WYOMING • Wyoming Marathon

Race Director Brent Weigner, a seventh grade geography teacher for three decades, publicizes the event motto: "Where the race director promises nothing, and he delivers." But in fact, for elements within his control as RD, Brent produces an excellent event. The motto tells you only that Brent has a good sense of humor.

Further: After completing his 50 & DC in 1998, in July 1999 Brent became the first person in the world to run an ultra on all seven continents—including both poles. Less than two weeks later he broke that world record at the Cross Calgary 57K, thus lowering the record to 267 days for the seven-continent ultra achievement.

6:00 a.m. start in Medicine Bow National Forest. Elevation 8723'. Crystal clear air, 40ish. Awesome scenery all around. I begin the downhill on red dirt roads generously embellished with pebbles that eagerly hop into running shoes.

Four miles down yield to two miles up. Shortly after the half-marathon turnaround I have some three miles of asphalt parallel to I-80. After passing the m11 aid station I gladly return to the dirt roads (not so gladly for the pebbles). I pass several magnificent geological formations (below), especially the Vedauwoo Rocks.

The descent to halfway falls fairly gradually until the last half-mile or so, where I have to make one particularly steep downhill and what feels like an even steeper uphill before reaching the turnaround aid station. Here I find my halfway time some 10-15 minutes behind average. I find that reasonable at over 8000' elevation.

I become more consciously aware of a little trouble breathing consistently. The increasingly extra effort required to tackle these hills, with so few oxygen molecules, has begun perceptibly draining me. The gorgeous weather helps compensate somewhat; temperatures, though rising, linger in the otherwise invigorating 50's.

A few stray clouds accent the bold blue sky. After refueling at the next aid station I try to take advantage of the relatively flat asphalt interlude. The elevation still takes its toll, as does the prairie wind constantly bullying me. I love the broad, rolling fields and hills flanking the course, but this pavement runs too straight for too far.

I exercise particular caution crossing the cattle guards. Carelessness or fatigue could easily cause serious injury. Thankfully returning to the dirt road I jog some of the next couple or so mainly downhill miles. I reach the topographical low point about noon. Cloud cover has increased to provide an overcast for the rest of my race. This lower part of the course also buffers the wind.

All too soon, the first of several subtle but steady inclines emerges. None of these poses any particularly lethal threat in itself. But several of them form a conspiracy, operating like a crowd of vampires, each making only a teensy nibble in my neck and politely taking just a few dainty sips of blood. Feels like I'm wading through wet concrete. I perceive mile markers slowly moving past until finally one of them says 25.

Climbing this final mile I feel like I have elephants riding my back. I keep hearing Chicago’s second album, side four: It better end soon, my friend, better end soon, my frieeeend, yeaaahhh—

• First marathon finisher @ 3:26:14, last @ 8:37:45
| First double marathon finisher @ 7:24:38, last @ 13:55:11.

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