IMTUF Reconnaissance

& encounters with sheep

If you’ve been following my Instagram, you may know that I’ve been doing some race reconnaissance up in McCall over the last couple of months in preparation for IMTUF in a few weeks—I’m growing fond of the drive north on state highway 55. As race day approaches, I’m only regretful that I’m not going to make the journey enough times to truly cover the *whole course* pre-IMTUF. While the drive to McCall is lovely, there are some rather remote sections of course that aren’t quite as accessible by minivan as I’d like!

That said, where my Honda Odyssey *has* taken me has been immensely helpful.

There is something so confidence building about actually putting your feet on-course.

Here’s the route. All of the yellow sections I’ve covered this summer.

And this section here at the bottom that’s still red—I ran that part last September at the IMTUF 20 mile race . . .

Which means I have a lot more intel than if I didn’t have any IMTUF course experience, right?

The reconnaissance has been helpful. On Thursday’s excursion, I was able to note several tricky parts where I need to be looking for the trail to change direction. My mapping app even lets me plot photos with descriptions! I’m hoping these details help me to cover this ground on race day with less stress and more confidence.

Not that the course won’t be marked. The race director, Jeremy, takes a lot of pride in this 100 miler, and flags the entire course himself. 

And he provides a very detailed course description in the IMTUF race manual.

Over 5,000 words of the 13,652 word document is dedicated to a course walk-through. A play-by-play of the entire one-hundred miles. Wow.

I first read the entire race manual last year while I was playing with the idea of signing up for this race.

Then I skimmed it a few more times before I decided to register and start training in earnest.

Since then I’ve read Jer’s race manual like I read the Bible: skimming over the rules and regulations and other necessary administrative parts, then slowing down to more completely digest the descriptive sections…the bits that describe the journey and offer wisdom about the path ahead. Sometimes I’m not quite sure what the text is saying, so I stop and re-read the confusing parts, making a note that I’ll need to revisit these lines of the manual once I’m out there on-course, actually running the thing. 

Getting out there seems to be the most clarifying of exercises.

Yet, without the course description to guide me, I’m not sure that *just* the red line of my GPX file would be quite enough to keep me on course. (Not every trail is “actually a trail” in this race.)

So I’ll take both. Both the physical reconnaissance and the written description.

Both lived and learned wisdom have their place!

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“Well, I found the sheep!”

Imagine if I’d encountered this scene on trail without having studied Jeremy’s course description:

“. . .  is 1.4mi long and rough throughout. This "trail" is no trail at all for the first few hundred feet of drop. The sheep just ate all the grass there, so at least you can see the footing. I will advise on the latest sheep location in this area before race day. If you are near the sheep, please walk and do not threaten the sheep or sheep dogs until you are past them.  The dogs are huge Pyrenees and they will be aggressive to any threat to their flock.  The shepherds are Peruvian and speak Spanish.  Near the bottom of the drop, cross over a big granite slab, then . . .”

Note that this bit about the sheep isn’t bolded, or set apart in any way. It’s simply embedded there in the text, stream of consciousness style, for us racers to digest and apply when the time comes. In the middle of describing the course, Jer just drops in the sheep, shepherd, and sheepdog thing, then just continues with the course like it’s no big thing.

I’m glad I didn’t miss this!

Although I didn’t encounter any shepherds on Friday morning, the sheep and sheepdogs were most definitely a big part of my trail experience. Had I not read about them, this encounter would have been much more shocking:

Now that I go back and read that bit with my lived experience, I have a whole new appreciation for this passage!

It’s like when I did my student-teaching in Africa.

As a senior in college, I was able to complete my student teaching overseas in a fifth grade classroom at Hillcrest School in Jos, Nigeria. My university sent myself and the other aspiring teachers who would be teaching internationally that semester to a weekend retreat educating us on the specific needs of TCKs—or Third Culture Kids—a couple of weeks before our assignments began. The training was fascinating. I took copious notes, asked questions, and just soaked the whole weekend up—so excited to use my new knowledge to teach TCKs in Jos.

And it was helpful.

But you know what was more helpful?

Repeating the TCK training *after* my student teaching experience overseas.

You see, I had signed a contract to teach my first two years out of college at an international school in Tianjin, China. That school system also hosted a training (taught, interestingly, by the same instructor I’d already sat under) pre-departure on understanding TCKs. I found it fascinating again—not because the information was new to me, but because this time I was digesting it after actually having spent a semester interacting with Third Culture Kids. The second time around I asked far more educated questions. The first time through I wouldn’t have known what questions to ask.

This doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t have been trained the first time. That would be like encountering sheep on trail with NO warning.

It’s just that both lived and learned wisdom not only have their place, but they go hand in hand. Preparing is important. Experiencing is important. In trail racing, we have the opportunity to engage the trail from both postures—each making us wise.

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Maybe I’ll get up to McCall one or two more times before IMTUF. I’ll most definitely be reading the manual several more times, and reviewing the notes on my course map. And maybe come race day, this will be enough to get me around the loop within the 36 hours cut-off.

Maybe it won’t.

Certainly, though, I will have gained wisdom for the next trail.