One of the central themes of my writing is how my running has turned from training and racing, to exploring and adventuring, often the urban adventure type. I’m here in Salt Lake City, Utah, or more correctly Kaysville, just north of the city, to crew my good friend and former athlete Elizabeth McGurk in the Wasatch 100. While my adventure here is urban, hers certainly is not.
Out here with her, to help crew and pace the last 30 miles with her is Jack Buffington, 19 year old former high school cross country runner who lives in the Upper Valley near Elizabeth. Jack and Elizabeth met through the LTC, Lebanon Trail Club, a club Elizabeth invented when she couldn’t find an appropriate one around. Jack recently got into ultra running and Elizabeth helped him finish the Long Trail in six days a month ago. Owing her a favor, he’s in Utah as well.
Getting into the Airbnb before noon on Wednesday, I looked to get in a short shake out run, and with Elizabeth visiting University of Utah to talk neuroscience, I decided to explore on foot close to home. Having done some research back in New Hampshire, I came across a unique venue for the afternoon’s exploration.
A local oddity is something called Kays Cross, a twenty foot concrete cross constructed in the 1940s by Eldon Kingston in tribute to Krishna Venta. Good old Eldon never really told anyone about it, so when the locals came across it out in a hollow, they interpreted its existence to have some mystical, demonic power. I figured I’d try to visit during the daytime, to avoid the obvious negative aura that surrounds the site, but mostly to avoid the entrance fee to an attraction I really have no true passion to to see other than it sounds a bit ridiculous. Google maps indicated a fence, but some internet intel made it sound that there might be access from the fields near the local school. I spied another spot where housing construction was happening close to the hollow so I figured I’d be able to find some way in at either of those two spots.
Young Jack jumped in with me though the run would be short in terms of what he had become accustomed to running. While I tried to dissuade him saying I’m too slow and it was going to be a very short run, YJ was taken with the lore surrounding the place and just thought it would be a really cool thing to do, plus he had a biggish run planned for the next day.
So around 2:30 he and I set off for the school, and it wasn’t long before the 5000 feet of altitude made itself known. While I was able to cruise along, my easy run wasn’t easy. Fifteen minutes brought us to the school and the fence, which convinced us we’d need another way in. Skirting around towards my other intended access we found a section that while fenced, whomever constructed it was more concerned that it looked fenced off than it actually was fenced off. A simple push on the edge of the fence and we were able to walk right in.
Looking around, we opted to follow faint game trails with the idea that we’d keep following the bigger and bigger trails until we ended up at the cross. Not long and we came across a metal picnic table well into the woods (who has picnics in a fenced in area supposedly the most haunted spot in Utah, and more importantly, how did they get it there?)
Shortly thereafter we found our way to the cross. While I’ll admit it was odd to see the ruins of a gigantic cross in the middle of nowhere, the spooky part was it just seemed so unnatural, as opposed to supernatural. Standing there looking at it all I could do is wonder what were they thinking? (The cross had been dynamited some years on hoping to get rid of the supposed demon aura it gave off.)
We continued to look around for a while, then retraced our steps back out the fence and then on to the Airbnb. Along the way continuing to contribute to my criminal trespass I relieved a local plum tree of a couple of slightly under ripe plums.
On Thursday, Elizabeth busied herself with arranging drop bags, packing and repacking, and ensuring there was no way she’d not have enough fuel (a word ultra runners use instead of food) giving us the morning to explore the local Wasatch range. Young Jack looking for elevation and some miles, headed up to the ridge for some stunning photos along with more time on feet. I was looking for less pavement and a preview of the first couple miles of the course that runs along a section of the Bonneville Shoreline Trail. In the afternoon we were to head down to race central, to pick up bibs, drop the drop bags and grab some dinner. Elizabeth dropped us off at the trailhead, YJ moving away with ease, me choking on the oxygen-less air in Kaysville.
With plenty of time and the desire to really see what was out there, along with the difficulty of altitude, I slowly chugged my way southeast on the BST until the race course drops down toward the entrance of Bair Canyon, where in the race the real climbing begins. My achilles was a bit agitated so I figured the less steep descending and climbing the better. Plus I had plans to run back to the house from there, knowing most of that would be the unforgiving concrete. At 2.65 miles I spun it around.
Along the way I saw western skinks, local hare, a mule deer and more crickets and grasshoppers than you can shake a stick at. Cruising the trail back I also crossed paths with a local biker, stopping to chat the third time he passed me and I pulled of the trail. What are the markings for? I told him the Wasatch 100 the next day. We engaged in a twenty minute conversation once he knew I was from New Hampshire as he formerly had called Vermont home. After saying our good byes I finished up on the BST and headed back down the concrete highway to the Airbnb.
With YJ still a couple hours from finishing his run, I was able to sit on the front porch, choosing to rehydrate and replenish with an adult beverage and pita chips and hummus. While in less than twenty four hours my good friend will embark on her 100 mile odyssey, I just completed the longest run I’ve done since April and the biggest week I’ve had in a long time. Not that everything is going well, but it’s going well enough. Elizabeth’s and my goals are different, but they are similar in that they are our goals. Hers a little loftier than mine.
And that’s OK. I’ll see you out there.
