What is the proper response when a buffalo charges you? Most people have never thought about it. March 21st 2015 marked the 10th Annual Antelope Island Buffalo Run put on by founder and race director Jim Skaggs. The increasingly popular trail run was held at one of Utah’s many one-off destinations, Antelope Island, a barren desert rock that floats in the Great Salt Lake and is home to herds of wild buffalo, antelope, and countless other critters. Last weekend, this unique wildlife included a field of 850 runners, the largest since the race got its start in 2006, who converged to log tens of thousands of miles on foot, racing across the island trails in four distance categories: 25k, 50k, 50mile, and 100mile. With the promise of brew and stew at the finish line, who could say no (picture the race director supplying his home brew while his wife and volunteers make stew from buffalo meat and the cans of food that each runner is required to bring). This race is as inimitable as the otherworldly location where it is held.
My decision to run this race was bolstered by other runners I know who recommended it as a good place to start racing on trail. As my preparations evolved and discussions took place, I came to realize that many a trail runner in this area used the Buffalo Run as their maiden trail voyage. Much research went into this venture, including…you guessed it…how to react if a buffalo charges you. Admittedly, this was a small source of anxiety for me leading up to race day. After putting off my registration for no good reason, other than thinking I would get around to it eventually, I finally resolved to log in and sign up. Imagine my surprise and disappointment when the sign-up page was gone because registration had closed the day prior. That took the wind from my sails, my first trail race opportunity gone, but it’s good to have friends who are connected. To my excitement and surprise, an email arrived in my inbox the next day from Jim, the race director, allowing a late sign up. It was back on. This ship would indeed sail and the wind was strong. As far as race directors go, this says a lot about Jim and his willingness to let people participate in this event because there are a lot of behind the scenes details involved based on the number of runners expected.
Having not run an official trail race before, I opted sign up for the 25k (a distance equal to 15.5 miles), thinking it would be a relatively easy debut as I have previously run 13 mile training runs on trail without much difficulty or need for recovery. Typical pre-race rituals took place. Two days before the race found me in the kitchen scarfing a Viking’s dose of angel-hair pasta with goat cheese and smoked salmon, drinking more water than that delicious salmon had seen in its lifetime, and stretching my legs after an easy 2-mile run to keep the legs fresh and rested. The following day was more of the same, though a smaller portion of food, and plenty of rest.
Race day arrived with perfect weather, highs in the 70’s and a few pink clouds on the morning horizon. The one-hour drive to the island with two other runners was calm and relaxing, but the orange bank of port-a-potties beckoned me the moment we parked the car. Race day jitters now behind me, there was a little time for loitering, stretching, wondering, and excitement. Hundreds of runners grouped together at the starting line like wild-eyed cattle ready to burst through the corral gates. With a 10 second countdown, the number 1 erased all feeling of worry or anxiety as focus took over and my feet did their thing. The course starts out with a gradual 2-mile climb followed by a short downhill leading into a section of switchbacks that every time I looked up had increased by 3. There was very little flat trail, but a lot of climbing and descending. At mile 5.5 the aid station provided fluids, snacks, and shade, but with a hasty water cup grab I continued on. The same aid station comes into view again around mile 10.5 and you reach it a mile later as you loop back towards the finish.
Passing runners of the 50k, which is two laps of the 25k course, on their way up or down was encouraging as shouts of “good job” and “keep it up” echoed from both sides. Those inspiring cheers were heard over the entire 16.5 miles (according to my Garmin watch) and helped pull me up the difficult switchback climbs, propelled my feet on the pounding downhill, and rang in my ears as my hands started to go numb and my legs turned to rubber in the last two miles. Winding past an open prairie landscape that fed wild buffalo to my right and the finish line in the distance also helped augment my efforts and take my mind from the unexpected difficulty of the event. The timing pad at the finish passed under my feet 2 hours and 41 minutes after I left it. In the world of trail racing, that is not outstanding, but for my first trail 25k I finished in 81st place overall out of 371.
As each runner crossed the finish they were given a hand-made finishers mug and chocolate milk. The mugs came from a “local” artist in Park City and were perfect for the buffalo stew waiting in the tent. To be honest, hot stew on a hot day after running a race did not sound good, but not wanting to deny myself the whole experience, I felt obligated to partake. It tasted good, but halfway down the mug, I traded the stew in for a banana and fig bar. Joining up with the two other runners I came with, we threw a blanket on the ground outside the tent and watched the rest of the runners finish. The homebrew from Jim flowed freely and while I don’t drink alcohol, everybody that did said it tasted great.
Fortunately, my fears of the buffalo interaction never became a reality, though I may have had a much faster race time if that had. The research about what you should do if a buffalo charges provided no results and left me to my wonder. The best suggestion is have…if a buffalo charges you…ask for a receipt. And run like you want to win.