Dear David,

After reading all the harrowing tales of running Bridger Ridge, I thought I should relate my experience which occurred during the 2005 run. It was a little cold at the outset, but the anticipation of conquering the Ridge helped keep the spirits warm. (Doesn't that sound like a line out of the brochure?) The race started out with overcast skies and a silent shroud of snow (Simon & Garfunkel lives on in my failing memory). The trek up to Sacajawea was uneventful except for finding tiny shards of ice coating the hair on my legs, something I had never experienced in 35 years of running. I was feeling rather good as I crested that summit a little winded, but looking forward to making up time on the descent and what I was led to believe was the best part of the trail. Indeed, it was a beautiful setting and I was feeling wonderful as the oxygen level rose in the surrounding atmosphere. Little did I suspect that my minutes were numbered.

At approximately 4.75 miles into the run (according to my GPS), I encountered a tree which had fallen across the path. The trail was clearly marked by all those who had gone before me a short two to three steps up the side of the hill bordering the trail and then back down. No problem. Unfortunately, I did not notice how soft the dirt was. I planted my left foot at the top and stepped out with my right. Instead of meeting with solid ground, my right foot continued to slide and down I went. I heard a popping sound as I landed. Looking around for the branch that I had surely stepped on which caused the pop. I quickly realized that the noise had emanated from my lower leg. I quickly rose to test out my foot and leg. I tried running again, but was starting to realize that my race was probably over at that point. The pain in my lower foot was just a little too much to bear. I started walking, hoping against hope that I could just walk it off. Also, having been warned at the pre race meeting that you either get down off the mountain yourself or die (just kidding, sort of), I knew I did not have much choice. I had sprained ankles before and they had always miraculously healed during the course of a run so I had a little hope. One of the sweepers came upon me during the walk. We talked about what had happened as we continued along the trail. Later on, another sweeper came up to us. He was a retired ER physician. He checked my ankle and determined that it was not broken. Although it was swelling, we both knew the best thing to do was keep on moving. He provided great company as we walked the trail. Soon someone who had been watching his friends at the aid station met us. He offered to take me to the finish line in his vehicle which was parked just off the trail. Needless to say, he was a godsend.

The angel of mercy and I proceeded down the mountain for approximately 1.5 miles. The total travel time from the site of the pop to the vehicle was right around 3.5 miles. The only thing that was hurting was my foot and ankle. I figured that I tore the heck out of a few ligaments which meant that I would only have to lay off a few weeks before hitting the streets and trails.

My fellow Gillette runners (Scott Rexroat and Bob Palmer) completed the run. We all left in our vehicle for the trip to the race headquarters, a quick shower and the return trip home. The pain was minimal as we arrived in Gillette late that night. I decided to stay off my feet on Sunday to see if the swelling would subside. Things were looking really good on Monday only a little hotspot a few inches up my calf. Otherwise, I was fine. My fiancée convinced me to get an appointment with one of the local orthopods. Upon relating my story, and without taking an x-ray, he said: you broke your fibula, to which I replied: BS . The x-ray did not lie; the spiral break of the fibula was quite evident. The ligaments were pretty messed up as well. My first question was: "When can I run again?" He did not hesitate in saying 90 days. (He knows runners are nuts.) I plan to be back in my running shoes by 15 November. Surgery occurred two days later. I am now sporting a plate and nine screws in my fibula and am in my second week of physical therapy as I write this. My therapist is going crazy. He does not think 14 hours of exercising is a good thing every day. I told him we have a deadline to meet.

Will I attempt the Ridge again? I am not sure at this point. It is more a fear of tearing more ligaments than anything. I am not sure if my ankle will ever be the same. Am I disappointed? Absolutely. Not only because I am bound by the Mansur rule of not being able to wear any clothing associated with a run that is not finished, but because if I want to run it again, I will have to start training all over up in those blasted mountains.

The people on the trail were great. Obviously, I would not have made it back without them. I am sorry that I cannot remember their names (I may have been preoccupied), but I do want to say Thanks for getting me off the mountain.

Jim Edwards