Recently I ran my first Bridger Ridge Run. I’m not entirely sure of what possessed me to do this race. While I was on a cross country team once upon a time, saying that I am a cross country runner would be akin to saying that I am a stock car racer who only races on public roads and rarely exceeds the legal speed limit. So it was with a significant amount of trepidation that I approached a race as arduous, technical and long as the Ridge Run. I’m going to tell you about this race, and since this is technically a beer article, as I relay my experiences, I will very loosely and tenuously relate the sections of the race to three different beers.

Act I: Red Lodge Ales Czechmate Pilsner
Pilsners, a type of light lager originating in Czechoslovakia, have fast become one of my recent favorite styles of beer. As a newer beer geek, light beers, lagers in particular, were very easy to overlook. Instead, I would talk about the complexities of stouts, bocks, and IPAs. While those are all still valid, I’ve lately really come to appreciate the intricacies present in craft light lagers, and pilsners specifically. Red Lodge Ales’ Czechmate lager is a fantastic example of the style. Once you know what to look for, the use of malts and noble hops, which give a spicy rather than grassy or fruity flavor and aroma, are wonderful. While ales can finish their fermentation in as little as a week, lagers use a different type of yeast which ferments at colder temperatures and can take months to be ready to transfer into a bottle or keg. In short, it takes skill and patience to make a lager.

That’s why I chose it to represent the first section of the Ridge Run. The months of preparation, the weeks of nervous energy building up and the excitement at the starting line as the race began, culminated largely in a single file line walking/jogging up the trail with little room to pass those in front of you. While I had tried to be mentally prepared for the race’s difficulties, I hadn’t anticipated having to slowly plod my way up to Sacajawea peak while my legs were screaming to just break file and run down the trail. Like a good Pilsner, however, the wait was worth it (I warned you that these metaphors would be tenuous). I have no doubt that if were able to sprint up those initial hills to my heart’s content that it would have severely hurt my race in its second half.

Act II: Lagunitas Lucky 13.alt
The Lagunitas Lucky 13.alt is an American Strong Ale, and it lives up to its style’s name. Clocking in at 8.8% alcohol by volume, this beer has great taste, but its relatively light, sweet malty body and delicate, but excellent use of Amarillo hops don’t do enough to mask the taste of its considerable alcohol percentage. And, even though despite it’s quite drinkable, the fact that it’s sold in 22 oz bottles means that one of these is going to pack a considerable punch.

…Just like the middle section of the Ridge Run (You knew that was coming). The long, steep climb out of Ross pass was the last time in the entire race where being stuck behind somebody was a concern. One of the last major climbs was now behind me and I sped up and began to regain some time. Running along dirt trail where available and hopping from rock to rock the rest of the time, I set my sights on Bridger Peak where my wife was going to be waiting with some fresh water bottles and a stash of replacement food and water. Honestly I don’t remember much of this stretch of the race. The going was relatively easy, and I was able to set a respectable pace. Once I refreshed my supplies on Bridger Peak and swallowed a Dixie cup full of Gatorade, I continued along the Ridge. The next prominent climb was the rise up to Saddle Peak. Here my steps began to take a little bit longer, my legs felt a little bit heavier and some of my former enthusiasm became a little bit more difficult to find.

On the trail between Saddle Peak and Baldy Peak, as I slowed to walk up one of the steeper sections, my legs began to cramp. I’m not sure if it was my lower groin or my lower-inside quadriceps, but it was crippling. I hobbled to the side of the trail to   allow a trio of racers I had recently passed to go by as I attempted to stretch and relax my muscles. While I had been diligent about consuming calories, electrolytes and water, I had obviously not been doing enough. I swallowed two more electrolyte pills, took a few gulps of water, gritted my teeth and forced myself to continue. I wouldn’t have minded a gulp of an 8.8% alcohol beer around this point.

Act III: Huyghe Brewery — Delirium Tremens
Voted the best beer in the world at the 2008 World Beer Championships, this Belgian import is fantastically smooth and distinctly Belgian in aroma and flavor. Its light color and body let the subtle yeast and malt characteristics shine through to the forefront, and unlike the Lucky 13.alt, Delirium Tremens’ 8.5% is quite subtle, making for a potentially dangerous evening of imbibing. The pink elephant which adorns the bottle is quite appropriate for this final, as I’m fairly certain I saw that little guy several times during the last several miles of the race.

For those of you who have made the trek up to Baldy from the ‘M’ and back down, you will appreciate what it must have been like to descend after a mountainous 16 miles. The immediate decent from the famously bald peak had me wishing for another climb, and as I ran through a flat, green meadow, my legs both had another onset of sharp, debilitating cramps. One of my least dignified moments of the race (and that is saying a lot) consisted of me suddenly taking up the entire trail, feet spread about three feet apart and lacking any ability to move in any way without pain overtaking my legs. Fortunately nobody was near, because I simply would not have been able to move out of their way. Not to mention the fact that I began loudly swearing and pleading with my legs to move. Have I mentioned that the theme of this section is delirium?

Somehow, through my cursing, anger and exhaustion I was finally able to take one awkward step forward, and then another. I found myself being able to make steady progress again, cramps subsiding for the most part. My continued forward progress inevitably led me to the final decent that I had been dreading the whole race. Through the awkward side-to-side steps, strides and leaps down the mountain, I finally came to what I recognized as the juniper bush marking the final turn before the finish line. As I rounded that bush I could make out the colorful tents and crowd waiting for me a mere 100 meters away. At least, I assume that I could have made them out if I had the ability to do anything beyond simply placing one foot in front of the other. At this point, that demanded all of my focus, until I finally crossed the line. Then all of my focus was simply tasked toward not falling over. See, the metaphors worked out after all! This finished the same way as a session of too much Delirium Tremens!

Justin van Almelo can be contacted at jvanalm@gmail.com