2019 Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run - "The Sequel"
How often does one get to go back and re-write their history?
I first ran Western States in 2010 at the age of 33, exactly 9 years ago. Youth, along with some raw talent and speed was in my favor then, but proper experience in 100 mile races was not. I came in with no concrete plan on how to execute the race. No spreadsheets, little crew or pacer instructions, little thoughts about gear, and no real heat training. Instead, I hoped that my large aerobic base would get me through efficiently.
It was a snow route year and I enjoyed being able to make the detour onto easier fire roads instead of the slushy stuff up on the higher ridges of the original route. I ran close to the first half of the race at sub 20 hour pace and all seemed to be well. Until it wasn't. Once I left Last Chance aid at mile 43 it was the beginning of the end as I descended into the notoriously hot "canyon" section of the race. It easily hit 100*F out there. Not only was I not heat trained, but I didn't know or think to go jump in the creek, or get sponged and iced down at the aid, or take some extra time to refuel. I quickly found myself puking at the bottom of Deadwood Canyon, and could barely hike up to Devil's Thumb aid. The process repeated itself descending into El Dorado Creek and back up to Michigan Bluff where I was dry heaving the whole ascent.
By the time I reached my crew at Michigan Bluff my GI had shut down and I was significantly heat exhausted with dizziness and extreme fatigue. However, the new love of my life Zhi was there (we'd been dating for 2 months), along with my Mom, brother Adam, and pacer/crew help Mark, John, and Brian. I couldn't bring myself to drop out of the race despite how awful of a state I was in. Instead, I engaged in what I describe as a "death march", essentially walking the last half of this 100 mile course.
I would find the finish line, staggering in at 26 hours and 44 minutes, nearly 7 hours off my goal time and 3 hours slower than what was needed to get the coveted sub 24 hour silver belt buckle. But I finished, and exclaimed to my girlfriend Zhi to "let this be a testament that I will never give up on us." Nine years later, we are married with a son, living in Colorado.
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| 2010 Western States Finish Line |
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| Exhausted |
The experience in 2010 left a rather bitter taste in my mouth about running 100 mile races, and it would take 4 years before I would attempt another one. However, I figured out in this span that it is possible to not only finish but do reasonably well in 100 mile races, but it takes a lot of mental planning and strategy along with the obvious physical fitness. I started putting my name back in the WS lottery in 2013, but by then the race had exploded into unprecedented popularity. In 2014 to 2018, I went on to successfully finish Run Rabbit Run, UTMB, Leadville, and the Bear, while continuing to see my name not get pulled for Western States. Finally, in the 2019 lottery after 6 straight years of qualifying, my name was pulled out of 6,000 runners and only 250 slots. I was ecstatic. And, I needed a plan.
The High Country (Start to Robinson Flat - Miles 0-30)
"Holy shit, I am getting passed by a guy running on a prosthetic limb! Wait a sec, that's Dave Mackey!"
Dave Mackey (to those unaware) is a legendary ultra runner that has won the prestigious ultra runner of the year award in the past and took runner-up at Western States some years back. He had a horrible trail running accident coming down Bear Peak in Boulder, CO a few years ago where a large boulder dislodged and trapped his body, effectively crushing his lower leg. Dave survived the accident but would be in and out of the hospital for a year with many surgeries and a lot of pain and suffering. He made the difficult decision to have his lower leg amputated but since then has gone on to finish the difficult Leadman series (which involves running a marathon, 50 mile race, and the infamous Leadville 100 run in addition to finishing the bike races of the same distance). His story comes as huge inspiration to so many of us, and there he was, coming by me with grace and purpose.
The last section was much like the previous; descending with several steep and short rollers mixed in. It also becomes psychologically disturbing as you can already hear the river to your left yet I knew I still had as much as an hour left before getting to the crossing. We plowed on and watched the sun slowly set and fade to darkness.
For the first time in my running career I hired a coach to guide me through regimented training. I selected Andy Jones-Wilkins, who has finished WS ten times and has come in the top ten seven times. He is also famous for his obsession of WS and has more course knowledge than perhaps any other. I trained hard and diligently through what was a cold and snowy Colorado winter. I ran Collegiate Peaks and North Fork 50 mile ultras 8 weeks and 4 weeks out from WS, having good results in both. I also underwent sauna training 7 weeks out from the event, as I vowed to not let heat exhaustion claim me again.
We did the race check in and attended the mandatory race meeting. RD Craig Thornley informed the crowd there was still snow in the high country portion of the race, estimating up to 10 miles worth with cornices and lots of water and mud and some steep re-routes. He reminded us to take it easy early on. I had been obsessed on the snowpack of the Sierra since January, as it can play a significant role in the race and I'm a bad technical runner. He also told us the high in Auburn was forecasted to be 85*F, which came as a relief to many of us.
Pre-Race at Squaw Valley
I arrived in Squaw Valley with my wife Zhi, my 4 year old son Miles, my close friend and chief pacer Dan Zolnikov, and our great friends and crew support Derek and Katherine Moore (Derek also being a pacer for the end of the race). Driving down the highway past Truckee and into town smelling the pines gave me heavy nostalgia of being there 9 years ago. We settled in, and had Thursday and Friday to get everything together. This time around, I had detailed spreadsheets, crew instructions, pacer instructions, gear changes, heat mitigation strategies, even coach AJW sitting us down and telling us all the "ins and outs" of the course. A very different experience altogether than 2010 coming into it.
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| Meeting with Coach AJW the Day Before the Race |
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| My Pacers (Derek Moore left, Dan Zolnikov right) |
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| With Coach AJW |
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| Picture for Ultralive.net |
We did the race check in and attended the mandatory race meeting. RD Craig Thornley informed the crowd there was still snow in the high country portion of the race, estimating up to 10 miles worth with cornices and lots of water and mud and some steep re-routes. He reminded us to take it easy early on. I had been obsessed on the snowpack of the Sierra since January, as it can play a significant role in the race and I'm a bad technical runner. He also told us the high in Auburn was forecasted to be 85*F, which came as a relief to many of us.
Everything pre-race went smooth, except for the fact that my poor son Miles became quite sick the day before, vomiting and extremely low on energy. I worried that the rest of us may get sick, but fortunately that did not materialize. Otherwise, my other concern was the hamstring tightness and right ankle tenderness I'd been feeling ever since Collegiate Peaks 8 weeks prior. They gave me issues when I ran North Fork 50 miler and hoped it wouldn't flare up too bad on race day. But overall, I felt refreshed and relieved the race had arrived and that by 5am tomorrow morning everything would be behind me and I would just need to execute.
The Start - Squaw Valley
We woke up at 3:45am, and I slept surprisingly well, to the point that my alarm clock actually served as an alarm clock and woke me up. However, my adrenaline was plenty and I was thrilled to get my clothes and gear on. We ate some breakfast, drank some coffee, and headed out on the 5 minute walk to the check-in and start line.
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| Zhi and I at the Start Line in 2010 |
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| Zhi, Miles, and I at the Start Line 2019 |
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| Dan, Derek, and I |
I only had about 10 or so minutes after taking photos, so I gave everyone hugs and filed in line, taking some deep breaths and pausing to be grateful that I was here. The countdown ensued, and we were off.
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| My A Crew & Family watching the start |
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| Western States Course - 100.2 Miles with 23,000 Feet of Descending and 18,000 feet of Ascending |
The High Country (Start to Robinson Flat - Miles 0-30)
"The journey of 100 miles begin with one step." -Lao Tzu
(ok, the quote is really 1,000 miles, but....)
(ok, the quote is really 1,000 miles, but....)
The 4.4 mile, 2,550 immediate climb up the escarpment was a nice way to start the race, as climbing is something I'm relatively comfortable with. The temps were in the mid 30's F, and felt pleasant. I filed in a group of elite female and a couple male runners that were carrying a very similar pace, and reached the top somewhere around 57 minutes (right on my "A" goal pacing). I stopped to turn around to witness the always magnificent sunrise over pristine Lake Tahoe. However, this is the most bliss I would feel for a very LONG time.
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| Base of Cougar Rock |
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| Climbing up Iconic Cougar Rock |
After reaching the top of the escarpment (8,700 feet, also the high point of the race), things got real for me very quickly. We enjoyed a brief downhill section before diving into the forested high country portion which was littered with snow cornices, debris, mud, lots of water, and some steep re-routes. For technically sound runners and high country enthusiasts, I'm sure they enjoyed this section a lot. For me, it was a nightmare. These conditions were present pretty much through Lyon Ridge (mile 10.3). While I started out upright for a few miles, it did not last long before I took a fall. And then another. And then I fell a 3rd time, which ripped my race bib off my shirt and destroyed the strap to my handheld bottle, badly bruising my right thumb. I had to take a deep breath, and attempted to run with 2 safety pins still not strapped on to my bib, knowing the aid station was coming. Once I arrived, I asked for a volunteer to help get my bib back on properly, in which they did. I looked at the strap to my hydration bottle and saw that it was destroyed, so I placed it in my pocket and knew I'd have to carry the bottle uncomfortably until Robinson Flat where I'd meet my crew and be able to make a full gear change.
Start to Lyon Ridge (mile 10.3): 2hrs 12mins elapsed, 12:51 pace, 71st place
"If you're going through hell, keep going." -Winston Churchill
Moving from Lyon to Red Star ridge was marked with an improvement to the snow but still technical and my right ankle was already starting to hurt along with notable tightening in my hamstrings. These ailments precluded me from having a sufficient vertical lift (ala not being able to pick my feet up enough) to avoid obstacles on the trail I could trip on. Another challenge I was facing was landing awkwardly and often unevenly with my shoes. I was wearing Hoka Speedgoats just for the high country section as I assumed it would be snowy and muddy and these have better grip and traction than my lighter Hoka Torrent's. However I realized in retrospect I should've practiced more with these shoes before the race. I turned my right ankle twice before making it to Red Star, and on the second time really worried if I sprained it. I reached the aid and found myself in a horrible downward spiral of self doubt and negative emotions.
Start to Red Star Ridge (mile 15.8): 3hrs 21mins elapsed, 12:43 pace, 72nd place
"Holy shit, I am getting passed by a guy running on a prosthetic limb! Wait a sec, that's Dave Mackey!"
Dave Mackey (to those unaware) is a legendary ultra runner that has won the prestigious ultra runner of the year award in the past and took runner-up at Western States some years back. He had a horrible trail running accident coming down Bear Peak in Boulder, CO a few years ago where a large boulder dislodged and trapped his body, effectively crushing his lower leg. Dave survived the accident but would be in and out of the hospital for a year with many surgeries and a lot of pain and suffering. He made the difficult decision to have his lower leg amputated but since then has gone on to finish the difficult Leadman series (which involves running a marathon, 50 mile race, and the infamous Leadville 100 run in addition to finishing the bike races of the same distance). His story comes as huge inspiration to so many of us, and there he was, coming by me with grace and purpose.
He noticed my Rocky Mountain Runners shirt and said, "oh cool, you're a Boulder guy like me!" We chatted, and I asked how he was feeling. He said he felt good, then he asked me how I was doing. I told him I was struggling, my ankle was hurting, and I hated the snow section earlier. He said he thought it was fun, and continued on. I told him he is such an inspiration, and he gave me a very low key thanks. Then, as he forged ahead of me, my internal shame suddenly intensified by the second.
"I just complained about a sore ankle to a man who had his entire lower left leg amputated. And he just ran right by me, positive and happy."
This marked my mental low of the race and I wasn't even 3.5 hours in. It was a kick in the nuts, but a good one. One that inspired me to crawl out of my mental funk and stop obsessing on the difficulties I'd been having through the high country. To stop obsessing on a sore ankle and tight hamstrings and falling so many times. To start enjoying the journey and process which I already knew would be a full scale war with ups and downs. Thanks to Dave for this, who I know is completely oblivious to the fact that he played a big role in reversing my internal disposition. I started moving a bit faster and got my body slowly in sync, catching up to Dave about 4 miles later and making it down to the tight and crowded aid station that is Duncan Canyon (I would find out almost a day later that Dave was forced to drop at mile 94 citing blown out quads, up until that point he was still close to sub 24 hour pace, I'm sure he'll be back for revenge).
Start to Duncan Canyon (mile 24.4): 4hrs 47mins elapsed, 11:45 overall pace, 73rd place
I had high hopes that my race would really start to turn around here, as you descend a couple miles down to Duncan creek followed by an ascent up to Robinson's Flat. However, not even one mile out of the aid I took a big fall, this one gashing my right knee pretty significantly. Blood started to pour down my leg as I tried to literally dust my body off from my "Superman" plunge to the ground. I was mad at myself all over again, as the stretch is not terribly technical, yet I just kept on falling and couldn't seem to find an even landing with my shoes. I felt as though I was running on high heels. On the bright side, before I could go into too much of a tailspin mentally (which I was getting very good at), I found myself at the creek crossing. I was very happy here to take a minute or two and douse my lower body, hoping to clean out the gash and decrease the blood.
I hoped the brief dip in the creek would re-invigorate me on the climb up to Robinson Flat, but I still just didn't feel good. My thoughts centered around getting out of the high country section where I could change out of my severely soaked shoes and socks and replace my water bottle that had been broken since mile 7. And, with any luck, change my mindset and attitude. Once I slowly made it up the climb and over, I came into Robinson Flat to hundreds of people and saw Dan who guided me over to Derek. I was not smiling much at this point and they asked me what I needed. I sat down in a chair and immediately changed out of my shoes and socks to a fresh dry pair of lighter Hoka Torrent's (my absolute favorite shoe on the planet) and Drymax socks. My feet were plenty wet and Dan/Derek did their best to dry them without having a towel handy (Dan even removed his shirt). They also immediately attended to my knee wound. It felt great to put dry and lighter shoes and socks on, and after sucking down a Coke and refilling my pockets with gels, I said goodbye to Dan and Derek and vowed to turn things around.
Start to Robinson Flat (mile 30.3): 6hrs 13mins elapsed, 12:18 overall pace, 84th place
The Canyons (Robinson Flat to Foresthill Miles 30-62)
"Fake it till you make it."
My elapsed time spent in the high country section was nearly a full hour slower than 2010, and while that wasn't lost on my mind, I also felt relieved to know that part was now behind me. The next 13 miles would be among the easiest of the entire course, before you make the precipitous drop into the deep canyons. This is where I turned my music on and tried to just lock into a running groove. I was content to NOT go too fast, as I knew I had to save a lot of energy for the rest of the race. I saw Miller's Defeat aid station 4 miles later and blew right by it, knowing Dusty Corners would be just around the corner 3.6 miles later. While I still did not feel great, I was running consistently, which was my only goal. Just before Dusty Corners I saw Tropical John Medinger (President of the WS board and who would later be on the PA of the HS track announcing all the WS finishers) sitting in a lawn chair chilling and came over to give him a nice high five before rolling into the aid station. At this point I was feeling better, having run the entire stretch. I stopped this time to fill up my arm sleeves and bandana with ice, and fully restock my bottles.
Start to Millers Aid (mile 34.4): 7hrs 02mins elapsed, 12:16 overall pace, 85th place
Start to Dusty Corners (mile 38.0): 7hrs 38mins elapsed, 12:03 overall pace, 86th place
From Dusty Corners we hopped on Pucker Point trail which becomes singletrack and gives you a nice view into Deadwood canyon (several thousand feet below and where we would run down several miles later. I maintained the same/steady rhythm as I had in the previous two sections, being careful not to run fast and keeping conserved. I arrived into Last Chance aid uneventfully, where I restocked again and sponged down before making the famous descent into the true canyon section of the course.
Start to Last Chance (mile 43.0): 8hrs 33mins elapsed, 11:50 overall pace, 90th place
In leaving Last Chance aid there is a couple miles on an old rutty fire road before making a left hand turn onto narrow singeltrack which precipitously drops into Deadwood canyon. I still felt good despite being 35 minutes under my 2010 pace, and was continuing to execute my slower but sustained jogging pace. I also noticed that the heat was not uber intense as I was expecting. Once I hit the singletrack and intense downhill gradient, it was impossible for me to not pump the brakes as I did not want to do anything reckless here. In the descent you can literally feel the mercury rising proportionally as you descend, where the temperature is hottest at the bottom. I made it down to the notorious Swinging Bridge, which then follows a short but steep climb to Devil's Thumb aid.
Getting to Swinging bridge was a very significant moment for me. In 2010 this is where my race completely unraveled. Aggressive pacing early on and not mitigating the heat and refueling enough left me in a complete state of bonk and I was crawling up to Devil's Thumb aid. This time around, however, I ran through the bridge, hiked assertively up to Devil's Thumb, and had a smile on my face much of the way. This was the section of the course I feared the most, and what a relief it was to be feeling good. I arrived into Devil's Thumb and took ample time to get a lot of ice in my bandana and sleeves and fully refuel. I ended up being 20 minutes faster in this section compared to 2010 and passed 11 runners on the stretch.
Start to Devil's Thumb (mile 47.8): 9hrs 45mins elapsed, 12:15 overall pace, 79th place
"This is great. I love ultras!!"
After Devil's Thumb I braced myself for what I knew was one of (if not) the longest single descents of the entire course, about a 5 mile grinder back down to the bottom of the canyon where El Dorado Creek (mile 52) is. Like before, I would break no speed records on the descent, but I was able to run steady and felt decent. After about 3.5 miles of this I was ready to reach the bottom to get a break on the pounding of my quad muscles which I was definitely starting to feel. Once I made it down to El Dorado Creek the temperatures were probably in the mid to upper 80's which was very manageable for WS standards.
Start to El Dorado Creek (mile 52.9): 10hrs 47mins elapsed, 12:13 overall pace, 81st place
"I'm not crawling up this climb, or puking, or heat exhausted. This is good! And I get to see my wife and son soon!"
In 2010 by the time I reached the climb out of El Dorado Creek into Michigan Bluff I was toasted beyond description. I was stopping every few minutes to dry heave, and I was averaging almost 30 minutes a mile. This time around, I felt a million times better, and was able to hike with purpose. As the canyons go, it gets cooler the higher you ascend, and we were blessed to have thin cirrus clouds in the sky just enough to block the sun once we were halfway up. Once I reached the rutted dirt road about half a mile before the aid I started to slowly spring back into a running rhythm, motivated by the certainty that my family was waiting up there to see me. I rolled into the aid station feeling great, and my wife and son were there to greet me. It was such a feeling of redemption compared to 2010 when I couldn't even talk by the time I hobbled into the Bluff.
Michigan Bluff is a great aid as you return to civilization and you've conquered the toughest part of the canyons. It was a huge rush to see my wife and son and my coach AJW also there. Everyone asked how I was doing and I told them the high country was a rough patch but I'd been rebounding ever since. AJW was very excited to see I looked good and told my crew "he's feeling good, grab some ice for his bandana and get 'em out of here quickly!" Everyone followed suit, and AJW ran with me out of the aid, giving me advice for the next section and reminding me about the the critical need to conquer the river section.
Start to Michigan Bluff (mile 55.0): 11hrs 41mins elapsed, 12:35 overall pace, 78th place
This section has a dirt road leading out of town which climbs gradually and while I was death marching in 2010 this time I was running with purpose and feeling pumped after seeing my crew. We then popped back onto singletrack down Volcano Canyon where we do another canyon descent except it's not as steep as the previous two. I made it down efficiently, and while I could feel the sun on my face, my cold bandana was helping to mitigate the effects. The climb up from the bottom of Volcano canyon starts on singletrack trail and then you hop back onto Bath Rd which is paved and climbs up to Foresthill (the next huge aid station). I found myself both power hiking and jogging the climb, and once I got close to the top of Bath Rd (mile 61) I found my pacer Dan Zolnikov waiting for me. We hit the dirt portion of the road and kept in the shade before ducking out on the main road into the official aid. Just like Michigan Bluff, I felt really good, and we blew right by the official aid station as my crew had set up about half a mile down the road just before making the turn onto Cal St. It was a joyous run on the road where I met my crew with excitement and positive energy. I stopped here for a good few minutes to ensure I did a full restock and refresh. I also made sure to really enjoy the experience that I was completely unable to do in 2010.
Start to Foresthill (mile 62.0): 13hrs 1min elapsed, 12:35 overall pace, 74th place
The River Section (Foresthill to Green Gate Miles 62-80)
"The race starts after Foresthill." -Many Authors
"(The river section) is the strategic nexus of the course." - Andy Jones-Wilkins.
I left Foresthill with my pacer Dan Zolnikov, feeling fresh and rejuvenated. I loved being able to spend quality time with my family and crew. I was one hour ahead of my 2010 pace and marveled again at how great it felt to be running at this stage of the race.
My coach AJW could not underscore the importance of this section, how it literally makes or breaks the race for so many runners. For me, I knew the objective was simple: be able to run down to the Rucky Chucky river crossing. If I could manage this, I knew that I'd have a sub 24 hour buckle in the bag easily.
We decided to have Dan pace in front of me so he could set the pace. The first section into Cal 1 is about 3 or so miles and almost all downhill. It was plenty warm but not overly hot and I felt fine and not overheated. I was not able to keep up with Dan's initial pace but he made quick adjustments and figured out the pace that I could manage. We got down to Cal 1 aid (Dardanalles) efficiently and decided to blow right past the it to keep momentum to Cal 2 (Peachstone).
Getting from Cal 1 to Cal 2 is a 5 mile stretch and where the many "rollers" (15 to be exact according to AJW) begin. Rollers are the nuisance hills that seemingly come out of nowhere when you're otherwise descending consistently and can really destroy your rhythm (and even your race). I decided to mainly power hike up the rollers and try to suck down gels while doing so. Before getting to Cal 2 you face what is called the "Elevator Shaft", a short but very steep technical descent that left my quads screaming for relief. By that point I realized in general that my quads were getting beat up from the cumulative downhill pounding of the course. We hopped into Cal 2 and this time I made sure to restock on electrolytes and gels before making my way out.
Start to Peachstone (Cal 2) (mile 70.7): 14hrs 49min elapsed, 12:34 overall pace, 71st place
"Yes! We are still running!"
I just needed another 7+ miles to get to the river crossing. It was just before 8pm and we decided at Foresthill not to bring my headlamp since I would deal with wearing it in the sunlight for 2+ hours. However it also meant that it would get dark prior to making it down to Rucky Chucky and so this provided even more incentive to move as quickly as I could. We continued to grind the cutting switchbacks, with Dan staying in front and giving me reinforcement every few minutes to make sure my mind was keeping positive.
About 2 miles or less out of Cal 2 you suddenly hit a steep climb on a fire road that can all but destroy your momentum. Like several of the rollers, I just put my head down and power hiked while trying to suck down a gel. Once we reached the top, you continue a nice descent again before quickly arriving at Cal 3 (Brown's Bar) aid. Like Cal 1, it was only 3 miles from the previous aid so there was zero need for me to stop (although in retrospect I wish I stashed a spare headlamp here, as this section to the river was where darkness would fall upon us). Dan and I saw trail signs, and knew that we had about 5 miles left to grind.
This marked my mental low of the race and I wasn't even 3.5 hours in. It was a kick in the nuts, but a good one. One that inspired me to crawl out of my mental funk and stop obsessing on the difficulties I'd been having through the high country. To stop obsessing on a sore ankle and tight hamstrings and falling so many times. To start enjoying the journey and process which I already knew would be a full scale war with ups and downs. Thanks to Dave for this, who I know is completely oblivious to the fact that he played a big role in reversing my internal disposition. I started moving a bit faster and got my body slowly in sync, catching up to Dave about 4 miles later and making it down to the tight and crowded aid station that is Duncan Canyon (I would find out almost a day later that Dave was forced to drop at mile 94 citing blown out quads, up until that point he was still close to sub 24 hour pace, I'm sure he'll be back for revenge).
Start to Duncan Canyon (mile 24.4): 4hrs 47mins elapsed, 11:45 overall pace, 73rd place
I had high hopes that my race would really start to turn around here, as you descend a couple miles down to Duncan creek followed by an ascent up to Robinson's Flat. However, not even one mile out of the aid I took a big fall, this one gashing my right knee pretty significantly. Blood started to pour down my leg as I tried to literally dust my body off from my "Superman" plunge to the ground. I was mad at myself all over again, as the stretch is not terribly technical, yet I just kept on falling and couldn't seem to find an even landing with my shoes. I felt as though I was running on high heels. On the bright side, before I could go into too much of a tailspin mentally (which I was getting very good at), I found myself at the creek crossing. I was very happy here to take a minute or two and douse my lower body, hoping to clean out the gash and decrease the blood.
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| Duncan Creek - I actually sat down in the water a couple seconds after this photo |
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| Exiting Duncan Canyon hoping to feel better |
I hoped the brief dip in the creek would re-invigorate me on the climb up to Robinson Flat, but I still just didn't feel good. My thoughts centered around getting out of the high country section where I could change out of my severely soaked shoes and socks and replace my water bottle that had been broken since mile 7. And, with any luck, change my mindset and attitude. Once I slowly made it up the climb and over, I came into Robinson Flat to hundreds of people and saw Dan who guided me over to Derek. I was not smiling much at this point and they asked me what I needed. I sat down in a chair and immediately changed out of my shoes and socks to a fresh dry pair of lighter Hoka Torrent's (my absolute favorite shoe on the planet) and Drymax socks. My feet were plenty wet and Dan/Derek did their best to dry them without having a towel handy (Dan even removed his shirt). They also immediately attended to my knee wound. It felt great to put dry and lighter shoes and socks on, and after sucking down a Coke and refilling my pockets with gels, I said goodbye to Dan and Derek and vowed to turn things around.
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| Coming into Robinson Flat - Struggling |
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| Regrouping at Robinson (Photo Courtesy: Andy Kumeda) |
Start to Robinson Flat (mile 30.3): 6hrs 13mins elapsed, 12:18 overall pace, 84th place
The Canyons (Robinson Flat to Foresthill Miles 30-62)
"Fake it till you make it."
My elapsed time spent in the high country section was nearly a full hour slower than 2010, and while that wasn't lost on my mind, I also felt relieved to know that part was now behind me. The next 13 miles would be among the easiest of the entire course, before you make the precipitous drop into the deep canyons. This is where I turned my music on and tried to just lock into a running groove. I was content to NOT go too fast, as I knew I had to save a lot of energy for the rest of the race. I saw Miller's Defeat aid station 4 miles later and blew right by it, knowing Dusty Corners would be just around the corner 3.6 miles later. While I still did not feel great, I was running consistently, which was my only goal. Just before Dusty Corners I saw Tropical John Medinger (President of the WS board and who would later be on the PA of the HS track announcing all the WS finishers) sitting in a lawn chair chilling and came over to give him a nice high five before rolling into the aid station. At this point I was feeling better, having run the entire stretch. I stopped this time to fill up my arm sleeves and bandana with ice, and fully restock my bottles.
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| Refueling at Dusty Corners (Photo Courtesy: Kevin Chan) |
Start to Millers Aid (mile 34.4): 7hrs 02mins elapsed, 12:16 overall pace, 85th place
Start to Dusty Corners (mile 38.0): 7hrs 38mins elapsed, 12:03 overall pace, 86th place
From Dusty Corners we hopped on Pucker Point trail which becomes singletrack and gives you a nice view into Deadwood canyon (several thousand feet below and where we would run down several miles later. I maintained the same/steady rhythm as I had in the previous two sections, being careful not to run fast and keeping conserved. I arrived into Last Chance aid uneventfully, where I restocked again and sponged down before making the famous descent into the true canyon section of the course.
Start to Last Chance (mile 43.0): 8hrs 33mins elapsed, 11:50 overall pace, 90th place
In leaving Last Chance aid there is a couple miles on an old rutty fire road before making a left hand turn onto narrow singeltrack which precipitously drops into Deadwood canyon. I still felt good despite being 35 minutes under my 2010 pace, and was continuing to execute my slower but sustained jogging pace. I also noticed that the heat was not uber intense as I was expecting. Once I hit the singletrack and intense downhill gradient, it was impossible for me to not pump the brakes as I did not want to do anything reckless here. In the descent you can literally feel the mercury rising proportionally as you descend, where the temperature is hottest at the bottom. I made it down to the notorious Swinging Bridge, which then follows a short but steep climb to Devil's Thumb aid.
Getting to Swinging bridge was a very significant moment for me. In 2010 this is where my race completely unraveled. Aggressive pacing early on and not mitigating the heat and refueling enough left me in a complete state of bonk and I was crawling up to Devil's Thumb aid. This time around, however, I ran through the bridge, hiked assertively up to Devil's Thumb, and had a smile on my face much of the way. This was the section of the course I feared the most, and what a relief it was to be feeling good. I arrived into Devil's Thumb and took ample time to get a lot of ice in my bandana and sleeves and fully refuel. I ended up being 20 minutes faster in this section compared to 2010 and passed 11 runners on the stretch.
Start to Devil's Thumb (mile 47.8): 9hrs 45mins elapsed, 12:15 overall pace, 79th place
"This is great. I love ultras!!"
After Devil's Thumb I braced myself for what I knew was one of (if not) the longest single descents of the entire course, about a 5 mile grinder back down to the bottom of the canyon where El Dorado Creek (mile 52) is. Like before, I would break no speed records on the descent, but I was able to run steady and felt decent. After about 3.5 miles of this I was ready to reach the bottom to get a break on the pounding of my quad muscles which I was definitely starting to feel. Once I made it down to El Dorado Creek the temperatures were probably in the mid to upper 80's which was very manageable for WS standards.
Start to El Dorado Creek (mile 52.9): 10hrs 47mins elapsed, 12:13 overall pace, 81st place
"I'm not crawling up this climb, or puking, or heat exhausted. This is good! And I get to see my wife and son soon!"
In 2010 by the time I reached the climb out of El Dorado Creek into Michigan Bluff I was toasted beyond description. I was stopping every few minutes to dry heave, and I was averaging almost 30 minutes a mile. This time around, I felt a million times better, and was able to hike with purpose. As the canyons go, it gets cooler the higher you ascend, and we were blessed to have thin cirrus clouds in the sky just enough to block the sun once we were halfway up. Once I reached the rutted dirt road about half a mile before the aid I started to slowly spring back into a running rhythm, motivated by the certainty that my family was waiting up there to see me. I rolled into the aid station feeling great, and my wife and son were there to greet me. It was such a feeling of redemption compared to 2010 when I couldn't even talk by the time I hobbled into the Bluff.
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| My 4 year old son Miles waiting for me at Michigan Bluff |
Michigan Bluff is a great aid as you return to civilization and you've conquered the toughest part of the canyons. It was a huge rush to see my wife and son and my coach AJW also there. Everyone asked how I was doing and I told them the high country was a rough patch but I'd been rebounding ever since. AJW was very excited to see I looked good and told my crew "he's feeling good, grab some ice for his bandana and get 'em out of here quickly!" Everyone followed suit, and AJW ran with me out of the aid, giving me advice for the next section and reminding me about the the critical need to conquer the river section.
Start to Michigan Bluff (mile 55.0): 11hrs 41mins elapsed, 12:35 overall pace, 78th place
This section has a dirt road leading out of town which climbs gradually and while I was death marching in 2010 this time I was running with purpose and feeling pumped after seeing my crew. We then popped back onto singletrack down Volcano Canyon where we do another canyon descent except it's not as steep as the previous two. I made it down efficiently, and while I could feel the sun on my face, my cold bandana was helping to mitigate the effects. The climb up from the bottom of Volcano canyon starts on singletrack trail and then you hop back onto Bath Rd which is paved and climbs up to Foresthill (the next huge aid station). I found myself both power hiking and jogging the climb, and once I got close to the top of Bath Rd (mile 61) I found my pacer Dan Zolnikov waiting for me. We hit the dirt portion of the road and kept in the shade before ducking out on the main road into the official aid. Just like Michigan Bluff, I felt really good, and we blew right by the official aid station as my crew had set up about half a mile down the road just before making the turn onto Cal St. It was a joyous run on the road where I met my crew with excitement and positive energy. I stopped here for a good few minutes to ensure I did a full restock and refresh. I also made sure to really enjoy the experience that I was completely unable to do in 2010.
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| Coming into Foresthill Bloody and Happy (Photo Credit: Terri Gilliland) |
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| Love seeing my Wife and Son! (Photo Credit: Terri Gilliland) |
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| Bottled Happiness (Photo Courtesy: Terri Gilliland) |
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| Getting Sponged off from my Wife (Photo Credit: Terri Gilliland) |
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| Shot of the Crew (Photo Courtesy: Terri Gilliland) |
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| Refreshed and Happy (Photo Credit: Terri Gilliland) |
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| (Photo Credit: Terri Gilliland) |
Start to Foresthill (mile 62.0): 13hrs 1min elapsed, 12:35 overall pace, 74th place
The River Section (Foresthill to Green Gate Miles 62-80)
"The race starts after Foresthill." -Many Authors
"(The river section) is the strategic nexus of the course." - Andy Jones-Wilkins.
I left Foresthill with my pacer Dan Zolnikov, feeling fresh and rejuvenated. I loved being able to spend quality time with my family and crew. I was one hour ahead of my 2010 pace and marveled again at how great it felt to be running at this stage of the race.
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| Leaving Foresthill with Pacer DZ and Purpose (Photo Credit: Terri Gilliland) |
My coach AJW could not underscore the importance of this section, how it literally makes or breaks the race for so many runners. For me, I knew the objective was simple: be able to run down to the Rucky Chucky river crossing. If I could manage this, I knew that I'd have a sub 24 hour buckle in the bag easily.
We decided to have Dan pace in front of me so he could set the pace. The first section into Cal 1 is about 3 or so miles and almost all downhill. It was plenty warm but not overly hot and I felt fine and not overheated. I was not able to keep up with Dan's initial pace but he made quick adjustments and figured out the pace that I could manage. We got down to Cal 1 aid (Dardanalles) efficiently and decided to blow right past the it to keep momentum to Cal 2 (Peachstone).
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| Running the Steady Descent to Cal 1 (Photo Credit: Dan Zolnikov) |
Getting from Cal 1 to Cal 2 is a 5 mile stretch and where the many "rollers" (15 to be exact according to AJW) begin. Rollers are the nuisance hills that seemingly come out of nowhere when you're otherwise descending consistently and can really destroy your rhythm (and even your race). I decided to mainly power hike up the rollers and try to suck down gels while doing so. Before getting to Cal 2 you face what is called the "Elevator Shaft", a short but very steep technical descent that left my quads screaming for relief. By that point I realized in general that my quads were getting beat up from the cumulative downhill pounding of the course. We hopped into Cal 2 and this time I made sure to restock on electrolytes and gels before making my way out.
Start to Peachstone (Cal 2) (mile 70.7): 14hrs 49min elapsed, 12:34 overall pace, 71st place
"Yes! We are still running!"
I just needed another 7+ miles to get to the river crossing. It was just before 8pm and we decided at Foresthill not to bring my headlamp since I would deal with wearing it in the sunlight for 2+ hours. However it also meant that it would get dark prior to making it down to Rucky Chucky and so this provided even more incentive to move as quickly as I could. We continued to grind the cutting switchbacks, with Dan staying in front and giving me reinforcement every few minutes to make sure my mind was keeping positive.
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| Dan not only paced well but took pictures! |
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| Much of what the Cal St section looks like |
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| Historic WS Trail |
About 2 miles or less out of Cal 2 you suddenly hit a steep climb on a fire road that can all but destroy your momentum. Like several of the rollers, I just put my head down and power hiked while trying to suck down a gel. Once we reached the top, you continue a nice descent again before quickly arriving at Cal 3 (Brown's Bar) aid. Like Cal 1, it was only 3 miles from the previous aid so there was zero need for me to stop (although in retrospect I wish I stashed a spare headlamp here, as this section to the river was where darkness would fall upon us). Dan and I saw trail signs, and knew that we had about 5 miles left to grind.
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| Trying to get down to the River (Photo Credit: Dan Zolnikov) |
The last section was much like the previous; descending with several steep and short rollers mixed in. It also becomes psychologically disturbing as you can already hear the river to your left yet I knew I still had as much as an hour left before getting to the crossing. We plowed on and watched the sun slowly set and fade to darkness.
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See the River right? I am NOT close! :) (Photo Credit: Dan Zolnikov)
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We continued to jog as aggressively as we could as night fell, and Dan finally put his headlamp on with about 2-3 miles left. The last bit in the dark was a bit precarious as I wanted to ensure I did not turn an already strained right ankle or fall, but still wanted to make sure I went as quickly as possible. It would be a lie to say I was not obsessed on getting down to the river and wanting this 16 mile stretch to be over with. I was really happy knowing I'd all but succeeded with pacing and, best of all, would be reunited with my family and crew. I had a Petzl Nao headlamp waiting for me, and would be able to ditch my daytime gear (hat, glasses, etc.) and switch to just one hydration bottle.
Just after 9:30pm, we made it down to the Rucky Chucky near side aid station. It took 3 hours and 32 minutes to complete the river section, which was a pivotal success and one that gave me huge relief. However, my excitement started to quickly crumble as I looked around for my wife and son and could not find them. I asked Dan if he saw them, and he said no. Then we saw our friend Mike Oliva (who I'd also seen at Michigan Bluff), and asked him in an almost desperate tone if he'd seen my wife or crew. My heart sunk even further when he told me no. On the tactical level, I still did not have a headlamp and there was a long dark night ahead of me. I blurted this out to Dan, who merely nodded in agreement but obviously had no solution. Then, a random stranger next to Mike said I could borrow her headlamp. That was a big tactical relief, and I thanked and assured her she could get it back at the finish line. Dan and I agreed that we would cross the river and keep going (and perhaps see if my family and crew had decided to be on the far side of the river, which was an absolute longshot, but still some hope).
After crossing to the far side, there is a place where drop bags are. I had one with extra shoes, but decided against changing as I did not plunge in the river as I thought I may. Instead, I held a brief hope that somehow Zhi and Miles were over there, and quickly saw they were not. Dan and I pressed on reluctantly. There is a fairly steep 2 mile climb out of the river up to Green Gate aid (mile 80), and it was here that I went from concerned to frantic.
"Dan, I am worried sick about them. Where could they possibly be?"
"Don't worry man, I'm sure they are fine."
"You don't understand man. If you think I'm a planner, Zhi is 3x more. She would not miss this aid station. It took us 3.5 hours to get from Foresthill to the river, the crew instructions said to allow 45 minutes with shuttle time to get there via car from Foresthill. There's simply no way it took them more than 3.5 hours. What if they got in an accident? What if they are hurt? Dude I'm freaking out now!"
Dan mostly listened at this point, while trying to offer consolation even though he had no clue either and was probably concerned too. Then I asked him if he had his phone, and he said yes. He told me he had not received any calls or texts, which of course fueled my despair even further. I asked him, "can you please try to call one of them?" Dan agreed and started dialing, and it appeared he was successful in reaching Derek, who would be pacing me at Pointed Rocks Mile 94. In order not to destroy my race momentum, Dan and I quickly agreed that I would keep hiking up to Green Gate and he would catch up to me.
The hike up to Green Gate felt like the longest, loneliest stretch of my entire life. I knew Dan had connected with Derek, and so I assumed he would be catching up to me any minute. But it didn't happen. 5 minutes went by. Then 10. Then 15. And my mind was now in a full torrent of disaster.
"Why is the conversation lasting so long? Derek must be conveying to Dan that something terrible has happened....."
I sincerely believed at this point that Dan was going to find me and tell me they were in a severe car accident and the hospital, or worse....and then I started to become desperately impatient for Dan to arrive as I couldn't bear to stay in my deteriorated state of mind much longer. The uncertainty was now quite literally driving me crazy. I kept looking down the climb to see if Dan was coming up, and hollered his name a few times. Then, alas, I saw a headlamp bobbing and I knew it was him. I gasped and held my breath........
"Dude, they are fine. They got held up with the shuttles."
I immediately burst into loud tears, nearly sobbing. I told Dan that my brain spinned even further out of control on the lonely hike up, believing that Derek was debriefing him on a horrific accident that just happened (the reality of the matter is that Dan was going back and forth with reception issues so it took multiple efforts to get a signal). I told him I was ready to rip my bib off and call it quits, and was just so relieved they were fine. I knew I needed to take a deep breath, wipe my tears away, and focus on the next 20 miles to get to the finish line. We arrived into Green Gate shortly after, and went by without stopping. Ironically, along the way Dan started to get texts and missed calls as we entered pockets that had reception (my wife of course had texted and called him letting him know they were late, but reception is sparse on the remote course so we received it nearly 2 hours later).
Start to Green Gate (mile 80): 17hrs 00min elapsed, 12:46 overall pace, 66th place
The River to the Finish (mile 80 to 100.2)
"My quads are trashed."
"Nighttime blows."
"I want to be finished."
"Ultras suck."
They say the last 20 miles are among the most runnable of the entire course, and we had 5 miles to get to the Auburn Lakes aid at mile 85. However, it was 10pm and pitch dark, and while I was experiencing hamstring and ankle issues 15 hours earlier in the race in the high country, I was now experiencing nearly blown quads at mile 80. While I felt thankful my hamstrings and ankle never flared up again, I knew my quads had reached the point of no return. Every time I tried to run was too painful, especially on the downhills, and so I regressed to a power hike with Dan with short stretches of painful jogging. It is here where my general mood took a nosedive. When I reach this far in a 100 mile race my mind naturally becomes obsessed with getting to the finish line as fast as possible, yet I could not run anymore and am terrible with navigating at night even on fresh legs. However, I started calculating splits in my head and knew that I was well under a 24 hour goal and the only real consequence to not being able to run was breaking 22. So we marched on, and I would occasionally kick rocks and curse, and made sure to let Dan know how shitty I thought this trail was (again on fresh legs and daytime it is likely buttery awesome). We reached Auburn Lakes Trail aid, where jovial volunteers were leering us into having broth with white rice. Dan perked up like a kid in a candy store, and I wanted to barf just at the idea of it (my stomach was well past wanting to have something like rice even if it was soggy in a broth). Still, I was cojoled into having a cup, in which I reluctantly tried to suck down without vomiting. I restocked with gels and my electrolyte bottle, and Dan said:
"Yo E I'll catch up with you in a minute, this is some good shit!"
Dan was a happy camper, and I was a miserable sap.
Start to Auburn Lakes Trail (mile 85.2): 18hrs 23min elapsed, 12:56 overall pace, 69th place
The next section to Quarry Road aid was 5+ miles and the experience was nearly indistinguishable from the previous section. I lamented every time I kicked a rock or a root I couldn't see, continued to mainly hike, and was obsessed on the Placer HS track. Fortunately, things were uneventful otherwise and an hour and a half later we arrived at the Quarry Road aid station. This aid was quite a spectacle, with loud music blaring and christmas looking lights adorned around the aid. I wish I could say I enjoyed every moment of it and sat down and joined the party, but all it did was make my eardrums hurt and so I merely thanked everyone and spent very little time before departing on.
Start to Quarry Road (mile 90.7): 19hrs 55min elapsed, 13:10 overall pace, 72nd place
Leaving this aid you have a descent down to the creek where you have several small crossings before you began a significant climb which starts out on easier fire roads before going back to technical singletrack. Before the singletrack we came across another runner named Vincent from Spain, who asked if he could hike the climb with us as I believe he was having headlamp issues (or he wanted company, I was too exhausted to really remember or care). Both Dan and I told him clearly that we were past the point of running, and he exuberantly exclaimed that he did not want to run the climb whatsoever. So we filed one by one, with Dan leading and Vincent trailing me. And it was in this 2 mile difficult ascent that led to all 6 of my black toenails. Dan and Vincent got a front row seat to my emerging Tourrret's syndrome. It very much went like this:
"Ouch! FAHK!"
"Owwww! FUHUUK!"
"This headlamp sucks! I wish I had my Petzl!"
"AHHH! FAHKER!
"OUCH! Mother FAHK YOU!
"This headlamp sucks! I wish I had my Petzl!"
While I thought my lowest moment was complaining to amputee Dave Mackey about a sore ankle, or thinking my family had passed away in a car accident, I think this section competed for my spot at mental rock bottom. Not my finest hour. The trail was not only steep and narrow but rocky, so I was quite literally kicking and stubbing my toes seemingly every other minute as I was no longer picking my feet up at the level required. It hurt, and I knew I would have some destroyed toenails. I also blamed it on the spare headlamp which in reality had nothing to do with it, rather my clumsiness and exhaustion was the culprit as neither Dan nor Vincent were kicking rocks. We crossed HWY 49 where the aid station used to be, only to have to keep climbing up the meadow in Cool to the Pointed Rocks aid at mile 94 where Derek was waiting to pace me in to the finish. It felt never ending, and I made sure to vocally complain about that as well, multiple times. We arrived in what felt like an eternity to see Derek I gave Dan the spare headlamp and got my Petzl on from Derek. I gave Dan a big hug and thanked him for what was a stellar pacing effort. He handled almost 34 miles of the course, including texting and talking on the phone to crew when I worried my family had died in a car accident, and keeping me psychologically motivated and spirited. Despite my slowdown from mile 80 to 94 we actually hit my pacing goals overall. After a couple minutes Derek and I were off to finish this sucker.
Start to Pointed Rocks (mile 94.0): 21hrs 04min elapsed, 13:24 overall pace, 70th place
As Derek and I began, my deplorably bad mood apparently rubbed off on Dan, who needed to get back to the parking lot to retrieve the vehicle Derek brought to the aid. Apparently the parking lot was a decent walk from the actual aid station, and Dan was having none of it.
"Where the hell is this parking lot?! What kind of people put an aid station that makes you walk a half mile! This is ridiculous!"
Once Dan got to the parking lot he endured more difficulty trying to find the actual vehicle, which led to more obscenities. He did find the vehicle though. More on him later.
I told Derek my quads were trashed and I could no longer run (I'm pretty sure I may have whined to a trash can about my quads just a couple minutes prior at the aid). From the aid is almost entirely descending into the famed No Hands Bridge at mile 96.8, but at that point descending was killing me. I hobbled down like a drunk college kid at Spring break on a Florida beach strip, sighing and gasping as the impact was getting more and more painful. At one point I tried to run to see what it felt like, and Derek offered this:
"Yeah, you're actually hiking faster than you're running, so, I'd just stick with that."
We both set a goal to ensure I would break 23 hours by the finish (which in retrospect was a rather soft goal but seeing how I was waddling down the descent Derek thought it might be challenging at that moment). I continued to hobble awkwardly down and once we heard some cars on the highway we knew we had about another half mile before reaching the bridge. The pace was disappointingly slow for what otherwise would've been very easy running and descending, but we made it down nonetheless. Just like Quarry Road aid, it was one hell of a party scene, with blaring loud music and lights adorned on the bridge. I told Derek we were NOT stopping as I was already going slow enough. It would be the second party of the night we entered and exited without imbibing on a single cocktail. The bridge was cool though, even if we were hiking across it. It was probably somewhere around 3am, and now all we had left was 5K to the finish.
From No Hands Bridge you make your way up to Robie Point (mile 98.9), the last climb on the course. It is flat for a little while and then you start climbing gradually before it steepens and you cross a couple creeks. In the early on before the real climbing began I was passed by almost half a dozen runners, which demoralized me even more but motivated me to move faster. Once the climbing became significant, I actually enjoyed it because going uphill was far less painful on the quads. Derek and I ended up hiking the steep portion very swiftly, to the point that we passed every runner that went by me just 10 or so minutes prior. I kept my swift pace as I badly wanted to reach the top and I knew this was it.
Start to Robie Point (mile 98.9): 22hrs 25min elapsed, 13:36 overall pace, 73rd place
We blew through Robie Point and crested to the top where we landed on the residential streets of Auburn and had just a mile to the finish. We saw a lit up decoration of Santa in his sleigh that read "Merry Statesmas" which was super cool. I decided that I needed to pick up my feet and run to the finish (really, it was a waddle, but at mile 99 it sure felt like I was running). Derek and I navigated the last stretch on the roads before seeing Placer High School and making the joyous entrance onto the track. Dan was right there at the entrance, almost surprised to see me, and jumped in with Derek to pace me into the finish and captured awesome video.
This year was odd as the infield of the high school was demolished as they were preparing to put in artificial turf, so I had to enter the track on the far side and run for a portion before doing a u-turn and finishing in the opposite direction we typically do. I did not care though, as I was thrilled to be finishing. I heard Tropical John Medinger on the PA announce my name and I put my hand up in victory and Dan let out a roar. Upon crossing to the finishing side there was none other than AJW out there screaming for me. I gave him a huge high five and he slapped me hard on the back telling me to "enjoy these last hundred yards." Just before getting to the finish I saw my wife and son for the first time since Foresthill almost 10 hours ago. I was shocked they were both there as it was 3:42am, and I could see just how sleepy Miles was in particular. I asked Zhi if I could carry Miles in, and we did so. Miles was a bit reluctant and oblivious to what was going on, but he obliged and it was amazing to come into the finish line with my son.
Start to Finish (mile 100.2): 22hrs 42min 48sec, 13:36 overall pace, 73rd place overall, Silver Buckle
Upon finishing there was an open chair and I sat down almost immediately, giving a hug to Derek and Dan, and then pouring into tears as Zhi came over and gave me an embrace with Miles. Then, a few moments later AJW came over to give me a hug and debrief on how the whole day went down. I just couldn't believe it was all over and I successfully claimed my revenge. At the age of 42 I ran the race 4 hours and 2 minutes faster than in 2010, and I earned the coveted silver belt buckle. However, the revenge did not come without a fight and at times a complete war. It was a race marred with highs and lows, and not the type of race where the suffering was linear. It was quite the non-linear experience, having low points in the 1st and last quarter with high points in the 2nd and 3rd. After about 10-15 minutes, we decided to leave and I could barely get out of my chair. I had to literally hold onto Derek to walk over to our car.
"Just put it in a bun and give it to me!" (desperation tone)
I promised I would get back to Dan. When I was still out finishing the course with Derek he made it back to the finish line after his unpleasant experience walking to the parking lot to frustratingly find the vehicle at Pointed Rocks aid. Waiting for me at the finish line he was apparently quite "hangry." There was food being offered at the track for finishers and pacers, and the wonderful volunteer let hangry Dan know they had veggie patties which is exactly what he wanted. However, Dan was so eager to have his food that when she offered to cook it nice and warm, his patience was so low and desperation so high it triggered the above response (I love what being hangry can do to us men).
Aftermath
We went back to the hotel, slept hardly at all, and woke up to watch the "Golden Hour" on the track (this is from 10am - 11am where the last runners are fighting to get in before the cut off of 30 hours). We watched one runner get in with less than a minute to spare which was thrilling! We then attended the award ceremony, where I received my precious silver buckle hardware.
"There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness."
-Alexandre Dumas
Just after 9:30pm, we made it down to the Rucky Chucky near side aid station. It took 3 hours and 32 minutes to complete the river section, which was a pivotal success and one that gave me huge relief. However, my excitement started to quickly crumble as I looked around for my wife and son and could not find them. I asked Dan if he saw them, and he said no. Then we saw our friend Mike Oliva (who I'd also seen at Michigan Bluff), and asked him in an almost desperate tone if he'd seen my wife or crew. My heart sunk even further when he told me no. On the tactical level, I still did not have a headlamp and there was a long dark night ahead of me. I blurted this out to Dan, who merely nodded in agreement but obviously had no solution. Then, a random stranger next to Mike said I could borrow her headlamp. That was a big tactical relief, and I thanked and assured her she could get it back at the finish line. Dan and I agreed that we would cross the river and keep going (and perhaps see if my family and crew had decided to be on the far side of the river, which was an absolute longshot, but still some hope).
Start to Rucky Chucky (Cal 2) (mile 78): 16hrs 33min elapsed, 12:43 overall pace, 76th place
This year because of the snowfall in the Sierra the river levels were far too high to wade across, and so we were escorted across via rafts. We had volunteers promptly put life jackets on us and before we knew it we were on the river and being helped off on the far side.
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| Rucky Chucky (American River) Crossing (Worried about my Family) |
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| DZ making his way across |
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| DZ making his way across |
After crossing to the far side, there is a place where drop bags are. I had one with extra shoes, but decided against changing as I did not plunge in the river as I thought I may. Instead, I held a brief hope that somehow Zhi and Miles were over there, and quickly saw they were not. Dan and I pressed on reluctantly. There is a fairly steep 2 mile climb out of the river up to Green Gate aid (mile 80), and it was here that I went from concerned to frantic.
"Dan, I am worried sick about them. Where could they possibly be?"
"Don't worry man, I'm sure they are fine."
"You don't understand man. If you think I'm a planner, Zhi is 3x more. She would not miss this aid station. It took us 3.5 hours to get from Foresthill to the river, the crew instructions said to allow 45 minutes with shuttle time to get there via car from Foresthill. There's simply no way it took them more than 3.5 hours. What if they got in an accident? What if they are hurt? Dude I'm freaking out now!"
Dan mostly listened at this point, while trying to offer consolation even though he had no clue either and was probably concerned too. Then I asked him if he had his phone, and he said yes. He told me he had not received any calls or texts, which of course fueled my despair even further. I asked him, "can you please try to call one of them?" Dan agreed and started dialing, and it appeared he was successful in reaching Derek, who would be pacing me at Pointed Rocks Mile 94. In order not to destroy my race momentum, Dan and I quickly agreed that I would keep hiking up to Green Gate and he would catch up to me.
The hike up to Green Gate felt like the longest, loneliest stretch of my entire life. I knew Dan had connected with Derek, and so I assumed he would be catching up to me any minute. But it didn't happen. 5 minutes went by. Then 10. Then 15. And my mind was now in a full torrent of disaster.
"Why is the conversation lasting so long? Derek must be conveying to Dan that something terrible has happened....."
I sincerely believed at this point that Dan was going to find me and tell me they were in a severe car accident and the hospital, or worse....and then I started to become desperately impatient for Dan to arrive as I couldn't bear to stay in my deteriorated state of mind much longer. The uncertainty was now quite literally driving me crazy. I kept looking down the climb to see if Dan was coming up, and hollered his name a few times. Then, alas, I saw a headlamp bobbing and I knew it was him. I gasped and held my breath........
"Dude, they are fine. They got held up with the shuttles."
I immediately burst into loud tears, nearly sobbing. I told Dan that my brain spinned even further out of control on the lonely hike up, believing that Derek was debriefing him on a horrific accident that just happened (the reality of the matter is that Dan was going back and forth with reception issues so it took multiple efforts to get a signal). I told him I was ready to rip my bib off and call it quits, and was just so relieved they were fine. I knew I needed to take a deep breath, wipe my tears away, and focus on the next 20 miles to get to the finish line. We arrived into Green Gate shortly after, and went by without stopping. Ironically, along the way Dan started to get texts and missed calls as we entered pockets that had reception (my wife of course had texted and called him letting him know they were late, but reception is sparse on the remote course so we received it nearly 2 hours later).
Start to Green Gate (mile 80): 17hrs 00min elapsed, 12:46 overall pace, 66th place
The River to the Finish (mile 80 to 100.2)
"My quads are trashed."
"Nighttime blows."
"I want to be finished."
"Ultras suck."
They say the last 20 miles are among the most runnable of the entire course, and we had 5 miles to get to the Auburn Lakes aid at mile 85. However, it was 10pm and pitch dark, and while I was experiencing hamstring and ankle issues 15 hours earlier in the race in the high country, I was now experiencing nearly blown quads at mile 80. While I felt thankful my hamstrings and ankle never flared up again, I knew my quads had reached the point of no return. Every time I tried to run was too painful, especially on the downhills, and so I regressed to a power hike with Dan with short stretches of painful jogging. It is here where my general mood took a nosedive. When I reach this far in a 100 mile race my mind naturally becomes obsessed with getting to the finish line as fast as possible, yet I could not run anymore and am terrible with navigating at night even on fresh legs. However, I started calculating splits in my head and knew that I was well under a 24 hour goal and the only real consequence to not being able to run was breaking 22. So we marched on, and I would occasionally kick rocks and curse, and made sure to let Dan know how shitty I thought this trail was (again on fresh legs and daytime it is likely buttery awesome). We reached Auburn Lakes Trail aid, where jovial volunteers were leering us into having broth with white rice. Dan perked up like a kid in a candy store, and I wanted to barf just at the idea of it (my stomach was well past wanting to have something like rice even if it was soggy in a broth). Still, I was cojoled into having a cup, in which I reluctantly tried to suck down without vomiting. I restocked with gels and my electrolyte bottle, and Dan said:
"Yo E I'll catch up with you in a minute, this is some good shit!"
Dan was a happy camper, and I was a miserable sap.
Start to Auburn Lakes Trail (mile 85.2): 18hrs 23min elapsed, 12:56 overall pace, 69th place
The next section to Quarry Road aid was 5+ miles and the experience was nearly indistinguishable from the previous section. I lamented every time I kicked a rock or a root I couldn't see, continued to mainly hike, and was obsessed on the Placer HS track. Fortunately, things were uneventful otherwise and an hour and a half later we arrived at the Quarry Road aid station. This aid was quite a spectacle, with loud music blaring and christmas looking lights adorned around the aid. I wish I could say I enjoyed every moment of it and sat down and joined the party, but all it did was make my eardrums hurt and so I merely thanked everyone and spent very little time before departing on.
Start to Quarry Road (mile 90.7): 19hrs 55min elapsed, 13:10 overall pace, 72nd place
Leaving this aid you have a descent down to the creek where you have several small crossings before you began a significant climb which starts out on easier fire roads before going back to technical singletrack. Before the singletrack we came across another runner named Vincent from Spain, who asked if he could hike the climb with us as I believe he was having headlamp issues (or he wanted company, I was too exhausted to really remember or care). Both Dan and I told him clearly that we were past the point of running, and he exuberantly exclaimed that he did not want to run the climb whatsoever. So we filed one by one, with Dan leading and Vincent trailing me. And it was in this 2 mile difficult ascent that led to all 6 of my black toenails. Dan and Vincent got a front row seat to my emerging Tourrret's syndrome. It very much went like this:
"Ouch! FAHK!"
"Owwww! FUHUUK!"
"This headlamp sucks! I wish I had my Petzl!"
"AHHH! FAHKER!
"OUCH! Mother FAHK YOU!
"This headlamp sucks! I wish I had my Petzl!"
While I thought my lowest moment was complaining to amputee Dave Mackey about a sore ankle, or thinking my family had passed away in a car accident, I think this section competed for my spot at mental rock bottom. Not my finest hour. The trail was not only steep and narrow but rocky, so I was quite literally kicking and stubbing my toes seemingly every other minute as I was no longer picking my feet up at the level required. It hurt, and I knew I would have some destroyed toenails. I also blamed it on the spare headlamp which in reality had nothing to do with it, rather my clumsiness and exhaustion was the culprit as neither Dan nor Vincent were kicking rocks. We crossed HWY 49 where the aid station used to be, only to have to keep climbing up the meadow in Cool to the Pointed Rocks aid at mile 94 where Derek was waiting to pace me in to the finish. It felt never ending, and I made sure to vocally complain about that as well, multiple times. We arrived in what felt like an eternity to see Derek I gave Dan the spare headlamp and got my Petzl on from Derek. I gave Dan a big hug and thanked him for what was a stellar pacing effort. He handled almost 34 miles of the course, including texting and talking on the phone to crew when I worried my family had died in a car accident, and keeping me psychologically motivated and spirited. Despite my slowdown from mile 80 to 94 we actually hit my pacing goals overall. After a couple minutes Derek and I were off to finish this sucker.
Start to Pointed Rocks (mile 94.0): 21hrs 04min elapsed, 13:24 overall pace, 70th place
As Derek and I began, my deplorably bad mood apparently rubbed off on Dan, who needed to get back to the parking lot to retrieve the vehicle Derek brought to the aid. Apparently the parking lot was a decent walk from the actual aid station, and Dan was having none of it.
"Where the hell is this parking lot?! What kind of people put an aid station that makes you walk a half mile! This is ridiculous!"
Once Dan got to the parking lot he endured more difficulty trying to find the actual vehicle, which led to more obscenities. He did find the vehicle though. More on him later.
I told Derek my quads were trashed and I could no longer run (I'm pretty sure I may have whined to a trash can about my quads just a couple minutes prior at the aid). From the aid is almost entirely descending into the famed No Hands Bridge at mile 96.8, but at that point descending was killing me. I hobbled down like a drunk college kid at Spring break on a Florida beach strip, sighing and gasping as the impact was getting more and more painful. At one point I tried to run to see what it felt like, and Derek offered this:
"Yeah, you're actually hiking faster than you're running, so, I'd just stick with that."
We both set a goal to ensure I would break 23 hours by the finish (which in retrospect was a rather soft goal but seeing how I was waddling down the descent Derek thought it might be challenging at that moment). I continued to hobble awkwardly down and once we heard some cars on the highway we knew we had about another half mile before reaching the bridge. The pace was disappointingly slow for what otherwise would've been very easy running and descending, but we made it down nonetheless. Just like Quarry Road aid, it was one hell of a party scene, with blaring loud music and lights adorned on the bridge. I told Derek we were NOT stopping as I was already going slow enough. It would be the second party of the night we entered and exited without imbibing on a single cocktail. The bridge was cool though, even if we were hiking across it. It was probably somewhere around 3am, and now all we had left was 5K to the finish.
From No Hands Bridge you make your way up to Robie Point (mile 98.9), the last climb on the course. It is flat for a little while and then you start climbing gradually before it steepens and you cross a couple creeks. In the early on before the real climbing began I was passed by almost half a dozen runners, which demoralized me even more but motivated me to move faster. Once the climbing became significant, I actually enjoyed it because going uphill was far less painful on the quads. Derek and I ended up hiking the steep portion very swiftly, to the point that we passed every runner that went by me just 10 or so minutes prior. I kept my swift pace as I badly wanted to reach the top and I knew this was it.
Start to Robie Point (mile 98.9): 22hrs 25min elapsed, 13:36 overall pace, 73rd place
We blew through Robie Point and crested to the top where we landed on the residential streets of Auburn and had just a mile to the finish. We saw a lit up decoration of Santa in his sleigh that read "Merry Statesmas" which was super cool. I decided that I needed to pick up my feet and run to the finish (really, it was a waddle, but at mile 99 it sure felt like I was running). Derek and I navigated the last stretch on the roads before seeing Placer High School and making the joyous entrance onto the track. Dan was right there at the entrance, almost surprised to see me, and jumped in with Derek to pace me into the finish and captured awesome video.
This year was odd as the infield of the high school was demolished as they were preparing to put in artificial turf, so I had to enter the track on the far side and run for a portion before doing a u-turn and finishing in the opposite direction we typically do. I did not care though, as I was thrilled to be finishing. I heard Tropical John Medinger on the PA announce my name and I put my hand up in victory and Dan let out a roar. Upon crossing to the finishing side there was none other than AJW out there screaming for me. I gave him a huge high five and he slapped me hard on the back telling me to "enjoy these last hundred yards." Just before getting to the finish I saw my wife and son for the first time since Foresthill almost 10 hours ago. I was shocked they were both there as it was 3:42am, and I could see just how sleepy Miles was in particular. I asked Zhi if I could carry Miles in, and we did so. Miles was a bit reluctant and oblivious to what was going on, but he obliged and it was amazing to come into the finish line with my son.
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| Finish Line - Last Second of my Race! |
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| Finish Line - Happy and Exhausted |
Start to Finish (mile 100.2): 22hrs 42min 48sec, 13:36 overall pace, 73rd place overall, Silver Buckle
Upon finishing there was an open chair and I sat down almost immediately, giving a hug to Derek and Dan, and then pouring into tears as Zhi came over and gave me an embrace with Miles. Then, a few moments later AJW came over to give me a hug and debrief on how the whole day went down. I just couldn't believe it was all over and I successfully claimed my revenge. At the age of 42 I ran the race 4 hours and 2 minutes faster than in 2010, and I earned the coveted silver belt buckle. However, the revenge did not come without a fight and at times a complete war. It was a race marred with highs and lows, and not the type of race where the suffering was linear. It was quite the non-linear experience, having low points in the 1st and last quarter with high points in the 2nd and 3rd. After about 10-15 minutes, we decided to leave and I could barely get out of my chair. I had to literally hold onto Derek to walk over to our car.
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| Emotional Moments with my Family |
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| The Crew! |
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| With Coach AJW |
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| Holding onto Derek |
"Just put it in a bun and give it to me!" (desperation tone)
I promised I would get back to Dan. When I was still out finishing the course with Derek he made it back to the finish line after his unpleasant experience walking to the parking lot to frustratingly find the vehicle at Pointed Rocks aid. Waiting for me at the finish line he was apparently quite "hangry." There was food being offered at the track for finishers and pacers, and the wonderful volunteer let hangry Dan know they had veggie patties which is exactly what he wanted. However, Dan was so eager to have his food that when she offered to cook it nice and warm, his patience was so low and desperation so high it triggered the above response (I love what being hangry can do to us men).
Aftermath
We went back to the hotel, slept hardly at all, and woke up to watch the "Golden Hour" on the track (this is from 10am - 11am where the last runners are fighting to get in before the cut off of 30 hours). We watched one runner get in with less than a minute to spare which was thrilling! We then attended the award ceremony, where I received my precious silver buckle hardware.
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| The Bling! |
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| Kay Jewelers does not sell these! |
"There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness."
-Alexandre Dumas
I cannot thank my wife Zhi, son Miles, friends Dan, Derek, and Katherine, coach AJW, and friends and family afar enough for the support in conquering this quest. The race will be forever etched in my long-term memory and I'm so grateful for the experience and opportunity. Running 100 milers are incredibly difficult, yet provide me with the tools necessary to perform well in my regular life. Because life floods you with opportunities and setbacks, happiness and misery, and everything in between, just as 100 mile races do. The only difference is the 100 mile race has its way of compressing the full spectrum of life all into one day.
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| My son Miles made this in his Pre-K class when we returned! |
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