Background:
The simple truth
is that I had not planned to attempt the Western States 100 mile endurance
event in 2006, nor was this ever a serious goal of mine. Oh, I had joked
about it some 20 years ago when an older running buddy of mine told me
he was training to enter Western States. He was in his fifties and I was
only in my thirties. Kidding, I told him I was too young to run 100 miles
and would stick to shorter events like 5ks, 10ks, and marathons. Maybe
when I turned fifty, I’d be mature enough. By my mid forties I still ran
mostly typical road races, but on the encouragement from friends I tried
my first 50k trail run in Arizona, the Crown King Scramble. I was humbled.
I was forced to walk long steep sections that I could not believe anyone
could run, but somehow people did. Since meeting Melissa in 1997, I ran
more and more on trails and entered only a few “road races”. I found that
running remote and isolated trails offered a refreshing change from the
rigors of beating the clock on pavement. As a road racer my enjoyment depended
on winning medals and running fast times, and for me that meant exceptional
and disciplined training. As a trail runner I found that just being there
was enjoyable.
Circumstance:
In the spring
of 2005, Melissa and I were invited to visit friends and enter our 1st
official 50-mile event, ‘The Bishop High Sierra 50’, and the distance had
me worried. I’d done some longish runs on trails including a 50 mile section
during a multi-day event, and knew that I’d need extra stamina, so I tried
to train for this some weeks in advance. As I recall, injuries kept both
of us from training at 100%, but we still went. Our friends, Larry
and Linda Emerson, who live in Bishop, mentioned that a run in less than
10 ½ hours would qualify for Western States. This was never my intention
but it was a great distraction. So I paced as best I could, and managed
a time of 10:12; and yet, I knew then that I’d never complete 100 miles
on that level of training. I was utterly spent at 40 miles. A second fifty
miles was out of the question.
I entered the
lottery for Western States anyway, thinking I would not get selected and
that would be the end of it. On December 3rd 2005 my name was chosen.
I had six months to train, and if I did not feel prepared I’d ‘just say
no’.
Training:
First off, I
had agreed to be a marathon pacer in January. My pace time turned out to
be 3:20 and I trained hard to be able to run that fast. But my training
fell short, this time due to some kind of holiday illness that hit just
when I needed to put in my final long runs. I struggled to run a 3:22,
and if you are ever pacing a marathon at 3:20, those last 2 minutes are
a bit like running naked in front of a thousand spectators. No fun at all.
An Achilles injury
hit while recovering from my marathon, but I was able to recover enough
to run the Coyote 4-Play in February and get several days of trail running
with Melissa and the infamous Jaboys. March gave me another chance at the
Crown King Scramble, I ran a slow time, as I was treating this as a WS
training run, and was still only getting in about 50 miles a week. In April
I finally recovered fully from recent illness and injury and was able to
boost my mileage to nearly 70 miles a week, concentrating on a longish
2 to 3 hour run on Wednesdays and over 5 hours Saturdays on steep trails.
I added extra miles walking on “rest” days, and as warm-ups and cool downs
to daily runs. After 4 weeks of higher mileage I ran the Zane Grey Highline
50 miler- my second official 50. The time was not impressive, 12:53, but
again I was not fully rested and ended the week at 77 miles.
By May I was
able to push beyond that, now getting in 3 hour Wednesday runs and still
building on those Saturday long trail runs. I concentrated on running long
and slow and avoided the temptation to compete. At the Whiskey Row Marathon
I ran as a bandit jogging with a buddy and carrying my own fluids the entire
way. I followed that with 4 hours of hiking Mt Humphrey’s the next day
giving me 80 miles for the week. The next week brought 82 miles, and the
week ending on May 21st totaled 86 miles.
Melissa joined
me the last week in May for a first-look at the WS trail. Over 3 days we
ran nearly the last 68 miles of the course, giving me a chance to see what
I’d, in all likelihood, be running at night. I ended the week with a solid
89 miles and an urgent desire to practice running at night. This was my
goal for the first week of June. I switched a couple of my day runs to
“night runs” trying to get away from the city lights by running in the
desert and getting some practice in the fine art of simultaneously managing
a headlamp and a flashlight and my water bottles. Finally I decided I needed
even more. So, I began my long run for the week at 8pm Friday night on
the fire roads of Mt Ord, finishing well after 4am on Saturday. It was
spooky running alone all night, but quite effective. I knew I’d be giving
up some speed at night, but this taught me it could be done. That put me
at 100 miles for the week, with 3 weeks to go. I decided it was time to
cut back, not wishing to risk pushing any harder. So I put in a reduced
but solid week of 82 miles that included a (3 hour) 21 miler on Wednesday,
and a (5:49) 28 miler back at Mt Ord on Saturday - this time during the
day. Now with two weeks to go I cut way back to 30 miles the week ending
June 17th with no running at all the last week.
Things looked well as I was healthy and
well trained
The night before
my planned drive to California, my nose started to drip and felt irritated.
I used saline drops, and took extra vitamin “C”, but by morning it was
worse. During the 10-hour drive all I did was cough, sneeze, and blow my
nose. I camped out at 10,000 ft elevation and my ears filled with fluid.
I was miserable.
The next day
I drove on to meet my pacers, the very same Larry and Linda Emerson in
Bishop, Ca. I seemed to be getting better, and we mapped out strategy to
shuttle my car to the finish, and provide me my lights for running at night.
On Friday I drove the 5 hours from Bishop to the WS start. I weighed in
at 153 lbs, and got my runners “chip” and assorted goodies, then checked
into a hotel for some R & R.
The Big Day:
Of course a 5
am start means a 3am wake up complete with pre-event jitters which keep
most people from any real sleep. I know I didn’t sleep much. I drove to
Squaw Valley shortly before 4am, and followed the crowds to get my bib,
#330. As runners kept filing in I stopped and chatted with those I knew,
nervously sipping water and the official sports drink this year, GU202.
I was focused and my nose had dried out. I felt fine. My plan was to stay
back and run as easily as possible with a goal of reaching my pacer, Larry,
at Mile 62. After that would be plenty of time to run fast, if I could
even run. I was aware of what the 24-hour pace times were for the first
3 aid stations, as well as at mile 55, and mile 62. Unfortunately, I have
never even seen the first 35 miles of this course.
Shortly before
5am I’m queued up to the ‘start’, with about 395 others, at the base of
the Squaw Valley ski slope, looking skywards towards the “Escarpment” with
obvious snow drifts high above us. It’s cool, almost chilly, at our 6,000
ft elevation. I have everything I think I need until darkness sets in;
In my waist pack are: extra socks, sun glasses, blister tape, extra powdered
sports drink, Ibuprofen, several doses of vitamin “c” with electrolyte,
a few pouches of “Shot Bloks”, a fruit flavored sports food that is easily
eaten with very little water and very digestible, plus one small packet
of dried plums for good measure. I wear shorts, a long sleeved white synthetic
top, a while hat, and a big bandana around my neck. My shoes are a tried
and trusted pair of Pearl Izumis. They will have to do. I have no drop
bags.
The Escarpment: -mile 3.5
At 5am the march
up to the “Escarpment” begins. Those few that are racing have plenty of
room to get out in front, the other 95% of us are content to just march
forward and occasionally jog in places where it levels out. My projected
time to the top is about an hour, and it is so steep that trying to go
any faster is a waste of energy. Along the way I talk with Gordy Ainsly,
the first person to run this course 33 years ago when his horse pulled
up lame. This is his 21st WS at age 59. It is my 1st at age 54.
He tells me there is not anything you can do to improve your time by pushing
harder here, but you can ruin your day by trying.
About an hour
later we pass a small aid station that marks the 3.5 mile mark, there are
still a few short climbs but we have basically topped out. Beyond is a
maze of snow and rock, surrounded by peaks on all sides.
Lyon Ridge- the shape of things to come:-mile
11.5
The next aid
station is Lyon Ridge, 7 miles down hill, and it will set the tone for
much of the day. When conditions are good, there is little snow, and it’s
not too wet. Getting there in a bit over an hour is not so hard - it is
one of the fastest sections. We hit lots of snow, slippery snow, the kind
that gives out when you put your weight on it and you sink backwards or
sideways, or spiral out of control. I tried to avoid crowds as I saw that
they formed mini traffic jams. Every time a lead runner would stop to figure
where to step everyone behind would come up to screeching halt just as
in rush hour on a city highway. These delays couldn’t be avoided short
of taking the risk of running fast enough to pass off-trail on dangerous
snow and rock.
As we descended,
the snowmelt formed streams that either crossed the trail or took over
the trail, along with that: mud. The fact that I had no dry shoes waiting
for me later did slow me down, as I tried to sidestep the deepest pools
of water and mud. Here is where the 24-hour runner has to just splash away
and be done with it. In spite of my caution my feet still got soaked. To
boot, I probably saved very little, if any, energy. By the time I made
it to Lyon Ridge it was 7:34 am. I was 34 minutes slower than 24 hour pace,
and even 14 minutes slower than 30 hour pace. I was just thinking of survival.
Red Star Ridge- Mile 17
As the snow lessened and there were fewer
swollen streams the running got somewhat better. The views were picture
postcard spectacular, and I found the 80-degree temperature just fine.
I got to Red Star Ridge at 8:53pm, now 8 minutes under 30-hour time and
only 23 minutes behind 24-hour time.
Robinson Flat- 1st weigh in-mile 24.6
Still at around 7,000 feet the trail stays
on a ridgeline with ever-present 360-degree views.
I completely
lost track of time during this section. My weight came in at 150, down
3 lbs, which meant I needed to drink more, and I did. I was in the habit
of drinking 3 or 4 glasses of a mix of water, soda, and sports drink at
each aid station besides eating something. I was also slowly consuming
my own supply of food and sports drink. I always left each aid station
with two full 24oz bottles of fluid. My waist pack has side slots to carry
them but I usually carried one in each hand.
The record shows
me hitting Robinson at 12:15, but that has to be wrong since I would have
been DQ’ed at 12:00. I think it was 11:15, right about 30 hour pace.
Dusty Corners- 38 miles
Pulling into
Dusty Corners meant I was finally out of unknown terrain and onto trails
I’d run a month ago as practice. This was a boost to my confidence. It
also meant I was entering the “Canyons” at lower elevations and extreme
heat. I felt fine and was able to run smoothly on the easy down hills,
conserving strength by walking the up hills. I hit “Dusty” at 2:10 pm,
about 50 minutes too slow for 24-hours, but 50 minutes ahead of 30-hours.
Last Chance, and a big mistake-43.3
miles
By this time
the temps were over 90 degrees and I had started the practice of putting
ice under my hat and wrapping ice inside my bandana. I also made sure my
bottles had ice as well. When I got to Last Chance my weight was up to
155, and I was told to have some soup to get some extra salt. While I questioned
this logic, someone put a soup in my hands as my bottles were being filled.
I got my ice, ate a bite of something and took off with full bottles, ice
in my hat and ice in my bandana; but I forgot to drink extra cold fluids
as I was distracted by the soup.
It is very good
running for 3 miles from Last Chance to the bottom of Deadwood Canyon.
The first miles on this fire road are gradual; then they morph into steeper
switchbacks. My icy hat/bandana, and the fact that I could drink ice-cold
liquids masked the heat of the canyon. Besides, I was running fast enough
to make my own breeze all the way down. . By the time I hit bottom my ice
had melted, and there remained only a ½ bottle of warm liquid.
The temperatures
were over 100 degrees, and the air was humid and still. Ahead lay the dreaded
36 switchbacks up to Devil’s Thumb, probably the hardest climb of the whole
event.
I realized my
mistake but it was too late. Within 20 minutes of steep climbing I drank
half my remaining water. Ten minutes later it was gone and I had well over
a mile of climbing to go. I was not alone in this predicament, and I passed
a few runners standing/leaning against a tree, lifeless and miserable.
I dared not stop. I did not need rest; I needed fluids. I told myself then
that I would simply bail out once I got to Devil’s Thumb. I was thru. They
could take my number and haul me away. I knew that the next canyon was
nearly as bad and even longer. My legs were wobbly, I was dizzy, my stomach
was getting queasy, and my head began to ache. These are bad signs. I’d
heard about runners that had to be airlifted out of the canyon, and I did
not want to be one. However, once I had given myself permission to quit,
I felt a wave of peace come over me.
The Angel of Devils’ Thumb-47.8 miles
I don’t recall
much from there until all of a sudden I was at Devil’s Thumb and an attractive
woman with a big warm smile was talking to me, saying “You look great!”
What can I get for you?”, Why don’t you sit down while we fill your bottles?.
I looked up at her in amazement, thinking, “How could I look good? I don’t
look good even after a shower, a shave and fancy clothes.” Next thing I
was drinking cold fluids, and the “Angel of Devil’s Thumb” was returning
with my bottles freshly filled. “What can I get you to eat?” I thought
a bit, “Maybe some fruit? “What kind”? “We have strawberries, melon, apples,
grapes, oranges, banana…” I opted for strawberries and melon and she returned
with about a pound of fruit in a baggie. “I brought you extra. You know
the next aid station is 5 miles away and there is no food there, only liquids.
Then you have a 3-mile climb to Michigan Bluff.”
Refreshed and
re-supplied I realized that all I had to do was run downhill five miles.
I’d get fresh drinks BEFORE having to climb out of the next canyon, and
my crew, Larry and Linda, would be waiting at the top. As I rose from my
chair, the Angel suggested, “How about a popsicle? We have root beer, grape,
cherry…” “Cherry!” I interrupted. And soon I was heading out of Devil’s
Thumb with ice under my hat, ice wrapped in my bandana, fruit in my pack,
full bottles of iced drink, and a cherry Popsicle. It was 4:50pm.
I was 1 hour and 20 minutes slower than 24-hour pace, and 1 hour ahead
of 30-hour pace. I had hit one of those “low points” and gotten over it.
In fact I never thought about quitting after that.
El Dorado Creek- 52.9 miles
Running down
to El Dorado Creek felt pretty good and I projected I’d meet my crew sometime
around 7:30pm. The days were so long that it stayed light until 9pm. The
question was whether I’d make to Foresthill by 9pm to get my lights. I
figured it would be close, but maybe Larry and Linda would bring my lights
to Michigan Bluff. At the aid station I got my bottles refilled and dumped
what fruit I had left. Time to climb out, only this time with fresh drinks!
Michigan Bluff – greeting from my crew
– 55.7 miles
As I entered
Michigan Bluff Linda jumped out of the crowd and ran down the trail to
greet me with arms held high. “You look great!” she lied convincingly,
and then added, “Can I get you anything? Larry’s here too!”
I rushed off to the weight check, now about 157 lbs, got more fluids, more
ice, ate a piece of turkey sandwich and maybe 2 potato chips. As I was
now feeling sore, I popped 400mg of Ibuprofen. I knew it was something
over 6 miles to Foresthill. The time was about 7:20. Could I make it by
9pm, before dark? I asked Larry and he said confidently that even if I
didn’t, the road into town could be easily run without lights. I remembered
our training run and he was right. So I took off saying. ” See you at 9
o’clock!” while thinking; “I hope.”
Bath Hill – on the outskirts of town
– 60.6 miles
Half of the way
to Bath Hill is down hill and I ran that slowly but with confidence as
I felt the Ibuprofen kick in. The second half is uphill, not steep like
the canyons but steep enough that a fast walk was all that I could manage.
By now the temperature had cooled off and at the aid station one of my
bottles was still full and still cold. It was still light as well!
Foresthill! Get a pacer! Get lights! -62
miles
Once again Linda
jumped out to greet me, and I got my lights within minutes of nightfall.
I weighed in at 156, ate a few bites, and drank some extra fluid. I saw
a runner I knew was now wearing street clothes, as he had dropped out.
When I got to Larry he told me the drop list was over 100 and growing.
Just as we left town I put one light around my waist and held another in
one hand. I’d practiced and was glad as it takes some getting used to.
We actually missed the trail exit, it was already getting dark, and soon
we were running in the night.
Peachstone ½ way to the river-70.7
miles
Larry kept me
distracted by telling me of all the runners he knew that had dropped, and
that we were making good time. With so many miles left I refused to think
of anything beyond the next aid station. I could run slowly on the downhill
sections that were not too rocky or rutted; but, as I knew from my practice
run, there were a nasty washed-out trail ahead that was even difficult
with fresh legs and in daylight. We just went slowly and carefully. I fell
in one stream crossing, getting both feet wet for the first time in many
hours. With the sensation of cool water came a stinging the back of my
heels. ‘Houston, we have a problem’. Both socks were severed where they
rubbed my shoe at the Achilles, and I had rubbed off the skin against my
shoes. I needed to address this sooner or later. I told Larry and he agreed
I should do something; he even reminded me that usually there is a foot
clinic at the river crossing. The question was whether to wait that long.
Mentally I was having difficulty with simple numbers and thought I didn’t
have time to slow. I kept coming up with the rough estimate of having 8
hours to run the last 20 miles and coming to the incorrect result of needing
to run 4 miles an hour instead of 2.5 miles an hour. Once Larry corrected
me I felt better. I think it was at Peachstone where I sat down, took off
my shoes, dried my feet, taped the raw spots, and put on fresh, dry socks.
What a huge improvement this was. I had noticed that my supply of ibuprofen
had spilled inside my pack, leaving me with only a few half-pills, the
rest were reduced to an orange mush. I took what I had, and told Larry.
He said Linda could re-supply me. So we headed out into the night. It was
11:38pm.
Rucky Chucky crossing the river by raft
-78 miles
It was a very
long stretch from Peachstone to the river. Ford’s Bar, another aid station,
was a welcome break where I got more fluid, but with the night’s cooler
air I was no longer drinking all my water and sports drink. I remember
thinking that it had been far too many hours (like 12) since I felt the
urge to pee, and was relieved (get it) that just after Ford’s Bar I finally
did so. Still, when I got weighed at Rucky Chucky I came in at 157, and
was told I needed more salts. Again soup was offered and I sipped a cup
of it while waiting in line to board the next available raft. In previous
years people just waded across, but this year the current was much too
strong. They do a great job with this and I only had to wait about 10 minutes
when a slot came open. I took it and Larry waited for the next raft load.
Greengate -79.8
It’s a steep
climb from the river to Greengate, maybe a mile, so I just walked it and
soon Larry was walking next to me. It only took him just 12 minutes to
do so.
Linda greeted
us up top and Larry asked her for ibuprofen, which she produced immediately.
Soon we were off. It was just before 3am. The 24-hour time was next to
impossible, but I was over 2 hours faster than 30-hour time. At this point
I just wanted to finish and really was unconcerned with my finishing time,
as long as I came in under 30 hours.
Browns Bar-89.9
I know I could
have run much of this section but I didn’t. This was partly due to the
fear of tripping over something, and partly because I’d never run so long
or so far and did not want to “overdo it”. Looking back, I could have run
a lot more than I did. As I had now been going for over 24 hours it was
just my good fortune to find an outhouse at Brown’s Bar, just when I needed
one! If not, it could have been ugly trying to find a spot in the forest
filled with poison oak. It is now that “in between” stage when night is
turning to dawn and the light is slowly returning. Our lights are becoming
less effective. The shadows are eerie and dream like. For a split second
I see a giant 3-foot tall green Macaw standing beside the trail with its
black beak wide open. Then I only see a bush.
Highway 49- Linda comes to take away
our lights!-93.5
The good news
is that we are now getting close, it is light, and we can see. The bad
news is that it is mostly uphill to Highway 49. I did a lot of walking!
At the Highway,
I weighed 158 lbs, the most yet. The medic asked if I’d been taking salts
and I said, “Yes, every one is telling me to get more salt, and I keep
weighing more. “ He said, “Stop taking salts.” Go figure. Linda relieved
us of our lights and my wet socks and assorted other junk. We are off again;
it is 7:12am on Sunday.
The Finish! - 100.2 miles
After Highway
49, there is another short climb up to a bluff with some very nice single-track
trail amidst grassy fields and some forest. This descends and you can hear
the highway below for a couple miles as in runs parallel to the trail.
Finally the long descent ends at “No Hands Bridge” – now at 96.8 miles.
Again aid is available; I think I drank something. Crossing the bridge
is the last climb. First the trail skirts the American River on your
right and then the climbs get steeper as you head away from the river.
The trail turns into a gravel fire road, and then finally turns to a paved
road as you enter “Robie Point”; a small sub division of Auburn. The climb
continues on for a few blocks with spectators sitting or standing, walking,
even driving and waving. The street has “Welcome to Auburn” written across
it in chalk. Everyone is giving us encouragement. As we finally start downhill
to the stadium, a woman spectator smiles at me and says, “I’ll bet you
must smell awful, but you look fabulous!” I’m thinking, “If I look so good
I ought to be in the movies”.
As we enter the
stadium a friend, Gary, passes me. I hadn’t seen him since Saturday morning
and thought he might have dropped. Happy he has made it after all, I decide
I’ll run the track and overtake him. Larry encourages me to ‘go for it’,
so we take off zipping by everyone on the straightaway, rounding the turn,
and coasting to the finish. It is done!
100 miles! My time was about 28:32
It has been said that you can tell more
about a person because they start
Western States than you can because they finish it. I agree.
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