2019 Way Too Cool 50K

(I obviously haven't posted here in about a year, since before my first DNF at AC100.  But I have written a couple of race reports for other forums, and want to post them here just for my own archival purposes - I have no illusions that anyone reads this stuff but me.  But I'd like to "catch up" so that I can post some reports from this year, which I hope to be a big one!  This is from March 3rd, 2019.)



This was my fifth time at this race, so I know the course and how it runs pretty well.  The first 8 mile loop starts with about a mile on road, a little double track descent down to the first creek crossing, and then rolling single track until you get back to the start.  I've learned to start a little further up in the "corral" than I normally would, and to run the road section just slightly faster than comfortable for me for the start of a 31 mile race as if you get caught too far back when you hit single track the conga line is just going too slow.  In drier years there is a huge backup at the first creek crossing about two miles in as people try to tip-toe across and stay dry.  About year three I learned to just go around it and plow through.  This year there was no trying to stay dry as it was 3' deep, so while it slowed down as people crossed there wasn't a big line.  The conga line I ended up in after that was just about right, if anything maybe 10 seconds/mile or so faster than I wanted to go so I stepped off a couple of times to let people by.  There were six or seven creek crossings that hit from mid-calf to over the knee, and that obviously slowed things down.  And some sections were just super sloppy and you had to pick your way through the muck.  Imagine the wettest, muddiest trail you've been on, and then add almost 300 runners going through right before you mucking it up even more.  That was the first loop.  But I was happy with how it went, according to Strava it was my second fastest loop with an 11:09 pace (behind only a 10:38 pace in 2015 which was a dry year).  The only official timing split on the course was at the end of the loop, and I was 282nd out of 641 starters at that point.

Most of the Knickerbocker Creek loop was like this (pc Facchino Photo)

We then headed through a meadow and start a pretty good drop down to Highway 49.  I got passed by 5-10 runners on the somewhat technical downhill (which was pretty much a creek in parts), which was a little disappointing.  Downhill isn't necessarily my strong suit, but I was taking it more cautiously than others.  I think the IT band issues I've had over the years have made me tentative and less willing to attack them, but I'm to the point now that my ITs are usually good until sometime after mile 50 so I shouldn't be such a wuss.  I also just need to practice technical downhilling more than I have been.  This two mile section drops about 800', and I ran it in 10:23 pace.
 
We crossed the highway where Western States legend Tim Twietmeyer and URP's Eric Schranz were cheering on the runners, and then dropped down on fire road to run above the roaring Middle Fork of the American River.  The rain even let up for the first time, and it looked like it might turn into a nice day as I took off my rain shell and stowed it in my pack.  The fire road rolls along here for about 6 miles with a couple of 150'-200' climbs mixed in.  I passed a few, got passed by a few, and chatted up a few runners.  This section was just another reminder that if I really want to cut my time on a course like this, I need to get faster on the runnable sections.  If I can comfortably run along at 9:00 pace instead of 10:00-10:30 on the flats, that will make a big difference.  With those little climbs mixed in, I ran a decent 11:19 pace through here.

Feet were wet from the start to the finish (pc Facchino Photo)

I was looking forward to starting the climb out of the canyon, as that is my strong suit relative to most other mid-packers and I knew I'd start making up some ground.  Sure enough, I started chewing people up.  I even got three separate comments about how fast I was power hiking as I plowed past.  This section starts with about an 800' climb over four miles, rolls along for a bit, and then ends at almost exactly 26.2 miles with Goat Hill,  1/4 mile with a 20% grade.   I covered this 10 mile section in 2:09, a 12:53 pace.
 
Going into the race I had beating my PR of 5:54 as an A goal, and sub-6:00 as my B goal.  But with the weather forecast and trail conditions I decided to just take the day as it came and see where things stood when I got to the top of Goat Hill.  I didn't print out the pace chart, didn't even look at my watch for the first time until the end of the first loop, and rarely checked it throughout the day.  I hit the aid station at the top of the climb in about 5:10, filled a bottle and drank some coke, and kept going.  With five miles to go including the 450' climb from hwy 49 back to Cool still ahead, I knew it wasn't too likely that I could get in sub-6:00.  But I remembered that the course had measured closer to 30 than 31 miles on my GPS in the past.  "So you're telling me there's a chance!"  I decided to just charge on and see what I could do. 

After another quick climb it was a pretty steep technical descent, losing about 400' in a mile or so.  I did my best to pick my way through the rocks, mud, and water as it started to rain again.  I'm checking my watch as the traffic noises of Highway 49 start to pick up, but it always takes longer than you think it will to finally come out of the clearing and cross the road.  This is the final aid station, and I knew it was over a mile to the finish - and my PR time was already gone, as was the chance at sub-6:00.  So what, let's finish this thing!  I skipped the aid station and kept charging, and began the final climb up to Cool.  I passed another couple of runners on the 250' rocky climb, and then stomped through the mud in the meadow up top.  As I approached the finish I could hear someone splashing behind me, and I kept running hard to try and stay in front.  Around the corner, splashing through the mud while trying not to fall in front of the gathered spectators, and across the line in 6:06:08 chip time.  That was the fastest I've run that segment in my five times here, so I was happy to finish so strong even with my pre-race goals out the window.  This time the course measured the full 31 miles (it's shown exactly 30 miles twice before), which shows how far off gps can be during trail races.

Just trying to finish the last 100 yards without slipping (pc Keather Kehoe)

I finished 238th out of 641 starters which means I moved up 44 spots from mile 8 to the finish, almost all of that on the climbs.  In looking at how I did relative to the rest of the field, this was actually my best finish at 37th percentile, with my other finishes ranging from 43%-67%.  So I'm pretty happy with that.  I stuck to my nutrition plan of gels, electrolyte drink, and coke, and had no issues there.  My knee and my achilles held up. I somehow managed to not fall even once, although I did almost lose it during a late creek crossing.  Afterward it was some chili, burritos, and a couple of IPAs with fellow racers while we commiserated about the conditions out there and tried to get warm.  Good times.

2017 Western States - Not as Tough as I Thought

No, no, I'm not talking about the race itself.  Sure, I had heard from ultrarunners I respect that I'd already run "tougher" 100 milers in Cascade Crest and Pine to Palm.  And those races are tough, no doubt.  But Western States, the supposed "easier 100" was in no way that.  I have never had a better training block.  My diet was as good as it's ever been, I followed the Jason Koop plan of intensity earlier in the year and then had my most consistent volume and vertical ever in the two months leading in to Statesmas.   I took into account my racing over the past five years, what I had learned over four years of pacing and crewing this race, analyzing the Ultrasignup and Ultrasplits data, and I just knew I was capable and ready for a finish around twenty-seven hours. I was ready.

"Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." - Mike Tyson

And then the race started.  Fifteen miles of snow and ice bridges and mud that pulled the shoes off your feet.   It wasn't just me.  All 369 runners got punched right in the mouth.  Any buffer you had against your goals, whether that was a course record, silver buckle, staying ahead of the cutoffs, or my twenty-seven hour goal was simply gone by Red Star Ridge at mile 15.8.  So I found myself in a situation I really didn't imagine, fighting the cutoffs from the start.  But I didn't stress, just like I knew I was in shape for twenty-seven hours, I knew I was tough enough to get this done.  After all, I'd never DNF'd a race.  I've fought wrecked IT bands, trashed quads, a shut down stomach, heat, mud, smoke, and the mountains themselves.  And I'd always made it to the end before the cutoffs.

_______________________________

The University of Kent's Samuele Marcora has published multiple studies that show a common theme - fatigue largely isn't a muscular issue, it's a mental one.  From a December 12, 2014, New Yorker article titled What is Fatigue

"Marcora believes that this limit is probably never truly reached—that fatigue is simply a balance between effort and motivation, and that the decision to stop is a conscious choice rather than a mechanical failure......Considerations like heat, hydration, and muscle conditioning, Marcora says, “are not unreal things, but their effect is mediated by perception of effort.” In other words, they don’t force you to slow down, as happens with the failing frog muscles in the petri dish; they cause you to want to slow down—a semantic difference, perhaps, but a significant one when it comes to testing the outer margins of human capability."

I'd say 100 mile mountain runs in 100+ degree heat qualify for "testing the outer margins of human capability," especially mine.  Thanks largely to the tough conditions in the high country, my goal of a 27 hour finish, one that would have me comfortably ahead of the cutoffs the entire race, was out the window before I hit the fifteen mile mark.  I was behind the average 30-hour finisher splits all day long.  By the time I got to my first pacer, drained from puking on the climb up to Devil's Thumb and another tough climb to Michigan Bluff, I was almost exclusively walking.  I just couldn't run much, I was spent.

With my final pacer.  PC Richard Walstra

But as almost always happens, that external push from Jim got me running a bit more. "Dude, you have to run this part."  I switched pacers at Foresthill and Wally used cajoling and constant pace reminders in an effort to keep me moving faster that I wanted to.  And then Jim picked me up again at the river telling me, "you're probably going to hate me for awhile." He knew he was going to have to push me.  He negotiated, bargained, pleaded, ridiculed, distracted, joked.  Whatever it took to keep me moving faster than I wanted to.  And of course I could.  Oh I was physically fatigued, but my muscles weren't shutting down. "You can puke, but you have to walk while you do it," said Jim at one point Sunday morning near mile 90.  So instead of sitting (again) on the side of the trail, walk I did.  And then I ran, and ran a little more.

_______________________________

Tim Noakes first put forth the Central Governor theory back in the early-2000s.  From an iRunFar article written by Joe Uhan:

"Noakes’s model, the Central Governor Theory, proposes that it is the brain that dictates exercise intensity and duration in order to ensure its own survival.

The brain is inherently selfish: it only cares about itself. It will do anything necessary to ensure it gets a steady flow of oxygen and sugar, and a reliable mechanism for transport. That said, any physical effort that might jeopardize those values will be tightly regulated. If not, the conscious brain might team with the body to literally run itself to death by either destroying skeletal or cardiac muscle, or by starving the nerve tissue of sugar and oxygen."

I feel like I haven't yet shown in a 100 miler that I'm tough enough on my own to overcome my brain, my Central Governor.  So while I'm extremely proud of all of my race finishes, I want to test my own mental toughness, to prove to myself I can push through.  I'm not talking about putting my health at risk, just finding a way to keep moving, keep running when my brain is trying to convince me otherwise.

So with some first-time lottery luck, a few months back I got in to the Angeles Crest 100, solo division.  No crew. No pacer.  Just me and my Central Governor, battling it out.  I'm looking forward to the fight.

Embracing The Suck at The Canyons 100K

Pre-Race

Work travel had me on the road Tuesday-Thursday, and my normal three or four days of obsessive packing, unpacking, repacking, all while referencing an extensive spreadsheet was reduced to five minute bursts of activity between work phone calls and emails on Friday.  I had hoped to be on the road by 2:00 or so, but it was 3:30 by the time I finally had the gear put together and the Xterra packed and set up for sleeping and hit the road.

Dirtbagging at the Start/Finish

I pulled in to Foresthill School about 7:00 and got set up in the parking lot in the back.  Tents were being pitched in the field, others were dirtbagging in their cars like I was, and a few lucky ones had RVs or Vanagons.  I checked in and picked up my bib, and then set up my backpacking stove to heat up the rice and salmon I had managed to put together that morning, and cracked open a can of Pinot Noir – nothing but the finest!  I wandered around a bit, talked to a few other runners, all while trying to relax but definitely feeling nervous energy.  

Dinner of Champions.  Or Back-of-the-Packers

I ran into Tim Tollefson, who I had met briefly a few months back at SF Running Company’s premier of Billy Yang’s movie Mt. Blanc.  Dude couldn’t have been nicer and we chatted for a good twenty minutes about our goals for the next day (he was running the 50K, which he won), our plans for the rest of the year, his experiences racing in Europe, and sleeping in our cars.  I headed back to the car, put the Western States movie This is Your Day on the iPad and sipped on some wine trying to wind down.  I finally settled in to the sleeping bag around 10:00 and set the alarm for 3:45, hoping to get a decent bit of sleep for a change.

Of course I woke up at about 1:45 AM, keeping intact my record of never getting any real sleep the night before a big race.  I dozed off and on a bit before finally getting up at about 4:00 as the parking lot started to fill with runners that hadn’t gotten in the night before.  I got dressed and headed up to race HQ for some coffee and to drop off the drop bags that would be waiting for me here at mile 31 and down at the river at mile 48.  Nervous energy filled the room as runners milled about, chatting and staying warm. I got a big hug from and talked for a minute with Erika Lindland, who then headed out a few minutes early to line up in front, where she would remain throughout the race. 

It's Go Time!

Lets Do this - First 50K

With the achilles injury I’d been dealing with through the winter, my training hasn’t been what I’d hoped for the race that was to be my 2017 Western States Lottery qualifier.  I got in what I could, spent a lot of time hiking, running downhills, and actually had a decent April that gave me confidence that while this was going to be a long day I should be able to get it done under the twenty hour cutoff.  With over 14,000' of gain and loss over 63 miles, I knew there wasn't a whole lot of flat in this race.  

Other than running along the river, it's pretty much all up and down

I almost always start at the back and ease into a long race, but I took that even farther than usual for this one.  At 5:00 AM the race started, and I did what I’ve been doing in training and walked for an entire mile to make sure to get the calves and achilles nice and warmed up (no point doing a pre-race warmup for a 63 mile race!).  This fit in with my overall strategy for the race – take it really easy for the first 50K, hope to have enough life in my legs and quads to run much of the mostly downhill 15 mile section to the river, and then hike well back up the 15 miles to Foresthill.

Ready to Start

Within about two minutes I was one of the last three people in the race.  Running with the mayor, as they say (like how the mayor brings up the rear of a parade sitting in the convertible).  But I was ok with that – at least I kept reminding myself that I needed to be.  A mile in we hit the downhill section of Bath Rd, and I settled into a comfortable pace as we cruised down that and then onto the trail that would take us on our first two mile climb, and then down into Volcano Canyon.  The conga line had started to spread out a bit, but then we came to a complete stop as people lined up to use a rope to tiptoe across some rocks in Volcano Creek. Once I had an opening I went around the line and plowed through the creek in knee deep water– the forecast called for rain most of the morning so my feet were getting wet one way or another!

Tip-toeing across Volcano Creek

We climbed up to Michigan Bluff and it was great to be in the spot where I’ve spent many hours waiting for runners at Western States, and where my pacing duties began in 2012 the first time I crewed/paced here.  I had put together a pace chart with 16 hour, 18 hour, and 20 hour splits and I was right in front of the 16 hour split, exactly where I hoped to be at just 10K into this thing.  After a quick pit stop on the side of the trail, it was onto the section of the course I had never experienced before as we dropped down into El Dorado Canyon.  The rain started to pick up here, and there were a few sections of trail that were starting to get pretty sloppy with mud, made more so by the fact that about 250 other runners had already torn it up.  I remember thinking that it was really going to be a mess on the way back, little did I know what was ahead….

The climb up to The Pump aid station was long, 2500’ over about 4 ½ miles, and I just kept comfortably power hiking and moving up the field a bit.  Somewhere in this section the leaders started heading back toward Foresthill, including Erika in 2nd place yelling “SEAN GROVE” and high fiving me as she cruised on by.  That gave me a big smile, and after a few more sloppy sections and continued off-and-on rain I hit that aid station at mile 13.5 in about 3:20, still right on that 16 hour split pace.  Western States Board President John Trent was working the aid station, and he took my pack to refill the bladder with Tailwind, asked how I was feeling, and sent me off towards Devil’s Thumb

.

Schranz playing Taps. Photo credit Chloe Romero

We ran by Ultrarunner Podcast’s Eric Schranz and his Alpenhorn, and then dropped down Devil’s Thumb toward the Swinging Bridge.  The rain had picked up and we were hitting the steepest part of the course, and that proved to be a tough combination. The mud was so slick and thick that we were sliding down the trail, grabbing at roots and branches trying to stay under control.  At the same time the front of the pack is trying to make their way back up, and it became a tricky balance of trying not to lose control and mow people down like bowling pins.  I did all I could to keep one of my favorite mantras in mind, “Embrace the Suck.”  After maybe a half a mile or so the trail firmed up a bit, but there were a couple of other sections like that on the way down.  We finally made it down to the Swinging Bridge, I paused for a quick picture, and then it was scrambling back up the Thumb through the mud and rain, at 24 and 25 minute/mile pace up the two mile, 1500’ sloppy climb.  Every step up in some sections my foot would slide half way back down, and it was murder on the hip flexors.  So much energy used.  It was a big relief to finally get back to The Pump AS and get restocked by John again (“you look great!” he lyingly exclaimed to me).  I was now behind the 16 hour pace, as expected after the climb up, but still feeling good about where I was and how I was moving.  My fueling with Tailwind and gels (200-250 calories an hour) and hydration were good, and I was taking an S-cap every 60-90 minutes even in the cool temperatures.  

Pictures just don't do justice to the amount of mud out there!

Back down the five mile descent to El Dorado Creek, and as expected it was getting sloppier and sloppier through here as well.  I was getting close to 16-hour pace again as I hit the AS there but that slipped away as I began the 2,000’ climb back up to Michigan Bluff, commenting to a runner near me that I now understood the death stare I’ve seen from many runners as they stumble into what is the 55-mile mark of Western States.  A few more miles through Volcano Canyon and up Bath Rd, and I was back to the start area and the half way point of Foresthill in 9:07, just about right on the 18-hour pace.

I sat down for the first time and was brought my drop bag, and realized that in my haste to pack I’d put half of the stuff I had meant for my mile 48 drop bag in this one.  That meant grabbing another headlamp, swapping out the rain shell, and stuffing a new long sleeve base layer onto my pack in case it got cold with night fall. I was pissed at myself for screwing something up so basic, but tried to stay positive.  I took off my shoes and socks and my feet had the wrinkled, white look of having been encased in wet socks for 9 hours, so it was good to dry them off, re-lube, and get dry socks on.  I found that one of my new socks had worn out in the back near the heel, another screw up of not checking all my gear beforehand!  I had some KT tape in the bag, so stuck that to my foot, got the shoes back on and headed out down Foresthill Rd. to begin the 15 mile, mostly downhill Cal St. trail to the river.

Another 50K to go

My quads were sore but still working, but my old friend the right IT band had started to act up the last few miles and I knew this next section of trail would really test it.  As we dropped down onto Cal St., that familiar stabbing pain in the outside of the knee had me yelping out loud, and I begin to just repeat “please hold up, please hold up, please hold up”, knowing 15 miles of downhill would test the hell out of it.  But my energy remained great, my stomach was solid, and I knew I just had to keep moving at a steady pace and I was going to get this thing done.  To my surprise, the IT band didn’t get worse, and really only caused issues during steep sections of descent.  Down, down to the Cal 1 AS (and another “SEAN GROVE!” and hi five as Erika ran by up the hill), up a few short but challenging climbs to Cal 2, and then down the 7 mile descent and run along the river to the AS at mile 48.  I sat down again, re-lubed my feet and changed socks, and headed back out along the river and then back up out of the canyon.  I had passed a handful of runners during this section and anybody who had passed me I had caught again, so I was feeling really good about how I was moving.  I was now 50 miles into a race and still able to shuffle along, and even if they were 14-ish minute miles I was still running much of it!  My Fenix 3 with the supposed 20-hour battery life died at the 15 hour mark during this 7-mile stretch, leaving me running a little blind.  But after hours of doing the math in my head, I knew I had built up plenty of cushion against the 20-hour cutoff so I was in good shape.

Climbing back out of the American River Canyon on Cal St.

Nightfall hit during this section, and I shuffled along all by myself for a good hour or two.  There was a woman not too far behind me that kept letting out a “Whoop! Whoop!” every few minutes, and I later heard her telling someone she thought something was following her through the tops of the trees!  I started to let out a “Hey bear!” every once in a while, knowing that bears and cougars (not the good kind) are pretty common out here.  I finally made it back up to Cal 2, and didn’t really realize how much energy that climb and running alone for so long had taken out of me.  But Ann Trason did!  Yes, the 11-time winner of Western States and the greatest ultrarunner of all time was now working that aid station, and greeted me as I came in with “whoa, you look like you need some Coke!”  I had put off eating or drinking anything but Tailwind, gels, and a few cups of broth until that point, saving the sugary, caffeine-y goodness of Coke for nightfall.  And it was so good. She got me a second cup, some broth, and two sections of quesadilla.  We chatted for a few minutes about her coaching clients that were out there, how well Erika was doing (she ended up taking second!), and then she walked me out of the aid station and sent me on my way.  So cool.

I was now re-energized, and after another 30-45 minutes of shuffling along (I’m still running!), I finally caught up to a group of 5-6 runners.  I moved up to the front of them, and another guy and I pulled away while everyone else hiked.  We ran along for several miles, hiking up the hills and shuffling the short flat sections, until he finally stopped and bent over, grabbing his knees.  I shined my headlamp up ahead and saw a really steep section, said goodbye to him, and kept on going. With my Garmin dead I really didn’t know how far I had left or what time it was, but I knew it was only a few more miles.  I finally started seeing lights of the houses of Foresthill, and heard music from a house party somewhere.  “Let’s go, finish this thing!” I kept telling myself.  Finally, it was up onto the paved road of town, and damn that road was way shorter on the way out than on the way back up.  Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, I’m gonna run this thing in. 

And run it in I did, crossing the line at 18:04:29.  181st out of 221 finishers and probably 260-270 starters.

Post-race thoughts

I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of a race, especially in terms of executing my plan.   I know I left some time on the course with my conservative start, but it was what made sense to do given my goal and my training.  I’ve run better and finished much higher at some 50Ks, but every race 50M and up (and this was my 6th) I’ve had serious issues that left me wondering what could have been and absolutely miserable at times.  IT bands, stomach, blisters, puking, light headedness, all sorts of things.  And yes, my IT did act up again, but it didn’t get worse and it didn’t keep me from running.  My stomach was solid.  My energy was good for most of the race.  My feet held up, only one tiny blister which I didn’t even notice until the next day.  I had some low spots, but I was able to problem solve and get myself out of them.  The second half of the race I moved up 17 spots and was only passed by one runner that entire time.  I’ve never moved that well (yes, relatively) for that long.  And I ran a negative split of 9:07:45/8:56:44!  Unlike other races where I’ve been a wreck at the end, I was eating tacos and drinking beer within 15 minutes of finishing.  No doubt the cool temperatures played a part in all of that, but it was the closest I’ve come to “nailing” a long race.  And for the fourth year in a row, my name will be in the Western States Lottery come December!

Huge thanks to RDs Chaz, Chris, and Pete, and to all of the amazing volunteers out there on what was at times a pretty miserable day.  What a great event on some amazing and historic trails.

Work With What You Have

It's been almost six months since I last wrote a blog post with my Firetrails 50M race report.  That's not because I haven't run any races at all.  In fact I did run another about six weeks after Firetrails, the Give n' Gobble 10K on Thanksgiving while visiting my parents in Oregon for Thanksgiving.  I had recovered pretty well and had plans to work on some "speed" (it's all relative for my slow ass) for 8-10 weeks before getting back to ultra-specific training, and I figured running a 10K as hard as I could would give me a good baseline from which to put together some interval and tempo workouts.  I had no idea how to pace this thing, so before road tripping north I did twenty minutes of "comfortably hard" running on a relatively flat road, and managed a couple of miles in the 8:50s.  So slow!  But at least now I knew where to start on race day.  I ran a mile and half to warm up, and then took off at the start right in that range, 8:53 for the first mile.  I felt pretty good so picked it up a bit, and then ran as hard as I could for the final mile (7:50 split!) and finished in 52:11, satisfied with the hard effort. A mile cool down and then back to my parent's house to begin Turkey Day festivities.


But later that day my calves were so trashed that I could barely walk, and that continued for a few more days.  I guess pushing the pace on pavement for 6 miles after only having done so for two miles in one training run wasn't such a great idea after all.  I took two days off and tried to run on the third day, and my right achilles was super sore.  I ran no more than every-other-day through December, never uphill (only hiking) and no further than eight miles at a time, as the achilles continued to bother me.  I was doing eccentric heel drop exercises, light stretching, and working the calves with a stick and my Roll Recovery R8, but progress was so frustratingly slow.  February and early March  training continued to struggle, with weeks of 27, 6, 14, 19, and 11 miles, but the achilles was slowly improving each week.  I did decide to bail on Way Too Cool 50K, missing it for the first time in four years, as I had no business trying to struggle through that for 6-7 (or more) hours.

With The Canyons 100K looming in just nine weeks I knew if I was going to have any chance to get it done as my 2017 Western States qualifier that I was going to have to get focused.  In terms of training and fitness, I was way behind where I was at this time last year heading into Quicksilver 100K around the same time.  The good news is that the Canyons qualifying time is 20 hours, so I have four more hours to work with than the 16 hour qualifying cutoff from Quicksilver last year.  With around 14,000' of gain (and loss) over 63 miles, it also doesn't look to have many (any?) flat sections:

The Canyons 100K Elevation Profile

I've run Michigan Bluff to the river while pacing Western States, and the part I haven't done is from Michigan down and up through El Dorado Canyon and then down Devil's Thumb and back up (miles 6.5 - 25 of the race) - so I know there isn't a ton of flat trail.  The good news is that I'm a better hiker than I am a runner normally, and with my training such as it's been that's unfortunately more true right now than ever.

Nine weeks, with a need to hit three specific areas - time on feet, power hiking, and toughening the quads to handle the downhills.  So I put together a plan that I hope will get me there.

Other than the down week being a little lighter than planned (just wasn't feeling great, and the point of a down week is to recover and absorb the training) I've been able to stick to it pretty well so far.  This week and next will be the peak weeks with 9-10 hours each before heading into a two week taper, with one final hard downhill workout scheduled for 10-11 days out from race day.

I'm trying to do some little things as well to get me ready - increased rolling/massage, some strength work, working almost exclusively at my standing desk, and I even got my bike fixed up and have ridden it twice for the first time in years.  And with the possibility of a warm day out there (avg of 71 but high of 92) I started sauna sessions today.

Will it be enough?  I guess I'll find out on May 7th, but I'm gaining confidence that I can get it done even if it becomes a long slow slog until after midnight to get that States qualifier.  But with the achilles injury and compressed training cycle, I'm just forced to work with what I have as I keep chasing this Western States dream.

Dick Collins Firetrails 50 Miler

I’ve had a hard time this summer and fall trying to decide what to do next, what to commit to.  My initial plan earlier in the summer was to run Mountain Lakes 100M up in Oregon in late September, but it turned out the date didn’t work out.  My running has been as consistent as it’s ever been including six 20 milers and a 50K, and several weeks with 5K-10K of climbing, continuing even without a race on the calendar.  What has been lacking without that focus race has been my diet and nutrition, so I knew I wasn’t in peak shape.  But I still wanted to get in one big effort before the year was up, or I kind of felt like I would be “wasting” the endurance I’ve been building all summer.  So on the last day of registration and six days before the race, I finally pulled the trigger and registered for the Firetrails 50M.

This race was my second 50 miler back in 2013 so I knew it has five good climbs but nothing too steep, and being in the East Bay in early October that heat would be a factor.  It’s an out and back and the biggest climb is coming back out of the turnaround – a 4 mile, 1,250’ slog up mostly exposed fireroad in the heat of the day.  Heat, climbing, exposure, dust – sounds awesome, right?  And it was all exactly what I was looking for.  With my ultimate focus being Western States, opportunities to continue to experiment and gain experience with heat management, long climbs, nutrition, aid station management, etc., were really what pushed me to sign up.  My time in 2013 was 10:55 so I set a stretch goal of 10:00 (that I knew was unlikely with my lack of focus this summer), a backup goal of PRing the course, and as always with an ultra, the ultimate goal of just finishing still upright.  I put together my pace chart with the 9:59 and 10:55 Aid Station splits, assembled drop bags for the turnaround and the finish, and had the gear all ready to go.

Trying not to overpack

Race morning I drove out to Lake Chabot Marina about an hour away while sipping on a coffee and a slurry of UCAN Superstarch and chia seeds, picked up my bib, took care of pre-race bathroom business, and waited for the 6:30 AM start.  It was still a little dark as we gathered near the start, but the first couple of miles are on bike path so I didn’t bother with a light and just settled into an easy pace.  Things felt pretty easy as we hit the first 500’ climb, and I chatted with a few other runners as the sun came up.  It was really muggy, actually foggy and in the mid-60s, so from the start I worked on keeping up on hydration.  I was wearing my Ultimate Direction AK Race Vest with one bottle of sports drink (Tailwind to start, refilling with GU Brew on the course) and the other with water so that I could use it to help keep cool.  My nutrition plan was to aim for about 200-250 calories an hour, and to keep it limited to sports nutrition products for as long as I could to see if that helped prevent the late race stomach issues I’ve had in the past.  This race has 13 aid stations so I figured on one GU gel at each one, take 2-3 more during the few spots on the course where it would take more than an hour to get from one aid to the next, and to just keep drinking sports drink out of the one bottle throughout the day.

Runners in the mist

Things really went according to plan for the first half.  I was moving comfortably at a pace right between the two splits on my pace chart, so I knew that the sub-10 goal wasn’t going to happen.  But that didn’t really bother me as I stayed focused on trying to manage effort, manage heat, manage nutrition, and move efficiently up the trail.  As we made the climb up to the high point of the course in miles 19-22, the leaders in the marathon that started at our turnaround started streaming by.  It’s always inspiring to see those guys and gals at the front of the pack fly up and down the trails.  Up and over the top and down the fireroad to the turnaround was a steady stream of encouragement both ways, and the leaders of the 50M coming back up the hill, running something that most of us would be power hiking.  I’ll never know the fitness it takes to do that.

Singletrack heading up to Steam Trains

I got to the turnaround at Loan Oak at about mile 26 at just under 5:23, a few minutes ahead of my pace from 2013 and feeling good, with my IT bands and quads holding up great down that 1,250’ downhill.  The Aid Station here is a fun Western-theme with a ton of great energy.  Even though it can be hard to appreciate the themes when I’m trying to get in and out quickly, this race has great aid stations and volunteers throughout.  I am always sure to thank everyone, as they put in a ton of time and effort to support the runners.  I haven’t yet done this, but I will be volunteering at a couple races next year to experience that side of things and give back to this sport that I love so much.  I didn’t have crew for this race, but a volunteer brought me my drop bag and I got to work cleaning and re-lubing my feet with Run Goo prior to changing socks.  Pouring water on myself all day to this point had me dealing with wet feet all day, but the Run Goo did a good job of keeping my feet in decent shape.  I refilled the bottles, put ice in my bandana, in my hat, and in my rolled-down arm sleeves, downed a gel, and began the long climb back up to Steam Trains.

Still feeling good early on (photo by Facchino Photography)

I passed probably a dozen runners as I just kept grinding it out for an hour, all while trying to stay cool as the temps were in the 80s by this point.  I got to the Steam Trains Aid Station just shy of the 50K mark in about 6:32, still ahead of my 2013 splits. I loaded up on more ice, popped another gel, filled the bottles, and down the trail I went still feeling good.  About three miles later I hit one of the steeper climbs of the course, not brutal but a good 450’ in about a mile, and for the first time all day I started to struggle.  I was barely managing a power hike, but my breathing was really hard.  I poured water on my head, water on my arm bands, took some GU Brew, but it kept getting worse.  I bent over and put my hands on my knees, and all the people I had passed on the big climb out of Loan Oak came streaming by, with every single one of them asking if I was ok or needed anything (did I mention I love this sport?).  “Yeah, I’m good, just struggling, thanks”.  By the time I reached the top I was lightheaded, and was even experiencing almost a tunnel vision where things in the periphery were a little fuzzy.  I popped an S-Cap thinking it might be electrolyte related, kept pouring water on myself, and kept sipping calories.  But even going downhill I was struggling now, with an almost 16-minute mile split there.  My head started to come back a little as I focused on just making it to the 37-mile aid station at Skyline Gate, where I would either regroup and figure this out or I would have to drop.   To make matters worse I caught my toe and went down, tumbling through the dirt.  I got up and checked to see if I had any injuries and not seeing any blood kept moving.  I finally stumbled into Skyline almost exactly on my 2013 split of about 8:21.

I cooled myself with the ice/sponge bucket, wiping down my face.  I grabbed some Coke and another S-cap, and just sat down for a bit trying to regain composure.  I knew a course PR was now out the window, but after about 10-15 minutes of just sitting there and getting some sugar and salt back in me, my head felt pretty clear so I decided to continue.  I figured if the light-headedness came back, I could either turn around or just drop at the next aid station 4 ½ mostly downhill miles away.  So I got back on the trail and headed down the hill.

Good to be off the ridge lines and back in the shadows of the trees

After my 100 miler last year my buddy Jim put together a race video that captured well the experience and the struggle I had out there.  The song he picked for the second half of the video, covering mile 50 to the finish, was Surrender by Angels and Airwaves.  I had never heard it before, but it’s obviously become one of great meaning to me (just watch from about the 4:50 mark).  Sure enough, 30 seconds after I left the aid station my iPod shuffles a five hour playlist and lands on that song.  “No I, I will not surrender.”  You can’t make this stuff up, and I instantly teared up - followed by laughing out loud and smiling for the first time in a couple of hours.   I knew then that it was going to be a slow time, but I was finishing this thing.

The rest of the race was really pretty uneventful, it was just a matter of moving forward for another three or so hours and getting it done.  I was moving slowly but I was moving, and I was able to keep hydrating, eating, and slowly hiking the ups and slowly running the flats and downs.  The last couple of miles of rolling bike path on pavement kind of suck, and as I was for probably a good third of the race I was completely by myself for most of it.  I actually passed two runners for the first time in hours in the final mile, and tried to run it in strong and crossed the finish in 11:38:45.

Relieved to be finished (photo by Facchino Photography)

I laid down after I crossed the finish and gathered myself for a few minutes.  I got up and took off my shoes (just one small blister), cleaned my feet, changed out of my wet shirt, and kept sipping water and walking around.  My stomach wasn’t ready to partake in a burger or beer yet, so I had some broth that seemed to go down ok.  I gathered my stuff and started to walk toward the car, and all of a sudden the light headed feeling came back and I immediately laid down on the ground.  A volunteer came over to check on me and then brought over a medical volunteer who talked to me for a bit.  As I sat up, out of nowhere I started puking, first the soup I had just put down but then completely emptying my stomach.  Medical brought me some Sprite and a couple of S-caps, and stayed with me for a good twenty minutes to make sure I was ok.  After another ten minutes or so I felt good enough to stand up, and slowly walked the 15 minutes back to my car for the drive home.

So while the race didn’t go as planned, I had seven great hours out there before having to gut out the rest.  My best guess on the problems I had are around electrolytes – I was cramping pretty severely all over when I got home, and I kept taking S-caps for a few hours (along with some pickle juice) until that finally stopped.  I didn’t really take any early in the race, relying upon the GU Brew to get what I thought would be enough.  As a salty sweater, the research by Tim Noakes would seem to indicate that I have plenty of electrolytes on board and don’t need to supplement, but I just don’t think that works for me on a warm day – next time I’ll be doing one per hour from the start and up that to two in the heat of the day.  I also think that as my diet hasn’t been on point the past few months with too many carbs, my fat burning has been suppressed a bit.  This leads to the 200 calories or so I was taking in being probably a little low, so blood sugar may have been a factor as well – especially considering Coke (during) and Sprite (after) both seemed to help.  I think getting back into a more metabolically efficient state and ramping my fat burning back up where it was last summer will make the biggest impact there, as when I try to go above 250 calories per hour during the heat I tend to have stomach issues.

Thanks to Julie Fingar and NorCalUltras for another great event, and a special thanks to all the volunteers out there!

Crewing and Spectating at Western States, and the Greatest Finish Ever

Crewing and pacing two college buddies in the 2012 and 2014 editions of the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run has fed my obsession with this epic event, making it number one on the race bucket list.  While I'm hoping the third time is the charm this December in getting in via the lottery, I wanted to head up and be a part of the 2015 edition of the race in any way I could.  I'm all out of fraternity brothers that run 100 milers and didn't have any luck with my Bay Area network of finding a runner to help, so I was planning on either just spectating or trying to volunteer.  But about two weeks prior I threw up a post on the event Facebook page, and within an hour had a response from a UK runner that was coming to Squaw by himself, happy to have some help.  So there I was at the track in Auburn on the last Friday in June picking up my runner and heading up the mountain to Squaw.

But let's first jump to the end of the race.  From 10:00 AM - 11:00 AM and the thirty hour cutoff on Sunday has been called "The Golden Hour" and "The Greatest Hour in Ultrarunning".  And this year more than lived up to the billing.  I sat by the entrance to the Placer High School track for the last 90 minutes or so, watching the runners that had been out there through two sunrises and a full night enter the track with their pacers, crew, and families.  I found myself getting teary eyed more than once as people celebrated this amazing accomplishment on their run around two-thirds of the track to the finish.  As time wound down, legend Tim Twietmeyer came over to where a few of us were anxiously awaiting any final runners, and said that there were two runners still on the course that had a chance, with the second being 70-year old Gunhild Swanson.  Just before 10:58 AM a runner named John Corey hit the track with all of us exhorting "Go, go, go!"  About 30 seconds after him in came Gunhild, accompanied by winner Rob Krar who had gone up to Robie Point in his flip-flops to help run her in.  Those assembled were now screaming, "You gotta go, you gotta go!  Go!" Several of us ran across the infield to the finish to see John cross with 30 seconds to spare, and then Gunhild hit the finish line at 10:59:54 - SIX SECONDS TO SPARE!  The crowd exploded, strangers hugging, people crying and cheering.  Western States released a great video of it, and I captured it from my spot as well:

A moment that no one there will ever forget, to be sure.

And now back to the start for a quick recap of the prior 30+ hours......

Saturday morning saw 371 brave souls take off on the 100.2 mile journey.  I took off to Robinson Flat to meet my runner, arriving a few hours before he was scheduled to arrive to spectate and watch the race unfold.  I missed the top 10 or so men but saw the women's leaders and then about two-thirds of the field come through waiting for my runner, who struggled early with the heat and arrived just 45 minutes ahead of the cutoff.  We got him in and out of there fairly quickly, and I headed back down to Foresthill to watch the front of the race.

Foresthill is what I imagine the big European trail races to be like - people lined along both sides of the road cheering runners along, drinking beers, and ringing cowbells.  I ran into some fellow Pine-to-Palm 100 alums and posted up in a shady spot near them, and was able to see both the men's and women's leaders come through with leads they would hold all the way to Auburn.

Rob Krar on his way to Cal St. and keeping his M1 bib for 2016

After several hours at Foresthill it was off to Michigan Bluff to meet up with my runner again.  From the online tracking I could see that he was losing time to the cutoffs, so after resting for a bit in my mobile crew station, I headed down into the aid station.

Trying to stay off my feet

Michigan Bluff is another big Aid Station, and a key point as runners struggle up out of the canyon on a pretty rough climb.  As time ticked toward the cutoffs, crews and pacers anxiously awaited seeing their runners come down the fire road.

Awaiting runners at Michigan Bluff Aid Station

My runner finally came in at 9:30 PM, just 15 minutes ahead of the cutoff, and left with just 3 minutes to spare.  We decided I would start pacing him at Foresthill instead of Rucky Chucky, and I told him he had to pick things up a bit if he was going to make it.  I drove back to town and changed, filled my hydration pack, and tried to rest a bit before pacing 38 miles to the finish.  Unfortunately, as the 11:45 PM cutoff neared and with no runner in site, I knew I was all dressed up with nowhere to run.  I headed out toward Bath Road to meet him, and brought him in to the aid station about 13 minutes late, his race over at 62 miles.

The silver lining was that I was able to get back to the finish line in Auburn to catch several runners coming in sub-24.  Most notable for me was my friend Erika Lindland moving up from her 11th place finish two years ago to finishing 9th this year!  So excited for her, what a smart race she ran moving up the field and making up around 50 minutes on the women ahead of her from Foresthill to the finish.    I then took a nap in the car for a bit before heading back to the track to watch runners trickle in, all the way until that incredible final two minutes.