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.

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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.

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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.

I Am Ready

As I've written about before, the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run became a bit of an obsession for me back in 2012.  To someday be at that start line in Squaw the last weekend in June, the white bib pinned to my shorts, staring up at the climb up to the Escarpment while awaiting the shotgun blast signalling the start.

Three straight years of qualifying and attending the December lottery ended in disappointment, but it gave me the opportunity to run more races, and to learn more about myself and this sport.  I knew my time would come eventually, and I drove up to Placer High this past December hoping this might be the year.  And then Tim Twietmeyer called my name:

Since the Cascade Crest 100 in August, my running had been a little sporadic.  I was still getting out and enjoying time on the trails, but without any real focus.  After the lottery I had a trip to Oregon planned in late December, and a work trip to Vegas in early January, so I just focused on trying to get a little more consistent for that six week period with a plan to begin training in earnest in mid-January.

The break had also given me some time to re-evaluate my running and training.  If I'm honest, while I've learned more about how to run ultras, I haven't really improved my fitness much the past few years.  Looking back, that shouldn't be much of a surprise as I've lacked year-round consistency, and have pretty much just gone out and run easy most of the time.  I'd been reading Jason Koop's Training Essentials for Ultrarunning, and even had the chance to chat with him a bit up at the Ouray aid station during Hardrock last year.  So I decided to adopt his principles which are essentially:

1. Train the least specific aspects farthest away, most specific closest to event
2. You must incorporate all three key intensities during a training block - SteadyState, Tempo, Intervals
3. Work strengths closes to race, and weaknesses further away

This was a departure for me, but led to planning out a three-week block of vo2 max-focused intervals (2 x per week) in January-February, a short Endurance phase to ramp up my long run for Way Too Cool, a Tempo phase that went up to The Canyons 100K, and then the final several weeks leading into States were to be Endurance/SteadyState focused

Way Too Cool played out like I had hoped, I'd almost describe it as uneventful", which is exactly what I was looking for.  I ended up at 6:08:21, 14 minutes off my PR from 2015. But considering the muddy conditions and an extra .3-.4 of a mile (including a climb) on the course due to a washed out section of trail, I was really pleased with the result.  The purpose was to get in a long, supported training run, practice my nutrition (gel every 30 minutes plus 1 bottle/hour electrolyte drink), and come out uninjured.  So I considered the day a success.

Training went pretty well after Way Too Cool, and I ramped up to The Canyons 100K feeling pretty good.  If you haven't run that race, I'd highly recommend it.  I've run it the past two years, camping out in the back of the car behind Foresthill School, the race just has a cool vibe and provides the chance to cover 30+ miles of the Western States course.

Dirtbagging in the Duckmobile

This year brought the added bonus of Eric from Ultrarunnerpodcast and his lawn darts camping out beside me, and we threw those weapons back and forth across the lawn while sipping beers and telling stories for a couple of hours - a great way to relax before a big race.  And it is a big race, with over 15,000' of elevation gain over 63 miles.

Other than some blown quads on Cal St. thanks to taking the descent into Volcano Canyon a little quicker than I should have, the race went well for me and I came in at 16:40:53, over an hour and 20 minutes faster than the prior year.  A solid, long effort in my build up.

I recovered well, especially considering I had thought about dropping to the 50K going into the week to be sure I could keep training going.  After a single down week, I put in four straight weeks of 10-12 hours and decent (5800'-8800') vertical.  I did develop some pain in the back of my knee during the first 34-mile day of the Memorial Day training runs, so I took Sunday off but was able to run the 22 miles on Monday with no real issues. 

Robinson Flat looking a little different than I've seen it on race day

The pain in the back of the knee crept up anytime I went over 90 minutes, so after one more 20 miler I tapered a little more aggressively than I had planned.  I also got treatment from Dr. Chappy Wood, asking him to throw everything at it - electrostim, Graston, lasers, even cupping.  Along with 7-8 sauna sessions and a couple of runs in 90 degree heat while bundled up head to toe, I've done everything I can to be ready for this thing.  

110 degrees in the car

This has been the most consistent, focused training block I've put in since I started running ultras in 2013, the year after I first experienced Western States as a crew member and pacer.  I've dropped 20 pounds since January, rolled out my troublesome calves and IT bands daily, and put in 119 miles on the actual course.  As I stand here writing, hitting F5 on the Auburn weather forecast page every few hours (100 degrees on Saturday!), 2 days and 10 hours from the starting gun, I of course have doubts.  I'm scared.  I'm nervous. I'm excited!  But most importantly, I just keep forcing my mind back to the same mantra - I Am Ready.

#seeyouinsquaw

2016 Western States - Crewing and Pacing (again)

0-3.  While the lottery odds have conspired against gaining entry for myself the past three years, Western States can't keep me away and last Friday I drove up to Squaw to crew and pace for the fourth time in the past five years.  This was to be the third time I'd be pacing my buddy Matt Searfus (Surf) in a 100 miler (once prior at States, once at Rio del Lago), who's lottery luck is much better than mine at 2-3!  After running a 23:01 at RdL last fall and a good block of training, he came into States uninjured and ready to push for that 24-hour finish and a Silver Buckle.

We all met up for lunch and discussed the crew and pacing plan for the following day.  Jim Hammond would be running from Foresthill (mile 62)  to the river (78), as I'd done in 2014 I'd take Surf across the river and up to Hwy 49 (93.5), and then his wife Becky would run him in to the finish.  Surf and Becky had their kids in tow, so I volunteered to accompany Becky and the kids to the aid stations at Robinson Flat (32) and Michigan Bluff (55).  Jim, his wife Jennifer, and two rookies to crewing ultras Jared and Ryan would hit the other side of the canyon and crew at Duncan Canyon (23.8) and Dusty Corners (38), and then we'd all meet up again at Foresthill (62). 

Elevation profile and Aid Stations

We relaxed that night in a condo outside Tahoe City, eating pizza and drinking a beer or two to relax before we all hit the sack early.  That 3:30 AM alarm would kick off a very, very long day for not only our runner, but for all of the crew as well.

Q:  Friday night crew meeting or fraternity reunion?  A:  BOTH!

We got to the start at Squaw around 4:30 AM, and Jen and I hiked up the hill a bit to watch Surf and the rest of the field begin the 4 miles climb to the Escarpment.  So much excitement and nervous energy.

Gordy trying to put our boy back together

Unfortunately Surf's race didn't unfold as he'd hoped.  When we first saw him at Robinson Flat (mile 32), his stomach had been giving him issues and he'd only taken in a single gel in the prior couple of hours, so he was falling behind the 24-hour pace.  That issue would stay with him until he got out of the high country and to a lower altitude, and he started feeling better.  But then coming into Michigan Bluff (mile 55) he developed pain in the back of his knee.  I walked him in to the aid station and suggested he get it looked at and worked on by the chiropractic and medical volunteers there.  So onto Gordy Ainsleigh's chiropractic table he went!  Gordy had started the race but pulled the plug within a couple of miles and walked back down to the start, so he spent the rest of the day volunteering at aid stations.  They worked on him a bit, taped him up,and sent him on his way but he was struggling. 

He picked it up a bit and was feeling better coming into Foresthill, and he and Jim headed off down the Cal St. section of trail. 

Looking good coming through Foresthill Aid Station, mile 62

I drove off to the Drivers Flat parking area where'd I'd be catching the shuttle down to Rucky Chucky later that night to begin my pacing duties, and tried to get a little sleep in the back of the car.

#dirtbagging in my mobile crew station, where I got about 2 total hours of sleep over 42 hours 

At 11:30 I headed down in the shuttle to Rucky Chucky, and the rest of the crew joined up a little later. At about 1:15 AM Surf came in, and after he refilled the bottles and fueled up we put on the life jackets and waded into the river to continue the journey on toward Auburn.  

Stairs down to the river crossing, with the lights of Rucky Chucky far visible on the other side

The fifteen or so miles that we ran together were pretty uneventful.  We talked some, ran and hiked in silence some.  He had long since given up on the 24 hour goal, but was also in no danger of missing cutoffs so he just kept moving, albeit slowly.  At one point he expressed frustration in his faulty knee as the section of trail was so runnable, but he just wasn't able to get it in gear.  As we hit the fire road before the climb up to Highway 49 I moved from running behind him to up in front and slowly picked up the pace a bit, and he hung on and did the same.  After almost five hours we came into the aid station and we sent him off with Becky toward the finish.  

We headed out to Placer High to await his arrival with his two boys in tow.  Surf rolled onto the track at just over the twenty-seven hour mark, and I sent the boys out to join him over the final 300 meters to the finish line.  Great moment for him and his family!  So proud to witness him gutting it out and just getting it done on a day that didn't go how he'd hoped it would.  Huge props to him, he is one tough and inspiring dude.

It is so rewarding to have had the opportunity to share in this experience with him again, and I know he hopes to be able to repay the favor someday!

Great moment for the Searfus family!  Photo Credit Jennifer Hammond

Outside of Surf's race were 353 other stories.  Just a few of them:

*  What a story it was that played out with Walmsley all day. There were a few guys running with him early (Sage Canaday primarily), but he took the lead about 10 miles in and just hammered it, putting time on the rest of the field and the course record.  I kept hearing words like "unprecedented" and "incredible" and "awe inspiring" as people that were at the aid stations when he came through tried to describe what they saw.  IRunFar said, "His effort seemed inhuman–truly asking all of us observing at aid stations to plausibly reset the definitions of what is possible." Look at his splits on Strava up through mile 90 - there's a whole lot of sub-7:00s and sub-8:00s in there.  He even dropped his pacer on the way down to the river about mile 71 - a professional runner could only keep up with him for 7-8 miles on the Cal St. trail, while he already had 62+ miles in his legs.  But then at about mile 92 instead of heading up a hill to the HWY 49 aid station he missed a turn, and ran along the river and came out about two miles down 49 from the aid station. He obviously felt a little defeated at that point, seeing the race of a (anyone's!) lifetime slip away.  He pretty much walked back, retracing his steps, walked up to the aid station and sat for 15-20 minutes before continuing on, and he ended up finishing in 20th place overall. 

*  The other piece of the Walmsley story was his river crossing.  For those that aren't familiar, at Mile 78 you hit the Rucky Chucky aid station at the American River.  There is a dam upstream, and every morning they let out a bunch of water so that there is enough flow for the rafters that frequent this area.  So the water is fairly high and fast in the morning, and gradually drops throughout the day.  You wade through with the help of a cable with volunteers helping to guide you across - it's been a little over waist high at it's deepest point all three times I've crossed as a pacer.  It's pretty common for the lead runners to jump in for a minute and submerge themselves to try and cool off, as it's still hot and sunny when they get there.  So Walmsley shows up, gets the life jacket put on, and wades in - the volunteers just think he's cooling off.  But then he just starts swimming across and the current sweeps him down stream.  The safety raft takes off after him, but he finally makes it over to the side. 

Here's iRunFar's video of the whole thing (turn down if at work, Bryon drops an F bomb at the beginning).  

Towards the end you can hear people yelling, "don't get in the raft" and "don't help him".  Why would they be yelling that you ask?  Well....

*  In 2006 Brian Morrison was training regularly up in Seattle with Scott Jurek, who had just won the race 7 times in a row.  Scott wasn't going back that year and predicted Brian would win, paced him for much of the way, and sure enough Brian hit the track in Auburn about 15 minutes ahead of second place.  But then this happened.

  .

Because he was helped up and assisted across the finish line, he was disqualified and is officially listed as a DNF at Robie Point at mile 98.9 (last aid station before the finish).  Brian came back the next three years but never completed the race (nutrition, cancellation, injury I believe).  But he was back this year, 10 years later.  He was introduced at the pre-race meeting on Friday along with the elites, and everyone gave him a huge hand.  It was an emotional moment, with him wiping away tears.  We actually saw him several times throughout the race as he was running near Surf most of the day, and they knew each other from the running store in Seattle that Brian manages.  Well Brian finally managed to finish Western States, crossing the line with his kids in 27:26.  Huge hand from the crowd, great moment.

Brian Morrison finally gets that long-awaited finish!

*  As the clock wound down the final minutes during the "Golden Hour of Ultrarunning", the runners that have been out there all day, night, and into another hot day start streaming in.  In the final hour sixty-four of the two hundred eighty total finishers, or 23% of the total, came in and crossed the finish.  Those stories are always the best - Alison Sunshine Chavez, a breast cancer survivor being paced by Chris Jones; Annie Trent, the 26 year old daughter of one of the WS board members; three 60 years olds - and most are joined on the track by not only their pacers but their crew, family, and friends.  There were two 70 year olds that had started - 71 year old Gunhild Swanson, who had the amazing finish last year with 6 seconds to spare, and 72-year old Wally Hesseltine.  This time around Gunhild missed the cutoff at the river (how's this for a picture - Gordy Ainsleigh, Gunhild, and Ann Trason as her day ends at mile 72), but Wally was still coming.  As we got to the final moments a cheer erupted from the road outside the track, and Wally finally came down the ramp.  But unlike Gunhild running a sub-8:00 final mile to sneak in under the wire, Wally was in bad shape, leaning badly to one side and stumbling.  He crashed into a garbage can on the ramp and fell down.  He got up and kept moving, but time ran out after just a few more steps, probably 200 meters from the finish line.  He kept trying to go, leaning and falling again, then again.  Everyone in the crowd is chanting "Wally, Wally", just like they had chanted Brian's name back in 2006.  On the straight away he fell once more, and had to be helped to his feet and across the line.  Totally sad moment, and yet inspiring at the same time.  He was one of three runners that came in after the official cutoff, and while Tropical John announced their names and said they "covered the distance", they don't go down as official finishers but DNFs at Robie Point. 

*  Erika Lindland does it again!  16th at Devil's Thumb, 12th at Foresthill, 11th at HWY 49, and somewhere in the final 6.5 miles she moved into 10th to take the coveted F10 spot.  Two years in a row in the top 10, so deserved.  Congrats to her.  She keeps doing this, she'll have to stop calling it a fluke!

 

There are a a few hundred more stories, but that's enough for here and now since I know not everybody (ok,very few people) are as in to this race as I am.  Every time I get the chance to experience this race, it becomes more a part of me and I become even more determined to run it some day.  I'll be back in Auburn this December for my 4th straight lottery, maybe 2017 will be my year!

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.

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.