Western States 100 Race Report

Well it's been over two months but here it is!

My alarm was set for 330am, I of course was already awake. Jet lag. I was pretty much ready to go so headed into the kitchen to get some breakfast. I saw headlamps fluttering outside and all the people sleeping in trucks and vans were getting up as well. We all went through the normal routine trying to be quiet as a few people were sleeping in, preparing for a long day and night running and crewing.

pre-race breakfast

loading up Alex's van

I think we headed over to Squaw about 4am. I needed to check in yet again. As we drove up into Squaw Valley you could see the row of lights, normally for skiers, illuminating the beginning of the race up to the Escarpment. I lined up to check in, the volunteers were relentlessly awesome! They were helping me get my number on, my shoe tag in place, herding me where I needed to be even before I had a chance to make eye contact! I didn't even have a chance to get confused and wonder what to do or where to go next! 

lights on the course driving up to Squaw

I appreciated the "good lucks" from my parents and friends. Nathan let me know I'd see him along the starting chute crowds because he'd "be the one with the cowbell!" That's Nathan's dry humor talking, since there would be a million cowbells ringing! I milled about awaiting the start. Supposedly a shotgun signifies the start, I never heard it. Oh well, the countdown was enough.

Nathan, Alex, West, and I

start

Slowly jogging up the road I saw Nathan and no one else, I didn't hear the cowbell! It was still dark out and the orange lights obscured my vision. I transitioned from running and walking as the terrain warranted keeping in mind to eat and drink early and number one, take it easy! The sun was soon rising over Lake Tahoe in the distance. I thought nothing of it as I'd seen hundreds of sunrises over "big blue" far more extravagant than this from my days breaking trail pre-dawn in order to ski glorious backcountry powder! Anyway, back to running before I get depressed. We were soon running on snow. No big deal really. I kept to the sun cups for traction and avoided the footprints of others. I wasn't talking much to other people, just wasn't in the mood, but one guy wouldn't shut up. I picked up the pace to get away from him!

runners going up the Escarpment

At the top of the escarpment a group of people had made the hike up early, some camped out to avoid the super early start, long before the runners. I miss people like that. People who rally, people who get after it, willing to put in a little effort for an experience. The guy who runs Ultra Runner Podcast was up there with his goofy-ass alpenhorn. You know, from the Ricola commercial? Those HUGE horns? It was funny. He even was dressed the part in laderhosen! The people surrounding this world are awesome! Keep in mind he had to haul that thing uphill! The snow continued.

me with the eventual women's winner

It had been light out for a while now and people scooted, slid, and glissaded across the snow. I never found it too tough or annoying. I guess old experience never really goes away. I spent many days out as a ranger in Sequoia and Kings Canyon shuffling around in boots on the snow early season. I knew what to look for as far as easiest routes and ways to avoid tree wells and snow bridges which were everywhere. I only saw one guy really fall badly breaking through. He was fortunately ok though. Other than that it was people either giggling or falling in frustration. People in Nike trail shoes appeared to struggle the most.

exposed, snow free ridge running! 

I was running with the top women's elites when the snow started to break up. "Break up" sounds like a good thing but it was just marginally better, or maybe a different frustration. Kind of like strong coffee after a hard night of drinking, a different kind of bad. Now we traversed large swathes of snow and inbetween were temporary creeks surrounded by ankle deep mud! Any creek crossings were running deep and fast but I think we were still high enough in elevation that they were still narrow and easily hopped across. I've become comfortable with wet feet living in the UK and especially after racing Snowdonia 50 in Wales where off and on all day rain and knee deep moorland gave no respite from wet feet. Many people were REALLY frustrated! I found it funny as the Western US trails are pretty dry and if you do get wet you'll usually dry out, over here you're wet, and you're not going to dry out until you're home.

running past "Cougar Rock" I believe

Soon we were at the first aid station, Lyon Ridge 10.3 miles. My pace was dead on as I stepped on the timing mat. The volunteers here had to carry in all their supplies I believe at least a mile over snow! In a normal year they just drive in! The 3000 volunteers were unbelievable throughout the entire race. A quick water fill up, grab some food, on I go. I had been eating ok, better early on than other 100's, but looking back I need to get more of a solid plan in place just like Nathan suggested.

The snow was pretty much gone now if I recall and it was sunny, dry, rocky single track. Really nice running and very scenic. I looked back at the Sierra and tried to name peaks I've skied. Seeing them from the west was all new to me. At some point we passed Cougar Rock and a photographer. I had been keeping my pace and stride in check however every once in a while I'd catch my toe on a fixed rock making me stumble a bit. I usually recover fairly well and avoid crashing into the dirt, I like to think my body weight training routine helps in these situations. However, there's always one I don't pull out of; caught my toe, stumbled, stumbled, boom! Eatin' dirt! My entire right side was covered in Sierra moon dust. Other than a few scrapes, one big "motherfuck!", and the shock, I was alright. I dusted off and kept on truckin'. As my shoes dried out from the snow and mud I noticed some rocks in my shoes scuttling back and forth. I was tempted to stop and do a clean out as these little things become major problems, but figured I'd do it at an aid station.

post fall, just a bit dirty

I don't recall going through Red Star Ridge aid station (15.8 miles) but seeing my splits once again I was right on target with my pace. We ran on beautifully groomed single track in what looked like old growth forest. A few trees over the trail here and there but probably nothing like it was before it was cleared by volunteers. I assessed the cleared trees, looking at the saw dust to see if it was cut with chainsaw or crosscut saw. We do pass through a section of Designated Wilderness at some point where the US Forest Service requires maintenance by non-motorized means; no chainsaws. The trail had quite a bit of smooth, fun descending but I kept my pace easy. I was tempted to go faster but my goal was to get to Foresthill in good shape. I'd never focused on keeping my pace easy at the beginning so it was a bit frustrating being passed on the downhills but I had to stick to the plan.

in the high country

Soon the trail descended steeply on a wider really dusty, rocky trail. I could see a canyon dropping off steeply to my right and could hear people cheering, I must be at Duncan Canyon aid station, mile 24.4. On my way in I saw a guy with a Minnesota shirt on who I spoke with in passing, around a corner and into a giant crowd of people, pop up tents, and cheering. My crew grabbed me and sat me down interrogating me about what I needed and how I was doing. Without knowing I was already filled up with water and my pockets had energy chews stuffed in them. Nathan and Weston were ripping my socks off and putting new ones on. It was odd as I'd rather do this all myself! These guys had crewed before and got right to it! I ditched my hat and put my visor on, my red paisley Buff (a tip of the cap to my old cross country running days) was loaded with ice, and I was off running down single track.

 I cantered on at an easy pace, wondering what the hell just happened, trying to get my focus back, as we traversed along the canyon bank slowly descending. At the bottom a deeper water crossing had a rope across it. The guy in front of me had done a whole body dunking to keep cool, seeing the huge splash I had thought he slipped and fell. The water was running fast and about knee deep, a photographer was on the opposite bank.  From here we starting going up. The trail was fairly exposed despite being surrounded my huge pines and was littered with baby head size rocks making footwork frustrating. It was hot but the heat never really bothered me, I could've been in a low point too. I recalled this section not being much fun. I chatted with a guy from the Midwest for a while who was complaining like crazy about the heat and how he was down on his pace.

water crossing just after Duncan Canyon Aid Station

Thankfully this section was over and into Robinson Flat I strolled, mile 30.3. Nathan had said this aid station is "a huge party." It was an enormous aid station with people everywhere, it must've had easy vehicle access. I wasn't expecting crew here so I filled my water, grabbed some food, refilled ice in my Buff and race vest, and headed out the fire road. The road was smooth dirt and gradually climbed away from the crowds. I was feeling decent and trying to keep food and water intake up. I was into the hottest portion of the course and needed to stay hydrated. Unfortunately I was already unknowingly in the hole.

Aid stations at Miller's Defeat (mile 34.4), Dusty Corners (mile 38), and Last Chance (mile 43.3) all seem a blur as does the conditions and scenery. I was starting to worry about my fluids. I had peed but it was deep brown, in the sun it appeared red. Yeah, red. Or was it brown? I was probably just overly concerned but blood in your urine during an event like this means your kidneys aren't processing waste properly. Not good. I tried to chug water, tried electrolyte drinks, anything, all the time concerned about taking in too much and hoping I'd pee soon. 

I'd been pretty much running alone seeing a person randomly doing the same. The trails varied from single track to fire roads as we came in and out of aid stations. At the bottom of each canyon a bridge and a climb out. I talked for a while with a guy from Montana. This was his second time at WS100. We were hiking up Devil's Thumb, one of the more well known climbs (this may have been Michigan Bluff too). One guy near us was in pretty bad shape, another guy who looked South American was trucking away going up, up, up!  We talked about training with family, other races we'd done, etc; the usual. As we pulled into the Devil's Thumb aid station (mile 47.8) I noticed John Horns from Minnesota on a cot covered in a blanket. He won Superior 100 the year I got 4th. I hope he was alright. 

On I went with one more big climb, Michigan Bluff, but before that a super long descent. I had researched the course a bit but none of that info really stuck. So, I would put two and two together and be like "this must be......" not really knowing what was ahead until I was on it. At some point in here John Horns caught up to me. I introduced myself and mentioned Superior. His reply, as with everyone's who ran that year, "oh, the hot year!" He explained how just before Devil's Thumb he'd forgotten to take his salt tablets, got nauseous and bonky. Popped some salt, had a lie down, and felt better within ten minutes at Devil's Thumb! He was going hyponatremic from too little salt and too much water. The human body is an amazing thing!

The long gradual descent went down from Devil's Thumb into El Dorado Creek aid station at mile 52.9, was pretty much entirely single track if I recall with a wall to the left and a drop off to the right. I was alone. I needed to shit. I was hesitant because I'd assume as soon as I was scrambling for a smooth stone or stick, ideal ass-wiping materials, shorts around my dusty ankles, someone would pop around the corner! I'd guess they wouldn't care but embarrassing none the less. Fortunately no one did when I finally committed to the process. In other "toilet news" I peed again, dark, but it seemed to be getting better which made me slightly more confident.

The descent went on forever and I wanted to open up my pace. Looking back I definitely took the downhills too easy. The key to running this race fast is in these downhills. If you're prepared for them and can confidently run them knowing you won't blow your quads out for the final third one could haul ass! So many of downhill trails were smooth single track, you easily could do 6 minute miles (or faster) on them. I still feel high mileage training is the key to building that durability.

Into El Dorado I rolled, mile 52.9. The weather was beautiful, the volunteers happy and helpful, as was the norm. As I left I recall a bridge and into a climb immediately, unless I'm confusing it with Devil's Thumb (again!). Up I went towards Michigan Bluff. Towards the top I recognized some "celebrity" faces of the ultra world looking for a runner. Then a doctor. Another person in bad shape it sounds from the heat, made me worry about my pee situation but I felt alright. 

strollin' into Michigan Bluff

On this climb I felt as if I was nodding off and needed a nap. People in the past had taken naps and still finished in 24 hours. Maybe considering my poor sleep and jet lag leading up to the race this could be a good strategy for me? Yeah. That's a good idea! A nap! I pushed on soon arriving at Michigan Bluff aid station, mile 55.7. 

We really aren't that different in height! Brendan escorting me into Michigan Bluff

I vaguely remember seeing Brendan who gave me some course info leading up to Foresthill where I'd see my parents, entire crew, and get Nathan on board as a pacer. I turned off of the dirt and onto a more developed road where some guy said a short uphill run until pavement. Yep. He didn't lie. At the top I saw Nathan! Crew was allowed to run into Foresthill aid station for a portion leading up to it. We ran together as Nathan took stock of my condition. I told him about my pee, food and water intake, feet, etc, and of course my plan to have a nap. We ran together for quite a while on the side of the road. There were cars and people everywhere and getting to the actual aid station went on and on. 

Nathan running with me into Foresthill

Foresthill, mile 62. I made it, and in good condition. Goal accomplished. I saw my parents and entire crew. I took a seat as my needs were taken care of without even asking. My plan to nap was ignored. No one even commented. After the race Brendan and Nathan laughingly both said it wasn't even an option! My pace had been good but I was behind and needed to make up time in order to run sub 24 hours. After eating, a change of shoes and socks, making sure I had a headlamp, we were off. Having familiar faces is such a HUGE motivator. I felt great and Nathan and I took off, "let's go catch some people!"

shoe changin' at Foresthill

thanks to my awesome crew!

locked and loaded, Foresthill

We ran seemingly a normal pace down the streets of Foresthill. It was awesome to be running with Nathan. I hadn't seen him in over 7 years and I think back then we actually had gone for a run in Corvallis, something we'd never done before coming from a cycling background at school. Anyway, we zig-zagged through town and soon were back on single track. There were more runners around, most, if not all, had pacers. 

The next few aid stations were a blur: Dardanelles (mile 65.7), Peachstone (mile 70.7), Ford's Bar (mile 73). I was on auto pilot and Nathan was my handler! I ran when he said to run, ate and drank when he told me to. He led and I followed. It wasn't long before we put on our headlamps and it was pitch black out, running in a tunnel of light and sleep deprivation. At one point we had just passed some people and were approaching a switchback. I was startled as a skunk shot across the trail right in front of me! Shit! Pink asshole! "A skunk!" I shouted. We all slammed the brakes on afraid of getting sprayed! Screw it, I thought, kept running and jumped over it and sped off. Nathan and I continued on ahead laughing. 

Nathan could see my sugar levels dropping as my energy came and went. He kept trying to get me to eat more but I was worried about puking, something I'd never done in a race. Well my time came. Shortly after an aid station I was gagging on crackers and an insane amount of puke chucked up! It still blows my mind, the quantity! But, I felt great! It's not like when you've got some illness and feel like crap anyway, it was like hitting reset. My salt levels were probably low so I wasn't dumping fluids: pee. My body was holding it all in. So, we started over. I felt better. I realized how bloated I had felt. We picked up the pace and seemed to be going faster the further we ran.

We could hear an aid station and soon could see lights and activity. It was Rucky Chucky aid station, mile 78. Rucky Chucky is where normally you wade and swim across the American River. I checked in, saw through tunnel vision my crew, fed, refilled, briefly spoke to the aid workers, and rolled on. We walked down to the river bank which was lined with crazy lighting, I could see the water with all the tracers of light bouncing off it. This year with the crazy snow levels the river was too high for a hand line across so they had river guides ferry runners across. They put a PFD on each of us and we hopped in a raft where we were safely brought across. Up the river bank and back on the trail system.

boats n' runners, no hoes!

 hiking up from the boat

Shortly we were at Green Gate, mile 79.8, I don't remember this or the next few stations specifically. Auburn Lake Trails (85.2), Quarry Road (90.7), and Pointed Rocks (94.3). I do remember some events however. Our pace was solid, considering I'd ran 80 miles and don't forget Nathan had ran 20 miles and it was the middle of the night! Nathan had a solid eye on the target, 24 hours. My watch made no sense at all to me, I didn't know where I was, or how far we had left, I just ran and did what I was told. We had been making time up and were cutting it close. We ran hills I'd normally would have walked. I couldn't believe how good I felt. We were running nearly everything! Unheard of this late in the race! At two aid stations I had a doctor, yeah that's right, A DOCTOR, patch up some chafing I had on my thighs. At some point Nathan got hit in the head by a bat which gave us a laugh also! My headlamp went dead but fortunately Nathan had a spare battery. I neglected to shut off the auto adjust on it so it ate batteries like crazy. Note to self: always carry a spare battery, not just a spare light. Finally, I recall the Highway crossing which was manned by police. It reminded me of the train crossing during South Downs Way 100; late night bright flashing lights. 

And I can't leave out the glowing eyes above us. As we ran along my headlamp reflected off two eyes above us. Obviously some animal. They were orange and I thought nothing of it as I was sure cougars reflected green. I mentioned it to Nathan and he brushed it off as "probably a cat," as we were close to houses. The next week a local paper published an article on how a runner was halted by a cougar. I did some "eye research" and I was wrong, Nathan was partially right (it was a cat!), and we indeed were being watched by a mountain lion! The article reported the same location we spotted the eyes! 

post race messaging, remember, Nathan paced for 40 miles at night!

Soon we approached No Hands Bridge aid station at mile 96.8. The bridge spans the American River and is lined with Christmas lights at night. We were close but had to keep moving in order to make 24 hours. We pulled in and Hal Koerner, previous multiple time WS100 winner was the aid station captain. His running store, Rogue Valley Running in Ashland, OR, sponsored the station. Nathan knew Hal from Oregon, I'd met him briefly at the Mt. Ashland Hill Climb Run way back at Nathan's wedding in 2006 I think. We said hi and left. No need to fuel or drink now! I dumped any water out of my bottles as a motivator. The countdown was on. We had to run everything from here on in. Sure it's only 3 miles but after 97 it's not that easy, especially with the final climb up to Robie Point.

No Hands Bridge during the day. I stole this photo from the internet, sorry for no citiation

Up we went. Up we ran. We had no time to spare. I scanned the darkness for any resemblance of an aid station or ridge line hoping to be close. Soon we hit Robie Point, mile 98.9. We didn't stop. I think we had 20 minutes to get in. We did it. We walked the final unexpectedly steep road section through a neighborhood. Another runner was with us and had an entourage. The final mile it's ok to have other crew members and family run with you. We zig-zagged down the streets of Auburn until finally seeing the gate to the track. Nathan must have pulled off here as I ran in, legs feeling great! 

I excitedly ran around the track, under the lights, to finish under 24 hours with about 5 minutes to spare! 

my parents and I

And we were done. I crossed the line, received a hand shake and finishing medal/bottle opener. Then a pile of congrats from my parents and crew. We were all pretty cooked. Time for bed. We piled into vehicles to try to get a little sleep before the sun returned. 

post race breakfast, fuck full-English breakfast, this was REAL eatin'!

After attempting some sleep I took advantage of the free breakfast. I wasn't even hungry but hadn't had pancakes, maple syrup, hash browns (not the lame McDonalds triangle bullshit), sausage, and eggs in seemingly years. I was reminded why so many people in the US are over weight, the food is insanely good! 

final finisher running in just seconds under 30 hours! More exciting than the elites! 

Soon it was the Golden Hour. 29 hours. Anyone who finishes after 30 hours officially does not finish. It's a pretty special time as these people probably have suffered harder than anyone else in the race. 

new belt buckle! 

After cooking in the hot sun all morning it was finally time to get my buckle! Silver, produced in Reno, and my name engraved on the back! Pretty cool. Soon everyone went their separate ways. I still can't comprehend what happened or how to thank all those who made it happen, sure I ran, but I wouldn't have done it without all my friends and family. 

Nathan and I 

I first read about this race when I was in high school cross country. I was probably 17 and an article was published in Outside Magazine. I still have that article I tore out. I never quite knew how to approach a race like this back then. Back then there was no internet, no books, all of the training information was from people who took part in these races of which was a tiny percentage of the running population. It took me over twenty years to get here.

I always dreamed of my daughter finishing the final lap of the track, under the lights, into the finish with me. I guess that being said, it looks like I'll be taking my chances at the lottery yet again, as although I officially finished under 24 hours, it wasn't with her. Personally I have unfinished business with Western States 100. 

See you in Squaw.