2009 Western States 100-miler

Training: The Summer/Fall/Winter of My Discontent

In March I began to do enough mileage to (1) start losing weight, and (2) hit the trails in Auburn. This felt indescribably good. By the end of March I had built up to doing my favorite 44-mile training run, which is basically the toughest 44 miles of the Rio del Lago course. Furthermore, I did it in record time (although by just a few minutes, and in much cooler weather than previously). I took the first weekend of April "off" to work at AR50, and hit the canyons the next weekend. It was downright cold and overcast that day, and I did the six-canyon run in 10 hours, compared to my previous best of just under 11 in hotter conditions. The Diablo 50-miler the next weekend was to be a big milestone, but I got the flu that week. I did feel good enough by Saturday to give it a shot, but I was so nervous I couldn't sleep. I got literally about 30 minutes of sleep that night.

At Diablo, just about everyone had passed me by mile 6. For the first time in my career, I was DFL on the trail. I kept going (and actually passed a few people later on), but by mile 24.5 I quit. I got there about 15 minutes ahead of the cutoff, but I needed at least that long to rehydrate, and I was just mentally and physically done for. That week, for the second consecutive week I totally rested midweek, and by Saturday night I felt ridiculously well rested and ready for a run. Sunday, I tried to do my 44-mile course, but cut it short due to fatigue and did only 36-37, which I figured was a good enough comeback. I felt ok when I got in the car to drive back home, but 45 minutes later when I stepped out of the car I knew something was wrong. Without realizing it, I had slowly cranked up the car's heater to ridiculous levels to stay comfortable, so when I stepped out into 70-degree air, I was FREEZING! I had a fever, and it lasted for 3 days, until after I saw a doctor and the antibiotics kicked in. Needless to say, I rested all week, weekend, and the next week. Finally, I did a 22-mile trail run on May 10, and guess what? I felt the strep throat coming back again the next day. Another round of antibiotics, another week and weekend of resting, and soon I was facing the decision of whether I was even strong enough to do the first day of Memorial Day weekend training runs! Motivated by a couple of good 12-milers on Wednesday May 20, I decided to give it a go on Saturday May 23, and it went well.

By "went well", I mean that I was able to do the 32 miles from Robinson Flat to Foresthill without dying. That's a far cry from being on track for a 100-miler five weeks later. Furthermore, I had a lot of traveling coming up. For example, I wouldn't be able to train at all the next weekend, as my flight to Australia took the whole weekend. So I took off from work on Wednesday (May 27) and did some more canyons. I wimped out and did only 4 canyons, not 6, but I felt that was reasonable as I was still stiff from the training run 4 days earlier. In Australia I had a terrible run on Tuesday June 2, cut short at not much more than 4 hours with some injuries flaring up again (I had stopped stretching while I was sick!). I had a better run on Saturday June 6, but it was still only 5.5 hours long (raining most of the time---no heat training for me!) I returned from Australia on Monday June 8, and had to leave for Aspen on Sunday June 14. I reluctantly took Saturday June 13 away from my family to hit the canyons one more time. The weather was freakishly cool, I did the six canyons in 10.5 hours, and I felt good. In Aspen I had two good long runs. The last one was only a week before Western States, but I really felt like I needed the training more than I needed to taper. As it turned out, my legs felt tired as late as the day before Western States, but it was not an issue on the day of the event.

The Big Day

The High Country

Cougar Rock, about mile 12. (click for full size)

At Duncan Canyon (mile 23.8), I had to ask for a paper towel to pocket, as I had run out of toilet paper. Luckily I never had to use it. The problems were starting to go away. I don't recall exactly when the cramps stopped, but by the time I hit the steep part of the Robinson climb, I was cursing the climb rather than any cramps. I got into Robinson (mile 29.7) at 12:55, about half an hour later than the official 30-hour pace. I had only 45 minutes before the absolute cutoff, but I wisely decided to take as much time as I needed to rehydrate, and then try to make up time on the subsequent downhills. I spend a good 20 minutes there, talking to the doctor (prescription: extra salt and no more chocolate milk), changing socks, and hydrating. So I left at 1:15pm, only 25 minutes ahead of absolute cutoff. The doctor said a nice thing as he gave me permission to leave: "See you at the finish." I wasn't sure I could believe that, but it was nice to hear anyway.

At the aid station, I sat next to someone who was feeling worse than I was, and a volunteer was tryng to cheer him up, asking him if he had pacer and crew to look forward to. He didn't. I almost said, "I don't have pacer or crew either...we can do it!" but I thought he might not be in a mood for that. He left before me, but a few hundred yards out of the aid station I saw him sitting on a rock thinking seriously about dropping. His name was Ralph, and I was sure he was going to drop.

Somewhere in the high country. (click for full size)

The Canyons

(Note added later: I see now that the online pace chart has slower times for 30-hour runners in the early going, for example 4:25pm for last chance and 12:55 pm at Robinson Flat. Either it's been updated since my run, or the signs at the aid stations were out of date, thus causing me unnecessary worry. Advice: print out and laminate the pace chart and carry it with you!)

On the epic descent to Deadwood Creek, I wasn't my usual downhill self. I maybe was getting tired or stiff, and/or just couldn't focus enough to bomb the downhill. But I didn't let it worry me...the small amount of time I was "losing" that way would probably be returned to me by being fresher later. At the creek, I took the famous swim to cool down, and I think it really helped. I decided to be real conservative going up Devil's Thumb, taking small steps on the steep climbs so as not to suck the life out of my legs. So without really trying, I was up in 47 minutes, not noticeably slower than my training runs! I did lose time during the actual swim, during which about half a dozen runners crossed the bridge, and at the top, when I changed out of my wet socks, shoes, underwear, and shorts, but I still feel it was worth it to cool down and get to the top still in a good mood.

So it was 5:40 when I got to the Thumb (47.8 miles) and 5:55 when I left. That put me 5 minutes behind 30-hour pace (again, according to the signs at the aid station rather than the current online pace chart) and 55 minutes ahead of cutoff, about the same as I had been at Last Chance. Given that I had burned time swimming and changing everything, that seemed reasonable. I walked a bit with Tom Gallagher, whom I recognized as an experienced runner, and asked if he had any doubts about finishing, given that we were still behind 30-hour pace. He said no, just keep moving and there'll be enough time to finish. At that point, we hit the downhill and so I took off ahead of him. I got to El Dorado Creek (52.9 miles) at 7pm and was in and out in a few minutes. This marked the first time that I was even a few minutes ahead of 30-hour pace, which is officially 7:15pm there. I let out a quick whoop and started the ascent. It took exactly an hour, which is exactly how long it takes in training...but in training this climb does not come so many miles into the run! So that was a nice mental boost.

The activity at Michigan Bluff (55.7 miles) was another boost. I rolled in at 8:05 pm and there was actually a crowd: It was the first point since Robinson Flat which was easily accessible to crews and spectators. There were several people I knew, such as Gary Bennett and Jim Barstad, who said I looked good. Seeing these people come out in support of the event rather than to run it was just a good feeling. I also saw Charles Savage, a guy who was so experienced that he had given the trail briefing on Thursday. I was passing him! I got out of there by 8:12pm and I was really running from there to the Volcano Creek crossing. I felt good, I passed many people, and I knew what I wanted to say when I saw Vera at Foresthill: "I'm not even that tired!" I really wanted to get down the Volcano Canyon switchbacks before having to turn on my light, and I just barely did. In the process, I passed Jeffery Johnston, who had been shooting for 24-26 hours. He knew he wasn't going to make that, but he was still in a good mood to finish, and he was moving much better than most of the people I was passing. For me, passing Jeffery was a good feeling because I knew there was no way he would not finish, and so if I just kept ahead of him I would finish too. I no longer cared so much about how far ahead of the cutoff I was.

I slowed down a bit after crossing Volcano Creek and having to turn on my light and climb. I'm not sure what time it was when I got to Bath Road (60.6 miles), but it was probably about 9:25 pm. Leaving there, I met Dawn Bean (recognizable from the documentary film Race for the Soul) who had come down to pace a runner named Barbara. It was dark, I had left just before them, and they passed me at a brisk pace, with Dawn saying "Come on. Walk with purpose." and (to me) "You too. Keep up with us." It was dark, I couldn't see any faces, but I recognized her voice. I didn't seriously try to keep up. Why burn myself out? I had a nice walk up the hill and got into Foresthill (mile 62.0) at 9:44pm. I kissed the kids and Vera handed me a chocolate milkshake from Carl's Jr. Heaven!!!! My digestive problems were 30-40 miles in the past, and it was mighty tasty.

The Endgame

Between there and Cal-2 (70.7 miles), I started to get that feeling that I suppose most runners at night have: where the *^&*! is that aid station? Surely I've gone 5 miles by now?!? In retrospect, it's natural to overestimate your pace when you have no visual landmarks to navigate by, but it was nevertheless just a little worrying. Finally I hit the big downhill that I know comes just before Cal-2, and there I passed Tom Wroblewski and his pacer Jim Barstad. Passing Tom was totally unexpected...he had run about 90 minutes faster than me at Rio del Lago in 2006 and in 2007, so I knew he'd finish Western way ahead of me. But he had been having stomach problems.

I hit Cal-2 at 12:05am and left in just a few minutes. I left just behind Dawn and Barb. Being faster on the downhill, Barb let me pass, but Dawn increased her pace to stay ahead of me. After a minute, as she kept talking, it became clear that she thought I was Barb! I guess that's funnier at mile 71 than it is in the retelling. There was some nice downhill running and I passed several groups of people, but then I hit the climb up to Ford's Bar trail. It's only 400 vertical feet, but it's steep enough that it did something to my right quad. Thereafter, it was painful to run downhill, which was quite discouraging as downhill is usually my forte. After Cal-3 (mile 73.0), there is a fairly flat 5-mile section. This seemed to take a looooong time in the dark, and I didn't run much, to try to rest my right quad.

I stumbled into Rucky Chucky (78.0 miles) at 2:15 am, and got a quick massage of my right quad which, unfortunately, had absolutely no effect. I saw Paul Charteris, another running acquaintance who could easily outrun me, on a massage table in obvious pain. He was in such pain that he looked right through me. I hoped that he would recover, but apparently he never did, dropping out at Green Gate several hours and just 1.9 miles later. I hit the river crossing by 2:22am. It was deeper than I had expected, up to my waist, and quite cold, but really added to the adventure aspect. Once out, I completely changed shoes/socks/shorts/underwear again, and this time I had a nice new pair of shoes for the final 22 miles. On my way out, I saw Tom sitting down and changing his shoes...apparently I had not been putting much time on people since Cal-2!

Emerging from the American River at 2:30am, mile 78. (click for full size)

The 1.8 mile walk up to Green Gate was pleasant. I was in clean dry clothes, and there was a pleasant breeze. After Green Gate, there is a decent downhill, but my quad was unfortunately not letting me run it. At least I could keep up with all the other downhill slowpokes and not get passed! The 5.4 miles to Auburn Lake Trails (mile 85.2) seemed to take forever. It's reasonably flat, and in training runs in 2008 I had marveled how easy that section was and what a gift it would be at that point in the event. Instead, I caught up to, but did not feel like passing, a runner (and pacer) who was basically walking with occasional short "bursts" of "running" (more like shuffling).

I was calculating that in the worst case, I was doing 20-minute miles, so that the 5.4 miles from Green Gate to Auburn Lake Trails (mile 85.2) would take 1 hour 48 minutes and get me to ALT by 5:10am. But I really thought that was a worst case. But as 5am approached, I could see that I was actually right on that pace. That was disappointing...if I continued at that pace, I would finish with 45 minutes to spare, but that gave me little room to deal with any problems that might arise, such as blisters or worse pain in my right quad. So I resolved to pick up the pace from ALT to Brown's Bar (mile 89.9). If I could do those 4.7 miles at 15 minute pace, it would take 70 minutes and get me there at 6:20 am. Amazingly, that's exactly what I did. Just before Brown's Bar, I passed Rena Schumann, former top 10 female finisher. What was I doing passing her?

Brown's Bar was playing the song "What a Difference a Day Makes" and indeed that's true. It has been said that runners show up in Squaw Valley in the best shape of their lives and enter Auburn a day later in the worst shape of their lives. After Brown's Bar is a steep downhill, the kind where I usually pass people like they are standing still. I did pass a few people, but very slowly and gingerly. Then they passed me back on the climb up to Hwy 49 (mile 93.5, 7:29am), as did Rena. But I'm used to people passing me on climbs. Although I averaged just a hair under 20-minute miles on that segment, I hadn't lost any net places.

Hwy 49 is where it started to get hot again. I picked up a hat from my bag and left my light (I almost could have left it at ALT, but I wasn't sure at the time). I drank a chocolate milk and suddenly my stomach didn't feel so good. I started up the remainder of the climb very slowly. There is about half a mile of climb, half a mile of flat, and then 2.3 miles of nicely runnable downhill to No Hands Bridge. Somewhere on the flat part I was passed by none other than Ralph, whom I had left sitting on a rock at Robinson Flat (mile 30) looking miserable and ready to drop. And he had a pacer! Turns out he had picked up a pacer whose runner had dropped. And as we started downhill, he was really cruising! Now, I love that downhill in training, but I was worried that I would be so tired that I wouldn't be able to run it in style. With Ralph in the lead, no worries about that! We were initially in a group with Rena and pacer, and we were passing people, but soon even Rena stepped aside and let us go, saying, "Wow, strong finishers!" We were flying down that hill! When we passed people who were gingerly picking their way down the hill, they were shocked by our speed. This is what I had always dreamed! I didn't care that I would probaby pay for it on the climb up from No Hands, and get passed by everybody that I was now passing...at least I was having fun after 95 miles! Ralph even started to drop his pacer, and it was all I could do to hang on to his pacer. As the descent flattened out in the final 0.3 miles before No-Hands, I just let them go and took it easy.

I don't remember the time at No Hands, but it was probably something like 8:20am. No Hands is about an hour from the finish, but I had told Vera to expect me at the finish between 10 and 11 am. So I had time to kill. Or at least I used this as an excuse to take it really easy on the climb up. Even though I took it easy, I found that I was breathing really hard even walking slowly on a moderate uphill. I wondered why that was, and whether it signified something more serious than fatigue. In any case, I continued to take it easy all the way up past Robie Point. A lot of people did pass me, but I didn't care. I wanted to have enough energy to enjoy myself at the finish, and I could feel that I was on that edge where pushing myself more would have put me in a bad mood. Or maybe this was all an excuse to be lazy. I walked all the way to the white bridge, which includes quite a few blocks of basically flat street. After the white bridge, it's all downhill and I ran that.

I entered the stadium worried that Vera and the kids weren't there yet. I was so busy looking for them that I didn't take time to enjoy my victory lap. I was kind of sad that I would be crossing the line without them. But there they were, right at the finish line! The kids came out and met me while I was about 10 meters out, I kissed and hugged them and then we went in together. The announcer told the entire stadium how I couldn't have done it without the support of my wife and family. That was the perfect way to end it!

My 3-year-old son and 7-year-old daughter paced me in to the finish.

Statistics

Lessons Learned and Advice for First-Time WS Runners

Second, I think the official 30-hour splits are way too fast in the early going. I left Robinson Flat 50 minutes behind "30-hour pace" and arrived at Rucky Chucky 2 hours 15 minutes ahead of it! (And then supposedly lost 45 minutes by Hwy 49, and then maintained the 90-minute margin to the finish.) Part of the reason must be that I'm a good downhiller, and this part of the course is a net 6000 foot downhill, but I don't think that's all of it (and certainly other runners less good at downhill share this view). If you find yourself way behind 30-hour pace at Robinson, don't panic. In fact, rather than rush out of Robinson because you feel the cutoff breathing down your neck, it's better to fully hydrate/change socks/whatever so that you can run comfortably when you leave.

Third, the heat is not that bad for slower runners. It had been a freakishly cool May and June, so no local runner had any serious heat training, and especially not me, who had been in the Australian winter and the cool clouds of Aspen. The high was 105 in Auburn, yet I found the canyons not terribly hot...perhaps because I got there a bit late (Devil's Thumb at 5:40pm), and/or because the back country stayed much cooler than Auburn (Accuweather says it never got above 84 at Foresthill; the prediction had been 96). The bottom line is the heat may not be as bad as you think based on the forecast and on what you may have seen and heard of the frontrunners.

Fourth, and this is also trite, take care of yourself. I have no regrets about any of the time I "wasted" on things like swimming in Deadwood Creek, changing shoes/socks/underwear/shorts at Devil's Thumb and again at Rucky Chucky far side, etc. Possibly I could have run a few minutes faster by not doing those things, but it's also possible that skipping those things could have put me on a downward spiral. Certainly for your first one, obsess more about taking care of yourself than about your time. And try to enjoy the day rather than obsess about your time or about finishing. It's an experience you shouldn't miss.