Race Report: Rio del Lago 100-miler

Sep. 22-23, 2006

So I let the TRT 100 deadline come and go, but I was still thinking about Rio del Lago in September, where I had run my first 100. It's an "easy" 100, and I could do it by starting my buildup in early-mid July, after the family vacation. I did start building up, but only in case I wanted to do it, not because I was dedicated. I signed up for the 12 Hours at Cool night run on August 11, to try to get some spirit by running with other people, on part of the RdL course. It was nice....for the first nine-mile lap. During the second lap, I started to think...did I really want to run until 7am and then sleep all day Sunday and miss being with the family? As I finished that lap, I suppressed the urge to quit...it would be ridiculous to quit less than four hours into a twelve-hour run! So I did start the third lap, but by the time I finished it, my mind was made up. I had run 27 miles, was still fresh and capable of running many more, but it was about 12:30 am and I wanted to get home to snuggle with my wife before the kids woke up (I had about a 90-minute drive to get there). So that was the shortest ultra I have ever run!

In subsequent training runs, I sometimes lost interest while running and just wanted to get home. At least once, I actually did cut miles off my scheduled workout. This lack of interest had never really happened to me before. I had cut miles off workouts, but only because I had desired to do more than my body could do on that day. Now it was the other way around. In analyzing this, I thought I should just not sign up for the 100-miler because I wasn't that interested. But something happened as the date drew close. I couldn't imagine NOT running it. So I kept deferring the decision. By Labor Day weekend, three weeks before the race, I was supposed to be up to a 44-mile training run, but it was terribly hot and I didn't know if I would even go on a long run at all. Finally, I went to work on Labor Day so that I could go running on Tuesday when the forecast was a bit cooler. I did do the 44 miles, but 45 minutes slower than the previous year. I was clearly not in as good a shape as the previous year, and still weighed more, as I had lost only about half of the 15 pounds I had gained. Furthermore, I was not feeling particularly fresh after those 44 miles. My goal in training was that after 44 miles, I would really feel like I would be able to continue.

So I thought, let me do one more 44-mile training run to see if I can get that feeling. I went the next Tuesday, 11 days before the race. It was hot again and I started to feel bad on the Olmstead loop, the hot and exposed area in miles 30-37 (of my training run and of the race). I actually had enough water because I brought my purifier and drank out of streams. There was no way I could carry enough water for such a hot day. The problem was electrolytes. I had thrown a packet of sports-drink mix in my pocket to add to the water, but it turned out to be fake, just a bunch of vitamin C. No wonder it fit so easily in my pocket, compared to those large Gatorade packets I left in the car! That was at mile 30, where I got water from the Cool fire station. Now, on the Olmstead loop, I was wilting. OK, at least I had some enduralytes with me. Oops, I only had one in a bag where I thought there were several. OK, I decided to have that one precious one when I reached Knickerbocker Creek and had some water again. But when I got there, I was already somewhat disoriented. Somehow I managed to sit on the enduralyte, breaking it open and spilling the salt everywhere. That was the final straw. I decided to quit...IF I could make it out of there back to civilization. I was about 9 miles from my car at Auburn Dam Overlook, but only two miles from Cool. Maybe I could hitch a ride back to Auburn from Cool. I was so stupid for not having brought money with me! I could at least have had something to drink and eat in Cool before trying to get back to Auburn.

So I walked slowly up out of Knickerbocker Canyon, and onto the paved road which the RdL course followed back to Cool. This is a gated road (belonging to the park service?) and I had never seen a vehicle on it. To me, it was just a paved trail. But somehow I got incredibly lucky and saw a park service vehicle coming up behind me. I stuck out my thumb (never having hitched a ride before in my life) and...it zoomed right past me and soon turned off into a side road heading away from Cool. I was so disappointed. I continued walking, not running, to Cool. About 10 minutes later, the same vehicle came up behind me again. I was determined not to make a fool of myself by asking for a ride again, and I kept my head down...for a few seconds. Then I reminded myself that I was in a dangerous situation, having exercised too much in the heat without electrolytes. The driver stopped to let me in to the nicely air-conditioned vehicle, and offered to take me straight to Auburn. Beyond my wildest expectations! He explained that the first time, he ignored me because people asking for rides in the park generally are not serious. He had planned to drive back to Auburn on some dinky little park road, but found a gate locked and had to come back through Cool. Lucky for me!

As we talked, I kept referring to Rio del Lago as "the 100-miler I was thinking of doing, but now will definitely not do." But the next day, I felt better. I wasn't tired at all, which indicated that my body could easy handle 35 miles, if not for the heat and lack of aid stations. So I sent my entry in the day after that.

The next week, I found myself in Tucson for a meeting on Tuesday, and the meeting adjourned a bit early. The same thing had happened two years ago on the Monday before Sierra Nevada, the 53-mile version of Rio del Lago, so the parallels were eerie. Two years ago in that situation, I impulsively did a hilly 19-miler up to Gates Pass and back. It was too close to the event to be doing that sort of thing, but I needed to build confidence coming back from a layoff. Again, the parallels were eerie. (In addition, I wanted to build confidence that I was in better shape than two years ago...not hard, considering the layoff I had had due to the flu). But this time, it was the Tuesday before a hundred-miler! So I resolved to take better care of myself than I had on this run two years ago. I brought money to buy ice-cold drinks at the Circle K on the route (if you don't know how hot Tucson is in September...it's hot). I bought them on the way out, not just on the way back when I would be desperately thirsty. And I turned around about a mile from the top, just to make sure that I would not be tired on Saturday. By that point, my confidence had been built. On the way back, I was feeling so good that I may have even skipped Circle K.

Back in Davis, a big storm blew through midweek, bringing the first rain since April and drastically lowering temperatures. My worries changed completely: now I might be running in wet clothes, which encourages nipple rub, blisters, and hypothermia. The forecast was for rain on Saturday, and I felt nervous. I hate running in the rain, and have never had to deal with it in an ultra. Would I drop out if it simply wasn't fun anymore? Was that a legitimate reason to drop out?

Race Day

The second-biggest climb of the course starts around mile 20, and I noticed that I did the climb easier and faster than I had ever done it in training this year. I didn't know how to compare it to last year, because my memory is not that good. Right at the top, I passed Gordy Ainsleigh, which was a good feeling, and it started raining, which was not such a good feeling. Luckily it was not that far to Auburn Dam Overlook (mile 22.74), where I had extra clothes and rain gear (a plastic garbage bag with holes for neck and arms).

At ADO, I did a sock and shoe change and left around 10:20, which was maybe 10 minutes earlier than last year. I decided not to change my shirt because "it wasn't that wet", but I soon discovered that it was uncomfortably wet, especially now that I was encased in plastic. The light rain stopped just before 11 and I took the plastic bag off and put it in my pocket. I reached No Hands at 11:10 and started the climb up K-2. This climb was definitely easier than it was last year, when it was hot. Now it was completely overcast and I could just walk up as if on a pleasant hike rather than a grueling test of survival. I reached Cool at maybe 12:05 pm and eagerly stripped off my wet shirt. I decided to go shirtless because the wet shirt had started to give me nipple rub. I don't recall what time I hit Cool last year, but it was definitely not as early as 12:05. I kept my garbage bag in my pocket and handed the spare one in my drop bag to another runner who was asking for one. I felt good about being that prepared. Even the aid station people did not have an extra garbage bag for him!

On the Olmstead loop, it soon started raining lightly again and I put my garbage bag back on. After about 4 miles, I caught up to someone and we started talking. It was his 50th birthday and this was his present. I think he had run it before, so I asked him about pacing....conditions were so good that I was starting to think about 24 hours and I wanted to know if it was realistic. He said that he was having to slow down after a too-fast start so it was not realistic for him. I began to think it was possible for me, and soon went ahead of him.

Coming into Cool for the second time, I felt SO much better than last year, when I was stumbling a bit and needed electrolytes. A mile or so after Cool, the Wendell T. Robie trail has a nice long runnable downhill. I'm very good at downhill (at least compared to my average pace) and last year I had been disappointed at how I could not take advantage of it because I was feeling low. This year, I was flying. I passed one or two people. One of them was Ben Muradyan, who finished his first 100-miler here last year at age 18, coming in just about 10 minutes after me. He was running well and I was barely able to pass him despite my downhill strength. He was running with Michael Peoples, whom I could not catch because he was really flying. The whole thing was really exhilarating and a huge contrast from last year. At the bottom (No Hands, about 2:05 pm), Michael waited up for Ben and I went ahead. It stopped raining somewhere around here and I took off my garbage bag for the last time.

I got back to Auburn Dam Overlook at 3pm or a few minutes after and did a complete change of clothes. Ah, dry underwear and shorts! I put on my Brasil shirt, which I would wear for the rest of the race. I left around 3:15, which was about 1:15 earlier than last year. Some of that time savings was consciously spending less time at aid stations. Last year, I had spent a full 20 minutes at Auburn. At the minor aid stations, too, I made it a point to grab a few things and go. The cool weather helped, as I did not have to stay and drink extra cups of fluid. But most of the time savings was really on the run.

Leaving Auburn, it was by no means clear that I could beat 24 hours. I needed to go 2:12 faster than last year, and I had done 1:15 of that, but now we were leaving the part of the day which is normally hot, so that I couldn't count on more massive savings from the weather. I decided that I could save a lot of time if I got through the 6-mile rocky, twisty, turny section from Horseshoe to Twin Rocks in the daylight, instead of after dark as last year. So I pushed to get to Horseshoe, and then pushed on the rocky section. It was just getting dark as I entered Twin Rocks, and I felt pretty smart. I had made up most of the second hour that I needed. At Twin Rocks, there was a trail biker chatting with the aid station people. It was a surprise to him that a 100-mile footrace was going on. He asked me how far I had run and when I said 63 miles, he said I looked very good.

The 4 miles from there to Cavitt was actually very annoying. The trails were quite runnable, but it was now dark and there were no glowsticks out. To stay on course, I had to find ribbons, which was not easy. I actually got off course at some point and bushwhacked my way back onto the course rather than retrace my steps. I arrived at Cavitt at 8:02 pm, a full two hours ahead of last year's pace. I saved another 10 minutes by not staying half an hour as I did last year. This was possible because I was so ahead of schedule that my wife Vera was not there yet, so I didn't sit down and chat and slowly refuel. I did call Vera to tell her to prepare for a 6 am (24 hour) finish, and changed socks, shoes, underwear and shorts again. I got very worried when a gust of wind whipped through and robbed my body of all its heat. I got that terrible feeling that I couldn't control my temperature. I put on a second layer and got moving, but I was worried that my body was in serious trouble.

Afte moving for a few minutes, I realized that Cavitt was in a pocket of really cold air. It was not nearly that cold along the levee roads, so my fear subsided somewhat. But then I followed the wrong chalk arrow and turned off course. I didn't realize it until my trail teed into another trail, and I met with a runner coming from my left. This was totally unexpected, and the runner said something like "what are you DOING?" Then I recognized the trail he was on and saw Cavitt a few hundred yards behind him! I had made a loop back to Cavitt! I turned around and got back on the levee road. The arrow I had followed did not say RdL, and Norm had explicitly warned us that we should NOT follow any arrows not marked RdL. What a stupid mistake! I probably lost a total of only 4 minutes, but I cursed myself. Along with all the time I had wasted fiddling with my iPod coming out of Cavitt, and the temperature-control thing, I felt like my control of the event was slipping away from me. So I resolved not to worry about 24 hours, just to set a decent pace while NOT MAKING ANY MORE MISTAKES.

This strategy worked pretty well. I passed Folsom Dam Park (mile 70.08) and Negro Bar (72.83) aid stations uneventfully. At Negro Bar, the scale said I was up 6 pounds, but I convinced the people there that that was surely wrong. I hit Hazel Bluff (mile 77.33) at about 11:04 pm. This was about 2:05 earlier than last year, so I had neither lost nor gained time on last year since that mistake right after Cavitt. I had a nice chat with the Hazel captain, whom I recognized from last year. I told him that I'd always wanted to know what it was like to finish a 100-miler in less than 24 hours, but now I DIDN'T want to know, because I was pretty sure it would not feel comfortable. He seemed to recognize me and asked me about my "pacer" from last year, who was really another runner I hooked up with for miles 71-97. I said that at mile 97 he told me to go ahead and I finished 14 minutes ahead. The captain then told me a story of running a marathon with someone who told him to go ahead with a mile or so left, and he felt so strong he thought he was sprinting the whole way and putting a huge time gap on his friend. He finished and waited for his friend...who came in 8 seconds later! When I left, the captain said, see you in 3-4 hours.

I began to think, how many hours would it be to run to Mountain Lion Knoll and back? It was about 4 hours last year, but that seemed kind of soft for 12.6 miles. (I compute that now as 19-minute miles, but I don't know if I did that in my head then.) It seemed soft, but I wasn't in a mood to push...until I reached Willow Creek (mile 80.79, 11:58pm) and they told me I was in 11th place (out of 100 starters)! I was shocked and energized. I made it to Mountain Lion (mile 83.63, 12:42 am) in only 38 minutes (about 13:24 miles vs. the 16:30 miles I had been doing from Hazel to Willow). However, Ben and Michael passed me on this leg anyway. They had a pacer and were clearly doing even better than I was. I was now in 13th place, but that was still pretty good.

I *think* I made it back to Willow inbound (mile 86.47) in about the same time, which would put me there about 1:15 am. For comparison with last year, at 1:15 am I was leaving Hazel outbound (mile 77.33). Sometime after Willow, I crossed paths with Gordy going outbound, and I said something standard like "Good job!". What a stupid thing to say to the founder of modern 100-mile trail running! At the same time, being so far ahead of him (8 miles?) was a mental boost. I made it back to Hazel inbound at 2:15 am, for about 3:10 total from Hazel to Hazel. Last year, it took me 4:20, so this was a huge improvement that had nothing to do with heat. I think last year, being my first 100-miler, I was just being conservative and making sure that I kept enough energy to finish.

Between Hazel and Negro bar, I was passed by Mariano somebody, who with his pacer just blew by me (seemingly...he actually finished only about 12 minutes ahead of me). I was now in 14th place. This leg of the trail was just full of slow people on their way to Hazel outbound. That was a definite change from last year! Approaching Negro Bar, I could see Ben, Michael, and their pacer at the aid station...I was catching up! We left the station together, but soon I was power-walking away from them. I was now in 12th place!

The next aid station was Folsom Dam Park (mile 97.18). It was cute that all the aid station helpers but one had fallen asleep, but I didn't stay long to chat. The course then runs through a camping area about 1.5 miles from the finish, and I definitely remember doing that last year in nearly full morning sunlight. Now it was completely dark, and I wondered if the campers in their tents were scared by all the crazy people running through their camp at all hours of the night. I finished at 5:06 am, for a time of 23:06. One person at Cavitt was outside and still awake and clapping for me. It felt good to finish in the dark. A 100-miler in less than 24 hours, made possible by good weather and by not giving up after a disastrous training run. I found out I was actually in 11th place, because someone had dropped out at Hazel inbound. And I was 3rd in my age group! I am convinced that I will never do better than that in terms of place and time. The challenge is now to do tougher courses.