Way Too Cool Race Report           March 5, 2016

Standing at the starting line with my friend Dave with two minutes before the start I wondered first, what was I doing here and second how the day would go. The usual race jitters weren’t there. I didn’t feel the excitement of the other runners like I usually do. I spent five hours in traffic the day before in the pouring rain for a drive that normally takes 2 ½ hours. The forecast for Saturday March 5 called for three inches of rain and 25 mph winds. I was mentally prepared for ‘a fine and pleasant misery’, but I was a little grumpy.

My training had not been going to plan. I should realize it never does. I did get in some long runs with Dave.  Over the past three months I spent more time on my own than I wanted running the trails in the Bay Area. I did enjoy the beauty of those trails. That beauty is what got me into this crazy sport.

I started the race at a comfortable pace, then slowed down. The goal was to listen to my body throughout the day, take care of myself, not push the limits and just get across the finish line. This was set to be my longest run in the past 8 years.

Three years ago I signed up for this race, but had to withdraw. My health wasn’t back to full endurance strength since I contracted Lyme disease in 2008. Completing the California Death Ride last year was a great confidence booster, but a bike doesn’t beat you up like a trail run.

The rain held off as we went through the first eight mile loop. It was wet and muddy on the course though. I got into a few pace lines and just ran comfortably. I had no problems with letting runners pass me. One lady didn’t want to get her shoes wet. She would be running on the wet grass slipping all over the place and I would run down the middle of the trail and pass her. When we got to a non-muddy part of the trail, she would pass me. We kept this up for about two miles. The trick I learned in college on the backroads of Montana is the place where the water was running down the trail was the least muddy and most stable path. The water washed the muck away.

After a stop and the porta potty at mile eight I started running downhill for three miles to the American River. I had been on this portion of the trail twice before during the Western States 100 runs in 2004 and 2006. Being a big guy, it hurts to run downhill slow. You have to literally balance fast downhill running with downhill face planting. I got in my downhill form, which is a slight drop in center of gravity and slight forward lead, and let myself freewheel down the technical single track. This section felt great. I could feel my heart rate going up, but took advantage of gravity.

When we crossed the road and started running along the river, a guy came up to me and complimented me on my downhill running. He said he was pushing the pace and had a hard time keeping up with me. He went on to say that I was running slower on the flat gravel road than I was on the technical downhill.

The reason I was running slow, was to recover from pushing the downhill. I got into mile 11 aid station, refilled my water, grabbed some PB&J sandwiches and ginger people soft chew candy and continued up the river. This section felt slow. I was getting light headed and my stomach felt strange. It was like it was detached. It is hard to describe.

We climbed from mile 15 to mile 18 up out of the river canyon the edge about 900 feet. After wading through three or four creeks and lots of mud, the trail flattened out and I found my stride.

Between miles eleven and 17 I was wondering if I was going to have to drop and walk back to the start. My friend Asaf teases me by telling those we run with that it takes me ten miles to warm up. He is probably right. By mile 17 I had locked in an upright running position that let me run uphill, on the flat and downhill, all with the same energy. I kept that form for the rest of the race.

Running down a steep muddy track where three of four runners were falling down, I ran into the fourth aid station call ALT. Here is where I made a mistake. I drank a few cups of coke and had some potatoes and salt and took off. All in all I never spent more than two minutes in any aid station.

I was now on the old course of Way Too Cool. I ran this course five times between 2002 and 2008. Sometime in the last eight years they changed it for the better.  I spent a fair amount of time by myself during this portion of the run. Occasionally I would pass a runner, occasionally one would pass me.  About ten minutes out ALT I took a drink of water and got nothing from my camelback bladder. I forgot to fill up with water at that even aid station. I had another hour and half of running before I got to the next water stop. I asked one runner behind me if he had any extra water, and he said no. It is a good thing it was raining hard. I took my chance with giardia by stopping by a fast flowing stream and half filling my water.

At mile 25 there is a one mile hill, named Goat Hill. It is a steep climb up to the next aid station. I kept my form and thought of my coaches instructions from 12 years ago. Keep the stride up at 180 steps per minute, keep the steps small on the uphill, and just keep tap, tap, tapping away. I was at the top of the hill before I knew it. I told the man filling my water (I remembered this time) that the next 3 ½ miles were the toughest part of the race for me. He smiled and said, the next three miles are always the hardest part of the race.  

Concentrating on my form, I just kept going. Tap. Tap. Tap. I started passing people. I was sore of course, but not in pain. When we crossed the Highway 49 for the last time, there was only 1.4 miles to the finish. Steady on I went. Not feeling spent, but feeling energetic. I didn’t kick to the end, but just kept moving.

When I crossed the finish, I was ecstatic. I fist pumped the air and let out a woohoo. I finished feeling strong. I still had the endurance capability. I put the nail in the coffin of that dreaded Lyme disease. Yeah, there are a lot of ‘I’s in that paragraph, but at the finish it is your own moment.

And the weather? It was overcast all day and rained for maybe a total of an hour during the whole day. I was running in short sleeves. Once we got off the course, the wind picked up and the skies opened up. It rained hard for the 2 ½ hours it took me to get home.

Now I am looking to figure out what is the next adventure. 

Death Ride 2015 - Tour of the California Alps (Cycling)

You know that for the past few month I’ve been posting my bike riding pictures of on FB. They were all training for the Tour of the California Alps, better known as the Death Ride.  The daunting goal was to ride 129 miles and climb 16,400 feet (5000 meters) over five mountain passes in a single day.

This is the biggest thing I've attempted since 2008. At the start of the ride I didn't know if I would be able to finish. I’ve done endurance events before, but never a bike ride of this magnitude. Here is how the day went.

Dave and Joe hanging out with the ride mascot

The group of us staying at a great home three miles off the course agreed to wake up at 4:00 and start riding around 4:30. We started in the dark, ten miles from the first checkpoint. Even though we started out together, we knew we would soon be spread across the course. Given my size, my friends are all stronger climbers than me. When we hit the first uphill, I watched as they slowly pulled away. However, when we descended our first drop into Markleville, by the laws of physics, I caught up with them.

The climb on the front side of the first Pass, Monitor, was enjoyable. Watching the sky turn from dark to light and then seeing the mountains was wonderful. I let out a whoop when the sun crested the mountain when I was near the top. It felt good to be back in this beauty.

When I reached the top, I stopped to collect my first sticker. Each rider is given a sticker for each of the five peaks. I haven’t collected stickers since I was in fifth grade. I felt like a kid again, but I would have to earn all five stickers. If I got all five stickers, I could order a five pass finisher jersey and be one of the cool kids.

I didn’t stop at the aid station on the top of Monitor Pass. I rolled on through and then started flying down the backside of the Pass almost to Nevada. I averaged 35 mph on those skinny big tires with a max speed of 45 mph. As I flew down the hill I enjoyed the ride, but kept thinking I have to climb back up this grade as soon as I reach the bottom.  I refueled at the aid station and started the return trip, where I averaged 5 mph climbing. It took me about two hours the climb the 3100 feet back up the second pass where it only took me less than 16 minutes to go down.

Climbing the back side of Monitor Pass. A few of the 2600 riders.

Down I went back to the bottom of Monitor Pass. What took me 1:30 to climb took me 13 minutes to descend. So went the day. Climbing the third Pass, Ebbetts, wasn’t too bad. There were a couple of steep sections where I had to stop and rest, but hey, I did the same during my ultra-marathons.

The day in the mountains was spectacular. I admit, I concentrated on the asphalt and didn't see as much of the beauty as I would when running. I realized during this ride that I talk myself out of missing the mountains living near the coast, but when I get back in them, I feel like I am home.

I rolled down the back side of Ebbetts Pass to Hermit Valley Aid Station. I spent a bit of time there refueling, better known as eating and drinking. I pulled out the map for the first time to see where I was relative to the cutoffs. It was 12:30, I’d been riding for eight hours, finished three passes and 67 miles. I had two more passes and 62 more miles to go. The cutoff for Ebbetts was 2:00.  Based on my climbing ‘speed’ I knew I would have to push it.

I got on my bike and rode as hard as I could, which was pretty darn slow, up the backside of Ebbetts. Based on my calculation and climbing rate, I expected to reach the top by 2:10. I was very disappointed I would be timed-out. That is, I would miss a cut off time and be done for the day. Up until this point, I didn’t know if I had the conditioning and the desire to finish. Oh well, I guess that means I’ll have to train harder and come back next year. 

The top came sooner than expected. I arrived at 1:45. I immediately realized that, yes I really wanted to finish.  I had read the cutoff wrong. The traffic was being stopped at the top of the Pass on the first climb going down into Hermit’s Valley and I was on the second climb out of the Valley, I was two hours ahead of the cutoff. .

The next cutoff was at 4:00 twenty five miles away. Fortunately, it was mostly downhill. I was motivated to make it. I pulled out my endurance experience, put my head down, and rode hard. By not stopping for lunch or any of the rest stops, I made it to Woodfords AS, mile 92, at about 3:05. At times I was pushing downhill riding 45 mph.

I did make sure I kept my caloric intake and stayed hydrated. My ultra routine is to consume 300 calories per hour. Any more I get sick. Any less, I get behind and bonk in the last quarter of the event. I'll start the day with fruit and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Mid day, I'll switch over to gels so I don't have to digest as much. If the day is going well, I'll splurge on oreo cookies or some other sugar bomb items they have at the aid station. To stay hydrated, I drink 16 oz of water per hour minimum. If it is hot, I'll double that. I take salt stick tables to get the electrolytes I need throughout the day. If the event is longer than six hours, like the Death Ride, I'll take a calcium/magnesium pill midway through to keep my head in the game.  I had enough food and water with me to make it to Woodfords

The next challenge was to make it to the final cutoff by 5:15. It was six miles and 1500 feet of climbing. My friend Dave said he hated that section. There was a steep area and the headwinds coming down the canyon slowed me down even more. I put my head down, tucked in behind some riders, and slogged it up to Pickets Junction, mile 103. Again my calculations were off. I thought the full ride was 7 percent grade, which meant slow climbing, but it was only 7 percent for about a mile in the middle. Once I pulled into this final AS, I smiled. I knew I would collect all five stickers.

Climbing the last nine miles to Kit Carson Pass was brutal. I had very little left in my legs. My lungs felt fine, but the legs burned. But I made it. Now, I don’t need to go back next year and prove I can do it.

I celebrated at the top by enjoying the ice cream at the Aid Station. I was pretty emotional. It felt so great to be back doing endurance events. This proves my Lyme disease is abated. I have been feeling good for a couple of years, but this removed any doubt.

The road at the top of the pass was being repaved. There was 2.8 miles of cut asphalt, which made the riding tough going into the Carson AS and on the way back. Most of us went slow. The traffic was going slow due to the curvy roads and big construction trucks. A car full of teenagers pulled up alongside of me and one stuck his head out the window and started yelling at me. ‘This sucks. What the #$@!# are you all doing up here? Why don’t you get off the road? You are making us wait. Get a mountain bike.’ Then he flipped me off. I laughed and shrugged. I told him that he would get where he was going eventually. I then rode ahead of the car on the right of the road. A few miles later, the road became normal and smooth. I started pedaling faster and the car came around me with the teen hanging out the window flipping me off and shouting obscenities. Ah, to be young and ignorant. I smiled and waved.

On the way down from Carson’s back to our rental I tucked in behind a tandem bike. Those bikes can fly. I clocked 50.4 mph during the descent between Pickets and Woodford Junctions. It was a nice way to end the day.

I certainly didn’t do this alone. My good friends Tim, Chris and Dave plus my new friend Len, were inspirational in helping me train, teaching me the etiquette or riding in group, and a showed patience by waiting for me at the top of most climbs. Tim convinced me to ride the Sierra to the Sea Tour for the week in June. Chris taught us the lesson of slowing down and waiting for the camera person. He had to ride hard to catch us. Then he set a furious pace of 22 mph on the flats, that we kept up for about 40 minutes on day 3 of the Sierra Tour. It’s great to have friends like these. Thank you!

Mont Blanc Ultra Trail 100 Mile Run - August 2006

Pictures can be seen at http://picasaweb.google.com/wildexplore

The travel website advertised a tour which would visit three countries in two days. The tour would start and end in the European Alps at Chamonix, France, crossing into Italy, Switzerland and then back into France. The tour would circle 100 miles around the Mont Blanc Massif (mountain range), visit nine villages, go over ten mountain passes, and ascend and descend 57,000 feet elevation. The $120 cost included all the food I could eat, places to sleep along the way if I was interested, and even free massages. The only catch was I had to supply my own transportation and it had to be by foot! REI Adventure Travels offers a two week hut-to-hut trip on the same trail for well conditioned backpackers. Participants this the Ultra Trail Run have only 45 hours to cover the same distance. Two years after reading the website, I was at the starting line of this ultra run, finally ready to begin my adventure of The North Face Ultra Trail Tour du Mont Blanc.

Forty minutes before the start of the race I was sitting on the ground 15 meters from the start, surrounded by the other 2500 runners, hoping the swelling in my ankle wasn’t too bad. The two week taper leading up to this moment had been phenomenal. My wife Lisa and I had been having a blast traveling through Germany, Austria, the Czech Republic, Italy and France. During my final training runs I had run up the side of a cliff on a 5000 year old trail in Hallstatt , Austria; run through the cobble stone streets in the medieval Czech town of Cesky Krumlov; run for miles along the Danube River in Vienna; and run up-river in the Northern Italian town of Bassano del Grappa. The taper was not all about running – for instance, the day before we headed to Chamonix to get dirty trail running, I got cultured by attending the Verona Opera in a 2000 year old Roman arena. I was blown away by the perfect acoustics with no microphones for the singers and the silence of the 25,000 normally animated Italians.

Contrary to the enjoyable taper time, the day of the run was troubling. The North Face, as the run is called in Europe, starts at 7 PM on Friday night with a cutoff time of 45 hours. We had until 4 PM Sunday to complete the tour. On Friday morning I woke up with an extremely sore hip. Visions of my struggle to finish the Western States 100 two months earlier played in my head. I gently and repeatedly stretched until the problem went away. Around 2 PM Lisa and I walked with our new friends from the UK, David and Angela Brown, to the free pre-race pasta feed. I hadn’t been feeling that well and while eating plain pasta I felt really sick. We returned to the hotel where after a two hour nap I felt much better. We met David and Angela again and walked our drop bags, containing dry clothes and energy gels that would be waiting for us at mile 45 and 70, over to the sports center. When David and I were leaving the sports center, I was focused on finding Lisa and Angela in the crowd and stepped into a hole in the grass near a sprinkler head, badly twisting my ankle. I silently swore. With the run starting in less than an hour I put the best face on this troubling situation. I told Lisa that I hoped I had gotten all the run related negative effects out of the way before the start. During the run I realized that I was not to be quite that lucky.

Counting down the start of the run was like counting down New Years Eve; 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… and we were off!! It felt great to be running through the streets in the crush of excited runners and hearing the huge crowds of spectators who were ringing cowbells, shouting and clapping. I said to myself: “I am actually running Mont Blanc!” It was strange to kick around Europe for two weeks and then get back into my comfort zone of trail running.

I felt comfortable running in the crowd, though I did have to watch out for a few errant trekking poles. We ran down the river for about 4 miles, crossed the road and started our first of many climbs. Climbing up the slope of a ski hill with the chair lift overhead was similar to the start of Western. Not bad, I thought to myself. Just run comfortably until you hit the big climbs at mile 20.

I heard someone behind me ask ‘How’s it going?’ I knew it was someone who knew me because they were speaking English. Terri Schneider, who lives 40 miles from me in Santa Cruz, California came up along side me and we chatted. I had introduced myself to Terri the day before at the check-in. Terri was one of 20 Americans signed up for the run. Meeting her was one of the several ‘small world’ things that happened during my run. Despite the small percentage of Americans I knew or randomly met most of the Americans who started the race.

At the top of the climb at Col de Voza (9:07 pm Friday /8 miles /2,900’ cumulative elev. gain) the first fully stocked aid station was so crowded I could not see the tables. I did manage to grab a banana and fill my water. I was surprised to see the table stacked with 2 liter Evian bottled water and Avre sparkling water. I later found out that every aid station had bottled water. I stayed away from the bubbly water in order to keep my stomach in check. This was the first place that I was ‘wanded’. A chip with my runner number was embedded in the bib. When we came into a control point a volunteer would wave a wand in front of me and 15 minutes later my time at that location would show as a text message on my crew’s cell phone.

At the Col I heard people say there was a 5 kilometer downhill section after the aid station. We had climbed 2200 feet and now we were going to give it back. I took off at a fast comfortable pace weaving around people. After a few miles, it was getting dark so I switched on my headlamp. We hit traffic when the trail narrowed to a single track and everyone stopped to wait for the runner in front of them to move forward. Patience, I thought, we still have 90 miles to go.

The trail opened up onto a paved road by a church in Contamines (11:02 PM Fri/ 15mi/ 4,000’ cum). As I passed the church I heard some scream “Joe!” My friend Tim Geyer’s girls, Rachel and Katlyn were jumping up and down cheering me on. (Tim was still out on the second half of the course running his first 50 mile run. Tim’s run started 7 hours before mine at the 45 mile mark (in Courmayer, Italy.)) Also in the crowd were Lisa, Angela and Tim’s wife Pam. I gave Lisa a kiss, told her I was having a great run, and took off to the check point.

After the checkpoint and three miles of a gentle uphill trail alongside a babbling brook in a dense forest we started up the Roman Road, an ancient route from Italy into France for a one mile vertical climb in five miles of trail. The Roman engineers did not know how to build switchbacks so they built a road with a 15 percent grade. I hiked the road at a steady pace keeping my heart rate at 150 beats per minute. As we were climbing in the night we passed a bar where all the patrons were wildly cheering us on. Drunk is drunk in any language and I wondered: who would hurt worse in the morning, them or me?

The road changed into a single track trail after the La Balme aid station (12:39 AM Sat. /21 /5,800’). When I got into the station, I tried a few crackers and cookies to see if I would be eating them for the next two days. Phew. They did not taste very good so I put on my best “French face of disgust” and spit them out. I decided to stick with the food that I was carrying. This was my first run with trekking poles and I was struggling to be able to fill my water and hold onto the poles. It took a few aid stations until I got in the habit of setting my poles against the side of a building or on the ground before taking care of business.

The weather was perfect. The night sky, with a new moon, was full of stars. I could look up and see the several thousand feet of climbing I had in front of me because the mountain was a dark silhouette against the bright stars and the stream of light from all the runners' headlamps lit the way.

I crested the 7982 foot Col du Bonhomme( 23 mi/ 7,800’), our second mountain pass, and started to run the downhill. The downhill, I was surprised to find out, was just as steep as the uphill. I am not sure what I expected, but I did not expect to find my toes jammed into the front of my trail shoes. I retied my shoes and started down again. My toes were all the way forward but fortunately I had clipped the toenails enough that they did not bother me (Yes, we can learn from our previous mistakes!.) We dropped 2900 feet over the next 3.3 miles. I could see small town lights and hear the live rock music wafting up from far, far down the mountain-side.

When I pulled into Les Chapieux at 3:29 AM I had covered 44 kilometers, climbed 8300 feet and thought I was way ahead of my schedule. I was a bit disoriented and thought that Couermayer was just over the next “hill.” I thought that I would be at Couermayer, the half way point major aid station at mile 41, by 6 AM - 2 ½ hours ahead of schedule. When I pulled out my map for the first time I discovered I had fourteen miles to go, not the four that I expected. I had only finished my first marathon in seven hours. Covering the next fourteen miles in three hours wouldn’t have been a problem except that I had two more passes to cross with a 4800 foot ascent and 5900 foot descent.

I ran for an hour out of Les Chapieux, passing the walking runners until we started up a steep climb where we all fell in line. I climbed up the switchback trail, following the stream light from the runners’ headlamps for another two hours and still could not see the top of the pass. Looking back, I could see lights dancing in a single file all the way back to Chapieux. As I crossed from France into Italy an hour later at Col de la Seigne (5:56 AM Sat /34 /11,500’) , I realized that from one vantage point I could see runners separated by four hours. The front runner I saw was four hours ahead of the last runner I saw.

The sky turned from black to light during the 500 meter (1700 foot) drop into Refugee Elisbeabetta (36 mi, 9400). The Italian Army soldiers working the aid station were cooking what I thought was breakfast in large pots. I was waiting for a warm cup of oatmeal, tea or coffee because it was cold and I had run all night in shorts and a layered top. When they pulled spaghetti out of the pot to see if it was cooked my stomach turned, so I took off.

As the sun came up and lit Mont Blanc, the morning did not warm up at all. The mountains to the east cast a shadow on the trail at the lower elevation, causing a false pre-dawn effect that lasted for hours. After crossing Arete Mont-Favre (8:09 AM Sat /39 /13,000) and while running downhill, I slipped on a granite slab that had frosted over. When I pushed my trekking poles down into the slab in front of me to arrest my fall, they slipped and I fell face-first off the trail. Immediately I was surrounded by three runners trying to help me. My knee was a scraped and a bit bloody; my thumb hurt; and, worst of all, my pole was broken. I thanked all the other runners, refused their help and got back to running down the trail. The physical scrapes didn’t bother me, but it would be a struggle if I continued without poles. To fix the situation I did what any outdoor adventurer would do when out in the back country: I pulled out my cell phone and called Lisa. (Who of course is the best crew any runner could ever have!)

The race organization had set up buses to help the race crews get to and from the various major Aid Stations to help their racers. Lisa spent a lot of time on buses chasing me around the mountain during the run. Lisa’s bus was just emerging from the 6 mile long Mont Blanc tunnel between Chamonix and Couermayer when I called and asked her to go to a sports store and buy me the lightest pair of trekking poles they had, regardless of the cost. Lisa hustled to find a store that was open, bought the poles and then ran to the sports center aid station where we met just as I was arriving. It was 9:39 Saturday morning. It had taken 14 hours and 38 minutes to cover 45 miles and climb 13,100 feet. I changed clothes, gave in and did eat spaghetti for breakfast, and took off for Switzerland at 10:10AM on Saturday.

My original plan was to climb the 2700 feet over 3 miles to Refuge Bertone (12:07 PM Sat/ 48/ 15,800’) and then run hard the next seven miles to Arnuva. However, I was tiring and during the climb I let lots of people pass. A 20-something runner and I pulled each other up the hill. We never talked, but she would lead for a while and stop, then I would lead for a while and stop. When I got to the top of the climb at Bertone at noon, I was too tired to run so I went to the edge of the flat spot; looked back over up the valley at 20 miles trail I had run,;laid down and fell asleep listening to the music of the spoken French language.

I didn’t set an alarm because I am good at taking cat naps. I slept peacefully for 15 minutes, got up and took off at a strong walk. I did not feel bad about not running because an elite runner friend told me that by the time the trail was something which could be run, I would be too tired to run. Tim was right.

I got my second wind and felt good for the next 12 hours while enjoying the beauty of the glaciers on Mont Blanc and the surrounding rugged mountains. The trail gently rolled up and down from Bertone into Arnuva (2:34 PM Sat/ 55 /17,300’).

The challenge after Arnuva was a 2600 foot climb in 2.4 miles over the Grand Col de Ferret (5:29 PM Sat, 58, 19,900’) into Switzerland. Half way up this climb I looked up, swore softly, and decided the Europeans would put a trail up anything. I had violated my mental rule about climbing until I reached a pass without thinking about how much further I had to go. As payment for my violation, the Sound of Music song, “Climb Every Mountain,” came into my head and I could not get it out.

The day in Italy had been warm and clear. The rain that started as soon as I got into Switzerland alternated between a drizzle and a downpour. The trail turned muddy and it became a challenge to stay upright on the steep downhill. The trail finally leveled out and we ran gradually downhill for the next 7 miles passing through La Fouly at 102K (7:20 PM Sat/ 63 /19,900’). I turned on my headlamp for the second night of running as I was climbing into the major aid station at Champex Lac (10:48 PM Sat/ 74mi 21,800’).

I arrived at Champex at 11:30 p.m., 30 hours and 30 minutes into the run, where I met Lisa, Angela and David. (David had unfortunately missed a cutoff time at Contamines because they closed the station early. He and Angela had graciously come along with Lisa to help out.) I felt tired and wanted to sit down but did not want to go into the aid station tent because it was warm inside and I preferred the cool outdoors. Unfortunately, there was no place to sit because of the wet so we went in. I sat down and because I had stopped exercising so abruptly, my heart rate and blood pressure dropped, which caused me to start to shake uncontrollably. I wasn't cold but I was nauseous. Lisa had never seen me like this and I was worried that she was worried. I put my head between my legs and rested for a few minutes. Finally I decided to try sleeping to see if the sickness would go away so I asked Lisa to let me sleep for 20 minutes. Compounding my exhausted state was the warning of the Bovine climb; a 33% grade, 1750 foot climb in less than a mile. I had heard about that climb before I even got on the plane for Europe. After Lisa let me sleep for 30 minutes, I felt much better. Lisa, who has always shaken her head at my newly found running obsession, gave me a pep talk. (Lisa was obviously suffering from some form of dementia brought on by lack of sleep and too many diesel fumes.) She told me that I was running strong and had been on a 38 hour pace before I came into Champex. I pulled my stuff together and after spending an hour and a half in the tent went out to attack the Bovine climb.

When I got to the bottom of Bovine I was feeling good again. The climb from there was 500m – mentally, I segmented the climb into 100m increments so it didn’t seem like such a long stretch to the top The climb was a hand-over-fist scramble. When I reach the top at Fremes de Bevoine (3:51 AM Sun/ 78mi /24,100’) I ran and hiked around the ridge of the mountain and down the muddy trail into Trient, Switzerland. The trail was so slick that I fell on my rear a couple times even though I was using poles.

As I was running through the village of Trient (5:50 AM Sun/ 82mi / 24,300’), a man standing in the street asked if I want a massage. I was confused and thought either I was hallucinating because I was on my second night of running with only 45 minutes cumulated sleep, or the French really knew how to treat the runners. After I declined he told me the aid station was one half kilometer down the street. By this time I had stopped eating or drinking anything in the aid stations except for tea and was subsisting solely on water and eCrank energy gel shots every half-hour.

It was a bit surreal for the rest of the night. When it was getting light, I kept thinking I was seeing houses in the woods just off the trail ahead of me. When I approached a house, it turned into rocks and trees.

I slowed down a little as I dropped from Switzerland back into France at Les Essert (86/ 26,900). I enjoyed listening to the church bells for the 7 a.m. Sunday Mass as I passed through Argentiere at 148 km (10:36 AM Sun/ 92mi / 27,600’). With only 10 km left, I could feel the finish and picked up the pace and started running again. I had learned during my other long runs that speeding up got the blood circulating and actually reduced the pain in the legs. I was excited and alert and started passing other runners. During the last 4 km I felt like I was running at a blazing speed down into Chamonix.

Turning the corner onto the main street 500 m from the finish, I almost ran into the crowd of cheering spectators. The thick cheering crowd parted as I ran toward the finish. The scene was reminiscent of the stage finishes broadcast for the Tour de France. People were taking my picture and then jumping out of the way as I ran.

I had a huge smile on my face as I finished in Chamonix (12:19 PM Sun/ 98 miles/ 28,200 feet climb and 28,200 foot drop). Lisa and the rest of my newly formed crew were waiting for me. After receiving my finisher’s jacket I went over and had real food for the first time in two days. The cheese and sausage sandwich washed down with beer tasted wonderful. I felt remarkably good for a guy who just ran and hiked for forty one hours. My time, not that it really matters, was 41h17mn58s.

The Tour du Mont Blanc was fun. I was well conditioned and rested going into the race. I did not have any of the epic struggles with blisters, stomach or muscle problems that I had during my two Western States 100 mile runs. My only minor issue was a little blister on my baby toe. I lanced that blister at Champex Lac but did not even bother to bandage it. I ran a smart race. When I look back at my split times it shows that I continually moved up in the standings. I truly lived in the moment of the run. Though I had a rough idea of the course, I had no idea what was ahead of me since I had never been on the trail. I just kept going. I made sure I was well ahead of the cutoff times and just enjoyed the beauty and the people around me.

Much of the fun was derived from the people around me. Thanks to Lisa for following me around. She slept only a little more than I did. She tells stories of riding back to Chamonix from Couermayer and Champex Lac with buses full of tired, smelly, dejected runners who did not finish. Thanks to our new Brit friends David and Angela. Thanks to my running buddies, Tim, Asaf, Steve and Marc for keeping me company during the six months of training runs. And finally, thanks to my coach, Scott Jurek, for guiding me with run schedules, nutrition, hydration, gear suggestions, blister prevention methods, and his positive reinforcement while I pushed my physical and mental limits.

After running the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run and the North Face Ultra Trail Tour du Mont Blanc within two months, I am ready for a rest!

Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run - June 25, 2006

Pictures are located at http://picasaweb.google.com/wildexplore


I cannot get it right. Every time I sit down to capture the incredible day I spent running the Western states 100 mile endurance run I can't get find the right words. It was a day of conflicts. I pushed myself as hard as physically as I could, yet I never felt exhausted or drained. The 110 plus degree heat sapped my energy, but it never felt oppressive. I was extremely well trained but still got a under trained injury. Instead of cruising hard on the flats and down hills, I was running hard on the flats and up hill. Mentally I felt sharp and focused, yet I did not remember where I had stashed my electrolytes and had to improvise. I was confident I would finish and afraid of missing the cutoffs.

This run was truly ugly, and I finished!

This year Western was a run of attrition. A total of 189 people out of 399 starters did not finish. Many of those who dropped are much stronger runners than I. This amazingly low 52% completion rate illustrates how tough the course was on Saturday June 25. I started the run thinking I would break the magical 24 hour time and win a silver belt buckle. As the day unfolded I felt honored just to be able to finish.

The 100 plus degree temperatures and course change combined with gastro and bio-mechanical problems made completing this run an extraordinary feat. I adapted from my 24 hour goal as the day unfolded. I'm more proud of this finish than I am of my first finish.

At the 5:00 AM start at the Squaw Valley lodge I felt excited and a little apprehensive. I knew the day was going to be hot and the revised course back through Duncan Canyon was going to be slower than the 2004 course. I had been in the canyon section of the course two weeks earlier and it was a mess.

I talked with friends as I set a strong yet comfortable pace up the Mountain Run road toward the Escarpment. One man commented that when the breeze was warm at 8000 feet at 5:30 in the morning it was going to be a scary day. As I got to the first aid station 2.5 miles into the run in 47 minutes and 1700 feet of climbing, I found myself right where I wanted to be, in the middle of the pack.

As I took off up the hill my wife, Lisa took off back to the car. When she was walking down the path where we parked the car just past the bridge between the creek and the building a bear came up from the creek. Lisa gave a startled sound, the bear looked at her and she backed up fast and the bear took off up the mountain.

We hit the first long stretch of snow right after the Escarpment aid station. It was tough walking through the snow without slipping too much. The snow slowed the climbing speed. However, I got to the top without much problem and started down through the Granite Chief Wilderness.

On the back side I was happy I was not in a long line of runners going slow. I came upon a line a few moments later and as I passed I realized the lead was Alexendre, from Paris whom I met Thursday night at dinner. Crossing the snow at a walk to keep from falling and sweating at 6:15 AM was another indicator of the heat to come. The stretches of snow, with the longest being in the Shirley Lake area of Squaw did slow me down, but not as much as expected because the front runners beat a pretty good path that provided traction. I did get into a line of runners gingerly stepping down a snow covered slope. I took advantage of my skiing days and moved out on the snowfield for some shoe slushing?

Running the high country trails was beautiful. Unfortunately, my stomach was bugging me from the time I got out of bed. Even though my gut hut, I knew I had to keep getting carbs in me and forced myself to eat to keep on my feed plan. I know from experience that falling behind on the nutrition would end my run early. A total of 28,000 calories would be burned during the run and I could only take in 12,000 calories.

As we dropped to lower elevation the snow melt ran down the middle of the trail. Several runners were trying to keep their feet dry and it was costing them time. I blasted up the middle of the stream not too worried about getting my feet wet.

I got in and out of the second aid station, Lyon Ridge (10.5 mi) at 7:25; 25 minutes slower than the 24 hour pace time. I was not worried; I arrived at the aid station the exact time I did two years ago when I ran the first half of the course at a 24 hour pace and finished in 27 hours. I was much better conditioned and smarter this year, so I should be able to finish strong.

Between Lyon Ridge and Duncan Canyon we ran along a ridge. We climbed and dropped. When looking to the west we had views of the next 30 miles of the course. At one time I thought I was close to the Red Star A/S because the switchbacks down a forested trail seemed familiar. I was mistaken.

Before I got to the Red Star A/S I stopped to relieve myself in the woods to try and recovery my stomach

At the third aid station, Red Star Ridge 16 miles into the run, I was on a 27 hour pace. I felt I could slowly get back on my planned 24-hour pace if I pushed it just a little bit. However, over the next 7.8 miles the heat was slowing me down and I stopped a couple of time to use ‘the bathroom behind every tree’. During this section of the run I got passed by Jack, who I would later see bundled in a space blanket at mile 50 and Georgia another strong runner who would finish in under 24 hours. I was very concerned about the forecast hot temperatures, which is why I carried a 2 liter hydration pack. I made sure the pack was filled with ice and water throughout the day. Unfortunately, I ran out of water about 2 miles before the Duncan Canyon aid station. I knew that was not good given my stomach turning and running the heat would bring on dehydration. I think almost everyone ran out of water in that section. The problem was we were running through a section of trail that had been shaded before a forest fire burned through the area several years ago. The tall black sticks around us did not give any shade and the trail footing was loose because of the burned out root sections.

When I did get to the Duncan Canyon A/S at mile 23.8 at 10:47 I was surprised that I dropped back to seven minutes off the 30 hour pace. I was concerned that this early in the race if I did not pick up my pace, I would get pulled at the next aid station. The people in the A/S said they only had 45 minutes until they closed completely. Later, I found out that 50 people, including my good friend Cindy Goh missed that cutoff.

I walked and jogged down hill to the bottom of Duncan Canyon. I jumped in the stream and sat down in the water to cool my legs, got up and started hiking the 2.5 miles up to Robinson Flat. The distance from the start to the creek crossing is the equivalent of one marathon. I had three more marathons to run.

I could not believe how slow tired I was this early in the run as we climbing out of the canyon. I felt strong in my chest but my legs were heavy. I got encouraged when I heard someone say, we are all tired at this point. I also remember the advice of Mark Williams. He worked the a/s and said that most people came out of the canyon pretty beat up

When I pulled into Robison at mile 28.9 it was 12:40. I had been running for 7 hours and 40 minutes. Because of the heat and elevation I violated my plan to get in and out of aid stations quickly. I needed to pull myself together if I was going to finish. At the medical check weigh in I had lost 4 pounds from the start and I was slightly dehydrated. I drank a couple of cokes and a boost from my drop bag. I asked the volunteer to fill my bag with lots of ice and water. When she told me there was no ice I gave her an incredulous look. Then I remembered there was snow field on the climb just out of the aid station up to Little Bald Mountain. I was smart enough to get clean snow to add to my hydration pack. The stop would add time to dig the snow to refill the pack, but it would save time by preventing overheating.

After 29 miles my stomach finally settled.

I walked up Little Bald to recover. As I crested the ridge I had planned on running hard down the 15 miles of gradual downhill, but it was too hot. I passed a few people, but mainly just cruised when I pulled back my effort to survive the heat. It felt good to get to Miller’s Defeat a/s. After refilling the hat with ice and the camelback with ice water I was off.

Between miles 29 and 42 my attitude changed from shooting for 24 hours to just keep moving and stay ahead of the absolute cutoffs. I planned to save myself during the heat of the day and run hard during the night.

shoes and pre taped feet felt so good that I forgot about them. Pre taping the night before worked earlier in the year at the Miwok 100K. However, I felt cutting on the top of my feet at the duct tape edges so I stopped to trim twice before Robinson Flat, once after Miller’s Defeat, and once more along Pucker Point. I changed into old socks at RF not remembering the new ones in my pack. The old sock had a pressure point that caused a blister later on.

My pace was steady during this section of the run. I passed people and they passed me when I sat down to do any repairs.

Dropping into Pucker Point I felt my right lower quad getting a little sore. This was surprising because I had not had that problem during training. I smiled at the ultra saying to not worry about what hurts at the start of an ultra, something else will hurt later.

I got to the Last Chance station at mile 43.3 at 4:20, twenty minutes behind the 30 hour cut off. The heat had really impacted my time. A fellow Stevens Creek Strider, Jean Pommier helped me with my drop bag. I thought I had stashed my next 8 hours of salt tablets in that bag, but they were not there.

I started to get concerned about my nutrition and hydration. The key to these long runs is to drink and eat all day long. A runner burns more calories than can be taken in, so it is important to keep consuming carbohydrates. I would eat at least 150 calories every half hour when my watch alarm went off. At the same time I needed to keep my electrolytes up. I was taking Succeed sodium tablets every half hour during the heat of the day and I started to panic when I saw that I did not have my supply with me. I adapted and substituted by eating the salty foods at the aid stations.

When I got to the steep section going into Deadwood Canyon I found I could no longer run downhill. I fast walked and hobbled down to the swinging Bridge at mile 44. I stopped at the creek to cool off before the the Devil’s Thumb climb . One runner was encouraging a lady to cool herself off by getting in the stream. She retorted that she did not have time to get into the stream. I took off my hydration pack and sunglasses and went in the creek fully dunking myself. I stood up drenched from head to toe, put my gear back on and was on the trail before the other runners finished wetting themselves down.

I hiked steadily up the 31 switchbacks to the aid station. I told myself that if I was one hour behind the 30 hour cutoff, I was done for the day even if I was ahead of the absolute cutoff. I arrived right at the 30 hour cut off time. How did I make up 20 minutes when I walked down the last part of the canyon? When I saw the sign stating the 30 hour pace was 5:50. I remember thinking, damn, since I am back on the 30 hour bubble I have to go on.

A tall, good-looking volunteer directed me to the ice water sponges and to the popsicles. The popsicles were the best I ever had. She told us that there are only 120 people that had gone through the aid station. She said, ‘you all think you're in bad shape, but you're in better shape than most of the runners and the front runners are at least two hours behind the normal pace. The temperature in the canyons was 116 degrees. After hearing her comments combined with my heat exhaustion. I thought it will be an honor and a privilege to finish the run this year. So I got up and took off down into el Dorado Canyon.

After some rolling single track the trail gradually becomes steeper and steeper just past the Deadwood Cemetery. As the downhill grade increased the pain in my quad above the knee increased. I had a neoprene ankle wrapped in my pack that I wrapped around my knee. That helped a little but not much. Due to the pain my pace slowed and I got passed by several runners on the way down. About a quarter-mile the bottom I was standing alongside the trail trying to massage my leg when the safety patrol came by and asked how I was doing. I emotionally told them I was done for the day. I could not go downhill without sever pain. He asked if I needed help to get out of the canyon and I told him no, I can get on down the trail under my own power.

When I got into the aid station at the bottom of the canyon, I sat in the chair and told the medical personnel that I was done. They asked if I wanted to cut my band, which would have officially dropped me from the run. No, I told them I would wait until I got out of the canyon to Michigan Bluff (mile 55) and drop there.

After sitting in the chair an EMT came over and asked how I was doing. I told him I my knee would not let me go on. He checked me out and told me my knee was not swollen and not damaged.

Sitting in that chair eating a brownie from the aid station my attitude changed. I dug in and decided that I was going to try and finish. I asked the EMT if he could tape up my knee so I could finish this run! He taped my knee. I knew I could run uphill, so I did. My plan was to run hard up every hill and on the flats and run my best downhill.

I was mad. I felt strong but could not run downhill due to mechanics. I power walked past several people and when I started running uphill I got lots of encouragement. I was in great shape and decided I would run hard the last 2 ½ miles of my race and either get professionally taped up or drop at mile 55.

I ran up the canyon with another member of the safety patrol and told him about my knee. He suggested that since it was not swollen it must be misaligned and I could get it aligned by a chiropractor at Michigan Bluff. After running strong uphill I tried to run the final 100 yards downhill into the aid station. I could not run at all. My gears were stuck on uphill. It was 8:24 PM when I got weighed in at Michigan Bluff where I got my hips adjusted by chiropractor. He told me I was in great shape other than my hips.

Lisa, my one person crew, looked very worried when I saw her. I told her I was okay. She was concerned about my race and a little about my health. After 24 years of marriage she knew me well enough to know I was determined to finish. Later she told me that the Bluff was scattered with pacers who runner did got cut or dropped before they got to the aid station. The pacers where upset and were looking to pace anyone who needed it.

It was Lisa who suggested at the last minute she put my flashlights in the crew bag for Michigan Bluff, just in case… I told her that it was okay, but if I needed flashlights out of Michigan, I would be in trouble at that point of the run. Thank God she did bring them. I got my flashlight and ran into Volcano Canyon. Due to my time on the chiropractor table I was once again behind the 30 hour cutoff.

Volcano Canyon had been my demon. I did not like this section of the course because it was cut up, steep and right in the middle of the run. The trial had been graded and my negative mental image was unfounded. It felt strange running alone at night with no one around and no pacer. I came up on a couple of people running with pen lights because they had put their headlamps in the drop bag at Foresthill. They could hardly see the trail. I would have given them one of my two headlamps if I had a spare up the trial.

Coming up the last section of the canyon I saw the silhouette of my good friends against their headlamps, Tim and Asaf. Tim is tall and Asaf is short so it was easy to pick out the pair.

When I got to mile 62 at Foresthill I was ½ hour ahead of the 30 hour cutoff. I was having recurring quad problems and blister problems so I stopped for ½ hour and got them tended. Back on the 30 hour bubble Asaf and I took of down to the American River at 10:35 PM. I had been running for over 17 hours.

Asaf Matatyaou paced me from Bath Road down to the American River crossing. Tim Geyer paced me the last 20 miles. The night was somewhat of a blur. I could run up hill and on the flats but not downhill. I ran more uphill than I planned, and needed to adapt in order to finish.

My mantra became attitude and adaptation. At every steep downhill section I would hobble on my good leg. On a very steep downhill I turned around and walked backwards down the hill.

There is a gentle downhill switchback section that I wanted to run hard down to the River. In 2004 my blisters were so bad I could not run, this year it was my knee that prevented me from moving fast. I did keep moving during this section. We pulled into Dardenelles A/S and took a picture by the neon open sign. We got into Peachstone A/S, mile 70.7, at 12:47 Sunday Morning. I was still putting ice in my hat to keep cool.

My throat was sore and my feet hurt. I knew I was getting blisters, but ignored the pain. Asaf talked to me about World Cup soccer but I was not very engaging due to my focused concentration and my sore throat.

I told Asaf there was steep uphill at the bottom of the grade that I was looking forward to climbing. Usually I don’t like these steep climbs, but tonight I would pound any uphill I could.

At one time we turned off our lights and just enjoyed the stars.

We got to the near side of the River crossing at 2 AM. I gave a sweaty hug to my friend Whitney Stephenson who volunteers at the medical check. She came down and talked with me while we waited for the raft to take us across the River. Normally we wade the River, but the snow melt kept the River too high for safe crossing so we were rafted across.

We met Tim on the other side where the three of us walked the steep hill up to Green Gate at mile 80. It was 3 AM when we got out of the Green Gate. I had covered 80 miles in 22 hours.

…..

Tim and I took off for the last 20 miles. I managed to run most of this section. My quad was still bothering me.

Tim told me stories and I did not respond.

It got light before we arrived at the ALT aid station. Last time I ran this run I was six miles down the trail before it got light. Tim was patient when I hobbled on the down hill slops.

We got into Brown’s Bar, mile 89.9 at 7 AM. I was still feeling strong on the up hill runs. Tim told me we had the race in bag and would be in Auburn by 11 AM. I told Tim I was concerned about the downhill section after highway 49. I did not want to walk that section and get cut from the run. I wanted to build a buffer.

I figured out a different running style during that downhill section by blocking my hips more, and managed to run that downhill section faster than other sections.

When I got to No Hands Bridge, the lowest elevation in the course, I started celebrating. I danced to the good rock music blasting out of the aid station. I did not check my camelback, which was a mistake.

I ran out of water as the temperature was climbing. We only had 2 miles to go to the next and last aid. O got a shot of ice water at the Robie Point a/s.

I still felt good even at mile 99. Asaf met us at Robie Point. We walked it in. I could have kept running, but just enjoyed celebrating and took it easy. It didn’t make any difference if I came in at 29:10 or 29:20.

I came into the track at Auburn and crossed the line at 29:21. I finished 175 out of 399 starters.

Immediately I was taken to the medical area to finish the endurance study I had been involved in for DARPA. They were doing nutritional testing to see about adding a supplement to the soldier rations so they can be alert longer.

My training got me through this tough incredible day.

The carnage of the day went from the front runner to the back of the pack. The front runner, Brian Morrison collapsed on the track after running 100 hard miles. He could not continue. His pacers, Scott Jurek and my friend Jason Davis helped him across the finish. He passed out at the finish and was rushed to the hospital. His diagnosis was hyponatremia, he sweated out his electrolytes and his liver shut down. He is fine now. Brian was disqualified because he was assisted. First place was awarded to Graham Cooper, who crossed the finish 12 minutes later.

Finishing this beast felt great!


I want to thank the Western states volunteers. Without them I would not have finished. I started to write a paragraph for each volunteer and how they helped. I end up with two pages of text and had not gotten to one half of the volunteers, so let me just summarize:

I apologize to the volunteer at Robinson Flat.
To the tall, good-looking volunteer who appeared to be in charge at Devil's Thumb. She told us even though we were behind the 30 hour cut off, there were only about 120 people in front of us. She said we were in better shape than most and we needed to get out of the aid station. I later ran into her as she was walking from Bath Road into Volcano Canyon.

To the medical staff at Eldorado Creek. I told him I was finished for the day because I could not run downhill. They asked if I wanted to drop there and I told them I would wait till I ran up to Michigan Bluff. (I could run uphill and on flat but could not run downhill.) An EMT told me there was no swelling in my knee and taped up my leg temporarily so I could get out of the canyon on my own power.

To the safety patrol working Eldorado Canyon. They made sure I was OK when I was slowly walking downhill. When I was running/walking up the canyon one of the safety patrol suggested I have a chiropractor in Michigan adjust my leg.

To the chiropractor in Michigan Bluff and the one in Foresthill who adjusted my hips so I could keep going.

To Gordy Ainsleigh, for organizing the chiropractors.

To Greg, who taped my feet in Foresthill.

To my wife
To my friend Whitney Stevenson. I look forward to seeing her at the river crossing medical check. It's a mental boost knowing I have a friend on the trail who will give me a bear hug even though I am sweaty.

To my pacers Tim and Asaf, for keeping me entertained with stories even though I did not respond.

And finally to the trail crews. The reopened section of the trail was tough. However, I was on this section of trail two weeks earlier and could not believe what good shape the trail was in on race day. The debris that littered the trail was gone. I know it did not seem like it, but I swear the trail was swept clean before the run.
Walked into el Dorado canyon – planned on running hard. Emotional with the safety patrol. Told the medical person I was done. Offered to cut my wristband and official drop me from the race. Asked if I could get out of the canyon on my own power. I had a brownie and a coke. I asked if I could be taped up so I could run downhill. Tape job was good, but it did nothing for the uphill. No swelling. I was still ½ hour or more behind the 30 hour pace.