Subject: Cascade Crest Classic 100 Miler (Long Report)
From: "Covarrubias, Tony (IT_Supp_App)" <Tcovarrubias@russell.com>
Date: Thu, 29 Aug 2002 21:22:01 -0700


Pre-race: I was very nervous before this year's race. I DNFd early last
year, so this would still be my first 100 mile trail run ... if I finished.
The nerves served me well to keep me on an even keel; to keep the distance
and difficulty of this particular 100 miler in perspective; give it the
proper respect as it were. However, my back started hurting from the stress
of it all starting about Wednesday. My last real long run was the 50 miler
at White River. I had felt great all day there; staved off the temptation to
race; still ran strong; and came out uninjured.

Last meal: Among other things done wrong last year, I ate a huge meal before
the race, taking "eat early and often" to an extreme. I decided to forgo the
great food provided and stick with my normal long run breakfast - a peanut
butter and honey sandwich with an ensure chaser.

Other changes of note: Since I believe that last year's DNF had some to do
with an electrolyte imbalance, I had tested taking Succeed tabs on long
runs. It worked well and I would take one at each aid station except for
those that were close or if the weather conditions didn't make sense to do
so. These are normally taken on a timed basis (every 1 to 2 hours), but
since I don't wear a watch, I have to come up with another scheme. Also, I
carried a maglite backup from start to finish. Again, last year when I had
to quit, I was force to walk from about mile 26 to mile 35 - the mile 30 aid
station had been mis-informed that I had dropped earlier and pulled out. As
a result, I got to a point where it was too dark to follow the trail and I
ended up waiting for a couple of hours before my crew found me.

Race day:  I was physically ready but I was a mental wreck ... so I guess I
was exactly how I was supposed to be. Someone shouted, "Go!," and the herd
was off.

Start to Goat Peak Trail Head:
The temps were already starting to climb and the group was moving pretty
fast. I held back in the back of the pack so that I wouldn't be tempted to
go out with some of those I thought I could keep up with. This had to be MY
race. I had to start as I had planned and not worry about everyone else. 100
miles is a long way to be making a mistake early. Unbelievable the pace
people were moving at ... plod, plod, plod I went. Then we got to the first
climb ... Goat Peak trail. I needed to hold back my temptation to climb this
part fast. I did my best but was still passing people like mad (hey, I guess
reality set in for them). I finally reached a group of about 6 guys who were
content to march up together. The pack was lead by Fred Stafford and
included John Morelock and Ron Nichol. It's a pretty tight single track
trail which makes it difficult to pass. I decided to see if I could hold the
slow pace to the top but that didn't last very long. My back's hurting still
and I needed to get moving for my own sanity. I caught up to Robin Fry and
another guy soon after passing the big group. Robin asked if the trail was
all like this. I queried, "You mean steep?" "Well that too but I mean single
track." I'm not sure why that was funny to me, but anyway, the climb
continued and I passed several more people. This worried me just a bit but
my internal HM (don't use the mechanical kind) was telling me I was ok, so I
forged on ahead.

To Tacoma Pass (mile 24) via Cole Butte and Blowout Mt:
Fast forward ahead a bit ... I was met by some of those I had passed on the
way up to Goat Peak on the downhill (not my forte). One of those was Catra
Corbit with whom I had a nice conversation. But not too long, it was soon
time to climb again so off I went. I was alone again for a short stretch and
caught Ron Nichol on the way down to Tacoma Pass. Ron is a good downhiller
but was being conservative on this - the nicest portion of the race in my
opinion (slight grade down, soft trail, no rocks  [;-)] . We caught Dave Dutton
who I had seen briefly before we hit the first down hill. Ron and I came
into Tacoma Pass together, followed closely by Dave. My pacer, Glenn
Tachiyama, was there from the start and crewed me at this station. I moved
out of the aid station fairly quickly as did Ron and Dave. I was carrying
and eating a turkey and cheese sandwich that I had prepared but was still
out walking the other two. I heard Ron say something to Dave about our
differing techniques and that's the last I saw of them.

To Snowshoe Butte (mile 30) and Stampede Pass (mile 35.5):
On the way to the next aid station, I finally saw someone up ahead. I was
making some ground but not a lot. This was good, I thought, because if I
caught this guy, maybe I'd have someone to run with. I did catch him (Clem
LaCava) eventually and we made it in to the next aid station. Clem wasn't
feeling too well and I thought I had lost my next running partner to a DNF.
I left Clem there and headed for Stampede Pass where I would see my
fantastic crew, Glenn T. and Kirsten Lemke. When I got there, my crew and
another friend, Kat, helped me get ready for the next two legs. I wanted to
change shirts since I was getting cold at this point, so I asked for my
yellow Autumn Leaves shirt. I love this shirt as it really keeps me warm. We
were advised to take along a light jacket as it was raining in other parts
of the course. There were hands moving everywhere and people asking me
questions. This is the station where we have to leave with a flashlight, so
the aid personnel were asking me if I had one; my crew was asking about the
jacket; "Yes, tie it on;" Do I need a sandwich? ... it was great! I almost
hated to leave all of that attention  [;-)] but did. Clem showed up as I was
leaving, so he was hanging in there.


On to Meadow Mountain (mile 42) and into Olallie Meadow (mile 49):
These two sections were long but not bad at all. We had climbs but nothing
too bad as I recall. Clem ran with me off and on again through this section.
It was somewhere along here that I started to think. My stomach had started
to act up before Stampede Pass, but I didn't want to alarm my crew and
didn't mention it. All of the sudden, I started peeing a lot. After 3 stops,
I started paying attention to this. I peed 7 times between Stampede Pass and
Olallie Meadow (13.5 mile stretch). It finally occurred to me where my
stomach discomfort was coming from - too much water. I had done this once
before in a 24 hour but I didn't catch that one in time. I think the reason
I over hydrated here was that it was warm at the start. I drank a lot
between aid stations; then when it cooled off, I forgot to back off the
hydration. Seems like a silly mistake, but it wasn't obvious to me that I
was doing it.

Once into Olallie Meadow, I informed my crew that I was having stomach
problems but that I thought I had it figured out. Glenn told me later that I
had lost my sense of humor by then so he knew something was up. Glenn
offered me some pirogies which I thought would be a nice change of pace ...
"Argh! Onions." He didn't know that my stomach doesn't tolerate onions. That
really would have done a number on my stomach ... and I was looking forward
to those. Oh, well ... off I went to the next set of miles. I was looking
forward to getting through the tunnel (2.5 miles long, pitch black) and to
the other side where Glenn would be waiting anxiously to pace me from there
on in to the finish.

Hyak (mile 55):
Kirsten and Kat were there at Hyak as well to make sure I had what I needed
before I headed out again into the night. Kat would soon have Ron to pace to
the finish as well. Kirsten is so organized and had exactly what I had asked
for at the previous aid station. Here, I took in two Jell-O cups with fruit.
Mmmm, good! I ate; dropped off my flashlight (wouldn't need  it with the
full moon but had my spare just in case); got everything else replenished,
and took off. Glenn's light was flickering and I thought he might need to go
back for another just before we hit the road. Then I realized that he was
just shivering. "Put some clothes on boy!" That didn't last long as he soon
warmed up.

To Keechelus Ridge (mile 62):
The next section was an uphill climb on a logging road. Since there were no
obstacles, I didn't have to fumble with my flashlight - good call. It was
slow going as we were power walking a lot of it. I did run on parts of the
uphill, which made Glenn a bit skeptical - he wanted to make sure I didn't
use up all my strength before hitting the mountains again on the other side
of the lake. I had to use my judgement which told me I was strong enough on
the uphill climbs. Once at the next aid station, we caught a break and hit a
long down hill to the following aid station. I had passed by Robin Fry again
and saw Clem coming in just as I headed out.

To Kachess Lake (@ mile 70):
Heading downhill towards the lake was nice. I had dreaded the downhill
section as my knee was increasingly bothering me due to the rocks and
sliding and twisting single track trail all day. Since this section was all
logging road, the footing was stable and my knee didn't bother me that much.
Still not using my light, I cruised at a tolerable pace for as long as I
could. I tried to stretch my running sections out since I was running slower
than I was capable of. I passed Randy Albrecht just a little before heading
into the aid station. The atmosphere was chilled-out here. Folks were around
the campfire, soup and grilled cheese were going on, and Kirsten was there
with exactly what I needed. I decided to empty out my shoes here again as it
felt like I had sandpaper for socks. I did that and things FELT better. I
ate some, drank a can of ensure, took my Succeed tab, was handed my Bison
flashlight with fresh batteries from Kirsten and was off.

To Mineral Creek (mile 75) via the "trail-from-hell':
I knew the trail from hell was going to be tough so I had planned on this
being a slow section. I would start off walking to get used to the dark and
make sure that we didn't get lost (I was NOT going to do extra credit
today!)  Ends up, you have to navigate some non-trail to get to the actual
trail. Now, I had told myself I wouldn't curse Randy while on the course.
After all, I knew what I was getting into when I signed up. But folks, this
is ridiculous. Luckily, my sense of humor was back and Glenn and I navigated
just fine down to the REAL trail. I noticed that my sock emptying, for some
reason, had caused an irritation on the side of my left foot. I tried to
ignore it but it was getting worse. I couldn't feel anything there, but
something was rubbing me the wrong way. I finally stopped and switched
socks. Can you believe it! That actually worked. We had one "oops this may
be wrong" and I made Glenn climb up to see if the flagging went in another
direction (it was only about 20 feet but it was steep - so I sat there on my
butt while he checked things out). He confirmed that we needed to go in the
other direction and I gladly climbed out at that time. Going through the
trail, once we were on it, wasn't really that bad. I guess I psyched myself
up so much for it that my imagination made it worse than it was. It did take
forever but I kept looking out at the lake for a reality check. I knew that
we needed to get to the end of the lake (which you can see from the trail at
different points) before crossing over to Mineral Creek. The sun was rising
while I was on this trail so the lake kept getting easier and easier to see
... which gave me a sense of how far I had to go. I don't mind if I know I
have a long way to go if I can see how long it is, so that really helped. We
crossed over a couple of logs that were questionable. That is, questionable
whether someone sleep deprived and with spent legs should be attempting. I
wasn't worried about it and just went for it - cautiously but quickly. The
first one was about 10 feet above the water and had I fallen into that, I
don't know what I would have done. Finally over the last log to Mineral
Creek, we were in daylight.

At Mineral Creek, I changed back into my short sleeve shirt, dropped of my
flashlight, and changed socks (sorry Kirsten. Actually, she picked them up
with the plastic bag I brought and, as she said, "This is how I pick up my
dog poop!" Yeah, and that probably isn't near as bad as my socks). I ate
almost everything that was handed to me and took a sandwich for the road. I
had eaten it by the time Kirsten drove by on the way out of the aid station.
Then, at the intersection where she would have to head out, she had Jell-O
and fruit for me, which she made me eat.

To No Name Ridge (mile 82):
The road to No Name Ridge was slow going. It was an uphill grade and
somewhat runible. I walked most of it and attempted to run when I could.
Nothing exciting happened along this section for me and Glenn and I were
pretty quiet along the way. Once into the No Name Ridge trail head aid
station (mile 82), I was ready to start the climb up cardiac needles and to
Thorp Mt. I ate some fruit, got some water and was ready to head out. It was
here that I heard the radio announcing Scott Eppleman's finish. I asked if
he was the winner and the aid station folks said, "No, someone named Tim ?
won." Hmmm! Who is that? Anyway, off to the climb.

To Thorpe Mt (mile 86):
Going up cardiac needles wasn't as bad as I had remembered. Glenn scurried
up to the top and was a beacon for me to know how much I had left to go. At
the top, "Ah, that wasn't so bad." The trail from there was a bit rocky and
uneven, which was not good for my knee. I had to move slowly along this
section and almost wished for more climb to reduce the pain on my knee.
Soon, we were met by Clem and his pacer Curt Ringstad They were moving
pretty quickly so I gladly stepped aside. We all climb up toward Thorpe Mt,
which was hellish for me. It was step, on loose dirt, twisting, and rocky,
but at least it was long. It was not the climb I remembered in training from
last year. On the climb, we could see the clouds moving in very rapidly over
the mountain. I got an ugly feeling about the possibility of rain. It was a
bogus fear as the day heated up quite nicely, but at the time I didn't know
what I would do if it had started to rain and I was stricken with fear. Back
down wasn't as bad as I thought it would be although it was slow going. Clem
was seated in a chair again (how does he get away with that?) and I was
looking for some REAL food at the aid station. Nothing doin. I  grabbed what
looked like a breakfast bar which turned out to be fat free (yeah, like I
need to worry about that now).

To French Cabin Mt (mile 90):
I don't remember too much of the stretch between Thorpe Mt and French Cabin
Mt (mile 90). I do know that there is more climbing, which went well I
think. Still, the going was slow, the clock was ticking, but I was moving
forward towards my ultimate goal. Once at French Cabin Mt, all I can
remember is that I got water and some small food, then asked how far it was
to the next aid station. I wanted to stay mentally prepared for a long slow
trek and ensure I had enough water. 7 miles was the answer; from there, I
would only have the 3 mile road section to the finish. I asked about the
grade and I now recall that Tim Stroh was there to answer. He told me that
it was mostly down hill ... not necessarily a good thing. I mentioned that I
had a sore knee and that the rocky downs were aggravating it. He was
straight forward with his response. He said that there were some rough
sections and some steep downhills,  but I would catch a break here and there
with some nice trail.

To Kachess Ridge Trail Head (mile 97):
Mentally prepared, I set off on the next section. Tim was true to his word
and I slowed significantly on the knee torquing downs. Glenn started to
remember some of the trail from our one training run on it last year. He was
getting excited and anxious for me to finish. I noted that I was starting to
get hungry for the first time on the course. They really need to have bigger
food at Thorpe Mt. But I realize that it's a hike in aid station and it is
just not practical to bring much up there. I sucked down some Hammer Gel, as
I had been doing throughout, and that took off the edge. I had taken some
Ibuprofen during the lake section, but that didn't seem to make a
difference, so I decided not to take anymore at this point. Glenn was trying
his best to encourage and motivate me to fight the rest of the way through.
He asked me to dig deep. My response was a whiny, "I have  been digging
deep." His response was perfect for me at the time. I think I just needed
the acknowledgement and I heard it in his voice. Nothing profound, just "I
know you have been digging deep Tony. Just do it again." That's all I needed
to get me to try and run again. My running stretches were getting longer,
albeit slow, and I was putting up a fight. I heard Kathy Welch and her pacer
every once in a while and that sparked me to push a little more. We ran into
a runner having trouble (June Gessner) and who was relegated to walking it
in. We introduced ourselves and wished her luck. No time for talking now. We
soon met up with some hikers who said that the switch backs to the next aid
station were coming up ... maybe a  quarter of a mile. In non-running terms,
that can be anywhere from 100 feet to a couple of miles. It was more like a
mile, or so it seemed, but I was moving with purpose by then and I gritted
my teeth going down the switch backs. My legs had some left in them and my
knee was holding up through here, so I check my water and made the decision
to run through the next aid station.

To The Big Finish (mile 100):
As I approached the Kachess Ridge trail head aid station, I hollered "Number
8 in and out. Which way?" "Straight ahead and to the right number 8. Follow
the flags," was their response. Ah, flat dirt road. It wasn't my favorite
(asphalt) but it would do. I had heard Kathy and her pacer again on the
switch back and had told Glenn, "I can stay ahead of her once I hit the
road. If I have any leg left, not many are going to pass me on the road." We
were running what seemed like an 8:30 pace, but that's hard form me to gauge
on spent legs. At any rate, it was fast. We stopped once to walk a short
hill, after looking back to ensure no one was there of course, then
continued on. I maintained the fast pace and continued to drive hard down
the road. One more left turn right before I-90. I could see the exit to Park
Side cafe up ahead and to the right. "Maintain the pace ... keep moving." We
made the final turn, right, and could see the finish line crowd. Glenn said,
"Sprint." "NO! I don't do that," I replied. As we approached, I could see my
wife to the side ready to take some pictures. I wasn't sure she would be
able to make it to the finish as she was at my daughter's soccer tourney
earlier in the day, so that was an added bonus to have her and the kids
there. We continued on and Glenn peeled off so that I could cross the finish
alone. Just before the finish, I threw my bottles into the air ... that was
all I could think of to do to say, "Hell yeah! I did it!"

Kirsten was there to greet me with a high five. Kendall was there as well to
congratulate me and tell me what kind of race he had. Randy Gehrke and Ron
Behrmann were there to congratulate me and present me with my buckle in the
purple heart box (awesome by the way).

At the finish I was absolutely spent. I ran a hard race and felt content
with what I had accomplished. Beforehand, I wasn't sure how I would feel
emotionally ... especially because of how much I wanted this finish. It was
nothing earth shattering at the moment ... I didn't want to cry, which I
thought might happen; I was just truly grateful to be blessed enough to
complete the run.

Acknowledgements:
For the excellent race setup and support, I can't thank Randy, Ron, or Tim
enough for doing such a great job. And their volunteers are unbelievable.
It's amazing what some of these people do in a sport that they do not even
participate in.

There are a lot of people I want to thank and to whom I attribute my success
in my first trail 100 finish. This race was two years in the making for me
since I trained for last year, and just continued on without a break after
my DNF:

So thanks,

first and foremost, to God who is always there for me, keeping me on an even
keel.
to my family, my wife Maya, my son Kris, and my daughter Danielle, who have
to deal with my anxiety, time away from home, and my smelly socks.
to Glenn Tachiyama, my trail coach and mentor ... and now good friend. Hell
of a pacer! You'll never find anyone nicer.
to Kirsten for stepping up to the plate to crew me. You're awesome for not
backing down!
to those who got me started and who continue to encourage me through word
and deed, and some damn good running: Cheri Gillis and Lynne Werner, who
also took me through my first ultra (just the 3 of us on a "Yours Truly"
run, January 1999).
to my extended ultra running family who has always given me support and
direction. Janine Duplesis, John Wagner, Lynn Yarnall (everyone's trail
mom), Max Welker, Charlie Crissman, Marlis Dejong,  Ron Nichol, Karen King,
and others.
to my new friend Kat, who helped crew me as well.
to my Oregon connection Scott McQueeny, who regularly puts me up for the
night at his home so I don't have to incur hotel expense.
to the rest of the Oregon connection who run with me around Mary S. Young
State Park, Lake Sacajawea and Champoeg park.

Post Race/What's next: It's been a few days now since the race and I'm
starting to feel human again.  I was unbelievably sore and tired on Monday.
I was somewhat better on Tuesday and walked 4 miles that evening. Wednesday
I was cautious about not running at noontime. I did run a couple of slow
miles with my wife around my daughter's soccer practice field. We also
walked a mile to cool down. Thursday was a slow 4 miles on the road. It felt
good just to get out there and run and enjoy the day. My muscles are sore
but healing quite nicely. My knee is a bit tender and does NOT hurt when I
run or walk. All feels good so I sent in my application and entry for the
first annual Where's Waldo 100K

-- Tony C.