From: cscott@ccmsmtp.cbcph.navy.mil Date: Tue, 14 Oct 97 06:54:38 PST Subject: Eagle Rpt Clearly, you all need to subscribe to a magazine that stretches your brain -- Atlantic Monthly or Mad Magazine, either one should be improvement over the following... UR didn't have space for this crud; or, as you'll surmise after reading, they wisely chose other contributions... With Eagle now well out of my immediate memory, sure, I'd recommend it to anyone who wants to run 100 miles. If your bent is 100 miles, this one will bend you. And if you like that venue, then join us for Mugu 50-50 next year. Application at www.tmn.com/~asad Happy Trails!! ********************* Pain – Growing and otherwise: The '97 Eagle 100 I'm still growing into this sport. This was only my 4th 100 finish, but for now I'll remain content as an adolescent among adults. Several friends tower above me in their exploits at that distance. Me, I'd just like to hold true to my oath not to run another one. Truly, this was my last… I have FUN on 50's and similar distances that allow me to finish in daylight. But night brings out the demons. Life gets ugly. Ask my pacers and crew. I'd been running well with friends in the Santa Monica Mountains this year. And my ego conveniently forgot last year's promise after AC to cease this idiocy. So, after a couple internet exchanges with Bob Hazell (electromedia marketeer for Eagle), my check was irretrievably flying north. The real therapy central to this sport occurs on the trail anyway, doesn't it? At least as painless as a wrecking ball therapeutically cleans a neighborhood. What was Eagle like? The pluses and fun from the weekend: a shooting star 15 minutes after the start, and another flashing at dawn the next day; flat on my back after mis-vaulting a waist-high, horizontal tree; a silver-lustered coyote fleeting across my path on the logging road at 7 miles; a full-spread faceplant at 10 miles; the numerous chilling and playful stream crossings before rolling into Hedley (16 miles); twice crossing the chest-deep Similkameen (at night, quite the wake up call, actually); mountains densely carpeted with firs; views back to the Cathedrals' lakes and peaks from the climb up Lakeview Mountain; moo'ing with the cattle in the upper pastures; cascading streams gurgling just beyond sight; the dazzling stars slow dancing through the night; the relief of booting; flying downhill at dawn to the finish (another mile and Edith would have been mine!!); sharing miles with Diane Ridgeway and Nick Bassett (more fortunately, not when they were off course in the Cathedrals); Annette Duron and Joe Clapper keeping me alive if not marginally alert; the bed slamming my eyelids down… The demons: joining the pack to miss a major turn in the early miles (really, just a nit since it was that early); only two monster uphills accounting for the course's 14,000+ feet elevation gain; unexpected distances between aid; senses tiring from complicated trail meanderings on the cairns and after the pastures; low blood sugar; declining patience; lead feet; energy-sapping darkness; 13 flat miles from Ashnola to Hedley at night; a pack of runners coming into Hedley (77 miles) as I'm exiting sometime after midnight (whiningly, "I don't WANT to push!!"); that interminable yet miscued climb up the Nickel Plate Mine Road (what we thought should have been mile 90 mysteriously became 95+); a couple practice and one genuine upchuck; pretty much the whole second half of the run… The course is… different! A couple miles up to start, then 13 down to Hedley, frequently criscrossing a turbulent stream; 13 flat miles before climbing for 16; down 18 then repeating the 13 flat to Hedley; followed by arguably 17 before finishing with a couple downhill. It was the 32 to 58 loop in the Cathedrals that throttled me, with only one food station at 41 and three other water stops, those sabotaging miles consuming nearly 8 hours. Ten days after the race, I console myself with the visual magnificence those same miles laid before my eyes, a bit sorry I couldn't hold it more together in the final miles of that section to appreciate its full splendor. Now down seven pounds, I'd lose more before gaining any back. The demons were perched on my shoulder, laughing in my ears. And without daylight hours, I couldn't care less how gorgeous the course is! So, the next miles would be another growth experience. HA! I lurched, shuffled, dug deeper than I'd wanted, blocked out al most all stimulus except that necessary to tug me up the final, insulting mountain… Later, I heard many criticisms of the course and its management, most of it expected carping from too many hours in thin air. But I also know Moe was concerned about excessively coddling "those folks from south of the border." How much the event grows to mirror its American cousins will depend on Moe's intents along those same lines. If you're into challenging a course that race management has yet to tame, get up to B.C. before it evolves into becoming too attentive with ample aid stations and trail markers when you want them to appear. If you need the mental advantage afforded well defined event logistics, stay with Vermont, MMT, WS. This one's still a diamond in the rough. I'm happy with my lump of coal… No more 100's. I'm done. Multi-day trail races is my next growth experience. Need a pacer? Call me.