Subject: WS 2000 Report (very long) Date: Thu, 6 Jul 2000 11:41:12 -0400 From: Tom Baker Western States 2000 Report (long report) This was my first 100 miler. A brief history: I ran my first 50 at Mountain Masochist in October 99 with the hope that I could get into Western States for 2000 and to get a feel for longer distances. Well I got both. I was shocked to see that I had made the lottery and would get the chance to run in June. To run Western States has been a dream of mine for close to 20 years. Well all was well until I had knee problems in December that reduced me to 3 weeks without running. Following that I started back at 12 mile weeks with a long(?) run of 4 miles and some physical therapy sessions. By April I had finally gotten to 40 mile weeks but still had some knee pain. So I asked the list for suggestions and received a 50% response that said I should give up on the dream, as WS would ruin my knee. Well there is nothing like someone telling me I CAN'T do some, to really motivate me! I convinced my wife to let me go to the training camp run where I thoroughly got my butt kicked. Day One with dehydration/quads and Day Two with heat. I had an enjoyable Day Three but I now knew what was in store for me. I had the big fear. A "downhill course" doesn't really mean that it's easy. I arrived a week ahead of time to relax and get used to the altitude. I ran the hill up to Robinson Flat from Duncan Creek, which also allowed my wife to drive the course. On Monday I did the climb up Squaw Valley in 1:10 taking it easy. The rest of the week was eating, sleeping, and going to lots of race meetings. I had originally planned to try to stay with a 24 goal. I was also aware that everything would have to go right for me to get the silver buckle. I thought that physically I was capable but mentally questionable. I would run comfortably from the start and see what the day brings. Race Day 5:00 am: Start to Robinson Flat The hype is intense. I can not believe that after all the difficulty and stress with training, time, family, injuries, and doubts that I am at the start of this race. This feels like a dream. I say good luck to some of my friends at the start and we are off. The hike to the top is easily cruised in 1:03. Reality sets in. As I get to the top race volunteers call out my name, which I am not use to hearing in a race. I think it is someone I know. It gives me a charge. I am totally jazzed about running the Granite Chief Wilderness area. During this section I get to talk with a few runners. Among them are Tom Green and Gordy Ainsleigh. Very cool. We share some sarcastic remarks and tell some jokes as we negotiate the rocky trail. This section has rocks of all sizes and a few downed trees. I want to get to Robinson Flat in one piece without spraining an ankle, so I am taking it easy. A few of the trails double as small streams about 1/4 inch deep with bushes and scrub bordering it. As I get out onto the ridge area I am alone for the most part. I run alone for about 50 of the first 62 miles. I am either going faster or slower than other runners. The ridge area has incredible views on both sides of the ridge. This is very big country. On several sections I can see runners out on the ridge about a mile away. The first three aid stations are crowded and busy. I jam as much food in my mouth as I can. Then I quickly move on. It gets warm about mile 15 and I don't feel real well. I am putting as much food as possible in me. As I am walking coming out of Duncan Canyon aid station, I go for the big GU squirt, but it is almost too much. I come very close to losing it all as I spontaneously gag. I manage to control myself but GU is very difficult to handle the rest of the run. I manage my way down to Duncan Creek and carefully pick my way across the rocks without getting my feet wet. I am one of the few that negotiate the whole stream without getting their shoes wet. I consider this a major victory. I do the long climb to Robinson Flat and run on in. This is where I will meet my crew for the first time. They are my wife, Dawn, her sister Valerie, her father Ron, my two daughters, and Dave and Linda Olney. I am treated like an elite runner by my crew as they tend to my feet with new duct tape, Vaseline, and socks. I stay in the NB 803's as they are still dry. They jam a variety of foods in my face and I try to eat. I get them to put ice in my recently purchased WS ice hat. This was the best decision of the whole race. The early aid stations did not have any ice. I am hustled off by my crew and given a coffee milk shake for the road. It's wonderful. I am about 10 minutes past the 24 hour bubble and not feeling really energetic. Throughout the race I was slightly nauseated from about mile 15 to 55 with rare exceptions. I have been drinking. My starting weight of 166 is 168 at Robinson Flat. I can only attribute my general nausea to the heat. It makes me always keep backing away from running faster and makes me walk where I would normally run. Robinson Flat to Foresthill: I make miserable time to Last Chance. It's hot and exposed on fire roads. I drink and drink and drink but I'm still hot. So I back off and realize that 24 hours in not possible today. All I want is for the sun to go down and cooler temps. I spend extra time at Last Chance eating as much as I can. The two canyons and the climb to Devil's Thumb and Michigan Bluff wiped me out in training camp. Descending the first canyon, I can't believe it's the same trail from camp. The deadly leaf cover is gone and I can see the trail. It makes this downhill fairly easy. I hit the bottom and my quads feel fine. But of course I have been going slowly due to the heat. I lay down in the little stream 100 yds. up the trail from the bottom. I do this with my shoes out of the stream. I am cool for the first time in 6 hours. One minute later I am climbing up the trail. Probably should have stayed in the pool longer. I see two guys on my way up that look like death. They stop on the trail and sit down. As I get to the top I catch a group of 6 runners. I say something funny and get a grunt from one guy as a reply. When we get to the top 4 of the 6 head for the cots. I get a great cold shower via two wet sponges from the aid station volunteer. They even have a towel for my glasses. I am still not feeling great but press on into the next canyon. It's not as tough as it was at the camp. But the climb to Michigan Bluff is just as long. One mile from the top I look for the stream across the trail to cool off. When I get there its 6 inches deep. Oh well, at least my shoes are still dry. I made it all the way to the Rucky Chucky without my shoes getting wet! I meet my crew at Michigan Bluff. I'm wasted but it is getting cooler. I will wait until Foresthill to change shoes, so I eat what I can, usually fruit, sandwiches, etc. I drop my belt pack with my crew and run with a hand bottle of ice tea. I will pick up the belt pack at Foresthill. So off I go running where I can. After leaving the road at about 57 miles, I can now run again and I am feeling better. Dawn meets me at Bath Road and gets me to run into Foresthill. She is killing me with a 10 minute mile pace. So I keep telling her to slowdown. The shoe change here is fine and so are my feet. My daughter Erica keeps forcing me to eat potato salad and it's good. They send me on my way with a double Frappacino, calories and caffeine in one. Dave Olney has arranged for Bob Runyan to pace for me. I was worried that there wouldn't be anyone available but Dave took care of me. I really didn't want to run to the end of the race alone after being alone for the vast majority of the run already. We head off on the California Street section running at 9:15pm with the sun setting. California Street to Auburn: I am rejuvenated. The calories from eating and drinking is paying off. I tell Bob that I would like to get back toward running at a 24 hour pace and give him the splits. The next 4 hours are great. We talk and run but pretty much take it easy. The only walking is the uphill sections. I have only one brief bad patch here. The aid stations are lots of fun. Each one has a different theme. Next time I will bring a camera. As we approach the Rucky Chucky we discover a runner without a light. He runs with us to river. I hope he makes it OK. Bob and I plunge into the river, which is not as cold as training camp. It's a little over 4 hours from Foresthill. On the other side I get my drop bag and change clothes and shoes. When I go to change my running shorts, I fall back on my butt. I'm OK, so I pull them up and get ready to go again. This is my biggest mistake of the race. I didn't realize that I had my own little nature center stuck to my butt. This mixed with the Vaseline would create an 80-grit gel between my legs. I ran the rest of the way with my legs a little farther apart than normal. We climb the hill aggressively to Green Gate. Maybe too aggressively. I get to the top once again feeling bad. I try to eat what I can. My crew is there but nothing they can do to make me better. I see several bodies on cots and one runner dissolving before my eyes. I have tried not to look at these "dead" runners since leaving Foresthill. They are scattered around aid stations wrapped in blankets. I don't want to catch what they have. This is the worst I felt all race. But I tell Bob we gotta go. There is bad karma around us. OK. So we walk the next section. Its 5 plus miles in about 2 plus hours. All I remember is that we had to just keep moving. Coming out of Auburn Lakes aid station, I kick one of a thousand rocks that I have been kicking all day. However this is the hardest one. I almost fall and hammer my LED light into a rock. I am sure it's broken. Bob retrieves it for me but it's OK. Count another positive vote for LED lights. I start to fell better as the sun rises and we get to the Highway 49 crossing. It's only seven miles to go and I know I will make it. So Bob and I climb up the hill and run down to No Hands Bridge. Across the bridge and its in the bag. I tell Bob that I just want to walk it in, as I have no pressing time goals to hit. So when one woman runner passes me its not a big deal. A few hundred yards and someone else is coming up behind me. This motivates me to run. I can't have a bunch of people pass me at the end. That wouldn't be right. So I am running and its tough, big deal. I actually catch up to the woman who passed me earlier and I follow her up the road to Robie Point. As we hit the street Bob tells me that there is a group of 5 or 6 runners coming up behind me now. And they're running! Now I'm really distressed. I spend 99 of 100 miles pretty much alone except for Bob, and now everyone and their brother want to be in a crowd crossing the finish line. This was not my vision of my finish. Half way up Robie Point, I am joined by the army of runners. That does it! I take off running. Well after all the miles of nausea my legs are fine. So I run and I run hard past the top. I have Bob check to see if anyone is near me after we turn to go across the bridge. No one is in sight. But I have unleashed the monster. He will not be satisfied with just taking it easy. So I run harder and harder, as we get to the track. At this moment everything comes together. All the work it took to get here, all the sacrifices in training and my personal life, the dream of doing this race, the 50 miles of frustration during the heat induced nausea. But I am here and I am running. It's all that matters. As I sprint to the finish, I am all tears. Finish in 27:35 about 3 minutes in front of the next runner. Thanks to my pacer Bob Runyan, my wife Dawn, my daughters Erica and Whitney, Ron and Valerie Harper, and Dave and Linda Olney for their help. Without them I couldn't have fulfilled this dream. Aftermath: The next day I have overall aches and pains but my legs have zero pain. Now I know how slow I was going. I even go for a little run. One toe is a little numb from kicking far too many rocks, but that's it. I only wish I could have run more. I'll get it right next time.