A Trail Dance

         Race report on the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run
                              June 29-30, 2002
                              by Grant McKeown

It's 4:15 AM and "My Sweet Lord" is playing on the car radio as we drive 
the last mile into Squaw Valley for the start of the Western States 100.  
At the welcome center I'm greeted by Stan Jensen, busily directing 
runners and friends to the pre-race coffee, snacks and waiting areas.  
Stan incidentally had been honored at the pre-race meeting for his 
support of WS and his contributions to the ultra world.  Michael Martin 
and I, from Manhattan, meet a new friend Al Byrnes from Mahwah, New 
Jersey and then sit back, relax with our coffees and await the call to 
the start.  I entered the lottery for the WS 100 on the "buddy" system 
with Michael and luck was with us on our first try.  I missed my high 
school senior prom but now I've made it to the "prom" of 100s.  I show 
the back of my singlet (West Side Runners, New York City) to a cameraman 
filming the proceedings.  He yells out he's originally from Brooklyn and 
gives us the thumbs up.  Soon the call is given and we move just outside 
to the WS start banner.  With my disposable camera I take a couple of 
"before" photos.  As the race begins, we're surrounded by spectators and 
crews and have to push through them.  But there's no real urgency because 
we, like most of the field, will walk the 4.5 miles of dirt road to the 
Escarpment (8,700), our highest elevation.  It is an additional half-mile 
then in past years.  This year the traditional WS course had to be 
adjusted and rerouted because of devastating forest fires in August of 
'01.  So we begin with a relaxed conversational brisk walk.  The only 
distraction is a swarm of voracious mosquitoes we encounter a couple of 
miles up that mercilessly tattoo us.  Approaching the summit we leave the 
mountain shadows and enter the dawns light, 1:20 into the run and 2,500 
feet up from the start.  The Escarpment aid station is ebullient.  Two 
"waiter-like" volunteers even offering a spicy Virgin Mary cocktail.  As 
I crest the Escarpment I glance back and see only 30 or so runners.  But 
it's too early to be worried about the pace.
Just over the summit is the Granite Chief Wilderness.  Now the footing 
is single track on the western-side of the ridge, runners strung out in 
the distance.  Shaded once again from the early morning sun, the path 
is technical enough, affording little good running.  The trail winds 
gently up and down and in between rocks, boulders, scattered trees, 
foliage and numerous tiny mountainside streams with just a few patches 
of snow.  But the spectacular vista of the high country is the real run 
stopper and I take several photos.  After about 5 miles of this 
beautiful roller coaster ride we climb a bit, roll over a crest and 
spill out onto a fire road just a mile uphill from the Lyon Ridge 
(11.5) aid station.  On the road I meet my first trio of red shirted 
safety patrol runners.  Three lovely women who even take my picture for 
me.  It's been 7 miles since the Escarpment and will be 5.5 till the 
next aid.  So Lyon Ridge is an important place to fill water bottles, 
hydrate and get a little food.  I refill my waist bottle, mixing in a 
packet of Clip I'm carrying.  Michael & Al are already out ahead of me 
as I exit the station.
The trail from Lyon Ridge to Red Star Ridge (17) is along the top of the 
ridge and offers more runnable terrain then Granite.  We are at about 
6,800 ft with more terrific views.  It is after 8 AM and there is little 
cover from the ever rising sun.  We move through Cougar Rock (a famous 
photo spot) and Elephants Ear.  It's quite a site with runners spread out 
single file along the ridge.  After about 2 miles, the trail winds into a 
forested area and for a number of minutes I am running alone, no one else 
in sight.  Surprisingly it is so very quiet with no sound of birds or 
anything just my footfalls.  I make a quick pit stop and in the eerie 
silence that surrounds me sense I am out of place and clearly a not so 
welcome sojourner.  After several miles of some beautiful mountain forest 
single-track trail, I finally catch up with Al & Michael at the end of 
some uphill switchbacks.  Soon we hear voices from below and descend 
several switchbacks into the Red Star Ridge (17) aid station.  The time is 
9:15AM, 4:15 into the run and 45 minutes ahead of the cutoff.
I am beginning to feel the effects of the altitude with a slight temple 
and neck ache.  But living in New York City and training at sea level, I 
expected as much.  I get ice, water, a little food, fresh Clip and gel 
from my drop bag and start out on the first of the two major detours from 
the traditional course.  Soda Springs Rd. (7.6), the best fire road we'll 
run on, will take us directly into Robinson Flat (24.6).  A mile down the 
road Michael realizes he's missing his waist bottle but knows he must push 
on.  I share my extra water on the run into Robinson's with him.  We do 
not see Al though.  After the race, Al tells us he began to get nauseous 
at Red Star Ridge, ultimately withdrawing at Michigan Bluff.
On the road I meet up with Bill Redig who I'd met the day before at our 
lodge, the Tamarac Inn.  A two-time finisher, he had strongly suggested a 
slow start and to take it easy on the downhills.  He asks me to take his 
picture, the infamous Desolation Wilderness in the distant background.  
And he returns the favor for me.  On the road I begin to have a slight 
pain on the inside of my right knee.  I wear orthotics and chose to use an 
older pair.  Maybe not the best decision.  But I am well hydrated (plenty 
of pit stops) and adding a Succeed electrolyte tab every hour & half.
Robinson Flat (24.6) is the first medical check and I weigh in (#1) at 
121.  I had weighed in the day before at 115, which seemed low.  The 
headache has worsened so I put some ice in my hat, wet my neck 
handkerchief and receive my first dose of WS aid stations care, with my 
own personal volunteer.  I get ice and water, a little food & Clip and 
socks from my drop bag, stowing the socks in my waist belt.  And Michael 
manages to find a bottle for extra water so he's in good shape as we leave 
the station.
We are running well for about a mile of downhill continuing the detour on 
the new Little Bald Mountain Trail. .  Most of the trail is exposed though 
and I feel the heat of the sun for the first time.  It is a beautiful 
winding path that climbs up to and circumvents the top of Little Bald 
Mountain with a panoramic view of the valley below.  At the summit a 
couple of safety patrol guys point out the burned woods far below.  It 
just so happens we are running on the ridge where the firefighters made 
their final stand last year.  Talk about having your back to a wall!
We roll into Little Bald Mtn. aid station (28.6) at 12 noon, and 7 hours 
gone.  After the station there's a 5-mile downhill, beginning as a fire 
road and eventually becoming a steeper single-track trail into the Deep 
Canyon station.  A mile or so out I meet up with Anastasia Teletsky & take 
her picture.  We'd had first met in the hot Vermont 100 in'99.  She & I 
and only 44% percent finished in that, my first 100.  Michael has 
disappeared ahead of me on the long downhill.  He & I will continue to 
play a running tag of sorts for the next 27 miles or so.  Michael, 
blistering the downhills and me, powering the uphill.
We reach Deep Canyon (33.7) together but I stop to change socks and also 
put a small cushion under my right orthotic.  The high country is history 
now but it's just the beginning of my acquaintance with WS dust.  But I 
will change socks five times, applying Bag Balm each time and end up with 
no blisters.  My knee is still aching but the headache has subsided.  Out 
of Deep Canyon there is several miles of downhill dirt road followed by 
several up hill.  I make up the time I lost changing socks and pass a 
number of runners here.  Some good running though the midday sun and heat 
is very noticeable.  Just outside of Dusty Corners I catch up with 
Michael.  Dusty Corners (38) is a shady oasis.  I first see Lynn Werner, a 
finisher of the Badwater Ultra, and her crew, husband David Olsho and her 
daughters.  Another WS volunteer then attends me and I have someone take 
our picture.  Michael's already gone; his aid station splits consistently 
quicker then mine.  I get a refreshing back and leg water spray and then 
begin the Pucker Point Trail, the last detour from the traditional WS 
course.  The forested single-track trail winds in and out alongside a 
mountain.  My knee is still aching, so I relent and take a couple of 
Motrin.  Just before Last Chance (43.3) I catch up with Michael.
The Steven Creek Striders maintain the Last Chance aid station.  Check-in 
day for WS I'd met up with volunteers Carol, Lynn and Ellen and 
absentmindedly left my driver's license with them, which they returned to 
me later that morning.  They told me they would be at the Last Chance Aid 
station so I guaranteed them a picture.  I take Ellen's picture after she 
weighs me (#2 & 121) and I get a picture with Carol and Lynn too.  My 
personal aide is Bill Jones, who gets my drop bag and a great lemonade.  I 
change socks (#2), get fresh Clip and a little food.  I also meet Bill's 
wife, Emily.  Noticing my New York City singlet, Bill tells me he once 
lived in the city.  Coincidentally, Bill and Emily visited NYC the 
following week and took them on a run of some Central Park trails.
Totally refreshed, I move out of Last Chance.  It's about 3:30 (10:30 
hours in) and I begin the long steep descent into Deadwood Canyon.  
Michael, again, out ahead of me.  I stop several times on the switchback 
turns to let faster runners pass.  My headache has gone but the knee 
continues to ache and I try not to pound the downhill.  I'm a bit surprise 
by the canyon as I pictured it being treeless and open to the sun (Too 
many Westerns in my head, I guess) but it is covered by bushes and small 
trees.  Though often in the middle of a switchback, the other side of the 
canyon, also tree covered, is visible.
I eventually make it to the bottom and the swinging bridge.  In the WS 
trail briefing we were advised to make use of the cool waters of the 
canyon stream or of a trail stream just up the ascending path.  I take 
advantage of the trail stream, cooling my head and hat and begin to power 
walk up the 36 switchbacks to Devil's Thumb (47.8).  Within a few minutes 
I catch up with Michael as our running tag continues.  I move ahead a bit 
and soon meet up with Cheri Gillis, another friend from Vermont '99 and 
take her picture.  The Eastern side of the canyon has larger trees and the 
switchbacks are wider, sharper but the trail is less dusty and shaded from 
the sun.  If there is one commonality about WS trails though, it's the 
dust.  As bad as I'd heard how the climb to Devil's Thumb could be, I feel 
strong and the ascent passes quickly.  A testament, I suppose, to my 
training on the Old Alpine Trail (300 ft & 5 switchbacks) in the New 
Jersey Palisades.  It is a historical footpath, first used by the British 
in 1776 in an unsuccessful attempt to catch Washington's army as it 
retreated to Trenton.  I reach Devil's Thumb (47.8) at 4:48 PM and 12 
hours elapsed.  My weight is ok (#3) and I get water, ice and just before 
I leave, my first turkey sandwich.  I am elated!  Nutrient dense, the 
turkey sandwiches were my mainstays last year at Vermont.  Michael is just 
entering the station as I leave.
The descent out of Devil's Thumb is more gentle then the one out of Last 
Chance.  Beginning with almost a mile of beautiful level forest running.  
At one point though it seems I've missed the trail, seeing safety patrol 
runners on a path to my right.  I back track several hundred yards but 
meet runners who confirm our path.  As the switchbacks begin, runners 
spread out and I catch up with Bill Redig.  He reminds me to watch the 
down hill pounding and I try to heed his advice.  I move ahead though and 
on one switchback do a high step skip as a snake slithers across the trail 
under my feet.  I stop and cautiously take a look, spotting the light 
brown snake in the bushes.  Knowing Bill and a safety patrol are just 
behind, I decide to wait for them.  Meanwhile I squirt some water on the 
snake and it slithers down the hillside.  Bill arrives and by my 
description he figures it was a gopher snake.  Coulda fooled me!  We 
continue on and soon I hear Michael yelling out behind me.  At the bottom 
of the descent is El Dorado Creek and a small aid station.  We refill our 
bottles and begin the climb to Michigan Bluff.  I notice here that my 
fingers have a bluish tone.  Michael believes it's an after effect of the 
altitude.  I am still climbing well and move ahead of Michael.
Arriving at Michigan Bluff (55.7) I'm greeted by our largest audience yet.  
They are knowledgeable of the last 13 miles of canyons we've covered and 
are very audible with their appreciation.  Another weight check (#3) and 
I'm still holding at 121.  And best of all, I'm feeling good.  I've 
withstood the high country and the canyons.  I change socks (#3) and shirt 
and get a flashlight.  Heading out, I meet up with Bill but don't see 
Michael.  The time is 7:18 PM, 14:18 into the run.  And though I have a 
flashlight, I will not need it for the trail to Bath Rd. (60.6) & 
Foresthill (62).  Getting to Foresthill before nightfall had been an 
objective.  I had read that Volcano Canyon, part of the trail before 
Foresthill, wasn't tough but in the dark could be pretty gnarly.  I've had 
plenty of stumbles and trips throughout the day but have my most serious 
slip-up while crossing Volcano Stream.  My left ring finger gets smashed.  
I examine it expecting the worst.  I've jammed it good but it's not 
broken.  I quickly move through the Bath Road aid station and as twilight 
falls step onto the paved road of Foresthill.  A few minutes later I'm 
entering the aid station and they're announcing my name.  A nice touch 
that really makes you feel good.  I'm weighed (#4 and no change) and a 
volunteer named Carol assists me. Carol is splendid.  She retrieves my 
drop bag and I change socks (#4), get my bison flashlight and headlamp.  
She also refills my bottles; mixing fresh Clip in one, gets me a coke and 
a couple of turkey sandwiches.  I have another volunteer takes a funny 
photo of her feeding me one too.  Carol then urges me to "Get going!"  I 
give her a kiss and she gives me one back.  Now that's what I call real 
aid!  Who needs a real prom!  It is 9:15 PM; 16:15 in and I feel great as 
make my way again onto the streets of Foresthill.  Several hundred yards 
later I take a swig of my new water and discover a truly bad garden hose 
taste.  Luckily though I spot a crew who has extra water and they refill 
both my bottles.  A quarter mile later I leave the residential Foresthill, 
drop immediately into some dense woods and begin the long single path 
trail known as the California Loop.
The scoop on the loop was that it was runnable but could seem endless, 
stretching for 16 miles to the Rucky Chucky River crossing.  Most runners 
I encounter seem to have pacers.  After passing a few pairs, I catch up 
with Bill & his pacer.  They are moving well and we soon reach the first 
aid station Dardanelles (65.7).  I get a nice 30-second shoulder massage 
from a blonde angel, a real California girl.  A little ways out of the aid 
station I move ahead of Bill and continue to make good time passing a 
number of runners and their pacers.  The constant response I hear from 
them is "Don't you have a pacer?"  Michael, who did not have a pacer 
either, told me he received the same query.  But I'd faired well without 
one in my first 2 hundreds.  I guess I am a purist too and a bit selfish 
as I love the singular experience of the nighttime.  It's not until after 
the race that I realized their real concern.  Cougars have been reported 
on the California Loop.  They hunt at dusk.  And they are especially 
attracted to lone running prey.  But I am never really out of sight of 
runner's lights though.  No sooner do I pass runners then see the lights 
of another twosome.  The running is good, just two hills and I make good 
time.  After Ford's Bar (73), there is some good gentle downhill running 
along the river.  I can't see the river but can sense the open area to my 
left.  Though the last 2 miles into Rucky Chucky (78) is a rutty, rough 
fire road and I feel some weariness for the first time.
So at 1:44 AM (21:45), I make it to the river crossing).  On the near 
side, I'm weighed (#5 & no change) and get a bit of food.  And I retell a 
story I'd been telling aid folks all day.  The tale is: I tell them I'm 
from NYC, read the WS training manual and thought the course would be a 
piece of cake.  Until I realized I'd misread a word.  The manual 
recommended "altitude" training.  But being a city guy, I'd misread it as 
"attitude".  The story always gets a hearty laugh.  I make my way, 
gingerly down to the water where half dozen volunteers are placed out 
along the guide cable that stretches the 40-yard or so crossing.  The 
water is waist/chest high and so cold but so refreshing.  Coming out the 
other side I feel like I've had a whole body shot of caffeine.  Just on 
the riverbank is Bill Redig's fiancée.  I tell her he's just behind me and 
I take her picture and she mine.
On this side is another food station and 4 rows of about 12 chairs for 
runners to change socks and/or shoes.  And at least 15 volunteers 
assisting the runners.  I ask when the next 'feature' starts and get 
seated immediately.  A volunteer gets my drop bag and I proceed to changes 
socks (#5) and into a dry pair of Vitesse.  I switch to a fresh headlamp 
and bison light too.  And as I get some food, I remember I'd forgot to pay 
my toll at Michigan Bluff.  You see, Last Chance to Michigan Bluff was 
once a toll trail, maintained by Duncan & Jessie Ferguson who owned a 
hotel at Deadwood called the Half-Way House.  And as a tribute, I wanted 
to give the folks at Michigan Bluff a New York State commemorative quarter 
I was carrying in my waist belt.  So I tell the story to a volunteer, give 
her the quarter and take her picture.  Rucky Chucky is one hell-of a trail 
party!  I yell thanks to all and head up the steep fire road, to Green 
Gate.  I was very surprised how much fire road there was at WS.  I think 
there had to be at least 20 miles.
I'm still moving well uphill as I get to Green Gate (80), which is busy 
with a lot of crews.  I grab a quick bite and drink and begin running on a 
single-track trail that stretches all the way to Highway 49.  For a mile 
or so there are wild, strange flower plants chest high, leaning over the 
trail giving the night a "wonderland" feeling and I constantly have to 
push them away.  I pass some more runners and pacers too but this section 
is a bit of a blur with images of endless twisting trials, narrow footing 
and dust.  And I find it takes just a couple of runners to kick up quite a 
bit of dust, my lights illuminating the rising clouds.  A note to first 
timers at WS: your white shirts will be beige by the end of the run.
I reach Auburn Lake Trails (85.5) at 4:34 AM, 23:34 and for the first time 
I feel a little nausea.  I get my bottles refilled and then some cola, 
soda crackers and a little chicken broth.  The crackers and wonderfully 
salty broth relieve the nausea.  A little ways out of the station though I 
take a swig of the water and get another bad taste.  But I'm not alarmed, 
feeling very hydrated and confident about making it to Brown's Bar (90) in 
good shape.  But around 87 miles I have a problem with my waist belt and 
dislodge the air lock.  On hindsight, I see how simple a thing it would 
have been to fix but for apparent reasons my weariness at the time made it 
tough to focus.  So I take the belt/bottle with 2 pouches with one arm and 
continue on towards Brown's Bar.  It's a bit clumsy as I am also carrying 
my fast draw bottle and a flashlight.  The effort exhausts my shoulder 
muscles, forcing me to walk every hundred yards.  Finally I get to the aid 
station just as first light begins.  The aid station manager is great and 
helps me pin the belt together.  I put it on, get some fresh water and 
quickly move on.  I'm so focused on moving down the trail, I forget to 
enjoy the music.  I also forget to partake of the liquid spirits of this 
"hasher" aid station, which Michael said were particularly enjoyable.  I 
soon discover though the Brown's Bar water is as bad as the Auburn water.  
Now I just want to get to Highway 49 (93.9).  Around 92 miles I pass a 
runner and then a couple runners with pacers pass me.  The foursome is 
determined to maintain a good pace so I latch onto them as we begin a 
short climb.  The trail is very rutted and rough though and I curse it 
aloud.  Fortunately no runner heard me and, hopefully, neither did the 
Great Trail Animal.  I crest the hill, descend and cross Highway 49 into 
the aid station.
There is a nice crowd, music and Lynn Yarnall greets me.  She ushers me to 
the weight scales (#6 & no change) and retrieves my drop bag.  Lynn is a 
12-time finisher of WS (7 silver buckles & even #2 woman one year).  For 
'92 WS eliminated the automatic entry for those with 10 finishes and she 
was unable to get in on the lottery.  But here she was anyway, as an early 
safety patrol runner the day before and now assisting at Highway 49.  
Lynn's pre-race notes to me regarding WS were detailed and invaluable too.  
She asks about Michael and I tell her I haven't seen him since the climb 
to Michigan.  It is a few minutes after 7 AM and I'm a little over 26 
hours.  I ask Lynn how long will it take to get to Placer High School.  
She says about 2 hours.  I stow my belt and lights in my drop bag, keep my 
fast draw bottle and drop in behind my 4 runner friends as they exit the 
station.
As I climb out of the station the four of them are having a lively 
exchange and continue to keep a good pace.  So I try to focus on them 
rather then how beat-up I feel.  After about a mile of gradual climb we 
transverse a beautiful golden straw field and are greeted in the middle by 
three horse and riders.  My friends gradually disappear down the trail 
ahead of me.  They are not walking at all but I must every couple hundred 
yards.  Just before No Hands (96.9) I have a bit a scare.  I see a very 
high bridge out ahead of me.  But I know that we descend to the No Hands 
Bridge.  At least I try to reassure myself.  A half-mile later I breathe 
easier as I see No Hands below me.  Some nice music is playing at the aid 
station.  I get a quick cool drink, a picture on the shaded bridge and 
push on.
The climb up to Robie Point is memorable.  The morning sun has been baking 
this small canyon for several hours and the only breeze is my breath.  So 
I use the "run-to-the-shade-if-you-can-find-it-and-then-walk" method.  
Finally after a number of switchbacks the trail punches through to 
pavement and the small hill up to Robie Point.  A hand written sign at 
this last aid station sign reads "1.1 to go".  No stopping now but I get a 
strange feeling as I run the residential streets of Auburn.  Like I'm 
finishing a road 10k or half marathon, not a 100 miler.  Remove the 
runners and you've got just a sleepy, early Sunday morning small town 
vista.  I ask a pacer how far to the track.  He says: "Up the hill and a 
left."  I pick up my pace, summit the last hill and just before the Placer 
High School track, pass several runners.  We applaud each other, one 
runner accompanied by several friends.  Later I witness many runners 
escorted onto the stadium track by their pacers, crew and family.  A WS 
tradition, I think and a great way to end a 100, too.
Now I'm on the Placer High School tartan track and 300 yards from the 
finish.  Again, it's a strange feeling.  The track is so foreign from the 
mountains and canyons and the many miles of single track that I have 
traversed the last 27:49:18.  But it's done.  The finish line photographer 
snaps my picture, a congratulatory handshake and a finishers' medal is 
placed around my neck.  I'm immediately sat down and my blood pressure and 
heart rate are taken and noted as a last good assurance of Western States 
care.  I first get a soda and sit down in the shade of the massage tent.  
No single part of my body hurts too much.  I just feel like I've been a 
punching bag for 100 rounds with Ali.  In addition the sun is really 
beating down on the track's artificial infield and little shade is 
available.  I check to see if Michael has made it to Highway 49 but 
there's no posting.  I walk to the end zone, pick up my drop bag and 
return to the massage tent.  I get my legs and feet sprayed down and then 
get a good light massage.  Talk about a great feeling!  I see Bill Redig 
in the massage tent and we congratulate each other.  Unknown to me then 
Bill was going for the Slam.  As I write this I'm happy to report he is 
officially a Slammer '02.  I see Lynn Yarnall and get more congratulations 
and a picture with her.  I also see Pete, Cheri Gillis husband, and talk a 
bit with Ron Nichol (28:43).  I am now a bit worried, as there is no 
posting of Michael.  Soon I see Cheri finish (29:22) and Anastasia (29:27) 
and then Michael.  I take his picture and give him a high five as he 
motors toward the finish in 29:30.  He is pretty beat up too, especially 
his feet, which really slowed him down from Rucky.  He gets his feet taken 
care of, and so do I.  Denise assisting John Vonhof (Fixing Your Feet) 
says my feet are the best looking ones she's seen all day.  We then slowly 
walk over to the school, get a shower and a while later a little food at 
the post meal gathering.  I even have a short conversation with Gordy 
Ainsley's mom and meet him too.  I tell her that she is really the one 
responsible for the Western States 100.
The awards ceremony gives each finisher a moment in the spotlight.  And is 
highlighted by a Scott Jurek ringer in a red jacket, another top runner 
initially sent up by Scott himself to accept the first place trophy.  It 
was great to see such a world-class competitor with a good sense of the 
moment.  The phenomenal Ann Trason is the first woman again but 
unfortunately absent due to an emergency with her pet dog.
Since Michael and I were lodged at Tahoe City near the start, it was 
necessary for us to take the WS shuttle service back to Squaw Valley and 
our car.  Several hours later as we ride the last stretch of road into the 
resort, we receive an unexpected greeting/farewell from a true ruler of 
the trail.  There standing stone still by the side of the access road is a 
lone wolf, fearless of us and seemingly tolerant of civilization.  At 
least for right now.
POSTCSRIPT
I would like to thank my NYC "crew".  The pros that got me to the starting 
line, in the best shape of my life and continually help me maintain a 
healthy perspective.
Lori Weisenfeld, podiatrist; Jan Teitlebaum, chiropractor; Greg 
Hullstrung, physical therapist, Bruce Mandlebaum, acupuncturist and 
massage therapist and Paula Marchetta, rheumatologist.  Nobody does these 
things alone!
Tips for WS First Timers
Down hill train on switchbacks if possible.  You've got a lot at WS.
And don't forget to do some strong uphill training.  It will pay off in 
the canyons.
Train on as much rough, variable single-track trail as possible.
I found trail shoes (Montrail Vitesse) to be totally sufficient.
There is a lot of dust so change socks.  (I swear by Smartwool socks and 
Bag Balm.)
Have a dry 2nd pair of shoes on Rucky Chucky far side.
The best advice: Eat, drink and take electrolytes from the get go and 
don't stop!