Subject: Re: Very looooong Western States personal report Date: Wed, 7 Jul 1999 19:13:39 EDT From: Thewashman@aol.com This run is the fifth 100 mile run in a series of ten that I will be running in 1999. I am calling my running odyssey the DecaCent (10 one hundred milers). The Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run is the oldest 100 miler in the United States. It was started 26 years ago when Gordy Ainsleigh's horse came up lame for the Tevis Cup 100 Mile Endurance Ride. Since he had done quite a bit of running while training his horse, it was suggested that he run the race without his mount. Gordy took up the challenge and finished the 100 miles in 23:42 and, with that, the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run had its beginnings. The race now has twice as many applicants as it has slots for runners and a lottery system has been employed in order to enter the race. If you apply two years in a row and do not get selected in the lottery, you automatically get selected when entering on your third straight try, providing you meet the qualifying standards. Needless to say, it is a very popular race and the history of the sport dictates that you do the race at least once in your lifetime. If you are faint of heart, you may not want to read my report of this race. I had pushed too hard at Old Dominion three weeks earlier and mountain biked and hike more than I should have in the days prior to the race. I did not go to the starting line as well-rested as I know I should have. After mountain biking in the Tahoe area on Sunday and Monday for over four hours each day, my wife Paula and I decided on Tuesday to climb Mount Tallac, a climb of over 8000 feet in about 5-6 miles. I could use some more altitude work and, since we were just hiking, I didn't think it would effect my race any. Whether it was the biking and hiking too near the race start or the exertion put in at Old Dominion, I did not start the race feeling all that comfortable. The race starts at 5:00AM beneath the Olympic rings at the base of Squaw Valley ski area. The first 4.7 miles are up a road to the top of Emigrant Pass at 8700 feet. Last year, I felt fine while making this climb and was talking and enjoying myself. This year, I trudged up the hill rather quietly not feeling too relaxed. At the summit, there were only 20 or 30 people behind me. I wasn't worried since I had felt tired at the beginning of other races and soon was able to fall into a good pace. I decided to start the race in my Montrail Vitesse shoes even though they have very poor traction on snow and ice. I figured that, since there was less than half as much snow as last year and because the existing snow was melting rapidly, the water would be more of a problem than the snow and ice. This did prove to be the case although I paid a price when running on the snow including one bad fall just before Lyon Ridge. Just like last year, the supplies to Lyon Ridge and Red Start Ridge had to be flown in by helicopter. That, however, did not dampen the enthusiasm of the aid station staff. One thing that is a certainty is that you will be pampered by the aid station personnel. You may find comparable aid stations at other races; however, every aid station at WS will treat you like royalty. The only way you can blame the aid stations for a bad race is if you spend too much time getting pampered. And they even know when to kick your butt out of the station if you linger too long. The decision to use the Montrails proved correct because there was quite a bit of water to plow through between Emigrant Pass and Robinson Flat. Up on the ridges, we were in and out of the snow but soon we started our descent into Duncan Canyon. At this point, I knew I was not making the kind of progress that I had planned. I also knew that we had one more tough climb to Robinson Flat before we got to some easy dirt road running. I figured that I might get some time back once I hit the roads but I had better not lose too much time getting up to Robinson. We didn't get to run to Robinson last year due to the snow and I really didn't remember the trail from the last time I ran this section, in 1988. I did know that there was at least one big climb and, as I was beginning to have great difficulty on the steeper climbs, I only hoped that I could get there before the cutoff. One saving grace was that the earlier check points had their absolute cutoff times extended to help make up for the snow running. These extensions were gradually lessened until you reached Foresthill and were back on the regular cutoff schedule. I was to become quite grateful for the extensions. As we trudged from Duncan Canyon to Robinson Flat there were a few stream crossings through which I waded rather than even looking for a dry crossing. Water in one of the stream crossings came above my knees. I was actually refreshed momentarily by the cold water. Although the Montrails usually dry quite quickly, the constant wading in streams on the climb to Robinson kept my feet rather moist. I finally found the aid station after beginning to think that it didn't really exist. I checked into the station at 1:37PM. The old cutoff was 1:45. Thanks to the extension, though, I had until 2:45. I changed into my Asics 2040s for the next section because I knew there would be quite a bit of dirt road running, with much of it downhill. I also knew that, for the most part, I wouldn't have to worry about getting my feet wet until the river crossing, and even that would be by boat again this year. I had only eaten some pretzels, candy and fruit to this point and tried to get down a brownie and a jelly sandwich. I was unable to get much of either down though. This bothered me because ever since I started using the electrolytes capsules, I had not had any problems with eating. I'm sure it was due to stress since my legs felt like they didn't have any strength at all and yet I was just barely making the cutoff times. Paula met me here and, although I was feeling a bit down, she encouraged me to keep going and give it all I had. She said she knew I could do it. I needed to make up time but wasn't sure I could get any more out of my legs than I was already getting. I took off out of the aid station along the jeep road that lead toward the Deep Canyon aid station. There were small patches of snow on the road and I was careful to keep my feet dry. As soon as the road started downhill toward Deep Canyon, the snow stopped and the heat rose. I knew that it could have been hotter but, as far as I was concerned, it was quite hot. Just before I arrived at Deep Canyon, I was passed by Rob Apple and Wes Fenton. They were both attempting the Grand Slam but, unfortunately, Rob was unable to get to the finish. Since he runs an ultra almost every week anyhow, I am sure he will be back for another try. I grabbed some fruit at Deep Canyon, filled my water bottles and headed down the road. I tried to run everything that was downhill and power walk everything else. Since none of the uphill climbs from here to the climb to Devil's Thumb were steep, I was able to make some time back. I also knew that I would need all the extra time I could get because of the climbs to Devil's Thumb and Michigan Bluff. During this road section, I was privileged to meet Ron McBee; however, we were both on a mission and were unable to do much conversing. I pulled into Dusty Corners and, as I was having my water bottles filled, they sprayed my legs with cool water. It sure felt good and helped me to do some running during the next section. The section from Dusty Corners to the start of the climb to Devil's Thumb is mostly downhill and very runable, although very dusty. The aid station workers at Last Chance seemed like they had to deal with a lot of bugs but, since I was constantly moving, I hardly noticed a single bug. The aid stations from Robinson Flat to the end had my favorite ultra food, orange jelly slices. I would grab three of them at each aid station and eat them as I lumbered along the road to the next station. The candy and some fruit was all I was able to eat but it was enough for the time being. I finally reached what I feel is the most difficult climb in the race, the climb to Devil's Thumb. I vowed, since I didn't have any time to waste, that I would walk all the way up the climb without stopping. I needed to keep whatever momentum I had to get to the top without losing any more time. I trudged along with my head bent down and sweat pouring off of me but I made it to the top in better shape than I had on my previous two tries. In fact, I only stopped long enough to fill my bottles, grab some strawberries and the orange jelly slices. However, I had finally reached saturation on the jelly slices. I managed to just barely get the last one down and nearly gagged. I was still determined and moving but time was getting way too tight. I ran down to El Dorado Creek as quickly as I could but struggled up the climb to Michigan Bluff. How was I going to stay ahead of the cutoff times when I had so little energy, especially on the climbs. Paula met me at the top of the climb and got my things ready for me after I got weighed. I was at the same weight as I started but I knew that it would soon start dropping. All I could get down at this point was Coke or water. I was still taking one electrolyte capsule every hour but swallowing them was also getting difficult. I changed my shirt and hat and grabbed my double-D Maglight and got out of there as fast as I could. The normal cutoff time at Michigan Bluff is 9:30 and the extension made it 9:45. I checked out at 9:35 with a few others. Last year I checked out around 9:15 and made it to the finish at 29:55 and I pushed as hard as I could. I had to make up 20 more minutes this year and my legs were dead. Confidence was not high. I stopped at the aid station just before Volcano Canyon and had a cup of hot chocolate. This usually was the elixir that made my day; however, this time it only helped slightly and did not go down easily. I was passed by several runners as I made my way through Volcano Canyon and was quite depressed as I came out onto Bath Road. I was glad that Paula was there to meet me and walk me to Foresthill. I was feeling very low and, since I knew I didn't have anything left in my legs, was sure that I was not going to stay ahead of the cutoffs. I figured that I shouldn't bother to start the California Street loop since I would surely be pulled at the first check point. But Paula wouldn't have any of this bull shit. I would make the cutoff and I would find whatever it was I found last year during the California Street section and I would make it to the finish in time. We had spent too much money, time and sacrifice to quit now. Deep inside, I knew this but it was reassuring to have Paula's confidence when I didn't have my usual share. I have never been a negative person but, knowing how I was feeling strength-wise, I was as low as I get. I checked into Foresthill with 8 minutes to go until the cutoff and checked out with only 4 minutes to spare. And that was from the absolute cutoff. I was an hour and eleven minutes behind the 30 hour time. Thanks to Paula's confidence and her steel-toed crew shoes, I got out of town and dove into the California Street section. I figured that, as long as I am going to keep going, I might as well try to make Up the time. I didn't know how I was going to do it. I only knew that I was going to give it a try. Last year, I made up considerable time from here to the river crossing; however, this year I had to keep making up time even after crossing the river. And all this after having to push hard all the way from Robinson Flat just to have the chance to do this section. It was now or never. If I didn't find something, I would give up the Grand Slam, the Last Great Race and the ten 100 milers. I could live with nine 100s instead of ten but the Grand Slam and the Last Great Race are probably a one-time thing and I couldn't live with myself if I, at least, didn't give it all I had. As I entered the California Street loop, I began to jog. I eventually increased the jog to what seemed like a pretty good run. I was passing runners with increasing regularity. I was pushing hard up every uphill except the steeper ones which I merely trudged up without stopping. I had a pretty good power walk, even better than last year. If it was flat or downhill, I was running as best as I could. I only stopped at the aid stations to fill my water bottles, grab a Coke and head out. I was catching people who were doing pretty much the same thing I was. I would usually pass them in the aid stations and they would pass me on the course. I pushed hard all the way to the river crossing. I weighed in only 2 pounds from my starting weight and was able to get on a boat that was ready to leave and didn't have to wait. On the other side I grabbed my drop bag but decided not to stop and change anything. I had stones in my shoes but decided that I didn't even have time to stop and take them out. Paula was supposed to come down to the river crossing this year but, apparently, she decided not to come down. Although, as I was walking up the hill to Green Gate, I ran into her coming down the road. She calculated that I wouldn't be there until several minutes later and had taken a nap. I certainly understood, seeing as how late I went through Foresthill and how badly I felt. Her encouragement in getting me the rest of the way up the hill was a great help and, as I checked into Green Gate, the timekeeper told me that I was 15 minutes ahead of the 30 hour time. This was quite a boost but I knew that fifteen minutes would evaporate quickly on the climb to Highway 49 and, especially, on the climb to Robie Point. I could barely trudge up any steep climbs; although, I was moving quite well on everything else. I left my big flashlight with Paula and left Green Gate using my Mini-Mag light which I had carried with me all day in my fanny pack. About 5 minutes after leaving the station, the bulb burned out. Since greyness was beginning to cover the area, I was able to continue to run. My pace was slow enough that I could see well enough to run. I have pretty good night vision but it would now be tested. The good thing is that it was close enough to daybreak that I didn't have to run this way for long. With all the running and power walking I was doing, I was still getting passed from time to time. We were all out there pushing the cutoffs and hanging on by hope and desire. We were not going to be denied. As I weighed in at the Auburn Lakes Trail aid station, I was told that I had lost five pounds and should eat and drink. I thanked them and headed out. I would have loved to stop and eat and drink but I was on a mission. There was no time for such things. I pushed hard along the river and finally reached the climb to Highway 49. I stumbled up the climb which seemed to take forever and entered the aid station with Suzanne McDonald. We both just passed right through barely stopping except to fill our bottles. It was 9:00AM and we had 6.7 miles to go including the steep hot climb to Robie Point. I told Suzanne that we only had one more climb but had to apologize to her. I had forgotten that there was a pretty steep climb from the highway to the Pointed Rocks aid station. From there, I tried to run everything. I knew that I would struggle on the climb to Robie Point and that, after No-Hands Bridge, I would have to go through the oven. The hot dry sand from No-Hands Bridge to the climb to Robie Point is always so hot for those of us who finish on the second day that it is like running through a sauna and today was no different. I trudged along with time slipping away until I finally reached the climb. I was stooped over with sweat pouring from my head, determined to get to the top. At the top, I could hear Paula yelling at me to keep moving. It was all I could do to get to the top but then, as I knew but was not ready to face, there is still more uphill to go before the finish. And this uphill is just as steep as the climb to Robie Point. The only difference is that this is paved. As we were climbing up the paved road, a nice buck mule deer trotted out of the woods and crossed our paths. I'm not sure I would have believed it if Paula hadn't also seen it. It was the only deer I had seen throughout the entire run. It seemed to take an eternity but we finally made it to the turn and it was all downhill to the track. Even with the downhill, I was not moving too quickly. I managed to finally make it onto the track and trudged at light speed around it to the finish. Paula had run across to get my picture as I crossed the finish line in 29:56:58, the last official finisher. Although I have never won anything, I believe this is the first time I was ever last at anything. And, to tell you the truth, I was ecstatic. I nearly fell into the arms of Norm and Helen Klein and thanked them for another great Western States. I wished them well in the future and thanked them again for what they have done for this race. I was then weighed and had lost 6 of my 180 pounds of starting weight and then gave a blood sample to help with some study. I was approached by a reporter from the Sacramento Bee and asked how I felt, being the last finisher. All I could tell him was that this was the guttiest thing I have ever done in my life. Without Paula's confidence and inspiration, I am sure I would not have finished the race. I gave Paula my medal and, when I got my buckle, gave that to her also. After all, she is responsible for me still being on this quest. Thanks to her, I am halfway through this journey and feeling better about it every day. There is no way our team is going to fail now. All seven of us who are attempting the Last Great Race were successful and so it's on to Vermont. Vermont is my home course and I need the confidence that I have in that course to get me to the next tough challenge, Leadville. Five down and five to go. Later, Jeff Washburn