Arielle and I flew out 5 days before the Western States 100 Endurance Run. It was much needed downtime and a mental taper so that I could lower my mental fatigue before the race. While I had cut back the physical stress, due to an increase in work stress, I still felt very tired mentally at the start of the week and knew, from previous experience from last year’s Sugarloaf Marathon, that it was a bad mental state to go into the race with and I need to have some drastic rest to bring the mental stress levels down.
 |
| Catching on some easy work in the relaxing atmosphere of our Vacasa. |
 |
| Lovely view |
 |
| Pinecones almost as big as Arielle's head! |
Arielle and I had some really easy, laidback days, resting up, did some easy hiking, decompressing and waiting for the rest of my crew to fly in on Thursday to experience the race week festivities. I have to talk about my crew make-up a little bit as it is rather unique. While they all knew Arielle and I, most of them had not met each other before Thursday, June 27th, and we all live in separate states. Steph was flying in from Colorado and knew only Arielle and I and had not met Reed and Beau before. Steph and I became good friends when she worked at Cook and we did a marathon and some trail running together but she had moved away before Reed and Beau became more active in BARA. Reed was flying in from Louisiana, did not know Steph and knew a bit about Beau from trail running with BARA. Beau was flying in from Indiana (where everyone had some form of connection with me at one point or another), did not know Steph and knew Reed a bit from trail running with BARA. All but Reed had not done a hundo before but most of them had crewed for one. All said and done, an interesting motley crew but they all had a few things in common, which gave me faith that everything will work out - positivity, kindness, and love for the trails, the sport and the ultrarunning community.
My team and I with one of the more interesting pieces of decor at our AirBNB post-race. (From left to right: Arielle, Chris, Beau, Welcoming Cowboy statue, Reed and Steph)
My crew and pacer team.
Previewing the first couple of miles of the hike up to the Escarpment.
Me and Steph with Gordy!! Love this picture and love the man.
Obligatory team photo under the starting arch.
Chatting up with Scott Jurek! Scott was also pacing Kyle Robidoux, a visually-impaired runner from MA for the first ever run at WSER100 by a visually-impaired runner.
With all the hype around the race and race week events, it is easy to get psyched up and psyched out about one of the biggest ultrarunning events of the year. After all said and done, though, Western States is really just another hundred-miler. Just another hundo. The same process – plan the race, and race the plan. Patience and calm.
Do i have enough nutrition? Mainly Tailwind, nut butters and UGo/EAT bars 😛
Me giving the almost-2-hour long crew briefing.
Race morning. I ate some yogurt, a Ugo bar and some nut butter for breakfast, prepped up and we drove over to Squaw Valley and the start line. We met up with Amy Rusiecki, who is the quintessential Beast Coaster and RD extraordinaire. Reed hung around with me at the start, while the rest hiked up a mile or so towards the escarpment to spectate the start.
Race morning!
Reed and I at the start line, 10mins before the start.
Looks to be a lovely morning!
Start (mile 0) to Robinson Flat (mile 30.3)
After running a few hundred meters, I quickly settled into a fast hike, with a few shuffle breaks in-between. The main goal was to keep the heart rate low and slow, while hiking well. The hike up to the Escarpment was uneventful, other than seeing my crew and Amy on the way up. There was a party up at the top of the Escarpment with music blasting and quite a few people up top cheering and taking pictures. I turned around at the top of the Escarpment to take in the gorgeous sunrise over Lake Tahoe and the foggy mist around Squaw Valley. Contrasting that, there was Black-Eyed Peas blasting in the background, pumping that adrenaline. Cresting over the high point, we descended into the Granite Chief Wilderness. As the music faded quickly, so did the adrenaline and I was left with feelings of anticipation and caution as a long day lay ahead and we were starting our descent through the snowy high country.
Typical ultra start with lots of hiking.
Gorgeous morning view from mid-way up to the escarpment.
It was tricky running through the snow-packed high country. Lots of stabilizer muscle activity was going on and I was hoping I wasn’t burning through too much muscle energy this early in the race. I doubled my lifetime fall rate from 5 to 10 (finally hitting double-digits) within the first 16 miles of the race, leading up to Red Star Ridge. There were small steep slopes of hard-packed snow and my Lone Peaks were not gripping well. A painful highlight was when I was butt-sliding down a particularly long slope. At the bottom of the slope was a rather large bush with sturdy sticks, which I promptly crashed into, with a rather thick stick finding its way into my nether/buttly-holey regions. Being of a relatively young age, I have never undergone a prostate exam but I imagine this was what it would feel like if the doctor was a sadist.
Hiking up past Cougar Rock near Lyon Ridge. (Photo by Facchino Photography)
Wish I knew to look behind me at the gorgeous view from Cougar Rock. (Photo by Facchino Photography)
I passed through Lyon Ridge (mile 10.3) and Red Star Ridge (mile 15.8), right on 27-hour pace (7:27am and 8:42am respectively), trying to stay patient and calm with measured effort. Feeling the effort of the snow in the high country, I put on my music to try and get into a rhythm of flow and chill. Even though I refilled my bladder at Red Star Ridge with Tailwind, I think the coolness of the high country was deceiving with the heat of the day was sneaking up on me and I was going much faster, now that I had music in. All that in combination came back to hit me, when a few miles later, my left adductors started ramping/seizing pretty badly. Oh god, if my quads/legs are already shot only mile 17, my race is so f***ed. Keeping calm, I managed to rationalize that, as I could still descend well, it was not my quads but rather my adductors that were effected. Drawing on my previous similar experience at last year’s Boston Marathon, I realized that this was due to a lack of hydration and possibly electrolytes. Focusing so much on not losing traction on the snow, I had probably fell behind on drinking. I was definitely not drinking enough for the heat exposure in the high country. I also knew I was not taking in enough liquids when I realized I was only peeing more than every 3-hours or so. I was also starting to feel a little nauseous from the heat, which probably contributed to slowing down on drinking. All these compounding factors led me to start dry-heaving a couple of times on the way to Duncan Canyon aid station.
Me getting wet and dousing myself in Duncan Canyon Creek. (Photo by Facchino Photography)
I don't think I remember the photographer even being there. 😝(Photo by Facchino Photography)
At 10.10am into Duncan Canyon (mile 24.4), I was starting to inch closer to 25-hour pace (dare I hope?), so I had probably pushed the pace quite a bit between Red Star and Duncan Canyon. Even if it was only 10am, leaving from Duncan Canyon aid station, I had a big sponge bath with both arm sleeves packed with ice, my hydration bladder filled up with Clif electrolyte drink (as that seemed to be the only thing I could stomach right now) and a handheld filled with ice and water. I started taking salt tabs every half hour and basically drained my entire 1.5L hydration bladder between Duncan Canyon and Robinson Flat, trying to catch up on liquids and salt. Taking any opportunity to douse myself with cool water, I came into Robinson Flat (mile 30.3) around 11:45am, feeling a lot better and with my adductor cramps slowly inching their way out but still dry heaving a couple of times..
View around high country.
Stopping by my crew setup, I collapsed into a chair, changed my socks and shoes (to Hoka Speedgoats) and basically told my crew to throw out most of my hydration plan as I was planning to just use aid station electrolyte drink. It tasted very watered down but it seemed to be the only thing I could stomach right now, other than ginger ale. With my sunhat filled with an ice pouch, along with my ice bandanna, 2 soft flasks of ginger ale, a handheld frozen with water, I left Robinson Flat, still cramping and nauseous but with a bag of chips in hand and with better spirits. However, I did forget to ask them to stock me up on salt tabs as I was running low from consuming quite a few of them over the last few hours...
Me all changed up and ready to leave Robinson Flat.
Robinson Flat (mile 30.3) to Foresthill (mile 62)
There is about a mile of uphill upon leaving Robinson Flat, which I was very happy to just hike and chow down my bag of chips as I knew I was low on salt. After making a right turn onto old fire roads and single-track, I was happy to just relax, get into cruise control mode and let the downhill take me into Miller’s Defeat and Dusty Corners. After figuring out that my quads were still okay, I was willing to be a bit more purposeful (not too exuberant, though, fine line there) on the downhills through Miller’s Defeat (mile 34.4 – 12:35pm) and came into Dusty Corners aid station (mile 38) right on 24-hr pace (at 1.11pm).
With things turning around slowly after Robinson Flat, I quickly filled up with ice, water and electrolyte drink at Dusty Corners and went on my way. I cruised over to Last Chance (mile 43.3), hit it right on 24-hour pace, and stocked up there on fluids and ice. I remember feeling a little hungry, which was a good sign, so I had a bit of a UGo bar. On my way out, Gordy Ainsleigh was there at the exit, seeing runners off. I stopped to shake his hand, asked him what he was up to and he told me, “Just here to see if I can help anyone in a bad patch out but you look fine so get on out of here.” Thanks Gordy. What an awesome character.
The descent to Swinging Bridge was fun and a little pleasure to take in before the heinous climb up Devil’s Thumb. I passed some people on the way down and they passed me right back on the climb up Devil’s Thumb. I just cooled off in the stream a bit and tried to maintain a steady hike up Devil’s Thumb. We really lucked out as about that time, the clouds had rolled in and it was overcast and shady. The hike up Devil’s Thumb is a real slog but I tried to keep it slow and easy and let a whole bunch of people pass me on the way up. It was also pretty serendipitous that the song Lifestorm by Blackyear came up on my playlist. Anyone who has watched the movie Unbreakable about the 2010 Western States race will recognize that song as the song that started playing right around the same situation of the race leaders going through Deadwood Canyon and up Devil’s Thumb. I channeled my inner Geoff Roes and let people pass trot up that climb while I shuffle-hiked. ☺ Patience and calm.
To my utmost surprise, I came in to Devil’s Thumb aid station (mile 47.8) at 3:20pm. Ten minutes under 24-hour pace! I was positive I had given up some time on the climb up with my uphill shuffle so it was a pleasant surprise and a great morale boost. It was still hot though and, with the second half of the climb in open exposure, I was craving some salty foods. I topped up my fluids, got a sponge bath and took some time to eat some avocado with salt (tasted amazing at that point!) and gulped down some thick chicken broth. (Spent about 4minutes at that aid station).
With my spirits buoyed, my cramping on its way out, and my stomach more settled, I sped down to El Dorado Creek, perhaps a little bit more exuberantly than I should have. What can I say? I love downhills! I started to feel it a bit in my left hip muscles and a bit in my quads but nothing untoward 50miles into a mountainous hundo. I knew I had taken the descent to El Dorado a bit faster than I should have when I came into the aid station at the bottom of the canyon (mile 52.9) at 4:17pm – 23minutes ahead of 24-hr pace. In essence, I had banked about 17minutes in 5 miles. Ouch!
It was still hot climbing out of El Dorado and I do not remember much of that stretch other than trying to spray water over myself as much as possible and dry heaving a couple of times. All I can remember is wanting to get the climb over with and see my crew at Michigan Bluff. I hit Michigan Bluff (mile 55.7) at 5:14pm - 26 minutes ahead of 24-hr pace. I saw Steph’s smiling face and got all crewed up. I did not want to stay long at Michigan Bluff but took some time to drink some Ensure, ginger ale and get iced up as well as attach a battery pack to charge my Garmin on the way to Foresthill.
Arielle at Michigan Bluff
Me walking through Michigan Bluff with Steph
Me nursing a cup of broth, while walking through Michigan Bluff.
Taking a breather and hooking up the battery pack to my Garmin.
I don’t know what it is but I find the sections through Volcano Canyon and the preceding climb to Michigan Bluff worse than the section through Deadwood Canyon with Devil’s Thumb. They are hot, exposed and a whole lot of not much. The climb out of Volcano Canyon was just mainly spurred on by trying to maintain (what I considered to be) a slim margin I had on 24-hr pace. For most of that section, I kept questioning how much do I want that silver buckle, how deep was I willing to dig for it and how mentally challenging it was to stay in the game. Anything can happen in a hundred-miler and it does not take much for a 20-30minute margin to be eaten up by any number of issues that could crop up in the next 40-ish miles. At this point, I was feeling still good enough physically that I could ease my foot off the gas pedal, most likely still get my sub-30hr finish and enjoyed the Western States experience but it was going to take something else to go for the A goal.
Part of that something else came in the form of Amy Rusiecki, whom I saw walking down Bath Road. I almost cried in relief as I hugged her (I think I hugged her? I was too blotto from the canyons to remember much at this point) and she hiked up Bath Road with me into Foresthill. She was here at WSER to pace/guide a visually-impaired runner, Kyle Robidoux, through the race’s first attempt by a visually-impaired runner. His story is inspiring and one to emulate. Unfortunately, his WSER story ended (for now at least) at Red Star Ridge where he timed out due to trouble navigating the snow in the high country. I remember remarking to a fellow runner as we were traversing the high country snow that if we were slipping, sliding and having this much trouble with the snow, I can’t imagine what Kyle must be going through, given his visual limitations. Anyways, as Kyle had DNF’ed earlier today, apparently Amy managed to meet up with Arielle and the rest of my crew and come onboard as honorary Chris’s crew member… and I am so thankful for that.
Amy running with me into Foresthill.
I professed my doubts about 24-hr pace to Amy on the way into the aid station. With steady reassurance, she mainly advised to not think too much about it until mile 80 and evaluate where I am at that point. At the back of my mind, I sort of knew that – to take it step-by-step, aid station by aid station – but it was good to hear someone else say it. Most people say the race starts at Foresthill and it is easy to get sucked into the atmosphere of Foresthill, which feels like a major milestone of the race. Running down Foresthill road, I came upon my crew, just before the Foresthill aid station (mile 62), about 30 minutes behind 24-hour pace. I took a bit of a breather, changed my shirt and buffs to prep for the colder night time, packed my headlamps and picked up Reed, my pacer for the next 16-18 miles, up to Green Gate.
My crew at Foresthill. All smiles and positivity!
Getting ready to leave Foresthill, still smiling (or a grimace? 😝)!
Foresthill (mile 62) to Green Gate (mile 80)
Taking our time walking out of Foresthill to give me time to get down some broth, we ran into Ben Bartley, who was there pacing for his friend Cris who was close behind us. (They ended up passing us (and a whole ton of people) somewhere between Foresthill and the finish.) After a quick catch-up and a selfie with Ben, Reed and I took off down Cal Street. We settled into a rhythm and kept hopscotching with some of the runners and pacers around us. At that point in the race, you start to see the same people around you as you bounce back and forth, going through different periods of highs and lows, climbing and descending. Having a pacer again during a hundo was a weird experience after doing my last three hundreds without one. I really appreciated Reed being there but I may have gotten used to being in my own head.
Ben and I selfie at Foresthill.
As night was descending, I do not remember much about the section between Foresthill and Rucky Chucky, other than a few highlights. We just focused on running the descents and flats, hiking the uphills, fueling up on Coke and water at aid stations and taking in broth. My left hip TFL and upper IT band were starting to get tight and achy, probably from fighting/compensating the opposing/counter adductor cramping earlier in the day, so I decided to take it a bit easier down Cal Street. Even so, we hit Peachstone (Cal-2, mile 70.7) at 8:45pm – 35mins ahead of 24hr. At some point, (and I don’t remember this exactly) I tried to sell Reed that Salt Caps were a viable source of calories (They have 0 cals so not really).
Halfway through, I talked to Reed about a difficult concern I had about pacer choice for the next section between Green Gate and Pointed Rocks. I had a concern that, if I were to push for sub-24hr, that Beau, my original choice for pacer for that section, 1) may not be able to keep up and 2) may not be the best choice to give me that mental edge and push I needed to go for sub-24hr. Don’t get me wrong. I think Beau would have been great as a pacer and as company, if I was on over-24hr pace, if the main goal was to enjoy the experience, take in the race and just hit the finish line under 30-hours. I would have loved to have been able to enjoy a lovely sunrise over Cool Meadows (mile 94) together but this was not that race. With sub-24 and that silver buckle tantalizingly ephemeral at my fingertips, this was now a different type of race. At this point, I was under no illusion that that silver buckle was firmly in my grasp but it was still like sand, grip too tightly and it will trickle out from my fingers. According to Reed, Beau had already brought up that thought earlier at Foresthill and that Amy could be a possible alternative for that next stretch. That made me a feel a lot better but still left me with a difficult decision to ponder over the next few miles to Rucky Chucky.
The last “highlight” of the stretch between Foresthill to Rucky Chucky was crappy… literally. I really had to poop between miles 75 or so to Rucky Chucky (mile 78). It was déjà vu as it was Memorial Day Training Weekend all over again as that was the exact same spot I ran into the same issue during the training run. Some Pavlovian response maybe? That is really the worst stretch to be on to have that feeling as the trail is a wide open dirt road with steep cliffs on both sides with little vegetation cover and lots of exposure. I really didn’t want to poop my shorts (like I did at Bear100 last year) so I just held it and slowed to a fast walk (13min/mile walking speed FTW!). Even with shuffling and powerwalking most of the last 2 miles to Rucky Chucky (mile 78), we hit the aid station at 10:30pm – 40mins ahead of 24hr pace. Rucky Chucky was a party with tons of lights, music and people but I just beelined to the bathroom. I gave away 5 minutes or so for an extended pitstop before rafting over to the far side of the river. That was a really cool experience, hopping onto the rafts with Reed to cross the American River, with the reflections of the lights from the aid station on both sides of the river dancing across the water surface.
Picture of Beau, Arielle and Amy walking over to Green Gate Aid Station. What a gorgeous sunset.
Rucky Chucky river crossing. This year the water levels were high enough that everyone would be rafted over the river or else runners would wade across the river on foot.
LOL, Reed looks the most dynamic out of everyone on the boat. At this point, I was a little out of it and still pondering who to go with for the next section. (Photo by Facchino Photography)
Me being helped out of the PFD after climbing out of the raft.
Meeting up with Arielle, Steph and Amy on the far side of Rucky Chucky, we began to hike up to Green Gate. I had to stop a couple of times to catch my breath as another issue was starting to crop up. This part of the course, from mile 75-ish onwards, was dustier than the other sections and the dry dust was starting to irritate my lungs and throat, making it difficult to breathe hard. This was very concerning to me as this is basically what grounded my pace at Bear100 last year down to a slow walk as I couldn’t breathe deeply for the last 50miles without going into a coughing fit. This time, though, I knew better and started to cover my nose and mouth with a wet Buff to filter out some of the dust, which helped tremendously. I knew this would soon be an issue when I could see the glittering dust reflecting the light from my headlamp.
Hitting the top of Green Gate (mile 80)at 11:13pm (30mins ahead of 24hr), I changed into a long sleeve as the temps were dropping a bit and I was slowing down and fueled up on some food, broth, Coke and water. I apologized to Beau and made the difficult decision to ask Amy to be my pacer for the next section to Pointed Rocks.
Green Gate (mile 80) to the Finish (mile 100.2)
Taking off from Green Gate, Amy and I just trucked along, trying to run the flats and downhills and power-hike the uphills. She got in-tune with me pretty quickly, knowing when to advise me to slow down enough to be able to try and breathe deep on the ups. She told me I was moving well enough on the flats and downs that I could afford to give up some time on the ups to get my breathing under control. My main issues now were my left hip muscles and the dust so she knew well enough to actually tell me to push and pass people in order to get in front of them so that I wouldn’t be breathing in their kicked-up dust.
Amy would tell me stories (something about pacing and checking out and complementing Brian’s (her husband) butt) and about how our/my crew gave themselves the name Tiny Goats Excel (apparently there was a field near Foresthill with tons of tiny goats and I am known for my spreadsheets). We talked about how the whole team met each other, how I knew the rest of the team, the infamous Walmsley turn and how great the trail/ultra community is. Well, she talked for most of it and I grunted in response. There was a funny point, where I abruptly just stopped to bend over to stretch my hammies, adductors and left hip. I usually like my pacers to follow so Amy was right behind me and almost ran into me. I commented to Amy that I don’t think my butt was as nice as Brian’s so best she stay away. ☺
We settled on a routine at that point for the aid stations that we passed through (Auburn Lake Trails -mile 85.2 (25mins under 24hr pace) and Quarry Road – mile 90.7 (29mins under 24-hr pace)). I would grab some broth to drink, fill up one soft flask with Coke, the other with Water, sit in a chair to stretch and keep moving. We were also hopscotching a bit with legendary ultrarunner Dave Mackey, who was then vying to become the first amputee athlete to finish the race since Amy Palmiero Winters in 2010. Unfortunately, he pulled out at mile 93 aid station, which was very unexpected, considering we were right behind him coming into ALT and he beat us out of the aid station. He was having a tough time on the downhills with blown quads. Quarry Road to Pointed Rocks through Cool Meadows was a bit of a bear as it was just a long steady gradual climb and I kept wondering where the aid station was. That just felt like a really long stretch but I was happy to roll into Pointed Rocks at 3am (mile 94.3 – 30mins under 24hr pace) and pick up Steph as my pacer for the last 6 miles. At this point, I could smell the barn and let off the gas a bit and took the climbs easy as my left hip was hurting and stiff. The dust was also definitely affecting my breathing a bit but I had also mentally flipped off a switch when I knew that I could coast it in for that silver buckle.
We took off downhill towards No Hands Bridge. I was still moving pretty well on the descents (apparently still keeping 12min/mile pace, according to Steph’s watch) and we rolled into No Hands Bridge at 3.30am (mile 96.8 – 35mins under 24hr) where I took a quick potty break. No Hands Bridge was really cool at night, with the both sides of the bridge lit up and with national flags of the US as well as every international runner at WSER that year.
Pic of me coming into No Hands Bridge aid station.
No Hands Bridge aid station, where there were lights strung above/across the bridge. It was a really cool sight at night.
After No Hands Bridge, it was a gradual incline (which felt like a mountain) and then we hit the climb up to Robie Point. We hit Robie Point (mile 99) at 4.12am, with 1.3miles to go and 48minutes to do it in. A few hundred meters out from Robie, we met up with Beau, Amy and Reed walking towards Robie. While we jogged (where we could) over to Placer High, we admired along the way the night decorations people had to celebrate Western States runners and felt very loved by the community of Auburn. We met up with Arielle at the entrance to the stadium and had the most glorious 200m stroll over to the Western States 100 finish line (mile 100.2 – 23:31:45). All I could process was the overwhelming feeling of… it’s done.
On the track at Placer High School in Auburn with the rest of the team. If you look closely enough, perhaps you could see a smile in there somewhere? (not sure what I was pointing at.)
Pretty derpy finish line gesture. I need to come up with a better one. Any suggestions?
Taking it all in post-race. They were doing some work on the high school field, so the finish line setup was different from all the other years.
Post-Race
Hanging out at the finish line during the golden hour (last hour of the race). No more electrifying and energizing place to be on the last Sunday of June every year. (Watch Gunhild Swanson's 29:59:54 finish in 2015 - the first 70+ female finisher of WSER100.) Last finisher of 2019 finished in 29:59:38 (22secs to spare).
What does it mean to have a dream come true? I don’t know. I still waver, flipping between mental exhaustion and not being able to believe it. It may be weird but I don’t know if I feel happy or ecstatic about it. I think most of all, I feel content. From my training log, this has been the most prepared I have ever been for a hundred-miler and, undoubtedly, needed to be. It definitely paid off. At two weeks post-race, this is pretty much the first time I have come out of a hundo without any significant injuries or need for physical therapy. Arielle and I even did a bunch of hiking and camping up in the White Mountains the weekend of July 4th.
I got to learn to drive a tractor at the Airbnb we stayed at post-race! My motor skills still work!
While the Bear100 may have been physically harder, pushing for that silver buckle at Western States was definitely the most mentally taxing hundred-miler yet. As it took 5 years for me to get into this race and this may quite possibly be the one and only time I ever do it, coupled with the resource and time investment on my behalf and on behalf of my crew, there is just so much pressure to complete it, let alone go for “A” goals. I had never really dared to conceive of the possibility of a silver buckle when I started the race or even training up to it. I thought I would just execute and come out with the bronze buckle and be happy. Even if I thought of the silver buckle, I thought it would take me multiple attempts to get it. I have to thank the weather gods for smiling on us that day as the weather was amazing. Were it any hotter, I wouldn’t have been able to go sub-24. I definitely attribute a lot of my success to the weather.
Huge thank you to my crew and pacers – Arielle, Beau, Steph and Reed! I had a defining experience and I hope everyone on my crew team did too as well. (And thank you guys for all the pictures during the race). Like I said at my pre-race crew briefing, I look back and I don’t think I would ask for a different team (although I think Erin Hazler would make a fine addition to the team ). Everyone really meshed well together, despite most of the team meeting each other for the first time on this trip, and everyone was a beacon of positivity and love. And Amy – my impromptu crew member and pacer! You have no idea how much I appreciated you being out there, with your calm words and steadfastness. You always knew the right things to say when I needed them.
Relaxing times post-race at our post-race airbnb
Steph taking the paddle-boat out for a spin around the pond.
More random weird cowboy statues.
Feeding horses!
Post-race shenanigans.
One final question remains – will I ever do this race again? I don’t know. Even now, I am inclined to pass over my future lottery entries to give others a chance to experience this historic and venerated race. Now that Western States is checked off my bucket list, I am also more inclined to focus my attention on getting into and completing Hardrock. I will say, though, that many parts of this course play well to my strength on the downhills and I wonder what I can do if I fully lay it all out there. For now, I am content but never say never and maybe one day I will again #seeyouinsquaw.
The sub-24hr Silver Buckle award. One of the most coveted awards in hundred-mile trail ultrarunning. Love the intricate detail on this.
What went well
1. My body held up surprisingly well. Other than the early cramping and the tight left hip, nothing went super sideways. I attribute this to putting in sufficient training, sufficient strengthening and conditioning as well as good recovery practices (stretching, rolling, etc.). I do also somewhat attribute this to not trashing myself physically and laying everything out there on the course.
2. My crew. 'Nuff said.
3. Troubleshooting and adaptability. I think I troubleshot really well, figured out what was wrong and came up with solutions more efficiently and effectively, especially in the earlier parts of the race, when the cramps hit me. I think my obsessive planning helped play a part in this as it gave me options to utilize in times of need. As my crew can tell you, I was able to conduct the crew briefing almost by heart, with minimal references to my spreadsheet. Experience was definitely a factor as well, in being able to draw upon a whole host of experiences when things went south and, trust me, there are a lot of them.
4. I think I raced smart, within myself and got it done. Smart and safe.
What I learnt (part 1)
1. Am I too conservative when running hundred-milers? I think my hundred-mile experiences so far have left me rather conservative when running hundred-milers. Too many incidences of blowing up or things going sideways that I actually finished the race feeling not entirely physically spent as I usually do. Sometimes, certain experiences haunt you, like trying to go for sub-24hrs at IT100 in 2015, only to walk the entire last 16 miles due to seized hamstrings and adductors and come in over 25hours. I definitely did not want a repeat of that experience here. Again, topped with the pressure to ensure that I at least finish what may be a once-in-a-lifetime race, I made sure to save enough gas in the tank for anything that could happen. I think that all this is compounded with the pressure to at least finish the hundred-milers that I start because every entry into a Western States and/or Hardrock lottery counts and counts for more with each passing consecutive entry.
Me with Jim Walmsley, 2019 winner and current WSER100 record holder at 14:09:28. A definite symbol of going-for-it, even if it means potentially blowing up.
2. I may be better suited to not having pacers. As great as my pacers were, sometimes I did wish for the solitary, introspective experiences that often come during the night and late stages of a hundo. While I was buoyed by the company, I couldn’t really get into the flow that I get when I can just put on my 9-song playlist and just go. Since they all came a very long way to be there for me and I wanted them to be a part of this experience, I always felt a bit of pressure to engage with them and, when I did, I will admit that grunting is a sub-par level of engagement. I do feel a bit guilty about going for sub-24. Hundos are already such a selfish experience, what with having crew wait on you hand-and-foot and all, and to add on top of that, pushing for an A-goal, which creates some level of isolationist, single-minded tunnel vision of moving forward as fast as you can. We couldn’t more time at aid stations and chat up the volunteers. We couldn’t stop to take a look around to admire the gorgeous scenery. We couldn’t walk and discuss about the multitude of flags what hung on each side of No Hands Bridge and what countries they represented.
3. What it is like to be paced by a really good pacer and be a good pacer. Amy pacing me was an eye-opening experience into being paced by someone who knows how to balance pushing someone for a goal but still taking care of them. If I could internalize a modicum of what I experienced and make myself a better pacer, I would be truly blessed. I am truly thankful for Amy’s empathy and her desire to help others succeed and achieve their goals. She also has been to Western States and knows how hundreds can take you into the depths of your own soul. Maybe that is really what it comes down to. Empathy from experience and a desire to help others achieve goals.
What I would do differently next time (if there is a next time)
1. Simplify my setup and equipment. I feel sorry/bad for my crew, lugging all my crap and nutrition around, only for me to not use 80% of it when my stomach went south. It was a lot to carry around, especially at a race like Western States, where aid stations are not very accessible and involve hiking to get to. I think I need to try working with less and less is more.
2. Now that I have my silver buckle, if I were to do Western States again, I would move to one of 2 directions, either 1)to take it out harder and see what I can do on that course or 2) take it really easy and really take the time to enjoy the experience. I felt that, when I picked up Reed, I slowed down a bit and took Foresthill to the river (Rucky Chucky) a bit conservatively. While 3 and a half hours for those 16miles is not bad, I feel that I may be able to take most of those downhill sections a bit more assertively as well as some of those earlier canyons or the gradual descents. On the other hand, I do regret a bit not taking the time to enjoy sceneries, take pictures and to chat up the aid station volunteers. I paid a lot of money for the race and it would be nice to experience as many minutes of it as I can. What would it be like to be a golden hour finisher, I wonder…
What I learnt (part 2)
I love the process, the process of training, planning and executing a trail ultra. After all, after everything is said and done and that finish line was crossed, nothing really changed. I did not become an amazingly better/changed person or a better/changed runner. In the grand scheme of things, like I said in the beginning of this post, this was just another hundred, albeit a major hundred. David and Megan Roche talks a lot about results-oriented versus focusing on the process in their great book, Happy Runner and it really resonates with me. It also very accurately reflected how I felt after Western States. I love just getting out in the hills/mountains, exploring nature, trying out wacky training strategies (like hiking/running Seven Sisters with an 18lb pack) and exploring my limits as a runner. It’s one of the main reasons why I really want to do Hardrock. No different buckles and a laid back atmosphere. Just 48-hours in the rugged beauty of the San Juan mountains. Now that I have gotten my results-focused silver buckle out of the way, I think maybe it’s time to get back to the basic process of running, putting one foot in front of another. Why? Because I love it.
Squaw Valley
