Well it is all over now, for now

Well I am still in a little bit of shock but Western States has come and gone. It is hard to believe that something that I had looked to do for so long is now over, and soon I am sure I will be in search of a new long term goal. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and a long time coming for this dance with WSER, as you guys know, but I will share a little secret with you. I really want to go back, lol! The whole of the race was an amazing experience (really unlike any other race I have been a part of) and everything from the people who put it on to the way my crew functioned could not have been better. I am sure that most of you also follow me on Facebook, or in other ways know the outcome of the race, but I am going to take some time today to just let you know what happened during the race from my prospective and then give some of my final thoughts about what happened. Also, if you were wondering, “what is going to happen to the blog now that the race is over?” I plan on keeping it going. So if you are still interested in checking out what is going on in my running from time to time, the blog will still be here. So on to the race.

The trail map

7pm the night before, we had just finished dinner at the VRBO we picked up in Squaw Valley. It was a really nice place and it seems these house rentals are really the way to go for a large group. We have had two really successful trips going that route. Trying to eliminate any surprises before the race we elected to eat in and had Shannon and his crew joined us. Shannon had salmon and I had a very big sweet potato with rice and veggies. Most of the rest of the crew had hamburgers that they cooked out on the grill. As you might imagine there was a lot of nervous energy in the room as we discussed last minute instructions and crew plans. I elected to try and go to bed early. But every time I would try to calm my mind I would think of another thing that I needed or might need for the race. So it was an endless up and down. I am not really sure how much sleep I actually got, but I did my best to at least try and stay in the bed and relax. I know that it seems like a 3am wake-up call should have come early, but it seemed like an eternity before the alarm finally went off. When it did I made my way to the kitchen and tried to make a little noise as possible (so the crew could get some sleep) while I made my breakfast. Still keeping it simple I made three eggs with white rice. By the time I was wrapping up most of the rest of the gang had joined me in the kitchen. Sometime during the night Matt Carver had made his way to the house. Matt is a former River Parks employee that ran with us a lot back in the glory days of the old Turkey Mountain trail running group, but had since moved to California. He contacted me a couple of weeks ago about coming down to document the race (he is a super talented photographer and filmmaker). I told him that we would love to have him with us. I did not however realize that it was an eight-hour drive from his house to where we were staying. I was really blown away that he wanted to make the trip and it was totally awesome of him to see him that morning. He was a real blessing for the whole experience not only because took all kinds of great photos and video, but the rest of the crew just kept talking about how awesome it was to have him there and how good it was to get to hang out with him again. After I finished eating I went to get ready and try not to get myself freaked out. Before a big race like this my main focus is just to try and remain as calm as possible to avoid unneeded stomach distress. By 4am I was ready to head to the start line to get my race number and see if we could find Shannon. Leaving my crew to finish with their morning routine, Brynna and I made our way to the village.

In the Crowd

Less than a hour to Go.

The house was very close to the village but we come up on the back side. So it was very quiet on our way over. Of course it was still dark outside and was pretty cold. I had a hoodie on for this part. I got in line to pick up my bid and then jumped inside the area where they were serving breakfast. I had already eaten but I thought it was a cool idea for the race to offer breakfast to all the runners and crews. Instantly we went from it being very dark and quiet to humming and bustling with people. The hall was filled to the brim with runners and crew trying to stay warm as long as possible. Soon the rest of my crew joined me and spread out to see if they could locate Shannon while I pinned my race number to my shorts. Matt came back and said he didn’t see Shannon but upstairs it was much quieter if we wanted to move. So we climbed the stairs and found the bar area were packet pickup had been the day before. There was only about six other people up there and the lights were off. This was much more relaxing so the crew and I found seats and waited for the start. For the rest of the day this is what it would be like. It is a weird part of running ultras that you spend hours in the woods alone and totally quiet and then you come into these aid stations with people yelling and ringing cow bells and rushing around, it is a system shock every time. It is not a bad thing but can derail your plans pretty quick. While you are running to the aid stations you have all this time to think to yourself, I am going to do this or eat that or pick up something. But, when you come in, it is like you suddenly don’t have any time or you can’t think of what it is you wanted but don’t worry you will have plenty of time to think about it about 500 yards down the trail away from the aid station. I have never found a good solution to this, it seems it is just a part of the race but a good crew can definitely help minimize your mistakes. And a good pace later in the race can help be your brain. Sorry for that sidebar, but that was most of the morning moving in and out of these areas of activity. About the time we got comfortable in the dark room upstairs someone called out that there was only 10 minutes till the start. Time was speeding back up, and I knew then that I would be fight the clock till I finished on Sunday. Running is a sport that is all about time. It doesn’t matter how fast you run what part, or how long you spend at this aid station or whatever. It is not how you get there, only how long it takes you to get there. Time continues to march on until the finish and that will be the only time that matters. Now it was real and the time had come to go back out in the cold and wait for the start. At the bottom of the stairs I found Shannon and we shared a hug. I love Shannon and I was happy that we would both be sharing this experience, but at the same time I knew that I had my race to run and he had his. We are both runners who believe in true nature of running and we know that running is a deeply personal experience, particularly in a race this big. We would walk to the line together, however, on the other side of that starting line we would be on our own to find out what Western States would have for each of us on this day and how we would personally handle the mental and physical stress of what we were doing.

The Calm Before the Storm

Time to Head to the Start

Often at the start of marathons or 5ks there is music or a bunch of jumping around as people try and psych themselves up. 100 mile races are a little different. For the most part the race start was calm. Just a big group of people standing in the cold waiting for the start clock to hit zero. The instructions were over, the crew prep was over, the goodbyes to love ones had been said, and all the training and planning was behind us. Now it was just this clock and a trail in front of us that would lead from Squaw Valley to Auburn through the Serra Nevada Mountains. The most direct route from the old silver camps in Reno to the gold mining camps in Auburn. The route would go through deep hot canyons and cross the American River. It would be hard, but we all had run thousands of miles and spent countless hours planning to get to this start line. Now as the sound of the shot gun rang out over the ski slopes we had 30 hours and 100 miles to find out if we would break or be forged by this journey. I have often said that goals are not goals if it is something you can do. If you have run 30 marathons, running a marathon is not a goal. You can make it a goal by trying to run it faster or whatever, but for something to be a goal there has to be a real chance at failure. You cannot stand at the beginning of a goal and know that you will succeed. All you can do is prepare with everything you have and have a great deal of belief in yourself, and sometimes that will be enough. And sometimes it will not. A lot can happen in 100 miles, so I cheer all those who got up that morning to toe the line for that journey to the start line was in most cases much harder than the one to the finish will be. The journey to the start was not easy and what lay ahead of us would surely not be easy as everyone there, no matter how prepared, faced the real possibility that today would not be their day. The real possibility that all those month and years of work would not carry them to the finish. That they would not be among those to walk across the stage at 12:30 in Auburn on Sunday and receive a buckle. When faced with such odds you have to ask yourself why do it? I guess I have talked about it a few times, but it becomes even more important in a race like this. If you are putting in all that work and planning just to reach the finish line or get a buckle, you might be setting yourself up for some serious disappointment. Don’t get me wrong, that is the goal. That is why we are all out there, to cover the distance and reach the finish. But there has to be something more, some deeper reason that you are doing the run. If you have to reach the finish to find that something and it does not happen on the journey from the start to the finish or wherever you end up, then I have bad news for you. When you cross the finish line you will not be different. And it is likely that you will end up less happy then you were at the start if you thought otherwise, if you thought something would change or if you thought the person who crossed the finish line would somehow be better than that person who started the race. To modify a line from one of the greatest sports movies of all time Cool Runnings: “a buckle is a wonderful thing. But if you're not enough without one, you'll never be enough with one”. So I guess I am saying that is why we are out there, to see what is really deep inside ourselves. As I have said before I think that running like this exposes your true nature, and if you dig deep enough to find it I think you will be happy with the person you have always been inside. I talked last time about me relating to the Foolish Coyote, always searching and never satisfied. As I forced my barley awake body across the start line and began the long climb to the highest point of the course I knew two things. First, this was an amazing opportunity and would be something that I will remember for my whole life, and second it would not be enough. What I seek inside myself would be revealed on this course, but I would not be able to hold onto it. And before too long, there would be a new goal, a new race, and another chance to find that space. But, even with those thoughts in my head I was not ready for the depths I would journey through on my way to Auburn. Western States had already gifted me so many wonderful memories in the week leading up to the race, now it was time for the lesson.

At the Start Line

The race start was fairly crowded but the roads were wide so it was not much of an issue. From the start in the Village we would make or way up the service roads of the ski runs to the Watson Monument and over Emigrant Pass into an area of the course called the Wilderness. The pass is the highest point of the course and you reach it at about mile 4. The other side of the pass is single track, but the climb does enough damage to break the packs up so that the trails are not bad crowded by the time you make it over. Shannon and I became separated in the first mile; I would not see him again until the race was over. At this point you have to play a dangerous game, everyone is feeling good and moving fast. And you want to put down some miles while everything is going smoothly but you have to weight that against going to hard and blowing yourself up. I was moving very well, but really holding back. Because having attended the training camps I knew what was waiting in the canyons, and I wanted to be a fresh a possible when I reached that point. The race was split in my head by the crew stations were Brynna and the rest would meet me. So the first section would be from the starting line to Robinson Flat (about mile 30), then to Michigan Bluff (mile 55), then Forest Hill (mile 62) where I would get Jeff as a pacer, then Green Gate (mile 80) after the river crossing and where Philip would become my pacer, then Highway 49 (mile 93) where Sarah would take over pacing, and on to the Finish. So in the first section before the Lyon Ridge aid station I was going through all of this in my head when I got my first genital reminder from Western States. Not looking down I tripped on a root at full stride; before I knew what happened I was on my back in a bush off the side of the trail. I was so lucky to have fallen that way as there were big rocks everywhere, even though the bush was uncomfortable and I had to pick branches out of my shirt for a while, I was really no worse for the wear. I would have to do a better job of focusing on the trail if I wanted to get through this ordeal. Other than that fall the first section went very well. I had an alarm set on my watch to go off every hour. When it went off I would try and get at least 280 calories down, and I was hitting the water and sports drink fairly hard. Before I knew it I was rolling into Robinson Flat and ready to shed some clothing. At this point I was wearing a trucker hat, buff, and gloves. So I ditched the gloves, traded the hat for a visor, and soaked the buff. However; it is here that I made my first few tactical errors. First I wanted to switch my t-shirt for a singlet, but I told Brynna to bring that to Michigan Bluff not Robinson Flat, so it was not with the crew who had to come to the aid station via shuttle and were thereby limited to the amount of stuff they could carry. Second in all the shuffling around I forgot about my plan to eat at the crew stop. They had Smucker’s Uncrustables and Pringles that I should have eaten to put some solid food on my stomach. So far I had been all on gels and pouch based (Trail Butter and Cliff Organic) foods. On a lesser note I should have listened to my crew that wanted to filled my Buff with ice but at that time I was still feeling OK with the heat and I didn’t think that I wanted to deal with the hassle of the ice. Anyways none of those things happened and I soon headed out. Just before rolling out I asked about Shannon but as this was the first crew point there was little information to be had; however, Ryan with Shannon’s crew gave me some good advice to keep my pace down over this next section and not burn out my legs on the downhill. Despite the errors and the nerves, I left the aid station feeling confident as this was part of the course I had been on before and it was still early in the race.

The Climb to the Pass

The Monument Plaque

Coming into Robinson Flat

Back out to the Trial

Now the race moved to the area known as the Canyons. This is where every runner’s race is either made or broken. After Robinson Flat you have a short climb to make it over the peak and then a long slow descent through a few aid stations until you reach the Last Chance aid station. From there it is a sharp descent into Deadwood Canyon before the most difficult climb of the race up to Devil’s Thumb. In the run from Robinson into Last Chance I was still moving very well and the miles were still coming easy but you could definitely feel that it was getting hot fast. I was also having some slight stomach issues, but nothing that a well-timed aid station with a port-a-john couldn’t fix. At the aid stations I was trying to keep the eating on schedule but the heat was clearly having an effect on my appetite and the gels were getting a little too sugary. Add to that I was still refusing ice at the aid stations to my own detriment, opting to instead just keep my Buff wetted. When I hit the bottom of Deadwood Canyon I felt like I got there as good as could have been expected and was totally aware that I was in for a long exposed hike to Devil’s Thumb. Now I am not a very good power hiker so I was expecting to lose some time here and I was not overly concerned about that. Then about a mile from the summit aid station disaster hit. I miss calculated on my water and ran out. I was on to the steepest and most exposed part of the climb and without water could barely move. Just like an overheating car engine I was reduced to a few hundred yards of hiking then having to sit and cool down as best I could before repeating the process. Finally, within a half mile to the aid station I met some volunteers from the aid station that had come down to check on runners. It was good to see them as I knew I had to be getting close, unfortunately they did not have any water. However, in talking with them a runner coming by heard me say I was out and offered up some if his. This kind gesture kept me moving up, and most likely kept me in the race. At the aid station I relented and took all the ice I could hold and after a few minutes there to recover I was on my way into El Dorado Creek canyon and on to the climb of Michigan Bluff. The downhill run was not bad and the ice helped. When I reached the aid station at the base of the climb I was finally getting water down well again and tried to eat some fruit. I loaded up with ice and water and made my start on the hike up to the Bluff. This climb is not as steep as Devil’s Thumb, but it is long and very hot. Now the heat was really getting to me. After overheating on the last climb it did not take long for my stomach to go into full revolt. Somewhere along the trail here I had my first bout with throwing up. This is not helpful when you are trying to stay hydrated, but I was a little more motivated to keep climbing as I knew my crew would be at the top. Finally, I started seeing spectators and before long the wonderful sight of Wes. Unable to get much out at that point I just made a sign to him that I had been throwing up and he sped off to alert the crew. I made my way into the aid station and stopped at the ice tent. Brynna wanted me to move over to our crew spot, but I needed a minute to cool down. So I was feeling a little better and moved over to the patch of grass the crew had claimed. While setting there and explaining to the crew what was going on the aid station doctor came up to check on me. Now this was not just any doctor, I mean I guess not just any doctor would spend all weekend out at an aid station watching a bunch of crazies, he was wearing a 1000-miles 10-days buckle. Which means that the guy checking up on me had 10 sub 24 hour finishes at Western. That is pretty awesome. As I cooled down and got some fluids back in me I started to look human again (according to my crew) I knew the next section would not be fun but I wanted to push on to get to Foresthill so I could at least have a pacer. So I finally got up and headed back out. This next section would be one of the hardest for me in the race. But at this point I was still pretty confident that I would come out of this stomach trouble and get back to running. The stomach issues were not anything new to me at 100 mile races, but usually I can come out of it at some point. Also, I forgot to mention that the aid station was run by a group call the Donner Party, and they were dressed in old timey clothes which was fun.

A shot Matt took of me coming into Michigan Bluff. I really love this shot.

The climb to forest hill would mark the last major climb for quite some time, so despite it being crappy I at least knew that I was getting into the more runnable sections of the course. After what seemed like an eternity I finally made it to Bath Road, the 1 mile paved section that leads to Foresthill. 100k of the race was behind me which was a good thing and that this point I still had plenty of time for a good finish. In fact, I was still realistically on pace to finish under 24 hours. Foresthill is the biggest aid station and the only one that the crew vehicle can be at. So I would have access to all of my supplies. I came in feeling not great but upon stopping things would really go downhill. I ran through the aid station and made it to my crew car at the far end of the street. The moment I stopped with all my crew there huddled around me all the pain and sickness I had been trying to hold off just came rushing in. In all the races I have done I have had one DNF, at the Canadian Death Race. That DNF was due to poor planning. Going to such a difficult race without a crew and no real plan for water and food led to me having to pull out of the race. But even in that race I felt like I had the fitness to finish, just no real way to do it. Foresthill on this day was different. Soon my 10-minute stop was turning into a 40-minute stop and I was becoming very familiar with a tree near our car that was my throw up spot. I was sitting in the car with the AC on and having to really face the question, was I going to be able to finish this race. Something the race director said during the crew meeting kept sticking in my mind. He said that most everyone who crosses the river finishes the race. If I left this aid station, then next time that I saw my crew would be on the other side of the river. I knew what I had to do, so against all reason and common sense, I stepped out of the car looked at Jeff and said “let’s go”. It was a weird sensation to leave Foresthill, my crew had done great and I really felt like this was going to happen now. I was going to finish the race. At the same time, I had just shelled my whole race plan. I had to come to terms with the fact that there would be no sub-24-hour finish today. I was not going to come thundering into Auburn like I had dreamed, but that was the lesson here. I might not have a silver buckle on the other side of the finish line, but if I wanted to get there at all it was going to take a journey through a valley of pain unlike anything I had every experienced. But I would make this journey, and I could make the journey, for only one reason. I was not alone. Armed with headlamps Jeff and I made our way towards Rucky Chuck (the American River crossing). It would be about 18 miles until I saw my crew again, but I was hopeful that the next time I saw them it would be clear that we were bringing this thing home.

Just past the Aid Station at Forest Hill, Cars for a Mile Literally 

Words cannot describe how good it was to have Jeff with me for those next sections. I knew what we would be racing the sun in trying to get as many miles in as possible before darkness was upon us. But, they were not going to come easy. Every section was difficult and Jeff did his best to keep me moving and trying to put food down. I was having almost no success with solid food, however, the water and a few salt tabs were staying down. I had been through this section of the course on one of the training runs so I knew that after the Cal 2 aid station we would have a long downhill section. I was not having any trouble with sleep but thought if I could get a slight rest at the Cal 2 aid station maybe my body would reset a little. So I discussed this plan with Jeff, and I could tell he was not really seeing the benefit. His thought is that we should keep moving, and in retrospect he was most likely right. I tried to rest at the station but with all the commotion it was really just laying down for 10 mins and nothing more. However, it did give me new life for a few miles after. I even took the lead on the trail and made Jeff follow me for a while. But as we got close to the river the wheels were coming off again. The approach to the river includes a few significant climbs and I was feeling those. But we were passing some people and making alright time. Not the great race I was having before Michigan Bluff, but keeping us ahead of cut off for sure. Soon the lights of the river crossing were in the distance, and despite not looking forward to the cold water I knew what crossing would mean. This would be my Rubicon, crossing the river would be my personal proclamation that I would finish this race. Coming into the aid station was really an experience. It was lit up like a beacon and there were volunteers and crew everywhere. As soon as I came in I heard someone yelling my name. I knew that my crew was two miles up the hill at Green Gate so it was my hope that it was someone from Shannon’s crew and I could find out how he was doing. To was not part of Shannon’s crew but it was a Rush Runner (the running store in Rogers that Shannon is part of the race team for) who gave me the devastating news that Shannon’s fallen and hurt his ribs and as such had slowed him significantly. When came into Forest Hill he was 10 minutes after cut off. His race was over, and between the shock and disappointment I knew that this was just another reason that I had to finish this race. Then Jeff from Rush Running (not my pacer) asked me how my race was going and I told him about my stomach distress. He informed me that a chiropractor was giving some people adjustments at the aid station that were helping some with their stomach issues. At this point I was willing to try anything so I said I would give it a shot, in steps Gordy. That is right the chiropractor out at some freezing river in the middle of the night helping runners was no other than Gordy Ainsleigh himself, the first finisher of the Western States course (back when it was a horse race) and the father of 100-mile trail running. Gordy worked his magic and even though it did not settle my stomach it did wonders for lifting my spirits. If the founder of this race was trying to help me finish at 1 am and right then I knew what I had to do. Jeff and I made our way down to the river and were help across by dozens of volunteers that stood in the river all night to help runners not die (really it was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be) and soon we were on our way up to Green Gate.

Me with Gordy, Jeff is so blown away by meeting Gordy he can't open his eyes

Green Gate was the most subdued of all the aid stations that I came across the whole race, which was a little weird as it was a crew spot. But the quite nature of the aid station was nice at this point. I talked with the crew, really feeling pretty good about my time, but Brynna told me that I needed to get with it and not think I had this thing in the bag just yet. She said I needed to run if I was going to finish this thing before the cutoff. So as quickly as I could I changed my shoes and sock, put on a new shirt, got a headlamp with fresh batteries, and Pip led me down the trail. Pip was a very different pacer than Jeff, not in a bad way they just have very different styles. He was not content with letting me walk much and he really tried to keep me to at least a jog. We agreed that on flats and downhills we would do all we could to keep running. I was grateful for his pushing of the pace, and also that he tried to keep my time at aid stations to a minimum. Each aid station at this point brought more certainty that I was going to finish the race before the cutoff. And for a while it would seem that the call of the finish line was helping my running. Pip told me that we had increased our average pace by 4 minutes per mile on the second half of his pacing section. I didn’t feel any better but at least I was moving. If a 100-mile race takes you long enough there is some relief that comes after all the revolt your body does in the middle of the night while it is trying to tell you that you should be in bed and this can be the greatest time of any hundred miler, sunrise. As we approached the Ford’s Bar aid station the sun came out. No more head lamps, no more dark silence, now we would be running in this new day. As if they knew how this made me feel as I approached Ford’s Bar the music we heard blaring through the trees was the song “I can see clearly now the rain is gone” and the song was right, it was going to be a bright sun shiny day. Ford’s Bar was a cool aid station and the people were super nice, it also turns out they were good friends with Justin Walker and recognized my Runner’s World Tulsa gear. Besides being awesome they also helped me by forcing me to try some chocolate milk. This did not go down easy, but it stayed down and gave me a lot more calories than the vegetable broth I had been drinking. I left wishing I had tried that a little earlier. The next section of the course would be making our way to the Highway 49 crossing. This is where Pip’s pacing duties would end and I would pick up Sarah. It would also mean less than 7 miles left in the race. On the way to that aid station we traveled down a gravel road for about two and a half miles from Ford’s Bar before we jumping onto a side trail that would take us up the steep climb to Highway 49. Pip and I commented on how marked the turn off the road onto the trail was. I mean there was caution tape and marking flags everywhere. Turns out this is where the race leader Jim Walmsley had gotten off course earlier in the day. He ended up going from being 20 minutes ahead of the course record to well back in the field. Devastatingly finishing even outside the top ten. The race is cruel to everyone it would seem.

Green Gate Aid Station

Highway 49 Aid Station

After what seemed like forever on a climb that really was not that bad, we ended up at Highway 49. This aid station was really hopping and I was surprised to see everyone still had so much energy. I mean we had been up for more than a day at this point and for you would think at least some of the people had to be struggling with the desire to sleep. Brynna saw me right away as I came into the aid station and she was not too happy with my desire to sit down for a second and try to get some more chocolate milk down. But I convinced her it was a good idea and I sat for just a moment. Sarah was rip roaring ready to go, and I picked her to pace me this last section precisely because I knew she would have this kind of energy. So we took off to finish the climb that peaks just past Highway 49 and from there we would drop down to the iconic No Hands Bridge. This would be the last aid station and signal about 3 miles left in the race. For the climb we were still moving OK and soon we were on the meadow that goes across the top of the climb on the outskirts of the town Cool, but the heat was coming and the meadow had no tree cover so it was still not easy. During this section we passed quite a few people and I made sure to try and encourage everyone that I came across telling them I would see them in Auburn, and this is really happening. Before I knew it we were dropping down onto No Hands Bridge. Earlier that week we had come down to No Hands Bridge during a training run, and at the south side of the bridge there is a sign that has markings of 97 miles to Squaw Valley and 4 miles to Auburn. I had a little conversation with that sign during the training run and prayed that I would see it again. When we finally came into the aid station I went straight to the sign and let it know I was back. “I told you I would be back”. We spent only long enough in the aid station for me to refill my bottle and pour some ice over me. And we were off again. Even though we had a little over three miles left in the race it would only be about 2 miles before I saw my crew again. You can have an unlimited number of crew and pacers from Robie Point to the finish, about the last mile or so. I knew that all I had to do was get there. The problem was this would be a climb out of the lowest point on the course at around 500 feet to the Auburn at about 1200 feet. It is not a massive climb but it is totally exposed and with rock all around you and it feels like an oven. Sure would have been nice to finish before the sun came up, LOL. And despite all the encouragement from Sarah my body felt the finish coming and was shutting down. It is amazing how your body always knows how far you are running and really punches you in the gut when it knows you are about to stop. The last two miles might have been the hardest of the race. The climb to Robie Point was slow and required a few breaks, but before too long (total lie it took forever) I started to hear cheering. People from all over, crews and residents of Auburn had come out to cheer runners in. Finally, I reached the paved road that would lead to the track at Placer High School and my whole crew was there. I was so happy to see them and less happy to find out that the road did not flatten when you hit the pavement as I had hoped. Rather the climbing continued, but I felt like a superstar with my crew all around me, and I knew that I was doing all that I could. Finally, the road stopped its relentless climb and started to pitch back down. There we crossed the famous white bridge. I spent just a moment there to enjoy the significance of crossing this bridge, it would be less than a third of a mile to the track. And then I was there, in the track making my way around. I had thrown away my bottle and held only the rosary that mother had given me before I left for California. I had my crew and I heard the announcer start to go through all that races that I ran to get here and acknowledge each of the members of my crew. Then I was alone again, with 200 feet to go the crew goes right and I stayed straight to go through the finish. With a few more steps and a few tears it was over, I had made the journey in 28 hours 1 minute and a few seconds. In my dreams before the race I never planned on it taking this long, but I was happy in the knowledge that I had done all I could and really feel like it was a miracle that I finished at all. And it never would have happened without Brynna, Wes, Jeff, Philip, Sarah, and Matt.

No Hands Bridge Aid Station

The Climb up Robie Point

The Crew with me on the Last Hill

Crossing the Line

After crossing the line, unsurprisingly they led me straight to the medical tent. Fortunately, all I needed after they saw my vitals were ok, was to lay down for a moment and try and cool off. They gave me a cot, packed me with ice, and told me to keep drinking water until I peed. Mostly I needed to pee at some point as the last time was sometime before the river crossing and it was now the middle of the next day. My crew came up and asked me how I was doing and I told Brynna that I wanted to see Shannon and find out how he was. She told me that he was on his way. At this point I am guessing I nodded off for a moment (guess I was more tired than I thought) because it seemed like almost immediately he was there. There was a lot of emotion while Shannon and I talked. I wish he could have finished with me, and I wish his race had gone better, but that is why we do this and we knew something like this could have happened to either one of us. The real difference in running a 100-mile race is that you can do everything right and still not finish. Sometimes it is just not in the cards. However, I was glad to have him there now and happy we got that moment. After a while on the cot, it was time to find the showers and get changed. The walk across the field was slow and hot but we made it, and without too much trouble I got cleaned up and headed back up to the track to see time expire for the race. In the final moments of the race one of the oldest competitors at age 72 entered the track. With 200 yards to go and only 30 seconds left on the clock every was going crazy. He tried to run in as hard as he could even falling a few times, but just short of the line time expired. The crowd was going crazy and he covered the distance but he would not be among the official finishers of the race, and would not receive a buckle. But I still feel like he most likely found something much more rewarding in that journey. To cap it off during the award ceremony later that afternoon one of the runners who had won an automatic entry into next year’s race gave it up to that runner so he could try again. I ask you guys is there a better group of people in the world than Ultrarunners? After the buckles and awards had been passed out, and everyone started to make their way away from the high school, a strange calm came over the whole group. We had been exposed to so many amazing things this week we knew it would take a while for it all to sink in. For now, the only thing to do was to go get something to eat and head back to Squaw Valley and see if we could find this sleep everyone keeps talking about.

Waiting for a home LOL

Finally in my Hands

Pip Doing what he does best.

Back in the condo we just tried to chill out and sort through the disaster we had made of the rental car and or supplies. I made my way to the couch and soon Wes joined me with a big bowl of ice cream. I have never been much for ice cream but it looked pretty good right then. I told him so and soon he came back with the carton (about half full) with a big spoon sticking out of it. I ate every bite and then woke up on the couch 11 hours later. A pretty good end to the day, LOL. By the time I got up I was somewhat hungry but it would be almost a week before my stomach issues settled down and I started to feel normal again, I had lost almost 20 pounds during the race. For now, I was just trying to eat what I could and before long we were rushing around packing a cleaning up to head to the airport. The trip was coming to an end. I hated to see that, I wish we could just always spend time together like this but we all had responsibilities and homes to get back to. And just like that the trip was over, the race was over, this journey was over. I have a big shiny belt buckle to show for it, but more importantly for me I have these memories that I get to keep with me about the race and the week leading into it. Butt sliding down ski slopes with Pip, looking for otters playing in the river with Sarah, seeing beavers instead with Wes. Those memories mean everything to me, and who knows maybe Team Coyote will never take a trip like this again but a will be forever grateful that the Buffalo, Badger, Hare, Turtle, Horse, Squirrel (animal that I came up with for Matt) and Coyote at least got this journey. I can never truly repay any of my crew, or the volunteers, or the people associated with the race enough for this opportunity. Nor the countless others who made this journey happen, but I will spend a good amount of my life try to do just that. Until next time Go Run Tulsa, if running give you even a fraction of what it has given me you will be glad you did.

 

The Buckle