OK...this is gonna be long...like Moby Dick long. Seriously. Really
long.
I wrote it with the intent of sticking it into a scrapbook & letting
my great-grandchildren read it to me when I'm in a
wheelchair...hopefully while I'm crewing Badwater or something. No
apologies...I'm not a good editor.

I don't usually get nervous for races. In fact, I usually get a
great night's sleep the eve of "the big event". This one wasn't much
different in that respect…a nice dinner, some final gear
preparations, & a visit to the hotel's hot tub (well, the hot tub
was a new touch…the previous 100 miler was spent in a tent). What
was significantly different, were the butterflies that invaded my
stomach in the two weeks leading up to this race.
It started when I received the official race brochure in the mail –
a fully produced glossy-paged affair that told of the history, the
legends, the lore, the aid stations, the volunteers, the terrain, &
the list of this year's entrants. I had seen that list before, & I
always had a pang whenever I saw my name….or rather when I saw the
next name…Jorge Pacheco. Alphabetically he comes after me (even the
pronunciation is similar), but he always finishes well ahead of me.
As the previous winner of Angeles Crest & Rocky Raccoon, he's in
another league…the elite. I scanned the list a little closer &
started to recognize names. More elites. More recognizable hardcore
runners.The who's-who of trail running. Gulp. How did I get myself
into this? I'll tell ya…
I finished the Cascade Crest Classic 100 last year. Doing so, allows
one to qualify for the Western States but qualifying is followed by
a lottery. Like the classic way of the Boston Marathon, everyone who
races Western States has proven him/herself at another venue. Unlike
Boston, the limit is below the number of applicants. A "lucky" 400
runners names are drawn…about a 45% chance of getting in.

In the days leading up to the race, my wife (&
nutritionist/crew/psychotherapist) & I would often get "Good Luck at
Western States!" comments as we gathered gear in our local
community. That wasn't so much of a concern as the "We'll be
following you on the Internet!" comments. The race has a live
broadcast on the `net & this year (for the first time), the racers
would wear electronic chips that would track us at various points
along the course. I was gonna be watched! I decided that there was
no use in fighting technology, so I turned to my friends in the
cyber-community – a rogue bunch of runners that talk about
everything except running…the gang at the "ClubHouse".
The ClubHouse (or as it's affectionately known…the CH) has a
reputation of being quite clannish, spirited & …well…abrasive. I
vented my nervousness & made a comment about how sometimes to get
through a long run, I imagine specific people along the course.
Somehow it enables me to get over the longevity (& monotony) by
breaking the course into smaller chunks…I'll run from one "person"
to the next. The CH glommed onto the idea & suddenly the forum
members were claiming various miles on the course as theirs. In all,
there were over 50 participants…I had to get a list drawn up because
there was no way to memorize every mile marker (with the exception
of the crew of gals that were going to…um…encourage me at mile 97
with a virtual flash!).
In a very generous & enthusiastic offer, one of the CH members…
RocketPack…offered his help at various aid stations during the race.
This was a huge load off of our shoulders as we were worried about
night safety at some of the various checkpoints. RocketPack – a
local - was a welcome addition to the crew…now 2 strong!

With the kids sent off to Gramma's house & our rear ends firmly
planted on a jet, Manon & I were off to Sacramento. We arrived,
hopped into our rental car & headed through town. There was more
nervousness, more last minute gear shopping at REI, & then we were
on our way to Squaw Valley…the location of the hotel & the race
start in 2 days.

We made it to Squaw in the late afternoon & after checking into the
monstrous suite (2 bedrooms, 2 baths, & a full kitchen!), we checked
out the Village. It reminded me of what Whistler was like 18 years
ago…compact, quiet, & comfortable. Three things stood out…the number
of extremely fit people, the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, & the
size of the mountain looming ahead...the first miles of the race. We
had a few more last minute things to buy (camping chairs for the aid
station breaks, a cooler, & groceries), so we made the 5 mile drive
to Tahoe City & enjoyed a great Mexican meal at the Blue Agave (I
allowed myself a lone beer). Finally I was relaxing.

We got back to the hotel & started preparing the various drop-bags
that would go to specific aid stations along the course. Some bags
simply contained a can of Ensure (a liquid meal replacement) & a
change of socks, while others were filled with long sleeve shirts,
spare shorts, spare shoes, cans of espresso shots, hats, headlamps,
& spare batteries. We finally got it all done by 10:00pm. All of the
wondering & work was done. Now all I wanted to do was get on the
trail & run. The butterflies finally left.

The next morning started out a little different than usual. Usually,
I would have ingested a rather large latte by 8:00am. This was the
day when all of the racers had to show up & get their pulse, blood
pressure & weight checked before they were tagged with a hospital-
type ID bracelet. Ron, a running buddy (& 7 time veteran of Western
States), had loaded me with heaps of information about the race.
Among the tips, he had mentioned that the weigh-in should be done
before wolfing down a monstrous breakfast - lest my body weight be
skewed…a critical error should one fall 7% below their pre-race
weight at one of the weigh-in points on the course. It would be
cause for medical concern & immediate removal from the race. I wore
light weight clothing & measured my toothpaste carefully that
morning (kidding!).

The line-up for the medical check/ racer check-in was already quite
long at 9:00am…I guess everyone had figured the breakfast part out.
Among the group of runners, I immediately recognized 6 time winner
Scott Jurek. Directly in front of me was Badwater champ (& fellow
Canuck) Monica Scholz. We all shuffled forward & conversations
flowed as people recognized each other (or their race shirts) from
various races around the continent, or simply chatted with whomever
was around. I happened to strike up a conversation with a fellow
from Boise. Like me, it was also his first time at Western States.

We shuffled into the cafeteria building & after giving our name to
some volunteers, we were promptly handed our goodie bags. Let me
tell you something about the goodie bags!!!! Nothing at Western
States is half-way…as we worked our way down the goodie table, we
felt like kids at Halloween! First of all, the bags were these
gorgeous North Face Recon backpacks. Then they started to hand out
the schwag! First there was a WS100 short sleeve technical shirt,
then a WS100 long sleeve shirt. This was followed by huge handfuls
of cherry flavoured prune packs, a copy of TrailRunner, & a copy of
Ultrarunning!! I thought "I don't need to do the race, I came here
just for the schwag!!".

The weigh-in provided me with a couple of surprises. First off, my
heart rate was at 70! Normally it's around 55. My look of shock must
have been obvious as the nurse asked where I was from. "Vancouver",
I said. "Ah! You live at sea level. You're at altitude now." Hmm.
The other surprise was my weight. With the exception of the Lost
Souls race that I did 1 ½ years ago, I never weigh myself. I was
shocked to discover that I didn't weigh 175 pounds as I had thought…
at 6'-0", I was now at 187½!!! Dang! The gym had bulked me up a bit…
no big deal, but a surprise nonetheless.

Once the vitals were out of the way, I was handed the timing chip
that I would strap around my ankle & instructed on how to use it –
"Strap it around your ankle." Simple enough. Manon & I then headed
back into the Village for breakfast & a huge cup of coffee. The rest
of the morning was spent taking photos under the start line clock
(which was counting down the time to the start of the race…at this
point, just over 17 hours), putting the drop bags in their
appropriate piles (to be whisked off to the various aid stations), &
then a little shopping at the Western States Store - a makeshift
bazaar in the Gondola building. I made out with a small dent in my
credit card…a technical shirt, a couple of shirts for my crew, a DVD
from a previous WS100, a signed copy of Dean Karnazes book, & a
waist belt.

The waist belt was a last minute change to my race gear. My reliable
old waist belt was beyond reliable & I didn't want to worry about
anything the night before the race, so I picked up this simple belt.
No bells or whistles, just a simple Nathan double pouch that would
hold a blister kit, some food, & a clip for a gel flask & another
for my MP3. Everything would fit up front so that I wouldn't have to
fumble around for stuff. In addition, I would run with 2 hand-held
water bottles.

After some more relaxing, we headed to the outdoor area where the
pre-race briefing was to take place and we bumped into a fellow
CoolRunner & ultrarunner…Katie! Although we had chatted on the
ultrarunning forum for a couple of years, we had never had the
opportunity to meet. It was great to
finally meet her, & we chatted like old friends. Katie had just run
the Big Horn 50 the previous week, & her story is just amazing!
Katie's husband would be running as Safety Patrol on the course…just
a week after he ran the 100 mile version of Big Horn!! Katie would
be crewing for a friend, so we hoped to see her during the course of
the race.We also bumped into a couple of friends from Vancouver that
were also in the race. George was racing it, & he had an elite crew –
his wife Gail, & friends Rob & Sally…aeach of whom had run Western
States previously.It's always nice to see familiar faces at times
like this…it sorta confirms the "Are we really here?!!!" excitement.

The crowd started to grow as it got closer to briefing time, & Mrs
Manon recognized a couple of guys that she had met during Cascade
Crest last year. Similar to last year, they were crewing for their
uncle. It made me realize another special thing about this race…the
number of non-racers that are involved. Most racers have a crew.
Some as small as a single person, while others had as many as 6
people! On top of that, the Western States gets over 1300
volunteers!!! That's more than a 4 to 1 ratio of volunteer to racer!
The famed Rucky Chucky River crossing alone, uses over 200
volunteers!! That was humbling.

Once the briefing was underway, it became evident that this was not
your average 100 miler. There was an aura of tradition everywhere –
not the least of which was the fact that Gordy Ainsleigh (the man
who started the whole thing some 32 years ago when he decided that
he could do the course without his horse…of course) was present &
giving chiropractic adjustments to anybody willing to line-up. Cow-
Man A-Moo-Ha, the second person to complete the distance, was
leaning against a tree behind us.

When Dr Lind did his presentation on the effects of running 100
miles, he underscored his point by reminding us that this race was
sponsored by no less than 4 county hospitals, & Tylenol. We were
also advised that we could voluntarily get our blood analyzed post-
race so that any renal failure could be detected before it became
critical. This was comforting…I suppose?

Greg Soderland, the race director then did the formal introduction
of the top 10 men & women. It was very interesting to see the
variety of body types that make an elite ultrarunner…you could
almost pick 10 random people out of a crowd & get the same thing.

Once the ceremony was over, Manon & I headed into Tahoe City to get
away from all the hoopla. It was a bit difficult to totally escape
from the race, because wherever we went, there were telltale signs
of the race – usually the obvious yellow wristbands on fellow
racers. We eventually went back to the hotel for a short rest before
dinner. All I had left to do was to lay out my day-of-race gear,
fill my water bottles, & load the main duffle bag that would be
glued to Manon's side for the duration of the race. It contained all
sorts of foot care products, & extra clothing that I might need at
the aid stations at which we had planned to meet. A final call to
RocketPack confirmed that he & Manon would meet somewhere for the 55
mile mark before it got dark the next night. This brings us back to
the hot tub. A final moment of relaxation before hitting the hay
early (9:00pm), &
the 3:00am wake-up call.

Race morning came too fast. I had slept quite well, but even the
excitement of the race wasn't enough to get me out of the comfort of
the bed without hitting the snooze button once or twice. Breakfast
was fruit & porridge, but the race organizers pulled some serious
strings when they convinced the Squaw Valley Starbucks to open it's
doors for race morning…at 3:30am!!! Heaven in a cardboard cup!!! We
made our way to the Gondola building in the darkness, not really
believing that the sun would come out shortly, or that I would
eventually see the track at Placer Highschool some 100 miles away.

The cafeteria/final check in area filled quickly as racers poured
in. It was cool outside & everybody wanted to remain warm before the
start. Manon & I found a spot to sit down on a wide window shelf.
The fellow that sat next to me happened to be wearing a Lost Souls
race shirt… what a
coincidence, a fellow Canadian - Doug. We started talking & quickly
discovered that we both knew fellow CoolRunner, Ed-Bill!! With 10
minutes to start time, people started to stretch out outside. Manon
& I got some last minute pictures with fellow Vancouverites Dave &
Louise. I had bumped into them on several training runs & even ran
with them at an ultra earlier in May. Dave & Louise were in their
first 100 miler & planned on running it together. We all run at
about the same pace, so we wished each other luck & assumed that we
would cross paths over the next several miles.

As I made my way to the start area, I bumped into someone that I had
not expected to see…our very own Bruce Grant was milling about. I
knew that he wasn't in the race, but I had no idea that he'd be in
Squaw Valley. Turns out that he & Martha didn't plan on it either…
until 8:30pm the previous night when they decided to catch a flight
to Reno & "drop in to say Hi!". They made it to George & Gail's
hotel suite by 2:30am!! This was gonna be fun!

Finally I was in the Start area!! The excitement was absolutely mind-
blowing. Knowing the ability of the racers that were in this field,
I positioned myself about ¾ of the way back in the crowd…no, I was
not about to sprint out with Jurek, Karnazes, or Twietmeyer! A quick
glance around put a small knot in my stomach – immediately to my
left, was the legendary Hans Dieter Weisshar…immediately in front of
me was Monica Schloz…touching my right shoulder was some hippy type
guy…Gordy Ainsleigh himself!!! Keerist! I didn't think I was far
back enough! It was still pitch black out, & with 10 seconds left,
the countdown was on & we were off…like a herd of turtles.

The initial 4 miles climb steeply (2500') up to Emigrant Pass, & the
only ones running were the elite at the front of the pack. Everyone
else was making a well paced trudge towards the top. Flashbulbs went
off in the dark as we headed up the gravel service road & well-
wishers lined the first mile up the mountain. Manon snapped my
picture as I matched strides with Hans Dieter (!). Within a few
more strides, I was walking with Doug (the guy from Lost Souls) & we
chatted as we climbed. Doug's wife is an experienced 100 miler & I
remembered her epic 39 hour finish at Lost Souls…unbeknownst to her,
she was a major inspiration in getting me into the 100 miler genre.
We finally made it up to the pass just after daylight broke. Doug's
wife had hiked all the way up to this water station to see him &
she already busy doling out water to racers.

The next section took us through a brief singletrack climb that got
us to our first patch of snow…a rather large patch about 600' long.
Rumour was, that we should expect about 10 miles of snow in the high
country. I saw one woman take a hard fall on some melt water that
had frozen overnight…not the best way to start off a 100 miler. She
got up quickly, but it was obvious that the fall was painful. The
rest of us took it as a lesson & proceeded with caution. We wound up
& over the pass, then hit some wonderful alpine singletrack. It was
hard to keep my eyes on the task at hand, because the sunrise over
distant Lake
Tahoe was spectacular. Within a few hundred feet, we had crossed a
ridge & we were now on the shady side of the mountain. It was cooler
on this side, but that meant that the snow was still hard. This was
great news despite the traction problems, it meant that we wouldn't
be fighting through the slop of heavy wet snow. The downhill
sections really separated the Southerners from the Northerners, as
those familiar with the white stuff were able to make up some good
time on a familiar medium. At this point I was chatting with a gal
(Shan) who turned out to be from Austin Texas. I commented that she
was pretty adept on the snow for a Texan. She mentioned that she was
originally from Minneapolis. Ah! As we talked, it turned out that we
had a mutual acquaintance…Liam (aka Polarbear) from Austin! The
ultraworld is truly a small one!

I tend to be quite chatty in the first few miles of these races.
Part of it is the adrenaline, but the other part is that it is a way
of keeping my pace down. I figure that if I have to talk, then I
won't likely go too fast. Many other racers had the same strategy &
since we were still in a rather long pack, the
conversations were quite hilarious, if not a bit disjointed. At some
point, I found myself right behind Monica Scholz & introduced myself
as a fellow Canadian. She responded quite genuinely & when I asked
her if she planned on doing Badwater, we started to talk about the
Canadians that were going to be there this year. I had heard a lot
of things about Monica & she has always been described as genuinely
approachable & friendly. Well, it's true. We would run together on &
off for the next 30 miles & she always had a smile on her face.

Doug & I pulled into Lyon Ridge aid station (11.5 mile) together,
but he decided that he needed to strip off some extra layers & would
hopefully catch up later. I grabbed a handful of pretzels & put them
into a zip-lock baggy so that I could munch on the run. The sun was
out, & the snow was spread out in large patches.I ran up & over the
ridge & as I passed the landmark Cougar Rock, I caught up to a small
group of 4 racers. Among them was a shirtless Gordy Ainsleigh. Don't
let the long grey hair & Santa's beard fool you...this guy is built
like a 30 year old. We clambered over the next ridge & flew through
the winding downhill (with banked corners at the switchbacks!) into
Red Star Ridge aid station (17 miles). It was another quick turn
through the aid station as I had heard that it's easy to eat up a
whole lot of time within the 25 aid stations (at 2 minutes per aid
station, that could add up to almost an hour at the finish!).

As I left Red Star Ridge I noticed the placard with the cut-off &
split times on it. Somehow I was on the cusp of the 30 hour cut-
off!! The RD had mentioned that they would allow an extra hour to
the cut-off times in the first 55 miles due to the snow, but we'd
have to make it back up in the second half. This really concerned
me, as I am generally not at the back of the pack, & I was hoping
to "just" run this race on my own terms & had never considered that
the cut-offs would be a factor. Now I was faced with possibility of
being pulled from the race, despite the fact that I was physically
fine! I was in a funk & it was only 4 hours into the race! I decided
that I would continue at my clip, but that I would push a bit
more on the downhills – my strength. I put my headphones on & set my
MP3 on the random mix that I had called "WS100". It was 9:30am my
feet were already soaked from the snow & the sun was getting warm.
The first song on the mix was the Violent Femmes "Blister in the
Sun"…good gawd, I hoped this wasn't an omen!

About an hour of running on open fire road finally brought me to the
first major aid station & the first time that I would see Manon
since the start. Robinson Flat (24 ½ miles) was a virtual culture
shock! After 5 ½ hours of running through the high country, I came
upon a scene sensory
overload…there were hundreds of people cheering & clapping. I was
very happy to see that, with very little adaptation to my plan, I
was now on time for the 24 hour pace. That was more like it!
Appropriately enough, my MP3 was now playing the Pixies "Here Comes
Your Man". After a brief stop for my first weigh-in (I had gained 1
pound), & a grab at some food, I met with Manon & swapped out my gel
flask for some more Ensure. It was great to see her, & after she
passed me the first of many lists (the ones with the CH mile markers)
all too soon I was back on the trail.
This next section – the Little Bald Mountain loop – was a short one,
but the first half was covered in snow…& it was getting sloppy.
Several racers threaded a line through the snow & trees, & I felt
right at home during the relatively brief climb up to Little Bald.
The chatter was a whole lot les than at the start of the race, but
everybody still seemed to be enjoying things so far. There are two
things that I know about mountain races – at least as far as my own
physical being goes. First, when I get over a certain altitude I
tend to get a bit nauseated & a slight headache. Secondly, I tend to
get my low-point (everybody has one in a race of this length) at
about the 30 mile mark - that's when the stomach seems unsettled,
the energy wains, & the distance seems to overwhelm me. At this
point, I was approaching both personal cruxes, so I wasn't surprised
to feel my head hurt & my stomach flip around. I just accepted it,
and slowed down my pace accordingly. Some people passed me, but I
was OK with that. I got to the aid station at Little Bald (28 ½
miles) in just over an hour. Manon was waiting for me there with a
fresh pair of socks, my lightweight gaitors (to keep the dust out of
my shoes), & some fresh (& dry) shoes. As I changed into some comfy
footwear, Doug flew past as did Monica. My longish break, & the
slowed pace had brought my timing over the 24 hour pace, but at this
point, I had expected it. No big deal.

The next third of the course would bring us all down into the hotter
section of the race known as the Canyons. Basically it's a series of
big drops & equally big climbs as the course traverses 3 major
canyons over the next 27 miles. The canyons are known to be stifling
hot & we were heading into them at the hottest point of the day. It
was barely noon. Back home, we had an unusually cool spring so the
heat kind of had me concerned. In an effort to remain cool, I ran on
the shady side of the trail as often as possible. Monica caught back
up with me as we got to Deep Canyon (34 miles) aid station, & this
was a bit surprising since I had seen her way ahead of me
earlier. "What are doing here?" I asked. "Relative to where?" was
her lawyerly reply. "I thought you were up ahead"…"Bodily function
issues…at least I know that everything's working!". Ah! She took a
little longer at that aid station, while I grabbed some more
pretzels, & melon to go. Doug was leaving the aid station at the
same time, so we took the opportunity to chat a bit more. The nausea
had passed a little while ago...the sudden drop in altitude helped a
lot (about 2000').

As we continued on, there was a familiar "Hello!" as Louise
(remember her?…another Vancouver runner) caught up to us. I enquired
as to where Dave was & she mentioned that he was nauseous early on
in the race & they were very close to the cut-off. They opted to
change their plan of running together, & she pulled ahead while he
dealt with his stomach & the possibility of being pulled from the
race. Ouch! We were running well together, & at one point Monica
caught up & then passed us. Out of the 11 Canadians in the race, 4
of us were running in a tight bunch. Soon enough, Louise & I had our
own rhythm going. We pulled through Dusty Corners (38 miles) at
nearly 2:00pm. It was getting pretty hot, so after getting some food
& water, we took advantage of the ice-water sponges & soaked our
shirts & buffs. That felt great! The descent into Last Chance (43
miles) saw us flying down the steep switchbacks & singletrack. We
must have passed about 15 runners. Louise is a very strong runner, &
I love downhills so we had no issue with the pace. In fact Louise
inquired whether it would be OK (if all went well) if we ran
together to the finish. I felt pretty confident on the descent &
agreed that I was fine with it, but to expect the unexpected. We had
raced together before & trained on the same courses so I knew that
our pace was similar. We bottomed out at Deadwood Canyon (46 miles)
after a steep 2500' drop in a mere 3 miles!!!

The climb out of that canyon started off with a ridiculously steep
set of 36 switchbacks – 1500' in 1 ½ miles!!! It was then that I
felt something shift. Suddenly my legs felt empty…like they do at
the end of a race when I'd given everything. I told Louise that I'd
have to slow my pace a bit. She obliged. A few feet later, my
stomach was churning & I felt cool. Uh oh! This was not normal. I
knew to expect low points, but this was different…I was concerned. I
told Louise that I needed to stop for a few minutes & to carry on up
without me. She said she would get to the aid station & wait for me
there. I told her that was very nice, but not to wait too long since
I didn't know how long I would take to recover. I stopped at one of
the switchbacks…a point that allowed other runners to pass with
ease, while I sat on a relative flat spot & stared at the ground.
The aid station was at the top of this climb, but I wasn't sure how
long it would take me. In fact, I wondered if I was looking at the
final miles of my race. I must have been there for 20 minutes before
I finally got up & trudged towards the aid station. My legs were
still fried & a wave of emotion came over me. I was so upset that I
wouldn't get to see all the classic latter portions of the course…no
river crossing, no bridge, no track, no seeing Manon in the night. I
finally got to the Devil's Thumb aid station (48 miles) & walked
straight to the medical tent as a concerned volunteer handed me my
drop bag. I sat in a lawn chair & stared at my feet…looked at the
poor soul next to me…he was wrapped in a space blanket & shivering…
debated what to do. I decided that dropping out was in order, but
not here. Devil's Thumb is remote & dropping at this point meant
spending the night in a tent. My wife would kill me! Actually, I
would rather be with her if I dropped & I was thinking of RocketPack
as well. He had driven up from Sacramento all psyched to help out &
I was going to drop out before even meeting him! I figured that I
should recover enough to get moving & then make my way to Michigan
Bluff (55 miles). It'd be a better place to pull out. A volunteer
suggested some gingerale to settle my stomach. I took a couple of
cups, & had an Ensure from my drop bag. I knew things weren't right
when I just stared at my can of Starbucks espresso doubleshot &
didn't consider it. After about 15 or 20 minutes, I handed it to the
volunteer & said "Thanks! The gingerale was a great idea.". I
checked out of the aid station and started a slow trot down the
trail. The last 4 miles had taken 1 ½ hours!

Carefully, I picked up my trot to something resembling a run.
Something inside me got very upset & I became extremely ticked off.
The thought of simply quitting because I hurt wasn't good enough. I
had worked so hard to get here. My wife & family had worked so hard
for me to get here. I knew that if I simply dropped out due to
discomfort, that I would feel better a few hours later, & then I
would suffer through "What if…" for the next year. I remembered a
quote "Pain is temporary. Quitting is forever". If I wasn't going to
finish, I would go out with a fight….either pulled from the race
because of the cut-off, or in a heap on the trail because I couldn't
put one foot in front of the other. It wasn't going to be me pulling
myself out.

I started a cautious descent into the next canyon, & shadowed a
group of runners ahead. Even in this state, I was doing a decent
downhill. I would catch up to the runners, then slow down to a walk
& let them get ahead. Right now, my only goal was to get to Michigan
Bluff. The pacing got my stomach back on track, but at the bottom of
the canyon, I was concerned about the 1800' climb to Michigan Bluff…
only 3 miles. Then another gear switched. As I started the climb, I
was surprised that the dead quads were suddenly feeling great! I
thought it might only be temporary, so I took advantage of the
freshness & pushed up the hill at a comfortable clip. I don't know
what exactly had happened, but I was feeling great! I started to
pass runners as I climbed. The more I climbed, the stronger I felt.
All of a sudden I was in a different body. Was this a second wind?
Would it last? I just motored up the hill & ran some of the less
steep parts. Still a short way out from the aid station, I made the
decision that I would finish. I no longer was trying to get a
specific time…I was simply going to enjoy this race & take it all in…
as long as it took. If I felt great, I would go for it, but I'd pace
myself for maximum enjoyment. After all, this was Western States!!
Another wave of emotion came over me, this one was good. I could now
imagine the finish line...interesting how things can change so
quickly.

I could hear the aid station crowd well before I saw it. I popped
onto a gravel road & then around some homes & there it was. Just
like Robinson Flats, Michigan Bluff was packed with crew,
spectators, volunteers, & the smell of burgers! Civilized! I must
have had a grin a mile wide on my face! I was directed to another
weigh-in (I had only lost ½ pound!), then I saw Manon & finally
RocketPack. It was great to see the two of them, & I don't think
that they understood what had happened only a few miles back. I must
have sounded like a babbling idiot as I excitedly talked about the
course, who was out there, the heat, how was everybody, etc…Manon
tended to some of my blisters while I ate some food (my appetite was
back). Katie showed up along with some of my Vancouver friends (the
crew). What a great place to hang out. Doug came through the aid
station rather quickly & apparently Louise was about 20 minutes
ahead. I discussed the next canyon section with Katie & RocketPack
as I was concerned whether I would make it to the next aid station
before nightfall…the canyon would be dark earlier. Katie had a spare
flashlight, so Iopted to pack it along…just in case. Of the
Vancouver crew, Bruce offered to pace me later on if I wished. I was
feeling pretty good & I am used to running alone. It was a very
generous offer, but I told him that I would be OK.

I really hated getting out of that chair, but I figured that I would
make the most of whatever daylight was left & enjoy my recovered
spirit. I ran along the spectator lined street. People cheered &
clapped. One fellow mentioned that I was one of the only runners
that he had seen running up that section of road. Maybe it was true,
or maybe it was the ultra version of "Looking good!"…a white lie.
Regardless, I was feeling fresh & set out to get into Foresthill
before dark. Running along that 7 mile stretch felt great. The mile
of road that led to the aid station was lined with parked cars,
spectators in lawn chairs, & screaming kids…what a hoot.
I made it into Foresthill aid station (62 miles) just as the sun
went behind the hills (about 8:45pm), & was escorted in by a grass
skirt clad woman with a coconut bra. This was a fun place!

Another weigh-in revealed that I was still only ½ pound shy of my
original weight…perfect. RP & Manon readied me for the last third of
the race…& the nighttime. This was also the main area where runners
could pick up a pacer…someone that could accompany them through the
latter parts of the course. I put on some fresh socks, my headlamp &
I was gone. I wouldn't see either of them until mile 79. As much as
I love downhills, I also love running at night & had done several
solo runs, so I was rather looking forward to this part...downhill &
night together. I managed to hold off the headlamp for quite some
time after dusk & my legs were feeling good. Eventually it got pitch
black & I fired up the light. It was an interesting part of the run…
I would look down, or over, or across & see the telltale glow of
fellow runners on various parts of the course. I put my MP3 back on
for some mood…Tito Puente put me in a party kind of mood. The
Dardanelles aid station (66 miles) was illuminated with Xmas lights
& was quite festive. At some point I passed Doug & mentioned that I
was feeling much better, but I didn't want to slow down for fear
that I might not get back in the groove.

It was about 11:15pm when I pulled into a small aid station called
Peachstone (70 miles). As I was drawn in by the string of lights, I
heard someone say "Are you Mudrunner?" Hunh!? Who knows me as
Mudrunner? "I'm Ekenyp!" she said…it sounded like a couple of spies
meeting in the forest, but it was such a nice place to finally meet
a "virtual friend" from the Runner's World Ultrarunning forum.
Elizabeth (her real name) was the nurse at the Peachstone aid
station…how great! I decided to sit down for a bit & chat..it's not
everyday that you meet an imaginary friend in the middle of nowhere…
at midnight, no less. I had some hot soup (my personal favourite
race food), some pretzels & some coke before excusing myself &
heading off further down the canyon towards the river. Another few
miles (& a couple of surprise uphills later), brought me to the
remote Ford's Bar aid station…more chit chat…more food…& I was off
again. There was just one last section before the famous Rucky
Chucky river crossing.

The hardpacked fire road was relatively flat, but I was finding it
hard on my feet. I slowed my pace a bit, but decided that going
faster woud be better…less time on that road! Rucky Chucky (78
miles) was an odd site. Imagine running in total darkness, save for
the moonlight…then you see the sweep of searchlights beyond tha
mountains & river to your left…then you turn a corner & there is
this flood lit oasis in the middle of a river valley…& and several
hundred people!!! There are two aid stations here. Because there is
a river to get across, an aid station is planted on either side. The
near side had the mandatory weigh in. The far side had my drop bag
with spare clothing & shoes. Due to the enormous amount of snow in
the mountains, the river was swollen with enough meltwater to
increase it's volume to eight times it's normal size!!! Crossing
through what is normally hip-deep water was not an option. Instead
we were to be ferried across…4 at a time…in an inflatable raft. I
got to the crossing & found that Louise & her pacer were at the very
front. I asked how she was & she mentioned that she was a bit
nauseous. By the time it was my turn to get into the raft, 30
minutes had gone by. Because I wasn't worried about my time, I
managed to enjoy watching (&listening) to the volunteers as they
heckled & laughed at the guy who was doing all of the rowing…he
seemed to be having a great ol' time. The water wa marked with
submerged glow sticks & the far side aid station was lit with Xmas
lights. As I got out at the far side & took off my life vest, I was
immediately handed my drop bag. I changed shoes for the last time,
threw on a long sleeve shirt, & sucked back a can of espresso. The
river valley was a funnel for cool air, & the wait didn't help.

After a brief chat with a volunteer (apparently the 2nd place runner
had proposed to his girlfriend at that spot earlier in the evening,
& spent the better part of an hour smooching), I headed up the fire
road for the short jaunt to the Green Gate aid station (79 miles) to
see Manon & RP. The climb was steep, but it warmed me in a hurry. I
got into the aid station & after a way-too-brief hello to my crew I
headed back into the forest. I found out later that Manon & RP had a
tough hike into that area & with that duffle bag! I felt bad for
leaving so quickly. On the way out someone told me to wait for my
pacer. I told them that I didn't have one & they said that I was one
of the first they had seen without a pacer.

I threw my MP3 player back on & enjoyed the winding singletrack
through the forest. This time, my music went onto something that was
a bit eerie but it kept my adrenaline going…there's nothing as
motivating as running through a dark forest…alone…at 3:00am…while
listening to Peter Gabriel's soundtrack to "The Last Temptation of
Christ"! Wow! Freaky, but motivating!

At mile 85 I pulled into Auburn Lake aid station. Only 15 miles
left. I was really looking forward to reaching another historic
portion of the race…No Hands Bridge. But that was still another
while away.

Shortly after leaving that aid station, I turned a corner in the
trail & saw 2 runners that had stopped. As I got closer, I
recognized Louise & her boyfriend (pacer). I enquired if everything
was alright, & Louise said that she was still nauseous & she was
having trouble keeping things down. We talked briefly about what she
had been eating, how she felt, & what she planned on doing. She was
going to continue on, but at a somewhat adapted speed. "Don't kill
yourself, you've got lots of time" I said. "No worries, I won't". I
also noticed that one of their flashlights wasn't working. I handed
them my spare. I figured that my headlamp had been fine until now,
so there was no reason to worry about a backup…besides, dawn would
arrive in an hour. I set off & wished them luck.
The next aid station started out as an audio-mirage. My headphones
were never on loud. In fact, I had them low enough that I could hear
footsteps behind me & I could chat at aid stations without adjusting
the volume (it's pretty quiet in the woods). I could hear music over
the sound of my own, so I shut off my MP3. The Rolling Stones were
blasting through the canyon. Wow! I was doing great time to the
Brown's Bar aid station (90 miles)! Well, as I got further along the
trail, the music would quiet down, then pick up again…louder.
Eventually I got to the aid station, but not until 3 whole songs had
played through & the sun started to brighten the sky! I swear the
volume was pegged at 11! At least the speakers were set several
hundred feet away from the aid station. But the music wasn't the
main concern…it was the greeting by the volunteers…men clad in red
dresses & large brassieres with water balloons in them!! Hash House
Harriers!! They figured that if we runner s could go for 24 hours,
then they would party for 24 hours…they were smashed!! "NO PACER!?"
one of them yelled.."WE GOT ONE WITHOUT A PACER? WHO NEEDS `EM?!"
yelled another…"GOOD ON YA!!" yelled a third.

I left that aid station knowing that only 1/10th of the race lay
ahead, & I made my way along the river while enjoying the second
sunset of the day. I was now going over 24 hours. As I winded my way
up another hill, I fell in with some other runners, but the chatting
was subdued & apparently everybody was looking forward to the
finish. I made my way through a group & eventually dropped down a
path & across Highway 49 (93 miles) to the final weigh-in (back at
my starting weight) & a good morning welcome from Manon & RP…they
apparently managed to catch an hour's sleep. It was shortly before
7:00am & I was eager to get to the finish. We chatted for a short
bit & then I was back on the course.
This final bit of trail had a good bit of downhill still to go, & I
was grateful for all of the specific training I had done for that
part. My legs were tired, but they still had strength left. I passed
a handful of runners a I made my way down & then I saw it…No Hands
Bridge…the gateway to the finsh line.

My elation was stifled when I looked across the canyon. The finish
area…the town of Auburn was at the top of that canyon…ugh! I crossed
the bridge & with only 2 ½ miles left, I tried to ingest every last
moment…even the final climb. This race has no "gimme's". Dean
Karnazes put it in perspective …the final 2 ½ miles climbs up 900'…
in Boston Marathon terms, that's 3 Heartbreak Hills…after having
already run 97 ½ miles.

So up I went. The final mile pops you onto the end of a paved road
in a residential neighborhood. The street is marked with painted
footprints that leave no doubt about where to go. Locals had written
words of encouragement in 4' letters across the street (my personal
favourite read "Gordy, get a horse!") & many homeowners were in
chairs on their driveways (some were already/still drinking beers at
8:20am). I got a standing ovation from one group when they saw that
I was running alone. At one point I found myself somewhat alone &
looking at a group of racers a couple of hundred feet ahead. My
competitive side wanted to speed up & pass them. My emotional side
made me slow down a bit. I wanted to do the final lap on the track
alone…not in a group. I wanted my very own moment. Tears were
welling up as I realized that the end of the journey was drawing
near. I hate finishes. My favourite moments on these long runs is
when I realize that the end is a given, & I can simply enjoy the
moment. I swear, one day, I will stop at that point & walk away from
the race…Not today, though. I had to get that finisher's buckle for
Manon.

I crossed a small bridge, turned a final corner & found myself
entering the Placer High Track. Manon was there to greet me. "Go for
your victory lap, Sweetheart!". I threw my water bottles & waist
pack onto the turf & ran the final 200 meters toward the Finish. As
I approached the line, I saw that the clock read 27:29:57…what the
heck…I might as well try to get in before the 30 minute mark (oy!).
Somehow, I still had a sprint left in me. I made it across the line,
but just shy. My official finishing time was 27:30:00. Not bad.

Manon, & RP were there & hugs went all around. I was also surprised
to see Ekenyp there…especially after volunteering all night at the
Peachstone aid station.
About 25 minutes later, Louise made it through…then within 10
minutes of that, Dave came through!!! Needless to say that we were
all ecstatic, if not somewhat tired.


If I haven't already said it, I will say it again…my crew was
amazing!!! Thank you so much RocketPack & Manon for getting
yourselves around that course all through the day & night.
Thanks to the ClubHouse for that tremendous
support/encouragement/humour...especially the Janglies! It was very
touching to discover…long after I had finished…that MiniDriver had
started a thread where the CH followed the trail of one of it's
members…& it was over 8 pages long!!!
Manon gets an enormous thanks for everything that she does. I don't
think I could express it in less than 3 pages, so I will tell it to
her in person & spare y'all the mushy stuff. Suffice to say that I
truly didn't run this alone.

Thanks for listenin'