MCKenzie River 50K

I seemed to be on a roll as McKenzie turned out to be another good run for me. My recovery after Waldo was going well so when the chance to enter the McKenzie River 50K came, I jumped on it. McKenzie is another local race that is well run, competitive, has plenty of history, and is incredibly beautiful. We in Eugene are lucky to have such great races so close to home. Many of the racers, their friends and family stayed in Ice Cap campground the night before the race, so I enjoyed an evening of laughter and campfires. I was thankful for the late(ish) 7:30 start however, I didn’t sleep all that well and probably would have been ready to go at 5:00. Due to a bridge replacement project at the Carmen reservoir and construction at the Ranger Station, the race course was modified this year. The race started up in the Ice Cap campground, the turnaround was extend (uphill) on the Santiam Wagon road, and the finish came prior to passing Paradise campground but instead took us uphill on a gravel road for about a half mile before a quarter mile downhill to the finish.

At the start Jeremy Tolman, Steve Richards, and I decided to take the lead. Jeremy was leading us quickly up the trail towards Clear Lake. After a brief wrong turn towards the waterfall overlook (I think I did that last time also), we rearranged our order and Steve took the lead. The three of us stayed together up through the lava field on south side of Clear Lake. The twisty-turny technical sections are slow but don’t seem too bad when you are running them. However, as the day progresses you realize they really take a toll on your body. At the north end of the lake we turned right onto the out and back portion of the course and started passing the early starters. At the Santiam Wagon Road aid station (6.1mi.) I met Tom Atkins who took my warm cloths, and gave me my water bottle. We then had a short out and back section along the road that took us a short ways uphill.

During this whole first hour together the three of us were having a good time joking and taking in the scenery. We were of course wondering the whole time how the rest of the race would unfold. On the west side of Clear Lake Steve met his crew and stopped to exchange some clothing, and I think decided to back off a bit for a while. From that point on Jeremy and I were on our own.

Like Waldo, I made a real effort to stay on top of my fluids, calories, and sodium. Jeremy led the entire way, and I felt comfortable just drifting up and back depending on our various trail strengths or if I was fumbling around with gu’s. I always kept him in sight however.

I always feel a little guilty racing at McKenzie River because it is such a beautiful place. I gave a ½ second glance at the blue pool as we passed, but I really couldn’t spare more than that without tripping.

I had no idea what pace we were running. The pace felt comfortable from the Trail Bridge aid station all the way to the last aid station at Buck Bridge. I had hoped to beat my 3:44 time from four years ago, but based on how I felt, I wasn’t sure if that was going to happen. I had recovered well from the Waldo race three weeks ago, and I had a surprisingly good 10 mile steady run the week before. However I just didn’t have enough confidence in how my body would handle the late miles. I was content to focus on racing and not worry about the time. The great thing about having run a 100k recently is that this 50k was feeling short. I remember thinking “wow we only have an hour left of running”. Jeremy was still looking relaxed and I was starting to think about the end of the race. Tom met me at the Deer Creek aid station (23.5mi) and swapped bottles with me again. His work had saved me a lot of transition time through the aid stations. He wasn’t going to be able to meet me at Buck Bridge because he needed to go back and crew other friends. Jeremy and I only had about 7.5 miles to go and it was only 3.3 miles to the next aid station. The pace quickened. I decided I would fuel up, drink almost all of my fluid, take a few more S! Caps, and just blow through Buck Bridge. I knew I had a good hard 4 miles left in me. Jeremy was still looking relaxed and was also drinking a lot. I was starting to think he had the same plan. Things were going to be interesting.

As we approached Buck Bridge the trail widened and I was getting ready to go. Then suddenly Jeremy caught a root and went down! I didn’t know what to do, my body was starting to push and my head said to stop. It didn’t seem right to make a move when he was on the ground. I stopped, jogged back a few steps. He seemed ok, and was getting up so I jogged ahead. As he made his way over to exchange bottles with his crew, I decided it was ok to go and took off. I went hard to the finish and aside from some calf cramping it felt great. My final time was 3:35:14, second fastest time on the course. I had an awesome time and enjoyed seeing everyone else come in.

Where's Waldo 100K 2010

On my third attempt to run this race, I finally made it to the starting line not only healthy, but fit. Waldo this year meant a lot to me for many different reasons. It’s a high caliber competitive race with prize money, two Western States spots, and a part of the Montrail Ultra Cup series. Also it’s local—co-directed by my good friend Craig Thornley—and is a beautiful and challenging course. Most importantly, Waldo would be a trial for me. After my 2008 Western States experience, I endured an incredible period of self-doubt, and I set Waldo up as a litmus test—an indicator of my ability to run well at longer distances.

Courtney and I stayed in a hotel down in Oakridge with Sunsweet teammate Meghan the night before the race. On race day, I think Courtney was more nervous than I was. For the most part, I was just looking forward to spending the entire day running on the awesome wilderness trails. Megan had recently given me Brian’s (her husband) headlamp to use for the first section that would be in the dark. Brian passed away in early August, and using his light at the start of this great adventure felt symbolic and reassuring.

The climb up the ski hill felt comfortable. I loved looking back down the hill and seeing all the bouncing lights slowly working their way up the hill, and into the day ahead. Around five of us were loosely grouped together as we filtered through the Gold Lake aid station. Courtney met me near the road crossing and took my light and extra clothing. Lewis Taylor and another runner gapped us, and I didn’t see them again until nearly the top of the Mt. Fuji.

Tim Olson summited first, and then was gone. The picture to the left is possibly the last clear sighting of Tim anyone got until the Mt. Ray aid station. Part way down I stated getting reports about Tim: “He is about 2 minutes up… He has about 3 minutes on you… That guy was flying – he has about 7 minutes on you!” Officially, he had put 4 minutes on me in a little under 7 miles. Ouch. Courtney met me at Mt. Ray and I had some banana. Lewis was right behind me. I decided to work a bit on the grind up to the Twins aid station to see if the gap was for real or just a crazy downhill effort by Tim. By the Twins aid station—theme: Heaven and Hell—Tim had put another minute on me, so he was obviously was not just a great downhiller. I backed off a bit and felt a little relieved I was free to run my own race.

At Charlton aid station I met Courtney again. She gave me some chocolate milk, a banana, my second water bottle, and a hug. What else could I need? I was half way, feeling relaxed and in control. However, I knew that with the day warming up and the Twins & Maiden Climbs ahead, the hardest part of the course was still to come.

Shortly after the Charlton aid station I started to get some minor cramping in my calves. This slowed me down a bit, and I wasn’t able to take advantage of the downhill section into Road 4290 very well. I thought I had been taking enough salt and it was still fairly cool, so I figured I must be a dehydrated. I started drinking more, knowing I could refill both bottles soon at the 4290 aid station.

Out of the aid station, on my way to summit the Twins, the cramping wasn’t too bad because it was mostly flat and uphill. The Twins were work, but I felt like I kept the pace going well. Heading downhill to return to the Twins aid station I quickly realized that I hadn’t fixed the cramping and that is was now a big problem. I needed salt, and lots of it. I had been eating a little food at the aid stations and taking gels regularly which seem to be enough to keep my energy up, and my legs still felt good. Because of the cramping however, I felt like I really lost out on some good quick running down from the Twins to the Maiden Peak aid station. I had used up the last of my S! caps when I got to the aid station and they were able to give me four more, but only after some negotiation with the aid station captain.

The climb up Maiden peak was hard. I was able to keep a good hike/jog pace going for part way but as I got closer to the summit, I was really struggling just to hike. Eventually the trees started to thin, and I knew I was almost there. I was really looking forward to the short out and back near the summit. Maybe, just maybe, I would catch a glimpse of Tim (I didn’t) and I would get a chance to find out who might be behind me. No Tim, and no one within 9 minutes behind me. It would have been nice to see Tim, but this was once again my ticket to just run my own pace. I was feeling good again. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to catch me, and I didn’t have to kill myself trying to win.

At the Maiden Lake aid station I received a nice face wash from the volunteers and a one man pep rally from Ed Wilson. I still had some cramping on the way down, but after some extra S! Caps at the aid station I was ready to go. All things considered, including the the previous 54.5 miles, I felt fantastic on the last section. As I got closer, I realized I was not only going to break 10 hours but I would be way under. It was possible for me to be competitive at these longer distances and I could prevent myself from falling apart at the end.

I had passed my Waldo test with flying colors. Overall this was beautiful day on wonderful trails supported by some of my best friends… oh, and one more piece of good news: I didn’t get lost.

Mt Hood PCT 50 Mile

I signed up for this race early in the year and as the date rolled around it looked like I was going to be off backpacking with Courtney that weekend. Then our schedule changed (because I got a new job!) and I became available. I wanted to get in another long run/race prior to the Waldo 100K in late August. Waldo is fairly hard and I want to make sure I’m ready.

This was a last minute trip and I didn’t do to much planning, so I had hoped to just find a place to camp, do the run, and then drive home. I was told that all of the camp grounds were full, but being a national forest, the “campground” appeared to be nothing more than a bunch of dirt roads that wondered off to various camp sites. I had no problem finding a place to roll out my bag.

At the start of the race we all took off down a gravel road. After about 300 yards the leaders stopped and the entire race pack bunched up. “Does anyone know which way to go?” yelled someone towards the front of the pack. Turns out we missed the very first left and the whole bunch of us turned around and ran nearly back to the start. It was a funny start to the day.

The race was two out and backs along the PCT. It used to run up to the Timberline Lodge, but due to trail restrictions it was shortened and the second out and back was added. Four of us that found our way to the front of the pack and quickly put in a small gap on the rest of the group. I was trying to stay comfortable and found myself drifting up and back from the other three guys as they tested each other out. I have no idea why, but I was letting go of a lot of water early so I figured I need to salt up a bit. Nothing salty at the first aid station, but at the second they had some S-caps so I stocked up. I was feeling relaxed, taking small snacks at each of the aid stations and taking a gel around every 20 to 30 minutes. The first out and back was generally rolling uphill with a downhill section at the end. At the first turn around (mile 14) we were all mostly together, but I got out quickly and decided to push it just a tiny bit to see how the other guys would react. They were still feeling competitive, so I backed off and let someone else take the lead again. On the way back to the start / finish however, (mile 28) two of the runners fell off.

At the start/finish I downed about 1/3 of a quart of cool chocolate milk, grabbed a whole banana and headed out for the second part. I never felt rushed at the aid stations but did a good job of getting what I needed and getting out. I got the whole banana down while running easy out of the aid station. I was feeling relaxed, it was hot but shady, and I just got in some good calories with no problems. Things were looking good for the next 22 miles. The next section was almost entirely uphill to the Red Wolf pass. The race website called this aid station mile 32, but the aid station folks and my split put it closer to mile 36. The first place runner and I were chatting on and off the whole way and I was really glad to have a running partner. From here you descend quickly through some over grown areas and are deposited on a gravel road. We stopped and looked around for a while and at first didn’t see any other ribbons. Then we saw two hanging on the right side of the road and guessed we should go that way. We didn’t see that the trail continued down the hill about 50’ down the road. We set off on the road and settled into a quick but comfortable pace. I didn’t see any other ribbons which was a bit nerve racking but my partner remembered hearing that there was a difficult gravel road section. The road was exposed and hot. It dead ended at a paved road which seemed right, but our split was a little long and there was no aid station. We stopped once again and then headed back, trying to conserve what we had left of our water. We passed about five other runners on the road, which reassured all of us that we had actually gone the correct direction. About a mile of climbing away from the trail junction, my partner said he needed to walk for a bit. I was thirsty, but was still doing great and continued on up to the Red Wolf pass aid station. I drank a lot and set off for the last push back to the finish. I was excited that I was in the lead and enjoyed running fast down the hill. I had some cramping in my arms, which worried me a bit, but I knew it just from the lack of fluid not that I was slowly shutting down. I finished in 6:34 and it was by far the best I have ever felt for that distance. I felt like I really got everything right. I ran comfortably and took care of myself. The race director gave me a Nathan hydration pack for winning, which I’m really looking forward to trying out. Later, I discovered that we had in fact gone the wrong way, and the next day I discovered that I had been DQ’ed. That was a real disappointment, since I had a great run that might have even been a course record I wanted it to be documented. But that’s the rules and I got what I came for. This run has given me the confidence boost to try and run well at the Waldo in a few weeks. At work I did some mapping and figured our route had less hills, but was about 2.5 miles longer, in the sun, and with no aid. That made me feel better also, it’s never fun to discover you did well but cut it short. That’s two races now, No more getting lost!

Orcas Island 50K

The Orcas Island race was beautiful and a whole lot of fun. Between the isolation, runner cabins, post race party, and easy going nature of the participants, Orcas Island felt much more like a running camp than a race. Being the first race since Western States and my seizures last year, my goal was really to just have a good long hard run. I carpooled up with Tonya Olson from Eugene and then Yassine Diboun from Portland and it was great to get to know each of them. We had no trouble making the ferry and had a nice ride over. After the check in (complete with pot luck dinner), we stayed with a long time friend from Eugene, Susannah Beck who recently moved to the island. The park is beautiful with lots of old mossy growth forest, ever changing twisty trails and some hidden lakes. From the start there were about 5 of us together up front, spreading out and then grouping up again depending who was better at the climbs or downhills. After summiting Mt. Pickett (no view) we found our way back to the start at Cascade Lake for our first aid station at mile 9.7. At this point there were three of us within about 20 seconds, Alex Henry who would go on to win by a large margin, myself and Yassine. The climb up the southwest face of Mt. Constitution was quite steep and generally just followed the power lines. The lead runner, Alex was fast out of the aid station and quickly put a big gap on Yassine and myself. It seemed his climbing skills had doubled since our first big climb of the day. Along the way we got to pass many of the 25K runners which made it fun to chat with folks along the way. On the north side of the mountain we had an amazing downhill section that when on for miles. I felt amazing, and then some woman who I hadn’t met heading up the trail for the 25K say’s “go Tapeworm!” And another woman says “go Sunsweet” “my husband runs for Sunsweet”. I still have not figured out who she was. Anyway I had a huge smile and energetically greeted everyone going up the hill. “Dude, you are in first place for people wearing a smokey the bear hat!” By this time, we had passed a number of signs that said “50K first time, 50K second time”. I was starting to lose track which ones we had passed already. Yassine caught up to me at a junction near twin lakes and we ran down together to Mountain Lake. At an unmarked junction near the lake (about mile 17-18) we made a right hand turn and should have made a left. Along the way we asked a few folks “did you see the first place guy go this way?” Two parties said yes, so we thought we were still on track. However pretty soon we saw the first place guy running towards us. “All well” I thought, I remembered the course circled a lake and this seemed to be it. So what did it matter what direction we go? Well I was wrong, you only run about 2/3 around the lake and then head up Mt. Constitution for the 2nd time. Anyway it took us some time to get things sorted out, but eventually we found our way back. My high times were now long gone, as was my motivation and energy. Yassine and I settled in and tried to just focus on enjoying the run. At the top there was an amazing view, and not having to worry about place I stopped a few times to take it in. In the end, going the wrong way forced me to not overdo it, which I probably would have done if I had stayed in 2nd place. At the top I took my time, re-fueled, tried to take a mental picture, and started down the hill towards Cascade Lake and the finish. I was getting pretty tired by the end and was really glad I didn’t feel obligated to be pushing it hard. I think I came in around 35th place and 5:42. Hard to say what I would have run. At the finish camp we had food, live bluegrass music, beer, and (thanks to Susannah) homemade pizza. The post race party went on well into the night, but by 9pm I was cooked and ready to go to bed. On the drive home we added Sander of Corvallis and had lively conversation that cut the drive in half. It was a fantastic weekend. (I stole the above photo from Sander’s 2008 collection)

My Summer Seizures

Around 5:00 am on Saturday July, 18, 2009, I had a grand mal seizure. My wife Courtney woke because the bed was shaking and she looked over to see my body contorted, seizing uncontrollably. She called 911. Apparently, the seizure lasted about 20 seconds, but I was out for another 20 minutes. When I woke, the paramedics had arrived, and five men in blue surrounded the bed. My tongue hurt because I had bit it, but otherwise I felt ok, though tired. We went to the hospital and they checked me out to make sure the seizure wasn’t caused by a brain tumor or stroke or anything else obvious. The doctors didn’t find anything—whew!—and sent me home that morning. At home, I made some phone calls, and because Courtney wanted to go for a run, we called Harold, Courtney’s godfather to keep me company. I was falling asleep on the couch and around 10:15 am, I had another seizure. Harold called 911, and when I came to, a new bunch of strangers in blue surrounded me, but also a good friend, ultra running mentor, and fireman/paramedic, John Ticer. A quick Ticer side story: Before Western States, I was getting ready to paint the house and had taken the address numbers off the house. We hosted a pre-race party and John said: “You better get some temporary numbers up in case the paramedics have to come looking for you!” Sure, I thought, but what are the chances? After 37 years of living, I’ve never called 911. Luckily the first ambulance found us early that morning through Courtney’s descriptions to the 911-operator, but John, in on the second call, knew right where to go. After you’ve had 2 grand mal seizures doctors technically classify you as having a “seizure disorder” or as it used to be known, epilepsy. The two weeks that followed the episodes were a whirlwind of doctor’s appointments, discussions with friends, a lot of reading, and a lot of thinking. This is what the Mayo Clinic website has to say about grand mal seizures: http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/grand-mal-seizure/DS00222 Because I had just attempted Western States a few weeks before, I thought a logical link between the issues I experience there—Rhabdomyolysis and two days in the Auburn hospital—might be connected. However, the neurologist and the other doctors I saw all thought that there was no link between Western States and the seizures, though they all admitted they couldn’t really know for certain. The neurologist was more interested in what I described to him as déjà-vu experiences—about two years ago I had moments in time while washing dishes, brushing my teeth, or walking the dog when I felt as though I was living what I had just dreamed the night before. If I let these times go very long—because I always felt I could stop them—I would eventually start to feel sick to my stomach and dizzy. I almost didn’t mention this, but the neurologist said that these were probably “mini seizures”. A short time after the grand mal seizure, I had an Electroencephalogram (EEG). In this procedure, you are sleep deprived and the technician flashes lights at you to stress your brain while they measure the electrical activity. This also didn’t yield any problems… or answers. I am now on an anti-seizure medication, Dilantin, for two years. Initially Dilantin made me a little dizzy and unmotivated. I haven’t had any more problems and the side effects are largely gone, although I often still feel unmotivated to take out the trash. Aside from the pragmatic downside of the very real health issue, all this has given me another “wake-up-this-is-your-life” kick in the pants, for which I’m always grateful. Overall, I’m feeling a less invincible and a little more excited about life.

2009 Western States Race Report

At the start of the climb up to the Escarpment, I was surprised how fast the top guys took off. I knew they would run up, but they were running up fast. I followed the lead group the wrong way for about 50 yards before I started hearing “wrong way!” coming from below. I wished Hal good luck as the top guys passed by to reclaim the lead. I felt nauseous from the start. I was guessing it was from the altitude but didn’t really know—maybe the cheesy lasagna from the night before? I was a little worried because puking at mile 5 would be a tough way to start out. At the Escarpment aid station I stopped for a handful of Tums, which seem to do the trick. Several times on the way up I looked back to see the gravel road full of runners and rising sun. I walked and jogged my way up in 48 min to the top. Matt, who would be pacing me from Green Gate, said he had done it in 51 the day before, so I was either feeling great or going too fast. As the trail crested and headed down the other side it felt as if the race was really starting and we were at last heading off the edge of our great adventure. After my extended training taper, it felt so great to be running again and everything seemed to be working fine. Things were fairly uneventful through Lyon Ridge (10.5) and Red Star (16). I was running around 20th -22nd place and was loving the world. Someplace in there was a “machined” section of 2-3 inches of soft dirt. This was mostly nice, but I turned my left ankle enough to hear a crunching sound on something hiding under the top layer. I walked a bit and my ankle seemed to still be working so I was back on track. Starting around Red Star, I felt the twinges of cramping. It was way too early to start taking S! caps so I put it off and increased my fluid. Soon, though, it was clear I was quite low on sodium and needed to catch up. Low sodium probably contributed to my nausea at the start as well. I had drunk too much water the day before the race I guess. Duncan Canyon seemed long and spread out, nothing to worry about and not nearly as intense as the ones to come. The air started to warm up so I dunked my shirt in a few of the stream crossings prior to Robinson Flat. I think about half of the time I got my shirt back on backwards or inside out. Rolling into Robinson Flat (29.7) I was really excited to see Courtney and Matt for the first time. After I weighed in—my weight was up—I heard Ticer and Ed’s booming voice telling me where to meet my crew. We had a good transition: I ate ½ a turkey- avocado sandwich and Matt ran part way up the next hill with me. From Robinson Flat through Miller’s Defeat (34.4), Dusty Corners (38), I was still struggling with my sodium / hydration. Scott Wolf caught me around Miller’s Defeat and looked good. When I started taking salt for the cramps my weight started to go up, so I needed to try and drink enough so that my body didn’t think I was dehydrated. Eventually my cramps had mostly gone away, but until I started letting go of the fluid I wasn’t on track. At last I was able to pee just outside Miller’s Defeat. I felt like the owner of a new puppy who just peed outside instead of on the rug: “Oh, good boy! Good peeing!” With no cramping and a new understanding of how much fluid I needed—a third bottle would have been a good idea—I was feeling good and ready to roll. I ran into Last Chance (43.8) in 19th place and was trading places with Lon Freeman, who is well-respected in the world of ultras. Exiting Last Chance, I saw the sign I had my folks make for me: “Dan, the quads are evil and must be punished! – Mom and Dad”. Funny at the time, but in reality, the quads should only be considered evil in training, not in the middle of a 100-mile race! Lon and I ran together down to Swinging Bridge and back up Devil’s Thumb. Near the top he asked how the front runners were doing and a woman told us that last she saw Scott Jurek, he was sitting in a chair at the top. At Devils Thumb (47.8) I filled, drank, ate, wet down and hit the trail. The descent down to El Dorado Canyon was a little longer than I wanted and my quads were starting to complain. A thermometer at the aid station said 96° F. That’s hot, but I was feeling okay, and eager for the climb back out to Michigan Bluff (55.7). I felt like I had a great climb and dropped Lon along the way. Near the top I caught back up to Scott Wolf who said he was having stomach problems. Michigan Bluff was probably the high point of my competitive race. I hadn’t run any downhill for around 45 minutes, I had moved up to 16th place, it was hot but I was dealing with it well, I had successfully solved problems, and folks were starting to drop, I knew the trails very well, and I got to see Courtney and Matt again. I downed a bottle and traded my visor for a hat with ice in it and picked up my ice-filled bandana. I wasn’t looking forward to the downhill, but I figured it was normal considering I was at mile 56 on a downhill course. Volcano Canyon was by far the hottest section I thought, and much more exposed. The downhill to the bottom hurt, but I had a good climb out. Matt and my new pacer John met me part way up Bath road, and I was able to run about half. When I arrived in Forest Hill, I was feeling like I had run 62 miles—which I had, of course—but I was in 14th place and moving up. Spirits were high, but I realized I was really dreading the down hills of the Cal Street Section. John was a great pacer, easy to talk to and kept me on track. I realized my quads were in real trouble and getting down to Cal 1 killed my hopes of moving up. From this point on, the race became about just getting the job done any way I could. My heart was racing and I was breathing very hard, it was becoming a huge effort to run the downhills. These sections were more like a marathon race effort even though we were only moving at an average pace. Between Cal 1 and Cal 2 and then again after Cal 2 to Cal 3 I started to see blood in my urine. Not a good sign. I tried to back off some more and spent more time hydrating at the aid stations.

(Here I am at Cal 2 looking a more than a little out of it)

Once we hit the bottom I felt a little better and was able to get rolling a little again. Ford’s Bar to Rucky Chucky went by faster than I expected and before I knew it, I was at the river crossing. The river was great and all the volunteers were extremely helpful. I think after seeing me they made a point of reminding me to hold on “with both hands!” Matt met us on the other side and the three of us walked up to Green Gate with some feeble attempts at running. I collected myself at Green Gate (79.8), and remember telling Courtney that this was “by far the hardest thing I had ever done,” and that “this hurts so much.” You know—what every loved one wants to hear from you almost 80 miles in. Courtney and Matt got me loaded up and traded my hat for a head lamp. Matt kept me focused and moving and before I knew it, we were off. At Green Gate I was still in about 16th place but was quickly caught by three other runners including Bev. Matt had me focus on trying to stay with them, and after a bit, amazingly I was able to hang on all the way to ALT (85.2). The trail was mercifully flat and I was starting to think maybe I could actually finish this thing at some point. I really hadn’t cared about my finish time since Cal 1. It took me a long time to get out of ALT and even longer to get up to a shuffle again. We decided Brown’s Bar would need to be a quicker transition. I lost contact with the runners ahead of me as I had a few painful creek crossings. When I reached Browns Bar (89.9) I was dizzy, overwhelmed and felt like hell. Everyone was wearing red dresses. I got some soup, some fluid and we were out. When you leave Brown’s Bar you go down a long technical downhill until you reach the Quarry Road. It was now 10:30 pm and I hadn’t had to run any real downhill since 6:30 pm, back on the Cal street section. Just out of the aid station, I tried to run a step and knew that was not going to work… in fact, walking was proving to be very difficult. My quads were shooting with pain and each step was taking a tremendous amount of energy. I eventually made it down to the bottom on Quarry Road. As I walked slowly down on the flat part of Quarry Road, Lewis and Craig passed us and both looked great. Craig told me to take it easy on the decent down to No Hands Bridge. The only way I could take it easier would be if I sat down a scooted down on my butt—not an exaggeration. On the assent up to the Hwy 49 crossing, I was staggering, trying to sit down, peeing dark brown, and only barely moving forward. Matt kept me taking calories, kept me from falling, and declared he wouldn’t let me pass out in the woods, though I tried several times. He made sure I made it to the Highway crossing. According to the race splits, it took me about 3 hours to go the 3.6 miles from Brown’s Bar to the Highway crossing (93.5). At the aid station, I weighed in and told the physician I was having brown urine. She said she wouldn’t let me go till I was peeing clear again. Ultimately, that wouldn’t come until the next day and after six IV’s. I sat in a chair and drank 3 bottles of water, some soup, some Coke and was able to give her a sample. She then recommended an ambulance trip to the hospital, and started an IV. In the 45 minutes I was waiting at the station, I saw all the rest of my Eugene friends pass through. At the hospital, a blood test revealed I had a CPK of 95,940, and normal is between 20-200. I checked in, and in weighing in, was close to 20 pounds over my normal weight. We stayed in the Auburn hospital for two days, and I was released the Monday following the race with a CKP of close to 45,000. About two months ago, the Atlantic Monthly cover story highlighted a 70-year study on what makes us happy. It was mostly a boring eight pages of the means and methods of the comprehensive study, but the conclusion of the study was that friends, family and good health are what keep us happy—your financial or professional status, fame, or education don’t matter. Having never done a 100 before, I thought this race would be a sort of personal journey, emotional and spiritual, and maybe even and transformative in some way as I reached my lowest of lows and pushed through to the end. What I came away with was a beautiful display of selfless love, support and community from the spectators, volunteers, friends, family and my wife. I’m disappointed I wasn’t able to finish the last 6.7 miles, but when I finally did get emotional on the drive home—in a car left behind for us by a friend—it was from happiness. I took a flying leap off the Western States stage and from the start all the way to the drive home I’ve been crowd surfing the kindness and friendship of all those involved. Thank you everyone, that was awesome.

Pre States Thoughts

Well it looks like I’m going to make it to the starting line. I should be healthy (I think) and fit, (for the most part). Since the American River 50 mile, I had a down week, 3 weeks at 100 miles, couple of weeks around 60-70 due to an injury, and 3 more weeks around 100 miles. I was planning on a gradual taper starting 3 weeks out, but it’s been a steeper drop off than I wanted due to another injury. But I’m here now. I’ve had some painful runs that I probably should have skipped and many wonderful ones that reminded me how much I love this sport. My extra long runs have been 39, 50, 32, & a 46 solo. They have all gone well with no real major issues. I’ve been hitting the sauna and have done a few overdressed runs to hopefully help my body deal with the heat. This is the time to second guess your training. Did I start my taper to early? Should I have done at least one more run over 50 miles? Did I do enough downhill?? I know I should have hit the Rooster Rock at least one more time. In the end I’m sure we all could have trained just a little smarter and that keeps us coming back I guess. This training period has really been a balance of finding my limits. Not so much doing amazing workouts and high volume, but more knowing when to back off just long enough to stay healthy. Seems I have had just about everything pop up this season. My left knee thing has been with me the entire time, but I can keep it in check by not doing to many miles and keeping up my physical therapy exercises. I had a good scare by hurting my Tibialis anterior in early May by running downhill fast with no warm up. It was difficult to walk let alone run after that one. I started getting pain on my right heel in the mornings (tends to go away within a ½ hour) and recently I pulled something in my left calf running to fast on the track. The calf thing is what I’m worried about quite a bit right now, but I’m hoping that if I don’t run all that much these last few days it should be good enough. I like to pretend that this constant push / pull in training will help me problem solve and deal with issues during the race, at least that’s how I’m going to spin it. The race starts well before June 27th and many of us beat ourselves before we even make it to the start line. As our most famous enemy of the state, Dick Cheney, said, “you go to war with the army you have not the one you wish you had”. I think the rest of his quote is “…the important thing however is going to war”. What are my goals for my first Western States run? I’ve been thinking about that a lot recently. Having come face to face with the mortality of my running career last year I’d say my number one goal is to start and finish. I also hope to find out a little bit more about myself. Not to misrepresent myself, I plan to place as well as I can but I’m trying to keep the competition element in perspective. I’m really looking forward to sharing what I think will be an incredibly difficult, soul searching journey with hundreds of other folks like me. Final thought: I should have done Rooster one more time.