Before the Race
60 pounds of water. It wasn't the altitude (8700 feet) or the cumulative 18,000 ft ascent and 23,000 ft descent that intimidated me. It wasn't even the 105-115 degree temps that were expected to haunt us in the canyons. It was when Dr Lind, the famed ultra endurance doctor, told us we would have to consume 1/3 of our weight in fluids over the course of the race that I was taken aback. Since I weigh 180 pounds, I would need to drink 60 pints of water. At least I felt justified in some of my planning and training decisions. I had looked at pictures and trip reports from past races and it seemed that most people carried two or three 16-22 oz water bottles instead of wearing Camelbaks. But here is where my analysis differed from some. This year was the first year since 2001 that Duncan Canyon would be used again because of a big forest fire. So since the finish rates were lower with the older course that we would be reverting to this year, I used splits from prior to 2001 to do my time estimates instead of the last few years. I knew they would be slower and thus I would need more water between stations. Most ultra-runners are lighter so they would need less water than me. But with my training in the heat and my sweat rate, I decided months ago that I would have to wear a 100 oz Camelbak the entire race. So luckily, during most of my long training runs, I ran with the weight on my back.

The basic purpose of all of that fluid is for cooling. If the body needs to maintain 98.6 degrees, and it is 100-110 out side, evaporating water from the skin is the main cooling mechanism. In order for this to work, the fluid must be ingested by the stomach, absorbed into the blood, then sweated out the skin, with many complex reactions in between. So if you can bypass all of that process by keeping your skin damp, you can reduce your temperature with much less effort. During the hot part of the day, I kept snow in my hat, a bandana under my hat for shade, and kept my body as damp as possible with water either found on the course or carried in a hand-held bottle. The other thing Dr Lind said was that getting your head a little damp and your legs a little damp would not help cool your core. You have to get cool water on your mid-section and femoral arteries in your legs to help cool your core.

The other medical fact from Dr Lind that was helpful was the amount of sodium that needs to be consumed in a race like this. Hardly anyone finishes with too high a sodium content in their blood but many have low sodium, which is very dangerous. This is called hyponutrimia and can cause seizures among other difficulties. So my last-minute plan change was to increase my intake of Sodium. I took 2 Succeed caplets every hour for the first 4 hours (started at 5am) and then took 3 per hour during the day. At night, I cut back to 1 every hour or two with some salty food thrown in.

My training consisted of 45-70 miles per week near home and in Huntsville State Park with a few trips to Bandera and Bastrop thrown in to practice running down hills. There is a large landfill in The Woodlands that I used for some short hill repeats. I also did a lot of weight training with my legs, core, and some upper body. To build strength, I ran around my 5- acre yard pulling a tire. Of course my kids preferred that I did that at night so the neighbors wouldn't think I was completely nuts.

We enjoyed a two-week family vacation in California leading up to the race. We visited San Francisco, wine country, Yosemite (Sequoias were awesome!!!), Tahoe. Not exactly restful, but a good way to dilute the importance of the race on the whole trip.

So come race day, I was happy to be at least starting the race trained, not injured, and as prepared as I could reasonably be. I like the quote "The desire to finish means nothing without the desire to prepare".

I had 10 drop-bags. I didn't have an official crew or even a pacer lined up so I had instructions, mileage, and notes written in each bag for each segment of the race (ended up not looking at any of them). Sheryl (my wife) and out two daughters were going to meet me at Robinson Flat (29 miles) and Foresthill (62 miles). I asked them to bring me a cold Monster energy drink and a can of cold peaches in heavy syrup. Main fuel plan was Power Bars, Ensure, and whatever I could eat at the stations. I had Body Glide and Bag Balm to put on my feet at various sites and supplies to change socks and clean my feet. I also included everything else I might need including extra water bottles, flashlights, blister fixes, extra clothes, hats, sun glasses, duct tape, etc. I'm an over-planner for sure and never use 2/3 of what I pack. Better safe than sorry when you are self-supporting.

I had watched "Race for the Soul" and "Running Madness" a million times (in spite of my family's groans and moans) and trapped as many victims as possible to watch them with me. I had definitely built this race up as a big deal and was pumped about doing it.

         

The Race

Looking at the huge 2500 ft vertical ascent(1/2 mile straight up) over 4 miles didn't really intimidate me much. I just positioned my self 3/4 of the way back in the crowd so I wouldn't be lured in to pushing too hard and make my already pounding headache worse. Altitude, pollen, caffeine, or something had given me a terrible headache but it was gone after 20 miles and didn't really slow me down so it wasn't a factor in the race.

While waiting for the start, I saw Gordy Ansleigh who is somewhat of an idol of mine because he started this whole 100-mile trail run thing almost 30 years ago. He is 59 and still out there trying it. The clock hit 5am and about 400 of us started on an epic adventure. Little did we know at the time that only 210 would finish. A 52% finish rate was the lowest to be seen in over 11 years. Only 5 of the 14 Texans who started the race would finish. But for now, we were all optimistic and excited.

At one point during the initial climb, I looked up and could see many runners above me on the switch-backs and was disconcerted that only about 50 were behind me. But my focus was on steady progress and staying within my abilities at the beginning of the race. The slushy snow slowed progress but it wasn't bad. It wasn't until I reached the escarpment at mile 4 that I realized the error in starting near the back. I had practiced running fast downhills in a way that minimized damage to the quad muscles in the legs. But doing that also requires some nerve and agility to find a spot for your steps without much warning. It turns out that many people can't do that and since the trail was narrow, I found myself held up by crowds of people inching their way down easy descents. To their credit, they were being safe because there were post-holes through the snow and a little extra care was probably needed. But it held me up when I wanted to move faster.

I did take the time to enjoy the scenery and just take in the great feeling of actually participating in something I've wanted to do for such a long time. The view of the sun coming up over lake Tahoe from the Escarpment is something I'll never forget. Just a few days before, I had swam in the 68 degree crystal-clear lake. I take a moment to appreciate being alive and healthy. Living a dream.

I'm always on the lookout for insights gained during these extreme events that can be applied to life in general. And one particular thing I noticed was a certain group mentality that exists which actually causes people to under-perform their potential. I noticed when you start moving along with a group of five or six people, you start feeling comfortable with the pace of the group. Subconsciously, you get caught up in the pace of the group and fail to realize that you are not moving at the speed of which you are capable. The group slows on downhills, you start slowing. Eventually one of the ducks in the flock will poke their head up and look into the horizon and take off on their own. Sometimes they inspire others to follow. Sometimes not. I thought of how people we surround ourselves with either limit our own progress or inspire us to push forward and stretch our capabilities.

Lyon Ridge (mile 10.5)
I had kept a good strong pace from the beginning of the race. Running when possible, power walking fast up the steep hills. No sitting or standing at any time. So when I rolled in to Lyon Ridge at 7:38 am, I was both surprised that I had already covered 10.5 miles with no fatigue and also disappointed to discover that I was already 28 minutes later than the 30 hour pace. I certainly hadn't been pushing hard but I also hadn't been wasting any time either. Oh well, I'm sure it's just the slow start with all of the people bunched in the first few miles. I'm sure at the next station, I'll be well ahead of the 30 hour pace.

Red Star Ridge (mile 16)
I pulled in to Red Star Ridge at 8:57am. Two minutes behind the 30 hour pace but still.... I didn't expect to be at the 30 hour pace this early in the race. Even at this early hour, the sun on the ridges was burning hot. Just a prelude to what was to come. But I still packed snow in my hat to keep cool. I hadn't filled my Camelbak all of the way to lighten the load in the initial climb. And since I picked up a hand-held full of Gu2O from my drop bag, I didn't have them fill it all of the way this time. They had little ice so the hand-held fluid got hot and nasty. I dumped it out and decided to stick with water. The crowd was thinned out but already I was seeing a few laying beside the trail ordering a Yak burger. I saw a helicopter flying overhead, not knowing it was taking a heart-attack victim out of the race (survived ok). The miles stretched on and I ran out of the luke-warm water. The charred trees and smell of ash were a constant visual reminder of what my throat felt like without water.

Duncan Canyon (mile 23.8)
I rolled in to Duncan Canyon at 10:43am. 3 minutes passed the 30-hour pace. This was not funny. I was pushing hard as I dared with the heat and still dangerously close to the 30 hour pace and only 45 minutes ahead of the hard cutoff time that would force my removal from the race. From Duncan Canyon on, I requested my 100 oz bag be filled with ice-water and also my hand-held to be filled with ice water.

I rehydrated with water and plenty of fresh fruit. Downed a few potatoes with salt and moved on down the trail. Heavily burdened with water but knowing it was necessary to survive. Someone told me on the way out that Duncan creek was down the trail and a good place to cool off. When I reached the small stream, I kneeled in the water and splashed water on my stomach and head. I didn't get my feet wet for fear of blisters. This was refreshing but it didn't take long to wear off in the blistering heat and charred forest. When I came to a wide creek that forced my feet to get wet, I decided to take full advantage and just walked into the creek and sat down for about 30 seconds. Splashed water on my head and mid-section. I was worried that my wet feet would blister but I knew that I would change my socks at Robinson Flat where Sheryl and our girls Kelly (12) and Ashley (15) were waiting for me.

Robinson Flat (mile 29.7)
      

I rolled in to Robinson Flat a bit weak from not being able to eat my power bars because of the heat. Fruit had become my main source of energy and it only lasted for a short while. I had rehydrated since the Duncan drought and was actually up two pounds (183) from my starting weight. Good job hydrating but time to increase the salt to 3 tabs per hour.

I had Sheryl bring me a can of ice-cold peaches in heavy syrup, and they tasted awesome. Drank the sugary syrup and it helped because my spirits lifted immediately. Cleaned my feet, found out that the heat had melted my body glide, reapplied bag balm to my already wrinkled feet, and put on my gloriously dry injinji toe socks. Ate some more fruit, put my diet Monster drink in my hand-held, got my MP3 player filled with a compilation of songs that myself and my oldest daughter created, and took off. I spent about 15 minutes at this station. 15 minutes I didn't have but I knew the time was well spent because I was now refreshed when others were struggling to keep their weight up. I was heading out into the heat of more exposed ridges. No shade.

I was feeling good, listening to tunes, running strong. Thrilled to be lost in my own world for the moment. Time to work while I felt good. I passed German from Houston who had lost 10 pounds but convinced them to allow him to continue. Experience and guts would help him continue on to finish the race. But things looked bleak at the moment.

The sun baked, the music played, and I drank frequently and ran. I saw miserable souls on the trail.

Dusty Corners (mile 38)
A quick pass through Dusty Corners at 2:46pm showed me gaining 14 minutes on the 30 hour pace. I came in tired and nauseous but the fact that I gained on the 30 hour pace gave me some much-needed hope. I drank coke and left with a cup full of fruit. I struggled on in the heat, not as much strength as before but steady progress. But I kept drinking, taking salt, and moving. I found out as I left that 241 had passed through before me.

Last Chance (mile 43.3)
As I approached Last Chance at 3:42pm, I had a spike of optimism because I actually got hungry before I reached the aide station. Even though I had weak moments since the last station, I was still 18 minutes ahead of the 30-hour pace. Not enough to be comfortable to say the least. When I got there, I ate 3/4 of a grilled cheese, some fruit, and some soup. I saw Gordy sitting there as I passed through. I knew the day was tough for everyone if he was be back at the 30 hour pace. Somehow I had moved up to number 186.

It was between Last Chance and the beginning of the decent in Devil's Thumb that I saw one of the most memorable sights of my life. I think it is called Pucker Point when you stand next to a complete drop-off and look down at a huge canyon with rocks and a beautiful river at the bottom. I may be confused about exactly where I was but it was a sight I won't forget. It's called Pucker Point because when you sit on top of a horse and look straight down... well... you know....

The food started to kick in and I was running well. I was so sad to see Meredith from Austin at this point since she is such an incredibly strong runner and I knew she was having trouble to be back here with me.

I started the steep descent into the canyon before Devil's Thumb. I knew I was running too fast and hard for this stage of the race but honestly, it hurt more to go slow. I could feel my feet getting hammered as I tore down the hill. I passed several people on this descent. By the time I made it to the bottom, I was scorched. Knowing the incredibly steep climb that lay before me, I had planned all along to cool myself in the stream at the bottom. I knew I was at the spot when I saw other runners sitting beside the stream. With frequent water crossings, my feet were already wet so I had given up on trying to keep them dry. I found a hole under a waterfall and sat down completely in the cold water. I submerged my whole body and head under the ice cold water, almost going in to shock from the cold. I jumped out, put on my Camelbak, ready to take on the 50-minute climb that lay ahead. As recommended, I took a steady pace that would take me to the top without stopping once. This climb was much steeper than I anticipated. Each step was a climbing step. I was "lucky" enough to be behind a guy that loudly groaned with each step up. Step groan step groan step groan. Maybe his moans were reminding me of my own pain but for a fleeting moment, I wanted to go Kavorkian on him. A small pillow... There... just go to sleep little fella.... Yikes I gotta get off of this hill.

Devil's Thumb (49 miles)
At 5:19pm, I saw three beautiful blonds who were waiting at the top of the hill, welcoming me to hells kitchen, and they understood when I didn't greet them with the enthusiasm that they deserved. I was weak from lack of food, tired from the climb, hot, and as an added bonus, my exercised induced asthma prevented me from taking a deep breathe. I'm sure the dust and ash didn't help. Let's see. How can I finish if I can't eat or breathe. The doctor heard wheezing in my lungs and said my O2 saturation in my blood was a little low but not dangerously low. Every time I took a deep breathe, I would start coughing and could not stop. I laid down on a cot for about 3 guilty minutes and then did the only sane thing there was to do and that was eat a Popsicle, and force my self down the trail. Hoping for a miracle.

El Dorado Canyan
The beautiful thing about Western States is that it rewards guts in the face of adversity with more difficulty. As I ran down more switchbacks towards El Dorado Creek, not being able to eat was catching up with me. My energy ebbed and I was forced to a walk on some runnable sections. This, I was sure, was the end of my long battle with the 30 hour pace. I was sure I would miss the cut-off at El Dorado Creek. Almost hoping???? Maybe. Gordy passed me again. I had had some consolation that he was behind me. With his ability to finish, I had some confidence when he was behind me. Now that was gone. When I reached El Dorado Creek at 7:04pm, I was in bad shape. The coughing was terrible. I was weak. 14 hours on the trail. I sat down, not even able to stomach a cracker. After a few minutes of setting head in hands, I ate some broth and then some fruit. I saw German again and some others that I had met gave me encouraging words to push up the hill to Michigan Bluff. I glanced up and realized that I had 15 minutes on the 30 hour pace. I knew the climb to Michigan would be tough since I had so few calories in me. But I headed out. Needing to get there before I needed flashlights.

Michigan Bluff (mile 55)

      

The three mile climb to Michigan Bluff took me a little over an hour. Low blood sugar had whittled my hope and desire to be out there. Somehow, the thought of not being able to drink, eat, or breathe began to make me doubt my ability to finish. But luckily.... Help was on the way.

Mariela Botella from Houston came to Western States to pace a friend but he didn't make it past one of the cut-offs. We had emailed each other a few times but had never met. Based on a few obscure facts, she spotted my wife and kids and introduced herself as my pacer since she knew I didn't have one lined up yet. They sat me down and shoved half a hamburger down my throat and told me I had a pacer. I was reluctant to have her pace me, not because I wasn't going to move on a little further but because I lacked confidence that I could physically make it another 45 miles and I didn't want to drag anyone down with me in my failure. I had never had a pacer and didn't know the value of one. But that was about to change. I had asked Sheryl to find me a pacer and she did a perfect job.

I think I had some Ensure on the rocks. We got rid of the Camelbak since it was getting dark. I only had a 22 oz hand-held which I would keep filled with a part-water, part-sprite mixture for the rest of the race. I had a whole bag full of things she told me I didn't need. Sheryl gave me a couple of Advil. Got the two Xenon Q40 mini-dive flashlights and headed doubtfully down the trail. Carrying the 100 oz bag all day was not without impact. My back muscles began to spasm, taking my breathe away. This subsided as the Advil began to take effect.

Maybe as I get more experience as an ultra-runner, I'll be able to see this from within the dark foggy void and recognize that my negative thoughts, bad feelings, and list of excuses were from the lack of nutrients in my body. Hypoglycemia. In retrospect, it seems completely obvious what had happened. I think as I experience it more and more, I'll be able to see through it when I'm there. As the food began to absorb, my energy and positive attitude returned and I was able to run again. Even my breathing cleared up. Only an ultra-runner can fully appreciate the transformation that can happen to the body when it is properly hydrated and fueled. You can think your body is completely used up but the fact is you are probably just depriving it of something it needs. I even have a theory that aches and pains hurt worse when your sugar level gets low. Strength returned and I began to run strong again. Fast on the down-hills, power-walking up hills. At first, Mariela urged me on each time I reached a runnable stretch and didn't take advantage of it. The mind and body dulls and finds little ways to slow down unless they are noticed. As time went on I was largely able to motivate myself to run when it was runnable.

ForrestHill (62 miles)
We rolled in to Forrest Hill School at 10:17pm. This is a major medical check and with that and the drop bag, we didn't roll out until 10:28pm. 2 minutes ahead of the 30 hour cut-off. Mariela was forever confident and positive and helped me believe that I could finish. When I would start to do time calculations in my head, she would prod me back to focus on running.

We were getting lower in altitude so the heat increased even as we ran in the night. I was still able to run hard on the down-hills, sometimes passing large groups of people. I was absolutely amazed that I had strength left in my legs.

Peachstone (70.7 miles)
When we arrived at Peachstone at 12:37am, I realized I had put 30 minutes on the 30 hour pace. Statistically, the typical runner slows down beyond ForestHill. But my pace between there and Peachstone actually increased. My legs were fatigued but they still had strength. My feet were hurting pretty bad at this point. I felt blisters all over the bottom of my feet. Running with wet socks is a bad thing to do. But they were not terrible at this point so I decided not to waste precious time on them. A gamble that would prove painful in the end.

We passed Gordy around 3am in the middle of nowhere. I got to chat with him briefly about a comment he had made on a video made a few years back. Something in the bible about being a "peculiar people" and the mindset of his religious family that rewarded "peculiar behavior". He thought that is why he got in to long-distance running and doing things his way. As I passed him in the middle of the night, the absurdity of what we were trying to do made me comment to him that we were in fact a "peculiar people". A surreal moment for sure.

Rucky Chucky (78 miles)
The river crossing had to be made in rafts this year because of large snow melts. We lost about 20 minutes waiting for a boat. My supplies were on the far side so we couldn't really use the time to fix my feet. While waiting for the boat, I got to witness the contrast between a good pacer and a not-so-good pacer. I heard a girl say "if you want to quit, that's fine. I'm just here if you want to go on.". By this time, I knew Mariela well enough to know this would bother her. With her, quitting is not an option. Might as well not discuss it. She addresses the problems of the moment but is forever optimistic about the finish. A runner needs that. Any doubt or laxness feeds the runner's already negative state. Mariela chimed in and told the pacer to get some sugar in her runner and herself and get on down the trail. She might have saved the race of another runner right there. By Rucky Near, we had put 38 minutes on the 30 hour pace. I was never really overwhelmingly sleeping but I remember yawning repeatedly and Mariela asked if all of this was boring me ;). The trail had a steep cliff on one side, and a wall on the other. So as we would approach a runner and his pacer, they would step aside and let us pass. We would thank them and move on. But as we passed and thanked one runner, he said "for what I'm about to do, you don't need to thank me!!!". It was hilarious at the time. Not a lot of room to get off the trail to answer the call of the wild if you know what I mean.

Green Gate (mile 79.8)
Getting to Green Gate at 4:06am marked the first significant improvement in the race against the 30 hour cut-off. 45 minutes. This buffer did little to make me comfortable because the mileage was beginning to take its toll on me. We left Green Gate with Gordy and his pacer. The night was beautiful and surprisingly warm and humid. We pulled ahead of Gordy and continued to run, in spite of my painful feet and knees. I would periodically ask Mariela if she STILL thought I had a chance to beat the cutoff and get to Auburn by 11am. She was always confident and reassuring. I learned a lot about human motivation and leadership from her that night. By mile 85, I sincerely and honestly was very sick and tired of being on the trail. My feet hurt worse than they had ever hurt before. My knees hurt. I was tired. I just wanted to be done and couldn't imagine going another 15 miles. The downhills that I loved before were now my biggest nightmare. Running fast hurt my raw feet. Going slow hurt my quads and knees. These are the moments that seem so romantic in anticipation and even in retrospect but really suck when in the present. There was no stopping now. Just time to suck it up buttercup.

Browns Bar (Mile 89.9)
By 7:10am in the morning, Brown's bar was no longer "party central". I think it was "hang-over" central. But they had a nice hot dog with mustard that tasted awesome. I knelt down in a creek in hopes that the cold water would stop my feet from burning but it did little to relieve the pain. Gordy caught up with me again and headed out ahead of me. Each step would be a painful struggle from here to the finish. We passed a memorial bench to a woman who was killed by a cougar while trail running. That helped me pick up my pace a little. But Mariela and I agreed that we both smelled too bad to be eaten by a cougar.

Hwy 49 (mile 93.5)
I was pleasantly surprised to see Sheryl and Kelly at this stop. My weight was still within 1/2 pound of my start weight. Medical said I was just showing off. Had some bacon and a fruit smoothie. The heat was already beginning to set in but I could smell the barn. From there to No-hands-bridge was about 3 miles. Most people were walking at this point and I felt good that I could still hold out a nice shuffle. With each step, especially with a slight downhill, I made a little "ouch" sound and practiced my Lamaze breathing to help manage the pain. It sounded better than a scream anyway. Guess I was being taught a lesson for mentally complaining about the moaner climbing Devil's Thumb.

No Hands Bridge (96.5)
It actually wasn't until No-Hands-Bridge that I actually begin to get a little confidence that I would finish in under 30 hours. I forced every step with sheer determination. But I was running and I wanted to leave everything on the trail. I could have walked the rest of the way in but I wanted to give it all I had. I passed a good many people.

The last 2 miles is uphill. I was able to shuffle/run all the way to the stadium.

Auburn (100.2 miles)

      

As I came in to the high school and could see all of the people and the finish, I almost broke down with the joy of finally being done and the accomplishment. Cow Man nodded and winked to me as I came around to finish in 29:09. 51 minutes over the cutoff. I was the 164th finisher of 210 finishers of the 399 starters.

I had post-race blood-work done and my sodium level was perfect. My weight was perfect. And my CPK level was 12,000. This indicator of a heart attack is usually in the 200-400 range and measures muscle breakdown but the average finisher has a level of 20,000 so I was in relatively good shape.

I waited until I got to the hotel to look at my feet. They were swollen and white and looked like brains or something nasty like that. Surprisingly, after they dried out they weren't in too bad of shape. Lost 3 toenails and a few large blisters but ok.

   

Afterwards
Of course I have an eternal debt to Mariela for the wonderful kindness that she bestowed upon me. I am definitely sold on the value of a GOOD pacer and hope to pay it forward some day.

I also want to thank my wonderful wife and kids for supporting my midnight training runs and my talking endlessly about this race. It also meant a lot for them to be waiting for me at the various aide stations that I know were difficult to get to. Forever grateful for that.

It's been over a week and every night I'm still waking up and wondering around the house thinking I'm still in the race. I somehow incorporate rooms in the race but can't figure out why my pacers are all asleep. Post-traumatic stress syndrome is too strong a word I'm sure but the event certainly made an impact on my psyche. I was never so sore as I was the next couple of days. My IT band hurt. My feet were swollen. Lost several toenails. I took a week off from running but am able to run a little now. Can't wait to start again.

All in all.... It was one of the best experiences of my life.... Epic to say the least. The lessons you learn by going through something like this stay with you forever and infiltrate every aspect of your life. You experience a full lifetime and every possible emotion during these races. You experience going from utter hopelessness to rejuvenation and hope. It is a valuable thing to know that no matter how bad things seem, they can get better if you hang in there.