The Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run is generally recognized as the Holy Grail of endurance trail running. While not as demanding as some races, such as Hardrock or Wasatch, it is one of (if not the) the oldest and well-known 100 mile races. With the requirement of a qualifying race and a lottery, it is, in some sense, an "exclusive" race. After qualifying with my finish at the Arkansas Traveler in October 2004, I was one of the fortunate 46% of the applicants who were accepted for the 2005 edition. Several other fellow Hill Country Trail Runners members also got in and ran it: Shan Rooney, Joyce Prusaitis, Linda Rust, Linda Hurd, German Collazos, Mike Riggs, Eric "Moogy" Moortgat, Dale Keen, Bill Harman and others.

Determined not to squander my opportunity, I trained hard in the late winter and early spring to prepare myself. Since Joyce also qualified, I had the distinct advantage of having the services of "Coach" Joe Prusaitis for nearly all my training runs. I figured with a rigorous training plan, a supportive training partner and the tutelage of one of the most experienced veteran ultra runners around, I might just have a shot at finishing this "mountain" 100 miler. My grand training plan took a pretty serious hit in April when I began extensive weekly travel for work. This put a major dent in my weekday training; although I was able make most of my long weekend runs. The travel does take a toll on general conditioning and the amount of rest you get. However, you play the cards you are dealt. My confidence was boosted by a successful weekend in Bandera and Lost Maples in April. Although I struggled a bit at the training weekend in the Guadalupe Mountains in mid-May, the last long run of 40+ miles at Barton Creek over Memorial Day Weekend went well. I felt that I was in pretty good shape for the task.

Joyce, Mike and Margo Riggs and I traveled together to Sacramento on Thursday June 23 where Mike had reserved a Ford Explorer for the weekend. We ended up with a mammoth Excursion which was probably a good thing with all the drop bags that we had packed. The plan was to drive to Squaw Valley (the race's starting point) on Thursday afternoon and fly out of Sacramento after (hopefully) running to Auburn, California on Saturday/Sunday. We had the usual bumps in the travel (delayed flights, re-bookings, slow bag delivery), but still were only an hour or two behind schedule when it was all said and done.

We took our time and stopped in Auburn at the Placer High School. Joyce and I were both a little choked up at seeing the finish line being constructed. Mike had conquered this race last year and it helped to have his perspective as he showed us the last checkpoint at Robie Point. After an early dinner, we made the drive to Squaw Valley. The drive was gorgeous. As we climbed up in elevation, we could see lots of snow on the peaks. There were deep gorges and forested valleys along the way which were a precursor of what was to be our Saturday experience. I could already feel the effects of the low humidity as I was drinking constantly. We checked in at the Squaw Valley Lodge where Mike had stayed last year. The location was ideal. You walk out of your condo and straight to the starting line--- No lines waiting to pee or shivering in the 30 degree temps for half an hour before the race.

Friday whizzed by like a blur with medical check-in, packet pickup, race briefing and last minute adjustments. I volunteered for one of the medical studies. I was to be in a control group for the pain medication study. This meant that I would take no pain medication during the race, not even Tylenol.

Saturday finally arrived. After all the day of preparations we sauntered out about 10 minutes before the start of the race and joined the eager mass. Despite the large group of starters (400), we quickly found our HCTR pals. There was Moogy and Shan, along with Doug and Meredith who were there to see her off. I found new club member, Bill Harman from Atlanta who I had not seen since we had happened upon each other at Bandera in mid-April. Joyce found Linda Rust who she was going to hang with for the first climb. Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride" was blasting from large speakers as the countdown shortened. Despite the chill I knew it would warm quickly and I had worn a short sleeve Race Ready shirt, Montrail cap and light gloves. I had also worn some "tall" gaiters that Joe had loaned me. With all the talk of snow, I figured better safe than sorry. As it turned out the gaiters were a good idea, but they didn't stay up very well.

START TO ESCARPMENT
("Start Me Up"-The Rolling Stones)

The clock went to zero and off we went to a great cheer. Supporters lined the Sno-Cat track which served as the "trail" up the first climb to Escarpment. This is nothing but a long hike---2500 feet elevation climb in 3.7 miles. It is too much of a climb to run (unless you are one of the aliens who run under 20 hours). I contented myself to walking up and enjoying the setting moon through the tall fir trees. We switched back and forth up for 2 miles to the first aid station. Because of all the snow, the aid station had been moved from the top of the mountain down to this point. This was only announced AFTER we had left off our drop bags. The spread between the first two aid stations was now going to be NINE miles instead of SEVEN. I was carrying two handheld bottles and a fanny pack for my fuel and e-caps. I was hoping that the cool weather would allow me to make it to the next aid station without running dry. It took 40 minutes to reach the two mile point and I had been hiking hard.

Immediately after the first aid station, we turned off the Sno-cat road onto a single track trail. Up we went among the rocks, the runners still bunched nose to butt as we all hiked up. At this point I hooked up with Mike Riggs and we patiently walked on as the sky grew lighter. We were soon up to 8200 feet in elevation (we started at 6200 feet) on our way to 8700 feet. We arrived at High Camp as the sun came up. The views of the mountains in the distance were breathtaking.... ....literally because I was really struggling to get enough oxygen at this altitude. We began to hike across patches of snow at different intervals as we followed the brown tracks of dirt from the lead runners' shoes. We hit a few short climbs where a staircase had been made by the front runners in the hard snow. Some of these were pretty steep and I was very careful to put my foot EXACTLY where the track had been made. This made for slow going as no one was in a hurry to bust their butts in the first 5 miles of the course. Mike and I came across Tom Crull from Dallas who we had seen in the Dallas airport on the way to Sacramento. I also saw John Opalko from Houston as we neared the top of the Escarpment. The view from the top was spectacular. You could see the mountains in all directions save one, the magnificent view of Lake Tahoe from 8700 feet. Wow!

ESCARPMENT TO ROBINSON FLAT
("Skateaway"-- Dire Straits)

Neither Mike nor I lingered too long at the top as we were now truly on the Western States Trail (the brown markers at periodic intervals made that crystal clear). The trail was a relatively smooth single track that descended along a mountainside among the wildflowers and the scrub toward the snow-filled woods. We were patient at first to fall in with the long line of runners. I was still breathing hard from the climb and the altitude and hoped that the sooner I got DOWN to a lower elevation, the better off I would be. I busted a move to get around some timid runners and Mike was soon close behind me. We cruised down the slope and hit the first patch of woodland snow. The blanket of snow was pretty in the evergreen trees, but the footing was tricky. The biggest problems areas were the transitions between the snow patches and the now sloppy, muddy trail. The sections dropping off from the snow to the trail were slick and slushy. Many runners in front would nearly stop to try and figure out where to put their feet. This quickly became VERY frustrating as I would happily run for a bit and then have to put on the brakes as the runners ahead seemingly paused to calculate the various permutations of where to stick their shoes. Other frustrated runners began to curl around out INTO the snow to pass. Some sank down to their knees; some slipped and slid and then made it back to the trail. Mike took this route and was soon out of my sight. I slipped and slid as I passed different groups of "thinking" runners. It was difficult to maintain control through the snow. I slipped down several times onto my right knee, and even though it hurt a little , I laughed at the lack of control I had.

As I kept going, there were stretches of snow and also stretches of plain old muddy trail. Often the trail was simply a cold stream of melting snow, running loudly and strong. This was especially true on a couple of climbs about 7 or 8 miles into the run. The water cascaded down and it was virtually impossible to do anything except just run straight up the melt. I was glad for the training at Barton Creek with all those miles in wet shoes from crossing the creek. The trail was still mixed with alternating long stretches of snow and bare ground. I was still struggling with my rapid respiration rate and my accelerated heart rate. I was also troubled by all the dang climbs! My review of the elevation chart showed a pretty distinct downward grade to Robonson Flat (24 miles). But the elevation chart was clearly deceiving. It seemed for every downhill (which I delighted in, thinking it was about to get me down to a level where my lungs could fill with some oxygen), there was a sharp climb back up. This happened again and again.

Joyce caught up to me on a flat section and we ran together for several miles. We refilled our water at Lyon Ridge at mile 11.5 and enjoyed a nice long downhill grade for a bit. We continued to have to negotiate snow patches and hesitant runners as we headed for the next Aid Station, Red Star Ridge. Joyce and I wound our way up to higher ground and then began to plunge down through tall trees where the trail switched back and forth. We were moving at a good clip now with the downslope. Linda Rust was right behind us and caught up with us at Red Star Ridge. Linda and Joyce took off ahead of me while I made a few adjustments. At last the grade was more distinctly down and I took advantage. I soon caught Linda and then Joyce. Back and forth we went. There were still a couple of scenic climbs which offered stunning views of mountainsides and canyons. We eventually hit a long stretch of jeep road. I could finally breathe a bit easier and ran hard down the jeep road into Robinson Flat just ahead of Joyce.

Robinson Flat was the first main checkpoint. After weighing in at a mere one pound under my start weight, I was quickly led to a chair which Tim Hicks, my pacer, "borrowed" from a spectator. Doug G. was there as well. As I sat there trying to change out my soaking wet socks and shoes, Joyce recruited Doug to make us pita sandwiches of tuna and avocado slices. Tim ripped the duct tape off my Hardrocks and gaiters so I could change into my Vasque Velocity trail shoes. I put on my sleeveless HCTR club shirt in anticipation of the heat of the day. The change of shirt and fresh socks and shoes, made me feel like a new man. Doug stuffed my sandwich into a ziploc so I could walk out with it. I saw Mike getting ready to leave and was surprised that I was so close to him. That's when I found out about (and saw) the gash on his forehead. The medical staff had sat him down to make sure that he was okay. Mike took off and I waited for Joyce while she changed shorts behind Tim, the human dressing shield. It had taken me over 6 hours to go 24.6 miles. I was already just barely ahead of the 30 hour pace (10 minutes). I would have to pick it up in order to have a decent time.

ROBINSON FLAT TO LAST CHANCE
("Going Mobile"-The Who)

Joyce and I walked out with our food and Linda Rust motored on by us. We walked and ate. The next section was a gentle downhill which was pretty damp from the melt, but full of pretty wildflowers of all colors and sizes. We finished our sandwiches and then hit a set of gently climbing switchbacks through the woods. There was a lot of snow melt as we hiked up toward another rock strewn ridge. I had been told by several veterans that the rockiest, most rugged section was the first 24 miles. After that the trail was supposed to have just a few scattered rocks on a single track. That was why I had put on the Vasque. The advice was dead wrong. The next few miles were probably the rockiest section of the whole course. Joyce and I shook our heads as we dipped and climbed....mostly climbed toward Little Bald Mountain Aid Station. And where was the downhill grade that was on the chart after Robinson Flat? Once again it seemed that we were climbing more than we were going down. But the views were incredible. Ridges and valleys abounded with snow still clinging to the higher, shaded spots. It was a brilliantly clear day and you could see for miles through the canyons. We finally hit a downslope. Joyce charged ahead and I followed. We soon came in to Little Baldy (28.6 miles).

No reason to stay here long. I filled my bottle and took off. Deep Canyon was next about 5 miles away. The sun was high now as it was 12:30 in the afternoon. It had been a while since it had taken me 7 1/2 hours to cover less than 29 miles in a race. I had never gone that slow at Bandera on the first loop and I was at least an hour behind my pace at Arkansas. We were finally starting to get down in elevation a bit as we headed down. I could feel the increased oxygen in the air. The trail was rugged, but runnable and I was soon coming down to the Deep Canyon Aid Station. I covered that 5 miles in an hour so the slope has definitely changed. This aid station is on a jeep road and the entire next section was jeep road. This reminded me (painfully) of the Arkansas Traveler. No long stop here either.

Joyce and I did stop right after the aid station---me to get a rock out of my sock and Joyce to fix her shoe insert. We lost time, but I would have had a major problem if I hadn't fixed it. Runners who I had dusted on the long downhill into Deep Canyon now passed me by. We started hiking up the road again and had only been going for a few minutes when another pressing issue arose. I had to make like a bear in the woods. I told Joyce to go on and then found a side road. Without going into the details, I lost about 15 minutes on this stop. By the time I had saddled up again, Joyce was long gone. The jeep road sloped downward so off I went. At least this was a good way to make up time, but Joyce can run the downs just as well so I had no chance of catching up to her. I ran hard passing many struggling runners as the road snaked down the valley. The road began to rise again and was slowed to a walk. I caught up with Jean-Jaques from Colorado and we chatted and commiserated about how the snow had seemed to sap our energy and wear down our legs. We walked together for a bit, but I was still feeling okay so I wished him well and picked up my power walk pace to climb up the road. The road dropped down again and I ran hard with a faint hope of catching Linda or Joyce. I made it into Dusty Corners Aid Station (4.3 miles from the last one) in an hour and 14 minutes. Not exactly a blistering pace, but not bad considering the stoppage time.

I lingered a bit at Dusty Corners (38 miles) to cool down and to again patch up a troublesome toe. The folks at the aid station were very helpful as I applied duct tape to my offending digit. They also had a watering hose and it felt great to have them hose down my face and head before I took off again. As I shuffled down the jeep road, I cam e across the volunteer who was clocking the runners out of the station.

"What's the next section like down to Last Chance?" I asked.
"It's the best part of the whole course!" he replied. "Gentle downhill single track the whole way down."

"I like that!" I smiled as I thanked him.

And he was right. "Even the loser gets lucky some time." as Tom Petty would say. This was the sweetest part of the whole course. It was narrow single track snaking along a ridge over a valley that seemed to go down and down and down into the shade. I was back on the horse and felt the momentum take me. I boogied down the trail passing groups of runners who seemed to be walking down this perfectly awesome downhill trail. It took me less than 50 minutes to cover the 5.3 miles down to Last Chance. To my great surprise I caught and passed Joyce and Linda about a half mile before the aid station. I didn't wait as I was anxious to get to my drop bag and refuel before Devil's Thumb and the upcoming climbs.

LAST CHANCE AID STATION
("The Sad Cafe"-The Eagles)

Last Chance was a beehive of activity. After weighing in at just slightly over my start weight. An older gentlemen led me to a chair and then was at my beck and call for the next 10 minutes. He got my drop bag, filled my bottles and fetched me soup and coke. Joyce came in shortly after I sat down and sat in a chair next to me. John Opalko was sitting down nearby and not looking to good at that point. The guy two chairs down to my left was barfing. It pretty much looked like a MASH unit at that point. Joe had advised me to refuel and get ready for the next section which was reputed to be one of the most difficult with three big climbs. I had packed food to make a sandwich here, but opted for the soup instead. My caretaker had filled my neck bandana with ice and I had put it on and was starting to feel chilled. Joyce was really struggling. She couldn't eat and was very nauseated. The volunteers took her to a cot where she promptly threw up. Linda and I were about ready to head back out and went to check on Joyce. Her lips were white and she looked really bad. Despite my concern I knew I couldn't do more than the medical staff at the station. We told her good-bye and headed out. I hated to leave Joyce as we had spent most of the first half of the race together, but as with all these events, you are ultimately on your own.

LAST CHANCE TO DEVIL'S THUMB
("It Ought to be Easier"-Lyle Lovett)

I had put on a bottle belt and freed up one hand for the next section just as a change of pace. I sent Linda on as I stopped in the sun to make an equipment adjustment before moving on. I knew that the trail dropped off precipitously here before making the daunting climb up to Devil's Thumb. I needed to get warm so I started to run. With the drop in grade, I was starting to pick up speed. The trail plummeted down via switchbacks toward a creek valley. The trail was awesome single track and I began to fly. For about the third time I passed Scott from Wisconsin, who said "here comes Texas again!" as I spun past him on the trail. I probably passed 10 runners as I careened down the trail to the creek. When I got to the bottom, I thought there was going to be a "water only" aid station to refill my bottles. I was wrong. I hit the short bridge which crossed the creek as my new friend Greg from D.C. (by way of California) was walking along with a couple of safety patrol guys in their unmistakable red jerseys. A group of us were soon starting the climb up this demonic beast. The others were either local or had done this climb before. Devil's Thumb is less than a mile and a half climb, but it goes up 1600 feet in elevation grade in that short distance. There are 36 switchbacks on this climb that vary somewhat, but none are flat. Think of the big climb on Ken's loop where you can see 360 and do that 36 times. I wasn't anyway where near prepared for it. I fell in behind an older runner and trudged along. Several of the runners I had passed on the down hill into Deadwood Canyon now passed me on the hike up. I could feel my energy ebbing as I walked up. One of the runners said we had reached the halfway point so I hiked past the older runner and tried to push on. At last I thought I could see the familiar red shirt of an aid station volunteer through the trees ahead. The climb got steep one more time and I could now see that the aid station was just ahead. I looked to the left and there was the big outcropping that gave Devil's Thumb its name. I dropped into a chair after weighing in at my start weight. It had taken me 45+ minutes to climb that 1.25 miles. A cheery blonde woman attended to me as I wanted just a minute to rest. She got me soup and coke as I tried to get my shit together. It was a shady spot and late afternoon. With my sleeveless shirt on, I was getting cool quickly. Mike had said that he didn't remember the next climb up to Michigan Bluff to be too bad so I hoped that the worst was over. Wrong again!

DEVIL'S THUMB TO EL DORADO CREEK
("Runaway Train"-Trish Murphy)

I had to get running to warm up and the next section was tailor made for me. A 2600 foot drop over 5.1 miles. I was back in my element again.....rolling downhill switchbacks with sharp turns and tricky rocks here and there. It was delightful. I hammered it hard, stopping only occasionally to catch my breath for another long sprint down. I passed most, if not all, the runners who had passed me on the climb up Devil's Thumb. You could hear the water rushing in El Dorado Creek for miles before you got to the bottom. To my amazement I caught up with Mike Riggs. I was content to hang with Mike as we neared the aid station at the bottom. We refilled bottles and I stopped to drink a coke as Mike headed up the 1800 foot climb up to Michigan Bluff.

EL DORADO CREEK TO MICHIGAN BLUFF
(Dark afternoon of the soul)

It was just under 3 miles on this climb and Mike had thought it wasn't too bad last year. As it turned out his brain must have been numb from climbing Devil's Thumb. This beast seemed to go on forever. While it wasn't as steep as the Demon's Digit, it went on and on and on and on....
Mike was soon out of sight and I was slowing down. I had covered the 5 miles down to the creek in less than an hour and now I was reduced to a plod up this mountain. I couldn't breathe again, this time from the sheer exertion and not the altitude. Apparently the Devil had abandoned his perch on the Thumb and was now firmly perched on my shoulders and back: "This sucks!" "Why did I think this would be fun? This is not fun!" "Maybe I can just quit after 50 miles" "I don't want to do this anymore!" were just a few of the negative thoughts that now permeated my weary mind. My pace slowed even more as I dared to think "Well if I don't make the cutoff, then I don't have to be too sad about quitting." I was now wrestling with the hooved and winged monkey on my back and was losing badly. My plod became a trudge and my trudge slowed to a stumble until survival instinct kicked in. I was light-headed and queasy, but realized that I was also losing light and sun. In my wet sleeveless shirt, I was going to be at serious risk of hypothermia if I didn't get to my long sleeve shirt in my bag at Michigan Bluff. That was enough to motivate me to get up the hill. I could no longer run and despite the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd at the aid station (including Team Linda), I walked in to the aid station at 8 p.m.

MICHIGAN BLUFF AID STATION
("Poor Poor Pitiful Me"-Warren Zevon)

I weighed in and was okay, but told the medical staff that I didn't feel well. They offered me the 120 second blood test to check my sodium and hydration and I took it. They put me in a chair; brought me my bag and some soup and drew a few drops of blood. The ER doctor was great and they were fast. I saw others in a lot worse shape than me as I shed my wet shirt and put on my long sleeve capilene silkweight Bandera shirt. As I sat there resting and drinking broth, the doc came back and said: "Your sodium is 139 which is dead-on perfect, but your BUN and Creatinine show that you are a little dehydrated. You can go on if you want and I won't restrict anything you want to drink. It is up to you." Okay, it is up to me. That seemed appropriate enough. I wasn't hurting myself physically, it was all about the mental game. "Thanks, Doc." I readied myself to go as I saw Linda being prepped by her ace crew. She had made a wrong turn and had lost a lot of time. I was ready to go with my flashlight, but still felt chilled. When I asked Linda if she had an extra jacket, Greg Rust offered me his cotton sweatshirt off his back assuring me he had more clothes. I took it gratefully and ended up wearing it around my waist for most of the next section. I was still a little disoriented and after walking out ahead of Linda, I walked back trying to find the volunteer who checked you out so they would have your time.

MICHIGAN BLUFF TO FORESTHILL SCHOOL
("Running on Empty"-Jackson Browne)

Linda quickly caught up with me and we commiserated for a bit as we walked along the jeep road which was lined with beautiful flowers on vines. I knew that a third climb lay ahead, but decided that I would at least complete a 100K by making it to Foresthill 6.3 miles ahead. It was soon dark and the trail took a sharp downhill drop again. Linda urged me to go on :"You know you like to run it. Don't wait on me!" she said. And so I did. I latched onto Mariella Botella who was pacing Kim Pilcher. Down we went for a bit until I had to stop and catch my breath again. I hiked on down and mixed in a few runs. I was still struggling with my brain and attitude. The darkness seemed to engulf me from within and without. The third climb wasn't fun, but the dark helped to hide the grade. I finally made it up to Bath Road Aid Station (mile 60.2) where my pacer, Tim Hicks has planned to meet me to plot strategy for the second half. As I stopped to fill my bottle, one of the volunteers told me that Tim had gone on to take another runner in and would meet me at Foresthill or on the road back. That was fine. I was in a bad attitude spot and didn't really want to face Tim yet. Halfway to Foresthill from Bath Road, Tim came bounding toward me with his seemingly limitless enthusiasm and good cheer. I mumbled my hello and told him that I wasn't doing too good. We mostly focused on getting to the school and discussed only a little strategy. I had decided to skip the Camelbak as my shoulders had bothered me all day and I couldn't imagine lugging it around for 10 hours. We hit the pavement and I knew were getting close. At last Tim pointed out the lights of the school.

FORESTHILL SCHOOL
("You Get What You Give"-New Radicals)

I got a shuffle going as we turned into the parking lot and the announcer called out my name and the medical crew led me once again to the scales. My weight stayed good and a volunteer tried to help me out. He was soon overwhelmed by the whirling dervish of the best crew you could ever ask for: Tim, Joe, Joyce and Margo Riggs. Mike had been through about 40 minutes before me and Joyce had gotten pulled after narrowly missing the cutoff at Devil's Thumb. As Joe changed my shoes, Joyce fed me little bits of salted hamburger and fries while Margo got me drinks and Time went through the mental checklist of things I wanted to have. I changed into my Montrail Vitesse, delighted to put on some bigger shoes and some dry socks. I put on a long sleeve shirt and the new WS 100 vest I had just bought. Joyce kept feeding me bits of burger as I strapped on my IPOD. There was no time for second thoughts with this crew. Joe could see the struggle in my eyes and made sure that I didn't get a chance to feed the monkey. Perhaps it was the change of clothes or the food or (most likely) the sheer energy of the best impromptu crew you could ever ask for, but the demon monkey was no longer on my shoulders. Tim and I walked out right at 10:45 p.m., 15 minutes behind the 30 hour pace mark.

FORESTHILL TO RUCKY CHUCKY
("Take me to the River"-Talking Heads)

Tim told me that we were in for a tough night. He knew that we were right on the 30 hour pace and a lot could happen. He wisely took it a section at a time. We established that I would take the lead and he would follow. At night I like to be able to see the trail myself. Tim was flexible and let me lead. As soon as we started on the trail off of the street, we came across Linda Rust and her sister Stephanie. They were moving pretty slowly and I urged Linda to move it as we were right on the cutoff. I could hear the resignation in her voice. She had talked with me on the way out of Michigan Bluff that she didn't care if she made the 30 hours, she just wanted to finish. We left them and I started to run. The trail wound down along a creek/ditch. I was pysched to have such a rolling, mostly down grade to try to make up some time. Tim counted the runners we passed as I again pushed the pace on the downhills. The quads hurt, but weren't threatening to cramp so I decided to bank as much time as I could. Over the next two hours I think Tim counted 12 runners that we passed on this long plunge. I began to play the "energy vampire" and tried to suck as much juice from each runner and pacer that we passed along the way. By the time we reached Peachstone 8.7 miles from Foresthill School, two hours and 45 minutes had passed...not exactly blazing (19min./mile), but I made up some time on the cutoff. The next 7+ miles to Rucky Chucky were also downhill. I cranked on the IPOD and cruised down the hill. Tim and I would chat a bit and then I would pump up the jam and we would run down and down. Shortly before Rucky Chucky, the sleep monster tried to climb on board. While he got his claws on my heels, I somehow managed to beat him off my back with Espresso Hammer Gel, coke and rock n' roll. We rolled into Rucky Chucky and I had managed a negative split. That 7.3 miles had been covered at a 17 min./per mile pace.

RUCKY CHUCKY
("Down By the River"-Neil Young)

The crossing of the middle fork of the American River is typically one of the big landmarks of the WS 100. A cable is strung across the river and glowsticks are placed on the bottom of the river and runners make it across as best they can. This year with all the rain and snow melt, the River was running at 2000 cubic feet per second at the nearby dam. It is only safe to cross at 200 cubic feet per second, 10 times slower than the current rate. The Race was to provide rafts to help runners cross. The problem was that one of the oarsman didn't show up. One of the aid station volunteers pitched in and rowed runners across. When we arrived at 3:35 in the morning, there was a line waiting to cross. I caught up with Amanda Perron who had left me behind probably 40+ miles earlier. Tim and I only had to wait one more raft before crossing, unlike some who waited 20 minutes to cross. One woman came up to loudly protest that they should take runners first before pacers. The volunteers duly noted her protest and told her to get the hell back in line. The woman had a point as we were all close to the 30 hour cutoff and time seemed precious. Selfishly I was glad that Tim was next in line behind me. I was the last one on the raft so we crossed quickly and I got my feet wet on the other side. No matter. I had planned to make a sock and shoe change here anyway. I started my change as quickly as I could and then Tim joined me. I changed out and put on a lighter long sleeve shirt. I still lost precious time and we were back to being dead even with the 30 hour pace.

RUCKY CHUCKY TO HIGHWAY 49
("The Long Run"-The Eagles
and "Back to Even"-Bill Lloyd )

The trail out of Rucky is mostly a rough jeep road and is a short, but steep climb of just under 2 miles to Green Gate. I still took the lead and buoyed by the shoe change and clean shirt, tried to take this hill as quickly as I could. Tim kept me focused on the time and encouraged me while prodding me at the same time. "You're doing great!" was often followed by "we only have six minutes to spare." He worked me like a champ. Carrot and stick in hand he got me up to Green Gate. Team Linda was there, but I couldn't help Greg as I hadn't seen Linda since just out of Foresthill. Mile 80 now and there was more and more light in the sky which was a mixed blessing. The light would make it easier to stay awake and to see the trail, but it also told me that my time was limited. We covered the 5.4 miles to Auburn Lake Trails in 1:45. Back down to a 19 minute pace, but that included the climb out to Green Gate. I was still able to muster the energy to run thanks to Tim's help and the artificial power of my IPOD. The trail rolled a good bit now and I was still passing runners on the downhills. I would have a particularly good stretch of running and Tim would urge me to "play that song again". I smiled and kept plugging away. When we would come up behind someone, I would start to slow down and adopt their pace. Tim did a good job when they asked if I wanted to go by of saying "YES!". This prodded me to move faster to stay ahead even if it was only a power walk. After Auburn Lake Trails, we began to play chase with a couple of runners and pacers, including Amanda P. But no one could stay my pace on the down hills (sometimes not even Tim as on one sharp turn, he nearly slid off the single track off the side into the valley below). Once I saw he was still upright I kept going on. I pounded away with The Who blasting through my ears. The powerful strains of "Baba O'Reilly" and the refrain of "Teenage Wasteland...its only Teenage Wasteland...They're all Wasted!" spurring my own wasted body onward. We zipped through the hashers' aid station at Brown's Bar, now a gaudy 12 minutes ahead of 30 hour pace.

But Tim was taking no chances. We were 90 miles into it and Highway 49 next. Highway 49 Aid Station was the last chance for a drop bag and the sun was climbing. Off we went I was now determined to bank as much time as I could, knowing my propensity to run out of gas at the end of long races. I did NOT want to run the last 1.5 miles of uphill paved road to Placer High in order to get under 30 hours. The sun was starting to really warm things up now as I could hear the highway and Tim pointed out the landmarks. We had a bit of a climb up before going down into the aid station which was a real struggle. But then it was downhill to the aid station. Again a negative split for the last 8.3 miles which I covered at a 16+min. per mile pace. I weighed in safely and quickly changed into a short sleeve shirt (Mustard yellow Patagonia Guadalupe Traverse 2004) and ditched my bottle belt, opting for a single bottle for the last 6.7 miles. I grabbed my sunglasses and we were off. I was now a mere 11 minutes under 30 hour pace.

HIGHWAY 49 TO PLACER HIGH SCHOOL
("Runnin' Down a Dream"-Tom Petty)

Despite (or because of) the progress we had made, I was feeling pretty whipped. The trail started off through a gorgeous meadow. It was flat, flat and I couldn't seem to muster the energy to do anything but power walk it. Tim tried to get me to run, but I just didn't have it in me. We hiked through the meadow which mercifully began to take a downward slant. I managed to start a shuffling trot as Tim said "Good! Good!" behind me. We followed the single track into more trees and the shade seemed to help me. We hit a rolling switchback or two and I kept running. I wasn't running fast, but I wasn't walking. It took me 50 minutes to cover the 3.3 miles to No Hands Bridge. Again it wasn't exactly a scintillating pace (15 min. per mile), but it was still faster than I had been going. Perhaps I could smell the hay in the loft. We came down off a climb down to No Hands Bridge and quickly filled my bottle and kept going. This is a long, wide open bridge with many well-wishers cheering on the runners as they staggered across the bridge. Below the river was running fast and wide with many noisy rapids. We were now in full baking sunshine. Runners struggled to walk ahead of us and a quick walk was all I could muster as well. At this point I know that I have an hour and nineteen minutes to cover 3.4 miles. I KNOW now that I am going to make it and reach back to grip hands with Tim and say "Thanks". After a short climb we came back down to the main jeep road along the river headed for Robie Point. At this point the trail leaves the levee road and heads up...straight up toward Robie Point and the last checkpoint. It was a battle now. After all the downhill the sharp climb seemed like Devil's Thumb again. I kept my head down and put one foot in front of the other. Suddenly a woman on a horse (not part of the race) comes crashing down the trail, yelling at us to give way. "Yeah...right!" I thought as she brushed by with an angry look on her face. Up we went and finally got to the paved parking lot at Robie Point. There are crew and family and fans all over waiting for their runners. Messages have been written in chalk on the pavement. It is a cruel uphill to the finish. I plod up now, not caring to overtake any runners, knowing I can make it under 30 even if I must crawl to do so. The hill leads to another hill and then another. I'm starting to think that this will never end. But I know that it will because we drove this on Thursday. And the end is on the high school track and I AM GOING TO MAKE IT! We finally start down the last hill as neighbors cheer. Then I see Joe....and then Joyce. They wave and walk up to greet us. "You did it!" We were worried about you!" they say. That made it unanimous. Joe tells me that Mike just finished. I can't believe I had gotten even that close to him. Tim and I enter the stadium and I start my shuffling finish line run, praying that nothing will cramp up. The soft track feels good after the last mile or so of pavement. I hear the crowd cheering and see Meredith and Doug across the infield. Tim hangs with me to the final curve and then turns me loose to take the glory alone. What a great guy and super pacer!

I smile as I hear the beep of the chip mat and am congratulated by race officials. 29:38. I somehow got 22 minutes ahead of the 30 hour pace and even finished the last 3.4 miles at an 18 min./mile pace going mostly uphill.

I sat down to get my blood drawn for the control experiment and to be sure that everything was okay. Joyce brings me some cold water and the medical guys starts to ask me questions about the pain experiment. As I am answering his questions, I start getting lightheaded. Meredith (thankfully) is watching over me. "I don't feel too good. I think I'm going to pass out." I say to the medical volunteer. He and Meredith get me down on the ground with Mer making sure that they get me in the shade. The same doctor I saw at Michigan Bluff is there and checks on me. I'm okay. I just needed to get prone. I drink coke and water and gradually get up to a sitting position. From there it is into a chair for a short rest. Before long I am good to go and head for the shower on rapidly tightening legs. Remarkably after I started taking more e-caps (double dose) at Robinson Flat (mile 24), I had ZERO muscle cramps. I only fell in the snow a few times and bruised and scraped one knee from that early section of the race. I rolled an ankle at about mile 85, but it was no big deal. I was pretty much injury-free. While I had some delusions that I might be able to finish in 26 hours, I realized that was an unrealistic goal for me. I was quite fortunate to have made it in under 30 hours. Tim wrung everything out of me that he could and the downhill course from Foresthill saved me. There was little downhill on the course that I didn't run pretty hard. I was not nearly as prepared for this race as I thought I was. I needed to work on more long climbs and hiking hill repeats to deal with the three big hills after Last Chance. My downhill running couldn't have been any better and made the race for me. I was also not prepared for the effects of the altitude in the first part of the course. I got behind from the snow and the elevation and it was a nip and tuck battle to survive after that. But I did survive. Thanks to my pacer and my "crew", I rolled out of Foresthill, bloodied but unbowed. The mind monkey rode me hard and nearly won. This sport really is mostly mental. Absent a true medical issue, only your mind can keep you from succeeding. That is a lesson I learned at this race and will probably have to learn again, but it is one worth remembering.