Green Gate to Auburn

It was deep into the night when Goldie started talking about this memorial. It was built for a runner who was killed by a mountain lion on the trail some years ago. I'd heard about it but never seen it. We both wanted to show our respect to a fallen comrade. Of course, as was the case the entire night, neither of us knew exactly where we were, or where what we were looking for, was. We rounded a bend and saw some lights. I realized we had almost reached ALT. We had left Green Gate about an hour and a half earlier. I was excited to get to some food and see if I could put anything down.

Auburn Lake Trails ALT (85.2 miles) 3:56am
Per our routine Goldie slowed down and told me to go ahead. The aid station was only a couple hundred yards around the bend, so I scampered as fast as I could to it. We had gained another 10 minutes on my splits and were now up 1:52. Upon entering I was greeted by a medic who escorted me to the scale. Like clockwork I was still hovering right around 189. I had trouble standing still on the scale because my feet hurt. I got off the scale and had this conversation with the medic.

Medic:"are you feeling OK".
Me: Jokingly  "you'll need to talk to my slave driving pacer..she's kicking my ass with all this running" as I rocked back and forth and side to side.
Medic: "You need to sit down" he exclaimed.
Me: "No thanks, I need to get out of here no time to waste"
Medic: "No really, you are hypoglycemic, I need you to sit down"
Me: "Hypo what.....? I'm fine, just need to get some food."
Medic: "Sit down and I'll get you some"
Me: "No! I'm fine, why do you think I am not?"
Medic: "You cant even stand up on your feet, please sit down."
Me "No, talk to my pacer, I'm doing fine, I just have some blisters that hurt".....I left him and went to the food table.

At that point Goldie showed up and I overheard her and the medic talking. Something about he's fine he just has bad blisters and is having trouble standing still. A couple of seconds later they both came over to me and I started to get very defensive. Goldie asked me how I was doing and I once again said fine. I looked at the medic and he did something that is generally not wise if you want me to stay calm. Tell me I can't do something.

Medic: "Look you won't make it 20 feet out of this aid station in the state you are in"
Me: Then how the (might have been an bad word thrown in here) did I just run 30 miles on these feet?
Medic: I'll need to see your feet then.

I looked at Goldie and said "I'm done, I can not make this decision, what do I do?" I'm not even sure Goldie had a chance to say anything before I realized I could do nothing. He was not going to let me leave so I just had to give in and sit down. He grabbed a chair and took off my left shoe, took my sock off and nodded.

Medic "Yep you got some blisters there"
Me: Holding back swear words and not nice things...."yep"
Medic: "Let me redress this."
Me: "No.....ahhh whatever."

I'd finally given in to the chair and the medic. He redressed the wounds (poorly I might add) that the awesome foot doc had given me at Michigan Bluff and put the shoe back on. Meanwhile Goldie had grabbed some fruit and broth for me to sip. On the bright side, those went down just fine, my stomach was back. Then the medic grabbed my other foot and did the same. Once he finished, they got me back on my feet and I was shivering like you could not believe. Goldie and the medic escorted me over to the bonfire and wrapped me up with one of those silver emergency blankets.

You could not imagine what was going through my head. I'm sitting there shivering with 15 miles to go. It's a good thing I was shivering because I was shaking my head because I was so mad. I have dreamed of this race for half my life, and I'm basically sitting around a campfire like a third grader listening to campfire stories. This was not the way I had imagined things. The medic kept saying "you have a ton of time just rest a bit" or something close to that. I finally could not take it anymore and stood up and said "lets do this".

Before I move on from this, I need to make it clear that the medic did everything right. He was wise to question me. I do not doubt for a minute that runners will attempt to deceive them so they can leave and in doing so put themselves at a health risk (I know I would). The race is then at risk, the medic himself is also at risk, should something actually go wrong. He and I both could have handled things much better, heck had I even known at that point what hypoglycemic meant (low sugar) I could have eaten a ton of fruit to shut him up. This was confusion by circumstance, thinking back on it afterwards, it just adds to the flavor of the experience. I would be wise to remember this the next time I have a conflict with a volunteer at a race.

That being said, I do not know how long I was there but it felt like 20-30 minutes. It may have been 5 or 15 really, but the fact I lost nearly 20 minutes on my next split, leads me to believe it was a while. The grand total of sitting on my rear end because of the blisters at Michigan Bluff and ALT was easily over an hour.

Goldie and I set out down the hill leading to the the next aid station at Browns Bar. I had a full head of angry steam built up. My feet now hurt again because of the redressing, as well as having been off them for so long. Normally when I am really mad I have a rush of adrenaline that I just can not handle. This time it was much different. I went from coherent and an adult, to totally discombobulated and a young child at that aid station. The frustration of the aid station zapped all my strength and energy. The entire race I had strategically run well, now I had no ability to think. I could not make a decision, and could barely answer questions when Goldie asked them. Our conversations consisted of 1 to 4 word answers from me. This was now the time Goldie was going to earn her keep. I would need her from here on out to get me through to the finish. I was in no shape to do it myself, at this point.

I do not remember much about this section other than it being green and full of trees. We kept looking for the monument but did not see it. What I do remember is for the first time since Michigan Bluff someone passed me, he was being paced by a local runner from Reno. This older gentleman known for running with a feather in his cap is a fantastic runner, something of a legend in Reno, and he really had his runner moving along. I could not keep up. We passed them about a mile later and I had brief thought of being a stud for having run them down, only to realize they must have just pulled off to go to the bathroom. They promtly passed me a minute after I had passed them, then they were gone and Goldie and I were alone again.

Browns Bar (89.9 miles) 5:28am
Finally after about an hour we started to hear the Browns Bar aid station. Like many of the aid stations the volunteers here were up all night. They are known for playing loud rock music and  having a couple of drinks while they work. Once again we pulled into the aid station with me in front and Goldie meeting me a minute or two later. I was now only up 1:37 on my splits, I had lost 15 minutes over those 4 miles. I actually think we ran faster than we had been so I would say 20 minutes is about right, all from the last aid station. I was able to get some broth and some cookies down and refilled my pack. I was starting to have a really hard time getting moving at this point.

We reached the road by the river that leads to the quarry and it started to get light outside. Goldie could sense my mental demise and she actually started asking me if I wanted to stop and walk. My response would always be the same. "Yes please, could we please?", I had officially become a child mentally. I finally, after one of the many stops apologized to Goldie. "I'm so sorry for how slow we are going, I just feel horrible" I said. I figured what would come out of her mouth would be something like, "that's OK, just keep chugging along". However, that is not what she said.

Goldie looked back at me almost angrily and said. "You do NOT feel horrible, you are still running. You are doing great, now take a gel and lets go!" Tough love, but ohhhhh so correct. She was right, I really did not feel any worse than say the last 2-3 hours, I just was stuck thinking about it, every step I took. Probably because I was low on energy, hence her telling me to take a gel. Once again, the experience she had in her head was truly magnificent. It's crazy how after that long expending energy time starts to blend together. Minutes can feel like hours, hours can feel like seconds and seconds can also feel like forever. I think it is highly mood based. It is so easy to get caught up on what is around you and forget about the things it takes for you to keep going. I hope someday I can pass along the knowledge I gained from this experience to someone else, and also one day, repay Goldie by running her into the ground!

This road by the river sucks, it winds with the river and goes up and down. Nothing serious just enough to frustrate at 88 miles on your feet. We finally got to the point where you get back on to some single track and Goldie made her only mistake of the entire race. We slowed to a halt and she pointed up to the top of the mountain. She said "Brandon, your crew is right there waiting for you, we are almost there"

My Crew at Hwy 49 Aid Station about 5 in the morning.

I looked at Goldie with what I would imagine was a most gruesome face. Like someone who just watched their dog get run over by a car in the street right in front of them. I said " That does not make me feel any better". What Goldie did not know was I am a data freak and I knew exactly how far and how far UP my crew was. 3 miles and 1500 feet of climbing. When she pointed to the spot, my initial thought was "great that's 3 miles, then I have another 7 to the finish.10 freaking miles is 1/10 of the race I still have a whole tenth of the race to go". I saw Goldie's face go from happy to "Oh crap what did I just do" in a split second. I felt so bad, but I could not get the words out to apologize. I knew she was just trying to get me fired up.

Fortunately I still had climbing legs and we pushed the pace up that hill to my crew. All told, of my 3 training partners who all finished well ahead of me I climbed that section the fastest. Of course the fact I did not run the first 88 miles as fast surely is the reason but I was actually moving pretty quick. I do not remember a single thing about the climb until we got to the chain link fence separating us from the quarry. You could hear the cars from the road and Goldie yelled out "we are here Brandon".

This was the point I was done with running.

We had finally hit the point where I no longer wanted to run, I had assumed I was far enough in front of the cutoff's that I could walk it in. This is what I love most about 100 mile races, they break you mentally and physically. I've learned through the years that I like to push my limits and see where I break. Most people have never seen me just give up, it is a very rare event. Both hundreds I've run though,  I reached that point. The point where I said enough is enough, I quit. This day at Western States I made it 93.4 miles before I gave up, I know the exact place I made the decision I did not want to run anymore. About 40 feet before we crossed Hwy 49 to get to the aid station. I saw my crew and all I wanted to do was sit with them. I wanted Queen Doom to hold me and tell me that everything was alright. I wanted the race to be over, the pain to stop, but mostly I wanted someone to supply me with a reason to make stopping OK.

Hwy 49 Aid Station (93.5 miles) 6:33am

Get this pack off of me, get me weighed and let me sit down!

We entered the aid station and had gained back 28 minutes on my splits giving us a cool buffer of 2 hours and 5 minutes on them. It was morning now and my crew looked great. I, however, felt like someone hit me with a truck and kept backing up and pulling forward over me with every step. I got on the scales and hit my mark then turned around and walked over to Queen Doom. The emotions of the night, the fact I was just over 6 miles from the finish and the sight of my friends who were crewing me was too much to handle. I wanted to continue on, but by walking not running. I just did not see the point. I had made a promise to my crew that at this aid station I would put on a TuTu in thanks for their efforts through the day and night. I went over to them and they put it on the ground and asked me to step into it.

Not my happy face.

I just looked at them and said "no, I cant lift my feet that high you have to put it on over my head".  I now had entered into the wussy stage of my run. I'm standing there looking at them just hoping someone says that I look so bad I should stop. Of course no one does. More words of wisdom come flying out of Goldie's mouth. "Take your pack off you are going light the rest of the way. Take this hand bottle. I want you to drain that by the time we get to the next aid station. I need you to drink Brandon".

Jesus, can anyone just take some pity on me? Do any of you know how bad I feel right now, I kept thinking to myself. Of course they knew, but like a great crew and pacer they also knew how much this meant to me and that I just was not thinking clearly. I was in no health danger I just felt bad, exhausted, like everyone does at this point. That is what having a great pacer and crew is all about, they keep you going even when you do not want to, or, do not think you can. At that moment I did not think it possible for me to take another running step.

With TuTu and hand bottle, I left for the steep incline out of the aid station. All I could hear was my crew cheering for me. "You are going to finish Brandon", one of them yelled. I heard it, I felt it, I realized at that moment, yes I was going to finish and complete my dream. Instantly my mood went from sour to not so sour. I did a little booty shake with the TuTu. Later I was told by my crew they were very worried about me the entire time I was at that aid station until that moment, then they all turned around an knew I was OK. I was coming back from the dead so to speak.

Heading out of the aid station.

You have to climb up this steep but short hill leaving Hwy 49. We crested the top to the beautiful meadow and saw another runner. All through the night we had been literally right in between two packs of runners one on each side of us. We were faster than the trailing pack and not quite as fast as the leading one. We really did not see anyone on the trail save for just a few. Seeing a runner got me a little bit jazzed and we started jogging. Mood shifts happen often and quickly in these races if you could not tell all ready. We passed the runner and his pacer, said "good job" and moved on. Goldie was now pushing the pace more than I could handle and I was getting irritated. Not at her, just at the fact I could not keep up. She asked if I wanted to stop and walk and in a very snarky way I said "you do know what the answer is, if you ask me that........don't you?" Fortunately she did not drop me right there.

A couple minutes later the second runner to pass me since Michigan Bluff, blew right past me. This lady was running so hard and fast and I could not fathom how she was doing it. Goldie looked at me and knew, there was no way I could muster that kind of effort at that point. We let her go and I never saw her again. Somehow Goldie kept me moving swiftly. I did not want to run, heck I did not want to even walk fast, but whatever methods she used she kept me going at a pretty fast pace. We walked often on this stretch, but really only for a couple of steps then she would start an ultra jog. We rinsed and repeated this so many times and it worked, but I did not like much of this stretch.

We finally hit No Hands Bridge and I filled my bottle, at least I was still listening to Goldie. She told me to drain it and I did. I knew now, with only 3.4 miles to go, exactly what I was in for. A tough climb to the next aid station then we run through Auburn on the street. We got to the base of the climb and Goldie told me to stay strong. I said something like, "you just make sure to tell me what I need to do and I'll do it." I had not yet gotten all my mojo back but I could feel it coming on. I knew once we crested that hill things would be alright.

We got within a couple hundred feet of Robie Point, the last aid station just 1.3 miles away. I chose not to stop in favor of getting things over with. Goldie stopped to talk to one of the workers then ran up to me. She was so excited and said "Brandon, it's 8:05".

I looked at her and said "what does that mean?" I was so out of it mentally, I could not figure out what time that was in the race. 27 hours was the actual race time, and Goldie just simply said "you are going to finish fast!" She meant, fast, as in way faster than my goal time, what I heard, was get going you need to finish fast. Still, like a child listening to their parent, I took off in a jog up the hill. She said something like "OK we can run if you want", but all I heard was RUN!

I saw two of my crew members near the top of the hill, the Doc and Half Iron Woman had jogged down to meet me. I was so happy to have glasses on at this point and to be sweating profusely from the face. No one could tell I had tears falling from my eyes. Near the top of the hill there are flags hanging from a line way above our heads. Goldie had told me about this earlier and so I ran under the American flag kissed my hand and blew it up to the flag. Just like I did all day, I paid homage to the course one last time.

Goldie and my two crew members were trailing me by a couple of feet. I remember Goldie saying something like "When I tell you too, run hard, Brandon". Like all night I did exactly what she said, and like most of the last hours I misinterpreted what she meant. I still thought I was close to the cut offs, I thought she was telling me to run for fear of things being too close. When Goldie yelled "RUN BRANDON" I took off like bull charging a matador. We were running down the street, I was breathing harder than at any point in the race, we made the final two turns and entered the track at Placer High School. I saw Scotch Man to the side of the track but I did not stop for him. I could not hear anything, I had tunnel vision. All I knew was I had to get to that line as quick as possible. I ended up dropping my crew on the track! I rounded the last turn on the track and saw the timing board.

Placer High School Track, Auburn CA (100.2 Miles) 8:19:15am
What the hell? I thought to myself, that is not right they must have started it late. 27 hours 19 minutes 0 seconds the clock read as I ran towards it. I'm in complete disbelief, there is no way with the day I had I was nearly 3 hours ahead of the 30 hour cutoff. I ran through the finish in 27:19:15 (thank you cool weather!).

I did my happy dance that I had been waiting so long to do on that track.  My first coach AJW, was there to give me my medal. Just like he did at my first 50 mile race.

Queen Doom was there to greet me in the medic tent as they took some vitals. I hugged her. I said something I have been waiting to say for so long. "I'm so proud of myself, we did it baby. We actually got me to the finish line, can you believe it?" That hug lasted a century and it's my most happy moment of the entire event. This singular event had morphed from a solo mission, to a team of people helping me achieve something I wanted so badly, the chief driving force of that group was Queen Doom.

The next 15 minutes were the most perfect of my life. My entire crew was there waiting for me, many people from Reno Running and Fitness were there cheering me on and to my surprise a lot of my burning man friends had made the trip down so early in the morning to share in my accomplishment.

The Deyglofarians!

I said some hello's and got some hugs, took pictures and such. Then right there just off to the side of the finish area I sat down (which hurt like hell) and took off my shoes. My feet were an absolute mess, but I did not care. My rear end hurt like nothing I have ever felt (and would for weeks), my legs were sore, but all I could do was sit there and bask in the glory of accomplishing my goal. I'd have gladly taken 10 times the pain for that moment. Knowing all the issues I'd overcome in the three years of running, it was all worth it for that moment of greatness. This was the most epic thing I'd ever done. I'd stayed true to myself, I battled everything life threw at me and I finally had come out the other side successful. I would imagine each and every runner felt like I did. I've learned so much from this experience and I have so many to thank (that will have to be a post on it's own).

I never intended running to become a permanent fixture in my life. I started this with the goal of finishing States and moving on. I learned, that I really love to run, and I love to run far. I'm never going to be an elite athlete at this sport, the best I can hope to achieve is constantly challenging myself. I now know, I do not need to be the best out there to be proud, I just need to be the best that I can be. I had all these epiphanies while on that 27 hour run. They may seem small to you, but they are my own mountains to conquer. Devil's Thumb and the other climbs were not the only hurdles I needed to get over this day. It's really true what they say, in a 100 mile foot race you will go through a lifetime of emotions. I'll also add, if you are fortunate enough to get to the finish you will be a better person than when you started.

Sitting at that finish on the grass with so many friends around me I finally figured something out. I knew right then and there, I needed to change. I no longer could hold onto the regrets I'd had for so many years. I needed to cut myself some slack. Had I not gone through those things, I would not be here today. Today I loved exactly where I was, who I was, and everyone who was around me.

I am going to do some outrageous things in running for the rest of my life. I intend on pushing myself beyond my current limits to see what happens. I have plans already for my next run and while it will not live up to this one (I doubt any run ever will), it will be special in it's own right. I feel like there is a whole new world of possibilities that I am capable of achieving, and that's a hell of a place to be 1/3 of the way through my life.

I will be back someday and I will get that Silver 24 hour "100 miles in 1 day" buckle! But for now....this one looks damn good!

The bronze 100 mile buckle! 

4 days and counting....

4 days and counting….

Winning the lotto….

I’d finally completed the toughest hurdle. I ran a very tough mountain 100 mile race and in my mind. I had what it took to complete Western States, and all it was needed was 7 months of getting my tail kicked! Granted the 2 courses are not the same, but I was reasonably sure that the cumulative effort level it would take to complete both would be somewhat close. I’d later learn, this is not really the case, the two courses are completely different and while the total effort might be close the muscles you use are vastly different.

I now had a couple months to rest before I had to sign up for the Lottery for Western States. In a perfect world 3 weeks after the Tahoe race I’d been back at it running, but life is rarely, if ever perfect. I came down with a string of odd illnesses and minor injuries that basically kept me from running until October. I never get sick, but I was sick for 3 straight months it seemed. I highly underestimated the effect running 100 miles would have on my bodies various systems. I think it largely stemmed from my rapid increase from couch potato to 100 mile runner in 2.5 years. Specifically the fact that I had spent more than 1 year of those 2.5 injured. My body just shut down from all the stress I caused it in the Tahoe race.

I’d lost some fitness, gained a bit of weight back but once I started running again things were just right with my world. I entered the States lotto with no expectations other than to be in it. I knew the numbers, about a 10% chance to get in.

The morning of the Lotto I had volunteered to take a couple of friends down who were vying for a spot in the race as well. I have always had this nightmare about not waking up to my alarm, it pretty much never actually happens but just before I go to bed I almost always think “you better hear that thing”. Well, the morning of the lotto, I was to be at the gas station to pick everyone up early in the morning and guess what…..I missed my alarm. Not a good sign for the day!

I got a wake up call instead from a friend at the gas station. I hoped out of bed and got out the door as fast as I could. We ended up making it in plenty of time, but that was not the start to the day I wanted. Once at the lottery you could feel the vibe in the air. They call each persons name that makes it and if they are in attendance they get some extra prize swag.

It’s tough being there. You really want your name called but do not expect it. You are so happy for the people who are called, but each one takes one more chance away from you yourself getting into the big dance. There was so much emotion on the face of so many people, I never intended on this part of the experience being so moving but it was. Seeing people who had waited 3-5 years just to get their chance was such a treat. It also helped calm my expectations. Like everything in this sport, it just takes time; time for your body to adapt, time for you to build a base of weekly miles, time to recover and time, maybe years, to get into the race.

By the time they started calling the last couple of names, I realized this in fact would not be the year I got in. I rationalized it by saying I had a lot to learn and it was a good thing. However deep down there was a lot of disappointment, I’m still an uber impatient individual and I hate it when I am forced into corners that I did not choose of my own free will.

Fortunately for the people I brought down to the lotto, there was one other chance to get in. In order to have a strong international contingent, the race holds another lottery for anyone not hailing from the U.S. Both my friends were dejected they did not make it into the first mass lottery so they went for a run. None of us knew when the foreign lottery would take place but since they hailed from Mexico and Lithuania they still had a shot. It turns out while they were running that lottery was taking place behind closed doors somewhere.

They called me to go pick them up after their run and as I pulled into what is mile 98.3 on the course one of their phones rang. It was the owner of Reno Running and Fitness calling to tell them they had both made it in! Instantly my mood went from bummed out to this eruption of happiness. I ran over to my pacer from Tahoe and picked him up and sprinted up a hill while carrying him. We had talked for so many hours that night running in Tahoe about wanting to be in this race and if I could not be in it, the next best thing was for him to be. The fact my other friend made it in was just icing on the cake.

Once things calmed down I told them both to take their crap out of my car and run their ass’s home, they would need to start training now! The car ride home was a mix of emotions, I could tell they were shocked and I think they were a bit guarded as to how they were acting since I did not make it in. Honestly I was so happy for them nothing could have brought me down. I knew I’d be on one of their crews and maybe even be able to pace them and we would ultimately share the experience together.

This would be a great ending to a story, but as has been the case since I started running there would be many more up’s and down’s to the journey. Remember that Aid Station I’ve worked my butt off the last two years at? The one run by the local club the Silver State Striders? Well they get 1 spot to give to someone for the race. That aid station captain who asked me to come back in 2010, the one whom I’ve known since I ski raced with his son, informed me that I met the criteria for their private lotto. I now had a 1 in 6 shot of getting in! This was why I worked so hard that day at Foresthill, I just knew at some point someone would see how bad I wanted this and it would pay off. I’d cut my chances from 1 in 10 to 1 in 6, things were looking up.

The next week before a run they dropped 6 tiny pieces of paper into a hat. The first and only one that came out had my name on it. Holy Shit! What? I could not believe it. I was in. I immediately ran back to my car to call my girlfriend. I was welling up and leaking at the face, while I told her we had plans for late June. After 16 years, I was into the race. I finally had a chance to close some old wounds and regrets I’d been hanging on to for years. I was going to get the chance to see if I could be like those mega athletes I saw on that TV special, whilst sitting in bed unable to walk.

It was just about a week away from Christmas, and I’d won the second lottery to get into States, one day later I found out I won 2 other lotteries. I won one to get into the largest 50k race in the country, the Way2Cool 50k in early 2012 and I also won the lottery for 2 Burning Man tickets….all in one week!

2011 was turning out to be a banner year and I was so excited for 2012. I finally had a handle on things and nothing was going to stop me! That mostly held true for 14 days into the new year, when an all too familiar foe came back to haunt me.

9 Days and Counting.....

I had achieved what I wanted and so much more working the aid station at Foresthill. The owners of Reno Running and Fitness facebooked me and asked if I could meet them after work one day to go over some marketing ideas. I was glad to help, but a bit weary of what I may be getting into…..again the word social is generally not used to describe me in a lot of situations, running being one of them. Even when I am running in a group of friends, I often find myself taking as much “me” time as I can and run alone.

I met them at a local pizza place and gave them the rundown on what I thought of the company they had going. It is not your standard running group, there is a fee for each session but they provide all the aid for the runs, they bring in local runners for lectures, and customized training plans for the events that you are doing. They also meet Tuesdays and Saturdays at some local spots in town for their runs. All in all it is a pretty great deal, especially if you are new to running.

I’d been on the couch for so long with my injury (about 6 months or so) I’d gained a fair bit of weight but did not know it at the time. I was so nervous the first day I ran with the new group, I do not think I talked to a single person. I came home and told my girlfriend that I was not sure it was for me but I’d give it an entire session since I was training for the California International Marathon (C.I.M.) in early December, and they were sending a group down there as well.

It probably took me a month before I got up the nerve to be friendly. It had nothing to do with the group, I am just like that. Many people tried to coax me along, but like usual, it just took some time for me to get comfortable. Once I got to that point though, I found some amazing people and stories to motivate me.

They taught me to build weekly miles slowly, how to pace myself (well I’m still working on that one), and they introduced me to some of their motivational lectures they have each session. The first one I attended had a great panel of runners. The eventual president of the Western States board was there speaking as well. I got to hear many stories about races I had only dreamed about since I started running ultras. The other benefit was they run mostly on the flat stuff, so theoretically I should not have problems with the foot. I figured I'd build up a good base and get my foot strong before I subjected it to the hills again.

I got to C.I.M. and I was entered into the Clydesdale division, that’s basically anyone over 200lbs. I hoped on the scale and saw a horrifying number…..221lbs. What the F%$K? How did this happen, I’d been a steady 205lbs since I graduated high school. I’d been training for a marathon for 2.5 months and I lost no weight. The answer is quite simple, sitting on your ass for 6 months with a bum leg will do that to you. Especially when you keep eating like you are running daily. Once I started training again I kept on eating, clearly the calories in equaled or were greater than the calories out…hence no weight loss.

I ran the race and did quite well for the amount of time I had been back running. I finished right around the 4:20 mark and enjoyed the day immensely. I actually enjoyed running on the road. I also learned there might be something to this coaching/advice thing. I was injury free so far, enjoyed both the training and the race and was once again motivated to get back on track with my journey to Western States.

In my down time with the injury I had been studying a lot of past results for Western States. I looked up the people who finished high in the standings and searched to see if they had blogs. I found a couple and had been following them for months. About 2 weeks after CIM, one blogger posted that he was taking a couple of new clients to coach for Western States. I’ll call him Mr. Consistent (Mr. C), mainly because the guy had finished in the top 10 at Western States every year he’d run the race. I immediately emailed him and told him this was my dream. Though I was not entered this year for the race, I was entered into the Tahoe Rim Trail 100 that coming July.

He replied back to me and said he would be happy to be my coach. Wow, I had a near legend of the race I have been dreaming about now coaching me. I was so delighted and enthused, then he sent me my first weeks schedule and I about crapped myself. 7 days a week running? What, who does that? I had less than a month to go from a casual 30 mile 3-4 day a week runner to an uber serious 7 day a week runner. I was so scared my body, particularly my foot, would not hold up. I was heavier than I’d ever been and now I had to run more than I ever had.