Squaw Valley to Robinson Flat

(The above video was shot by one of my training partners, this was my last run before the race, this is the first 30 miles of the Western States course. The same 30 talked about in this post.....I would get no sun on race day. All pictures were taken prior to race day) 


Dead Last! I'm not sure I've ever been dead last in a running race before. Back of the pack sure, but the very last runner? Don't think so. Determined to let that fact fall to the ground like the droplets of water that were forming on my jacket, I pressed my chin into my chest and made a climbing effort equal to what was needed to catch up. I had a plan and I was going to run my plan.

By the time we reached the mid point of the climb up Squaw I was neck and neck with the first person to ever complete the run in 1974, a guy named Gordy. I was roasting and took off my jacket. Huge mistake, within a minute I was cold, and being lazy I decided to put it on over my pack rather than deal with taking that off again. This turned out to be a good thing, once the jacket was zipped up I could position the water tube from my pack right next to my mouth and it would not move because of the jackets zipper. The tube poked my face as I ran and reminded me to drink. I need to come up with an invention for this on hot days. Hands free drinking!

Water fell from the sky in many forms at this point, hail, rain, and this snowy-hail like substance that pelted the skin. Winds had picked up to probably 20-50mph gusts and I knew from being on this mountain so much, that it would only get worse until we reached 2 miles off the back side. There would be trees at that point and they would give us some shelter. 

Escarpment (3 miles) Time unknown.

Just to the left of that ski lift is the Escarpment Aid Station, much lower on the hill than I expected.

I saw a sign that said Escarpment .2 miles. Wait, I am over a mile from the top, what is going on? I looked at my pacer sheet, then at my watch. I then realized I made the poor assumption of thinking this first aid station in the race was at the top of the mountain. It is not, it sits just above the old Nastar starting hut.  Once past the aid station we climb up a very steep (40% grade at least) but short climb to another service road that takes us up and over the mountain. I crested the top of Squaw at 6:13, a mere 2 minutes before my pace sheet said I should. This is great I now have banked 2 minutes to squat in the woods. Yep by this time, I was getting that grumble down under that only a stop in the woods can fix. Knowing the trail, I knew the perfect spot to take a private break was only 2 miles away. I could get there at this pace in about 24 minutes. I clamped my cheeks tighter than a bear trap and hoped nobody made me laugh and that I would not trip, as I knew either would result an unwanted consequence.

I felt so bad for the people in shorts and tank tops, they looked chilled to the bone. I did have to wonder if they went to the runners meeting the day before, they warned us it would be 34 degrees. Of course in that same vein, I knew the temps and still decided to bring so many gummy worms...know what happens at 34 degrees to gummy worms? Gummy bricks hard as ice. Now I'm stuck with only gels until things warm up. I was running next to a guy from South Carolina, he was in a tank top and looked frozen solid. All he could do was worry about going down the switchbacks we would face some 40 miles from our current position. I said "you are this cold and it's the switchbacks that are worrying you?" He said he never got a chance to train on downhills this year. I cringed when he said this and offered up the only advice I could. "Walk as much as you need, and start slowing down way before each turn on the switchbacks. Throwing the brakes on just before a turn to gain a couple extra seconds is what kills your quads". 

I made my way up the little stream we had to ascend and saw my rainy cold oasis in the woods. A perfect outcropping of three trees where I could do my business, be discrete and still keep track of the number of people who were passing me (there I go again thinking about placing). I made my way off course a couple hundred feet, took off my pack grabbed my toilet paper baggy, dug a hole with my heel and dropped my shorts. The worst scenario I could imagine would follow:

1. I had diarrhea...ooof not good.

2. I had been using the same zip lock for TP for a while and it had a hole in it. TP + water = giant mess in a bag. Over half the sheets I brought (more than enough for 2 stops) were ruined and the rest of them were not going to clean a whole bunch.

3. All that was around me were pine needles, bark, branches and this weird looking plant.

What to do? Then I remembered that my pacer Goldie had shown me on a training run just weeks earlier a plant that was good for this scenario. Damn It! Why did I not pay more attention, did it look like this one? What if this is some sort of man eating plant fueled by feces or a weird kind of poison ivy or oak that only grows in the alpine regions. DOH! I looked at my watch 5 minutes had gone by, time to make a decision. I decided the plant looked close enough so I used it then used salvageable parts of the TP I had brought. By the time I got back on the trail I'd lost some 20-30 places and almost 10 minutes. "Remember to get more TP from the crew in 23 miles" I thought to myself.

Back on the road and after a mile I realized the TP did more harm than good. However, there was nothing I could do about it, I'd address the issue at mile 30, the first time I knew there would be a real bathroom and my crew to give me the supplies I needed. Until then I would try to alleviate the problem by adding bag balm or whatever lube I could find as often as possible to keep the friction down. This is not an issue I told myself.

Lyon Ridge (10.5 miles) at 7:41am 

Lyon Ridge sits right here.

I got to Lyon ridge a mere 4 minutes ahead of schedule. Perfect! I'm 10 miles in and I avoided the mad dash that usually happens to me. I noticed ahead of me another brightly colored figure whose tattoos and vibrant personality are well known in the Ultra world. I always see her with pink on and today was no different; her hair was neon pink as well. I knew her previous times on this course so I decided I would stay just behind her and let her pace me...though she would not know it.

I made my way out of Lyon ridge and started in up the hill. It was now blowing hard and raining harder. I started thinking about my crew, they had no idea about the weather. I felt bad they would be standing around all day in the rain freezing because I told them it was going to be hot. Hopefully they brought clothes to be comfortable in.

Red Star Ridge (16 miles) 9:05 AM

Red Star Ridge-home of the best weenies....ever!

I followed the ultra vet for about 6 miles to the next aid station Red Star Ridge, I had gained 6 minutes from the last 5.5 miles and was now 10 minutes up on my pace chart. I entered the aid station and the excitement from all the workers was a real treat. I walked over to the table with food on it and decided on a PB&J 1/2 sandwich. I shoved it in my mouth and started to walk away when I saw the most delectable looking little weenies. I had one, oh the salty goodness. These must have come from heaven. At that moment I took my toothpick and stabbed 4 or 5 of those suckers and put them all in my mouth....oh holy heck they were hot. I started fanning my mouth and looked for some liquid to put in it. I grabbed the nearest cup and tossed it in....mmmmmm nothing like crock pot weenies and Gatorade! I bid the workers a farewell and thanked them for their awesomeness.

Back on the trail I hooked up with a guy from somewhere in California. He had run the race a couple of times and was commenting my pacing. He said I looked great and really had things dialed in. We talked for a bit about races, training and running in general. I decided I would follow him to the next aid station since I had passed the neon pink gal in the last aid station. I would later find out she had to drop from the race a couple miles after that. By this point a couple of other runners had joined us to create a train of 6. We would run together all the way to the next aid stop 7.8 miles away.

Duncan Canyon (23.8 miles) 10:56 AM

A mad house on race day, Duncan Canyon has some great views.

Duncan Canyon is a cool place you have to go down this short little hill and it pops you out into the middle of absolute madness, or so it seems from the first time runner perspective. I made my way into the aid station when all of the sudden I hear this voice from behind say "what's under the hat". I took my hat of and did a little spin in the middle of the aid station, by now enough people asked about the hair that I just kept saying it's a cougar with some cheetah spots thrown in for speed. I walked over to the aid stop and asked for some non caffeinated gels, they had none. This was another mistake I made. I had assumed, again wrongly, that they would have an assortment of Gu brand gels at each aid stop. I was surprised to learn they did not, most of these early stops only had one flavor and they were all caffeinated. I was trying to stay off caffeine for the first 62 miles. This was tough for me, any one who has spent some time with me knows I'm addicted to soda and the caffeine in it. Trying to hold off on caffeine for me is like asking a crack addict to stop talking to his dealer. Fortunately I carried enough gels with me to hold me over till Robinson Flat, the next aid stop where I would see my crew. However, the temptation was there, I took 2 caffeinated gels from the table just in case I needed a fix! I spent 6 minutes fueling at D.C. and then got out of there with 6 quarters of PB&J sandwiches.

Leaving Duncan Canyon is difficult. You are literally directed right back the way you just came from. You have to head north for a mile or two before you can continue moving west. I was worried about this section, 2 weeks prior I ran from Squaw to Robinson Flat and this section killed me. I had not been eating and the last 6 miles of the run knocked me out. I was worried the same would happen today. I held back from my normal balls to the wall downhill ways and followed the 6 person train down to the creek that we must pass through. 

I was puzzled by what I saw at the creek, we had been running now for almost 7 hours and no part of the body was dry. Yet, here I am watching 10-12 people tip toe on the rocks sticking out of the stream so they do not get their feet wet. I announced "coming through!" as I ran into the shin deep creek and passed each and every one of them. I knew I had dry shoes and socks in 3 miles and more water was not hurting anything at this point. 

I'm now about to embark on the first of 4 canyon climbs. This canyon is tricky, it just gets steeper as you go. I knew when we hit the switchbacks 1.5 miles from the aid station that things would fall apart for me. They always do on hills. I'm slow, especially when the incline is mild. I have not yet developed a running gear up hills and my hiking leaves a lot to be desired. On this day though, my legs felt great. I began slowly pulling away from the train of 12 I had passed and was now on my own. I would not run with another person for the next 10 hours. I'd see people, but I was passing them. With good legs beneath me, I started hiking hard up the hill. I caught a couple of people and I was realizing that either they were blowing up or I was in better climbing shape than I thought.

1/2 mile.....close but no cigar!

I made my way up the switchbacks and through a meadow to the sign that says Robinson Flat .5 miles. This sign is full of it! Its .8 miles, you may not think that .3 miles is much, after 29.7 miles that is one hell of an error! Fortunately I knew about this already so I adjusted my expectations of when I would see my crew.

Robinson Flat (30 Miles) 12:37 PM 

I entered the corral they had set up for runners to direct them into the weigh station 25 minutes ahead of schedule. In races like this they weigh you to make sure you are keeping up on the fluids. Weighing more or less than 7% of your body weight gets you time in a chair, and you have no choice but to wait until they feel you are ready to leave. I have worried about this to no end. Last year in my only other 100 mile race I started at 194 and would weigh at different times 188 all the way to 212. At that race they are much more lenient than this one with the numbers.

I started to figure out if I would be heavy or light 174 and 202 was the range I had to work with. Should I strip down or add some rocks to the pockets? My blow up at Zion a month earlier and a promise I made to my fiance made me decide to be honest with the scale, so I did nothing. I saw my crew member to the right of the line of runners walking into the aid station. Oh she was a sight for sore eyes, and she had a poncho and tu-tu on! Yes, I thought, they are all going to be fine I do not have to worry about them. I walked up to the scale handed my pack and jacket off and stood still. 203 the guy shouted, what's your start weight?

Damn that is over 7% do I tell him the truth?

Pre-Race to Last Place!

Pre Race 2:30am Saturday June 23

The dreaded buzz from my phone alarm awoke me from a dream about Burning Man. I quickly sat up out of bed and as the fog of sleep started to clear from my brain, I was now realizing why it was pitch dark out.  I would be running for the entire day, night and next morning. I’d be trying to run nearly half way across the state of California, over the Sierra mountain range just 2.5 hours from now. I needed to eat, drink, and prepare my weapons to attack the trail for the day. I also still had to make the short journey from my parent’s house to Squaw Valley. 381 other runners like me, would start the Western States 100 mile Endurance run at the base of the ski resort. Each of us hopeful to end our run in Auburn, California before 11:00 am Sunday morning. 301 runners would eventually reach Auburn in less than 30 hours after the gun went off.

My trail weapons

I made my way up the three flights of stairs to the garage where I had stashed my 2 bagels and creme cheese as well as a liter of orange juice. This would be the last meal I would have where I was not hurried. My dog Zeke had eaten the other 4 bagels the day before and there were some nice teeth marks on the two he left behind. I guess he wanted to carb load with me. I leaned against the refrigerator and thought about the adventure I would have today. I wondered if I had what it would take mentally and physically to run the 100.2 miles (18,000 feet of climbing and 23,000 feet of descending). I wondered if my foot would hold up to the abuse I was about to put on it. I wondered what my body would do after I hit the 43 mile mark. I'd not completed any runs this year farther than 42 miles. I had run 100 miles before in 2011, but that was on the smooth buffed out Tahoe Rim Trail. That run resulted in a massive 9 straight hours of walking between 2am and 11am. That 9 hours is the only regret I have from the race, these are running races I need to be able to run them. I knew if the same resulted today, I would be pulled from the course in the middle of the night. I would not make the segmented cutoffs that are there to ensure runners finish in a timely manner.

Today I was attempting a run on much more difficult, technical terrain. To make matters worse, as I peeked outside I muttered an explicative. It was damp, rainy, cloudy, windy and cold. This race is known for the heat, which I am not well suited for. For the last month I had spent nearly every run at the hottest part of the day in a long sleeve shirt. I spent every day of the commute to work (over an hour each way) in a long sleeve shirt and a towel covering my legs with my cars heater blasting me on high. I was attempting to train my body to be acclimated to the heat I would face on this day. This new set of circumstances was actually a blessing in disguise; I'm all good in the cold. However, I had not done a whole lot of running in the rain and wind since I was injured for most of the winter.

I had decided the week previous that I would make a concerted effort to find the good in the circumstances I was given on this journey rather than dwell on why it was not the perfect scenario. The good in this, I figured, was the lack of heat and the fact I am quite comfortable running in the cold. My days spent in a downhill suit (basically a Lycra suit with a tad bit of padding) skiing prepared me for any amount of cold, damp and uncomfortable this day would bring. I'll take freezing over hot any day. I quickly made my way to my packed bags and started rummaging for the zip lock bag that carried a long sleeve technical (wicking) shirt, my Salomon wind breaker and a pair of summer gloves. I would find out later, this would be the second coldest day in the history of the race.

Taking those items weighed on me a bit, literally but also figuratively. True, they are not heavy, but I had just spent the previous 24 hours taking every unnecessary item out of my race day item list. Generally I take everything except the kitchen sink on a run. I usually have a knife, cell phone, wallet, keys, assortment of sugars like gels, candy, and gummy bears, some solid food at least 75-100oz of water, toilet paper, extra buff and beanie etc…. I had finally decided, begrudgingly at the request of my pacer, actually I should say my savior, to only bring my light pack with 6 gels, 24 gummy worms (600 calories worth) and 75oz of water and toilet paper. I also feared I needed to shed every ounce of weight to make the 30 hour time limit. I made my peace with this decision and of course the minute I get accustomed to it, I’m thrown a curve ball with this rain. Now I’d have to be packed for the cold. So much for going ultra light!

Around 3am the rest of the people in the house started arriving upstairs all of them dressed in the crew shirts that I had made. I talked to my dad for a couple of minutes before I realized it was time to head off and get to Squaw to pick up my bib. It felt like old times being with my dad before the race. He was always there front and center for all my adventures when I was young. There was a moment in talking with him that I think I could see how proud he was of me in his eyes, we do not talk about such things, but the look said everything I needed to hear. I could tell he was amped for me and as is typical with this side of my family both he and my step mom were leaving shortly after the start to go win a sniper shooting match. My family to say the least, is active. The list of sporting success would boggle the mind, I just hoped, today, I could live up to those standards. I had wanted to have my mom out for this as well but things did not work out as I had planned. That's another story all together! I had talked to my mom the day before and told her I just overnight-ed a shirt to her. She wore it the entire time I was on the course. If there is a next time for this race, I'm going to make sure she is healthy enough to be there.

My fiancé and I hopped into the vehicle we have dubbed the Yeti. This would be my crews transportation vehicle as they made their way to me, deep in the hills of California. As is customary with this vehicle, and the big events she transports us too, it was all decked out with paint letting everyone on the road know we were on an epic journey.

Yeti.....

I arrived at Squaw Valley at 3:50 am. I have been to this resort hundreds of times but never so early and never on a summer morning. Thoughts of my skiing days whirled through my head, there would be no chair lifts for me on this day. We parked and made our way to the lodge. This was so familiar, when I skied; we made the same trek to the same lodge. Heck I was even sitting at the same table I’d sat at half my life ago before ski races.

I’d been relatively even keel with my nerves up to this point. Once I checked in I got a little baggy with my bib and microchip that goes around my ankle, which is when my nerves and blood pressure went through the roof.

Bib on!

This was happening; I was on the precipice of finally starting the race. I had thought about this in secret for well over a decade, once I finally muttered out loud my intentions to run in it, my thoughts and actions have been dominated by it for the last 3 years. As I pinned that bib on my left leg I wondered if I would be the same person in 31 hours. I figured if successful I would finally feel proud of myself, but feared as has happened so many times in the past, that I might have placed too much emphasis on the final outcome. The old me would consider anything but a finish a colossal failure, I would not take into account the journey, the fact so few could even make it to the start, or even the circumstances that I had to face just to get here this year. I hoped that I would find maturity along the course where I could appreciate all the good that has come from this journey and not dwell on an unfortunate outcome, should that be the case.

Once I had my bib on I started to realize I may need to deal with a bathroom stop on the mountain. Even with careful planning I was starting to get the feeling that yesterdays food would not evacuate from my body before the start. I was prepared for this circumstance but I was not happy I’d have to deal with it. I had carefully planned every eating session for the last week, right down to the minute of the day I took in food. I should have needed to go by now, but instead I sat on the toilet twiddling my thumbs praying to the poop gods! They would answer me many times over; unfortunately those communications would come at mile 6, 38, 42, and 49.

I got up threw my shorts back on and hoped that this would be the only thing for the next 30 hours I was unsuccessful at. I made my way back to my parents and fiancé with 10 minutes to the start. A friend of mine had made the trip up from Reno to surprise me. He showed up just as we were going to head out, I was shocked to see him. He was the one who first heard the words: “I want to run the Western States 100” come out of my mouth back in 2009. It was just the jolt I needed before the journey began.

Nearly 400 nervous runners stood on the deck of the lodge watching a clock countdown. I could see at the head of the pack just under the start line so many famous runners; it hit me at that point. I was running the same course as them, and in the same race! What the hell was I doing here; I was no where near the runner they were. I looked back toward the end of the line and pretty much thought the same thing about those runners. I had my first mental battle before the gun even went off. I saw my training partners lined up and thought they looked like they belong. I still did not think I deserved to be here. That was the only conclusion I could come to just minutes before the start, why else would I consider all 380 other runners as studs and me just some pitiful fool who lucked into this situation. Heck I had to be given my entry. I only trained less than three months for this, my training partners had to stop and wait for me so many times on long runs. I’m not prepared for this! These were foolish thoughts and I immediately had to step back and tell myself I did in fact deserve to be here and I would perform accordingly. I would revisit this insecurity many times over the next day.

Waiting for the gun

I typically have issues with going out fast at the start of the races and dying in the latter parts. I was determined today that I would not let that happen. My plan was to start at the back. I wanted to make sure that by the time we got to the single-track trail, 3.5 miles in,  I was in the back of the pack. This would ensure that I could not go out fast, because it was near impossible to pass anyone for about 3 miles once on the back side of the ski resort. My overall plan was to take it easy for the first 62 miles, get with my pacer and see where we were at. Make a plan to get to the river crossing (78 miles) and hammer the last 22 miles as best we could. It was important to not have significant walk breaks, I needed to keep moving swiftly at all times.

5AM Saturday June 23 mile 0.0 Squaw Valley

I lined up, still with my clan of 4 supporters, nearly last. The clock hit 10 seconds to go and the runners, crew members and crowd began the countdown from 10. The clock hit zero and a shotgun went off. We now had 30 hours to make our way to Auburn Ca.

And GO!

I had noticed something on a run 2 weeks earlier with my mentor. He would kiss his hand and slap it against rocks as we ran. I never talked to him about it, but I figured the race is so important to him and so close to his heart that he must do it as a form of appreciation. I figured I needed all the help I could get. If I could get some good mojo by making out with the course I was just the guy to do that. Be good to the course and it will be good to you type of thing. I walked up to the starting line kneeled down, kissed my hand and slapped it at the ground, then I did the same as I jumped up to touch the starting timer which already read 30 seconds.

And they are off!

I started walking with the urgency of a snail. Within a minute I was ahead of maybe 3 people and behind the rest of the field. Along the road they call the Mountain Run, I would see many familiar faces. I stopped walking to take time to hug each and every one of them. I was intent on enjoying every part of this adventure. Within a quarter of a mile I had hugged my last friend. I made it one more switchback and I took another 10-15 seconds to look at the valley beneath me, I could see a steady stream of red on the road from all the crews leaving the resort. What I did not see, shocked me a bit….RUNNERS!

I turned back around looked a couple hundred feet up the hill and thought, great, I’m less than .5% through the race and I’m already in last place. I had to once again remind myself (as was the case the entire day) that placing was not important, clock time was. I had roughly 45 minutes to get to the top of Squaw or I’d be off pace and that is all that mattered. If I held true to my pace chart I would finish the race in 29.5 hours.

My Pace sheet, just need to stay ahead of "Goal Time".

2 days to go!

Training in 2012

Heading into 2012 I decided I needed to really commit to running in the hills. My plan was to run 3 days a week in the hills and bump it up to 4 days as the race got closer. January started out great. I felt I had a solid base of miles built up from the end of 2011 and I was now going to be running with sub 21 hour guys (at the race they intend to run under 21 hours) on a weekly basis. I knew I would be pushed to the farthest my limits would allow.

I had some heel pain at the end of 2011 but nothing that curtailed my running just some annoyances. It turned out that it was a case of plantar fasciitis building up. I went to a training run for the Way2Cool race to get some course experience. I made it about 8 miles into the training run and my left heel was really starting to hurt. I adapted like we all do and started running more near my forefoot. The Cool race is run on many of the same trails as the last 20 miles of the Western States course. Somewhere around mile 15 I noticed my left foot was going numb and my toe was starting to hurt. I made it another 3 miles or so before I started to limp quite heavily. By the time I got to the end of the run, I had sneaky suspicion that my running off my forefoot, for only 10 miles or so, might have hurt my foot again.

I stuck around for everyone to finish but my foot was starting to hurt pretty bad and I was having trouble keeping up a good attitude. Deep down, it felt a lot like the last 2 times I broke it. I drove home, iced it and hoped for the best.

I woke up the next morning to what I already knew I would see; a massively swollen foot and a need for crutches. However this time my entire foot hurt from heel to toe. I immediately contacted the guy I had been using as my mentor for a specialist. I went and saw her and we deduced that I was very lucky. I did not break the toe but I jammed it really bad. Basically like a football players turf toe, I had cuboid syndrome (ankle issues) and plantar fasciitis. In other words, 2 months no running. I did not run another step until the Way2Cool race. I started that race and ran the first 8 miles and called it a day. My toe felt fine, my ankle (cuboid portion) felt alright, but my heel was still a mess. I spent the rest of the day walking around and jogging some people in. Nothing taxing just feeling out the foot, I wanted to see how bad it would get. It was now March and I had to start running if I was going to make it to the start line at States in 2012.

The next day my PT devised a plan for me to run but intensely work on my heel. The problem stemmed from tightness in my calf. I went out and bought this calf stretcher which I think has been absolutely key in my recovery. I carried this thing around with me everywhere I went and stretched each calf 1 minute at a time up to maybe 10-15 times a day for months. I wear a boot to bed every night to keep my foot in a right angle to my shin so my calf stays stretched. I have an intimate relationship with many golf balls on the arch of my foot and at work I pick marbles up with my toes while I sit at my desk.

April 1^st I started to up the miles and got into the 30mpw range. Last year at that time I had done double that on a fairly easy week. My foot was getting better but it was still hurting a little. I did not have any ability to run up a hill without allowing the left heel to hit the ground. I kept working at it and kept the miles down. Mid April, I had a huge breakthrough. I ran a hill near my house and my left heel never once hit the ground, and, I had no pain. This was fantastic! At that point the only pain I felt was after the run and as long as I spent a lot of time stretching the thing out I could nurse it back to the point it was at just before the run.

I decided at that point I was ready to join the pack back in the hills. I made a pact that I would walk as often as needed and not worry about over all speed. I would press the downhills to work the quads but running uphill would need to come naturally, otherwise I’d walk….all of them.

My first run with the group was a tough one. We would run backwards the toughest two canyons of the Western States course then turn right back around and run them the correct way back to the car, roughly 28-30ish miles. I walked every step of the up’s and ran every downhill like a bear was after me.

I blew up on the last climb in the only way I know how, epically! My mentor had to pretty much scrap his run to get me back to the top of Michigan Bluff. Body fluids were leaving my body at record pace, my muscles were revolting and I was acting like a complete spaz! Though I blew up, I did not have much pain in my foot and that was the first run over 26 miles since December.

By this point every race I intended on running had passed except for the Zion 50. By that point my training was going well, I entered the race positive that it would be a good day and for 10 miles it was. Then I got lost multiple times, ran out of water on a very hot exposed day, and missed a cutoff at the 35 mile mark after having run 42 from getting lost. It was a rough day.

That was the last race I competed in. Not the confidence builder you want, before a 100 mile race. However, my training has been a ton of quality this year. I actually can run some tough hills now. I’m much faster hiking hills and my quads are as bulletproof as they ever were in when I was young. The fast guys only have to wait for me for a little bit these days, and I keep up with them on all the downhill’s, and usually I pass them just to let em know I’m still nipping at their heels. The first time I pass them on the uphill’s….you can bet they are going to hear about it!

I’ve now run almost 160 miles on the Western States course and seen every nook and cranny. I am confident up to 40 miles in any given run and on technical terrain I am far and away in the best running shape I’ve ever been. I also know after 40 miles, I do not know anything. In the 8 weeks leading up to my taper, I had runs of 32, 34, 34, 40, 38, 42, 41 miles each weekend. I backed them all up with at least 8 miles the next day depending on how my feet felt. I had a solid 10.5 hour (first 30 of WS course) run 2 weeks ago

In the 4 months I’ve been back running, I took 1 cutback week. I ran 139 (March), 179(April), 272 (May) miles and I’m at about 110 this month so far. My foot feels strong, my body feels pretty good. I ran nearly 1200 miles at this point last year and I’m at 800 now.

I have no idea how Saturday is going to turn out. What I do know is I’ve put in the time to give myself a good shot at running well. My focus has turned from an arbitrary time to wanting to enjoy this experience. I’m not going to win, heck I’m not going to even come close to the pace I am capable running so I’m going to have my self a great time. I intend to have a smile on no matter how bad the suffering gets or when it starts. I would not give up this journey for anything. It’s taught me lessons that I’ll carry with me the rest of my life. I’ve helped inspire people to run and do things they never thought they could. I deserve to be here this weekend, and I’m going to make damn sure I come away from this race better than when I started it. I’ve got some fun things planned while I’m out there and if nothing else, people are going to see a side of me that does not usually come out except maybe at Burning Man.

I’m confident in my abilities. To steal a line from my mentor:

“I took no shortcuts, I have no excuses” nor do I have any regrets. My body will carry me as far as I am smart to let it. That means, toss the competitive part of me out the window and pick it up at Green Gate 20 miles from the finish. Run your heart out from Hwy49 those last 7 miles into the track, and run past all those things I’ve been holding onto all these years. Saturday is going to be a momentous occasion for nearly 400 runners and their crew. The 1500 volunteers will see a passion for running that is rarely found at a road race and I intend to thank as many of them as I can for being there allowing me to complete this dream I had so long ago.

I have so many people to than it would take forever to mention them by name so I’ll just group them together. To my family and friends thank you so much for all your support. The guy who hates to get help from anyone sure does appreciate all the help he’s gotten from you all. However, I have to single out my gal, without her none of this would have happened. She truly is my rock. I’m now off to Squaw for a little jaunt in the woods. Auburn Bound BABY!

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.

6 days to go

Jan-Nov 2011

I now had almost 3 months of solid pain free running under my belt. I had a coach to get me through the training, and a local running group to lean on when running times were tough. I formulated my racing schedule with the help of my coach and January 1^st I set it all into action.

The schedule was simple on paper.

Hilo HawaiiMarathon in March

American River 50 mile in April

Rock N River Marathon (Reno) in May

Silver State 50 mile in May

Tahoe Rim Trail 100 in July

Simple to write but considering, as of that date, the farthest I had ever run was 32 miles and that was nearly a year earlier in March of 2010. This was going to be a big task. My first trail race (13 miles) was just a year and a half earlier.

I also had the weight issue, though I was not as concerned with that. I’m not much of a foodie, if given the option, I would take a pill for all of my nutrition needs. There are very few things I crave food wise. Although as I would learn, with the uptick in miles per week, I would start to enjoy food a bit more. I put myself on a somewhat strict diet of about 2200 calories a day. I figured, that, coupled with attempting to run 7 days a week I should be down around 200lbs by the time I hit my 100 mile race. I was starting at 221 and was shooting for about 3-4 pounds a month or 1 pound a week. Again, sometimes naivety is a blissful thing. Lets put it this way, 2200 calories and 50-70 miles a week running just does not jive. I lost weight in a hurry and with it, my long runs started to suffer greatly. By the time March hit, I was already down to 190 and eventually I would hit 182 before I had to go get even more help.

I went to visit Joe Dibble at Sierra Strength and Endurance. My training was going great but I could not run for more than 3 hours before I just died. Any run no matter the intensity just turned into a walk fest. He quickly diagnosed that I was just not eating enough. He put me on a 3300 calorie a day diet during the week and 4500-5500 a day diet on the weekends. Just a week before the Hilo Marathon I completely changed how I eat. It was a huge epiphany, and I actually started to look forward to food. I ended up leveling out about 195lbs which is where he thought I should be given the still substantial (for a runner) bit of muscle I had. To put it into context, as an 18 year old senior in high school I was 5’9” 202 pounds, and now at that point I was 33 and 195, kinda crazy.

The Hilo Marathon resulted in a PR time of 3:58. I ran an extra 6 miles (3 before and 3 after) because I was scheduled for 32 that day. I was heading into the meat of my season with no foot pain, no weight issues, things were going swell.

I had made a switch in shoe companies which I credit for the lack of foot pain. I switched from the traditional shoe types to oversized cushy clown shoes. Hoka One One, shoes are amazing and I can not imagine ever running in anything else. They will get an in depth review on this blog someday, but they are like taking a bit of heaven and wrapping it around your foot.

I arrived back on the mainland with tons of excitement. I was now almost 6 months into running with no setbacks or injuries. I was starting to think I was ready for my first 50 mile race. I got the schedule for the week prior to the race from my coach and once again he shocked me. No time off? What, I’m going to run my first 50 mile race and you want me doing a hard tempo run 3 days before…..this dude was NUTS. What about tapering? Do I not need to be rested for this huge output of effort?

The explanation I was given, taught me that everything I thought I knew about training from my other sports, was wrong in regard to this one. He asked me what my goal race was…obviously the 100 miles. He then told me why would you want to peak now in April for a race in July? I would not, but why race when I am so tired?

His reply is so obvious now but was so foreign then. “How do you think you are going to feel that second 50 of the 100?” Probably pretty tired, I said. Bingo! Lights went on, of course! I needed to feel what it would be like to go 50 miles on tired exhausted legs. No wonder this guy was such a badass, he was an animal.

I ran what is still to this date, the best race of my life at American River. I was in control all day, I moved steadily up the field and when I got to the point where coach told me to let it all lose I passed a gazillion people. I finished in 10 hours and 25ish minutes and ran from Sacramento to Auburn.

Only some 4 hours an change after coach finished, so close!

The best part about the day was getting to see a couple of friends from Reno Running and Fitness finish their first 50 mile race as well. We all triumphed that day. The running joke (excuse the pun) of the day was them telling me “congrats Brandon you ran just fast enough to run 100 more miles in July”.

A little tidbit I have so far left out, though I was signed up for the race in July of 100 miles I still had not qualified.  Not only did I qualify for the upcoming race, but, I was officially qualified to enter the lottery for Western States in 2011! I had to run this race under 11 hours to do that, and I beat it by nearly 40 minutes.

I ran the Reno Marathon (Rock n River) as a training run. I ran about 38 miles that day and ran as many people from Reno Running and Fitness into the finish as I could. I felt awesome and I was ready. However Silver State would turn out to be the toughest race of the year.

I started the Silver State 50 only minutes from my house, I knew this course like the back of my hand. The race is on Peavine Mountain. Silver State is considered a mountain 50, American River was not. I did not realize the true impact of all the extra climbing.

Lots O climbin!

Boy did I not know what I was getting into. Unlike American River I went out faster than I should have, blew up at mile 33 and basically had to walk it on in from there. It was a tough pill to swallow; maybe I was not ready to run 100 miles in the mountains after all.

A couple of great things happened at the race though, when I finished I saw the president of the Western States board. This was the same guy I saw give a lecture at the motivational clinic I went to. It turns out he was part of the Silver State Striders the same group who mans the Foresthill aid station at Western States. The Striders put on the 50 mile race I just got my ass kicked by. I quickly befriended him on Facebook. Now I also had an “in” with an influential and clearly experienced board member of Western States. Times were getting good.

I also got a pacer for my run in Tahoe a month or two later. My friend agreed to pace me. He had just run his first 50 mile race at Silver State and finished top 5. He is still to this day, not only one of the most kind and generous individuals I have ever been fortunate enough to meet, but he is also one beast of a runner…..all 12 pounds of him!

My running was doing great and I was just days from running my first 100 mile race. I intend to do a report on that as well. Lets just say the day had it’s challenges and from mile 67 to 93 I pretty much had to walk the entire time. I finished 44^th out of 110 people in a time of 31 hours and 50 minutes.

Photo Courtesy of Scott Cozad one of my exceptional crew members.

Not once did I sleep, and I only sat down for about an hour or so. I finished a run in the mountains….I ran 100 miles and now I was ready to put my name into the lottery for Western States. 

Getting my first buckle from George and Dave! I can barely stand upright.

I had roughly 5 months to recover, then I’d need to be ready to hit the ground running!

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. 

10 days and counting....

Foresthill Aid Station-2010 Western States Endurance Run

I emailed the Aid Station director and asked if I could volunteer. I ended up dragging my gal with me because I was too scared to go by myself. I told her we would be done by 6pm and home by 9 (any one who's worked that aid station knows that statement is laughable).Many people do not believe me when I tell them, but I am exceptionally shy. Until I am comfortable with you, I pretty much just stay quiet. It’s only after I get comfortable with you that my personality really comes out. It is at that point, I would imagine, some wish I'd go back to being that quiet guy! I become quite blunt and regularly say whatever I am thinking. Having her there helped me to be a bit more in my element around so many new people.

We showed up early to help. I got out of the car in my walking boot and started doing what I normally do. Carrying the heaviest things so others did not have to. Basically trying to show that I was willing to do what ever was needed for the day to go off without a hitch. I’m kinda a big lug when it comes to physical activity; I like to take on the biggest challenges to prove my worth. You tell me to do something and I may struggle with it but eventually I'll get it done.

The day started off great. I met the head medic and we discussed my issues. He told me that women back in the 1800’s would get toes similar to the type of toes that I had. The shoes they wore back then tended to end in a V point, only their toes curved inward. I think he called it a club foot. He told me I was on the right track with the heel striking and that the unnatural bending of the toe was in fact, the reason it kept breaking. Don’t bend the toe, no broken foot….Got It!

The Foresthill aid station is 62 miles into the race. I'd never seen anyone at that point in a race so I was excited to see the kind of carnage there would be. It's a tough haul those first 62 miles of the course. Competitors climb 3.5 miles up to the top of Squaw Valley and run down the backside. When I ski raced I made fun of people who climbed mountains, I took a chair lift to the top.

Once at the top, you get about three miles of streams and mild rocks before the trail starts to get a bit more serious. Once you hit Lyon Ridge (10ish miles) you get a net downhill to mile 24 but the reality is it's up, down, down, up, up, down, up, down, down, up, down, down, down. That is the best I can describe it, relentless. The trail begs you to run fast, which is a mistake. This mistake will result in tired legs and hips and perhaps even abs. Then you hit Duncan Canyon which is never talked about, but very difficult in its own right. Duncan is the first of 4 canyons on the course It's a three mile descent on some moderately technical terrain then you climb 3 miles to get out of the canyon but it feels like 4 or 5. Unlike all the other canyons on the course, it starts out easy and just gradually increases. It fools you into a false confidence. You hit a sream and the trail just calls to you.....run me hard baby.  You feel great, the incline is not that steep and you start to push it......just like that nasty trail wants you to do. The trail now knows it will break you in less than a mile You get to the next stream and the trail, like pushing the button on the treadmill, increases the incline just a bit. Then you hit a series of switchbacks that take all your mojo away. Runners are at mile 29, the course lets up a little bit as you enter Robinson Flat. Once you finally hit the top, you are at the aid station. Now the course is actually going to get tough. The next 32 miles are the most difficult of the entire race.

Runners set off from Robinson, pushing hard to make up time. They have a lot of downhill to cover. The problem is, you have a climb into Devils thumb and then again a climb into Michigan Bluff. It's the hottest part of the day and on a large portion of the climbs you are baking in the sunlight. Each of these make you climb 1800 and 2500 feet respectively. Devils thumb starts out steep and stays that way. It's just under two miles of ridiculous climbing. Once at the top of that climb you have 5 miles of fast and fairly steep running down to Eldorado Creek. That creek signifies the start of the climb to Michigan Bluff. This is just short of 3 miles and though not as steep, it mentally beats you down.You get to Michigan bluff exausted and now you have to go though what can be the hottest canyon of all, Volcano Canyon. The canyon is not that difficult, but the distance you have covered makes it tough. Once up Volcano canyon you hit the Bath Road aid staion which is a connecting point for crews and their runners.  Crews can send an individual to this point so they can run back a mile or so with the entrant to Foresthill. This gives the crew member valuable information about how the runner is doing.

By looking at the elevation profile you would think they just fly downhill for 62 miles. However, as I described, thats some BS. The trail is relentless in the high country, it's never flat. If you have not trained specifically for this terrain you are going to be beat to a pulp before the real racing starts. Odd thing is, the elite guys and gals look like they are out for a stroll. To my surprise after 62 miles the two men's leaders were only seconds from each other.

This was such an inspiring sight to see. What none of us knew, was that this race was shaping up to be one of the most thrilling in the events history. Neither of the guys in the video had ever been beaten at this distance. The guy in third (not shown and also unbeaten in 100's) was about 15 minutes back and ended up winning the race in the fastest ever time. It came down to the last 8 miles and the guy who saved the most gas in the tank won. This, I would imagine, is a great tactic for me to learn. I've been told, the race does not start until Foresthill. There is 16 miles of mostly downhill then the last 20 miles of the course are the most flat and runnable. I've been told if you can run at that point you will pass a lot of people and if you can not, there is a huge train of people who will eat you up.

A great film was made about the race that year. If you have any interest what so ever in this race, it's a must see.

J.B. did a fantastic job at capturing the 4 competitors and their backgrounds in the sport and their personal lives. You can purchase the film at his site.

Perhaps the most motivating aspect of this day was watching the people come in who were not elite. These are the weekend warriors like myself. After 62 miles you are stripped to the core and all that remains is what you really are. There is no time or energy to put up a facade. You are no longer male or female, or part of any religion. You are no longer associated with your country of origin, you are not fat or skinny, in shape, injured, or hurting. You are simply a runner, doing everything in your power to take that next step forward. You could care less that you have boogers dried up on your face from shooting endless snot rockets through the day. The fact your face, arms and legs have been marinating in your own salty sweat for 15 hours is of no concern. You stink, you are dirty, and in almost all cases you feel absolutely awful. You might have blisters, some chaffing or maybe you are still overheating from the canyons, at this point the thought of another 38 miles much of it in the dark is not appealing.

At the time, I'd not run 100 miles so I did not understand the thought process these people were going through. It took a couple of hours of runners coming in and leaving until I realized the actual scope of what these people had already done, and how tough it would be for them to continue on. People would enter the aid station looking like death was on their shoulders. I would see someone come in and immediately say to myself, he's done. No chance that guy or girl leaves under their own power. Remarkably most people do get out of that chair, they do continue on, and many do still finish. Think about that, they run and walk another 38 miles feeling the most awful they have likely felt in their lives. That is when I realized this is not about finishing a race, it's not about winning, it's not about a buckle. It's about finding your limits and figuring out if you are tough enough to push past them. At some point in the race all you will have left is your desire to complete your goal, if that becomes less important than the pain you are feeling with each step, you will quit. This was the first time I became aware that this challenge was far more than running 100 miles in the mountains like I always thought. I think it was also this day that I realized just wanting to do this would not be enough. I would have to give in to my fears and dedicate a large portion of my life to accomplish this. Quite simply there is no way you can fake a hundred mile mountain race. You had better be trained, mentally and physically. You better have put in the time on your feet. I'd have to lay it on the line and risk failing miserably in order to succeed. This was scary, 30% to 45% of the runners will not complete the course. I would have to work that hard with those odds of finishing, that's not a bet I'd normally take. Was I even up to that type of challenge? I had to ask myself this over and over. Even today, 10 days out I'm asking myself that same question. The answer is always the same.....I just do not know. I think so, but I'm not overly confident about that answer.

The day had brought so far, some wonderful news about how to run on my foot and was filled with inspiration. I really thought it could not get any better but it did. Two local Reno running groups were at this aid station. Reno Running and Fitness had brought a group of people down to help out as well. I’d never heard of them, but I got to know one of their members. He was in their 10k program but he was so enthusiastic about wanting to run farther. We talked a lot about running and life and he mentioned I should try to hook up with them for a run or two and see how I liked it. I dismissed this because they were, by their own definition, a social running group. I run alone…..always. I’m not terribly social in big groups; I’m shy and well, insert every other excuse you can think of. Fortunately, he sorta got the ball rolling by letting the club’s founders know he met a guy who is in marketing that might be able to help them out. So they actually contacted me about a week after the race. This would turn out to be one of the best things that could have happened to me in running. I would eventually become, and still am proud to be, a part of Reno Running and Fitness. A social running group + me….go figure.

The other gem of the day came from the Silver StateStriders, the club who ran the aid station. Every year they bring a huge team down from Reno and pull off excellently, the largest aid station you have ever seen. It's freaking crazy the amount of stuff they have to set up. Just the food alone takes up multiple tents and carports. I worked my ass off that day, I worked from 11am to 1:30am the next day. I made my girlfriend go to sleep in the car so I could stay to work (she is amazing and has yet to give me payback on that one). One way or another I was determined to prove my worth with this running club who runs the aid station. I knew, eventually, catching on with them would help me in my journey to run the race. The aid station captain, who ironically was the dad of one of my friends I once ski raced with, asked me to come back next year. This was great, I have an "in" with the race!