Chicago Lakefront 50 Mile 2012

This is the fouth time I have run the Chicago Lakefront 50 Mile race.  It is the first ever ultra I ran back in 2006, a race I won in 2010, and as the only ultra in Chicago I feel like it is our home race to defend.  Because of these factors, unlike most ultras, I tend to treat this race as a race to try to compete and win, rather than a personal challenge to overcome the distance. 

The race is four 12.5 mile out and back segments along the lakefront, very flat and other than being a bit windy it was great weather, around 40 at the start and into the mid to upper 40's through the day. 

At the start, I took off quickly to see who would come with me and right away there were three of us that pulled away a bit from the group.  I was in lead for the first 6 miles, then was passed by someone I didn't recognize, and he quickly pulled away.  I was happy with the speed of the first lap of 1hr and 27 minutes.

I started the second lap in second place with first place pulling out of sight.  I was not too worried however, because I had a feeling he was out running himself, and we had a long way to go.  This turned out to be true, after the turnaround at mile 18.75 he was nowhere to be seen.  I am not sure if he dropped or just stopped for a while but it was the last time I noticed him, so I was back in first place 1/3 of the way through the race, thinking maybe I could go the rest of the way uncontested.  No such luck, after only a couple of miles in the lead, I was passed by Alex Leon.  Alex looked very comfortable and very fit and I thought "uh oh".  I ended the 2nd lap at the 3 hour mark, happy with the time, but a quarter mile behind Alex.

During the third lap the pain started to settle in.  In was really great to have the physical and psychological support of Bridget and the dozens of New Leaf Ultra Runners who were volunteering at the main aid station.  Despite all the encouragement, I was slowing down and Alex disappeared into the distance.  I finished the third lap with a dissapointing time around 4 hours and 47 minutes, about a minute a mile slower than my previous laps.

Starting the 4th lap, I resigned myself to second place.  I was well behind first, well ahead of third, and frankly I was exhausted and in a huge amount of pain.  My goal was to do my best to maintain my pace, and I was going to be happy with the results.

Suddenly, with 7 miles to go I saw Alex a quarter mile in the distance.  Out loud I groaned and said: "Oh Shit", because I knew that I had chance to catch him, but it was going to be hard as hell.  Then I said my mantra to myself: "You didn't sign up for this thing because it was going to be easy.", and vowed to give it my all.

With 5 miles to go I had closed the distance and decided that I needed to pass him with authority and get as much distance as possible to make him think I had plenty left in the tank, with the hope that he would give up the chase, because I didn't have anything left in the tank at all.  I passed running under a 7 minute mile pace.

As soon as I passed Alex I saw Bridget and Sabine, who had been coming my way from the New Leaf aid station.  I am glad that they did because I desperately needed fuel and I couldnt slow down for the aid stations or I would never get back to speed again.  Because of her help I was able to get a few gulps without slowing down.

With four miles to go I had opened up a decent lead but the wheels were starting to come off.  My legs were on fire, which was expected, but the real problem was cramping and the loss of what I will call "mental control".  I would get light headed and kinda lose where I was for a minute, then snap back to reality.  Inside my head I was screaming at myself to "wake up!" and "focus!" and "hold it damnit!".  At the same time I was cramping, it started in my calves, then my hamstrings, but also my stomach and abs, shoulders, neck, tongue, face and even eventually my forehead.  I didn't even know that was possible, a cramp in my forehead. 

My head and body kept tilting to one side as I got light headed then I would force myself back straight, desperately trying to keep a reasonable stride so Alex would not be aware of my travails.  The cramping tounge made it difficult to swallow, and combined with the minor head cold I had, made for a slobbery mess.  It couldn't have been pretty.

After what seemed like a lifetime I was finally able to start smelling the finish line about a mile away.  For the first time I chanced a look behind me to see how far back Alex was.  I didn't see him and the thought: "I've got it", ran through my head.  At the thought of "I've got it" a surge of adrenaline rushed through my body.  Usually, a surge of adrenaline at the end of a race is a good thing, helping propel me to the finish line.  However, my heart rate was already racing and I was already lightheaded, so as soon as I thought "I've got it", I veered off the path and nearly fell over.

I took several stumbling steps forward, completely out of my head, trying to force myself straight and to relax and get my heart rate under control without completely stopping.  After a few seconds, I was running again, although much slower.

With a quarter mile to go I could hear Bridget and other people screaming at the finish line.  The race ends with a very short up hill and at the bottom I nearly came to a complete halt because I took one walking step and almost fell over.  I ran up the hill hunched over, leaning to the side.  With 5 yards to go I collapsed to the ground as people screamed "NO!!" and continued across the finish half crawling, half rolling on the ground in 6 hours and 33 minutes.

After getting across the finish I dragged myself to the side and started a terrible cramping fit which much have looked bad based on the looks on the faces of race management.  A minute later, Alex finished.

Now that was a race!

Keys 100

Bridget and I ran the Florida Keys 100 May 19th and 20th running from Key Largo to Key West.  It was epic! 

This blog post is going to be a bit different than my previous race reports.  First off, there are a lot more pictures.  Bridget and I both took pics along the way.  WARNING: The pictures get more gruesome as they go on. 

Also, I am going to pass the writing off to newly minted 100 mile badass Bridget Nord!  My race was interesting, it involved bloodshed, delerium and a sub 24 hour finish.  However, I think Bridget's day was more entertaining and epic.  I will have you hear it in her words.  Take it away Bridget!:::::

New Year's One Day

Instead of partying till dawn New Year's Eve to New Year's Day and then jumping into the frozen Chicago Lake Michigan like we did last year, this year, Bridget and I decided to travel to San Francisco and run from 9:00am NYE to 9:00am New Year's Day in Coastal Trail Run's New Year's One Day.

To take advantage of being back in the bay area, we arrived a couple days early and were fortunate to get reservations at my favorite restuarant, Chez Panisse two days before the race and then we spent the whole day before the race in Napa doing the Wine Train and visiting the Grgich Winery. Several glasses of wine the day before a 24hr race is good for carb loading right?

I have run this course before although not on New Year's. The first time was in 2008, which I was fortunate enough to get my first ever win and do 130 miles. http://ultrashan.blogspot.com/2008/10/san-francisco-one-day.html The second time was in 2009, where I stopped at the 12 hour mark with around 78 miles and an achilles injury, probably brought on by going out too fast.

The training leading up to this one went very well. In October, my office moved to a building with a gym so in addition to my nightly runs I was able to start running the almost 4 miles to and from work plus workout at lunch time. This let me run more miles at a faster pace and more overall. I had several weeks in a row of 120-160 miles. My two main goals for the race were to do well competetively and best my previous distance of 130 miles if possible.

Race day was perfect weather: low 60's and sunny during the day, high 40's at night. It was great to see a lot of friends from the area running the race and cheering us on. 9:00am hits and off we go.

Right at the start two people jumped ahead of me, moving fast, really fast. The person in first seemed to be doing seven minute miles, which seemed sorta suicidal in a 24hr race. I didn't want to make the same mistake I had made on this course previously so I was determined to take it easy and just go at my own pace. Fortunately, my easy pace was still eight to eight and a half minute miles. The extra miles at faster pace seemed to have lowered my 'taken it easy' pace. I later heard that the person who jumped out at seven minute miles was using this race to qualify for Boston, then he kept running most of the rest of the race! Although he did slow down later, I couldn't imagine trying to keep running all day after completing a hard marathon.

The course is a 1.061 mile loop at Crissy Field, which is a beautiful area in San Francisco with views of the Golden Gate Bridge, the bay and the San Francisco skyline, over and over and over, etcetera. It's flat and ideal for getting in big miles, although it is a mental challenge with all the repetiveness of it. Fortunately, the runners and especially the volunteers were amazingly nice and helpful which definitely brightened the day during the hard spots.

I finished the first marathon in around 3 hours and 30 minutes, well ahead of my goal pace but feeling easy. Also, Bridget finished her first marathon in under 5 hours! Amazing, especially for someone who has not been doing long distance running for long and has not run an actual marathon, she just decided to be hardcore and go straight for ultras.

By midday, things were not feeling so easy anymore. Pain was setting in big time and I was doing 9-10 minute miles. Still ahead of goal pace but feeling like there was a long, long way to go. Timed events are difficult mentally compared to distance events because no matter how fast or slow, the finish line marches toward you at the same terrible pace and I was letting that fact get to me. I was also getting lapped, and by nightfall I was in 2nd place 3-4 miles behind and getting further. I was slowing down and felt like my goals were slipping away.

Then, just when I was thinking I was going to be slowing down more and more and more, something changed. First place, Chikara Omine, suddenly slowed to a crawl. Almost literally a crawl. He must have seized up terribly because he was moving like a slow motion zombie. It looked very painful. Chikara is an amazing runner, much more accomplished than myself, and while I felt his pain, seeing the chink in his armor gave me an energy boost and I was back running a good pace. Also, my friends Devon Crosby-Helms, Nathan Yanko, Brett Rivers and Larissa Polischuck all stopped by which was great to see. Brett and Larissa even ran a few laps with me, which was really helpful. Around the 14 hour mark, I took the lead.

As New Years approached, party boats started to fill up the bay. I found out that there was going to be fireworks at midnight, cool! The 6 and 12 hour races also started so that they would be ending at midnight, so there was quite a party atmosphere. Right at midnight, about 90 miles in, we stopped for a toast of champagne, which was the first time I have had champagne at an aid station, kinda nice.

After a quick 10 minute break at midnight, it was back to the work at hand, and by 100 miles in 17ish hours, it was once again a grind. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, begging for the sun to rise. The nice part was I was walking a little bit every now and then and I would get to walk with Bridget for a while, which was nice company. I was also now far ahead of 2nd place, over 10 miles. To keep myself motivated, I pretended like 2nd place was closing in so I could use the fear for energy.

Finally, the night ended. Around 7-8am I heard someone closing in on me, I had been pulling away from the whole field since before midnight so it was a bit of a surprise since I thought I was still moving at a good pace considering the distance. It was Bridget! She was still running after all this time. We ended up doing the last several laps together, ending the race with 126.3 miles for me and 80.6 miles for her. Bridget got 3rd place for the women and I was 1st place overall. Rock!

I felt pretty good at the finish, I usually roll around on the ground in pain and exhaustion after a 100+ mile race, but I was able to stand for the awards. Bridget was definitely feeling the pain though, she was nauseated and not able to stand up. Fortunately our friend Gasper Paluzi was kind enough to basically carry Bridget to his car and give us a ride to the hotel.

Off to the next adventure! I think Bridget caught the ultra bug, because in the airport on the way home she was talking about doing her first 100 miler! We have our eyes on http://www.keys100.com/. Stay tuned!

St Pat's 24 Hour

Wow, it's been 11 months since posting a blog. While I have not been writing, I have been running! I ran most of a 200k fat ass run, had a win at the Sunburn Six in the Stix 12hr, a DNF at Burning River 100 (damn achilles'!), and several other 5k and 10ks.

This year I decided to focus one race on a 24 hour event to see if I could break my PR of 130. I had planned to go back to San Francisco where I set my PR in the first place since its really flat and the weather is usually nice. However, logistics didn't work out so I tried to find a good race in the region. I found a great, really well run race, the St Pat's 24 Hour Race. So, this last weekend, Bridget and I woke up at 3:30am and made the two hour drive from Chicago to South Bend. Bridget was running the 12 hour, her first event over 6 hours!

I was feeling confident except out of the blue three days before the event, I started to have some achilles' tendon pain, my arch nemesis. It wasn't bad, but achilles problems ended my last 100 miler 60 miles in. However, I decided, screw it, just pretend there isn't a problem and just go.

The weather was perfect for running, it was a crisp fall day with colorful leaves on the trees and on the ground. The course was a three mile loop and each loop had only one significant downhill and uphill, although the rolling hills did seem to magically grow as the day and night wore on. I was feeling good so for the first ten laps I averaged just over 8 minute miles, putting me into the lead.

What I didn't see coming (literally) were all the roots! All the pretty fall leaves made excellent camouflage and I found myself hitting the ground over and over and over. I fell all the way to the ground seven times (a new PR) and clipped my toe and almost fell just as much. I heard other people fell, but not as often as I did. I must be a slow learner, I think I hit the exact same root on 3 separate occasions. Especially in really long races like a 24hr, I keep my feet close to the ground, which is great for efficient running, not so great for getting over roots. Later in the race when I slowed down I finally stopped falling as much, but by then a lot of damage had been done. Most of the damage was superficial: scuffed up hands and knees, bruised arm and shoulder, lots of dirt in my water bottle. However, a couple times I twisted my left ankle pretty bad, the same side I had my achilles problems. By mile 30 the ankle was swollen and the achilles was burning, although it had not forced me to limp (yet).

As night fell, the pain started to set in, both the pain of running all day and into the night and also in my increasingly swollen lower left leg. At 12 hours in, I had ran 75 miles, exactly my goal to beat my PR, however, I knew the likelihood of reaching the PR was becoming less and less and I could no longer put full weight on my left leg without some serious teeth grinding. I decided to stop for five minutes to rest and see how Bridget's 12 hour race finished.

It turns out, Bridget finished with 52 miles! Amazing accomplishment, more than 20 miles over her longest single stretch of running. Even more impressive, after a short rest, Bridget was helping me with my race and even joined for a few laps later on.

The 80 to 100 mile section was very tough so I was playing head games with myself. I was very close to walking so I kept telling myself: "Only one more lap and then we get to walk a bit". Then I would finish the lap and tell myself again: "Only one more lap and then we get to walk a bit." After a several laps of this torture, I was closing in on 100 miles. My goal became to get to 100 miles in under 18 hours. Mile 95-100 I felt like I was running hard and fast, but according to the splits, I was doing 15 minute miles. I was starting to slow big time, but I did the first 100 in under 18 hours, probably a new PR! (I am not exactly sure because most of my fastest 100 milers have come as a part of longer events: SF 24 hours, the 195 mile Windy 2 Indy, a 200k earlier this year).

I made it 100 miles in 18 hours and had 6 hours left to go. Just 30 miles in 6 hours to beat my PR. Normally 30 miles in 6 hours would be totally doable, but with the toll of mile and miles and messed up tendons and joints, it wasn't going to happen. So, my focus went to winning the race and trying to break the course record. The course record was 103 miles, so I felt I had that covered. After looking at the results this far I realized I had lapped everyone at least three times, so I was a minimum of 9 miles ahead of second place. 9 miles seems like a lot, but with 6 hours to go and me now mostly doing a slow walk, I had to keep going.

Fortunately, Bridget was (amazingly) willing and able to join me to walk a few laps. It gets lonely walking in the dark woods and I really appreciated the help. Also, the race staff were wonderful. They had everything available you could possibly want, and cheered the whole night. The only hard part was passing the nice bon fire they had set up every 3 miles.

Finally, the sun started to come up for the second time since the event started. With 30 minutes to go I was still around 9 miles ahead 114 miles total, so I got to sit down (whew).

Inspecting the damage, I lost 5 toenails, was bruised all over my left side, and my achilles and ankle are bad enough that I am not yet running a week later as I write this. On the plus side, I have some wonderful memories (in retrospect, painful at the time), a win, great time with fellow athletes/adventurers/head cases, and a nice hand made mirror for a prize. Awesome!

Chicago Lakefront 50 Mile

The Chicago Lake Front 50 Mile was my first race over 50k since my injury plagued run at Western States in June. However, I was feeling pretty good going into the race as I had a solid 2nd place performance at the Rock Cut Hobo Triple Crown Series and a surprise win at the Chicago Aids Foundation 10k a couple weeks prior. I also found out when I checked into the race that Oz Pearlman, course record holder, was not going to be in the race this year. I had run this race a couple other times and finished 4th with a best performance of 6hrs and 56mins. So, I thought I had a chance to win. I rarely go into a race with the thought of winning. Especially in distances of 50 miles or more it can be dangerous to be racing against your opponents rather than running your own race based on feel. But, I did it anyway and took off right from the start with thoughts on getting the win.

Very quickly from the start it was a two man race, myself and one other person. I believe his name was Scott. Not sure what his last name was but he was from Bloomington Indiana and he was fast. We did the first 12.5 mile loop averaging about 7 minutes a mile, with me coming in slightly ahead at the end of the loop. In the second loop Scott passed me and very slowly began pulling ahead. I tried to stick with him but I felt like anything faster than what I was doing would risk me completely falling apart in the second half of the race.

I came through the halfway point around 2hrs and 53 minutes. It was at that point that it hit me; I was about ready to break my marathon PR of 3hrs and 4mins as part of a 50 mile race! With my competitive juices flowing, I had not even thought about how fast we were going. It was a little nerve racking, I was in uncharted territory and wasn't sure how long I could hold onto this pace.

In the 3rd 12.5 mile loop the pain started to set in. My opponent was pulling ahead and I was quickly feeling like he had the upper hand. However, I didn't want to slow down significantly. For one, we still had a long way to go and anything can happen. Also, I have found that if I let off the gas, the adrenaline falls and the pain and cramping starts to take over. So I just kept the pace up as best I could.

As I finished the 3rd loop, a race volunteer said they had news: the leader had dropped. I was now in first place, at least 30 minutes ahead of the nearest competitor. With 12.5 miles still to go, I knew I had the win in hand as long as I held it together and didn’t completely collapse. My strategy for the 4th lap was now to keep the pace up enough to keep the adrenaline flowing and the cramps at bay, but not to push to hard until the end was in site.

I came into the finish first at 6hrs 13mins, beating my 50 mile PR by 43 minutes. I was completely shocked, I had no idea that I had the capacity to improve that much. It makes me wonder what else is possible.. Then, a few minutes later as soon as the excitement wore off, the cramps set in and I was rolling around on the ground like a man on fire. Ultrarunning makes sure you pay the piper in pain; if it doesn’t happen during, it will get you after.

Next up: A race that I was never ever going to do: Arrowhead 135. This was Hughs big idea. Peer pressure’s a mo fo. Training involves pulling a tire all over town to get used to towing all my own gear in a sled. Now I just need to figure out how to practice for -20F temps. Oh boy.

Western States 100

Western States 100. The grand daddy of 100 mile trail racing. The big mamba jamba. The big ouch.

For those that don't know, Western States started as a horse race in 1955 in part to show that horses could travel far across tough terrain. In 1974 Gordy Ainsleigh showed up without his horse, helping start the modern sport of ultra trail racing and became a legend. Gordy is now in his sixties and still participates in the most prestigious 100 mile race in the world.

From the Western States website: "The trail ascends from the Squaw Valley floor (elevation 6,200 feet) to Emigrant Pass (elevation 8,750 feet), a climb of 2,550 vertical feet in the first 4½ miles. From the pass, following the original trails used by the gold and silver miners of the 1850’s, runners travel west, climbing another 15,540 feet and descending 22,970 feet before reaching Auburn. Most of the trail passes through remote and rugged territory, accessible only to hikers, horses and helicopters." I have run races at altitude, races in the heat and races in the snow. This was the first race which combined all three.

My training going into this race was patchy. I was injured most of the winter with an ankle injury. For most of April and May I had some good training, doing 50-60 mile runs on the weekends, getting speedwork in, and doing the best I could with hill training by running up and down a small sledding hill next to Soldier Field for hours and hours on end (ick). With about 5 weeks to go until the race, I had a knee injury come up in my right knee, which basically forced me to do non-impact workouts like bike and stair machine right up to the race. I knew I wasn't really in the shape I needed to be for a big mountain 100 like this, but running Western States is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I already had my crew of Abby, Eric Bell, and Bob Cox booked and ready to go.

The race:
We started in Squaw Valley at 5:00am and up the mountain we went. The first part of the race involved a lot of hard packed and slippery snow. I think I fell 6 or 7 times, including one doozy in which I went sliding down the mountain headfirst on my back, desperately trying to stop myself from falling off a ledge, ended up hitting a tree and came to hard, butt-spreading sideways stop. Ouch. Not a great start, I knew I was going to be running the rest of the race with a knot in my bum. Good thing my butt's so skinny it doesn't matter much anyway. I did the first 20 miles in around 10:30 pace, not bad considering the terrain.

Once we made it past the majority of the snow, the running got much easier. In fact, this race surprised me by how runnable most of the course is. With a few very significant exceptions, most of the downhills are relaxed enough you can really let it fly. The uphills were a little bit of a different story, there were at least 3 times in which there were very steep 3 mile+ sections, although there was quite a bit of runnable uphill terrain to be found. At 30 miles I was feeling good, I met the team at Robinson Flat in an upbeat mood with only a ghost of a twinge from the old knee injury. I was starting to think I might get lucky and be able to push past the injury and lack of adequate training to win the coveted under 24 hour silver belt buckle. Unfortunately, It wouldnt be long before things would go downhill fast.

After the Last Chance aid station around mile 45 there is the first real steep downhill section that drops over 1500 feet or so, followed by a steep uphill to Devils Thumb. At some point during the downhill section, the knee injury came back with a vengeance. Every step shot sharp pains through my whole leg and my range was seriously limited both uphill and down. Also, my quads were totally shot. The combined pain from the knee and quads was truly unbearable, nearly the worst feeling I have had. After the long, slow climb up to Devils Thumb, I had gone 48 miles in around 10 hours, well ahead of 24 hour pace, but I knew that it would be impossible to maintain speed with a bum knee. The smart thing to do would have been to stop and save myself for another race, another day. However, running Western States is a once in a lifetime thing, I didn't come all this way to quit, and besides, this is what I came for: truly testing my mettle when the going gets tough. The thought to quit was quickly put away, I was now in a fight to finish.

I saw my crew again around mile 55, it was wonderful to see everyone, I needed all the support I could get. They were extremely helpful but I think they could see that I was in a world of hurt. In fact, at almost every aid station the volunteers would ask me if I was all right as soon as they looked at my face. I must have looked awful. I certainly felt awful. Either the pain or the heat or both was causing dizzy spells, and I couldn't see clearly. At times I had trouble keeping my eyes focused and on the trail.

At mile 62 I was thankfully joined by Bob Cox, my pacer and Executive Director of the wonderful non-profit, Impossible 2 Possible. For the last 7 miles I had been doing barely more than a swift walk, but after some coaxing from Bob and a few teeth clenching screams, I was able to put together an ugly but somewhat effective run. We went that way for 10-15 miles with tears streaming down my cheeks while the sun went down.

The sun going down helped my head a bit, but my pace continued to slow. By the time we got to the river crossing at mile 78, we were well behind 24 hour pace and I was now seriously worried about making the 30 hour cutoff. The next 10 miles were a blur, with many people passing us, including Amy Palmiero-Winters, the first amputee to successfully complete the race. One seriously tough woman.

Interestingly, Bob was the first one of us to have hallucinations. At some point he asks me: "Did you see that? I think I saw a.. I think I am seeing things, I just saw a woman in a purple dress cross the path." There was definitely no one in a purple dress crossing our path in a middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. We both had a good laugh and got back to the task at hand.

We got to Brown's Bar at mile 90 around 5:00am, with the second sunrise of this run on the horizon. I was basically limited to a shuffle from this point on, but I knew as long we didn't stop too long at the aid stations, a finish under the 30 hour cutoff was likely.

We got to see Abby and Eric one more time at No Hands Bridge, quickly refilled our bottles, and (slowly) pounded out the last 3 miles.

Getting to the track at Placer High School was wonderful. I had pushed through and survived one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. I crossed the line in just over 28 hours and 30 minutes.

I must not have been drinking enough the last 10 miles, because I was 140 pounds at the finish line, over 7 pounds less than at the start. The world started spinning and my blood pressure quickly dropped. I went to the aid station and got my first ever IV bag. Another new experience! I was quickly feeling better, although a lot of damage was done.

I really paid the price for this one. As I write this blog post almost a week after the start I still am walking with a major limp (A big improvement from not being able to walk at all Sunday and Monday). I am guessing my knee will take at least a couple of months to heal.

Was it worth it? I would have to say a resounding hell yeah! While my speed and placing left much to be desired, fast races and high places are not what this sport is about. I was able to face the darkness and come out the other side with the knowledge that if you put your mind to it, you really can accomplish almost anything.

Headlands Hundred

As it turns out, Pacific Coast Trail Runs Headlands Hundred was my big finale in the bay area before the move back to Chicago in September. It's been a lot of fun getting to know the running community here, everyone will be missed.

I will also miss all the hills to train on, HH gave me an opportunity to see what I can do when there are a LOT of hills, over 20,000 feet of elevation gain. To get an idea of what that kind of gain looks like, check out this great flyover video posted by the Endurables.

The course was a 25 mile loop done "washing machine" style, which apparently means each loop alternates directions. At the start line I noticed a lot of really fast runners. People like Brian Krogmann, Mark Tanaka, and Ray Sanchez were just a few of the people there (that I knew of) with impressive running resume's. My money however, was on Nathan Yanko. Nathan was running his first 100 mile race, but I knew from seeing him before that he had some real talent, and was coming in well prepared. I had a feeling that the previous course record of 20hrs 20mins would fall by the end of the race.

7:00am Saturday we all got started and immediately hit the first steep climb. Only a few of us ran the majority of the hill. No sense in getting into a huge rush, no matter what it's gonna be a looong day. I spent most of the first 25 mile lap trying to stay relaxed and keep an efficient stride. Around mile 16 I was running with Nathan, talking about strategy for the race when he relayed that we were currently in 2nd and 3rd place. This was a little worrisome, I really didn't want to go out too fast, but I also didn't want to waste my opportunity to run well while I was feeling good. The first 25 mile lap went very smooth, coming in at 4hrs 3mins, well ahead of my goal pace. The only real pain was the quarter mile or so of sand that we had to run on to cross Rodeo Beach. Running in sand is painfully slow, and now I had sand digging into the spots where my toenails used to be (I had lost a few toenails in my last race and they hadn't grown back yet). I made sure to give Race Director Sarah a semi good naturedly hard time about making us all run through the sand when I saw her.

The next 25 mile lap went the other direction, so first thing we did was run through the sand again (Sarah, I'm still blaming you personally). In my opinion, running the course this direction was much harder. While the elevation change was obviously the same either way, it just seemed a lot less runable in spots. Nevertheless, I was still feeling pretty good for most of lap 2, except for all the blisters that were now open and filled with sand. With about 3 miles to go in the second lap, I notice Brian Krogmann running toward me cursing like a sailor. Apparently, he had missed a turn and had taken a detour for a few miles. I feel his pain, I am terrible at following directions, and have gotten lost on even the best marked courses. It's demoralizing to know that you know have to run a 103 mile race, instead of 100. Even though 3 miles doesn't seem like much in a 100 mile race, 3 miles is still not a short distance. I made a note to self to make sure I didn't miss that turn when it came around again at night. I Finished the first 50 miles in 5th place (I think) around 9hrs 15mins. Now things were about to get serious.

As is the case with all 100 milers, the second 50 miles is where people have to put their cajones on the line. Besides the typical fatigue and muscle soreness, some of the ultrarunning specific pains and injuries were starting to pile up. My shoulders hurt from holding my arms out all day, I was down to 4 total toe nails, and I had bloody rub spots around my collar, waistband, thighs, and um 'private areas'. For some reason, body glide just wasn't doing the trick this time. Luckily, blood is a good lubricant. Also, stomach upset was kicking in. I knew I had to eat, but I couldn't manage to swallow any solid foods. Not good when there is still 40 miles to go. While at an aid station trying to decide if there was something, anything that I could manage to swallow and keep down, I saw an empty ensure bottle in the trash can. Hmmm. I had never drank ensure, but I knew a lot of ultrarunners who did. I asked around at the aid station, and someone happened to have one in their car, success! Abby offered to go get some more at a store, so the rest of the race I was on an all liquid diet and the stomach issues disappeared.

While I was doing my best to run up a gnarly hill, Mark Tanaka came strolling up from behind. We talked for a while, and it turned out Mark had just completed an Ironman Triathlon the previous weekend! Wow. Just when I start to think I am getting pretty tough, someone comes along and shows what the next level is like. I suggested that maybe he take the next weekend off.

With 30 miles to go, darkness set in. My all pro pacer, Eric, gave me my headlamp and flashlight with the plan that he would join me at mile 75. I Finished the 3rd 25 mile lap in 4th place around 14hrs 30mins.

One more tough lap to go. I am glad Eric was there, he kept me motivated and on course. I probably wasn't the most pleasant running partner at all times and every few minutes I would let out a long groan. The first half of the last lap was a slog; I was doing my best just to be "running" although a lot of the terrain was basically walking. I was definitely slowing down. By the time Eric and I crested the tallest hill with 10 miles to go, I was toast. We limped into the next to last aid station with 8 miles to go.

As we were leaving the aid station, 5th place Dan Fish and his pacer came in to the aid station looking strong. At first I was apathetic; what's one more position? I was doing better than I had hoped, maybe I will just let them catch us. Then, suddenly I was racing. I couldn't let someone catch me with less than 8 miles to go. Besides, I didn't have anything I was saving myself for the next day. I started picking up speed, and was going faster than we had gone in hours. However, Dan and his pacer were still keeping up, and even catching up. We kept seeing their headlamps getting closer and closer. I was going to have to find another gear. With 5 miles to go, I decided there was no point in holding anything back at that point, and picked up the pace again. I musta been going pretty good, because Eric was suddenly way behind me. Looks like the last few miles would be on my own.

I ran into the last aid station telling Abby that I needed one more ensure on the double. Someone was hot on my tail and I didn't want to slow down. I thought for a second about getting extra batteries for the headlamp and flashlight since I was going to be on my own, but I didn't want to waste the time slowing down.

Naturally, a few minutes outside the last aid station my headlamp died (the box that the headlamp came in claimed it would last 25 hours, what a crock). I now only had a small flashlight and it was dark and foggy. I was also running as fast as I could, so it was a recipe for a faceplant or a tumble down a hill. Only sheer dumb luck kept me on my feet and Seeing Brian take the wrong turn earlier in the day was instrumental in making sure I didn't make the same wrong turn. Remarkably, losing my headlamp actually helped me run faster because I knew if my flashlight went out too, I was toast. 98 miles in, I was running up hills that I previously thought were too steep to run.

Thankfully, my flashlight held on through the final climb, and 20hrs 36mins after I started, I finished in 4th place. Whew! I was very happy with my performance, especially with so many quality runners in the race. Thanks to my crew, Abby and Eric, and everyone else who made the race possible. By the way, Nathan Yanko did end up winning and crushing the record in 18hrs 45mins.

What a great race, and a great year that it has been in California. I plan on coming back soon. One little tidbit that I was wondering if other runners experience: For three days after the race, I had this nagging feeling that I was still running. The best way I can think of describing it is like the feeling you get after being on a boat for a long time and then when you are on land it still feels like you are swaying. I would also have a constant feeling that I need to hurry up and get a move on, even if I didn't have anywhere to go. I think I got in such a mode of constantly pushing myself, that it took a few days to wear off. I wonder if this happens to anyone else?