Over the last decade or so, the focus of my writing on this platform has shifted considerably. What began as a place to document the everyday running reflections of a new runner quickly morphed into an ultra-running testimony and most recently, a space for reflection on all manner of human experiences. Throughout much of that time, there have been a few constants. My interest and desire to be a part of the Western States Endurance Run is at the top of that list. From the moment I threw myself into running longer distances, Western States was a common thread of dialogue. No matter where you went or who you talked to, people had thoughts, stories, and experiences. I began running qualifying races to enter the Western States lottery in 2016, and after 7 long years, had the honor of hearing my name called at the lottery this past December. Since then, the training, planning, and anticipation for my chance to run the oldest and most famous 100-miler of them all has been about as all-encompassing as possible while still maintaining the rest of my life.
Those 10 years of dreaming, 7 years of training and qualifying, and countless miles of planning, plotting, and geeking out with others finally brought me to the starting line of the Western States Endurance Run at 5am on Saturday, June 24th. I made the trip west to South Lake Tahoe for the start with Eric and Chris, two amazing friends who agreed to support and pace me throughout the race. The Tahoe environment was infectious from the moment we arrived. We had a chance for a few shake-out runs and hikes in the days before the race, along with plenty of socializing and story-telling with other runners. The Palisades Tahoe Ski Resort was taken over by the Western States community, and the sense of family and genuineness was almost immediate. I've never had any interest whatsoever in a Disney trip, but I have to imagine that the excitement and giddiness I felt being there was akin so what Disney folks often feel upon arriving. Needless to say, I was in my element.
Although I've run plenty of 100 mile races in the past decade, the anticipation and significance of this race had me feeling a bit flustered and overthinking things far more than I normally would. Chris thankfully reminded me that at the end of the day, this was just another 100-mile race, and I'd been there and knew what to do. I eventually took that sentiment to heart and relaxed, got everything packed, and even got a good night's sleep despite the 3am alarm.
The race begins at the base of a mountain and the starting line was buzzing with energy as the sun threatened to peek out over the peaks. As the gun went off, I took a deep breath, started my watch, and began the forward momentum that would take me from Tahoe to Auburn, CA, some 100 miles to the southwest. In broad strokes, my race can be broken up into four segments.
The first section, from the start to mile 30.7 (Robinson Flat), is all about the mountainous high country. You begin your day with a 2-ish mile steep climb up the escarpment, all the while gaining over 2,000 feet. The 370 runners stayed fairly closely clustered and everyone slowly made their way up, not wanting to burn too much energy that early. There were quite a few spectators lining the course all the way up to the top, which gave the summit an amazing energy as the sun rose! Once we made it to the top we started going up and down ridgeline after ridgeline in the Granite Chief Wilderness Area. There was record snowfall in the Tahoe area this past winter, and the melting was taking considerably longer than in past years. This ultimately meant that I spent about 20 miles slipping, sliding, falling, and stumbling my way through snow pile after snow pile. The running was slow and I felt like I spent as much time on my butt as I did upright. Everyone was struggling with these miles, but we couldn't help but smile at the amazing natural beauty surrounding us. I kept reminding myself "I get to do this!" We spent much of the time above 7,000 feet and the old growth forests and snow-capped mountain views were unreal. I arrived at this aid station and crew access point about 90 minutes later than I had planned, but was in good spirits and very happy to see Eric and Chris. I changed my socks after more than a few stream crossings, refilled my water and nutrition, and left with a giant ice-filled bandana. The mid-day heat was upon me, although this ended up being the 4th coolest race in it's 50-year history. I wasn't taking any chances, and kept myself cool, wet, and hydrated all day.
Robinson Flat to Michigan Bluff (mile 55.7)This section, known as the "Canyons", drops you down several thousand feet and is notoriously hot at mid-day, with temperatures reaching as high as 105. Luckily, it was on the cooler side this year, but I was definitely still feeling the heat. The first 13 miles or so drop steadily, lower and lower into the canyon. The trails began to get more runnable, combined with some fire road sections, and I started making up time and passing folks on this section. The real beast of this section begins around mile 45 with a steep 1500 foot climb up Devils Thumb in the span of less than 2 miles. I arrived here around 4pm, which helped with the heat, but the extra work in the high country meant my quads were definitely feeling worn down and that climb was a struggle. The aid station at the top of the climb was akin to an oasis, and I took a much needed breather before continuing on back down into a second canyon. The second climb, up to Michigan Bluff, gains just as much elevation, but over a slightly longer period. However, a clueless comment from a volunteer had me worrying about my time on this climb and fearful of missing the cutoff so I pushed harder than necessary before doing the math myself and realizing I was fine. I was greeted by Chris as I reached Michigan Bluff and he was ready to infuse me with some much needed energy and momentum. He and Eric got me situated like a well-oiled pit crew and Chris took off with me to pace me for the next 6 miles.
Michigan Bluff to Pointed Rocks (mile 94.3)I had not expected Chris to be able to pace me for these six miles, and it was a very welcome surprise! His goal from the moment we began was to move fast and efficient, and to start challenging me to claw back even more time. We were moving well and started passing folks comfortably as he gave me run/hike instructions and I followed his lead. The sun was going down as we headed out, and his energy counteracted the fading light wonderfully. We switched our headlamps on after a bit, and so began the overnight portion of the race, characterized by a much more limited awareness of the trail in front of you, illuminated by your headlamp. We reached the Foresthill aid station (62.7), which was a huge milestone owing to the size and energy of the aid station and the fact that the course gets much more runnable the rest of the way. After a quick pitstop to refuel and trade out lights, Eric headed out with me into the night. The next 16 miles seemed to fly by with him leading the way. We cruised through aid stations, shared stories, and generally treated it like any other run. We reached the Rucky Chucky aid station (mile 78) quicker than Chris had anticipated, and he almost missed us. I drank a second Starbucks Doubleshot for a bit of extra energy, and Eric and I made our way down to the bank of the American River. Most years, there would be a cable and volunteers to assist as you waded across the waist high water to the other side. However, the massive snowfalls this past year meant the river was considerably higher and the current was much stronger. As a result, we got to hop in a raft and be taken across to the other side. It felt momentous to reach this point, and gave us yet more energy as we tackled the next climb.
The next 10 miles flew by, and before we knew it, the sun was rising, and we were coming down into the Quarry Rd. aid station (mile 90.7). Much to my surprise, I was greeted by ultra-running legends Scott Jurek and Hall Koerner, who graciously refilled my bottles and helped me with my nutrition. I was simultaneously freaking out and overjoyed at the reality of meeting two of my ultra-running heroes. The fact that they were out there, in the early morning hours, supporting and cheering on other runners is yet one more piece of evidence as to why this sport and this community is so incredibly amazing. After a few obligatory photos, Eric and I headed out along the banks the of American River and made our way up to the Pointed Rocks aid station.
When Eric and I ran into the aid station and saw Chris, I finally let myself breathe a bit and believe that I was indeed going to get this done. The sun was up and I could taste the finish line. After some easy encouragement from Chris, I left my vest with Eric, and Chris and I took off to tackle the final 6 miles. The miles ticked off effortlessly and we found ourselves chatting about all manner of things. After a few miles, we reached the iconic "No Hands Bridge", which was once the tallest concrete suspension bridge in CA, and I made my way across. The victory lap was beginning, but first we needed to make the final large climb up to Robie Point. I crested the climb and popped out into the neighborhood amidst the cheers of spectators and local folks and felt a jolt of energy. I sprinted a few times past folks, and Eric met us there so the three of us could run the final mile together. The emotion and the enormity of the experience began to consume me and I just kept pushing. As I entered the Placer High School track, I was joined by a camera person who was filming each of the runners as they finished. My excitement and emotion reached a crescendo and I began to sprint the 300 meters to the finish line, a smile permanently affixed to my face. As I crossed the finish line, I stomped on it and let out a guttural scream.
To say it's been a challenging year, with the loss of both of my parents, would be an understatement. They were always my biggest cheerleaders and supporters and this race was very much for them. Finishing the Western States Endurance Run is a far cry from the fifth grader forced to run a mile in gym class despite his severe asthma, collapsing, embarrassed, on the track as classmates soaked me with water. Life is funny that way, I suppose.
There's no question in my mind that I wouldn't have finished the race without the amazing and selfless commitment of Eric and Chris, for which I will be eternally grateful. The same is true of the support I receive every single day from my partner, Melissa. She believes in me, even when I might not believe in myself.
This particular journey might be over, buckle in hand, but there will most certainly be more adventures to come. Let's see what's next!
