I Had Promises To Keep

July 2nd, 2010 Posted in Story

Kissed the ground.  Yup, that was my first act after stepping across the 2010 Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run finish line.  After 16 years of trying to reach that sliver of earth, it finally happened, and I needed to thank the good Lord above and Mother Earth below for enabling it to happen.  This run had brought me to my knees so many times before, it seemed only right - respectful - that I fall to my knees in thanks once the deed was complete.

The Diesel chugged along on June 26th and into June 27th to finish the most venerated ultra run of our times, in 25 hours and 49 minutes.  Words cannot begin to describe the emotions I felt, and still feel about finally achieving this multi-decade goal.  And I am so humbled and speechless by the outpouring of support I received before, during and after the race from my family, friends, colleagues and fellow ultra runners.  Those of you who know me well, have insight into how much completing Western meant to me.  It wasn’t just a 100 miler, or a race - it may have started out that way back in 1993 when I first got into the lottery - but it had become a life’s journey, a test of my strength, endurance, will power and spirit.  I wanted to believe I could change, adjust to the failures, comeback and be a better person for the effort.

Sitting here today, four days after completing the race, I’ve had the opportunity to reflect and assess and can say without a doubt that I have gained refreshed insight into who I am and what I have left to accomplish in this life.  Completing Western closes one gate and open another for me - and I hope to carry forward my experiences in ways I never would have known or appreciated if I hadn’t finished the journey.  Not to go all spiritual on you but in many ways Western has cleansed me.

The Not So Gory Details

Unlike past years, this race went off without the wheels coming off the Diesel train.  Other than a couple of black(er) big toes, I escaped with not a single blister on my feet.  Remarkable given this year we crossed over a dozen creeks and streams before reaching Robinson Flat at ~ mile 30 (due to the late run off of snow pack). Feet were essentially wet for 2/3rd of the day no matter how hard you tried to keep them dry.  My stomach remained steady throughout the entire trip, thanks to the new fueling plan that I adopted right after Western 2009.  I’ll admit the Shot Blocs were hard to choke down by mile 90 and the powder mix that I blend for giving me 300+ calories per hour started to taste like what I was excreting on the trail, but I survived almost exclusively on these two fuels along with S-Cap electrolyte tabs for the entire race.  On three occasions I downed chicken broth and a few pieces of watermellon and banana but that was it.  Oh, and of course began drinking Coke, Seven Up and Ginger Ale like it was shots of Jack Daniels at every aid station starting mile 38.

My race plan was to run well within myself, using the heart rate monitor as my guide.  Normally I’ll run an ultra averaging 135 beats per minute but for Western I chose to go out conservative and run an average of 126 BPM or 70% of my maximum HR.  I wanted to be sure I had the energy and legs to work the four canyons in the middle of the race, which make or break you at Western.  Turns out the plan worked well as I arrived into Duncan Canyon (mile 24) feeling very fresh, Robinson Flats (mile 29) feeling confident and dusty Corners (mile 38) feeling ready to take on the canyons.  I passed many runners down to Swinging Bridge and up Devil’s Thumb (mile 50), climbing the Thumb in 35 minutes.  I threw it into neutral for the long downhill run to El Dorado Creek  (mile 52) and then climbed up to Michigan Bluff aggressively in 50 minutes.  As I came into the MB aid station and saw my phenomenal crew, I got the emotional lift I was looking for to cruise through Volcano Canyon and climb hard up to and through Bath Road (mile 60).  Dan Fowkes, the man who introduced me to all this craziness years ago and dear friend met me at the bottom of Bath Road and provided me with wisdom of what lied ahead.

When I Knew

Approaching Foresthill Aid Station (mile 62) was very uplifting.  The cheering of the crowds, my crew and many friends who had made the trek to see me come in, fuel up and quickly depart, was inspirational and I could feel the adrenaline pump through my veins.  Drew, my youngest son suited up and joined me as we shuffled out of the station and down the road to the Cal Loop.  It was at that moment, where

I felt this incredible and overwhelming feeling sweep over me, that I began to quietly weep.  I realized that this feeling was bliss, euphoria - because I knew I was going to finish and I had all my loved ones around me.  I literally choked on my emotion.

Drew was an exceptional pacer.  He’d only run one trail run before, a 50K race back in early 2009, but his instincts of knowing what to do and say were uncanny.  We began the Cal Loop strong but I discovered my heart rate monitor was malfunctioning giving me unrealistic high readings.

That caused me to back off which in retrospect slowed my system down.  By Cal 2 Aid Station (mile 70) I had begun to have to walk - downhill, uphill and the flats.  The air went out of my body and I just couldn’t muster a steady run as before.  It was also turning dark and I discovered that the trail was difficult to see with the kind of contact lenses I use (one eye for reading and the other for distance).  This all conspired to walk, shuffle, run combo all the way to Cal 3.  I tripped on an undistinguished rock right before  Cal 3 and fell hard on my right shoulder.  Drew described me as looking”in shock” as I lay on the side of the trail gathering my wits.  I had pulled muscles in my hamstring and thighs with the fall and thus slowly returned to my feet, taking inventory of any damages.  Assessing I was fine (thankfully) but for a very sore shoulder, we pressed on.  Admittedly, this fall however, caused me to exercise extreme caution as we moved through the night on narrow, single track trails since at this point in the race, I’d calculated that the only thing that was going to stop me from finishing was a bad fall that could cause a sprain or break which would prevent me from moving.

Drew and I were passed by a few groups of runners/pacers as we exited Cal 3 heading towards the river crossing, Rucky Chucky (mile 78).  No one never likes to be passed as it serves to place negative thoughts in a runner’s mind.  I’m no different.  So, after passing runners the entire day to this point, it was really bothering me that now we, were on the receiving end.  After growing tired of these brief negative thoughts, I summoned up some strength and began to increase our pace and then began to stride and run.  We cruised for about 2 miles right up to the Aid Station and passed all but one of the teams that had passed us along the way in the Cal Loop.  It felt good to be running again indeed.  The river crossing this year was by boat due to the dangerous water level from the snow melt.  The system the officials employed was genius - two ample rubber rafts going from shore to shore in opposite direction with an oarsman powering each swiftly across the gap.  It must have taken less than 2 minutes to make the crossing and our feet were perfectly dry - what a treat!  Drew and I powered up the 2 mile climb to Green Gate (mile 80) and were greeted by our crew who once again were incredibly prepared for our arrival at 11:30 pm.

The Pacer Transition And Into The Night

Patrick, my elder son, took over pacing duties from Drew at Green Gate.  Drew had done his job - getting me to Green Gate in good shape, four hours after leaving Foresthill.  I would have liked to have done it in 3:30 but that wasn’t meant to be given the slow down in the middle of the loop.  Now Pat had the challenge of helping me navigate the narrowest of trails in the dark of night with me struggling to see and my legs, particularly my quads, beginning to give out.  We soon discovered that the full moon we were blessed with was of little use to use.  In fact it cast shadows on an already difficult to see trail, hiding the numrous roots and rocks that seem to just jump up and grab you during this tedious trip in and out and in and out of the canyon towards Auburn Lakes Trail Aid (mile 85) and Brown’s Bar (mile 89).  I had been reduced to a walk, sometimes shuffle.  This was going to be a long trip to the finish but indeed, we had plenty of time to complete our task so we resolved to be safe, avoiding a misstep that could take either of us off the precipitous trail edge and down a ravine.  Numerous times I lost my balance crossing a stream and had to rely on leaning on Pat who would steady me across. He was a rock and a delightful companion all night long.   I must have looked drunk to him at times as I began to weave back and forth as we struggled on.  All day long I’d been 1.5 lbs below my starting weight which was fantastic.  So as we weighed in at ALT, the aid station person pursed her lips and said, “Oh, you’re a pound and half down from your starting weight.  You need to stop and take on some food before going on.”  The look I gave her likely could have bore a hole in her forehead had I not moved my focus towards what was the fastest way out of this station!  After maintaining the same weight all day long, over 85 miles, the last thing I was going to do was stop now and chow down.  So Pat and I made like a slug and slipped out of the station, into the dark abyss, escaping what could have been a big mistake.

By Brown’s Bar (mile 89) I was shuffling again, albeit very slowly.  A steep downhill follows that station and terminates at the river.  I rued this part of the course since by now I realized I had lost all hope of running downhill and was stuck in a single gear - uphill!  So we “ouched” and “ughed” our way down stream and finally (mercifully) hit bottom.  I then attempted to run on the jeep road.  Nothing doing.  So back to a shuffle and walk we went.  Finally we reached the mile climbed to 49er Aid (mile 93.5) and I discovered the uphill gear was fully intact.  we literally flew up that hill, passing numerous teams along the way.  Remarkably, up to 49er, despite the many walking miles, I had maintained my position in the field (about 135-140th) because of our ability to power up the hills.  That however, was about to change in the final 10K.

The Final Push

Patrick had been patient and diligent with me.  He made me drink and eat when I thought it was impossible and kept me moving, step by step without fail.  We never once stopped.  we just kept moving through the night.  At 49ers he handed the pacing duties over to Joe Angel, my best friend from high school, best man at my wedding and I at his) and lifelong soul mate.  Joe jumped in behind me as we powered up the hill towards Cool at a pretty fast clip.  However, I warned him that the 2+ mile downhill to No Hands Bridge (mile 96) was going to be a tedious and slow haul as my quads were now in considerable pain and each step downhill was like someone poking a pocket knife into the muscle.  He was a true friend trying to distract me from the pain with jokes, songs and stories.  I wasn’t cooperating very much as all I wanted was for this to end- NOW!  As we arrived at NHB I knew we were ~4 miles from achieving the goal.  A little adrenaline entered my system and we began to shuffle a bit.  By the time we hit the uphills we were really moving.  The we crested the hill - a point I’d run literally hundreds of times before, and began our last climb up to Robie Point (mile 99) and along the streets of Auburn towards the Placer County High School Stadium.  My entire crew and friends greeted us as we came up the hill and ran with us (Cali our new Welsh Corgi puppy included) all the way to the track for the last mile.

As I hit the red rubber turf of the track, I felt as though I’d been transported into air.  I floated around the track towards the finish line with my entire entourage at my side - moving as quickly as I could muster to be respectable but savoring every step along the way.  As we approached the finish I went left and the crew went right.  I crossed the line at 25 hours, 49 minutes and 54 seconds, 150th place overall.  Then I looked skyward to give thanks and then went to my knees to kiss the earth upon which I’d tread for over a day.

Following the medical check (BP and pulse were normal) and weigh-in (2.5 lbs below starting weight) I hugged my sons, Dan, Joe, Ted Moore and Perry Edward (my dear friends from Auburn and huge supporters) and then hugged Marcy, my biggest fan, my anchor, my life, my love.  My heart beat so hard as she gripped me tight.  It was over.  We had finally conquered the Mountain and now, after all that work to get here, She was rewarding me with an outpouring of love that I will never forget.  “THIS”, I thought to myself, was why I did this - and it was worth every bit of pain along the way.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

I sleep now.