Western States 2015 Race Report

WESTERN STATES 2015 RACE REPORT 

  Date - June 27th-28th, 2015

Location - Squaw Valley to Auburn

During the week that led up to Western States, I remembered back to what some others had told me about this race and that was, “To take it all in”. That’s exactly what I planned to do. I realized back then that this would be one of my most memorable running accomplishments. Therefore, as soon as I knew that I would be an official starter, I decided to form a small crew, recruit a pacer, and spread the word to immediate family members and numerous Facebook friends. I even created a Facebook Messenger Group of around 10 or so other family members that informed them of my participation in the run. To say that I was excited to finally be in this race was an understatement.

Here’s my story….

On the morning of Thursday June 25^th, I headed up to Squaw Valley to start the first day of the Race Week Agenda. The first item on the day's agenda was the Western States Welcome, which was to start at 9:30 am. When I arrived, I was surprised to see a smaller than expected crowd, who had gathered not too far from the starting line arch. Soon after the introductions and welcome messages concluded, the next item on the agenda was an optional 4-mile trek up to Emigrant Pass and Watson’s Monument for some Western States inspiration.

Watson's Monument

                                                                                                                                                    I debated on whether or not to take the tram ride to the monument or hike the dirt road. After I heard that the tram ride cost a little more than what I was willing to pay, I decided to go for a hike. The weather warmed up even before I started. After I arrived at the summit, a relatively large crowd gathered near a fence line, where an American Flag was placed.

During the course of the next half hour, I took in a few pictures, heard some inspirational quotes and details about the course, and was part of a large group photo. 

                I proceeded back down the mountain and arrived back at the Village just before 2:00 pm. Since the next scheduled event would not start until 2:30 pm, I decided to head over to the Village to relax. After awhile, I walked over to the Conference Center where the next scheduled event called Crewing A Western States Runner was held. I felt somewhat out of place when I arrived, since there was no one from my crew actually with me. However, I did learn some valuable information that I knew would be useful for my crew. After the presentation concluded, I decided to make my way back to Reno. 

The next morning, I headed back up to Squaw for the runner check-in and pre-race meeting. I arrived around 9:30 in the morning, and then proceeded to the drop bag collection area, where I left several bags for delivery to various aid stations along the course. Next, I headed over to the race registration and check-in area, which took place inside a building next to the Olympic Plaza near the start line arch.

It was a rather interesting check-in process. First, I was asked a few questions about past ultra races and personal running gear then went through a series of check-in stations where I picked up a race-stitched backpack and numerous other amenities before I had my picture taken in a goofy looking hat.

 






I had hoped to see the start of the Montrail 6k uphill challenge, but by the time I finished with check-in, the race had already started. For the next several hours, I strolled around the village, spotted a bear in the area and had a bite to eat at the Fireside Pizza Company. Soon after lunch, I headed over to the Conference Center for the pre-race meeting. It was standing room only. Among other information about the run, the crowd was presented with a welcome message from the CEO of Squaw Valley Andy Wirth, a medical briefing and the presentation of last year’s Top Ten finishers, on both the men’s and women’s sides. After the meeting, I decided to head home. Around 5:45 that evening, I met up for dinner with my pacer Juan and my crew of Michael, Allison, Scott, Roland and Laura. Later that night, the one thought that had run through my mind the most was, who would show up to see me run and most importantly, finish.  

The next morning, I was awake by 2:30. Soon after, Michael, Allison and Juan came to take me to the start. We arrived at the Squaw Valley parking area just after 4:00 am. I prepared my main race bag to give to Roland and Laura, whom I met up with soon after I arrived and checked in. I felt excitement in the air and the tension was high as the minutes ticked down to the 5:00 am start.

               




          Finally, I heard the sound of the shotgun and roughly 370 energized trail runners began their long-awaited journeys up the face of Squaw. For the first 4 miles, I kept a steady pace up the initial ascent of around 2,500 feet. On the way up, I saw 2 great running friends of mine, along the edge of the trail, John and Jill, whose daughter Katie, was entered in this year’s race for the first time. Further up the road, I ran into my pacer, Juan, who cheered me on as I continued up the mountain. By this time, the morning’s sunlight had already made its way to the horizon and filled the sky with an incredible sunrise. I arrived at the top at just a little over an hour, right on the pace that I had initially set for myself. Before I descended the ridge, I took one last look behind me to take in the sunrise that spread itself over Lake Tahoe.

The pace of the other runners around me intensified as the course went to a single track and through the dense forest of the Granite Chief Wilderness. I felt I ran pretty well through the first 10 1/2 miles, when I arrived at the Lyon Ridge aid station slightly faster than I had expected. The first person I recognized was my friend Cheryl. She gave me a hug and I told her that I was doing great.

Then, as soon as I looked over to the food table, I saw another friend of mine, EJ. He was so excited to see me that he stopped what he was doing, came around the table and gave me the biggest bear hug that I’ve ever had. It was fantastic.

I don’t think I stayed for more than a minute before I was back on the course. Over the next 6 miles of mostly single track, I passed one landmark that I distinctly remember and that was Cougar Rock. From this vantage point, you can see back to the vast wilderness to where the race began. I remembered this landmark from just 2 weeks earlier, when I ran with my Silver State Strider ultra group on a reconnaissance mission of the first 30 miles. Throughout this section, the pace of the other runners was still faster than I was comfortable with, but I didn’t want that to intimidate me. I just wanted to run my own race, my own pace.

I arrived at the Red Star aid station and mile 16 just before 9:00 am, slightly under my goal pace. I knew at these early aid stations, which were farther apart than I would’ve liked, I knew I had to conserve as much energy as I could without feeling uncomfortable. I spent only about 5 minutes at the aid station, before I headed back out.

I reached Duncan Canyon around 24 miles just after 10:30 am, still faster than my goal pace. It was here that I really enjoyed the effort made by all the volunteers to really take care of the runner. I noticed this dedication when I started to re-fuel, as one volunteer seemed to monitor my every move and even led me to the most refreshing part of the whole process, buckets full of ice water and sponges, or as a volunteer at a later aid station would call it, the “car wash”. Even before the race began, I knew I had to keep hydrated as much as possible, which I had thought about, the entire time I ran. I didn’t stay long before I headed downhill and towards Duncan Canyon itself. I knew there was a smaller unnamed creek just about a mile away, but I looked forward to the much larger, deeper and colder creek at around mile 26. When I arrived, I literally laid down in the water to cool off. I felt quite refreshed and re-energized after the long awaited submersion. The next 4 uphill miles, however, would slowly take its toll on me and my overall time.

I came into Robinson Flat at just under 30 miles around 12:20 pm, this time, about an hour behind my goal pace. Two of my crew members, Roland and Laura were there to greet me. I quickly re-fueled, re-hydrated and changed socks. The next 13 miles would take me into new running territory, but I knew if I could maintain a steadier pace than before, I could possibly make up some ground, given the fact that the elevation chart for this section showed that it was mostly downhill.

I arrived at Miller’s Defeat and mile 34.4 just after 1:30 pm, a still slower, yet respectable pace than I had hoped. After I fueled up and went through another “car wash”, I continued down the dirt road that headed to the next aid station, Dusty Corners. However, only a few minutes after I had left the aid station, I heard someone call out, “this way, man”. I had run slightly off course. After I turned to correct my bearings, I was finally headed in the right direction. During the next few miles, I felt alone and had no confidence in the course flagging, since they seemed so sporadic. Nevertheless, I did find my way to Dusty Corners, a rather larger than expected aid station at mile 38. There, I ran into someone who I didn’t expect to see, another running friend of mine Luis, who was there to volunteer.
 

We briefly chatted about the course and how I felt. I told him I was pretty good. I just needed to continue to fuel up and hydrate. I also saw a few other friends of mine, Bill and Dorothy, who were waiting on their runners to arrive. Once I had left Dusty Corners, one view that I looked forward to, was that of Pucker Point. Even though I had never been on this section of the course before, I knew I was there when the trail opened up to a deep canyon view and river gorge that appeared to the right of the trail. It was an incredible sight. At this point in the race, I really wanted to get to the Last Chance aid station, the part of the course that I was most familiar with. I had slightly picked up the pace, when I arrived at Last Chance at around 3:45 pm, but it was still slower than I had hoped. I knew the section ahead was flat and headed down a steep descent toward the swinging bridge. However, I started to feel sluggish and quite a bit slower as I approached that section of the course. It was also here, that I felt really alone, more than ever before. It felt as if the race wasn’t really happening, as the runners were spread out even more, but I continued to push on.

Swinging Bridge

When I arrived at the swinging bridge, I decided to take a few minutes to cool down, so I started to climb down to the water’s edge and wade in the water. I felt extreme fatigue set in as I slowly started up the massive climb to the Devil’s Thumb aid station. 

 

Swinging Bridge

It was this climb that eventually set the tone for the entire rest of my run. I had run this section quite a few times before, but it didn’t seem any easier this time around. The plan was to “walk like I meant it” and “run where I could”. In my mind, I felt energized as I passed a few runners going up the hill, but my nutrition level was at an absolute standstill the entire time, because when I arrived at Devil’s Thumb, I felt extreme hunger. I took my time as I ate, while I re-shifted my focus to just finish in less than 30 hours. A few miles later, when I reached the Deadwood Cemetery, around mile 49, my overall time was just about 13 hours. Given my current pace, I wondered if I could even make it to Michigan Bluff before dark. It didn't look good, but I knew I had a headlamp in my drop bag, so I felt reasonably safe. I managed to get through El Dorado Creek and the climb up to Michigan Bluff with no apparent issues.

Michigan Bluff

Also, I had hoped to meet another one of my crew members at the aid station, but when I arrived, there was no one there to greet me. I did however, run into Jill, who had said Katie was close to the cutoff time at Devil’s Thumb, but still doing fine. I managed to find a chair to relax in and change shirts, and then I gave my drop bag to Jill and proceeded to retrieve my headlamp. I then headed off to the Foresthill aid station, where I planned to pick up Juan, meet up with my crew once again, and hopefully see some family. By this time, my overall pace had decreased by about a minute slower than what I had hoped for.

It was quite the struggle for me as I descended into Volcano Canyon in the dark, something that I hadn’t planned on. However, I managed to get through it. I carefully crossed the creek and made my way up the trail, as other pacers made their way down. As I closed in on the metal gate that was located just before Bath Road, I shined my light to an ominous figure who was standing on the right side of the gate. I noticed that this person had the same race number as I did. It was Juan! I couldn't believe it. I was so surprised to see that he had come all the way down the road to greet me. He asked me how I felt and I told him that I never expected to come into Foresthill this late at night. We slowly made our way up Bath Road and finally arrived at Foresthill just before 10:00 pm, about 20 seconds slower than the last pace.
 

It was quite hectic, when I arrived, as I made my way to the food table, not even knowing who was there to greet me, if anybody at all. As I fueled up, I did recognize some of the volunteers that I knew, like Michael and Eric. A few minutes later, Eric came right up to me and immediately asked me how I had felt. It was an incredible surprise. Juan told me that Roland, Laura, Michael and Scott were just outside of the aid station to meet me. After I refueled and hydrated, I made my way beyond the exit and to meet up with the rest of my crew. I also saw some other running friends of mine, Enrique and Karla, who came there for support. I was so appreciative of that.

I had also hoped to see a few family members here, as well, but apparently no one showed up. After a few cups of chicken broth, I quickly changed socks and both Juan and I were on our way to the night time section of the course.

For the next 4 miles, Juan and I discussed upcoming races, like the Tahoe Rim Trail and the Ruby Mountain Relay and the plan for the rest of my run. I knew the next 16 mile section down to the river crossing would be tough, due to the fact that it was so late at night. We arrived at Dardanelles (Cal 1) in pretty good shape, but some issues with chafing slowed me down even more. Nevertheless, I continued to push forward. We arrived at Peachstone (Cal 2) just before 1:00 am, just under a 17:00 minute pace. He told me to quickly get what I needed and be ready to get out, a great asset of a pacer. When we made it to the "6 minute hill" climb, I started to calculate in my head what pace I needed to get over the next 27 miles in order to finish within the 30 hour cutoff. After the climb, the long downhill stretch to Ford’s Bar (Cal 3) felt like it was just what I needed to re-energize my mental state. Soon after I left the aid station, I had noticed there was a sign that indicated that I was about an hour ahead of the 30 hour cutoff time. I was glad that we had made it this far, because I knew the last stretch down to the river crossing was a fairly flat section.

We finally arrived at the river crossing at around 3:30 am, about a 17:17 minute per mile pace. My anxiety was at an all time high. I saw Roland and Laura at the river, but to my unexpected surprise, I also saw Allison (the daughter of Michael, who was on my crew) and another friend, Tony. I felt so disappointed in myself for having run so slow up until this point in the race, but I was also so appreciative of the support that I had so early in the morning. It was a great feeling. Juan and I quickly fueled up and were on our way across the river. The drop bags were on the other side, so I knew I would have another short break before I had to tackle the climb up to Green Gate.

For the next 2 miles, I maintained a solid pace, with both short jogs and steady hiking. Juan and I arrived at the top of the climb around 4:15 am. I felt better about my ability to cover the last 20 miles and with over 6 ½ hours left, but I really hoped to reach Auburn Lake Trails at mile 85 before dawn, but I unfortunately fell just a few miles short. We reached the aid station at ALT around 6:15 am, about a 17:46 minute per mile pace, which really had me more worried than ever before, since it closed in on the overall cutoff pace of 18 minutes per mile. Throughout the entire night, I thought that I was going to run out of time, but Juan just kept me going through the night by the motivating words of “keep it up, Roberto, you’re doing great”. I was mentally hurting inside, but I know those few words were all I needed to hear. The countdown to the finish was about to begin.

As we closed in on Brown’s Bar at mile 90, I could hear the beat of the music, a long-standing tradition of this aid station. After only a few minutes, we were on our way to the highway crossing. We arrived at the Highway 49 aid station at mile 93.5 just before 9:00 am. As I ran through the aid station, I looked off to my right and saw John and Jill once more, anxiously awaiting their daughter Katie to arrive. They enthusiastically cheered me on while I passed, which was a wonderful surprise. I quickly grabbed some hydration then headed up the trail, while Juan stayed back to re-fuel himself. A few moments later, Juan caught up to me and said that he had seen Roland, but in my rush through the aid station however, I hadn’t noticed.

I had less than 7 miles left on the course and more than 2 hours left on the clock, so I knew I could make it, if I just kept moving forward. I also had the thought of who would be there to see me finish and given the unexpected reality that I would finish within that last "magical hour", I thought for sure that somebody from my family would be there. Juan and I arrived at No Hands Bridge and mile 97 just before 10:00 am.

No Hands Bridge

I had a little more than an hour left on the clock and 3 miles to go in the race. I needed to keep moving. My nervousness was intense, for I knew there were still a few more hills to conquer before we would make it to Robie Point and the final stretch of the race.

As we left No Hands Bridge, the course became fairly flat, as it continued along the river for a stretch before it started to ascend the last dirt hill into Robie Point. 

Robie Point

As Juan and I ran through the gate and onto the road, Roland had run down the road to greet me. It was great to see him again and hear the cheers from the few spectators who had lined the road.

Somewhere around Mile 99

Before I knew it, I had made it to the white bridge on top of the last hill, and the last turn that led down the road and onto the track. 

As I approached the stadium, I recognized a well known face in the Western States community, that of Andy Jones-Wilkins, cheering me on. It was great to see someone like that towards the end of the run. When I entered the track, my energy level rose. I knew I had done it. 

As I approached the finish, I heard my friend Jason, yell “way to bring it in” or something to that effect. I crossed the finish line with less than 20 minutes to spare. It wasn’t pretty, but I did it. I had that buckle.

After I had left the finish line area, I headed toward the medical tent to finally relax and cool down. Then I walked around to see who I would recognize and had noticed that Scott and Laura, from my crew, had made it there to see my finish.

I also met up with some other Reno folks and thanked them for being out here. A few minutes later, as I relaxed by the small swimming pool full of ice cold water, another friend of mine, Dalius, came up and congratulated me on my finish. That was another unexpected surprise, which I sure appreciated. About 15 minutes later, Katie had finally entered the track and finished with less than 4 minutes on the clock. She had become the youngest female finisher in the history of the race.

Also, during this whole time, I had looked for some family members to see if they had made it, but unfortunately, that didn’t happen. I really would’ve liked some family to have been there to see my finish, but no one did. Now, nearly a year after that race, it still hurts to think about those three words, no one did. However, I’m not going to let that get me down. I just have to hold my head up high and appreciate the running friends I did see along the course and at the finish area and to also take satisfaction in the fact that I did accomplish what I had set out to do for myself. I wasn’t the fastest horse in the stampede, but I finished. I finished.  

So, for the next hour and a half or so, I decided to just relax on the infield grass and patiently await the awards ceremony to start at around 12:30 pm. The ceremony began by the introduction of the overall winners and presentation of the cougar trophies, and then the buckles were awarded in blocks of finish times. As I waited for my block of time to be announced, I almost fell asleep as I sat in a chair behind the award tables. Then my time was finally here. Each finisher was called up one at a time to receive their buckle. When my name was called, it was one of the most exciting experiences to happen in my ultra career. I walked away knowing that I had accomplished something incredible. Even though I had finished 3 100-mile races previously, this one was the most special, given the history of the race and the excitement that surrounded it. I will be forever grateful for the people I was able to train with and who enjoyed this journey with me.
 

 

 

A few days before the Western States Endurance Run....

In 3 short days, I'll be embarking on an adventure of a lifetime, that as an entrant in the world's oldest and most prestigious trail run, the Western States 100. For me, it's been quite a journey to get here.

It was back in the early 90's, when I had just started running ultra races and first heard of Western States. I was a member of the Striders running club and had volunteered as a pacer for 2 years at the Foresthill Aid Station. The 1st year, I paced one runner to the Rucky Chucky river crossing before my runner decided to drop, and the next year, I paced another runner to within a mile of the finish when the overall cutoff time expired.

I didn't return to experience the event until 2011, when I went down with a friend of mine to support a runner from Ballwin, Missouri named Chad, who finished in less than 20 hours. This was the first year that I had placed my name into the raffle drawing, held twice a year and one of the several ways of getting into the race. My name wasn't selected.

The next year, I went down to support some local running friends of mine, Juan, Brandon, Dalius and John, who were all entered in that year's run. I was fortunate enough to see them as they passed through the aid stations of Michigan Bluff and Foresthill, and again at the finish line in Auburn. This was the 1st year that I had qualified to enter 1 ticket into the lottery drawing, held each year in early December at the Auburn High School Auditorium. My name wasn't selected.

Two years ago, I returned again, this time as a volunteer/pacer at Foresthill. I arrived at the aid station around noon to help setup. After I greeted and assisted other runners, I was eventually paired up with a young pony named Chris Mottola from Bozeman, Montana. I paced him throughout the night and into the next morning and we finished the run in just a little over 26 hours. That year, I had qualified a second time to enter my name into the lottery, this time I had 2 tickets in the drawing. However, I had also entered my name into the Striders running club drawing, which determined who would represent the Foresthill Aid Station in the run. My name wasn't selected in either one. 

Last year, I volunteered again to help setup and greet the runners coming through at Foresthill. Several hours later, I made my way over to the finish line area in Auburn to support some local running friends of mine, JB, Andy and Scott, who were all entered in the run. I had also qualified again to enter my name into the lottery, but with changes to the lottery process, this time I had 4 tickets in the drawing. I had also entered my name, once again, into the Striders drawing for a second year. The Striders drawing was to be held one week before the race lottery, so I thought I had a fairly good change of getting in. 

On the morning of Saturday, November 29th, 2014, the Strider running group met up at the Michael D Thompson trailhead for their morning run, potluck and Western States drawing. I felt pretty nervous as the run finished up and the potluck got under way. I had heard there were 3 people in the drawing, so I thought having a 33% chance of being selected wasn't too bad. The time of the drawing finally arrived and to my surprise, my name was selected. Deep inside, I felt unbelievable excitement, knowing that in 7 short months, that I could actually be toeing the line at the most prestigious 100 mile trail run in the country. To this day, I still can't express how honored and privileged I am to have been chosen to represent such an incredible and inspriing group of local runners. 

The next weekend, I drove down to the lottery in Auburn. I knew quite a few familiar names in the drawing and was anxiously awaiting for their tickets to be drawn. By the time the lottery had finished up, the Reno-Tahoe area was well represented, with my running friends, Jackie, Jill, Derek, Katie and Darren being selected to run. Also, another friend, Mike had also been selected. My first thought then was that this year's run is shaping up to become one of the most exciting for the local ultra running community in recent memory. 

Now, here we are in the 4th week of June, 2015. My time has finally come. I may not be the fastest horse in the stampede, but I hope some of you can come out and enjoy this life-changing journey with me.

I wish the best of luck to all our local runners and whether you're out there volunteering, crewing, or supporting a runner in this year's run, go out and make this one of the most epic weekends of your lives. Happy Trails.

"The best gift you can ever give a runner is being there at the finish line."

My Day in Boston

Monday, April 16th, 1990. The Boston Marathon.


I was here in Boston, Massachusetts, set to run one of the most prestigious running events in the country.

I was only 19. This is my story...


The morning of April 16th, the skies were clear and had the makings of near-perfect running conditions. From my 6th floor window at the Back Bay Hilton, a few blocks from the finish, I could see some early-morning participants warming up.

By 8:30 am, many official marathon buses, that were taking runners to the start, had lined up about a half-mile from the hotel. A few minutes later, I boarded. As the buses were making their way to the town of Hopkinton, the start of the race, I began scanning the Massachusetts landscape. I felt excited and kept saying to myself, "I can't believe that I am actually here. This is awesome!"

Two hours later, the buses arrived in Hopkinton. I slowly disembarked. Tension filled the air while I proceeded towards Hopkinton's gymnasium, about a half-mile from the starting line. Inside the gym, thousands of runners were anxiously awaiting the start of the race at noon. I felt nervous and completely lost among many unknown faces. Outside, lines to the sani-huts had grown immensely.

At 11:15, I decided to join a few runners who were making their way to the starting line. When I arrived, race officials were assisting the runners in finding their place in line, according to their race number,
for the start of the race (I felt like a sardine!). As I looked up, I could see a helicopter hovering overhead. The intensity of the moment caused chills to literally crawl up my spine.


At 12:00 noon, I heard the starting gun. The race had begun. The moment was immense, just spectacular. I felt electrified as the crowds cheered when the runners started to move. Just to be here was an absolute, thrilling experience. It took about 4 minutes to the reach the actual starting line. It was a green and white sign painted on the street which read, "Start BAA (Boston Athletic Association) Boston Marathon."

I felt pretty good at the beginning of the race. I reached the first mile in 8 minutes and 35 seconds, a relatively slow starting pace for me, caused mainly by the number of runners in the race. The first few miles of the race were hardly a problem.

By mile 6, the runners had slowly dissipated, which allowed me to run at a faster pace than I had started with. Cups were littering the streets as I made my way past the 10-mile marker. The crowds continued to cheer on the runners.

The excitement of the race increased as I approached the half-way point. Looking at my stopwatch, I could see it read around 1:29, which would put my overall time at just under 3 hours, if I had kept the pace. That was my goal. My spirits rose as I passed the half-way point and the marathon's most loyal fans, the girls of Wellesley College (I would've stopped to visit, but I wanted to finish the race).

A little past the 14-mile marker, I overheard two runners behind me describing how much they hated this race, which made me chuckle a bit. From here on, I just wanted to take each mile one at a time.

After mile 15, however, the tragic events of the day began.

Over the next few miles, my body slowly overpowered my mind. My mind wanted to finish the race, but my body didn't. I was beginning to fall into a state where I wasn't aware of what was going on around me, yet I still had a sense of direction. All I could remember was running to either side of the road desperately seeking fluids. My physiology was on the verge of destruction. I felt terrified. Ironically, I was only a few miles from infamous Heartbreak Hill, which from the stories I've heard, either makes you or breaks you. I never got the chance to see it.

About a mile later, I passed the 30 kilometer marker, the last one I would remember. My stopwatch read around 2:23. Approaching a slight incline on route, I stopped for the last time. When a fellow runner asked me if I was okay, I apparently collapsed and went unconscious, but I don't remember.

I woke up in the intensive care unit of Newton-Wellesley Hospital. According to the clock on the wall, the time was almost 4:30 in the afternoon. The doctors said that my internal body temperature was 106, which is one degree shy of potential "brain damage".

I remained in the hospital overnight for treatment and observation. Inside, I felt so angry because all I wanted to do was to finish the race and receive a finisher's medallion. It was the most frightening experience I've ever had.

To this day, every time I go out for a run, I think of what happened to me at Boston and how lucky I am to still be here and running again.

My memories of that day will always be with me. However, I will never forget the excitement of the start and the people of Boston who supported the race and the runners. Putting all of the behind me now, I plan to the run the 1991 Boston Marathon on April 15th.

I did and finished in a self-timed 2:51:53, a personal record.

TRT 100 Race Report – July 21-22, 2012

Race Day - Saturday, July 21, 2012 

The morning of the race began with a very early wake-up call at 2:30 in the morning. I had set the alarm the night before, but as usual woke up before it went off. Maybe a little too excited I guess. I got ready by double-checking what I would bring to the start, except for my drop bags, which I had dropped off the previous day at packet pickup in Carson City. I wanted to leave by 3:00am in order to have plenty of time to get to the start of the race. My mom was gracious enough to give me a ride to the start and we arrived a little after 4:00 in the morning at Spooner Lake State Park. I soon met up with some other runners that I knew who were also running, either in my race or the other 2 events that were to take place, a 50-mile and 50 kilometer, both starting at 6:00am. 

Thinking that it would be cooler than it really was, I had brought along a large, plastic trash bag to keep me warm just in case. Before the start, I had tucked away a 25 hour pace chart into one of the pockets of my water bottles just to see if I could maintain this pace or at least have a worthy goal to shoot for, which at the time, I thought was rather attainable. Then it was time. It was time to begin the journey that I've been training for during the last 6 months. As the 5:00 am start time crept ever so closer and the starting group of about 150 runners began to assemble, I thought to myself, this is going to be a very long day, but unbeknownst to me, I didn't realize just how long. Finally, one of the race directors told us, that a tree, of all things, was the “official start line” and began the countdown to the start of the race.

I started out fairly steady as the course took the runners up the North Canyon Road, onto the Marlette Lake trail, to the east side of the lake, up a rather short, but steep climb back onto the Tahoe Rim Trail and over to the first aid station at mile 6. I arrived at the Tunnel Creek aid station at around mile 11, which I would run through 6 times throughout the day, in a time of 2 hours and 25 minutes. The Tunnel Creek aid station was also the first aid station where tracking times were being recorded. Then it was off for the inevitable Red House Loop, a 6.3 mile “Taste of Hell”, as the TRT Endurance Run had called it on its website. During previous training runs on this loop, I remember this part of the course as just a muddy little mess, with willows overgrowing the trail at times, needing to hop over springs and other creek crossings, along with the challenge of a short, rocky and rather steep little uphill. So, as I was approached the Red House aid station around mile 14.3, I started to see what looked like several hand made signs along the side of the trail, which I began to realize were indications that the upcoming aid station was literally a circus with one of the volunteers dressed up as a clown assisting the runners as they came through. I knew from reading about last years run, that this event had featured several themed aid stations in the past, so I wasn’t exactly sure what to except this year, but running through the Red House this early in the race made this section just that much more bearable to get through.

As I made my way back up the hill back towards Tunnel Creek, I was still maintaining my goal pace, entering the aid station in 3 hours and 50 minutes. 

I didn't stay long before the course turned onto the actual Tahoe Rim trail itself and north towards the Mt Rose Meadows trail head. After veering onto the Incline Creek trail, where I knew I could make up some time, I still kept up a relatively steady pace as it was only around 4 miles of a gradual, but at times, steep downhill into the next aid station at Diamond Peak. I also learned at this point in the race that sometimes running downhill is just as tough as running uphill, especially after 25 miles.

  

Overall, I felt great for the first 30 miles of the course, as I rolled into the aid station at Diamond Peak in around 6 hours and 27 minutes, only about a ½ hour slower than what my pace chart had indicated. It was here that I was also looked forward to meeting up with a co-worker of mine, Scott Cozad and a former classmate and member of my high school cross-country team, Jeff Lifur, who had traveled all the way from San Francisco, and his dad, who I invited there to watch and cheer me on.

The Diamond Peak aid station was also the first weigh-in on the course, so I stopped to weigh-in and surprisingly I was only down about 5 pounds, but apparently down enough to have the weigh-in volunteer ask me how I felt and to keep hydrating. 

After about 10 to 12 minutes of fueling up with G2 energy drinks, Shot-Blok energy gels and other aid station fare, I was on my way up the 2 mile section of the course that I kept dreading about, not so much at this point in the run, but how it would feel climbing this monster at around 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning the second time around. I knew the hill would be slow, so I just took it easy and walked the entire way.

Soon after I started up the hill, I just happened to run into a friend of mine who had run this course last year, Brandon Dey, who was running downhill. He immediately recognized me and turned around to begin walking  with me and keep me company. We ended up walking together until about half way up to the beginning of a chairlift, where he left me to continue on my way. It was sure great to see somebody like Brandon on this section of the course, though it wasn't until later that I heard the rumor that he ended up running this hill several times throughout the day assisting other runners or maybe it was just for a great workout. After I reached the top in around 53 minutes, I knew I could pick up the pace as the course turned back onto the trail and more level terrain.

I felt pretty good as I made my way through the next 2 aid stations, Tunnel Creek at mile 35.5 and Hobart  at around mile 40, and then it was on to a much more exposed area of the course around Snow Valley Peak, the highest point on the course. I had hiked this section before, so I was pretty familiar with this section of trail, but with such long stretches of no shade and the warmest part of the day still yet to come, I knew that the last 7-8 miles before the 50-mile checkpoint would eventually slow me down even more. After I realized that I would be about hour and a half slower than my predicted pace, I was just hoping that somebody that I knew would be at the 50-mile checkpoint to keep me motivated and energized. In fact, they were, my friend Jeff and his dad, who were at Diamond Peak the first time around at around mile 30 to cheer me on, had waited around for more than an hour to greet me for the second time that day. After a much need break at the half way point, I took off to begin the second half of the course while Jeff and his dad took off back to Reno. It’s always good to know that there are people out there like Jeff and his dad who would wait around that long for somebody like me.

My time through 50 miles was 12 hours and 42 minutes, not what I had hoped for, but nonetheless, respectable. My goal at this point in the run had dramatically shifted from becoming a 25-26 hour finish time to hopefully under a 30 hour finish time, which had inevitably brought on another monkey in the wrench to my plans this day, and that was, the constant changing of time and the inevitable onset of sundown. I had every intention on getting to the halfway point in less than 12 hours, which I thought would leave me plenty of time to get to Tunnel Creek at mile 61 and my next drop bag. However now, I realized I probably wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer when I prepared my drop bags the previous night; I had inadvertently put both my flashlight and headlamp in the same bag at the Tunnel Creek.

After leaving the 50 mile checkpoint, I estimated that I would need around 3 hours to get to the Tunnel Creek aid station, but at the pace I was maintaining, along with another short, but steep, climb uphill to Hobart and beyond still yet to come, I knew that it would take something short of a miracle to make it to Tunnel Creek before dark. I ran nervously through the intermittent shadows of the trees as I made my way to the 56-mile mark at the Hobart aid station. I made my way through the aid station as the sun suddenly dropped below Marlette Peak and the west shore of Lake Tahoe. From here on and for the next 6 miles, I knew I would be running in the dusk and eventually darkness of the Sierras. As I passed the turnoff to Christopher’s Loop and Sand Harbor overlook, I started to see other headlights begin to appear from behind me. I thought to myself, if I could only stay ahead of them for a while, I just might be all right, but it was getting dark just too fast. Fortunately for me, about ½ down the switchbacks before the Twin Lakes area at around mile 60, a female runner started to pass me and as luck would have it, just happen to have an extra headlamp for me to borrow, after I had told her that mine was in my drop bag just a few miles ahead. I also knew that my pacer for the last 20 miles of the race, Mike Holmes, would be waiting for me as well, as he had volunteered throughout most of the day and was anxiously awaiting my arrival.

I finally arrived at the Tunnel Creek aid station at about 10:30pm, obviously slower now than what I wanted to be, due to my time into the 50-mile checkpoint and the last few miles running in the dark. After I met up with the pace Mike, re-fueled and prepared for the long night ahead, I started down the inevitable Red House Loop for the second time, not knowing that this time, I would face the toughest mental challenge of my life. As I descended into the abyss of darkness, I had noticed that several runners coming back up the hill were not by themselves, which looking back now probably would have been a pretty good idea at that point in the race. I remember telling my safety runner Mike, back at Tunnel Creek that I thought I would have no problems just running when I could and walking throughout the night, until I would meet up with him again 19 miles later over at Diamond Peak. However, I just didn’t realize what I would be facing over the next few miles.

As I was approached the Red House aid station a little more than half way through the loop, everything just seemed to literally break down. I just couldn’t run for more than 2 minutes at a time. Physically speaking, I felt okay, with no muscle pain or feet related problems to speak of, but mentally I was just exhausted and it was wearing me out.

As a side note though, the Red House aid station, as described earlier was probably the most fun aid station to pass through, not only to see a volunteer dressed up as a clown the first time around, but the same volunteer still dressed up as a clown, the second time around as well. However, this time, given my extremely tired physical condition, I thought I had walked into a bad nightmare, running into a clown in the middle of the night. As I arrived at the aid station, I immediately found a chair where I promptly sat. So there I was, in a chair in the middle of the night at mile 64.4. It was here where I contemplated to myself whether or not I should really go on. I seriously considered of dropping out of the race, but only if I could make it back to Tunnel Creek. I knew this wasn’t the ideal place to drop out, so somehow, someway I had to find the courage to keep going. After a few minutes, I finally made my way out of the Red House aid station. As I continued along the trail, I started to really check the time more than ever before, almost to the point of paranoia. Several thoughts had run through my head like, “What’s my overall pace? How many steps did I take the last time I ran? Am I going to make the cut-off times? Was that really a clown I just saw in the middle of the night?”

After I ascended the hill at the end of the Red House Loop, I finally made it into the Tunnel Creek aid station at around 1:30 in the morning. I immediately went into the medical tent desperately trying to find a place to sit down, or rather a place to lie down, but after seeing that all the army cots were taken by other runners, I decided to just plant myself on a hard plastic chair just outside the tent. A friend and rather local legend in Reno’s ultra-running community, John Trent, who I’ve known for more than 18 years, came over to me to see if he could help, but all I could tell him was I just didn’t know if I could go on, given that fact that I still had more than 33 miles to go and was just physically and mentally exhausted. However, I knew from reading the pre-race instructions that if you were to drop at a remote aid station such as Tunnel Creek that it would probably be hours before you got back to either Diamond Peak or Spooner Summit. I really didn’t want to do that, but I just didn’t know how I could make another 13 miles in the next 6 hours before the Diamond Peak cut-off. After a few minutes of resting outside the tent, I went inside to see if sitting on one of the army cots would make any difference. As I observed the aid station volunteers coming in and out of the medical tent tending to other runners, my immediate thought was, maybe I’m not the worst off after all, maybe there is someway that I can get through this, because deep down I knew after all of my training that I could find the strength to keep going, but the question was how? Mentally speaking, I had hit rock bottom. I thought I was done, until…. another local runner, that I knew, Jenny Capel walked through those canvas doors. Not only did she help me find the strength to carry on, but even offered to run with me for the first couple of miles. This mental boost was exactly what I needed. After I hydrated and re-fueled with probably some of the best quesadillas that an aid station could ever have, we were off and running. Thanks to her, I was able to find my pace again, and so for the next couple of miles, we talked a lot about my race up until that point, how I felt through 69 miles and how I was going to get through the next 11. We made it up to a ridge, which overlooked Washoe Valley to the east, and it was here she decided to turnaround and leave me and head back to Tunnel Creek. She wished me good luck and I was quickly on my way. However, I knew that I still had a long way to go. I arrived at the Bull Wheel aid station, about 3 miles later, at around 2:30 in the morning and noticed the 3 or 4 volunteers, who were probably the same ones there during the daytime, were all asleep inside the pop-up shelter. After I briefly stopped to re-fuel, I continued on my way and before I knew it I was running solo under the starlit sky and never saw a single runner again until I got to Diamond Peak a few hours later. So, for the next 9 miles, which took me around a little more than 3 hours to get through, I managed to average less than 18-minute miles. 

I eventually reached the bottom of the Incline Creek Trail, just as the sun was coming up, and turned onto the paved road leading to the Diamond Peak lodge. Fortunately for me, I had made the cut-off by more than 2 hours, which I didn’t think was possible just 6 short hours ago. I finally met up with my safety runner, Mike, who was already set to run at night, had I arrived much earlier in the morning.

I weighed in again and found a seat inside the lodge. I changed socks, downed some water and prepared myself to tackle the Diamond Peak ski hill once again. After a short time, Mike and I were checked out of the aid station and just like I had done before, I ended up walking the entire way up to the top of the hill, but this time around, only a few minutes slower than I had ran the first time. 

Even though this section is probably the toughest on the course, it possesses some of the most spectacular views of the Lake Tahoe basin. As we ascended, Mike promptly took pictures like a crazed paparazzi, and with good reason, too. 

Once we were over the top and back into the Bull Wheel aid station, I felt my goal of finishing getting even closer. Now I was down to around 18 miles left to go. I said to Mike, as we were climbing the hill, “Just get me to the finish” and he did just that. Before long, we were back at the Tunnel Creek aid station at mile 85.5, where I experienced the most emotional moments for me during the entire race. 

As I approached the aid station, I saw Jill (Trent), John’s wife, yelling out from behind a giant boulder, “Is that you, Robert?” and before I knew it, I was greeted with applause from several of the volunteers still there hours later waiting for my return. Now with only 15 miles to go, I had the hardest part behind me, but I still knew I had more than 6 hours left to go. 

My pacer Mike and I continued our way up the switchbacks just beyond the Twin Lakes area and then past the Christopher’s Loop turnoff and into a wide open area of the course where the runners are treated with the most incredible views of both Marlette Lake and Lake Tahoe. Just as we broke out of the trees, we spotted our first sighting of wildlife; a deer had appeared just behind a pine tree among the sagebrush. Again, Mike went to work with his camera. It was not long after that, we passed the turn to the Marlette Campground and made our way around the west side of Marlette Peak and into the Hobart aid station at mile 90. I was down to just 10 more miles left to go. Again, we didn’t stay long and we both continued on our way to the finish. Although with a little more than 3 miles until the next aid station at Snow Valley Peak and mile 93.3, we decided to pretty much walk this section of the course. Even at this moment, I was still more vigilant than ever of the 35-hour cut-off time, even though I was more than an hour ahead of schedule. After we came into Snow Valley Peak aid station around 11:30 in the morning, I knew now that we would be facing another ultra-running hazard and that was running in the heat, especially on this part of the course. We eventually reached the trees and came upon a trail junction and a wooden sign indicating that the Spooner Summit trailhead was now just 4 miles away. After we passed a few hikers and survived the brutal afternoon heat on the trail, we finally arrived at the Spooner Summit aid station and mile 98.9. Advertised as just a water stop, Spooner Summit consisted of only a couple of 5-gallon Gatorade jugs and a couple of tables. So, as Mike started to take more time than what I really wanted to take, I made my way on down the trail to begin the final descent to the finish. As I looked back, I could see that Mike was quickly catching up to me and when he did we both began to hear the distant cheers at the finish for runners who were already making their way to the end. We soon made our way around the shores of Spooner Lake and onto the last boardwalk before the final dash to the finish. It was at this moment, I had thought to myself after all that’s said and done, who would, if anybody would be waiting for me to see me finish. I had told my brother, at least, to come with a change of clothes, but that was when I thought I would finish around 6:00-7:00 in the morning, so I just wasn’t sure who would be there to see me finish at this time in the afternoon. I had told so many friends and relatives about this pretty significant event in my life, but all I could do was just wait and see. Soon after Mike and I crossed the boardwalk, we continued up the trail and veered to the right onto a straighter part of the course and towards the last short section of trail before the finish. I knew I wanted to finish with style, so I started to jog once we hit the turn. I passed a small grandstand that was set up a few feet from the end and crossed into the tent with a finishing time of 33:14:44. I had finally finished my 1^st 100-mile endurance run!

I did see my brother, who tracked me throughout the day and did remember my bag of clothes, but unfortunately no one else. I felt rather disappointed. I immediately sat down on a chair inside the tent along side with a few other runners who had just finished when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I was enthusiastically greeted by Jenny Capel, who just happened to be at the finish when I came through and literally brought me back to life back at Tunnel Creek. I would say that seeing her again, especially at the finish, after all that I had went through, was probably the second most emotional moment of my journey, behind only mile 85. 

After a few minutes inside the finishing tent, I started to make my way up the road to the burrito bar and drop bag area. I took advantage of the makeshift shower and changed clothes, then said goodbye to my pacer Mike who was on his way back to Diamond Peak to retrieve his vehicle. The awards ceremony was scheduled for 4:00pm, so I figured my brother and I might as well just hang around until then. I tried to eat a chicken filled tortilla from the burrito bar, but my digestive system just wasn’t into it. It was just about 3:45pm in the afternoon, when I asked one of the race directors if the runners could get their buckles early, and he said they could. So, I told him my race number, and noticed what turned out to be a small printing press near the finish area where they were etching the times and the event year into this years finisher’s buckles. I always wondered how they did that and boy, was it one of the coolest finisher’s medals I had ever seen. Even though my time wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for this day, I can now say I am forever a 100-mile finisher.