I just finished my first hundred this weekend at the San Diego 100. Now I get it: 50 miles is a long race; 100 miles is an adventure
This was going to be an abridged report, but the more I wrote the more it all came back. It's more a chronology than a report, but here you go:
I probably went out a little aggressively, but not too bad. I came into Meadows (7.4 miles) at 8:20 AM (start was 7:00). I normally hit a brief wall about 80 minutes in, and this was no exception, but I couldn't shake it and it kept getting worse and worse. I was eating and drinking but I felt like I just couldn't get any energy to my muscles, and it felt like there was a brick in my stomach. I had really slowed down by Red Tail (13.8).
By mile 15 I was doing the death march. I would have dropped at Todd's (18.6) except that I was worried about the logistics of getting back to my crew and figured I could march to Penny, so I did. In the miles before Penny (23.6) I felt worse than I've ever felt in any run ever, and I swore to myself that I would not let my crew talk me in to continuing. Thankfully my crew is more stubborn than I gave them credit for.
They and the Penny Pines aid station staff, including one wonderful nurse, convinced me to waylay my decision for a bit, sit down, have some food, water. I hit the can a few times, they forced me to stuff down the bananas. Ultimately it was the motivating words of my wife and of the nurse, and the obstinance of my dad, who gave me the strength to keep going. I told my crew that I loved them and I hated them, and I departed.
I was feeling so much better, and happy to be on the section of course that I had most looked forward to (the long descent to and subsequent climb out of Pine Creek. The descent was good and uneventful. I had gotten passed by so many people during my death march that I was passing a lot on the way down.
The loop at Pine Creek (31.3 to 36) was hot. I drank 70 ounces of water in less than 4 miles.
Back at Pine creek one of the aid staff was able to help me with my blisters, which I was thankful for. But I also realized that I was getting close to cutoff times. I couldn't believe it... I was expecting a 26 hour finish, and I had lost so much time in the first 23 miles that I was racing against cutoffs. That said, since I had come within a hair of dropping before I considered everything else as gravy, so I said I would just keep going until I got cut.
The aid crew told me to get moving up the climb, so I did. That's when I encountered the rattlesnake. It was stretched across the pavement, smelling the air (me) and left only about two feet on either side of the road to pass (and it was not feasible to take a detour around). I chose the rattle end to go around, and it didn't seem like the snake was poised in any position to be able to suddenly strike at me (but seriously, what do I know about that sort of thing?)
I was allowed to pass without incident.
I killed the climb up to Pioneer. Everyone says that this is the hardest part of the run, but in this race I learned that the longer the climb is, the stronger I get. When I got to Pioneer (44.1) I told my crew it was go time and I wanted to be out of there quick. They delivered.
It got dark on the way to Sunrise (51.3), and at some point I got lost. I ended up on a dirt two-track between Sunrise Hwy and the trail. I have no idea how I got there, and even when I retraced the trail on the way back the next day, I still don't get it. Once I realized I was lost I started backtracking. Someone from the race staff was driving down Sunrise Hwy and saw my headlamp going the wrong way. He stopped and asked what the heck I was doing and I tried to explain it to him over the wind. He gave me the strange advice to, instead of backtracking, bushwack away from the highway to the trail. I thought it was strange because that direction pretty quickly turns into a steep descent down to the desert, but I took it anyway and it worked. I picked up the trail and moved on, but I was demoralized at having gotten lost.
At Sunrise I spent 15 minutes or so under a blanket drinking soup. I took some advil, and my first pacer (my friend Ben) and I got going. We moved at a pretty good clip along the flats to Stonewall (58.9), arriving about one hour before the cutoff. The climb over the mountain to Paso was hard, but the closer we got to the top the stronger I felt. Still, we arrived at Paso (64.2) with only 30 minutes to spare (it was 2:00 AM)
I picked up my second pacer at Paso (my dad), and we started the next section in the deepest part of the night. I'm so glad I had my dad for this section, as he is an experienced backpacker. For a long stretch the trail was not well defined, we were trudging through what seemed like marshes, I was exhausted. I'm pretty sure I would have gotten lost on my own on that leg. In any case the whole thing was slow. I was pretty sure we had missed the cutoff at Sweetwater (72.3) but to my surprise we made it by nine minutes (it was 4:51 AM).
The climb back to Sunrise (80.3) started out okay but quickly fell apart. I just couldn't shake the sleepiness and the chill, and I think I was paying for the caffeine I had taken during the night to keep going. I was again pretty certain we would miss the cutoff, and I was okay with that. I had given it everything. Then suddenly I felt alive. I kicked it into high gear, and again the farther we got on the climb the stronger I got. By the time we topped out on the flats I was running again, my dad cheering the whole way. We made Sunrise by 10 minutes.
I picked up my third pacer here, my best friend Tim. Tim had been training his ass off for this and he could not have been more fired up to go. And now I was starting to really believe I could finish. All I had to do was maintain a 20 minute/mile pace for the next 20 miles, which is a moderate power-walk. It was all pretty predictable from there (albeit stressful, flirting with the clock like that). The only mistake was that Tim convinced me to run into Pioneer (87.5), which was unnecessary and demoralizing because it sapped my energy. But I recovered, especially with Tim's great support.
We made Pioneer by 15 minutes. We made Penny (91.5) by 15 minutes, and I got to see the nurse again who helped me back at mile 23 (68 miles ago!), which really boosted my spirits.
We made Rat Hole (96.2) by 30 minutes. And made the finish by just 9 minutes. I crossed the line second to last!
I've never been so overwhelmed to be done with something. I never expected to be so happy with such a late finish. I earned that buckle.
I'm fiercely independent, and I've never really used a crew before. I absolutely would have failed without them... that's a really touching experience for me.
Whoever the nurse was who helped me at Penny, I heard your encouraging words in my head throughout the entire race, Thank you thank you thank you. [Edit] I found out later that this was Annie Harvey.
And thanks to the race organizers and the ultra community in general: Thank you for the greatest adventure I have ever experienced.
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