Oregon Cascades 100

That time of year came again - when and which 100 do I do this year? Although I've scaled back quite a bit in running the centuries over the years, there is a magnetic pole that always brings me back to wondering "can I still do these?" Despite having run a handful in the past, they only get "easier" because you learn what not to do from the one before. This year, though, I had a burning desire to get back to the Pacific Northwest, and the decision was made far easier when my friend Brad from San Diego was quick to volunteer to crew me. He's an accomplished biker and triathlete himself so it was nice getting a recruit who gets these sports. Next thing I know, I was registered for the Oregon Cascades in Bend, OR - a point to point 100 in the beautiful trails surrounding Bend.

 

Leading up to the race, I did about 3 weeks of 2 a day trail runs. Run an hour before work and then about another hour in the middle of the day. Then I would do a 3-5 hour run on Saturday to cap off the week on my tired legs. Training in upper 80s to low 90s and being swarmed by bugs prepped me well for a worst case scenario in Bend, not to mention the altitude training. For nutrition, I wanted to stick with Tailwind the entire time, which really is sugar and water. I was to become a hummingbird all day on a liquid diet - and not even the good kind of liquid. I packed ziplock bags with what I thought I would need and told Brad to fill them up and switch packs with me when I saw him. I used about 2.5 scoops for each bag, a bit more than I had trained with but I thought you could never get enough calories in these things. 

The weather in Bend was a high of 62, unusually cold for the time of year with lows in the low 40s. Truly great running weather. There was also a little rain the day before so that put some moisture on the ground and made the trails far less dusty than they otherwise would have been. Basically I got pretty lucky with the cards dealt to me. 

Going into the race, I saw the course record was just over 18 hours. As the course has about 10,500 feet of climbing with 11,000 descent, I knew it had potential to be a fast day. Although I verbalized to most I wanted to be around 20 hours, deep down I was hoping and thinking I could go faster if everything went right. There were about 250+ registered for the race, and despite wanting to finish (always the primary goal), I really wanted to see what my legs had in them from all of the training and the two weeks off leading up to it.

When the race started at 6, everyone ran on a road for the first 2-3 miles. As usual, there was a group of poeple who took off immediately. I was probably in 20th at this point in the race, but that didn't really matter to me. I just wanted to find my pace early and stick with a consistent rhythm. I happened to find this girl with bright orange shorts who was going at a perfect pace. I chose to run with her once we got off the first road section that took us to a flat area with lots of manzanitas. About two miles following her, one of her bladders exploded and she was like "oh fudge sickles" or, at least the PG version of what she actually said. As there wasn't much I could do I just said "oh no, I hope you can get that resolved" and kept going. At this point I was a bit alone.

The first 10 miles were pretty smooth, nothing to report. I ran through the first aid station and pressed on to mile 16, the first place I would finish my two bladders full of Tailwind and replace them with two new ones. The first place I would see Brad was 26 miles at Dutchman. I carried a 2 liter pack of water the first 26 miles with the goal of finishing that entire bladder and essentially 4 with Tailwind. This worked pretty well. At this point, this is when a runner from Portland (Colin), orange shorts girl, and "Unknown Unknown" started to run with me. Unknown Unkonwn ended up being Kimberly, the future 2nd place overall runner and first time 100 mile finisher. She said she goes by Uknown as she doesn't believe the website should get the rights to take her name and use it as they want. She is a Director of Analytics with a flair who lives in the Marin Headlands of San Francisco. I was skeptical if her name was even Kimberly after she told me this. It could've been Matilda, Dolores, or Francoise for all I knew. Or a really famous person trying to stay under the radar. Regardless, we all ran together.

I noticed that Kimbelry ran all of the small hills which was really just a hiking pace for me. Having followed her and orange shirts girl for a while, I decided to pass them. Kimberly then said behind me "I hope you don't mind me using you as my guide" as she realized I was hiking as quickly as she was running. This all changed on the downhill though. I pride myself in being a solid downhill runner but Kimberly completely rocked it. She passed me with ease and floated over the trail. I was blown away. She also carried a single water bottle and I have no clue how she sustained herself. This was also the last I saw of Kimberly.

As we pressed on, we eventually got to Dutchman (mile 26). Here, I saw Brad who had my pack ready and we made an exchange. I told Brad who is a very analytical person being a CFO in his day job that I wanted to really stay on top of my nutrition and drink all of the calories and water. He also made sure that everything was ready when I got into the aid station which saved me a ton of time. We exchanged quick pleasantries and I headed out. I did notice and communicated that the 2.5 scoops in all of the plastic bags was too much. I could tell it was a bit chalky tasking and I even burped (in a bad way) that it was a little too overpowering. I requested he remove half a cup for when we see each other moving forward. The next one would be Swampy Lakes at 33.

This section I was only following the orange shorts girl. She continued with the perfect pace. I was following her down this national forest road trail that went down for a while. We saw a couple of people walking, otherewise it was pretty sparse. About halfway on this she turned around and said "are we on the right trail?" Nothing like seeds of confusion and doubt to start clouding the brain. At no point did I think we were, but as soon as she mentioned it then I thought to wonder if in fact we were off trail as we didn't see any orange flags. I said with confidence that it is right and we both kept on, hopeful that it was the right direction. The trail continued to meander until we got into Swampy Lakes. 

Brad again had my pack and we switched again. He lectured me a bit that I wasn't drinking all of my calories. I told him that that was OK as I was using the restroom often on the trail - a rarity for me. I headed out and this is when some of the climbing would occur. I wouldn't see him until Skyline at 48. I pressed on and passed orange shorts girl. I told her "I'm Nick" and she said "I'm Abby." After saying "hi Abby" she quickly corrected me that it was "ddy." I couldn't make out the name (though I thought I heard Addy" but wasn't about to correct myself into a second wrong answer). I pulled a Seinfeld and said "nice to meet you" having no clue what she actually said. I later learned it was Maddy. 

That was the last I saw of her. I presssed on, alone at this point and just going in and out of music. I did about an hour and a half of music and then turned it off for 2 hours and listened to the silence. This was a nice mix up and kept me motivated throughout the day. I go to the midway aid station and changed both of my Tailwind bladders. I moved out and pressed on, just another 5 miles until I saw Brad again. This is when the trail went down, down, down. I eventually caught up to Taylor running downhill. I continued on for another couple of miles and started to run into mountain bikers. Facial expressions speak volumes, and I could tell that they were getting annoyed with all of these trail runners. Unfortunately for them, the signs in the woods clearly show bikes yield to hikers who yield to horses. Why horses who take huge dumps all over the trails and are easily spooked get top priority will always remain a Bermuda Triangle mystery to me. But, they pulled over and I eventually got to Skyline at 48. Brad was again waiting there and had the bags ready. About halfway into the race, I was out of Skyline at 2:02 and finished 48 miles in just over 8 hours. Generally I was feeling great and was super happy with how the body was feeling. I did pop a Tylenol at this point and pressed on.

This is when the highest climb comes at the race. I was looking forward to the 2,000 foot climb as the course was fairly runnable up to this point. This is when I noticed that Taylor and his pacer were tracking me down hard. I didn't think I was going slow but they sure were making me feel that way. They caught up and I learned that they are both locals to Bend. Taylor was really kind and said "you look strong" out here. One observation I had was that Taylor was breathing a lot heavier than I was. I was going on a climb with purpose but I do think his pacer was pushing the pace a little too much and wasn't as aware of where Taylor was at at this point. 

We all pressed on together and it was at this point that they had slowed down quite a bit and I asked to pass them again. We also passed Jaclyn (the eventual 5th place overall and 2nd woman) and her pacer. I was again finding my groove as I continued drinking the Tailwind and marching on. We were at about 6800 feet high at this point and I could feel it was a tad cooler. The wind blew and gave me a slight chill. Nothing major at least. We all pressed on and got to the next aid station at 55.

I changed both bladders and pressed on. It was just another mile or two of slight uphill and then down from there. Taylor and I talked for a bit as his pacer was getting him supplies as he pressed on and he said that my tattoo reminded him of the Legend of Zelda. Of course I had to tell him that Ocarina of Time is still one of my favoritee games to date (not that I'm a gamer). I could tell that Taylor was fading a bit. This was his 3rd 100 but I had a bit more than he in the tank and left him and didn't see him for the rest of the day.

I pressed on to 63 which was an aid station off this national forest road. The landscape had also drastically changed. Now we were in a burnt down area that was totally exposed. I dumped out my remaining Tailwind to restock only to realize that I only had one extra bag of powder in my pack. I totally thought I had 6 but only 5 which means I basically trashed precious liquid and calories on the ground. I panicked slightly at my foolish mistake and the aid station volunteer offered to take some other form of calories, but I said that would trash my stomach and I'd take a risk - a costly mistake as the next aid station was 10 miles away at 73. 

I refilled and headed out. This was on a horse trail that wasn't too technical. At this point the 50 mile runners were on the same course and I was passing a handful of them which was great motivation. I was being a bit more conservative with my liquids as 10 miles was a ways to go. The good news is it was not hot out and my pack was lighter, so I was able to move with purpose. 

It was about halfway on this section that I ran into a lady who's name I regret not getting. It was one of 3 times I stopped to take a picture of the 3 Sisters. This lady pulled over on the side and had the most angelic smile I may have ever seen. She was totally out there loving life and taking in the entire scenery. There was an energy about her that seemed to go beyond normal life. I guess maybe it was being 60+ miles in at this point and being out here together with another person tackling a major physical and mental challenge that made the experience even better. I was glad to see her at the track later in the day, but that certainly picked up my spirits.

I continued on and on and on and on. This section just went forever. Although a lot of it was downhill, I was always getting my hopes up that I was getting close but it never actually came. Then on another descent I noticed that there were some photographers out there getting some really cool pics. One of the Sisters was directly behind me, and it was amazing.

I pressed on and got to the gravel road. I knew this would lead to 73 and the next aid station. I put the foot on the pedal hard at this point and flew into the aid station. I think Brad was pleasantly surprised at how good I felt. He had made friends with Colin's friends and everyone thought I looked pretty strong. I exchanged packs again and told him about my error 10 miles back but thankfully just scraped long enough to get to the aid station without bonking or running into any major issues.

I popped a second Tylenol and headed out. This next section was not my favorite. It was weaving horse trails between roads. The one cool part is there were some really huge and awesome volcanic rocks here that really caught my eye. I was passing some more 50 mile runners, too. As the sun was disappearing, I tripped and fell on a rock. I got pretty lucky in that I didn't land on anything hard. That was a relief! I pressed on, continued drinking my Tailwind and got to the aid station.

I restocked both bladders, turned on my headlamp, and headed out. This was all downhill and only 5 miles to the next one. I moved with haste here and passed a handful of people. This is also when I took my caffeine pill as it was dark out and I wanted to get a little awake so I didn't trip all of the time. I went down, down, down, connected to the national forest road, and ran on that 

I could see that the aid station was just up ahead. Brad admitted at this point (mile 85) that he had no clue where I was at as the GPS was faultering and they had very strict rules here (Wychus). He had to park on the road which was confusing for runners because it was a huge stream of cars and lights, but I don't actually recall ever seeing the aid station. We exchanged packs again and he said he would see me at 94. This was the worst 10 miles.

Basically it was uphill the entire time on a very gradual national forest road. Up. Up. Up. Slow. Slower. Slowerer. I was getting annoyed it wasn't just straight up. "Why can't I just climb straight up and run flats? Why does it have to be this slow uphill torture? Why did they do this?" It never ended. I would try to run parts and just say forget it. This was probably my slowest section and lowest I had on the day. Once I FINALLY got to the top I was excited that it was going to be downhill. That excitement got crushed.

The next 4 miles was on a rocky horse trail. As a reward for the uphilll and slow slog, I got to run down a messed up horse trail littered with small rocks and boulders. I was beyond annoyed. "All of that slow climbing for this!?" was all I could think of. I walked more of this section than I should have. I was just not having it and the compromise of trying to run and eat it just didn't seem worth it. I kept going on what seemed like a long time. I was also eyeing my watch as I told Brad that I wanted to get sub 18 hours. I lost lots of time on these two segments and was wondering if that was now going to be feasible thanks to this stupid horse trail.

I slogged on and could see lights in the distance. Amazing! I knew this was Cow Camp and the last aid station until the finish. I got in and there were a handful of people there, Brad included. The first thing I said was "that section sucked" and people laughed, though I think some were a little offended at my salty attitude. I consulted with Brad and asked for a new headlamp and that I wanted to get out asap as I just had an hour to get through 4.5 miles. That was a stretch it felt. Brad gave me his headlamp and one bladder and I was out in under 2 minutes probably.

This section was not bad at all. A small uphilll and then it was mostly flat and a slight downhill. I just kept looking at my watch and telling myself that I slaved all day and I wasn't going to get lazy at this point to just miss my goal of sub 18. I kept on ahead and also kept gandering at my watch. I could see some bright lights up in the distance and knew that I was getting to a road section which is like pure gold, especially when you know the next stop is the end of this.

I followed the lights and lost the way. The finish is on a school track at a middle school. Unfortunately I was following the wrong orange flags. I was following a school construction project and not the actual trail. Of all places I got lost, it wasn't on the trails but in the city. It's like running on trails and rarely falling but eating it hard on concrete. Like, how does this happen? I was desperately looking around with my headlamp going in every direction. I could see where I had to end but didn't know how to get there. I said forget it and ran onto the track from where the 110 meter hurdles start w/ the finish being at the the start of the 300 hurdles. 

I ran half a track and surprised everyone. Brad was disappointed as he was expecting me to come the same way as everyone else but I snuck up behind him and everyone else. He told me after that I was the only one who couldn't find the right ending. The race directors attempted to give me a 50 mile finish but I corrected them in that I did not finish 50 but a 100 and got the belt buckle. Although I could've been under 17:40, my little mishap cost me a couple of minutes, so I finished in 17:40 - certainly nothing to complian about.

I was totally delighted. I beat the old course record by more than 20 minutes and finished 4th overall - a testament to the talent that came out this year and the perfect conditions. This was my second fastest 100 ever and had I ran my fastest, I still would've ended 4th. 

Thank you to those that watched along all day. I was so pleasantly surprised how many texts I got from family members and friends at 3 in the morning (their time) and other friends who followed me along all day. The support means the world to me, and I'm so grateful that my two feet allow me to see such wonderful and amazing places. Truly I am blessed.

Hallucination 100: Peace, Love, and Joy

The daunting thought of running 100 miles resurfaced. The memory of puking and losing the war with my GI system. Sleep deprivation. Dehydration. I mean, why would I not register for a 100-mile run with such joyful memories? Perhaps it was the Hallucination 100 being a more "tame" 100. With just 9,000 feet of climbing spread across 100 miles, I figured it would be a day full of peace, love, and joy. In reflection a few weeks after the event, I have concluded this was definitely in the top 5 easy 100s I've done. Coming into Hallucination, I felt prepared. Though I'm not one to put in 100s of miles in training, I did put in a couple of 80ish mile weeks with some intense climbing, and all at elevation (helps to live in the mountains). I also tested out different flavors of tailwind and wanted to try an all liquid diet that wasn't alcohol. No food for me for 100 miles. The focus was to implement what I have failed at in the past 100s I've done and see if I can make a teensy bit of improvement. Since my stomach is my greatest enemy, I didn't want that to ruin my race. Thankfully, it didn't here.

The race started at 2 PM in the woods of Gregory, Michigan. Very unusual for a 100. But, I suppose they wanted everyone to hallucinate - hence the name - since everyone was more than very likely to be up all night to see and experience the sunrise the next morning. My parents and my friend Mark accompanied me on this one.

Another motivation on this one was the culture of the race. Everyone was in tie die, stoned, and maybe a little off the standard deviation charts of "normal" human beings, but I guess that is the general makeup of most ultra runners that I know (OK, maybe we aren't total druggies). This one just embraced it and added the colors to really enhance the experience. What happened in the camp I passed 6 times in the middle of the night, stayed in the camp.

But to the race. Things started jolly and merry, as they always do. The course comprises 6, 17ish mile loops. Every aid station was about 4–6 miles apart. Logistically, that made things very simple. I came prepared with 0 drop bags and malfunctioning earbuds. Mark supplied both of these things for me (and thanks again, Mark).

In costume for the culture of the event, I sported my mushroom inknburn shirt. We were now underway on loop 1. Mentally, I wanted to tell my brain to just run 6, 17-mile loops, not think of it as an aggregated 100 miles. This is usually how I break this distance up - small milestones that are more achievable rather than thinking of the whole thing. My brain told my body just repeat the 17 miles and it will advise when it should stop, just know it won't be immediate. 

Once the race was underway, I found myself with a couple of 100k runners and a handful of 100 mile runners. We were being led by the eventual women's 100k winner. She was the lone woman in a group of 8 guys and was an excellent pacer until the course split between our distances and I never saw her the rest of the day and night.  Also in the group was the eventual men's champion from Canada. I learned he won it last year and is a competitive marathon roadrunner. Admittedly, that was a worry coming into this. Although I came in with mountain legs, this really is not a hilly course and my training wasn't on flats at all. Having an entirely runnable course presents a different challenge, and the Canadian told me that he would be scared to do Mohican (a hilly course in OH, where I'm originally from). He likes his road and flat and said this is the max he would do on trails. Consider himself lucky this was the course ;).

We all marched on together and we picked up some aid. A lot of the course reminded me of Ketlle Morraine in Wisconsin: lakes, locust trees, greenery, non-technical single track trails, and some wide roads. This makes for some speedy sections. My favorite parts of the course were the hills and the downhills. I am not a good flat runner and like the excuse to walk uphill and then get rewarded with free downhill running which is arguably my strong suit. However, my battle today would be the flats.

Once I saw my parents halfway through the first loop, I got some new tailwind and marched on. My parents met me at the start/finish and the third aid station. Because of the short distances between the aid stations, it made restocking my supplies very easy.

Loop 2 is where the Canadian really started to take off. In fact, I never saw him again. There were a few others who also took off much earlier in the race and I was sitting between 4th-8th at the time. My hamstring was feeling a little wonky, but I think this usually happens early in races for me when I don't run for a few days and suddenly my body is realizing what is happening and acts up. Thankfully this didn't last all night. I remember lap 2 I wished I had more tailwind. I had one bladder full of water and another full of tailwind and I would restock with my parents every 8 miles. However, I realized that I wasn't drinking enough tailwind and getting enough calories. I started getting hungry halfway through this loop (mile 24ish) and picked up a single Oreo. Hard to believe, but that was the only Oreo I ate all day.- or food food for that matter. Like a child getting caught eating a chocolate chip cookie, that same guilt washed over me as I already broke my goal of sticking to liquid diet only. 

When I saw my parents, I changed out the water for the 2 bladders of tailwind. This was the strategy moving forward. I remember in another race someone told me that if you burp that is a good thing as your body is digesting food. Since tailwind is basically liquid cocaine, it dissolved easily in my bloodstream and gave me the sugars, and the burps, that I needed and tricked my body in thinking it was full - success!

Now I made it to loop 3 and saw my parents and Mark there. Nightfall was imminent as it was around 7 PM. I got my headlamp, tailwind, and headed back out. I probably made it 15 more minutes and had my headlamp on at 7:30 PM. That is depressing. 5.5 hours in the daylight and I knew that I would be up all night. Likely another 12 hours of running with a headlamp and not seeing where you are going. Because sleep is something I struggle with, I made it a point to change out the batteries of my headlamp every 1.5 hours to get the max light when I saw my parents. At this point, my body was still feeling strong. The hamstring issue dissipated, and now Van Halen was telling me to "Jump" in the middle of the woods. A suiting song for what happened next. Since I wasn't as attentive to my steps being a smoother course, one of the three total tree roots on the entire loop reached up with its sharp and woody claws seemingly out of the earth and pulled me down to its woody abyss. I fell about halfway through loop three and got angry. Angry at the root for being so mean, and angry at myself for not paying attention. Similar to how I trip on flat concrete on an almost daily basis, this single root got the best of me. Rule #1 of trail running - never look up without stopping. I broke the golden rule and paid the price.

Thankfully, no major damage was done, just the annoyance of having to pick myself up off the ground. I saw my parents again and got more of the tailwind. I was still feeling really strong and continued on to the road section here before going back on the single trail. I also started to pass some people in the dark of the night and was getting more motivation from that, too. The next thing I knew, I was at the last aid station. It was run be a sweet couple with a motor home and they had a tent in the middle of the woods offering water, pickles, M&Ms and the like. They were my favorite volunteers and I always thanked them when I went through their station. The last section of the loop is the hilliest and arguably my favorite. Everyone on the course was like, "it's pretty hilly at the end." All I could think of is what a great thing. Proof that one person's trash is another person's treasure.

At loop 4 I saw my parents again. They gave me my second caffeine pill so I don't sleep run and changed my batteries again. I tried being very quick in and out of the aid stations as that is what gobbles up your time and you get nothing in return, just a longer day on your feet. My parents did a great job getting what I needed. I hit another high and was moving very well. Getting to the first aid station after the start/finish is what took the longest in my opinion. It just seemed to go on forever. I continued passing people. Not once had I looked at my watch so I had no clue what time of night it was. I just knew it was dark and I couldn't see anything and haven't for several hours.

When I saw my parents halfway through loop 4, I requested more batteries and my dad said "more again?" Not my proudest moment, but I was being a whiny baby and snippy and told him to please just get them. Arguing about batteries in the middle of the night was one of the last things I wanted to do. My parents probably don't believe me that I'm usually kind to volunteers at the aid stations, but for some reason, I am definitely the meanest to them. Maybe it is psychological and all the times they made me help on the farm is now karma making them help me in the middle of the woods changing lights and bladders. Who knows. I did apologize and mom said "you are always this way to us during these, it's OK." That made me feel better and worse at the same time. They didn't have to be out here doing this, but I guess I've already made their expectations so low on my attitude with them that they braced themselves for it. 

Once I got the batteries, I headed back out and went through the winding trails until I got to the last aid station and was glad that the hilly section was left, and then I will be 2/3 done. The main start/finish is definitely the most motivating part. Once I hit the aid station I got more of my tailwind and saw a guy named James come in as well. He looked super strong and of course he also was a 100 mile runner, too. At this point I was running in 2nd. I passed a handful of people over the last 2 loops and just needed to sustain this.

I spoke with James briefly and he was doing the Midwest Grandslam: 4 100s in the Midwest within 6 months. Very impressive. He was from Chicago and we made small talk. As we headed out together someone in the hippy camp yelled "Go California!" That gave me a chuckle and made me wonder who would've said that - who knows! I'm not sure people in that camp even knew where they were at after smelling the 420 pretty heavily.

Loop 5 was the worst. At this point, it was probably 3 in the morning. My quads were not happy. Shocking given the amount of mountain climbing I did and how flat this course was, but it was the quads and not the stomach that were revolting now. Although downhill is my favorite, I was definitely feeling it. I definitely felt like I was pushing through a stone wall and wasn't making much progress. Getting to that first aid station felt like a really, really long time. Despite it all being runnable, I could feel myself getting lazy. Granted this was mile 75ish, I didn't feel great walking some of the flats. Even the smallest uphill I justified walking. My quads kept getting a bit worse and I was a bit surprised that no one passed me. 

My parents weren't at the halfway point as they needed to get some shut eye, but they were kind to leave my bladders full so I just traded them out with my current ones and headed back out. I kept slogging to the last aid station and I was so glad that I was nearing the final lap. I saw the couple again and thanked them again for being out there all night. They said they are glad they will only have to see me one more time. I laughed and headed out.

Finally, lap 6! Once you hit mile 80 of a 100 mile race, unless a bone is sticking out or your puking blood, there really are no excuses to not finish, even if you are crawling to the end. The only thing I was missing from this lap was the detrimental bodily malfunctions, but I made up for it with gargantuan amounts of self-pity and woe is Nick melodrama. Once I got passed on this lap by the eventual second placer and his pacer, that is when my self-taught theatrical performance kicked in when I saw my parents. This guy breezed past me like he just started and I was on the brink of death. My quads just gave up since halfway of loop 5. Not my proudest self reflection moment, but I couldn't help but hope and wonder if he felt even remotely as bad as me. We covered the same ground but why was he feeling so much better? Did his pacer shower him with magical potion water that heals all muscles and bones? Whatever fairy dust he was drinking, I needed some of that.

They headed out and I tried keeping up on the dirt road but it was over catching that guy and I knew that. He had a pacer and just got major motivation passing me. The writing was on the wall of me securing second, but I started reflecting that I didn't puke at all during the night and overall felt really good. I pressed on and walked a bit until the final aid station. They said "good riddance" and I thanked them again was so glad my time out here was nearing. At least my headlamp was gone and the sun was out and breathing new life on me (and probably everyone else). 

I passed a lot more people on this section and tramped up the final hills. When I ws close to the finish I got another wind and felt a bit emotional. Running 100 miles is usually an emotional journey, and I was so glad to have completed another with minimal damage and overall feeling good.

Finishing in 18:37, I hit my goal of sub 19. As much as I would've liked to get second, I was very glad with the result. Everything really went according to plan and the weather was incredible. I was stoked that the tailwind works so well and that could be the resolve for the stomach issues. 

Onward to the next!

Kodiak 100: A Date With The Bear

Ultrannuning can sometimes be fun and other times disastrous. The experience at Kodiak was a lot of both. Similar to how the sun rises and falls, ocean currents wade up and down the sandy beach, and pulling the switch turns the light on and off - the highs and lows at Kodiak were as consistent as a clock.

Mediocre spaghetti was the meal of choice before the big run. Though lacking in flavor, it got the job done and I was relieved to have escaped the hordes of people at race check-in (I was like the 10th person in line). The most taxing part about ultrarunning is the wait. Not sure if I'm one of the few that gets anxious days leading up to it - the night before especially -  but it is by far my least favorite part. After settling in my hotel the night before, I think I heard and saw every hour of the night. I didn't sleep well and was dreading the 4:07 AM alarm that I had set (for some irrational reason, I think picking a random alarm time when it's set to be super early tricks the brain into thinking it will sleep in). Unfortunately, my theory was wrong, and my anxiety got the better of me. Not sleeping the night before a 100 mile run isn't unusual for me, so I was least grateful the wait was over.

With the race starting promptly at 6, I put on all my gear, ate my normal breakfast (3 eggs with a bagel and lots of butter), and then drove the half mile to the start of the race. I received my GPS tracker at check-in, made sure all my food was ready, and then put my three drop bags at their respective locations: Nordic Rim (mile 25), Cushenbury (mile 55), and Sugarloaf (mile 67 and 81).  Kodiak has 17,000 feet of climbing, so I wanted trekking poles but didn't want to carry them until I got to the 3,000-foot climb up to Sugarloaf (mile 67), and also the highest point of the race (just under 10,000 feet). Sidenote: Those who know me know that I'm a TERRIBLE planner - I'm spontaneous in a lot of ways (which probably explains why I finish races in trashbags sometimes) Needless to say, I was proud of my organization.

The clock hit 6:00, and it was time to run. My primary goal this race was to finish under 24 hours. In 2021 only 6 people were under a day, so I knew it was going to be brutal and a respectable goal. Though there is a decent amount of climbing, I assumed (and can now confirm), that the long, exposed sections of the race at elevations between 7,000-10,000 is what destroys most people. Sunscreen and water quickly become your best friends.

The first aid station was 6.5 miles out. Nothing really stuck out from this section aside from there being lots of runners in groups and many rolling hills. The real fun started at Champion (mile 14). This is the section you go down Siberia Canyon and then up the other side. First off, the name is epic. Being the middle of August, I knew this wasn't going to be a nice North Pole tour with elves and talking bears, but more like an unwanted Saharan expedition down abandoned trails. 

The downhill was a lot of fun. I remember moving very nicely through this section, following a runner up ahead. What struck me was the dramatic landscape all around me. It was a sharp green mountain that jets in the sky across from me. I also was taking in all of the manzanitas on this section. This trail could also be called "Eye Poker Trail." It seemed I was tunneling through and contorting my body through narrow trails and had to dodge scraggly eye-poking shrubs. Every plant on this section was sharp. They were playing a game of who can get the most pokes on the incoming runners. My last observation was that we were descending - and a lot. 

This eventually flattened out and we were boulder hopping in the canyon. The bugs were atrocious. They were extra motivation to keep moving as they were swarming everywhere. There was a stream we crossed and an "aid station" at the bottom of Siberia Canyon. They intelligently were wearing nets around their faces and very graciously donating water before the steep climb. I filled the pack up and headed out. 

Siberia Canyon is one of the lows of Kodiak. Despite living an hour away and training on parts of the course, I was not prepared for Siberia Canyon. It is a 3,000 foot climb up to Nordic with 0 shade. By the time I got here it was late morning - perfect for the midday sun to cook. Though 81 may not sound too hot, it is awful at elevations of 7,000+ when there is no shade - it's like being put in an environmental microwave. It was this section that a handful of people passed me. Though I was mostly acclimitized to running at this elevation, something about the sun just destroyed me. It felt like the whole world passed me here.

However, I kept climbing. I could hear voices not far away and I was sweating profusely. Thankfully I made the summit shortly therafter as my water supply was empty. I crossed the road and was flabbergasted to see my friends - Brian and Matt. It was definitely a pick me up, and it did give me some life back. At Nordic I had my first drop bag. I restocked on the only foods I planned to eat that day: Oreos, apple sauce, and Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. I drank a whole soup and took the other one with me. 

The next stop was Green Valley Lake. I've run here before and knew the area. I had a high from seeing Brian and Matt. I also think the calories from the soup kicked in as well. It was nice to run some trails I've been on before. However, despite knowing Green Valley, I also knew that it was a long, exposed section of the race. Once at the aid station, they made sure we had two liters of water as the next one was 10 miles out. Though I've done races with them longer, this was totally exposed. It was also the middle of the day so the best to get fried as well.

I restocked and went out with a handful of guys. I think I've confirmed there are two types of runners: those who do it for social reasons and others who do it for the nature reasons. I'm in the latter. It's not that I am not a social person, but there is something about the total disconnect that I treasure in these events. When the groups started mingling, I was cloistering on different parts of the road.

Eventually, the groups got broken up (namely, they kept driving forward). This was another low of the race. I was about 1/3 of the way and I had to get Oreos out of my bag. I went to get it and everything fell out of the pack. When I say "everything", I mean everything but my two water packs in the front: GPS, Oreos, apple sauces, Skullcandy headset, and Campbell's Chicken Soup. I played cleanup and pressed on. As I kept going, I heard someone say "are you number 60!?" from afar. I turned around, and lo and behold, there was my GPS tracker! It was the one thing I left behind as the other runner picked it up. 

After realizing I was shunning people, it was people, aka another person, who saved my race. Oh, the irony of that. Tim was his name and I greatly appreciate him catching up and giving it to me. We then ran for a little bit on that section, but he was definitely feeling more chatty than me. He said if he gets to mile 87 and has to crawl to the finish, he would go all 36 hours if he had to. Admittedly, I admired his mindset, as I was being a little whiny baby in my brain at that point. If I'm also being honest, I was also a little annoyed he was feeling way better than me. "Misery loves company" and this company was being a lot more optimistic than me and just didn't understand me (boo-hoo). But, I was healthily motivated from him. Later I learned he did finish in 31 hours, so congrats Tim!

 I was getting that feeling of not really wanting food. I think the heat of the day was getting to me. Therefore, I wasn't eating, and I could feel myself slowing. This was the early signs of what has historically bankrupted a few of my races. Though mechanically things were ticking perfectly, the stomach is the dictator of the body, and the stomach and the rest of my body have had some sharp disagreements.  

I did get a few Oreos down and got a second wind. I passed Tim for good and pressed on to Hana Flats. I remember this section being mostly flat and I did more walking than I should have. I'd give myself a C- on nutrition on this leg. I didn't eat a lot and I was getting early signs of bonking (totally having no energy due to no calories) and knew I had to eat a few more Oreos.

I got to this aid station and immediately put in my ear buds. Next stop was the Van Halen Aid Station (that's what I called it). That was at mile 47. This section was going through a campground and up a long, gravel road. The next thing I knew, I was on the PCT and had sensational views of Big Bear Lake and the high desert to the east - it was sensational. Running along the PCT was again planting the seed of doing the entire PCT from Mexico to Canada. Maybe someday. It then turned into a downhill and this was when I excelled. Downhill running is something I'm quite decent at. I caught up to a number of runners and got a second wind. These were all of the runners who got ahead of me at Green Valley Lake.

Next thing I knew I was at Van Halen. What impressed me most here were the aid station volunteers. They were some of my favorites. There was a lady who would respond on command and her two kids were mini drill sergeants. Whatever I asked was done with two adult and 4 kids hands coming at me with aid. Their efficiency was impressive, and I very much appreciated all of their help!

From here I started to head to Cushenbury. This was when things went downhill, and not literally, unfortunately. Shortly after leaving, I had a banana and left the other runners I came in with. That was when the stomach revolted the first time. I'll spare the details, but the score is Stomach:1 Body:0. I kept hiking but knew the stomach was something I was now going to have to deal with. I was hoping my diet of Oreos and apple sauce for most of the day would keep it happy. That wasn't the case. I walked a bit as it was uphill and then got motivated to run the second half as it was all down hill. The views of the desert was amazing, but I wasn't fully enjoying it as I was running out of energy. 

In most races I'm not happy when the sun goes down. In this one I couldn't wait. The sun sucked the life out of me, similar to how my Shark vacuum sucks up the Skittles that I drop on the floor. I also knew that the soups would be coming out which really seem to work for me. 

When I got to Cushenbury (55) I grabbed some food and took off as soon as I could. The unfortunate part is I had no energy. I don't usually like hanging out at aid stations so I chose a boulder off the trail this time. I sat and ate some food with the hopes that my stomach would settle. After seeing a handful of runners go by, they graciously asked if I needed anything. I am always impressed with the hospitality at these events. We do generally try to take care of each other and there are many small acts of kindnesses that demonstrate that. After eating a banana, soup, and apple sauce, I took off. It probably wasn't 10 steps more that the stomach settled the score again. Now I was in real trouble.

The next few miles were a slog to Burns. This was most frustrating as it was still daylight and you could see, temps went down, and it was runnable. Though mechanically I could, the calories weren't there to support it so it was a lot of walking. A lot of the people I passed earlier passed me again. This was the lowest point of the course. Eventually I got into Burns and took a seat at their aid station. I was extra delighted because Cushenbury said there were no volunteers at Burns (the Burns people were offended when I broke the news).

Here I recuperated and got my bearings. I also turned my headlamp on and headed to Sugarloaf. This section I'll call the "The Stupid Hill and Mental Destruction." Halfway in this 9 mile section, I got to a national forest road and a sign that said "closed." Well, we go under that sign and up this steep hill. What I didn't expect was the steep hill to last for a really long time. I don't remember seeing this on the map and the aid station workers didn't really warn me about anything up ahead. I think when it comes to doing these events, having false realities can be really destructive mentally. I kept going up this hill which had tons of jagged rocks, you slip backwards a little with each step, and it just kept going forever. I also thought how nice it would be to have my trekking poles, which, thankfully were awaiting me at Sugarloaf at the next aid station. The one positive of this section is when I had the headlamp on, I noticed bats swooping right in front of me to get easy bug prey that was attracted to the light. I felt like Batman, but cooler.

The Stupid Hill continued. And continued. And continued. Until it didn't! It flattened out and I was gaining momentum as we started to go downhill. I knew that at the bottom of the hill would be Sugarloaf which had my aid - and trekking poles. I eventually got to Sugarloaf and looked for my bag with the trekking poles. Tony, the eventual winner, had already completed Sugarloaf and come back from Balky Horse. I was impressed.

After finding my bag I noticed my poles weren't there...I kept looking, thinking it was a mistake but no, they were not there! Now, the mental state I was in was full saltiness mixed with a lot of feelings of self-entitlement that I had to have those trekking poles. It felt like someone who just keeps throwing water in your face. Pure annoyance. What I did notice was that another bag had trekking poles which resembled mine a lot. They were REI, slightly warn, and red. I commented to the aid station volunteers and they thought the same - that I shouldn't take them. They said they would look into it. 

Now Ann was trying to settle me down as I knew Sugarloaf was the hardest part of the course. At mile 67 you climb to 10,000 feet and up about 2,900 on loose rock. I wanted my trekking poles. I even planned to have my trekking poles here. It felt like I disobeyed the disorganizational gods and they were punishing me for being so prepared. Ann eventually let me borrow hers. What I'll say about Ann is she is about 5'2 and her trekking poles were up to my quad. But, it was better than nothing. The other high is I saw my neighbors, Savannah and Gabe. I was not expecting them and it was a very pleasant surprise, though they definitely saw me in a less than enthusiastic state.

Even though I was hunchbacked going up Sugarloaf, the trekking poles were extremely efficient. I had also trained on this mountain so I knew what to expect on the worse of the trail. My stomach was also tolerating the soup and I was getting energy back. All I remember about Sugarloaf is I made a lot of progress. I saw headlamps up ahead and pressed on. Someone who made the summit said "this is soulcrushing" as he was going back down and I was going up. I felt much stronger than he looked and knew others were suffering as I was gaining up to many of them.

Maybe it was Ann's magic trekking poles, the fact I could hold food down, or a combination of things, all I know is things were really coming along. There were groups of people I passed and I got to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain at about midnight. Two women were at the top and they punched a hole in my bib. I turned around and knew I wanted to put the foot to the floor. I made excellent headway on this section and passed more groups of people. I was basically sprinting past them. This was exactly how I wanted to feel. The moon was a bloody crest in the sky, protected by the diamond-like stars surrounding it. 

It was all downhill and I made great progress. I put my music back in and was jamming to tunes at midnight on a mountain. I got to Balky Horse, grabbed some soup, and headed back out. It was all downhill. When I got back to Sugarloaf for mile 81, Ann said that the other bag that had my trekking poles hadn't come in yet, so she let me continue with hers (I later learned those trekking poles were mine and they were accidentally put into the other bag when they were being transported).

I took a caffeine pill to help me stay awake, and kept pressing on. I could feel my body getting stronger. It astounds me what my body is capable of when it gets the energy that it needs. The next section was relatively flat. It did include some pavement which hurt a little but eventually saw some other runners and decided to put the pedal to the metal again.  Next thing I knew I was at Skyfall (or so I called it). 

Here I grabbed my provisions, noticed another runner and kept going. It was a slight uphill and then down, down, down. If the former hill was "The Stupid Hill", then this one was "The Stupid Downhill." It never ended. I do love downhill running, but when it just goes on and on and on, it gets annoying. Eventually it did flatten out and there was an aid station at the bottom. It was a guy who just gave water out before the big climb.

Since I was warned on this one, I found this to be signficantly easier than Siberia Canyon. Sugarloaf is on a whole different playing field as well. However, I do think when you're mentally prepared that a section will be hard and it is, it feels less punishing when you get to the hard part. Having false expectations and false realities is what's hurt the most. I think the same could be said of life. Here the sun was coming up as well, or at least partial light. 

I pressed up the hill and eventually got to the final aid station. I was so relieved to make it to mile 96. The race was over at this point. I learned all of the volunteers stayed up all night. We all seemed a little loopy and laughed at pretty much everything. After grabbing a ginger ale, I headed out. Thankfully this was mostly all downhill. I was so happy to know the finish was in sight. I knew I was going to miss my 24 hour goal, but I was happy with how I readjusted that goal and overcame circumstances that just got thrown at me. I'm also happy with the final push at the end and feeling better at the end of a 100 than I think I've ever felt. 

Once I hit the pavement, deep relief overwhelmed me. It was an amazing feeling to know that I just ran around all of Big Bear Valley. It was a beautiful experience and I'm so grateful that I got to experience it. I could see the sign ahead with the time of 24:33. The race directors congratulated me and I got the Kodiak 100 belt buckle - and 7th overall. There were about 105 that started and 69 finished, so congrats to all of those who did. The drop rate was certainly higher than most I've run, and I can see why.

Given that I was at 15th at one point, I couldn't be more pleased with passing 8-9 people on the last 20 miles. I felt strong and I think there are some takeways from this race. The last couple haven't been the most smooth, but they certainly continue to test me mentally and physically, and there is just something primal about them that has me going back for more.

Thanks to the race directors, volunteers, friends family, and others who supported me, both in-person and in spirit. It's much appreciated!

Lone Star 100: An Unexpected Journey

Never would I have thought that Texas has mountains. In fact, if you had asked me, I probably would have laughed and said, "no way!" This changed when I came across a local race in El Paso called Lone Star 100. Rob Gurney created a masterpiece of a course comprising of 3 loops in Franklin Mountain State Park, averaging about 34 miles per loop. In fact, the course starts at about 4,000 feet of elevation and you climb to just about 7,200 at the highest point on North Franklin Peak. The elevation is one thing but the scree fields you go on are a whole different playing field.

When I registered for Lone Star 100 3 weeks before the start, I knew going in that finishing was my number one priority. Truth is I haven't ran a 100 miler since June of 2018. No doubt going in the pain cave was a fleeting memory, but something I missed and so finishing was really all I cared about. My second goal was to control the stomach. Historically GU and other sugary foods never really did the trick for me. It is good for 20-40 miles, but then my body starts to puke incessantly. This ruined my last 100 attempt at Superior in Minnesota when I couldn't keep anything down. I was super dizzy and seeing doubles of everything. It all centralized around nutrition. So, going in, I was willing to experiment a bit and forego the GU. Although a bit risky, I don't believe in insanity in doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I'm a firm believer that growth means change and change involves risk, stepping from the known to the unknown. That unknown for me in this race was baby food, and boy did that pay dividends, but more on that later.

I was also lucky in that my good friend, Mark, was willing to tag along. I met Mark in San Diego and he has been instrumental in figuring out nutrition and helping me look at it totally different than I had before. Although he doesn't prefer running, we did go on a few hikes with me and was really intrigued with the sport and wanted to tag along to which I had no qualms. It is also worth mentioning that he was fantastic at crewing and knew what I needed before I got there-a rare trait for someone who's never done the sport!

To the start. The "race" started at 5:00 AM MT. Surprisingly, I slept great the night before which isn't always the case. But now it was time to get situated and ready. When I got to the start, there were about 40 of us there. Rob sent us off and there we went!

Loop one was all about getting to know the course and taking it easy. Since I wasn't approaching this as a race but something to just finish, I certainly didn't push the pace at the start. I followed a core group of people up the initial incline, and boy was it an incline. Not only that, but it was loose rocks that were super slippery. Since I don't really study course descriptions before a race, it is always a little surprise of what I'm actually in for. This start was also how we would finish and I had to do this section six times. The 5.5 miles is just a quick loop, that aside from that first climb, was fairy simple (all relative to the course, of course). I met a girl named Rachel who didn't finish last year and that was what she was gunning for (and glad to say she eventually did!)-to make it to the finish. 

After passing Rachel I continued making my way up to the group leaders of about 5. This included Alyson and the eventual 2nd place male. We were making good headway and we got to a flat section. This eventually led to a gradual incline and there we were-back to the beginning! It is also worth noting that the 100k runners were about to start. So 5.5 miles had taken about an hour. 

This is where the fun really started. I got my things and started to head to the steepest part of the entire course. Below is a pic for reference:

The scree section reminds me of a lot of Ouray's technical down hill, but worse. It is like an old Disney movie where there is a beautiful paved road with flowers and butterflies that leads to the dark lord's fortress. However, with any good classic Disney movie, there was success getting up it. I was blessed to hike this section with Alyson. Alyson happened to win the women's division the past 2 years and would be the eventual champion again for her third straight win. She knew the course well and communicated that being sub 24 hours on this course was her goal. When I heard this, I knew she meant to win it outright. 

Prior to coming here, I did see that there were only 3 sub 24 hour times on this course and 2/3 were the same guy, Karl Meltzer, the same guy who has won more 100s than anyone alive. He also has the 2nd fastest known time doing all 2,200 miles of the Appalachian Trail. Basically, sub 24 seemed other-worldly to me, but was very impressed with Alyson's fortitude. I think it brushed on me a little bit too.

We also started talking about other races that we did as we both were dodging the jagged rocks, walking straight up the highest point of the race, North Franklin Peak. However, before getting there we would have to stop at Mundy's Gap Aid Station which was about halfway up. Although this section to that aid station was only about 2.5 miles, you would think that would be no time. However, when you go straight up it can take a while.

After connecting with Alyson, I was surprisingly feeling pretty good and decided to march on. I honestly had no intention of taking the lead for the sole purpose of trying to win, but more because I felt good and I know that my bad spells would come later so needed to use the highs while I had them.

With that said, I continued climbing straight up and it eventually flattened out to a forest service road which then connected to the aid station about 400 meters out. After getting there, the sunrise was beginning to come out. I restocked my water and headed to the top. I was being very intentional with the foods that I ate. This section was baby food which consisted of bananas and blueberries. I was very pleased with this combo and was glad to report that it packed 90 calories-not bad!

Getting to the top of this aid station seemed to take forever. There were loads of false summits but I could tell it was getting beautiful out as the sky made a bright orange and red color. This is also where I noticed Jesse Ellis taking pics. Below is my view from about 7,000 feet:

Once I got to the top, I noticed the tower and the orange box that you had to open to retrieve the bracelet to prove you were at the top before heading back to Mundy's Gap Aid Station. It was white. I put it on my wrist and took off back down the mountain. Close to summit was Alyson and we fist bumped as I headed back down the steep peak. From here it was down, down, down for quite some time. I wasn't too disappointed in that since we had just climbed for what seemed like forever.

After getting near the bottom, I was passing quite a few other runners. We gave each other our condolences. It made me feel better that everyone was feeling the mountain a little bit. I'll admit that I didn't train vertically as much as I would have liked, but this was also just a massive experiment with training that consisted mostly of 2-3 hour runs once a week, several walks throughout the day, and a lot of rest peppered in throughout the week. It was amazing what some rest will accomplish.

After bombing down that section, I got back to Mundy's Gap and attempted to give them my white bracelet. They said to give it to the people at the start which meant I had to wear it for another 20ish miles. It was time to go to Bowen. This was probably my favorite part. You continued to bomb down the forest service road on a slight downhill, non-technical trail. This section was about 7.5 miles. I thrived here. After the sun was coming up, I decided to take off my gloves as I was running downhill and stuffed them in my bag. About 50 minutes into this section I was noticing that I didn't have my bracelet anymore- it had disappeared! Go figure! I go through all of this trouble and have no actual proof that I made it to the summit. All of the good that I was feeling that day disappeared within a moment's notice.

I figured that my story of bumping fists with Alyson at the top and trying to give the bracelet to the Mundy's Gap Aid Station people was compelling enough to at least make a case in case they wanted to disqualify me. However, to be in first and not show that I made it to the top made me feel like a legitimate cheater even though that was far from the case. Most people in this sport I like to think don't cut corners given the distance covered and the mentality of why we even enter these things. It just doesn't make sense. Thankfully this never became an issue. With that said, I was frantic in explaining to Mark when I got to Bowen that I did in fact go to the top of Franklin Peak and had lost it on the last section. He seemed as cool as cucumber hearing it and I felt like a frantic mess.

After restocking here it was time to head to West Aid Station. This section was probably my least favorite. It was gradual uphill for about 3 miles and then up and down for 3.5 miles and then mostly downhill the last mile. It just seemed to take forever. Although there wasn't a lot of climbing in this section, I did feel that I made good progress. I did however drink 2 liters of water on this section and was out with about a mile to the aid station. This section was also completely deserted. I passed no people all 3 loops on this section and was in complete solitude. I continued to eat the baby food that I picked up and learned that although I can get mango, apple, and carrot down, it wasn't my favorite but it certainly beat puking it up which likely would have been the case if it were GU.

On the final mile there were two women who seemed pretty happy to see someone. They were like "we were wondering if any people were going to come." Needless to say I felt like a king as they got everything I could possibly want. After thanking them, I took off on the last section back to the start/finish. This section was about 7.5 miles and this too seemed to take an eternity. At this point you could see North Franklin Peak way out in the distance and I knew that I had to go all the way back there since that is where the start/finish was. I pressed on and found this section to be fairly flat. 

About 2/3 of the way there I ran into a mountain biker who was out with some friends, but he was by himself at the time. He made small talk and asked how much I was running. I told him and he about lost his mind. He couldn't believe it. He then started to follow me and talk. I had no qualms chatting, but I also can be a very focused runner and feel I can come across as very stern at times. He eventually saw his friends and stopped following me and hung out with them. I pressed on. Right towards the end of this loop there was a diversion in the trail. It was very confusing as to which way I should go. I was completely out of water at this point and it didn't seem to make sense. Although I didn't have a lot of lows in this race, this was undoubtedly the lowest the entire time. I contemplated going the way the sign seemed to be pointing but that just didn't make sense given where the other trail led. 

After waiting a few minutes, the bikers had caught up. I stopped them and asked if they knew which way. Being locals, they advised how far each trail was and they suggested I go the way that the sign said not to go. Oddly enough this was my intuition from the get-go and took their advice (this was after already running to the top of the hill that this goes and thinking I had done this wrong and ran back to the bottom of the diversion). After taking their advice I went back up the hill and hoped that I had gone the right way.

I went up the stairs and passed a few hikers and asked if they knew, which they didn't. I trusted my instinct on this and pressed on. This was the section that had about 5-6 false summits and was extremely technical. However, I was still feeling pretty good and bombed down the technical downhill into the aid station. I vocalized that I got lost and spent about 10-15 minutes on that section trying to figure out which way to go. Rob and the team apologized and went to the course to make the change. For once I had selected the right way!

Time for lap 2. As I restocked my food supply, I headed back to the top of the hill for the 5.5 mile loop. I passed Alyson and she was looking pretty good. This section went by fairly quickly and I was back at the start.

Time to go back up to North Franklin Peak and the super gnarly climb. On the road section, there was a lady by the name of Sandy who asked if I was Nick. I told her that I was and she said "Connie from Hawaii says hello!" It was a major pick-me-up as I continued onward and really made me miss Connie. Connie was a friend that I stayed with in Hawaii as I ran HURT 100. She also helped me celebrate my birthday while I was there. Nothing but fond memories and something I was very appreciative of as I was about 35 miles into the race. 

Up the steep incline I went and to Mundy's Gap Aid Station. I quickly refilled my water and headed to the actual summit. This section did seem to take forever. Although it isn't as steep as the other section to get here, this one just took forever and was very deceiving as you constantly wondered where the top was. However, just with any other race, one foot in front of the other develops the best results. At this point the sun too was high in the sky. I checked my watch for the second time the entire day and it was about 2:30 PM. Not bad to bag this peak by that time.

Down, down, down was the next part. I saw Alyson pretty close to Mundy's Gap Aid Station, but she was just starting her ascent and I was nearly completing mine. I could tell that I made solid progress on this section. I also made sure that the white bracelet that I had I held onto for dear life. Heaven forbid I show up to the start/finish twice without the bracelet (they never did ask the first time).

From here it was down, down, down. There were a few hikers out there and some mountain bikers who were very chatty. Not sure if it is a Texas thing or the fact that all of us runners looked a little worn down that made everyone want to stop and ask us questions. Nonetheless, I really appreciated the hello's and found it very uplifting. That and the fact I had to give little effort on this downhill. One thing I didn't consider is although it felt like a free pass to go down, down, down, I forgot the impact that this would have on my quads later down the road. 

 

I continued to eat my baby food and orange shot blocks (which work incredible by the way), and got to Bowen Aid Station. I was now halfway through the course. I reconnected with Mark, restocked my food supply and water, and headed back out to West. I'll admit that I did walk a bit more on this section, but was happy to do so given that I had just bombed down the last section and felt I had made tremendous progress.

About halfway through this section my stomach demanded that I use the restroom. With very little notice I pulled over to use the bathroom. It is in situations like this that I'm always grateful that I carry some tp. You never know when mother nature will strike and you have to be prepared. Also, I was very happy it was an issue from that end and not the other. Traditionally I puke my guts out and this seemed like a happy alternative. I suspect that the baby food I ate all day caused this to happen.

After taking care of business, I pressed on. I climbed the final mountain and could then oversee the entire downhilll section that I had to go on to get to West Aid Station. I pressed on downhill and got to the aid station. There were two individuals. An older gentleman and a lady I'd guess in her 30s and they were very surprised to see me. The complimented me on the progress that I was making and quickly got me the supplies I thought I needed for the final push to the start/finish. 

I took the gear and headed out. Thankfully at this point I knew exactly what was in front of me, including which way the route goes. It was just a matter of sustaining and not doing anything abnormally stupid. The good news with this course is that it does force you to slow down on sections and therefore you can conserve energy. I continued on and at this point it was a beautiful 70 degrees and all sun. There was no shade on this course, so, although it isn't super warm, it did bake you under the sun. My water supply again ran out, but at least I knew where I was and that I was close to the start/finish.

After getting there, Mark had my gear ready to go. This lap I decided that I was going to take my trekking poles. I would forego them the first 5.5 miles since it was relatively flat, but I would take them for the super technical section up to Mundy's Gap. At this point I had my headlamp so things were moving a little slower, but this also meant that everyone else was slowing down too. 

I finished the 5.5 miles and grabbed my trekking poles. This also was a first for me too. I have never used trekking poles in a race before and now I feel cheated from everyone who has used them against me before. They are a complete game changer, especially on courses where it is straight vertical and your legs are toast. Uphill became my strong point and downhill was somewhat of a struggle. After slogging my way to the top of Mundy's Gap, I was passing quite a few other runners at this point. It was a combination of both 100 milers and 100kers. Most of them were on lap 2 and I was lucky enough to be on my last.

When I got to the aid station most thought that I was doing the 100k and when I told them it was the 100 miler, they too lost their minds. It made me feel pretty good given that it felt like I had taken an extremely long time getting to the top of this section and I still had to get to the top of the peak.

After restocking my water, I continued to eat more baby food and walk up the the final stretch to the peak. It felt great knowing that this was my last time having to climb this. To think that the 200 mile people had to do this 6 times instead of 3 was absolutely astounding to me. It certainly made my struggle less of a struggle when compared to what they were enduring.

After passing lots of people, I finally made it to the top. The view of El Paso at night was absolutely incredible. Below is a pic for reference:

We also were warned quite regularly that the peak was extremely windy and to proceed with caution. Personally, I thought the wind wasn't that bad thanks to my Patagonia Houdini jacket, but it certainly picked up at the very top. After opening the orange chest to retrieve my bracelet, I noticed that they were completely out. I did a double search but couldn't find any. Great! Hopefully this doesn't come back to haunt me. 

As I headed back down the peak, I passed a couple of others and asked if they had a bracelet. They admitted that there weren't any and they asked for my number just in case I get scrutinized for not having it. I appreciated they were willing to do so. After getting to Mundy's Gap for the final time, I refilled my bottles and headed to Bowen.

From here I felt like I was flying. However, with my most races at night time it always feels like you're running a 5 minute mile but it probably closer to 13-14 minute. Regardless I felt great on this section and passed more people here than at any other part of the course. About halfway to Bowen, I passed a group of 4 which had two men and 2 women. The one guy yelled "and here is your 100 mile champion!" At this point I was jamming out to "Lonely Together" by Avicci but did manage to make out what he said. The wind also seemed to really pick up at this point as well. 

One thing I noticed with the trekking poles is they engage your upper body more. Given that my legs were fairly well toast at this point, the trekking poles were incredible for running up the small inclines on this section. Usually I hate these sections late in a course when the uphill is short enough and not steep enough to run but you have nothing left, the trekking poles were a fantastic alternative. I was essentially running the uphills now and still somewhat cruising on the downhill.

I entered Bowen and saw Mark about .1 miles from the aid station. He was, I guess, trying to blind me with his headlamp as I was coming in, and I tried playing the game of losing him to the aid station. My effort must have been valiant because he admitted he was having a hard time keeping up and didn't think I should have looked this good, which is something I agreed with.

We got in the tent and could hear the entire thing just howling with the wind. I was wondering if the whole tent was going to blow away. I gave him my bottles and he refilled them as I munched on Oreos. I couldn't believe how easy Oreos went down. They were a God send. They have so many calories and they taste incredible, I was in awe of how much they helped (and in fact I carried a bag of them the past two aid stations as I was tired of baby food). Mark asked if I was done with my trekking poles and I quickly advised that I wasn't and took off to West. About .5 mile into this section, I went for a drink of my water only to learn that it was Heed!

Heed is an electrolyte mix that some runners take but that I personally don't believe in at all. Mark had accidentally filled both liters with heed instead of water. This was somewhat of a problem given this is one of the longer sections and I had been running out of water to begin with on the first two laps. Suddenly I became a little annoyed, but then realized it was an honest mistake and that I easily could have made the same error. Both the water and the heed are in the same container and not as well marked as it could have been. The only downfall here is I would have to trudge on with no water. I did take a few sips of the heed on this section, but I think my optimistic outlook overpowered the negative one that I was feeling.

I pressed on and took a few sips of the heed. The wind was ferocious up high and I was glad that I wasn't having to go back to the top of Franklin Peak and endure that a bit more. I still continued eating but cut that down given that I didn't want to get super thirsty on this section. I was lucky in that it was night time and the sun that was beating down on me earlier in the day had subsided and a full moon had taken over for the light. I really could have done the night section without a headlamp if I wanted. Obviously not the most intelligent decision to do so, but good to know that that was an option. Seeing the time, I knew that I had a fighting chance of getting under 24 hours and that is exactly what I wanted to strive for.

After going up and down throughout this entire section, I was getting pretty thirsty. I just had to get to West Aid Station and then the finish would be the final stop. I got to the final ascent of this section and started downhill. I could tell my quads were absolutely obliterated at this point and I wasn't moving too well. All of the downhill that I bombed down had definitely caught up. I'll admit that I didn't train as much for this race as I should have and that was a contributing factor, but I also know that mile 80 to the end presented all unique challenges of their own. I could see lights out in the distance and knew that was the aid station.

After moving slowly downhill, I could also tell that there were blisters forming on the inside of my toenails. This tends to happen when I bash against rocks all day. I'm blessed in that some ultrarunners really have terrible foot blisters throughout the day, and, aside from these blisters, there was nothing major happening to my body.

I finally got to West Aid Station and restocked my supplies. After standing for a couple of minutes, I noticed that by not moving you do get cold very quickly. I got enough Oreos for the finish and continued to press on. I left this aid station at about 2:30 AM. I had 2.5 hours to get to the start/finish to be the 4th person ever to be under 24 hours on this course. I started to walk the beginning of this section as I downed some Oreos. Getting the calories in that I ignored the past 2.5 hours was pivotal. I also chugged tons of water at that aid station as I didn't have any.

This section took forever. I felt I was running consistently and constantly on this section and was making no headway. North Franklin Peak in the distance was moonlit and inspiring, but extremely demoralizing as it was so far away and that was essentially when my day would end. However, I pressed on. I passed a couple of more runners on the way but for the most part I was solo on this section. 

After getting to the final uphill segment, I thought that I was almost done but this is when the false summits really took their toll. Every uphill I went I thought "this has to be the end" and then it would lead to another downhill with a steep, rocky incline. I did this for seemingly forever. The clock was ticking away, but when I saw the start/finish at about 4:42 AM, I knew there was no way that I wasn't going to get sub 24. This was all mostly downhill but was very rocky. I was side stepping as my quads were absolutely shattered. They had nothing more to give on this section since I used them on the runnable downhills earlier.

The contrast of how I looked finishing here compared to lap 1 or lap 2 coming down must have been painful to see. I went from a galloping mountain goat to a lame camel that forgot how to walk. However, with a little umph, I made it to the end in 23:49. I was so ecstactic and relieved to have made it. To be sub 24 on this course felt like a miracle. Below is a pic of the finish:

I learned a lot from this course. First, taking it easy from the get-go is super important. Too many times I let the adrenaline of the start overpower smart decisions and I pay dearly down the road. I felt I controlled that a lot more on this course and forced myself to slow down in spots where I would normally pick it up. Second, baby food works! I probably owe my brother a lot for his recommendation of using this and testing out a few flavors. I now have something aside from GU that I can use. Third, Oreos remain a favorite food. I love these on and off the course and my love for them only increased. 

Thank you to Rob and the volunteers who put this race on. It is a very exciting event and love what you have done in the Texas Trail racing community. Thanks Mark for crewing and helping me out! Lastly, thanks to everyone else who read this blog. Hopefully you found some amusement during the course of this. 

Best,