Midwest States 100

"Why are you in Wisconsin?" Dalton asked me this about 20 miles into this race, and I told him that a free race entry (thank you, Sid), free flight (thank you points), and a free car ride (thank you, Mark) were reasons I found myself deep in the Chequamegon (pronounced sha-won-again) - Nicolet National Forest running the Midwest States 100.

This race was also special in the sense that completing it would be my 20th, 100-mile finish. That's 2,000 miles of racing. Kind of insane the more I think about that and let it settle in. 

Because of the free factors listed above, it made it an easy choice. For those that have followed me for the past couple of months, they know that I was doing a lot of trail running up and down the West Coast (Mt. Langley/Whitney, Yosemite, Mammoth Lakes, Lassen, Crater Lake, Bend, North Cascades, Leavenworth, Seattle, Portland, the Lost Coast, Redwoods, San Francisco, and Sequioia). Admittedly, the runs that I did at these spots was complete opposite of what the Midwest States 100 was.

The total climbing at the race was between 6,000-7,000 feet. Everything I was doing during the summer was usually at elevation and with a lot more aggressive climbing. I always joke with people that I'm not really a runner but more of an experienced aggressive mountain hiker, but the portfolio of this course would force my climbing legs into more of a marathon runner. 

As the old adage goes - "looks can be deceiving" - was very relevant for this course. With the smallest amount of climbing of any race I've done prior, I candidly thought I could break 17 hours on this course (which also would be a major milestone for me). However, the roots and the rain that ensued was not something that made this feasible. More on that later. For most, I told them that I was shooting for 20 hours which was more than feasible. Seeing the course record was 22:57, I was admittedly a little confused as to why it wasn't faster. But then when I got out there, it became very obvious...

So fast forward to the start. My friend Mark was incredibly gracious to pick me up and support me all day (and night) for this one. Leading up to it, I just used my summer adventure runs and then when I got back home decided that I would register for this (about 3 weeks to the start of the race). I chose to do one solid week where I got about 70-80 miles in, but all of them being mountain miles. How I trained and what this course was were not exactly compatible. But, I also think what I did was more than sufficient.

The day was calling for morning showers. The forecast leading up to it showed that it would be sunny. Because it's the Midwest, I knew that all of that could change in an instant. And it did. That's also why I brought jackets and even asked Mark if I should bring mittens (sorta jokingly, but not). Since I don't usually sleep well the night before these things, I decided to have a little vodka tonic. That actually worked and I'll be doing that moving forward.

The race started at 6 AM. As usual, I found myself in line at the porta potties after chugging coffee to the start of the race. I knew that my GI was still on Pacific time so I was trying to get that cleared as best I could. 

My race strategy this time was to resurrect my old Orange Mud pack (which uses water bottles instead of bladders) and use Tailwind and fluctuate between Orange and Lemon all day long. I briefed Mark the day before how I was anticipating it going, and he took notes and carried the clipboard around all day.

Once the gun went off, I found myself in a train of runners. They started the 100 milers and 100k folks together. I'm usually quite shy in pushing myself to the front of the start, but I do get annoyed with myself at times because I find that I get stuck behind people going at a pace that I would not have chosen. This course also is largely single track (including the very beginning), so it was difficult to get around some of these people early on. 

I was following a guy who was doing his first 100 miler and going a bit slower up the hill than I would have preferred. We chatted a bit and I wished him luck, but when the first opportunity presented itself, I asked if I could get around him which he kindly allowed me to.

Photo Cred: Jennifer Horsen

The first aid station was just over 6 miles in. When I got there there was no one at the aid station, just some water so I filled up one bag of Tailwind with the water and pressed on. At this point, I got in a group of about 5 guys. One of whom has been running 100-milers back to back over the past few weeks. How his body manages to recover is beyond me. Although I found it incredibly impressive of what he was doing and how his body adapted, I also think that he's wreaking havoc on his body. Clearly we have different goals of what the day would look like, but I know I definitely prefer to take a good rest after completing a 100 mile run.

Going around him, I then got into a group with a guy named Dalton and Joe. We ran and chatted for a bit and got to the next aid station which was about 12-13 miles. This was called Wausau. I had to make a quick pitstop to the porta potty but got back on the trail pretty quickly. Mark got my bottles ready and I saw that Dalton was wanting to run with me. Joe had taken off but Dalton admitted to creeping on me prior to the race and wanted to run with me for a bit. He definitely made me feel like a juggernaut coming into this.

He was joking that people from California or Cottonwood Springs, CO don't just come to Wisconsin for any reason and was very curious why I was there. After explaining the economics behind it all, he totally got it. Dalton was also a solid runner. He too had won Black Hills 100 back in the day and placed 4th at Superior 100, which is a very challenging course in Minnesota that runs along Lake Superior. 

As we pressed on together, I could tell that he was going to be a chatterbox. It's not often that I get to run with people, and, being so early in the race, I decided "why not?" We talked about goals for the day and we both were a bit baffled by the current course record. We both had goals to hit 20 hours, so I also think that is why he decided to run with me so we both can keep pace. 

As most people are, he was a bit perplexed that I didn't have a Garmin watch or track any of my metrics/data. I told him that I'd get lost in the details and feel bad, especially when I have a slower day and the watch is telling me what a lazy and slow pig I am for that workout. Although I can see the power and value of having the details, I just find that listening to my body and going with what it needs is most impactful for me. It hasn't let me down yet.

We got to Lily at 19. Mark was there and gave me my Orange Tailwind. Dalton and I headed back out together. I didn't want to spend too long at the aid stations, and Mark did a phenomenal job of having everything ready when I got in. It was also an encouragement to see a face that I knew. He handed me a bag of Tailwind that I prepared beforehand as the next aid station I wouldn't see Mark. It wouldn't be until P-Town at mile 31.

Dalton and I pressed on. It was about this time that the rain started to fall. I could hear it in the trees and and in the wind. What a great sound it made. I was also hoping it wouldn't rain too hard as that would wreak havoc on the trails. It gave me flashbacks to Mohican when it literally rained the entire day. It was a mud hole. Hopefully this wouldn't be a repeat of that. 

As we pressed on, this section as a bit more beat up. It was tall grass and flowy trails. Then we hit a first climb. Dalton let me take the lead at this section and I aggressively climbed up the hill. We both agreed that having climbing breaks is really nice (up to this point we have been running for most of it). We then continued on down to another lake and there was a guy walking and said the aid station was only a mile ahead. We then ran into a guy named Isaac who was running the 100k. 

He now lives in Chicago but is originally from Arkansas, so it was fun that he knew the small college I went to. He said there was one guy up ahead and that that guy admitted that he was going out hard. It was fun to have the idea of someone to chase.

When we pressed on, we all got to the next aid station - called Inn at the Woods. Clever name. I just refilled my tailwind and headed out. At this point, Dalton and I left Isaac behind and pressed on. I could tell that Dalton was starting to lag a little bit. He told me that he did 50 miles as his biggest training week due to work and other obligations (which in normal circumstances I totally understand), but I also knew that I likely came in with better training (not to mention the abuse my legs got on the mountains I ran all summer long). It is those miles that will make a big difference later in the race when your body is completely wiped and depends on the deep reserves you get from tumultous training.

Pressing on, the rain was really starting to come down now. It dumped us on a road and this seemed to last forever. The rain was making the dirt roads super slippery and muddy. I couldn't really see Dalton anymore. This gave me some motivation. When I pass someone, I usually don't like for them to pass me again. Although I understand a runner can easily hit a high and move quickly, I think not getting passed shows that I am controlling my pace and am comfortable. That happened to be the case in this race. Once I left Dalton, I never saw him for the rest of the day (other than passing each other on the out-and-backs).

At this point my liquids were almost completely dry. Most of the aid stations were 6-7 miles apart. This one felt longer. I kept going and the rain kept coming down and my clothes were completely soaked. After going over a few more windy roads, I ran into a plant that gave me these brown balls that stuck to my shorts. I was plucking those off and laughing as I could see the aid station up ahead. I got in and Mark gave me the Lemon Tailwind (switched out the Orange). I was just over 5 hours in and had done 31 miles. 

After getting my stuff, it was time to head back (the course goes 31 miles out, then 31 back. Then you have to do 19 miles out and then 19 miles back on the same course). This was great news. I was now done with the long out. Moving on from here, it was more muddy dirt roads. I could hear cheering in the back so I knew that Dalton had made it in. This is when I popped my first Tylenol and put my earbuds in.

Getting to listen to music for the first time was a huge pick-me-up. Although I sincerely appreciated Dalton's company, I was excited to stay in my own world and see what I can do from this point forward. Pressing on, this section was very short. Maybe 3 miles. I found that I was already back at Inn at the Woods. This also was a huge motivation.

I was now seeing a lot more runners coming in from that way. I went, checked in, and then headed out. I would not see this aid station for the duration of the race. As I headed out, some runners were yelling at me so I took my earbuds out and they said I was going the wrong way. I explained to them that I already went out and was now going back and they were shocked and felt bad for stopping me. They met well and it made me laugh.

My hip flexors were being super babyish all day. From mile 10 they were in revolt. It's like they didn't want to work. I swear the body knows what it's about to endure and just rebels (something very similar happened at Pinhoti 100 years ago). However, I told them mentally to deal with it and press on. I was heading back to Lily. I was passing more runners and were high fiving and wishing each other well. It was motivating to see others out there, doing the same stupid thing that I was.

Getting into Lily I was feeling pretty good. Mark had my bottles ready and I got them and headed out. I was probably spending less than 2 minutes at every aid station at this point. Next step was Wausau. I was really beginning to notice just how much damage the rain had done to the trails and how muddy they were. There were also a good number of bridges between here and Wausau that were quite wet. It took me back to my days living in the Pacific Northwest and all of the bridges there. I was also admiring how many ferns were in the woods and how incredibly dark the forest was. I was half wondering if I would need a headlamp in the middle of the day the forest was so thick with trees and the sky grey from the rain.

Moving through this section I made it back to Wausau. This was now mile 49. Almost halfway. I got my stuff from Mark and headed out. I didn't see anyone on this section and I was completely alone as I was making my way to the next one. I learned that I was in the lead. I wasn't entirely sure what happened to the person in front of me, but I imagined something did (I later learned he twisted his ankle on a root). Speaking of roots, I was starting to realize just how many there were. 

This section reminded me a bit of a flat HURT course (which maybe is offensive to HURT). But the roots were incredibly thick. They're not like the ones at Mohican where they come a little off the ground, these ones are well above the ground which makes running over them incredibly challenging (plus, not to mention the rain had made the trails super wet and muddy at this point).

Pressing on, I got into Alumni. I got my stuff and now was heading to the 100k finish. I was super happy with myself that I was also in front of the 100k leader. Although this is more of a local race and doesn't draw super competitive folks, it was still a cool feeling knowing that I could have won the 100k here, too. This section starts on a road and then dumps you in the woods where you go over a section of deep roots and mud and then it turns into rolling hills. I pressed on and could see the lake which is where we started. I followed this for a while up and down the rolling hills and made it to the start/finish. 

Admittedly, I was a bit jealous of the 50k runners who had finished and were done for the night. I still had 38 miles to go. I could definitely feel my legs at this point. 

I saw Mark, got my Orange Tailwind and headed back to Alumni. By this point, I took the headlamp although I felt I could get there without it. About 20 minutes from leaving the aid station I saw Dalton and his pacer. I thought he looked pretty good here. We exchanged pleasantries and I pressed on. I probably had a 40-50 minute lead on him by this point. Getting closer to Alumni (mile 69), I passed the third place guy as well and we also said "hello." Getting to Alumni felt great. I popped another caffeine pill and pressed on after Mark gave me the bottles. 

These next few sections would prove to be the worst. My headlamp was on at this point and I was passing a lot of runners who were heading to the start/finish. The roots were really starting to play a tool on the body at this point too. Usually I remember landmarks or things, but because these woods were so thick and the roots so plentiful, I couldn't really remember anything about this. Even the wooden bridges I frequently had to go over I couldn't remember which section and how many there were. Some were falling apart or moving when you stepped on them or were tilted so you had to keep your balance so you wouldn't fall (which isn't always an easy thing when your legs are a bit fried). 

Popping another Tylenol I pressed on and eventually got into Wausau. The lady who worked this aid station was super nice. Mark gave me my Tailwinds and I was moving onto Lily (and the final turnaround). Mentally, for the last 38 miles, I was just thinking of 6 aid stations. So I was done with 2 and working towards aid station 3. It's so funny when it's daylight, the trails are dry, and your body isn't in shambles how different the experience feels when it's dark out, everything is a muddy mess, and you're exhausted. The hills on this section I definitely do not remember. But they were definitely there. I felt like I wasn't moving as well as I would have liked but just kept telling myself "one foot in front of the other."

Once I hit a bridge that was straight up, I was kinda laughing to myself because it felt like I was trying to walk on ice. Looking over at the mud, I was half debating if I should just jump in there and hike up (which is so self-defeating of the bridge). I opted not to and pressed on. This section felt like an eternity. Lots more runners were coming the other direction and we turned our heads away from each other so we didn't blind ourselves. Finally I could hear a generator in the distance and see some lights. At last!

I pressed on and got to Lily and the final aid station before I turned around. I saw Mark and told him that I was chaffing in the groin area. The rain from earlier in the day had likely worn off the Baby Bottom solution he gave me to put on at the beginning of the race. After stepping in the toilet and reapplying, I was gritting my teeth together as the sting was real. I walked out and told Mark that I am not drinking as much water now and to not fill that bottle up fully.

Leaving here, I knew I just had 3 more aid stations to go. I also knew this part would be mostly downhill. Since the 17 hour goal was out the window, I thought I was still on pace for a sub 20. I pressed on on this section and between the roots, rocks, and mud, that goal was evaporating faster than an ice cube in a blazing fire. About 45 minutes after leaving this aid station, I saw Dalton and his pacer. I was now probably an hour and a half or more in front of him. We exchanged pleasantries again and pressed on. 

I was jamming to the same tunes at this point (I learned about Cut Copy and am now a huge fan of theirs), and moving forward. When I got into the aid station, I was a bit livid. I told Mark that this section totally screwed me of my goal. He said that I was doing great and looked good, but I was angry. I felt like I practically walked that entire section as there weren't any opportunities to run it (at least for me). I told him the whole world likely caught up with me. He wasn't convinced of that. I told him I had just a half marathon to go and headed out. 

This section was just as brutal as the last. More roots. More mud. More walking. More frustration. My friend Jen in Washington told me to think of her if I drop an F bomb, and yes, I may have had a couple for her on this section. Consider that an homage to you, Jen. I also was passing a lot of runners at this point as they were heading out and I realized that I was quite a bit ahead of the field. I ran into Jeff (Mark's friend from Michigan), and was like "these roots are horrible!" He just kind of laughed as he let me around him. Other runners were like "you're so close, maybe half a mile." "That is not close!" is what I was thinking to myself. One person I said "I have never heard that before" and they promised that I was. 

I had to come back and remain calm. There was one bridge that I distinctly remembered from this section and I knew I was pretty close. When I got to this aid station I definitely let Mark know that I'm done with this course. He totally understand and said that I just have the finish to go. 

At least this section I knew I only had a couple of miles of bad roots and mud and then it turns into rolling hills (which thankfully not as much mud formed on those). I knew I'd be hiking most of it anyways but at least wouldn't be dodging all of the roots. Getting through the first couple of miles, I looked at my watch and figured I could get done in about 20.5 hours. 

Pressing on, I passed a few runners and hit the lake again. I knew that I only had a couple of more miles to go. The legs were done. Weirdly my quads weren't that bad, it was more my back from my pack and hip flexors that didn't want to cooperate anymore. I pressed up and down on these hills and was getting quite annoyed with how many ups and downs. I just asked the trail why it can't be flat or at least not make me go down just to go back up. I was over it. 

Moving on, I could see lights up ahead and the sound of people. The best sound you can hear after a LONG day in the woods. I jogged down the last hill and into the finish. I got through in 20:22, which was a new course record by over 2.5 hours.

I was relieved and proud of myself. Although I admittedly had more ambitious goals coming into this, I now totally understand how difficult this course was. I told Sid - one of the race directors - that this was one of the hardest easiest courses I had ever run.


A huge thank you and shout out to Mark for crewing me all day and night (and for chauffering me around Illinois, Wisconsin, and Michigan), Sid for the free race entry, all of the volunteers at the race, and those that followed along. As usual, the support of friends and family is all so very much appreciated.

s

As I reflect on finishing my 20th, 100 miler, I am a bit in awe that I have been able to go and see and explore so many incredible places on my own two feet. The fact my body has held up and performed so well over the years is not something that I take for granted. It really is a gift, and I'm so appreciative of it every single day. The people and places I've gotten to meet from my own two feet carrying me is so difficult to articulate of how meaningful that is to me.

In regards to "what's next?" - I'm not entirely sure. I'm going to let this one sink in for a minute....

San Diego 100

 

With a war going on in Iran and uncertainty looming in pratically every corner, I figure why not do something that feels like I have a tad bit more control on what happens? That was my thought process signing up for the San Diego 100. That, and the fact it's just a couple of hours away from where I live which requires no long airplanes, car and hotel logisitcs to solve, and no acclimitizing to a new time zone.

My friend Brad is a saint for agreeing to help crew me for this one. He also helped me at Oregon Cascades back in 2024. I also was looking forward to seeing some old trails when I used to live in San Diego. Despite being named "San Diego 100" it's a bit of a misnomer as it is about an hour east of the main city. Those who think this is largely running across the sandy beaches and is flat are wrongly mistaken.

It takes place at Cuyamaca Rancho State Park, Indian Trails, Noble Canyon, Mount Laguna, and my beloved PCT. It has about 13,000 feet of climbing and its completely exposed as you navigate the rocky trails. One redeeming factor is it got moved up a month from June to May. I remember pacing a friend here years ago for the last 25 miles and he said the temps got to mid 90s. Totally brutal on a course that gets little to no shade.

However, that wasn't my reality. We had a perfect mid 70 degree day. Still hot, but better than 90+. I was quite happy with the training that I had done leading up to it - I did about 45-60 mins twice a day Monday-Friday and then a long Saturday run for 3 weeks straight. I believe this provided a solid base for me. Nutrition-wise I was keen to stick to Orange and Dauwatermelon tailwind. More on that later.

Getting ready for the aid stations, I got all my drop bags ready. The work I had done a week earlier doing so was done in vain, as I wrote down the wrong aid stations. I guess AI isn't always accurate. That created a little chaos the day before as I was then redoing all of the drop bags and figuring out when I would see Brad. However, this got resolved. One strategy change was I traditionally have worn two tailwind bladders up front and a heavier water bladder on my back. As I was hoping to reduce the water weight, I opted to do just one bladder of each in the front and improvise later if that didn't work. One risk was I was going to try Maurten's - similar to Gu - as they are supposed to settle the stomach. I had never got to use them in training as they never arrived on time. More on that later. 

The race starts at 6 AM at Lake Cuyamca. It is a "lake" in Eastern San Diego County. Relative to pretty much anywhere else that isn't a desert, "lake" is used liberally along with "waterfall" in Southern California. Think of "lakes" as large ponds and "waterfalls" as a clash of decent sized boulders with a stream splashing onto them. Nonethless, it's a tranquil place to start and finish the race.

As anxiety runs rampant at the start, this was no exception of a year. The monstrous idea of running 100 miles really never settles in fully until you are minutes away from starting and knowing you won't be done for a long, long time. All of that certainty that I thought I was taking with me was disippating as I realized pretty much anything can go wrong running 100 miles. But then again, it can also go right. 

The first aid station was 12.5 miles out. This area runs through a lush, green meadow (I truly forgot how many meadows are in the entire area as a whole). From here you then connect to Stonewall Peak trail (I used to run here a lot when I lived in San Diego) and then you go down and down into the first aid station. There were about five or so people in front of me at this point. 

Here I used the restroom, restocked on my water and tailwind and headed out. The aid station member gave me great advice in that I should blow into my bladders while putting them back in my pack. I've always found them incredibly annoying to shove back in once they're full, but that little trick did help! She said she learned that at her last one and found that it helped her, too. I aways appreciate trail advice like that.

Moving on from here, we started to head to Cuyamaca Peak which is mile 19. I knew this was the section when the climbing would begin. I put my Rabbit hoodie up as the sun was coming up and it was now starting to get a tad warmer. I hiked up a hill and then it started to go smoothly down. I ran that and continued through a meadow until we hit the bottom of Cuyamaca Peak. This trail was incredibly rocky. 

Hiking up this, I was feeling fairly decent. Admittedly, the hike was harder than I was anticipating. However, I was glad to do this because this was always on fire control when I had lived in San Diego and I never got to summit it. It was the highest point of the course at 6,500 ft. Continuing on, I found this to peak to have false summits. Whenever I thought I was at the top it somehow continued to meander around a corner and continue to go up. Pressing on, I eventually hit a road and I could see a tower out in the distance. I knew that was the top and continued to follow the road. 

Getting into the aid station, I restocked my water and Tailwind. I had also only one Maurten left (I ate two earlier) and was worried I would need more calories so I asked them which Gu was the least flavored they had. My options were syrup (yuck), salted carmel (double yuck), raspberry lemonade (are you kidding me?). Syrup it was. Eating it reminded me of syrup in a bowl of water. Liquid glucose vomit. But I managed to get it down.

From here, it was back down the way we came and then you make a sharp turn. I was following a guy in front of me who was going at a good pace. I chose to follow him. Running downhill is one of my strongsuits but this guy was going faster, so I didn't see a need to push the pace. This section was incredibly annoying. Although we were going down, we entered this bushy forest with limbs that went straight for the eyeballs, and if that didn't work, they ensured your foreheed at least got banged up. "Midget Downhill" is what I'll call it because if you're under 4'10 you would have thrived on this trail. I didn't and had a couple of select words for the shrubs when I finally exited their forest.

I could see the guy in front of me and he was slowing down a bit. I caught up to him and learned that his name was Jamaal. He had run this course before in the summer and was telling me how much cooler it is this year, though he did admit that it still won't be easy. This part of the day was starting to heat up. We caught another runner and all came into Green Valley together. This was mile 29.

This was the first location I could see Brad. I changed out of my long sleeve shirt into a short sleeve, grabbed my giant hat and sunglasses, and got my fuel for the next aid station. I was really appreciating how much lighter my pack was from previous races.

From here it is seven or miles to the next aid station. It is just a water aid station with no aid. This was an area that I excelled on. The other runners got out before me but I could tell that I was going to be a stronger hiker. I started to catch up to the one and he pulled over as he tied his shoe. I never really saw him the rest of the race. I also continued on and could see Jamaal up in the distance. I passed him and really caught a wind. I did pop a Tylenol around this section and continued on.

It was a lot of rolling hills with fantastic views and then you go down into this ravine. This trail was very narrow with lots of foxtail that brushes up against you. Foxtail has an incredible propensity to stick to anything they can get their needles on. They were quite successful on this trail. My socks and shoes were littered with foxtail. Here is also where you cross a stream. There was no way you couldn't get your feet wet so I went ahead and just dunked mine in.

From here, it was up a slight hill and then down another and then up and over the corner was the aid station. Here was manned by the Ice Brothers. There were two of them with very upbeat personalities. I could tell they wanted to bro it up as they filled up my water and tailwind bladders. It felt like if they had their way they would have pulled up a chair and poured me a cup of coffee and talked my ear off. Super friendly. They did however ask if I wanted to put ice in my big hat. Shockingly, I have never done this before. It was late morning at this point and I figured that sounded quite nice. They put probaby 10-15 cubes and I left the Ice Brothers feeling very chill and cool. Literally. 

The next aid station was Sweetwater at 41 and another place I would see Brad. This section was marred with a fairly decent climb where I encountered a gopher snake and really started to feel the heat of the day. Although 75 isn't particularly hot, above 5,000 feet with no shade does take more out of you than maybe initially expected. At least it did for me. Coming through here, I then crossed a road and followed a trail that was a slight uphill - my favorite type of terrain. I did more hiking here than I would have preferred, but I did eventually make it into the aid station and saw Brad.

The heat was starting to get to me a little bit. Shortly thereafter I could hear others come in, too. I got more ice for my hat, refilled my things, and headed out. I wasn't loving how I was feeling but I was hoping it would get better as I pressed on. 

The next 24 miles would prove to be the worst. Not only wouldn't I see Brad until 64, but these were the longest, hottest, and most brutal sections. Leaving Sweetwater, I ran through a meadow that was a slight uphill. Nothing crazy. Then it started to go a little more up, descend into this ravine, and then it was up, up, up. I pride myself on being a somewhat decent climber but the lack of shade and incessant beating of the sun wrecked me. Most of my training had been done in 40-60s as it's not been as warm where I lived, so I was also not acclimitized to running in the heat either. I was quite lightheaded and even wondered if I was going to pass out from it. 

Continuing on, this section I felt like a slug. I got to the top and, not surprisingly, I could see someone behind me. "Great" I thought. Of course it made me ponder how many others were behind this guy? Pressing on, I did quite a bit of hiking. I was getting extremely low on fluids and I knew I had a bit of a ways to go. For some reason the guy who caught up to me disappeared. Strange, considering that I was walking most of this. However, he eventually caught up and told me that he is from San Francisco and not used to the elevation. He asked how I was and I told him that I was out of fluids. He very kindly offered some water to me as we were still a mile from the next aid station. I uncomfortably took some after he insisted numerous times that I should as "we are in this together." Michael was his name (which I had actually got earlier). 

He told me that this was his redemption run as he got to mile 70 a few years ago and didn't finish. He wanted to get to the end this time. Almost immediately after telling me this he projectile vomited off on the side. Like three times. I was like "do I stay here and babysit or go on?" Feeling a tad horrible, I continued on as there isn't much I could have done. At least for myself, I want to be alone if I'm puking my guts out, not explain to someone why I'm puking. Never will I forget the wonderful wisdom I received from a runner's pacer a few years ago that was like "it's really important to keep food down" as I puked my guts out. That was probably the smartest thing I have ever heard.

It didn't matter much for him though. He seemed to bounce back like the Energizer buddy and go past me. I admire his ability to quickly recover from that, and it makes me wonder if I'm just a total baby and put more of a mental hurdle in my brain when it happens to me. Something that I would get to test out a bit later on. 

Although I took his water, it tasted very off. Like, not good. But it is fluids and that's what I needed. I death marched into the aid station and Rich, one of the race directors was there. I refilled my water and was told the next one was only two miles away. Michael had already disappeared. I ran down the pavement for two miles straight and got into Hammer's Hideaway. 

This aid station was stacked with volunteers. I guess this was a "fun" aid station, but it was the total opposite for me. I was still recovering from the lack of liquids and trying to mentally get back into a good frame of mind. The volunteer approached me like someone riding the thrills of an amusement park as I felt like a mourner at a funeral. Not exactly a great energy combination. So much of effective volunteering -in my option - is reading the room and taking appropriate action. 

This guy told me that I looked a bit disheveled and asked if I was as salty on the inside as I was on the outside. I wonder how many dates this guy secures with these pick up lines. I guess this was his way of asking if I needed salt. The devil horns were now starting to poke through my hat. Admittedly I probably wasn't the kindest, but I don't think I was rude. I simply was having a low and didn't appreciate the lack of awareness that I'm not drinking beer and relaxing like the rest of them (though they did offer me a beer).  I told him the last segment was brutal and I just needed to restock my tailwind and water and press on. Another volunteer asked if I wanted a beer and I told them I don't think that was a good idea for the state that I was in. They then proceeded to tell me that this was the lowest point in the race. What a joyful aid station this was!

Leaving here, I could see Michael was sitting in a lawn chair here. I got in and out. The first part was exposed and rocky, but nothing wild. However, my calves started to cramp. Like hard. It was convulsing and freezing up when I put pressure on it. Very debilitating. I wasn't getting enough salt and electrolytes. I walked it off. This section was a 3500 foot climb up Noble Canyon. 

I could see Michael coming up from behind but I took a tylenol earlier and I could telll that was helping. I marched up and started the ascent. I never really saw Michael here. The good news is this climb at least had some shade from the trees and wasn't as brutally hot. I was moving better on this climb than the one before.

I continued up and eventually summitted the top. It was here that my stomach was really starting to feel it. The next thing I knew I puked on the side. This was the first time this has happened since three races ago. The issue is the sun took more out of me than I anticipated and I wasn't getting enough water. The tailwind was mixed too strongly and I couldn't stomach it. Basically it turned into another death march with no calories. I pressed on until I could hear loud sirens ahead. Penny Pines. The music was SO loud here I couldn't hear hardly anything. I took some broth at this location and popped a caffeine pill and marched out. I could see Michael coming in. I asked how he was and I think we both were in similar states of minds.

The next section was 5 miles to Meadows (mile 64). Thankfully the sun was going down and we were up at 6,000 feet again at Mount Laguna. I walked a bit as I ate some food. I forgot how stunning this part of the country is. Meadows everywhere. So wild to be in a desolate desert and then atop a climb are lush, green meadows. This trail took us on a very narrow one that felt a tad like bush-wacking. I didn't see a flag for a while and was now growing concerned that I somehow missed the trail (or worse, someone vandalized the flags which has happened in the past). I called Brad and he said that I was still on the course.

I should have been much faster on this part, but doubt was settling in. I chose to ignore it and press on and trust that I was going the right way. A group of women runners were coming and I asked them if this was the right trail and they said that it was. That boosted my confidence. I continued on and could tell that I was now entering the aid station. Seeing Brad was a huge uplift! This was definitely the worst section of the race. Hot, exposed, and lots of mental hurdles to get over but I had finally made it to 64. 

Brad got me my things and I grabbed some soup and some Oreos. I could see that Michael was also coming in. With the sun now almost completely down, I grabbed my headlamp and headed out. This area is so beautiful. I regret not capturing a pic, but there was a beautiful bridge that the Biker's Assocation put up. It felt like a bridge in heaven with the meadows and the way the sun was setting. Stunning.

The next aid station was just 6 miles up. I hit a huge high here. I think the caffeine pill was kicking in and with the sun going down it was getting a bit cooler. A cool draft blew and I was wondering if I should have put on my long sleeve, but I ultimately chose correctly to stay in the T-shirt. About halfway on this section I put on my headlamp. I could tell that I was gaining calories from the Oreos and the soup. I decided to try to take a Maurten and that resulted in immediate dry heaving. Clearly this was a contributing culprit to my puking earlier. I didn't finish it and shoved it back in my back.

From here I got to Red Tailed Aid Station which is mile 70. I saw Brad again and got my things and pressed on. This section I felt really strong on, too. It seems that maybe I'm turning into a night runner? It was fairly runnable. I never heard Michael coming into the other aid station so I could tell that I was putting some distance on him. My stomach was feeling weird, but I couldn't puke. It was just twisting.

I got to the next aid station and they had these really inviting lights in the woods. I told them that my stomach was acting up and they said to just please not vomit on their food on the table. I thought to myself that would be a fun way to eliminate competition - just destroy their calories as they come in defeated. I got some more soup and oreos and headed out. I basically stopped drinking the Tailwind at this point and was on life support calories.

The next aid station was back to Penny Pines at 80. Before getting there, I had to pull over to use the restroom. This was partly why my stomach was hurting, but it didn't fully get better. This downhill was cruel. We were now on the PCT and I knew exactly where this was at. It was rocky and it was a bit challenging to run it. The key at this point was to maintain and not get passed. I knew the leader was a way's ahead, so I just wanted to secure where I was at and I felt strong enough to at least do that. Not getting injured was top priority.

Getting back into Penny Pines they were quite welcoming. I could hear the runners get in Penny Pines 1 (they share an aid station) and I was SO glad that I was at 80 and not 55 like most of the ones going in there. They asked if I wanted to take a seat and I told them I won't get up if I do that. They then asked how the course was and I told them that I got a bit lost heading into Meadows, and they asked if I downloaded the course. I flashed my $30 Timex watch and that gave them all a great chuckle. Most runners are quite religious with their data and mileage and I've always been more of a listen to your body type. Although I like to time some things, I would get paralyzed with data and feel bad analyzing it as I know I would have run it faster at some point. I just need to know the time.

Leaving here, the next one was only 4 miles away. I pressed on and passed Garnet Peak. I remember my mom and I hiked this when I quit my job and packed my car to move to San Diego from Seattle with no job lined up. What a good time that was. This section was fairly flat and I popped my last caffeine pill for the night. The aid station folks said that I looked incredibly aware. I asked them if that is when they will pull me from the race. That gave them a chuckle. I asked how far back the third placer was and they said about 2.7 miles. That was perfect. I had really put some distance on Michael - or whoever was back there. 

Leaving here was an amazing section of the PCT. We had a full moon and this section overlooks the desert. A bit of a shame that we couldn't see anything as it was dark, but I could see headlamps flashing from behind. It's really cool to know that we are out here doing this very challenging thing and we can see visibility from miles away with our headlamps as there isn't tree coverage on this section.

After climbing a mile uphill it was practically downhill into the next aid station - and final one before the end. Here I saw Brad and the crew at 91. I got some more soup and Oreos and gave Brad some of my Tailwind bags as I was no longer using them. Pressing on from here, I got maybe three quarters of a mile and then my stomach struck again. I literally sharted. Awesome! Love that. Pulling over, I took care of that as best I could.

I guess the body is always fighting and figuring out how to take on the stress of 100 miles. The final section was rolling hills. All fairly runnable. I kept looking back and didn't see any headlamps. My back was really starting to tighten up a bit, too. However, I pressed on and told myself I was almost to the end. I could see lights out in the distance and I knew that the end was near. My goal coming into this race was arond 20 hours. Seeing my watch, I knew I could maybe duck under 21 hours. I ran as hard as I really could and finished in 20:54. Although I didn't fully hit my goal, I was very glad to still hit 20 hours. I knew that there were easily areas I lost a lot of time and that goal was achievable. Also grateful to be able to have the longevity in this sport. Finishing 2nd overall and being only one of 12 to finish under 24 hours felt like quite the feat.

Finishing this one was special in that I got to revisit a lot of the trails I used to train on regularly when I lived in San Diego. I also never had horrible mental battles as I have in the past. I think my preparation and training really paid off here. The nutrition is something I'll have to keep experimenting with, but I'm happy I tried something new and improvised - much of life when it throws curve balls at you, which seem to be quite regularly these days.

Thanks to those that followed along. Your support means a lot to me! Never do I feel alone when I'm out on the trails, though it is a very isolationist sport. The kindness of Brad to forfeit his entire day and night, Michael for showing true sporstmanship and kindness when we both were at lows, and the time the volunteers gave will be remembered from my times on the trail. Until the next one!

Happy Trails.