Back in 2012, when I was feeling bored with my time after having just moved out on my own, I ended up hanging out with a few random internet strangers and colleagues who got me into trail running. These folks were terrible influences on my life - I had trouble keeping up with geezers on 6km runs and lacked the appropriate gear for this new sport, which cost my wallet dearly. But slowly and methodically - my weekly volume increased along with my endurance and capacity to take no shit from my legs. Folks told me that with enough practice, I could get to participating in these highly esteemed lottery-entered races full of cursing and minced oaths.
Then on one fateful day prior to the 2014 Canadian Death Race, my entire corporate team realized it took place over the August long weekend and backed out, leaving me to run the entire thing by myself. I had told myself I had no business chasing after Western States Endurance Run (WSER) tickets because it seemed like an overly onerous endeavor, so the only reason I was running this race was because my company had effectively comped my entry. The race management saw my name on every leg, ported over my relay entry to solo and I ran it a few weeks after pushing my max race distance to 50k at the Calgary Marathon. It was messy as fuck and I don't remember much of it, but I got my first ticket to WSER at that race because I made the cutoff by half an hour.
I learned you could hang on to your tickets and double them by running qualifiers in successive years as long as you kept it consecutive, and alas - this is how that story finally ends.
Eight years of deliberately chasing qualifiers in the most inconvenient places (because doing it back home was sooooo mainstream) and seven lotteries later, my name was finally pulled for the 2022 WSER. I already had Hardrock on the docket for 2022, so having a gnarly no-pole 100 miler three weeks before was all kinds of gypsy curse levels of bad luck, depending on how you looked at this. (Of note was that my name was also drawn for the waitlist, as if the universe was confirming that this is the way.)
I certainly don't run like I did eight years ago, but training for this super condensed race season was planned to be similar to previous years -
- Jan - Apr: Lay low on both volume and vert. Doesn't make sense to be in a hurry to die.
- For the most part, this was accomplished. I had a monthly ultra-distance run but volumes were typically in the 21.1-30k range.
- Good Friday Prairie Mountain repeat day: despite this not really being relevant to WSER, I planned to spend 24h out on a 3.5km/7xxm D+ hill to get one last hill climb before focusing on endurance.
- Like every other year I attempted this, a massive snowstorm the day before, plus idiot hikers with no traction buttsliding their way down the hill reduced my ability to safely go past 7 repeats, but I still had a 5000m D+ day in less than 50k.
- Run for the Braggin Rights: With the exception of Bighorn, I traditionally throw down a 100k race a month-ish prior to a 100mi effort. But given high gas prices, I elected to just make it a fun run this year.
- done in 13:27 but 20 of those minutes were sitting in my car munching on candied ginger after a completely dehydrated middle loop.
- Inner city 40k trail run with a post run sauna: I linked up a ton of my Wednesday night run group's routes together from my house to kill some time while someone dropped off a sauna on my driveway.
- I got 1900m of D+ on the run but jumping in and out of 70-110°C heat was exactly what I needed during that weekend of rain.
- Extended taper at Tahoe 200: while I traditionally keep my tapers as short as 5 days, this year I elected to crew and pace three (yes, 3!) runners at Tahoe 200 the week before the race so I ended up having a 10 day taper.
- I ended up volunteering at least 20h in various shifts during this spell for some extended time on feet, so let's just say my sleep quality wasn't really there. I managed to get some deep sessions in involving drinking 2 cans of Trader Joe's Boatswain DIPA each night, but this was not ideal.
- I also discovered the condition of Tahoe Lung, which is when you snort up a whole bunch of granite dust and maybe radon from rocks above the east side of the lake and your breathing goes completely to shit.
My goals for this race were as follows -
- sub-28h. If this was my only race this year, I'd burn all my matches all at once and gun for a sub-24 silver buckle, but this was not the time for it.
- sub-30h. I know the vibes at this event are legendary, but I would rather only come back for a pacing/crewing gig. It makes more sense for someone who would appreciate this race more than I do to run this race.
I traditionally don't race with a crew, but given the logistical nightmare associated with the point-to-point nature of the race, the Calgary-based folks I dragged into this race were
- kristy (crew) and rich (foresthill - rucky chucky pacer) - i met these two cool cats a long time ago and have been running with rich since the beginning of time, and they offered to help out pretty much right after the lottery results were announced.
- myron (rucky chucky - finish pacer): 7-year qualifier myron was in town to help out with the Stoked Oats booth, and figured he had some time to experience the course before he would run it himself in due time. I met this guy back at Miwok despite being both Calgary residents.
The High Country
WSER opens up with a 789m climb out of the Palisades Tahoe ski hill in the first 6k, cresting at Emigrant Pass at 2708m. I knew that surviving this race would involve not going balls out on this section, so naturally I only entered the starting chute with 5 mins to go at the back of the line. This was a mistake as I ended up surrounded by folks with vastly different definitions of douche-grade inclines than what I had, and effectively had to run on cambered terrain around these folks before I settled within a flock of various Canadian citizens and expats. The climb into the Granite Chief wilderness area was via a ski resort service road, so chairlift lights illuminated the way and the extremely long pain train leading up to the snowline.
these lights were made redundant by the second mile, as the sun came up blazingly fast. I reached the top in around an hour, greeted by a massive gathering of spectators who had been there overnight. traditionally this was snow covered being the highest point on the course, but for this particular race it was bone dry. dropping into the Granite Chief, the route turned into undulating-but-downhill old growth forest, with some muddy spots and the odd snowbank.
Our pain train had basically stayed together from the gap to the first aid station at 10mi, Lyon Ridge, and I didn't spend much time here besides grabbing two ginger chews as I could feel the effect of last night's DIPAs, and preemptively getting a quick sponge soak. Despite starting at Olympic Valley at 5°C, the sun was quickly heating up the day and combined with the lack of shade on the ridge toward Red Star Ridge, it was certainly shaping up to be a hot one. Red Star was only 6mi down the line, but by the time I got there I stayed a little longer to top up my fluids and tuck some ice into my hat and shorts. Once we departed, I commented to a runner I had been chasing since Lyon Ridge that he looked amazing, and what pace he was chasing - turns out I had been running with a whole bunch of sub-24h runners. Goddammit.
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| look at this dumb Eurotrash kneepump hiking technique |
The next eight miles was a net downhill to Duncan Canyon but exposure on the ridgeline made me slow down anyways. It went by quick, mostly by a desire for even more ice. My aid station loitering was now out of control (as in approaching 5 minutes, lol) as pickle juice shots were being served, and intrarun fueling was now completely nonexistent as I just had a huge desire to stay out of the sun like a vampire hungry for PB&J sandwiches - so I was effectively doing all my eating at aid stations.
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| bottom of Duncan Canyon |
It was only another 10k to the first time I would meet Kristy and Rich at Robinson Flat, but this would be marred by a long climb up after the first quarter of the leg. There were a couple of streams I jumped in, but I would be completely dry in 5-7 minutes. The heat was now clearly aggravating my stomach, so I was really looking forward to taking a longer break here with my crew. But because nothing is ever easy, the way into the aid station after the spectator section started was a net uphill. Jodi from my podcast appearance took my picture here once I sighted Rich, and he ran uphill while I walked it in.
Once I got here, I rolled my legs out, reloaded my salt tabs, changed out my Salomon Sense Pro's to Brooks Cascadias, changed out my socks, changed out my necktie for a larger ice bandana, inhaled an entire can of ginger ale, refilled my ice and then took a dump. My younger self would be kind of ashamed of the 10 minutes I took here but this was the hottest it had ever been in a race for me since.....Angeles Crest, probably.
The Canyons
Kaci rolled in right as I was leaving Robinson Flat, which meant that I was well under sub-24 pace. It didn't take long for her to pass me as my bandana was overloaded and started losing ice - I did think for a hot second to just jettison the extra payload and keep up, but common sense told me i'd probably end up with rhabdo/AKI in doing so, even though it was a 4 mi descent down to Miller's Defeat. I blew past that station towards Dusty Corners chasing after her but lost her pretty quickly. Undulation made this next section a bit undulating, until two girls showed up and I latched on at a respectable distance. Once the downhills started, a Toyota Tacoma also latched on to our pain train, so I closed the gap a bit. They asked if we should let them pass and I commented that if they probably couldn't go much faster than us without blowing a tire, and that's the story of how we got paced 2mi down to Dusty Corners before pacers were allowed on course.
Otter Pops at Dusty ensured the end of this pain train, and to further seal the deal - I realized that my salt tabs were still in my crew bag, so the next 37k would require some alternate refueling regimes such as rinsing my esophagus with undiluted pickle juice.
I was hoping for Kristy and Rich to have seen my salt pills back in the crew bag and detoured off to Dusty Corners to intercept me, but wasn't counting on it, so after deep throating two Otter Pops to chase after a shot of pure pickle juice, I headed even further down towards the old mining town of Last Chance. An informational sign on the road reminded me that Placer High School was still a hilarious 40 mi away, assuming I were to avoid all the single track - in reality it would be another 60mi til I got there. That being said, the single track was amazingly smooth here and I barely hiked any of it - except for this part where i managed to lose the soft valve of one of my flasks in the dust and had to backtrack 100m to fish it from the sand.
Last Chance was manned by the Stevens Creek Striders, so I knew I had a couple friendly faces from Tahoe 200 to look forward to here - I stuck around here a bit longer as I knew this was the last station before we dropped into the furnaces of the infamous canyons, so I took yet another dump and loaded up in salty snacks and ice before sending it downhill.
The first canyon is Deadwood, which drops 600m and then ascends a steeper 460m back up to Devil's Thumb. The drop could basically be characterized as neverending switchbacks towards a river that never gets any louder, but this run felt pretty comfortable as I managed to hit it after 3pm with the sun descending onto the other side of the canyon, and I was still decently cool. Only one person passed me on this section, but I reeled in two others on my way up to Devil's Thumb, which was home to a hot mess of folks seeking refuge and a few looking to DNF (who were told to hoof it out to Michigan Bluff). This was the first aid station they had broth, so I scarfed down two shots, murdered a popsicle, reloaded the usual stuff and set out to the next descent.
It was 4 mi to the bottom of El Dorado Canyon where the next aid station would be, and we would drop 800m more gradually on this section. I passed three folks right at the front and found an Aussie chick named Simone towards the end, and the two of us hiked together up the 5ish k/550m D+ up towards the bustling crowd at Michigan Bluff. We traded stories of our training and remarks about the ludicrous international field this year, before I had to leave her at the aid station for her to find her crew. This was the first spot I ran into Chelsea from Lethbridge, who was just leaving as I was entering.
The Divide
I didn't really want to loiter at Michigan Bluff as I knew I would be loitering at Foresthill to pick up Rich for pacing, so it didn't take me much time for me to chase down Chelsea on the descent into Volcano Canyon and reel her back in on the climb, but all of this would be a moot point once we hit the pavement climb just outside Foresthill and i could feel a blown blister on my left big toe, as well as multiple fissure cracks on both heels. I had never had this much foot trouble since the 2014 Canadian Death Race, which was the one and only ultra i didn't wear toe socks for, and somehow i had found the optimal amount of moisture to render toe socks completely useless. I made the most of this pavement section to the school before seeking a medic, who told me that the toe blister had exploded on its own and that medical attention was redundant, but Kristy told me to get in the fucking chair and get a bandaid. That 20 minutes at Foresthill was probably why I still have 10 toes when I write this.
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| ok, if i have to, i guess |
I also switched to my back-60k half-size-bigger Hokas before leaving on the California Trail section with Rich. Chelsea ran by while i got used to the reduced lug depth on these fat bois. It was three miles to the next aid station at Dardanelles, but I instructed Rich that we would be blowing by this one and hitting the one five miles after that, Peachstone. The sun set very quickly over the ridge, but temperatures were still holding steady, and soon it was just our headlamps in the dark of the night being chased by other headlamps in the dark of the night. We blew by the next 3 mi stretch to Ford's Bar to make the 5mi stretch at Rucky Chucky, but like every single ultra I've ever run, I warned Rich that I typically don't hang on to my wheels past 70mi.
Sure enough, the world's longest parade of runners passed me on the climb up to Rucky Chucky as my quads started shutting down from the vert of the day. We'd go 'shopping' at the odd creek crossing to look for any deep water I could soak my quads in, but this relief usually did not last for more than 20 minutes. I was getting frustrated watching the miles tick down but absolutely no audible trace of the famed party at Rucky Chucky and the fact we were going uphill en route to a river crossing across the American River, all while my ability to navigate douche grade fire road was nowhere to be found. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I managed to hear cowbells and music through the trees, and slowly descended in the dark towards the sound of some class 6 rapids.
The Far Side
I thanked Rich for the swing shift 36k - it didn't feel that long but almost a quarter of a day had passed. Myron was super looking forward to taking over for Rich, as he had a pair of shoes he needed to review for a certain running magazine that may or may not have required a giant puddle.
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| said giant puddle |
With my pace now hitting 4mph I tried to make things quick here, but this was compromised by the fact the past few aid stations now had super watered-down Roctane - I suspect this was because all the ice used to cool it off from the midday and now melted, so I had to mix my own electrolytes at this point.
I had been really looking forward to this crossing as my quads were on fire, and despite my hilarious ducklike waddling down to the river - it was exactly what I needed. I thanked each volunteer who had to stand in the water at midnight personally for being there while the at-times nipple-depth water felt like a giant cold hug from mother nature.
We were given a two mile fire road climb out the canyon to Green Gate as a means of shaking all that water out, and I warned Myron that the wheels had fallen off already so this portion of gently undulating terrain would be slow as fuck. Despite ceding my position to even more runners and pacer, I knew I had some more friendly faces 5 mi down the road at Auburn Lake Trails as I met a few of the Coastside Running Club personnel manning it while hanging out at the Tahoe City aid station for the 200. Sure enough, I was able to solicit a hilarious quad massage from someone there. It's not who you know, just how you know them or something like that.
The next five mi to Quarry Rd was more undulation, and a net downhill, but despite its low degree of difficulty, my exhaustion from the day was starting to catch up. It was nice seeing Hal again for the first time since West Highland Way, but after some time there for stretching I departed on a 4mi climb out to Pointed Rocks via the Cool limestone quarry, where I'd see Rich and Kristy again with my massage roller. Probably not even a mi out I asked Myron if I could lie down for 5 mins, and I found a lovely bridge on the fire road to collapse on. It felt like the nicest thing ever; not that its effects were tangible - the climb out was still a giant fuck you to my quads and this probably took a whole hour, if not more, to negotiate.
No Hands
The Highway 49 crossing marked 7mi to the finish, but I'd just be hitting Pointed Rocks at the 24h mark. My headlamp turned off shortly after the highway crossing as we hit the ranch, and I picked up my massage roller for the last time of the day. Myron elected to keep going on the last 10k as his running shoes were on already, and after a few minutes I waddled out towards the famous No Hands bridge across the American River. A few more folks passed me on this stretch, but I was resolved to just enjoying this last little bit of the course and being grateful to be in such an awesome part of the world.
Of course, there was more paved uphill to start, but once we were clear of Robie Dr. and hit the crest of Marvin Brook, I started galloping. I reeled in one other runner and pacer as Rich met us at the bottom of the hill just before Lubeck and I was running so fast he couldn't text Kristy I was inbound. Finally clear of all uphills on the course, the three of us sprinted down to Finley in pursuit of the next gaggle of runners, and overtaking them before the back half of the track. I saw I had a decent headway on 7am but I still sprinted to the finish so quickly the webcast commentators weren't able to identify me.
I was pretty happy with how this race turned out. If I didn't have Hardrock in three weeks, I definitely would have sent it out of Robinson Flat after Kaci and risked kidney failure, but this year is a ten inning game - and we're just hitting the top of the fifth. I definitely finished lower than I usually do at races in terms of percentile but with such a deep elite field, I'm content with my buckle color. (Which also may or may not look like gold under the right light.)
By the numbers:
- Placement: 132/383
- Time: 25:56:07
- DNF%: 21.4%
- sub-24%: 26.3%
- Distance: 159.13km
- Elevation gain: 5737m
Shout outs in no particular order of importance:
- Rich/Kristy, for actually reading the runner's manual for me and having this figured out to a tee. For not panicking when my tracker wasn't broadcasting but going into full stakeout mode instead. For hanging on accordingly despite the heat and the sleep deprivation. Any runner is truly blessed to have you both backing them up.
- Myron, for putting up with me at my worst, for telling folks the body on the bridge just up from Quarry Rd was not dead and had a pulse, for keeping my soul in my body despite sounding like I was done with life. Fingers crossed you get in next year and you know I'll be there to return the favor when you do.
- All the vollies - it's a 6:1 volly/runner ratio here and every aid station had someone run up to me to grab my flasks, even the ones where I just ran through. Thanks to everyone who kept me going, and especially to those folks who had to stand in the American River in the dark of the night.
- To the folks who got me into this stupid sport (especially you, Mike/VJ) - you were right. I don't think I'm the same after this run.
Stray observations:
- I have officially lost all shame in belching and farting around lady trail runners. #andthatshowimetyourmother
- I was so midpack the only animals I saw were geckos/lizards, but there were also a ton of birds.
- I was amused by the number of runners, including myself, hiding out at In-n-Out following the race.
- So it turns out my incredibly high HR last seen at Quicksilver was a result of an insufficiently lubed chest strap. Synchronization with the optical sensor on my fitness tracker occurred after the second time I got a full body sponge soak.
- Empty shoes as needed. One of my Speedgoats' speedlaces broke, so it's
running on the stock laces, but my impatient ass thought it'd be too much
work to empty it of any hitchhikers. My slow-ass pace on the tail end
was probably exacerbated in this lack of foresight. Foot care and keeping things dry is so important in this race.
- It's hard to say if the sauna training actually helped but at no point did I feel uncomfortable from the heat. I'd argue it doesn't make you faster in the heat but probably makes you immune to the discomfort.
- If left out in the heat, Squirrel's Nut Butter melts. It's easier to apply but I'd leave it in a cooler.
- Lube up your neck if you're using an ice bandana, otherwise you just look like someone tried to lynch you from the sides of the neck.
- I did all my shopping in Reno/Carson City; gas was approximately $1/gal cheaper than the CA side.
- We followed the Crew A instructions on the WSER website; I'd only recommend Crew B if you were running way faster and lighter.
- If you're thinking of using Greyhound for anything, my bus from Oakland to Truckee was 90 mins late.
- Stairs?
- The Aid Station in Auburn sells IvyX towelettes for $1.50 each.
- Just assume your stomach will go to shit. Candied ginger from Trader Joe's is where it's at.
- Before crossing from Rucky Chucky, ensure all ziploc bags for your snacks and tabs are closed.
- Fructose malabsorption is real. Back off as soon as it hits.
- Do not rely on the Roctane after dark, pack some powder once the ice melts as it is pretty much water at that point. By the time we got to Rucky Chuck I couldn't tell which bottle was which.
- That being said, Gu was a sponsor here so there was definitely a lot of stuff I bought pre-race that I didn't need.
Up next:
- Hardrock 100mi, 15-17 July
"Comfortable learning environments rarely lead to deep learning."
--Brene Brown
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