Race Report: The End [of the Beginning]

Like most things in life, everything is temporary.  
And like it is for most runners, distance running is just a crutch that you don't need forever.

This is the story of the confluence of these two concepts.

It's been a hot minute since my last race at Cocodona, due mainly to the combination of a terrible crewing/pacing experience there and a general burnout from putting together a ridiculous Ultrasignup CV over the last decade.  I picked Waldo 100k to requalify for Western States as I wanted to run the latter without the shadow of Hardrock looming over it like in 2022; however, life had other plans for me.  Since October of 2023:

• My company closed its Canadian office, leaving me without a office co-located in my city of residence despite having reported to a Houston branch since just before Western States in June 2022
• In February 2024, my position was posted internally for rehire out of Houston, despite not being told what significance this had on my current job.  Reading between the lines, I applied for this gig and was pretty much hired with no interview.  
• Because terrible timing is the essence of my life, I officially moved down at the end of May 2024, four weeks after I cleared all my background checks.  My elevation gain from training runs pretty much just flatlined in the two months prior to this race, as Houston is next to the ocean and has nary a hill.  

I know it's not impossible, but training for a summer race in SE Texas has its quirks - 

• There. Are. No. Hills.  I mean, there are speed bumps cyclists go to train for an Ironman......but the most there is for vertical gain are parkades and short staircases.  
• The temperature is eleventy bajillion degrees unless it's raining cats and dogs, and even then it'll be like 80-something.
• The humidity is eleventy bajillion percent, meaning that even if the ground is dry, your shoes will be soaked with sweat within an hour.  (This is even with me running shirtless right off the bat.)  As such none of my training runs in-state were more than 14mi, and my toe socks are starting to wear down quicker.
• This also meant all my runs were shirtless regardless of the weather.
• All them Albertan droughts do not exist - it rains a ton here.  And every time it does, it takes another eleventy bajillion days for the puddles to go away and the creeks to drop to a jumpable distance where you can clearly tell there are no gators lurking beneath the surface.
• And then while all that's happening, the mosquitoes have West Nile here.  

Given the above, the quality of my training pretty much just took a nosedive as soon as I moved here.  I did not want to waste the mileage to drive to a place with quality (lol) single track just to only spend barely three hours there of which the last hour would be suffering amongst the sun, heat and slow hikers, so I basically just hung out at a nature preserve 10 minutes from my apartment running fast 8mi loops on soft sandy loam, hydrated by handhelds because my racing vest would have been a giant sweat magnet.  

That being said, I did put in two hilarious trips to Colorado during this spell to boost my confidence:

• San Juan Solstice 50 Miler: Taking place three weeks after I moved, my first 50 mile race since Angel Creek back in 2017 was understandably not pretty.  Granted this thing bottomed out just over 8500' and topped out at 13,3xx', with 12,000'+ of D+.......but I finished just over 60 minutes from cut-off, 138th out of 287.   A sufficiently mid-pack effort, even though I felt like giving all my seaside ass' best.  It was, however, a good wake-up call for remembering how to run with a vest (i.e. maybe don't also run with a belt, and give your nine year old 5L pack a rest) and how much clothing I need at altitude in the summer (i.e. either a singlet or sunshirt but not both at the same time), and a good equipment check for all the gear I had to drag out of my closet.
• Two days after the race, I was hit with an almost paralyzing back pain likely from all the hard descents I had no practice for.  I didn't see a physio for it, but it was still a sobering experience of how quickly I've aged.
• Hardrock 32mi pacing + 22mi White River National Forest jaunt: 
• Three weeks after the shitshow that was SJS50, I found myself back in Silverton and literally on the opposite side of Hinsdale County within spitting distance of where I just was, pacing a Calgary friend on her first Hardrock attempt.  I got the 32mi section between Animas Fork and Cunningham Gulch, pushing her up 40 spots in 15h, which was crazy to watch as she started Handies 6h after my time in 2022, but we got to Cunningham only 30 minutes back of my 2022 effort.
• To top that off, I drove 250mi north after the race to see my buddy Amy in Steamboat, and we bagged the Devil's Causeway in the Flat Tops Wilderness just outside Yampa.  We had originally planned for 31mi but got forced off by the hilarious combination of an aggressive sheep dog guarding its herd, and getting squeezed by two thunderstorms approaching on two different sides above treeline.  It had been my highest-mileage weekend since leaving Calgary so I was ok with how this turned out.

into the valley of death.  see if you can spot that fucker!

Waldo 100k is an old-school ultra (23 years old!) taking place at Willamette (only one 'I') Pass ski resort, about an hour east of Eugene, Oregon.  It takes its name from a super-ultraoligotrophic, inconveniently-secluded decently-large lake not on the race course, but visible from most of the three major climbs, and has nothing to do with the character of the infamous children's storybook.  Mostly single track through inactive volcanic landscapes, this was advertised as "not a beginner-level ultra and participation in the race should not be taken lightly".  I entered the race lottery in January, thinking I would still be able to attain reasonable vertical gain during training commensurate with that of the course (11,000'+).  Sure enough, I got in* with my buddy Gary Williams (now residing in Washougal a few hours north on the WA side), and we made the plan to get ripped and slay this course by the summer.  

(* after the race I found out they give foreign runners automatic entry.  which made me feel shitty as I changed my ultrasignup profile location city well after the lottery.  but I digress.)

race week would be marred by the race course being enveloped by fires to the west and south, covering the area with smoke and pushing the AQI to 400+ in the afternoons.  as such the front half of the week was fraught with anxiety as the RD announced there would be a chance the race would get canceled up until five hours after I landed in PDX, and I dreaded the possibility of checking in my luggage, sitting at the departure gate and then getting said cancellation email.  unlucky for me, no email was sent until six hours after I landed, and the RD gave runners the option of rolling over entries to next year if they were not comfortable with running in a gradually improving smoke situation.  Gary opted for this option as he was asthmatic, so I ended up being the only one headed southbound on I-5 during the Friday before as I just wanted to get my WSER ticket and stop training in shit conditions for the rest of the year for races well beyond what I could comfortably train for.  

Fully knowing I was about to shit the bed in a field dominated by locals, the generous goals I gave myself were - 

1. Finish while wearing sunglasses.  This one is a flaky goal, given the forecast was due for overcast skies and a bit of rain, and we would be running in a ton of forest.  It was thus entirely possible for me to run the last leg with no sunglasses on and then absolutely get flashbanged in the face by the sun right in the clearing at the finish......but this effectively meant a finish time around 6pm-7pm/14-15h.  
2. Finish without any artificial illumination turned on.  This was slightly more tangible, with civil twilight due to commence at 8:26pm or 16h26m.  
3. Get a WSER ticket and rest easy.  This course had a 18h limit, which was also the WSER qualifying standard.

Start to Gold Lake

The race started at the god-awful hour of 4AM, with approximately 2h of headlight runtime planned.  I leveraged my now-CST oriented lifestyle to good effect, as this meant I would start the race at 6AM back in Texas, a half hour later than my usual start time for my early morning runs.  

Bagels and coffee were served at 3AM, and there was a general nervousness around the start line with no one lining up until 10 minutes before the start.  A simple countdown was followed by a quiet, moderately-paced ~2mi climb up the ski resort via a ski run, and we stuck to the woods through the Taits ski trail.  I only had my measly Petzl Tikka R+ that had all of 170 lumens as I did not want to risk losing my giant vape-battery powered one once I ditched it, so unfortunately I had the same issue as at TRT, getting blinded by the dust everyone was kicking up, and not being able to perceive depth because the light was too weak to illuminate shadows.  I mitigated this by creepily latching on to some chick just ahead of me, and matched her footsteps and pace all through Skyline Trail, down Skyline Creek and until RD500 before overtaking her once the route widened to a road, descending to the aid station near the Gold Lake campground.  

Gold Lake to Fuji Mountain

I had barely drank anything and it was still too early to ditch my headlight so I kept my stay at Gold Lake short, opting to preemptively pound some ginger ale, grabbing some PBJ sandwiches and a bag of Gu Chews before sending it up Fuji Mountain Trail.  Not to be confused with Mt. Fuji on the other side of the Pacific, the etymology of this mountain is not exactly known and predates WWII.  The sun went up shortly after Waldo Lake Road, revealing an overcast morning devoid of any of the prior day's smoke.  A new ski patrol friend from Corvalis, Joe, was working the South Waldo Trail turn, and he was a sight for sore eyes after a long duration of solo uphill grunting.

Upon reaching the Fuji Mountain aid station there was another 2x1.25mi out-and-back up to the top of Fuji, where Waldo Lake can be seen for the first time.  As such I was able to ascertain my position relative to the rest of the pack, and "decently mid-pack" was an accurate assessment.  I quickly dropped off my headlamp at the aid station, requested Union Carbide levels of Deet to be applied on my rapidly bitten exposed skin, and then sent it up to the summit where I was greeted by a view that was not trees.  Kind of a shame we don't get to run around the lake (22mi) but the view was magnificent.  

It had taken me roughly 3h to cover 13ish mi.  

Fuji Mountain to Charlton Lake

Pothole Meadow.  So named for what you find if you go off the single track.

After taking my first piss right at the top, I sent it back down to the aid station for more ginger ale and my first flask refill of the day.  I was passed by multiple trekking pole non-users on this section, leading me to realize that maybe this was going to be a long downhill.  I was happy with the flow on this bit though even though I could feel my stride shortening.  

I fist-bumped Joe when I saw him again for an extra speed boost, and it turned out he would be the last person I would see until the marshal at the Bobby Lake Trail turn.  Both these folks were superhuman - pretty much volunteering to just post up at a trail intersection while covered in mosquitoes.  It felt undulating but we were gradually descending in the shadow of Mount Ray.  A drizzle had started and thunder clapped in the distance, but being used to Texan humidity, I decided not to whip out my rain anorak.  

I didn't stay long at the Gold Lake Trail aid station either, which was situated on the other side of Waldo Lake Road - it was another 12mi to my shoe change, but I elected to attempt to leapfrog a few loitering racers at this point.  Of course, this favor was usually returned after a few more miles, especially now that the downhill ended and we were back on the grind towards the PCT.

I hit the Twins aid station around 10am, and I would have to be back in 17mi within 7.5h to make cutoff.  Plenty of time, but I knew I would be clocking 4mph if there was a shifty uphill.  This would not be the case on the downhill 6mi into Charlton, where I had my drop bag with new shoes, socks and my massage roller, along with 200mg of caffeine to close out a week-long caffeine fast.

Charlton Lake to The Twins

I arrived at Charlton at around 1115h, well before the 1400h cutoff, and promptly jumped into the lake to ice up my hips.  Probably burnt about 10 minutes here rolling out and flipping my Arcteryx Norvan LD3's to Salomon Ultra Glides, but I needed a bit of a break anyways from bagging half the course in 7.5h.  

Leaving the aid station with no pacer but an Otter Pop in one hand and cup of noodles in broth in the other, it didn't take long until we hit the north shore of the lake, where a lightning strike back in 1996 took out over 10,000 acres in a matter of days.  The single track on Lemish Lake ran through snags reminiscent of those in Halloween Town in the Nightmare Before Christmas, and it was trippy running through miles of forest, life slowly returning through gradually increasing blades of grass and trees........much like my cold legs, and I was able to shuffle through a second wind to the Dune-themed aid station at RD4290.  

My nutrition was completely off at this point as I had pretty much ran the last section without stopping, so I hastily grabbed some more noodles, broth, pickles, salted potatoes, coke and some sandworm ritual piss-themed blue drank that was pretty much liquid diabetes.  I leapfrogged a few folks here, but as we were slugging uphill back towards the Twins, I ceded my position once again to faster runners with pacers.  There was another solo runner from the PDX area that I had passed before 4290 who caught back up to me named Keith, and we struck up a conversation about how aligned our goals for this race were - just get a WSER ticket and go home.  He definitely took my mind off the 6mi of uphill, but I lost him shortly after we crested as he still had some downhill legs on him.  

The Twins to the Finish

We both hit the aid station around three hours ahead of cutoff, but now at mile 45, a medic freakily repeated a conversation I had with another SJS50 medic at mi47, (and one I had with Sally around that same mileage at Cocodona) inquiring about why I was limping and dragging my right leg.  I hadn't noticed and didn't feel uncomfortable running downhill, but it was a little unnerving having the same conversation at the same time at the last three races about my heavily unbalanced running form.  Probably should get that looked at in the off-season.  It was also clear at this point my salt pills were not doing anything, so I stopped taking them at this point  (I was also taking two every hour up until then).  

It was around 3mi backtracking on the PCT after the aid station, and I was fueled by the cheers of PCT hikers going to Canada.  Naturally once we cleared the Bobby Lake Trail junction, an uphill ensued but at this point I was happy to just walk for a bit.

Knowing the push to Maiden Peak would probably be 2mph, I kept my stay at the Maiden Peak Trail AS short, and hilariously double-fisting a cup of ramen and popsicle again, much to the delight of all the volunteers there.  Sure enough, it did end up being 2mph, and this next bit took 1.5h to grind out - although no one passed me during the entire section.  It was nice to break the topiary cover one more time and see Waldo Lake, but the window to nail my A-goal was starting to close.  Once again an out-and-back, I was able to see who was in front of me - and how much I was slowing down based on the gap between me and those who had recently passed me.  

After what felt like an eternity on the Leap of Faith downhill (but only probably 2 miles), I ended up at the last aid station, 7.5mi to the end.  I kept it short here again, but my legs were basically done at this point and I couldn't muster up anything more than a shuffle on the last three mostly downhill miles.  I could see sunlight peeking out in the distance from the far side of the ski resort, but I had to take my shades off as the forest cover got thicker as we descended.  I was passed by three runners only two miles from the finish, which made the sting worse.  

Keith finished only thirteen minutes ahead of me, but it still felt like I was moving at my mi230 pace at Cocodona.  That being said, I did finish without turning my emergency flashlight on, and there were still a ton of folks at the finish line.  

I'm not smiling because I can see the finish line, but rather because I can be done with training til the winter

Nevertheless, there are a bunch of silver linings that came out of this:

• Despite my lassez-faire attitude of running out of fucks to give - I improved my 100k time from Steep 100k in 2022.
• Even though I felt like a sack of shit, the finish line announcer made a big deal about me being all the way up here in the dead of summer despite being from Texas, and listed off my Ultrasignup profile while I was crossing the finish line.  Almost like a kinder inner voice that should get let out every so often.  
• Like Hardrock, this race is advertised as a "trail run" and not actually a race.  It's entirely possible I'm just picking the hard ones now, even though I feel like shit all the time, and measuring myself by a stupid bar.  
• If there was ever a time to heal and sharpen this axe - I think the universe has told me it is now.  It feels good to go back to basics and focus on running pavement until my glute med's are stronger and to rebalance my gait.  
• At some point, a medic will pull me from the race right before the 50mi mark to sort out my limp and I would rather not have that happen.
• Reading my TRT100 race report back in 2018 - it looks like most of the problems I had at this race were lived through this once already.  

Stray observations:

• I've only run one trail race in Canada since 2015, but I only switched my Garmin Instinct to mph/feet-denominated D+ six weeks after I moved.  My Vivosport is still set to metric though.
• There was a burrito buffet at the end filled with all the cookies and baked deserts in the world, but I had to decline as my teeth were hurting from all the Otter Pops, energy chews and electrolytes.
• If there was anything I learned from this race, it's that making decisions too early usually makes that choice wrong.  The RDs held out as long as possible, much to my chagrin, but the conditions cleared up just for the race.  

Notes for prospective runners:

• Flagging intervals vary (they did not want to overdo the PCT sections) but at no time did I ever feel lost.  There are very few intersections and no game trails.  
• There are marshals with RFID wands at the top of Fuji and Maiden.   
• I don't want to get onto a whole climate change rant, but this race is in the middle of peak wildfire season.  If this race was run either the day before or the day after it was scheduled, it would have been a completely different race.  I totally lucked out with the timing.
• Oregon 200, based out of Oakridge 30 mins west, was canceled for being in the forest next to us.  Seriously, just look how close the ski resort was to the Deschutes forest fire closure. 
• It's getting held earlier and earlier in August probably to skirt the fires.....but the fires are keeping pace.
• The RD for this race also does WSER.  Another board member is the RD for Quad Dipsea.
• There are so many coniferous needles on the ground.  Gaiters are a hella good idea.
• At no point did I start sliding on my Salomon Ultra Glides.  You could probably do this with road runners on a dry day.  
• There was an equestrian volunteer doling out water at the top of the Twins 1.5mi from the aid station at mi43.2 but I didn't need it.
• Bug spray.  All of it.  Bring the wipes for on-course reapplication.  
• There's kegs at the finish line.  

Up next:

• I will go see Amy again for a couple of pacing miles at Run Rabbit Run.  Not gonna lie, kinda nervous about the limp, but it'll be nothing as long as this race and I have time.  
• The current plan next year is to bag my WSER ticket at Bandera in January, and then take the rest of the year off from racing (unless I get into WSER and Hardrock again).  It is no longer conducive for me to train during the summer and for anything with more vertical gain than a a 9' flight of stairs, so it'll be interesting to see how this winter flatlands training plays out.
• I mean, it's doable and there are numerous neighbors who run hunnerds/two-hunnerds year-round, but the motivation to go through the discomfort is just not there.  

"Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”

--Bruce Lee