Sunday 25 September 2016

Tahoe 200 (or really 208 if you consider the “extra” miles)

Let me start by saying that it takes a pretty significant experience for me to do a “race report.” It's just not something I do for most races, especially since I am doing so many races lately. With that said, my first 200 miler is a good candidate for a recap. So many things happened during this race, and for future reference, it is worth jotting down my ideas while they are still somewhat fresh in my mind. I'm sure I forgot some things, but here goes.

So where to start? Let's start with the after...

I am now just over a week out from the race, and the short of it is that unlike all my other races (50's, 100's, etc.), this race really did a number on me. I did my first workout this morning, and I am still feeling pretty tired, out-of-breathe, and fatigued. I don't have any soreness or injuries, but I am still mentally tired. I am also still waking up in the morning with the feeling of my feet having fallen asleep. I'm used to "numb" toes after a race, but "numb" feet is weird. I know this will all pass, but it's definitely taking longer than normal for me to get back to feeling normal.

The before

Going into the race, I knew it would be tough. Looking at past times, my goal was 80 hours, with my reach goal being 75 hours and my fall back being to just finish. I intended to sleep at my 62 for about 2-3 hours and then again for about 2-3 hours at about mile 140. I would then push it to the end on about 5-6 hours of sleep. As you’ll see below, as the race progressed, I reassessed, and that plan went totally out the window. Another note is that while I planned to have my own pacers from about 103 to the end, after about mile 62, I honestly did not expect to see many other runners for the rest of the race. This assumption obviously also turned out incorrect, as I ran more than half the race with Ken.

We were also warned about the excessive number of yellow jackets on the trails this year. This turned out to be absolutely correct, and really annoying at times, but luckily I avoided any stings (Ken was stung 3 times – twice right before the race and once during). Moreover, based on conversations with crew from last year’s race, I was prepared for the first 62 miles to be very difficult (this also proved to be 100% accurate).

Finally, looking back, I am really glad I took printouts of the individual course section profiles, and which I discarded after each section, for reference. I hadn’t planned to do this. But in prepping my equipment for the race at Ken’s house the morning before the race, I saw he had done it, and I quickly made my own. These proved really helpful in keeping me focused on what climbs were upcoming when I was totally out of it later in the race.

And now the during…(as you’ll see, I’ve segmented this write-up by course section and aid station)

Miles 0-7 –


The race started at 9 am with a long 7 mile climb to the top of a mountain through the ski resort. Ken and I quickly jumped up to the front and hung out with several other runners during this stretch. Nothing too eventful happened, but we did pass a small lake, chat about the Bigfoot 200 (which took place 4 weeks earlier), and discuss how bad it would hurt coming down that initial climb to the finish after 200 miles. After a quick stop at the aid station (3 minutes), I was back on the trail.


Miles 7-18 –
Knowing that I wouldn’t see crew again until mile 62, I switched to a lager Osprey pack with a 2 liter bladder at the aid station. This was a really good idea because it got pretty hot during this stretch. In addition, this stretch was where the excessive DUST started showing its face.

I can’t quite recall how or when Ken and I separated on this stretch, but we did, and he jumped ahead. A lot of this section was Jeep track, and not surprisingly, I actually passed a lot of large Jeeps that were driving on the trail. This kicked up a ton of dust, and was the beginning of the end for the efficiency of my lungs and nose, and the health of my throat and lips. The dust was maybe 2 inches deep (almost like running in sand), and it just hovered like a constant cloud that we had to run through. It was also extremely dry and hot, which meant I couldn’t even drink enough to soothe my throat. And while the dust would stick around for almost the entire race, I think this and the next section were probably the worst and really set the stage for how my throat and nose would feel over the next 3 days.

The one savior of this section was that we passed a large lake about 1.5 miles from the aid station. I quickly dropped down to the shore with 2 other runners and doused my two buffs, my head, and washed off my face. The water was really cold and it felt amazing. After this quick refresher, I felt fantastic and ran to the next aid station in no time.

Rubicon Aid Station
Coming into it, I was actually planning to eat a bit at this aid station. Unfortunately, the bees were so bad, that I just couldn’t stand there long. Looking back now as I write this, I am now realizing that this decision is what made my trudge during the last 5 miles to the aid station at 30 so difficult. I simply did not eat enough here, especially for a 200 mile race. I filled my water, grabbed some bananas and other random things, and headed out after only 2 minutes. This was not my plan, but like I said, the bees were just swarming and landing all over me. I left this aid station in 19th place.

Miles 18-30 –
This section started out just fine, but ended as one of the worst stretches of the whole race for me. I was alone for most of it. And that was fine because I was taking it way more conservative than I would in even a 100 mile race. I do remember running around some really large lakes in this section that provided amazing views, but other than that, the only thing that sticks in my mind is how bad my right hamstring was cramping with about 4 miles left in the section. It was a painful slog, but I knew I just needed to make it to the next aid station (where I had a drop bag), eat some real food, and sit down for a couple minutes, and I would be good to go again. A bunch of people passed me during this stretch, but again, I was being overly conservative.

Tells Creek Aid Station
I came into the aid station, sat down, started eating and drinking (Nuun and Gatorade), and within 12 minutes, I felt as good as new. I don’t remember everything I ate, but I do remember grabbing a couple Birthday Cake Oreo Krispy Treats out of my drop bag: they were great. The quick slurry of Endurox also helped.

I left this aid station in 30th place, but I was feeling great and was now half way to (only 32 miles from) seeing my crew again at 62. And I knew as the race progressed I would slowly start picking people off along the way.

Miles 30-44 –
Heading out of the aid station, I was back to running the flats and downhills at a pretty good pace, and fast hiking the climbs. About halfway through the section, I caught up to a couple Europeans. I talked a lot with the woman (Debbie) from Switzerland. This helped time pass quickly, and we started moving at a pretty good clip. We had a lot to discuss: she had done Grand2Grand the year before I did it and also the Spine, which I asked a bunch of questions about since Garth is getting ready to do it in February. About 3 miles from the checkpoint at 44, it started getting really dark, so we all pulled out our headlamps (Friday night – Night 1). For some reason, Debbie must have stopped or something because all of a sudden it was just me and the other European that finished the last 2 miles together into the checkpoint.

Wright’s Lake Aid Station
It was about 8 pm Friday night (11 hours), and I felt good going into the checkpoint and was excited to get to 62, where I would see Vanessa and Eddy and maybe get some sleep (based on original plan). I stuck around here for 18 minutes. Just enough time to put on my long sleeve shirt because it was already starting to cool off, change the batteries in my headlamp, eat some soup/noodles and a turkey/cheese quesadilla, grab some salt caps from the medical personnel, and re-fill my water. Compared to most people, I was in-and-out pretty quickly. With the people I passed during this section and those still sitting at the aid station, I left this aid station in 22nd place.

Miles 44-62 –
I left 44 alone, in the dark, and I didn’t see anyone else for the entire section. So it was a good time to put some 90’s rap on sing out loud. Like I said, I felt good and had no problem running. I also had no idea how far Ken was ahead of me, but I did know he planned to stop to sleep for a bit at 62. So I moved a little faster in the hope of catching up at the aid station. The other thing that helped was that there was a pretty long stretch (maybe 4 miles) of downhill road running somewhere in the middle of this (the only road section on the entire course). I was able to cruise through this section a really good clip; I think I was running in the 7:30 to 8 minute per mile range.

As it got later into the night, it did start to get pretty cold, but honestly, as I’ve said before, my long sleeve WAA shirt is a total game changer for temperature regulation. Throughout the entire race, even when the temps dropped into the high 30’s, I never needed more than that shirt while I was out on the course, no matter how slow I was moving.

The other thing I did during this alone time (for the first time during the race) was to start running time calculations through my mind. It was still really early in the race, but I also knew that I was almost a 1/3 of the way done when I hit the next aid station. And at some point during these calculations, I somehow had the realization that if I really committed to it, I could probably pretty easily finish in less than 75 hours (my reach goal at the beginning of the race). However, it was going to require less sleep than I had originally planned for and lack of sleep would ultimately become the real battle by the end.  Ultimately, I decided that I was only going to get 20 minutes of sleep at 62, I would sleep another 20-30 minutes at 103, and then 2 other short naps somewhere between 103 and the end.

When I finally snapped out of this trance of calculations, I started wondering about the last time I actually saw a flag. In an abundance of caution, I pulled out my phone and checked my GPS location to make sure I was still on the course. In doing so, I realized I had a perfect phone signal, so as I jogged along, I quickly called Vanessa to let her know I would be to the aid station in about 2.5 miles and tell her of my new plan for working on limited sleep through the race. She also said that Ken had not yet come into the aid station, so I knew he wasn’t too far ahead.

As I came up the road to the aid station, some aid worker was meeting people and walking/chatting with them the final quarter mile up the hill to the indoor lodge. As we chatted, he told me that most people coming in were really beaten down and that I looked like I was in the best mood/spirit of anyone. What can I say? I felt great and was in a chatty mood. I also have a tendency to liven up when I come into aid stations, no matter how shitty I feel.

Sierra at Tahoe Aid Station
This was going to be a sleep station. I entered the lodge and sat down next to Ken who had come in just a little earlier. The first thing I did was clean some of the dirt off my legs, change my socks, and put on comfortable sweatpants/shirt to lay down in. In the meantime, Vanessa and Eddy started bringing me a steady stream of food: a burger, bacon, Endurox, soup/noodles, a quesadilla, and Ken/Allison gave me a flavored Pellegrino, which was amazing.

After eating and cleaning up, I headed right up to the air mattresses they had set up to try to get 20 minutes of sleep (Vanessa was going to wake me up).  I lied down, put my legs up on a chair, and tried to close my eyes. Nothing happened, and after about 5 minutes, Ken came up and laid down in one of the beds. I continued to lie there, but could not fall asleep. Next thing I knew, Vanessa walked up looking for me, and I just popped up on my own and said that sleep was not going to happen at this point. So I changed shoes, grabbed a couple last minute snacks, put my gloves on because it was now 3 am and entering the coldest part of the night, and headed out on the shortest section of the course.  I ended up spending 1 hour 17 minutes at this aid station, and I left in 20th place. I would later find out that Ken got 1 hour of good sleep here; lucky him.

Miles 62-70 –
As I headed out, I was really surprised by how refreshed I felt from just lying down for a few minutes. I’m not sure if it was, but a good portion of this section felt like it was downhill. I was running comfortably, and in what felt like very short period, I was already at the next aid station.

House Wife Hill Aid Station
When I showed up at the aid station, I found Vanessa sleeping in the car, as I got there quicker than she anticipated. This aid station was outside and the temps were really starting to drop, so I covered myself with a blanket and ate some soup quickly. I then grabbed a gel, loaded up on water, and prepared for the two massive climbs to come in the next two sections. I only spent 18 minutes at this aid station, and I left in 15th place, as I had blown past a few people in this section.

Miles 70-88 –
As I headed out into early Saturday morning, it was really pretty brisk, especially with the wind picking up as I began climbing the mountain. Still, I knew it would be light very soon, and I just pushed a little harder to try and warm up: it worked. About half way up the mountain I changed back into my short sleeve shirt because I was getting hot.

Again, I spent most of this section alone. But there were some really good view while climbing that kept me occupied. In my mind, there were three tough things during this section: (1) Right at daybreak, we had to cross a very large (.5 mile) wide open meadow. It provided some pretty good views of the surrounding mountains, but it was really cold, and I had already changed into my short sleeve shirt. I made sure to pick up the running pace a bit to get across as quickly as possible. (2) There was about a 5 mile climb before descending into the aid station that gradually got steeper. The first part of the climb was fine, but as it started to warm up and get steeper, my tiredness caught up with me a bit, and I had to slow down for a mile or so.

(3) But the worst part of this section wasn’t the climbing; it was the 1 mile descent from the main trail into the aid station at the end. Going down, I knew I would have to just come right back up after leaving the aid station. And it seemed to go wayyy down.

Armstrong Pass Aid Station
Finally, I made it to the Armstrong Pass aid station where I was greeted by Vanessa, James, and Juanita. It was great to start seeing more of my crew, and I knew that from here to the end, I would start seeing more and more of them as they began to arrive in Tahoe. I also knew that I only needed to do one more section before my pacers would start joining me.

At the aid station, Vanessa started going a little crazy in bringing me food. I have no idea how much I ate, but it was a lot. And it was a whole variety of things (fruit, chocolate, bacon, noodles, Endurox, Oreos, pancakes with syrup, eggs, and probably some other stuff). This was also the point when I started to notice the bad cough and sore throat I was getting from all the dust. This was also probably the last aid station I was able to eat mandarins (one of my favs during races), as the citrus began to burn too much after this.

While I was eating, it was great, but it probably was a little too much. As soon as I stood up to leave, I felt really full. Nonetheless, I started moving.  I spent 23 minutes at this aid station, and I left in 15th place.

Miles 88-103 –
About ½ mile back up the hill to the main trail, I passed Ken who was coming down into the aid station. As he passed me, I started feeling really sick from all the food and I bent over thinking I was going to barf. I didn’t, but I definitely was feeing crappy and wondering how I was going to continue making the climb to what was the highest point on the 205 mile course.

I moved slower than I would have liked, but I kept going and eventually started feeling better. Surprisingly, I even passed someone on the way up. As I finally peaked over the mountain, the views were awesome. I couldn’t see the lake from that viewpoint, but I could see miles and miles of Nevada countryside. I then began the long descent to mile 103.

As bad as the climb was, I think a lot of people might say that the descent/flat on the way down was worse. It was midday, and it was starting to get hot. Moreover, the mountainside we were going down was totally exposed to the baking sun, with little shade for relief. There was some serious carnage on that section. I passed a few more people, some of whom were really hurting and simply sitting or lying down in the shade provided by a couple randomly placed trees on the trail. One guy yelled out “it must be 95 degrees out here,” as he staggered along with his shirt off.

I have no idea how hot it was, but I do know that I like the heat. So this section didn’t faze me too much. I just kept running along and thinking how happy I was to have done so many miserable training sessions in blazing sun with Brady when it was over 100 degrees in DC. This was nothing compared to how I felt during those sessions.

As I was finally descending into the ski resort (about ¼ mile out), Ken came jogging up behind me. I slowed down, and we ran in together. At that time, little did I know we would end up spending pretty much the rest of the race together. At this point, my Mom, Uncle, David, Meli, and Stefan had also shown up and where there to cheer me on and help out.

Heavenly Aid Station
At the aid station, Ken and I went our own ways. Ken wasn’t going to sleep, but I wanted to try and sleep for 20 minutes. So I handed off my pack for them to fill my water and get everything ready for the next section (change headlamp batteries, restock my food, get my clothes ready, etc.), which would be one of the two long 20 mile sections going into Saturday night. I then hopped in the back of James and Juanita’s van, which had an air mattress, pillows, blankets, etc.: it was a great setup. Again, however, I laid there trying to fall asleep, but nothing happened. I think I might have dosed of for literally 30 seconds. Finally, I just sat up and figured it was time to get going again.
I changed my socks again, ate some food, got all my gear together, and it was starting to get chilly so I changed into my long sleeve. I then asked if Ken had already left. He hadn’t. And because James was going to pace me on the next section, the three of us left together. 




Before leaving, we snapped the one full crew shot we could get during the race.




I spent 52 minutes at this aid station, and I left in 10th place with Ken.


Miles 103-123 –
The first few miles of this section felt great, and James, Ken, and I moved along pretty quickly. Somehow, the decision was made that I would lead the pack and set the pace. And so, I started off running whenever I could. James also informed us that he had promised everyone he would get both ken and me successfully through the section. Subconsciously, this probably pushed me a little harder, as I didn’t want to slow Ken down if he wanted to go faster (although I’m not too sure he did). James definitely kept us occupied with conversation through this whole section. It was long, but he helped it pass as we talked about all kinds of stuff.

As we moved into Saturday night (night 2), the darkness definitely started wearing on Ken and I. On a couple occasions, I think both of us started wavering off the trail from tiredness. In those instances, we would just stop for a couple minutes to collect ourselves on a fallen log or rock. The last 5 miles of this section were probably the second worst for me of the race (the worst being the last 5 miles of the next 20 miles section, discussed below). It really did seem to go on forever, and finally, we both committed sleeping for 25-30 minutes at the next aid station.

Somewhere, with about 3 miles to the aid station, a runner came cruising past us looking really good. It was a guy Ken and I had been running with back in the first 7 miles that started off running the race in Vibram Five Fingers shoes. He had since switched to some other shoes and explained that it now felt like he was running on clouds. Whatever it was, he was definitely looking better than us at that point.

When we were finally about 1.5 miles from the aid station, James ran ahead to have our crew start prepping for us. Ken and I agreed to stay together.

Spooner Summit Aid Station
As we rolled into the aid station, I immediately headed for the van bed and Ken headed for the car. This time I closed my eyes and immediately fell asleep.

I woke to a bunch of people tapping on the windows of the van. I yelled to them to open the door because I was good to wake up. After yelling a couple times (and them apparently not being able to hear me despite me yelling in what I thought was a quit loud voice), I realized that my throat was totally f%#&’ed, and I couldn’t breathe through my nose at all. They finally opened the door and informed me that they all made the executive decision to let both Ken and I sleep for an hour, instead of the 30 minutes we had planned. And I was glad because I actually felt a lot better.

However, as I sat in the back of the van trying to eat and get ready to head back out, I started shivering uncontrollably from the cold. Covering up wasn’t working, so I hopped into the front seat of the car, and my uncle started blasting the heat, which felt great. I proceeded to eat a variety of things (definitely bacon, soup, a burger, and Endurox, again), change into my compression pants to stay warm, and mentally prep for the next section. I also blew my nose for the first time and realized I had an unlimited supply of dirt in my lungs and nose. And my throat was killing me, and I had developed a terrible cough.  Luckily right before leaving, my uncle gave me a handful of cough drops, which proved to be really helpful with my sore throat throughout the remainder of the race.

Right before heading out, my mom and uncle also enticed me by asking what I wanted them to pick up for me at Starbucks for when I arrived at the next aid station. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember the name of my new go to drink (a Café Misto). I struggled with it for a minute and then just gave up after realizing I was too out of it to even really care.

As I headed out with David for the next section, everyone told me that Ken had started up the mountain already because he was getting too cold and had to start moving. I spent 1 hour 42 minutes at this aid station (the longest at any aid station), and I left in 10th place.

Miles 123-140 –
The hour of sleep really helped. I was feeling super fresh, and knew that David and I would be able to catch Ken at some point during this section. Sure enough, after about 5 or 6 miles, we caught up. We also passed some other runner along the way.

Unfortunately for David, and me, we covered this section of the course in the middle of the night (Sunday morning). The views of the lake would have been fantastic, as we ran along the ridge running up the east side of the lake. But as David pointed out, that would have required us to reach this section several hours later, which wouldn’t necessarily have been desirable.

In addition, David said he actually liked the opportunity to run in the middle of the night; the stars were pretty amazing. We stopped a couple times and just turned off our headlamps to look up. We could also see the bright lights of Reno in the distance, which made for a cool experience. Who knows, it might have even convinced David to do another running/camping adventure with me sometime in the future! Moreover, Ken had previously run this section, so he filled us in on everything we were missing.

At some point, we passed a really nice out-house where Ken stopped for a few minutes. David and I kept moving, but Ken would catch back up after a couple miles.

As the Sunday morning sun arrived, the three of us descended the mountain into tunnel creek on a fire road. As a final twist, however, the course turned off the fire road and descended almost straight down, cutting off a large section of road, before rejoining the road. Talk about a quad-buster; it was impossible to not just run down it. Luckily, it was soft dirt, and it only lasted maybe 300 meters. But being that it was the steepest thing we had descended in the last 2 days, we weren’t really prepared for it. Eventually we hooked back up with the road and headed into the aid station.

Tunnel Creek Aid Station
As we came in, we were immediately greeted by Alison and the dogs just before the aid station. Everyone else was waiting for us down another small hill where Ken and I ultimately sat down to eat and hydrate. It didn’t feel like we were at this aid station very long, but the timer says we spent 50 minutes at this aid station. I have some pictures, but it was all kind of a blur. 

The things I remember: eating soup with bacon strips in it (made it easier to get down my sore throat), Vanessa preparing to pace us on the next section, Ken taking off his shoes to address an odd blister on the side of his heal (and him giving props to Garth for teaching him the proper way to treat blisters), and me putting draping a towel and jacket over me to stay warm while I waited for Ken to finish up. Other than that I have no idea what took 50 minutes.

Ultimately, we left tied for 9th place.

Miles 140-155 –
Looking over the course profile for this next section as we left the aid station, we knew it was going to be really challenging. Essentially, we had about 3 miles of flat (on a bike trail running alongside the road) followed by a climb that looked like it shot up about 1200 feet in a mile or less followed by a couple miles of descent, another long climb over a few miles, and then a long descent into the aid station.

Looking back, mental and physical fatigue aside, I am fairly certain this was the most difficult section of the entire race. Lucky Vanessa; she got to pace us on it!

As expected, the first 3 miles were relaxed. We then turned right into a neighborhood, and started up a really steep road. At this point, we started chatting about how great it was that the “steep” section was on a road. We also wondered how someone could drive up this in this road in the winter. Finally, as we passed houses with “for sale” signs out front, we started wondering how much the houses were going for, and even discussed buying a vacation home (haha). All was well!

…And then, there it was in front of us: the dreaded powerline climb up the mountain. As a side note for those that don’t know, every difficult race I seem to do has a section labeled “powerline trail.” This section, in every race, is always the most absurdly difficult section of the race.

This particular “powerline trail” was really really steep. Without poles, I don’t know how you could make it up without a struggle. With that said, this one looked to be only about ¼ mile long. The shortness of it was a relief, but was also misplaced because I should have recalled my review of the course profile, which said this section would actually be 1 mile or more.  And as we peaked over this first section, we could see that after about 300 feet of flat terrain, the mountain continued to climb up at the same degree of vertical forever.

We chugged along with Ken leading the way, me in the middle, and Vanessa following us. I obviously had a lot of miles already behind me, but in any case, this climb was really hard. I don’t know the exact grade, but it had to be somewhere between 20-30%.  I do know that some points, I would actually slide backwards if I didn’t dig my poles in. And at some point, Vanessa got a calf cramp, but she powered through it to the top.

Once we finally peaked, we all sat down for a couple minutes to catch out breathe and take in the view. It was still mid-morning, and I would say this was the best view we had of the lake over the entire 3 days. We then got up and continued up another short, less difficult, climb before starting out long descent.

Because the climb took so long, and took a good deal out of us because it was already getting hot (I couldn’t imagine having to climb this in the heat of the day), we consumed a lot more water than anticipated. As such, we still had about 10 miles left, and we had already gone through half our water. Fortunate for us, as we descended, we crossed a small cold stream where we stopped, dipped our heads/buffs, and drank using out life straws. The water tasted awesome and felt great! We continued on feeling refreshed and ready to go.


The remainder of the descent and the long climb up were pretty uneventful, although we did pass a couple ATVs that kicked up some unwelcome dust and Vanessa and Ken chatted about a variety of things, none of which I actually remember.

As we started the long descent to the aid station, we passed a couple hikers that stopped us for a couple minutes to ask about the race. Vanessa also started asking us what we wanted to eat at the next aid station because she was going to text Meli to ask her to pick something up. I honestly couldn’t think of anything that sounded good at that point.

But then it hit me, the one thing I did have a taste for was a 7-Eleven (or similar) slushy. I also thought that chicken nuggets sounded good for some reason. So Vanessa texted Meli and all I could think about was how much I wanted a slushy. Somewhere in this daze I rolled my ankle (the only time during the race). It hurt pretty badly, but quickly subsided, as I didn’t have enough extra energy to even think about it.

As we approached the aid station, James came running down the trail to meet us. Apparently, the Spot trackers had gotten screwed up and it (incorrectly) showed me like 3 hours behind Ken. He was worried, and was therefore glad to see us show up together.

We continued towards the aid station, and there they were, our highly desired slushies! Meli handed them to us, and Ken must have started downing his because all of a sudden he crouched down…”brain freeze” he yelled out! I took mine a bit slower, and it was amazing.


Brockway Summit Aid Station
At this station, I needed get some food, check my foot because it felt like I had a blister, and put my feet up for a few minutes. I quickly took off my shoes and hopped into a zero gravity cheer. I turned out, I had almost the same blister Ken had on the side of my heal. We tried to get the medical staff to patch it for me, but he was busy. In any case, I had everything I needed to take care of it. So while I ate, I instructed Vanessa and my Uncle how to do it. They cleaned and patched it for me, and before I knew it, we were ready to go again. I got my shoes on, finished my slushy, drank Endurox slurry, and ate a few last minute espresso beans.

I was pretty tired, and honestly could have sat there longer, but Ken and James (who was pacing the next 20 miles) were ready to go. Another runner at the aid station (who had previously done the race) also said to try and finish the next section before dark because the end can be tricky.  As I forced myself up, Stefan reminded me to put sunscreen on, and the aid station played “Eye of the Tiger” for us as we departed.



We spent 42 minutes at this aid station, and I left tied for 9th place. With 50 miles left, this was also the point when Ken and I agreed we would cross the finish line together.

Miles 155-175 –
I felt like shit to start this section. Ken said he felt good from the slushy. Knowing that we had 20 miles ahead of us, I knew the only way to get over how I was feeling was to push myself a bit. So I started running as I led the three of us. It felt bad at first, but before I knew it, the slushy and espresso beans must have kicked in because we ended up running at a pretty good clip for 2 to 3 miles. We eventually caught up to another runner, but his pacer was really pushing him to stay ahead of us. I just said to let him go and we would catch him later. Based on how far ahead of him his pacer was running, I knew he would never maintain it for another 50 miles.

We continued on with a variety of climbs and descents, slowly chipping away at the 20 mile section. We got in a few quick downhill runs, where James would run ahead and scope out the trail. This was good because it pushed Ken and me. I also mentioned to Ken at some point that it was very possible for us to finish this thing in under 72 hours if we pushed ourselves.

With about 6 miles left, we started a long descent into the aid station. Ken had run this section previously and said it was somewhat technical. So we tried to mentally prepare for it. Mentally, this was the longest/toughest 6 miles I experienced. It also started to get dark, and the miles just would not tick by fast enough. Ken tried giving me some chocolate espresso beans, but they were store bought, and so they only had like one espresso bean in a ball of chocolate. They did nothing for us.

It seemed to take forever. At one point, a runner passed up with his pacer as we sat down for minute. He offered me some caffeine pill, but I politely passed on the unknown pill. Ken and I pushed ourselves forward, trying not to fall asleep as we moved. The only thing that kept us strong was knowing that we only had 30 miles left after this. With about 2 miles left, James ran ahead to warn the aid station we were coming. Those 2 miles for Ken and I didn’t get any easier. It was especially difficult because the dust just seemed to hover in the air even without being kicked up. We were essentially walking through cloud and, as a result, we really struggled to get to the bottom. Finally, we popped off the trail onto a parking lot and followed some roads through the city to the aid station. Navigating the roads was very confusing, but luckily Juanita came to meet us and guide us through some stop lights to the aid station. Ken and I agreed we would sleep for 20 minutes before heading out for the last 30 miles.

Tahoe City Aid Station

I think I ate the best at this stop. I put down some chicken nuggets, a brat with cheese, some chicken wings, a little soup, and some French fries. After downing this food, Ken and I wrapped ourselves in blankets, crouched in our camp chairs, put our feet up on another chair, and closed our eyes. The blankets were over our heads and were actually propping our heads up. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but it felt comfortable at the time, and I quickly passed out. Those 20 minutes of sleep was amazing. I couldn’t believe how great I felt after. I sat up and yelled across to Ken to wake up because it was time to go.

After some last minute prep, we both ate some of my homemade chocolate espresso beans. I told Ken that he would notice the difference (compared to the store bought chocolate espresso beans, as mine are mostly beans with a little chocolate to hold them together) in about 10 minutes.

We spent 1 hour 7 minutes at this aid station and left tied for 10th place.

Miles 175-190 –
Meli joined Ken and I on this section. She was really worried about pacing us because while she is used to hiking, she doesn’t necessarily usually cover that distance (15 in just 4-6 hours). She did great and, by the end, she admitted that 15-20 mile half day hikes are pretty easily achievable. And she kept us occupied with a bunch of different conversations.

Only a few minutes in, Ken quickly realized the ultimate power of homemade chocolate espresso beans. We were both wired. And as such, we cruised through the first 4-5 miles fairly quickly, and would have continued on like that had we not gotten turned around for more than an hour.

It was dark, but we were following the race signs with no issues. There was a sign pointing right, with a flag 10 feet ahead in that direction. We follow the markers and end up in giant meadow (the meadow was extremely cold in the middle of the night by the way). We continue across the meadow past a turnoff the left (no markings) and re-enter the woods. It’s now been about ¼ mile and still no flags since the last one we saw at the turn. Ken says “are we going the right way?” So we stop and Ken checks the GPS map on his phone. Not good: we are way off the GPS coordinate trail.

At this point, we head back across the meadow to double-check the signs. They clearly point to the right, but we’re still concerned because it is totally out of line with his GPS. I then pull out my phone to confirm.  Mine is the same as his. What is going on here? We are way off the map. After crossing the meadow a couple more time to try and figure out where we are trying to go (I note that each time we crossed the meadow, I would move a little faster because it really was about 20 degrees colder in the open), Meli says we should just continue for a while to see if there are more flags ahead. Ken is concerned, however. So we end up going to the middle of the meadow, where that unmarked left turn was, and we follow that for a bit to see if it puts up back on the trail. We get closer, but still not on the right track.

Ken proposes leaving the trail and bushwhacking our way to the red line on his phone (haha). Meli goes off the trail towards the woods to scope it out, and suggests that it is not a good idea (haha). I’m kind of just waiting for someone to make a decision on what to do at this point. I don’t really care (haha). Finally, Meli convinces Ken that we should just follow the trail the original direction we went to see what we find.

In Ken’s defense, the prior 180 miles had been marked very well. It would be odd to not see a flag for more than ¼ mile. Anyway, after wasting about an hour (and about 2.5-3 additional miles), we continue on our original path. After almost ½ mile, we finally see a flag. And so, we wasted a bunch of time, but whatever, we were back on track. It was kind of deflating, however, as we were feeling great before all this happened. Luckily, Meli remained in good spirits and kept us going.

At this point we had one long 4 mile climb to the top of a mountain, and then a 4-5 mile descent to the aid station. At the top it got really windy and cold. We stopped for a brief moment to check out the stars and Ken put on his jacket. We then started our descent.

I should note that throughout this whole section, among other things, a major topic of discussion were the various “things” (hallucinations) Ken would see in the woods among the logs, trees, rocks, etc. On the final descent, this became the focus of conversation, as Ken was seeing all kinds of things. Meli would just laugh at him. The best was the one time we sat down for a second, Ken saw “A PIG-FACED MAN WEARING A TUQUE” as he looked down at the ground (that’s amazing – LOL). Meli walked over to look and laughingly told Ken he was crazy. She saw nothing of the sort. I’m not going to lie, I also saw a lot of stuff during this race; I was hallucinating like crazy at times (haha). But it was really funny that Ken was trying to get confirmation of what he was seeing.

As we continued down, both Ken and I caved and took a couple Motrin because our feet were really starting to hurt as we stepping on rocks. We weren’t feeling great, but we only had 15 miles left after this. After checking the profile for the last section, I told Ken we should just grab some quick food at the aid station and start moving again without too much waiting around. I told him we could rest along the way if we needed to. The first 3-4 miles of the next section were flat, following by a massive climb, a quick dip down, another quick climb, and a 5 mile descent to the finish. Not too long after, we exited the trail to the road and arrived at the aid station.

Rideout Aid Station
This aid station was in a gymnasium, so it was a nice quick reprieve from the cold. We headed in and started eating some random things. As we sat there a couple minutes, James came in and said there were 2 runners sleeping in the corner and that we should get moving to ensure we finished in the top 10. This motivated us, and we quickly finished up and headed out for our final 15 miles.

We spent 20 minutes at this aid station and left tied for 9th place.

Miles 190-205.5 (Finish) –
The decision was made earlier that day that both James and my uncle would both pace us for the last 15 miles since Ken and I were together. James would lead us and set the pace. My uncle would walk in the back and keep us together. And my uncle studied the course pretty closely to make sure there was no risk of getting lost.

The first 3 miles were on road and went by quickly as we passed some major construction work. We then turned right onto a dirt road, which we followed for a while before continuing up the mountain on the dirt road. Ken quickly stopped to use Porta Potty, and my uncle waited behind, but James and I just slowed down and they quickly caught up.

We went up, and up, and up. As this up started, I told Ken I wasn’t going to be overly aggressive because I needed to save something for the run down if we were going to make a run at 72 hours. He agreed, as the four prior sections started off great and then ended with us limping into the aid station. That wasn’t going to happen here.

And at some point, I told James that if anyone passed us on the way up it was fine, because Ken and I would out-sprint them on the way down the mountain to the finish. I didn’t really think this would happen, or was I necessarily ready to do this, but it felt like something I should say after 198 miles. James also told me that he would run ahead near the finish to let them know we were coming, as he had previously done in the race.
 

And so, James powered his way up, pushed us, and would update us on mileage based on his watch (I started my watch late after leaving the aid station, so I wasn’t positive where we were), as my uncle would run ahead at times and get pictures of Ken and I coming up.

Finally, the dirt road ended on an asphalt road, which continued up some more. At this point, we were really moving up the mountain, the wind was becoming crazy strong, and it was getting really cold. And then the asphalt road turned back onto a dirt trail and headed up even more. During this stretch, the guy we passed at the aid station came running past us at a totally unsustainable pace. Ken commented that he was making the “pass of death.” There was no way we were going that fast right then. We had too far to go yet. Maybe we’ll catch him on the way down.

Finally, we turned out of the woods and approached the peak of the mountain. The wind was unbelievable (maybe 40-50 mph). It just ripped through me and made my body numb from how cold it was. With that said, the view was also unbelievable. We basically had a view over a good chunk of the 199 miles we had just run. We stopped for a quick picture and then finished the ascent. By the time we were at the top, I was in no mood to run. My whole body was completely numb, I couldn’t open my hands because they had frozen in a clasped position around my pole handles, and I really couldn’t feel my legs, as I was still wearing shorts.

And then there was a pause at the very top for 30 seconds…


Me: What time is it Ken?
Ken: 8:02
Me: How far do we have to go James?
James: It’s hard to say. It depends if the people at the last aid station were correct, or if the cited distance is correct. They said it’s less than the cited distance. So I would say it could be anywhere from 3 to 5 miles.
Me: Well, if it’s 5, I don’t know if we can make it in under 72. I can’t feel my legs or hands. I didn’t expect that blast of extreme cold at the top.
-During this whole conversation, Ken and I were folding up our poles-
Ken: I think we can make it.
Me: So we should go for it?
Ken: Yep.
Me: Alright, f@$& it, let's do it…

…And with that, I turned and never saw James or my uncle again until after the finish. I still have no idea how it happened, but I basically went into a dead sprint down the first hill, dancing around rocks, roots, etc., as if it were my first mile of running. Behind me, I might of even surprised Ken as he commented “alright, this is going to be fun!” (As a side note, as much as I like to go out-of-control downhill, Ken is on a whole different level with downhills. He is a beast running downhill).

As we flattened out a bit after that initial downhill, we went over some rolling hills and started doing some regular time and elevation checks to try and figure out how far we had to go. Something wasn’t right. My watch was saying we were still at 8200+ feet (we needed to go down to 6200 near the lake). I thought my watch had gotten screwed up somehow, but then we rounded a turn and saw an arrow pointing up instead of down. This was when we realized we had totally misjudged the second short climb after the dip down. We thought we had already done it. Not so much. And we started climbing again. We also now knew that after this climb (of about ¾ mile) we still had about 4 miles to the finish.

This is also the point in the race where if I were alone, I would have given up on sub-72 hours. But Ken wanted to keep going for it and the plan was to finish together.

He powered up the mountain ahead of me and I followed. It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. It wasn’t that I was gasping for air in the normal sense, but between the cold air and how tired I was, I felt totally out of breathe and could hardly talk. We climbed, and climbed, and climbed at what felt like a blistering pace and finally hit the top. We could now see down the mountain to where we had to go. It was all downhill from here, and it was about 8:25. We had 35 minutes to go about 4 miles.

We got this he said, and we started running hard again. And we continued running hard for the next 4 miles, totally out-of-control at times. He would pull ahead, and I would sprint to make up ground. I honestly have no idea how I kept my legs underneath me or how I kept up: my legs were just numb. Luckily I was too tired to give it much thought, but if I had wiped out, there is no doubt I would have rolled ¼ mile before slowing down. And with all the turns on the way down, I would have been lucky not roll off a cliff. But we kept going.

After about 2 miles, I said time? Ken: 8:42.

And then we saw someone about ½ mile ahead, whom we were gaining on him really fast. It was the guy that had powered past us on the way up the mountain. As we approached, Ken said let him have his moment of glory crossing the finish. It doesn’t really matter if he finishes ahead of us. With that said, he was going too slow and with about 1 mile left there was no way we could wait for him if we wanted to finish in under 72 hours.

Me: Time?
Ken: 8:49.

And then the guy ahead makes a hard left turn. I think where is he going? The flags continue straight. I yell to Ken, “it’s this way. We can’t wait for him anymore.” Ken continues to follow me, and we leave him behind.

Me: Time?
Ken: 8:52.
Me: My god, how much further is it. I don’t know if we’ll make.
Ken: We got it.

We continue on, and finally, I see the turn we made out of Homewood 3 days early to start the race.

Me: Time?
Ken: 8:57.

We make that turn and have about 1/3 of a mile left. But we can see the finish line now. Ken blazes ahead, and I do everything I can to keep up. He starts counting out the time, “2 minutes.” Then “1 minute.” Then as we round the final turn to the finish: “10 seconds, but that’s just my watch, they could be different.” We grab hands, turn, almost run over a couple dogs in the middle of the path and fall, and kick up a bunch of dirt sprinting the last 50 feet to the finish.

I immediately fall forward, hands on my knees, gasping for air. Somehow, we made it. The official time: 8:59:05, or 71 hours 59 minutes 5 seconds.



I have to hand it to Ken, he hung in there and really pushed me to the end. I am used to being pushed like that in CrossFit workouts, but never at the end of long races. In the end, those last 4 miles really hurt physically and mentally, but it was totally worth it. 


As planned, Ken and I came in together tied for 9th place. What an awesome experience it was!

We then proceeded to drink champagne, eat a bunch of food, and take the best ice bath ever in the cold lake.


_______________


Finally, I have to say thanks to everyone that came out to help me in this race! Everyone that came out was invaluable to me finishing! Unfortunately, I have no opinion of the actual aid station workers because most of my interaction was with my crew. Nonetheless, the aid stations did seem to be stocked with a ton of great food that my crew was able to provide me.

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