"Eat drink and be merry", that's something I told a close friend and trail runner, Melissa Shotwell Klungle, what I anticipated we'd be doing a fair amount at Cascade Crest Classic (CCC)100 mile endurance run. It's what you do, drudging up hills and to pass time in a casual manner.  This, my first attempt at a 100 mile race at age 54, know I'm well beyond my prime, but I kinda started my ultra-career late (age 50), so I'm a late bloomer, not done yet and don't know what I really might have been or what I might be! Pace the time, in the best manner possible.  Step by step, mile by mile and aid station by aid station. A great analogy that I believe applies to life in general!  Flying blissfully ignorant into CCC, this was about the only solid thing I knew I could do. Writing a blog, also my very first.  It'll be a jerky, LONG and learn as you go process. So hang in there for a bumpy, hilly ride!

A year ago, I volunteered at the Stampede Pass aid station, mile 34. Working this aid station gave me a great respect for not only the people running at CCC, but the people running CCC.  The work we did for others was so rewarding.  Giving a participant a cup of warm soup, shout of encouragement and filling up a water bladder made the difference for many of them as it did for me a year later.

Previous to CCC this season, I had run a few 50-milers and several 50K races around the NW.  Most of these races ran at an accelerated pace, likely much quicker than I could ever hope to run at CCC. One of my greatest fears was running quicker than my body would last over 100 MILES! Outside of a catastrophic injury (turned ankle, pulled ‘something’), BONKING-was my greatest fear. So, gearing down to what I thought a 100-mile pace "was", was the devil in the details.  I focused on reducing my pace by long weekend double digit mile runs (focus more on time on feet vs miles) and my last 50-mile race at White River, where I actually finished close to the time I'd predicted with little or no bonking or cramping.  A success, but finishing just under 12hrs, was still too fast for what I expected to do at CCC. None-the-less I was told, your mind will adjust to the distance you run that day(s),....AND do NOT think past the next aid station, live in the present, step-by-step. I would need demonstrate this to effect for the next +28 hrs.

Fast forward, the START, almost...:

Fire Station Breakfast  

Eat drink and be merry!  What else could one do, but stuff up on carb's, with the incredible buffet set out by the CCC volunteers at the fire station.  Fresh fruit, pancakes, sausage and eggs and COFFEE! Thank you volunteers, so much for this great bounty, to feed our bodies and help distract us a little longer from the task to come.

I had two full helpings and figured with about two hours to go until start time, why not??  I was told carb up early, and carb up a lot.  Yes, I can do that. So, step by step, plate, by plate, I went forward into the carb zone. Belly full, I decided to 'taper' post, pre-carbing, and get to know my surroundings before the big push.  Looking around I recognized more than a few familiar faces from previous ultra-races over the last couple of years leading up to this grand effort. Many grizzled veteran 100-milers, and more than a few of us virgin 100-milers.  Some of the virgins, chatting over a cup of joe, settled in for simple casual conversation to pass the time and nervous pangs: "this your first 100? Yeah me too....what are we doing???!...Shrug, 'don't know, but we'll soon find out!" Good trail friends and buddies nervously waited for the green light, included Melissa Shotwell Krungle and Samantha (Sam) de le Vega. Both tough runners that I had all the confidence in to get'r done! I expected to see Sam sooner than later, both of us holding about the same pace. Unfortunately, I would find out after the race that they both had to drop at Hyak for various maladies.  Over 30% of the entrants faced similar fates.  IT'S A TOUGH COURSE! One of the more demanding 100's in the U.S.  Nothing to be ashamed of at all.  I fully anticipate they'll be back in force to complete the course by next year if they haven't found a 100 to run before that!  A couple weeks previous, a few of us virgins had run the last 30 mile training run, over the Throp Mountain. section, including the blistering 'Needles' (relatively sharp inclines to climb and descend, most all above 5,000 ft) before and after Thorp. All on fresh legs. It was hard then. We all wondered what it will be like on +80 mile legs. Slight grin or grimace, shared amongst the virgins trying not to project pain-forward! We'd see soon enough.

After a pre-race briefing, all the runners gathered behind the start-finish. The national anthems of both Canada and US of A were sang, beautifully, quite the nice touch to start a star spangled/Maple Leaf day! Ready to go, we were all, go-to-go! 

"....5-4-3-2-1": We were off!  Nothing zippy, at least from the peanut gallery in the last 1/3 of the pack where I lingered, but a casual jaunt for about a mile or so, before turning up for a vertical 3,000 feet hike for the next 4-5 miles. I settled in quick with my hiking poles, figuring I'd use them more than I ever had on any previous ultra.  With over +21,000 feet elevation gain over the entire course, any advantage I could use to lessen the pounding on my quads and lower back, up and down, I was going to use to full effect!

Goat Peak to Cole Butte

The first aid station, Goat Peak, came within 3-4 miles of the start, came and went in a blink. I did little but eat a few grapes and move on.  Then we started one of many, many climbs over the next two days, reaching Cole Butte at mile 10. Still well carb'd from my belly filling two breakfast helpings, I nibbled little, and topped off one of my 500ml water bottles. It was a long conga line of chatty runners this early into the race. Varied experience sprinkled throughout the undulating conga, chugging along, most not looking to pass, but more than willing to let others pass.  The intent was to take the first 30-miles as easy as possible. We all had a LONG ways to go.  Running 10-15 miles into a 50-mile race is nothing for what awaits you the last 5-10 miles. Pacing early on pays dividends at the end. I’ve learned the hard way.  Metering out what a sustainable pace is for a 100-miler, is that much more crucial, I guessed. So, we hiked and trotted along, where the terrain allowed and chatted about our training, other ultra’s we’d run this season, but often about strategy on how to survive to the end.  This is where I found invaluable consult with some of the more grizzled 100-mile veterans who've run several 100 mile ultras.  Karl Jensen, Vancouver BC (thank you Karl!), who’d run this course many times previous and many, many other ultra's provided good insider knowledge.  Paraphrasing, but close, simple but very important tips, "Breathing too heavy, pull back, slow down", definitely do not run the uphill’s early on, even the 'easy' looking ones.  I learned as the raced progressed not to run flats if uphill’s were soon to follow.  The energy spent to get you up to speed, then sudden deceleration to climb the hill, is wasted.  Keep a steady, sustainable pace.  I often chugged along at a very sustainable 3.0 mph fast hike. This was my approach early on the course. Conserve, conserve, conserve....hydrate, hydrate- eat, drink and be merry (EDBM)!

Blowout Mtn to Tacoma Pass

The mileage and time after Blowout Mountain to Stampede Pass (mile 34) was kind of a blur. Reaching Tacoma Pass, mile 23 was a happy eye opener! There was a throng of volunteers/crew all cheering and clapping! Wow, I almost looked behind me, thinking there was a big star runner coming through...well, it was ME and all the other runners coming into Tacoma Pass!  What a euphoric feeling, thank you Tacoma Pass people! It really made a difference and boost to head out strong, with a yummy avocado-turkey wrap in hand and to a large ovation! As previously, I pretty much maintained my tempo and mantra, conserve, conserve, conserve...EDBM!  Volunteered at Stampede the previous year, so I knew the terrain somewhat to Snowshoe Butte. Myself along with other volunteers at Stampede had run a warm up out and back run to Snowshoe last year, waiting for the lead runners to come through.  Vaguely recalling the trail, it helped pass the time trying to recall what came next, and what is next, is all what the race is about.  Enjoy the moment, or try to overcome the painful present. That's all one can do. No more, no less.

Stampede Pass to Meadow Mountain

At Stampede Pass, I was greeted by my crew, Rick Bushnell, who'd made exceptional time to get there by driving my truck from Easton, after being dropped off by his wife on their return trip from Montana! One could not have had a more dedicated crew!  Rick and another long-time seasoned ultra runner, Kris Ryding (pacing and crewing for Melissa Shotwell Krungle), was there to tell me what extra's I didn't need. Like extra headlamps and batteries, etc. (it's good to pack extra’s, but better to pack wisely!).  After eating whatever I could get my hands on, usually a couple of handfuls of potato chips, boiled potatoes, wraps, CHOCOLATE CAKE! Thank you for the cake! I was sent off into the looming sunset with a buzzz!

Meadow Mountain to Olallie Meadow

After Stampede, the numbers of runners you're with diminishes significantly. No more conga lines, it's either solitary, twosome’s or threesome’s.  At this time, I had the pleasure of company with Indigo Sage and Liz Kellog. Indigo and I exchange notes on mountain climbing and Liz continued to amaze me with her solid pace, the rabbit!  Indigo was having considerable IT pain at this time that would continue to plague her, particularly on the down hills, but she kept a steady pedal to the metal pace, -0- whimpering! She’s tough as nails! All of us were pushing to get to Meadow Mountain before the sunset and avoid using headlamps. Before reaching Meadow, however, we were greeted by the beer brigade, local trail crews, blissfully cheering us through a rank and file of beer bottles, lined up in a perfect beer-chute, directing us onward towards the trail crossing and Meadow Mtn, about 1-2 miles away.  We were offered beer, whole in can, or a swig or two. I chose the swig or two, probably safe as it was PBR, very low real beer volume (RBV), but refreshing!  Light was diminishing, and particularly dark under tree canopy. Running at dusk probably has the greatest hazard. Almost too dark to see the trippy roots and rocks, but not dark enough to use your headlamp.  Any night vision you may have gained is quickly drowned out with sudden illumination of the headlamp, blinding you to those trippy roots and rocks in your peripheral vision.  Finally, one, two then the all three of us were now night creatures, headlamp cyclops. Off we trod over root and rock.

Reaching Meadow Mountain, I'd have to say this was likely one of my quickest aid station stops.  The volunteers, quickly topping off my bottles and I, grabbed a delicious soft taco and stuffed it with cheese, beans and guac! Yum!  I headed out of Meadow, delighting in the delicacy in my hands and walked a good quarter mile, eating and pacing, conserving. A headlamp show from here on out, until exiting the Trail From Hell (TFH), the following day.  We climbed down and out of Yakima Valley, up to Mirror Lake.  This is when the night magic began.  Looking either forward or back over your shoulder, you could see other runner’s headlamps marking the course, way across the valley, or below.  Turn off your headlamp, look up and all the universe was yours for the gazing! Wowza!  Neil deGrasse, eat your heart out! Although I had a bit of headlamp headache at this point, climbing helped induce additional pressure to my head and an over tightened headband.  I’d recommend training as much as one can at night, to make sure you get the bugs out.  I did make a few night training runs, but it was on a full tank and only for a few hours.  After a few hours, ‘things’ decide the way they want to fit, and you just deal with it.  Nothing earth shaking, but adjusting headlamp bands at +45 miles was irritable stuff!  Finally reaching the crest of the climb at Mirrow Lake, was a big relief.  I recall Liz saying it was rolling terrain after this.  Arriving around 9PM (a guess, haven’t seen splits yet, and no memory of the time), we found a campground with back packers settling in for the night.  Some quiet conversation from those still up, I kept on the course which was undulating terrain, much like Skookum Flats at White River, which I always freakishly enjoyed. But even Skookum Flats at night, would be a challenge, which I found this to be. Heavy feet and legs are much harder to ignore at night. One needs to concentrate on every step!  There was a fair amount of rooty and rocky trail to ease into. The final elevation loss/descent into Olallie Meadow was welcomed, uneventful, and lessened my headlamp headache.  Reaching Olallie was AWESOME.  The great volunteers greeted you, as they always did, asking what you needed and if you wanted a seat….a seat?? For some reason I didn’t fight the urge to beware of the chair and sat down with two warm pirogues and mustard! Heaven!!  This was yet another milestone.  To this point I’d found that as long as I rewarded my body with good consistent hydration and nutrition, it responded in kind. Zero cramps and feeling a glow, a pirogue glow. Life couldn’t be better! I dared to think to the end of the race. I would make it to the end. Some might say, particularly those who’ve run this course, don’t count your eggs til they hatch. I knew I had an excruciating second day waiting me, but the only way to gauge your performance is the present, and what it’s taken you to get there.  If that’s the formula for success, I was on course, good-to-go!  EDBM!  

Olallie to Hyak

After wolfing down the pirogues, myself and a couple of other runners headed out on the trail a quarter mile or so to hang a left on the gnarly gravel road, where I saw a PCT hiker alongside the road in his sleeping bag. Wondered if he woke to the occasional sound of scuffling feet and swashing water bladders, but he looked ‘out’! Finding the road and hanging a left, down, down we went, myself and Liz (whom I’d somehow managed to stay with) decided to walk this down to the rope section. There were no heroics here, just bolder avoidance. It reminded me much of the Oly Trail Runners Tuesday night summer training runs up Rock Candy Mountain in Capitol Forest near Olympia, WA.  Non-stop cobble and boulders “baby heads” as referred to by mountain bikers.  This went on for a bit then a bit more and more until we reached the flagging directing us to the right and down our last precipitous drop through the brush and tree’s on the rope section to the John Wayne Trail.  There were three of us descending this section, myself in the middle.  The ropes were kinda tricky, you couldn’t put your full weight on them without tipping the runner in front of you off.  I regretfully did this to our lead runner a couple times, sorry! We learned by ‘our’ mistakes! So I decided to wait until he’d switched to the next rope, and so on and so forth until we finally reached the bottom. We remarked it might have been easier just to scoot down on your bottom rather than balance your full standing weight at night on tired legs and a stretchy, springy rope.  At any rate we were at the bottom and only about ¼ mi to the tunnel! Woot!! I also found I had strong cell phone coverage for the first time in the race and quickly sent out a text to my crew and pacer that I was done with the rope section and headed towards the tunnel.  Receiving a response and words of encouragement from Rick was awesome!  I proceeded ahead at full flank speed into the tunnel (about 6mph! lol).  I’d never been in the tunnel before, have heard about others feeling about the tunnel; claustrophobic, never ending, drippy-creepy, etc.  But I didn’t care at this point, all I knew was once I exited the tunnel I was  over ½ way through the course at mile 52 (also the furthest I’d ever ran!) and my pacer, Herb Reeves, would be waiting for me! Running the tunnel was fun, it was FLAT! No more baby heads or trippy roots for 2 miles was very welcomed!  This is where I had unexpected help from a trail bandit, a mouse.  I caught him just ahead of my headlamp.  He was scampering at all out flight response to my presence. Expecting me to pounce on him at any moment he kept the sprint up for what seemed about a quarter mile, it was a reasonable pace, before relinquishing the lead to me. He had nowhere else to go but one end of the tunnel or the other. I wondered how many other runners had the opportunity to run with the tunnel bandit.

I just happened to exit the tunnel with a runner who’s number was #104. Mine is #105. “104 and 105, coming through!”  Arriving at Hyak at about 12AM (the next day!) I was quickly met up by Rick and Herb and great advice and help from Kris, and Matt Krungle and Jen Edwards (ultra woman extraordinaire, just finished 2^nd, woman’s, Fat Dog!). Jen and Matt helped retrieve batteries from my hydration pack and change out batteries to my headlamp and I grabbed an extra one from Rick, along with extra gel mini-hand bottles and Perpetuem re-loads.   Jen lead me to soup and other eadibles then Herb, noting a knot of headlamps coming out of the tunnel, prodded as a good pacer does, got us on the road quickly for our next ~7 mi climb to Kacheeles Ridge. 

Kacheeles Ridge to Lake Kachess

The road started on pavement, parallel to I-90, with a gradual climb until it turned much more ‘up’ and onto gravel.  A passing vehicle on I-90 gave out a toot, witnessing our passing. Either a crew driving a head, or curious passer-by.  I passed a few runners during this stretch, and later thought how stupid that was, as they would pass me for sure on the steeper sections, which they did. Hills are my bane, I do love the downhill though! However, at this time I also was becoming drowsy. Walking with my eyes closed for short spurts. I wasn’t so much worried about sleepwalking, careening off into the brush (although Herb mentioned something about turning me the right direction at some intersection I don’t recall), but worried about my pace which had slowed considerably.  All those I’d passed earlier, and a couple newbie’s, were well out of sight now ahead of me.  It wasn’t so much looking to pass these runners but to stay in the game and improve my performance.  Bonking really worried me. I know once you get to that state, it’s hard to get the spring back in your step.  We had well over 45 miles to go! I took a couple shots of Espresso gel and swigs of water, followed by swigs of my Hammer perpeturm (protein-drink).  Within a couple of minutes I felt my systems coming back online and forced myself a slow trot up the road. I did this in spurts, mainly focusing on those stretches of road that were relatively flat. Gradually I worked slightly greater inclines.  There wasn’t much technical along this portion of the course, less the continuous climb. Those I’d seen before I saw once again. J We did this on again, off-again until we reached Kacheelus Ridge Aid station.  On the way into the aid station and arriving at the aid station the winds had picked up and night temperatures drop. Previous to Kacheelus Ridge, I’d dawned my lightweight Mammut parka, recently purchased before the race. Great purchase, glad I did. That with my winter running cap and gloves kept me in the comfort zone.  Drinking more soup, which seemed to be my craving and eating some string cheese, or whatever seemed to have heavy fat or oil content seemed to drive my eating instincts. Long-burning fuels.   This was probably my longest stop at an aid station, maybe almost 5-minutes, in the CHAIR!  With the wind chill, this wasn’t the best choice. But Herb added words of encouragement, the next 7-miles are a LONG downhill! Yahoo, right??!  Getting my core temp back up and running off the chill is all I could think of. So off we dashed down towards Lake Kachess! It was hard at first, quads of stone, but they warmed up with our increased acceleration. Passing a few knots of runners and pacers as we went. We were in the groove, or maybe just I was, because at one point I looked behind and there was no Herb…???  Woopsie, my first big mistake of the race. Stay with your pacer, there’s a reason for that!  When Herb caught up with me, it was obvious I’d bolted out to quick and he quickly noted one needs to not be too hasty on the downhill.  We got a long ways to go yet. Yup. My quads already had informed me of that fact with lactic acid buildup.  Cramped and tired. I hadn’t been peeing too much and that was a worry, so more water for the moment and less protein-drink and solid fuels. So for the last 1/3 of the distance to Lake Kachess, I did all I could to try and hydrate and flush the lactic out of my system. Herb towing me behind him to our next port of call for a quad refit. 

Lake Kachess to Mineral Creek

Reaching Lake Kachess, lagging behind Herb, pulling in just in time to use the porta potty.  The sprint down Kacheelus Ridge also took its toll on my GI track.  But grilled cheese and soup waited us, and I stocked up on both. Although the Trail from Hell (TFH), waited for us, I looked forward to it.  The slower crawling pace for the next 2 hours over 4-miles of trail would allow my quads to recover. More or less.  Along the passage I started noting interesting images. At one point, looking at the top of a short bluff rising above the trail I spotted what looked like a ‘help-yourself-refrigerator’ lite by a couple of lights hanging from the tree’s. I thought, ‘huh, they provided a self-help aid station…?’ I wasn’t ‘seeing’ things, but well past midnight, my imagination abandoned my fatigued body for a look around. A rock and clothespins holding trail tape it was. The rock in the area is a bright white crystalline/granite origins, where headlamp reflection can turn an ordinary rock into a various images the imagination wanted.  The white rocks along with the brightly reflective tape on the flagging clothespins started coming to life.  It did see things that the imagination does when you’re totally lucent, just that there was not a cognizant regulator on night shift to stop it.  I knew what was going on, but continued to see bookshelves, a chair, tool box, whispy tree limb and brush induced shadow ‘critters’ scampering just out of the side of my headlamp. Shadow’s within shadows. They, along with Herb, kept me company. My own night ghost conga line. These images even continued in the broad daylight towards the end of the race, but hidden in rocks at my feet, roots and tree limbs….the imagination is a terrible thing to waste! EDM!

Mineral Creek to No-Name.

Finally, about an hour from the end of TFH, dawn greeted us.  I could see the outline of No-Name Ridge, and perhaps Thorp Mountain to the east and the dark bottomless expanse of Lake Kachess below.  By the time we’d reach Mineral Creek it was daylight around 6:15AM.  Crossing the creek was a dry experience. I’d expected to get my feet and legs wet as we had on the training run two weeks prior (knee deep). But, dry conditions preceding the race and efforts from previous runners had built a bridge out of limbs and other tree parts that spanned the creek.  Feet dry we crossed and started our hike out of the valley.  About 2-miles up the gravel road, Rick waited for us in my truck with clean sets of socks, shoes, shirts and extra food and trail goodies.  Finally reaching the truck, Herb gave a quick tap on the window to rouse Rick out of REM sleep.  Rick had arrived before 4AM, thinking, based on my input previously and gauging from the projection time of the aid station chart. I was supposed to be mid-pack, arriving around 4AM…wow, wouldn’t that have been just dandy! I was more than happy to stay with the later 1/3 of the pack, the peanut gallery, arriving around 7AM.  Changing out our shirts and socks and eating a whole avocado, we set off for a long climb up, but into the SUN to No-Name ridge and aid station! Catching glimpses of and snagging rays of morning sunshine was a great moral booster!

8/24/14. 7:51AM...We made it to the next day!!

Finding the REAL self-help water aid station at mile 78.5, I topped off my water bladder and we proceeded to march up the road, temperatures rising and so were our spirits, enough so to have a family portrait taken by fellow runners.  Not only did it look like I was sprouting a tree out of my head, but confidence too!

Climbing up we jogged some, but mostly hiked.  My quads had forgiven me, but not forgotten. Finally reaching some level ground, Herb talked about running this section one time, all the way around the corner to the AID station!...AID station?? Ok, we can do that and picked up the pace! Kind of, jogged then walked into No-Name! Greeted by Deby Kumasaka, and the Hooters gang!! Oh, how I’d wish I’d taken pictures!! ;) Familiar faces including Laura Houston and Francesca Carimichael!  A few hugs later I took a chair…and asked for an aspirin, but not before I had a plate full of waffles and sausage(?) and a few other good carb’s.  After this we had about a 10-15 miles of single track again, which was good and tough.  My quads started their waves of rigamortis at this stage of the race.  The one aspirin I took would help take the edge off, but my only regret is not taking an additional aspirin, but was more worried about assaulting my liver in the last 20 miles.  “Embrace the pain”, I think is what Herb was encouraging! Right, ok.

No Name to Thorp Mountain

The only thing that seemed to keep my legs moving was more running, the exact opposite of what my mind and body wanted to do! But in fits and spurts, we continued along No-Name Ridge.  Somewhere’s along here we had the first of what, 4 or 5 “Needles”? Nice pitches, going up and up and up.  Taking breathe breaks periodically, grateful for my Z-poles! Finally glimpsing peekaboo sightings of Thorp Mountain, accelerated our pace, as always, when you have a goal in mind, or line of sight.  One mile and or aid station at a time!  Stopping at the base of Thorp, we ditched our hydration packs, took our hiking poles and trudged the 1-mile out and back to the top of Thorp Mountain, where we were greeted by Takao Suzuki, “smiles!”, but of course! I gave my best grimace! Lol! Pain, what pain?? Soon thereafter we was at the summit.  Able to look down on where we’d come from, it was photo opt time!  

Looking back down the Trail From Hell, along the shoreline of Lake Kachess.

Herb and I making the final summit at Thorp Mountain

No-Name Ridge to French Cabin

Well, Thorp Mountain, behind us. All gravy from here, right?? Well, I knew we had some downhill AND uphill and then DOWN to French Cabin, just 4-miles.  Riiiight. A couple more Needles is all, and the steepest of all, nick named The Bitch, by grizzled CCC veterans!  Appropriately named, we drudged up The Bitch, one false summit after another, so it seemed…”about 20 more minutes”, was Herb’s answer to my increasingly frequent inquiries “we there yet??” And true to pace and experience, it was about 20 more minutes. We continued our “about 20 more minute” attitude up and over, then down towards French Cabin. At this point, I could SEE French Cabin, with the next goal in sight and a little aspirin in my quads, I shot down the trail like a jack rabbit! Odd but the faster I ran, less pain I felt, but it worked! The arrival at French Cabin was greeted by a few “bonne journée” followed by popsicles! Oh what a treat! Last time I had popsicles was on the inaugural Smith Rock 50K this last spring!  Eating whatever I may have eaten and topping off my water bottles and bladder, we plunged into probably the last significant elevation drop and gain in the course before our final descent to Silver Creek aid station.

French Cabin to Silver Creek

Herb, didn’t say “just 20 more minutes”, but “it’s going to be a LONG 7 miles” to Silver Creek. Riggght. He was right.  At this stage of the race, walking seemed great. Natural. Wasn’t everybody now? My quads had waved in and out of consciousness finally plummeting into a coma. The aspirin had worn off and I was left with the lactic acid truth. Wish I’d taken another aspirin with me, cursing myself.  “Ah, live with the pain, ride it out!…” I’m paraphrasing Herb, but what else was I going to do?  Somehow I managed to start shuffling the feet, keeping small steps as I’d trained all this year, working your cadence. It almost always worked, if you want it to.  What I did find out is that my quads were done with uphills, but flats and down hills they seemed to want. However, they traded off the pain game to my feet, which had started to ache back at Thorp Mountain. The ball of my right foot I thought for sure was going to blister, and any time my feet hit rocks, I stopped dead in my tracks and relied on my poles to hobble over the rocks and boulders. Back to dirt, or forest floor duff, I was actually clipping along at a pretty fast pace. We continued this for a few miles, then, I just started walking and wanted to do that for a while. I started to ‘see’ things again too, what the mind wants to.  I recalled telling Herb when we cross a couple bridges it’d be getting really close to the end.  Well, I saw a bridge up a head and said so.  Herb “you’re hallucinating”…no, it was just my imagination making sense out of tree limbs! I guess! The quads and feet conspired. That’s when Glen Mangianti, came to my rescue (real or imagined doesn’t matter)! I hadn’t seen Glen since back before Tacoma Pass, but another runner I’d seen at Thorp said he wasn’t far behind.  Huh, a little surprised that he might have pulled up closer to us, but not totally. See, Glen, is one of these guys, who you might pass up early in the race, but continues at a constant pace that, if kept throughout the course will come up from behind you, carrying on conversation as he does, and in no apparent hurry, pass you.  Herb, noting my contentment with walking, remarked, “well Glen is probably an hour or so back right now, but if you keep up this pace…” Noted! I looked over my shoulder, and without hesitation, trotted off. That appeared to be the magic at the moment, because every time I stopped to walk, I looked back for Glen, expecting to see him carrying on casual conversation with some other runner, or shouting out “there you are Dave, been looking for ya!”  Thank you Glen!!

The final 7-mile plunge to Silver Creek, went on and on and on….looking for a quick excuse to stop rather than asking any sensible question, turned to Herb, “how much further??”  Herb: “No  whining, FINISH!” ;) Cattle prod, thank you!....we were closer than 20 minutes! I shot down the trail and did not stop until I was ejected from the trail amidst the tents and familiar faces of friends at Silver Creek! There was no hooting on my part, but gladly parted with my hydration pack and poles (kisses-they saved my life!).  Stuffed my face for the last time on a few carbo snacks and grabbed a vanilla gu, and my hand bottle.  Told it was hot the last 4-miles, so had my bottle filled with ice water, discarded my b-ball cap and dawned my ice water soaked baklava over my head. 

Silver Creek to Finish

Herb, turned to me and said I could get under 29hrs if we ‘got a going’.  Looked at my watch, that was about 45 minutes. I didn’t think that was possible, more like +1 hr to finish, legs were toast. But off we trotted. Glad to be running the last four on mostly FLAT! It’s really incredible what the body will do. All you have to do it ask it and treat it kindly. The first ¼-1/2 mile was rolling, motor cross ‘moguls’, as I called them. Painful after 96 miles. We walked through these and then when we hit flat trail, picked up the cadence.  Reaching the trail section along the road and then merging into the road, we geared into ‘marathon pace’, or street pace (it’s all relative). This is still possible after +96 miles. We did this on again off again, broken up with walk recoveries.  I was thinking, just finishing was fine I really didn’t care about the time, but then I looked over my shoulder…did I see someone coming? ; ) Looking at our watches, we realized a sub-29 was definitely possible still! All the miles we’d ran up to this point were hilly, crawly miles. Four miles on any portion of the course was considerable effort, but we found on the flat we could actually ‘run’ again! Turning right near the RxR tracks and then a left, seeing the Fire House where it’d all began a day earlier, I had a smile on my face. It was OVER but I had a 100-miler under my belt! And I was OK, I could do another! Yes, I’d already committed to another 100 before crossing the finish, but who’d know but me! Hooting and waving, I made one last sprint for the finish line, the legs would forgive me but would also remember what is possible! Eat, drink and be merry!