Heat. Bloody, ridiculous heat. The Thursday before this
year’s Western States weekend, that was my biggest concern. Now, two weeks
later, I just remember it all as incredibly fun, and the heat-factor as simply
adding to the excitement and challenge. Easy to say, since I didn’t have to run
the entire 100 miles, but still. It’s funny how that works.
As with most years, this year I did a combination of
volunteering at the race, and pacing for Jamie. An awesome combination of
activities for those who didn’t get a slot on the starting line.
Working the check-in table with Stan. (Photo by Chipping Fu)
Friday morning, Stan Jensen and I gave out wristbands at the
check-in at Squaw Valley, allowing me to greet each of the runners and wish
them luck. It was great fun because I got to chat with many friends, foreign
runners, and elites alike, all of whom were excited to be there. There’s an
electrical energy coursing through the runners at Western States check-in, and
it’s quite contagious.
Checking in Tim.
Jenelle checks in with her crew.
By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, and it was too
hot even in Tahoe, I started to worry about the heat. Jamie, with four silver
buckles in four years, has been an incredibly consist runner at Western States.
She’s also good in the heat, so I knew she’d do well, but triple-digit temps
are going to be a huge challenge for anyone. Like me, for example. I even
started to worry about my task of pacing 40 miles in the 80-90 degree temps I’d
face overnight. Unlike Jamie, I tend to wilt when the mercury rises above 80.
In preparation for my pacing gig, I skipped the start and
slept late Saturday morning. By the time I met up with Jamie’s crew (her
husband, Jim, and friend, Nicki) in Auburn at 3:00, I felt excited and ready in
spite of the heat.
Team Jamie: Nicki, Jim, and me.
Calvin cheers on his mom with his uber cool shades. "Go Mom!"
We headed to Michigan Bluff where we happily absorbed the
race drama unfolding all around us. The front of the race had already gone
through, but we witnessed some of our speedier friends looking strong, as well
as a few elites whose races were already coming apart. We squeezed into the
shade with hordes of other crews, discussing strategy for how to help Jamie
when she arrived, depending on how she was feeling. I sucked down coconut
water, and generally felt that there is no better way to spend an afternoon.
Waiting patiently at Michigan Bluff.
Most brilliant aid station poster ever!
Jamie’s spirits were high, which made us all happy, but she
kept apologizing for being slow. Ha! We just rolled our eyes at her and assured her she was not slow. Slow is all relative, I guess. She was
about 30 minutes behind her splits from previous years, but I was actually
pleased with that. It meant she was wisely dialing things back a bit in the heat.
Walking Jamie out of Michigan.
By the time she arrived at the circus that is the Foresthill
aid station, she was charging. She’s a master at getting in and out of aid
stations quickly, and soon we were heading down toward the river together.
Leaving Foresthill
Most of the time as a pacer, I think of my job as keeping my
runner company, monitoring her nutrition and hydration, and assisting with
staying on-course. None of these things is very challenging with Jamie at
States, so I don’t usually find pacing too stressful. This year, however, I was
also paying a little more attention to her pace because I knew sub-24 in the
extreme heat would be a tall order. I also had pacing duties from Foresthill to
the finish, instead of just Foresthill to Green Gate, which is my usual gig. Somehow,
I felt this meant I had to take things more seriously.
She made great time to the river, and the water as we
crossed felt wonderful. I even wished it had been colder since, even though it
was 11:30 at night, it was still painfully warm out. I would have dunked myself
completely under if not for the cell phone in the top of my hydration pack.
At the far side of the river, I calculated that we had made
up 15 minutes on 24-hour pace since Foresthill. I was excited! I knew if she could make up
another 15 minutes by Highway 49, she still had a chance at sub-24. Although
she was still passing people and moving up in the race, I could see by ALT at
mile 85 that we were unlikely to make that goal. I felt like she was moving
strong, but the watch is always so damn honest.
I didn’t mention the unlikelihood of sub-24 to her at this
point, for fear it would take some of the wind out of her sails. I figured my
job was still to keep her positive and focused on moving forward. By the time
we reached No Hands, I know it had to be obvious to her, but it wasn’t until our
watches actually hit 5:00, on the climb up to Robie, that she acknowledged it.
And in the predawn light above the glow of the river, we kissed her sub-24
streak goodbye with a few philosophical words. Sad, but in its own way, kind of
beautiful. I couldn’t criticize her for feeling a little disappointed in spite
of an incredibly impressive race because I totally understood it. I would have felt the same way. But every race is different and can’t really be
held to the same expectations as its predecessors. And thank God for that, or
running a hundred miles might start to get boring.
Two days later, she said this Western States was her
favorite. With the exception of my one time as a racer, I think it was mine,
too.
At the finishline with my badass best friend.
The finish line at Placer High was its usual, emotional site of joy. I
witnessed many friends make their lap around the track, and I cried every single
time, starting with Jamie.
Clare, Scott, and Jamie after Scott's finish.
Was it hot? I barely remember. I just know that Jamie kicked
ass and never gave up. I was lucky to be there. One of the beauties of Western
States is that, even though it’s hard to get into the race, it’s so easy to be
a part of it.
This year, I was once again lucky enough to be a part of the magic that is the Western States Endurance Run. After a stint of volunteering in the morning with communications at Robinson Flat, I was excited to be crewing and pacing for my good friend, Jamie.
The aid station crew at Robinson, trying to stay dry before the runners arrive.
I think the weather took everyone a bit by surprise, and we spent time wrapped in down jackets and rain coats, huddled under the shade structures before things really got rolling.
The radio crew.
Volunteering with my dad at Robinson. We don't look cold, do we?
As the runners came through, they were in a variety of states. Many looked great, but you could tell the cold and wet conditions caused some to suffer. The predicted 30% chance of showers overnight had let loose with a full-blown, cold spring storm throughout the morning. It's simply not what you prepare yourself for at Western States!
When Jamie came through, it was clear the weather had taken a toll on her. She hates the cold, and she was not happy.
Crewing with Jim at Robinson Flat.
Nonetheless, she showed the true spirit of an ultrarunner. She got what she needed, and headed out, hoping things would get better. When you're fairly miserable at mile 30, it makes 70 miles seem even farther than it normally would. It was tough to see her in such a low spot because she's always been so positive at this race, but it happens to everyone at some point, and I knew she could handle it.
Some hours later, Jim and I were at Michigan Bluff to see how the canyons were treating her.
John Trent, arriving at Michigan Bluff. He looked so great with that smile coming into Michigan, I had no idea the canyons had been rough for him. John is one of the kindest most gracious people you will ever meet, and he achieved his 1000 mile buckle with this sub-24 finish. Way to go, John!
Jamie, coming into Michigan Bluff at mile 56.
Her resident Western States smile was only half evident, but I could tell by her strong running pace as she came into the aid station that she was much improved from how she'd been feeling at mile 30. Whew!
Going strong at Michigan Bluff.
The next stop was Foresthill which was, as usual, abuzz with activity. Runners everywhere, and friendly, familiar faces. No time for socializing though, as I geared-up to run Jamie from there to Green Gate.
Ready to pace!
Have you ever seen anyone so overdressed to leave Foresthill during daylight? I also had gloves and arm warmers in my pack. After the frigid morning, I was afraid of getting cold! Also, I lost my running shades, so I had to wear a ridiculous pair of sunglasses that were floating around in my car. Sexy, no? They actually worked great.
Coming into Foresthill
Jamie came flying into Foresthill, and I knew it was game-on. The smile was there, but it was also tempered by a look of serious determination. She had come back from a slow start and was now under 24-hour pace. She barely stopped at the aid station long enough for them to weigh her, clearly set on making up for lost time. There would be no messing around now on the way to the finish!
Jamie gets props from Kirk on our way out of Foresthill.
We headed off toward the Middle Fork and I suddenly remembered how much I love this trail. I'd done much less training on it this year, as compared to the previous two years, and it was so much fun to be out there on race day!
Jamie was in good spirits, and we chatted continuously for the first 5 or 6 miles. The pace was solid, and I reveled in the simple joy of being out there with a friend, moving my legs on the trail.
Shortly after the first aid station, she began to pick up the pace even more. I was loving it! Her pace from Foresthill to the river was her fastest of the entire day. I wish I could take some kind of credit for this, but it was all her.
Here she is at Rucky Chucky where they momentarily discussed holding her because her weight was up.
Weighing in at Rucky Chuck
According to the scale she was up 9 lbs from Foresthill, which is a
lot for a small person. She and I were both incredulous. There's no way
that was accurate! I'd kept tabs on her nutrition and hydration, which
were both solid, and she was clearly feeling great. I think her strong
state was also apparent to the medical staff, because they decided to
let her continue.
And last but not least, the river crossing. This was pretty fun for me because in both of my previous experiences at Western States (pacing Jamie in 2010 and racing in 2011) we crossed in rafts.
The water was about waist deep, and not too cold. There were a ton of people there to help keep you safe, and it was pretty fun.
Right at the end, my camera came out of my pack when I was putting it back on, and I couldn't find it. I didn't have much time to look, as I had to chase Jamie up the hill. I let it go without too much emotion. It's just a camera. A few minutes later however, a volunteer came running up behind me with my camera in hand. Oh thankyouthankyou kind and wonderful volunteer!!! I was stoked.
After the climb out, I handed Jamie off to her second pacer and wished them well. I knew she would continue her strong finish. (She did, running a 23:21!)
I really wanted to head to the finish line myself to see Jamie and other friends cross the line. I wasn't feeling well though, and by the time I got back to my car I was shivering. I knew I needed to get home and sleep, so that's what I did. (The responsible choice is always kind of a drag, isn't it?)
Western States is always fun. This year I was reminded that we should be prepared for any kind of weather at any race. I got further glimpses at the complex logistics of putting this thing on. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing a friend come back from a tough place in her race to run stronger than ever. I bonded with so many other crews, people I just met, during numerous shuttle rides in and out of aid stations. And, I determined that Metallica's S&M is the perfect soundtrack to keep you awake on a 2:00 A.M. drive home.
It was eight years ago, in March of 2003, that I began training for my first ultra, the Tahoe Triple. I remember it because it was a new thing for me to be intensely focused on a race that was seven months away. I also remember it because it was a particularly snowy March, and I spent more than one long run dragging myself up the climb on Old Highway 40 through a blizzard and ever-deepening snow. Fear was a powerful motivator, and I was well aware that success on race day would be heavily determined by my fortitude this many months out. I may have been an ultra rookie, but I was a wise runner. I have been doing my best to tap into the mindset of that same fearful, badass girl during recent weeks in this similarly snowy March.
I put it to my husband this way: “I’ve put in some good training, so I’ve been okay with being flexible, but it’s almost April. It’s time to get serious.”
In other words, it doesn’t matter how epic the powder is on a given Saturday. Running, not skiing, is now the order of the day. Every weekend.
With this in mind, I added a Sacramento area race to my schedule, the River City Marathon, and called Jamie to see if she wanted to run some hard miles the day before the race. A trip down the hill and out of the snow was in order for some speed, quality and distance.
I had a thankfully uneventful, if slow, drive through the last storm of our own March Madness and arrived in Folsom early on Saturday afternoon. Snow in the mountains means rain in the valleys, and I was prepared to get wet. Good thing!
I wanted to run some speedwork in order to “take the edge off” before Sunday’s marathon. My plan was to race on tired legs in order to keep me from taking it too seriously and pressuring myself to run fast. It would cap off a solid week of quality training with a little “distance speed.” Frankly, Saturday’s speed workout had me more nervous than Sunday’s road marathon, so I’d say my mindset was in the right place.
Jamie and I took off into a light rain for a 30 minute warm-up along the American River. We followed that with 5 X 10-minute pickups. It felt good to quicken the pace, and especially to be running it with a partner. I normally tackle all of my speedwork solo.
At the end of the last pickup I felt tired, but it was that good kind of tired. I could tell I hadn’t killed myself, but I had gotten a good workout, and now I looked forward to a nice warm-down at conversation pace. Apparently, I’m new to Jamie’s definition of a warm-down.
First, the rain started picking up. I hadn’t really noticed it while we were running hard, but now I realized it had swelled to a torrential downpour. Then the wind joined it. We ran across an exposed stretch of trail along Folsom Lake, and the wind blew sideways so hard that it kept pushing me into Jamie, causing me to run her off the trail. All the while, she regaled me with stories that kept me in stitches, seemingly unaware of the furious wind and stinging rain.
Then she looked at her watch and uttered the dreaded phrase, “Uh oh. We’re going to be late for the sitter.”
“Maybe your sitter has no life,” I reasoned with a shrug, but she was already several paces ahead of me and picking up speed. Apparently it’s a bad thing to alienate your favorite babysitter.
After that, it was time to take a short-cut. She tore up and down suburban streets like she had a score to settle. I hadn’t realized it was possible, but the wind howled even stronger and now hit us directly in the face. I was certain the rain pelting my skin must be hail, but it turns out that I’m a bit of a drama queen when it comes to rain. Jamie just sprinted on.
“You’re killing me, Jamie!” My words were carried off by the gale.
“What?” She yelled over her shoulder.
“YOU’RE KILLING ME!” I screeched as I tried to keep up. But she could hear the laughter in my voice and just smiled. I would have just slowed down, but A) I had no idea where I was or how to get home, B) I was totally drafting off her, and C) I was a little concerned about possibly getting swept up in a tornado.
We finally arrived back at her house soaked, exhausted, happy, and only slightly late for the sitter.
The following morning found me again on the bike trail along the American River, this time headed from Folsom toward Sacramento. The original course for River City was one-way and finished at Discovery Park. At this point however, Discovery Park was under water. Rumor had it that the bathrooms were completely below the water line. The River City had become just that.
The new course had us simply turning around at 13.1 and returning to the starting line at Negro Bar State Park. This was fine by me as it put me closer to home at the end of the race, and I was feeling pretty relaxed about the day anyway. The rain had stopped the previous evening, (about 30 seconds after Jamie and I finished our run, I believe) but the sky was still overcast. It was cool with no wind. In short: perfect running weather.
My guess had been that I would run in the 3:40-3:50 range, depending on how much I could feel the previous day’s workout. I had left my Garmin in the car on accident, but was content enough with just my wristwatch. There were no mile markers so my pace was pretty up in the air, but I felt relaxed through the first half.
Nearing mile 13, I counted the women headed the other way to find that I was in 7th place. Not bad. I was even more surprised to see that I hit the turn-around in 1:45 exactly. I felt comfortable enough that an even split sounded reasonable, and that would put me in at 3:30. I raised my eyebrows in surprised approval. That sounded much faster than I had been expecting.
Silly me, though—I also forgot about my competitive nature. Somewhere around mile 18 it kicked in, and I decided it was time to make things fun.
I still felt relaxed and saw no reason not to see how much I could push things. How many women could I pass? I got gradually faster and faster, heart rate picking up, breathing louder, grinning madly, wanting that race to be just a little bit longer so I could pass just one more woman. I moved into third place about 100 yards before the finish line. I felt a little bad passing that last woman so close to the end, especially since this was really just a training run in my mind. But, you know, it was still a race. Right?
The most amusing part about my whole day was that I finished in 3:27. Just one minute faster and it would have been a PR. Apparently I’m in better shape than I thought.
It feels like I’m in that fun phase of my training at the moment. You know, when you’re always hungry and could pretty much eat a house, when times keep getting faster and you feel stronger every day. Instead of feeling exhausted and run down, you’re feeding off the hard workouts. They’re fueling you.
I took yesterday off but ran trails in Reno with renewed vigor this afternoon. The dirt was dry, awash in sunshine, and I hit my fastest times of the season on my hill repeat workout.
I know in a few more weeks the mileage and intensity will catch up with me. I'll probably be crawling through my workouts, feeling sleep-deprived and exhausted, and I'll look back on these days and think, Ah, it was good while it lasted!
Yup. It sure is.
Thanks to Robert and Linda, as always, and their fleet of awesome volunteers for a beautiful race on Sunday. (Complete Results) And thanks to Jamie for foregoing a 300K bike ride to run with me on Saturday!
~
My friend Matt is a musician and he just released his latest single, Faster. I'm going to go ahead with the cliche phrase and honestly tell you that I prefer his older stuff. But I'm liking the title of this particular song, if you know what I'm saying, not to mention the way he hitches his leg up when he sings it. And since this version is live, and it's just Matt and his guitar ... well, it just sounds a lot more like Matt to me than the studio version.
The Way Too Cool 50K found its way onto my 2011 racing calendar for two primary reasons:
1.) Motivation. This race has a large field of very talented runners. Ideally, one could show up with her A-game. In my case, I could at least try not to make a fool of myself.
2.) Get the season started early. I guess this is just restating reason number one. Nothing kicks my training into high gear like the excitement of a race, and sometimes I need to be yanked out of that winter slumber.
If you think of those as my goals, you could say last Saturday was a very successful day for me.
Driving down to Cool on race morning, I felt all the wrong things for race day. I was apprehensive, unsure of my fitness, and unsure of what I was even doing there. I had a million other things on my mind besides the race and I spent the whole drive trying to remind myself that this was supposed to be fun. I arrived at the start still unconvinced. If you’ve ever seen me on race morning, you may realize that this is not like me at all.
It didn’t feel like a very auspicious day for a race, but soon enough I was greeted by good friends who had plenty of hugs. I realized it was sunny out and it would be warm enough to run in a tank top. I also realized that a good portion of the new course was almost exactly the same as one of my favorite training runs. I love to run here! By the time I lined up, there was nothing but running on my mind. Finally: my happy place!
My original goal had been to aim for a sub-5 hour finish. Even though I wasn’t feeling immensely confident, I decided to stick with that goal. I just couldn’t come up with any other time that would satisfy me. I figured there was no point in trying to fool myself about that. 5:20, while still a 50K PR, would feel like a disappointment. That first number needed to be a four.
I looked for Jamie everywhere on the starting line, but sadly had to start without her. The pace felt quick, but good. When we hit the single track, I could tell I had fallen in with a line of runners going exactly the pace I wanted. Sweet!
Oh, there she is! Jamie Frink makes her way through the starting crowd.
Early miles on Olmstead
At the first creek crossing there was an amusing number of people lining up to cross on rocks in order to keep their feet dry. I splashed right by them with a few others, knowing there would be plenty more where that came from. Wet feet are hardly a concern on such a short race.
I enjoyed conversations with new people all day, and never really felt uncomfortable with my pace until I ran out of water two miles before ALT.
It was my own fault since I had left the previous aid station without a full bottle. I actually managed to giggle at my own stupidity. Ah, such a rookie move. I was forced to back off a little as I felt my calves begin to cramp. I’d been pacing off Clare Abram nearly all day, and now I watched as she took off ahead of me. As usual. (One day I will keep up with that woman, I’m determined!)
We were a good little pace group for a while, but both Amy (in front of me) and Clare (behind) finished well ahead of me.
The day and trail were both beautiful, and I actually enjoyed the struggle of trying to maintain my pace. I could tell I was pushing the limits of my training, but I also realized that I might actually break five hours. I popped some electrolyte caps at each of the next few aid stations in order to stave the cramping and started keeping a close eye on the watch.
As I blew through the last aid station, I thought about Steve Itano. We’d been running together earlier in the race, and he told me how every year he tells himself that he’s going to run up this last hill to the finish, but every time when he finally gets there he just can’t do it. This year, he said, he was going to do it! So, I promised him that I would do it too. Easy to say at mile seven I guess, but I meant it sincerely.
Now I had that motivation, plus the knowledge that I was cutting it a bit close to go under five. I will admit, I really wanted to walk on that hill. But what I wanted even more was to find Steve at the end of the race and tell him how much he had helped my finish. I never did find him after the race, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. He motivated me just the same. I felt strong after running up that hill, and happily finished in 4:56.
Realistically, I can’t say that things could have gone much better in this race. I met my goal, I had a beautiful day outside among friends, and I left feeling motivated to train harder.
Huge thanks go out to Julie and all the volunteers for such a well done event. Everything was top notch, and I am definitely a big fan of the new course. Thanks also to Jack and Steve for all the pictures on a day when I left my camera at home, and to Jamie for the pre-race hugs. I love runners!
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