I knew I was being ridiculous, yet I couldn't let it go. By Thursday, I had narrowed possible shoe choices to eight different models and prototype iterations (yes I brought eight pairs of shoes with me to California). Finally, on Friday I recovered my senses and made the call to wear the Fuel XCs, the same shoe I use for all my longer distance races. With that decision made, there was very little else left to think about or that I really wanted to think about with regards to the journey from Squaw Valley to Auburn the next day. I mean it always transpires the same way. You fret about the most ridiculous minutiae and then on race day the gun goes off and you are instantly reminded of how simple our sport is.
It's just running, dude!
Before I knew it, we were lined up and ready to go: 3-2-1-boom. Nothing to do now but run, eat and drink for the next 16 hours.
Kilian, Adam, me and Geoff in the early going up the ski hill.
Killian fielding a phone call from his shoe guy, 'Fred,' in France
Within the first five minutes of snow running it was quite apparent that the snow section was actually going to be quite fun. It had been cool enough overnight that there was a good crusty top to the surface that was providing ample traction, despite the overall icy nature of the snow. Versus last year, I think the running through the high country was probably a little better, as there was very little run-off to deal with and things were generally firmer. That said, there was way more snow. In addition, some of the side hills were incredibly treacherous and, dare I say, a little concerning from a safety perspective. So maybe 5 minutes slower overall.
After one of my four or five spills on the snow, maybe half way to dry land, Geoff and Kilian got ahead of Adam and I, forging an out-of-sight gap. Not long thereafter, Dave Mackey joined us and we worked together sighting the tough-to-pick-out light yellow flagging. It wasn't long until we realized that we were no longer following tracks, leading to the obvious conclusion that Geoff and Kilian had lost the flagging somewhere. Meanwhile Dave was building a bit of a gap on Adam and me. He too was out of sight before long.
After losing the flagging ourselves for a couple of minutes, a group of guys including Geoff and Kilian caught back up to us as we made our way onto the jeep track down to French Meadows Reservoir. Last year, this had been totally clear, but we still had to negotiate an extra two or three miles of snow before we were finally clear of it and could get into a proper running rhythm.
Dave was out of sight ahead, and it was me and Kilian leading the charge in second and third on the fast campground road section down to the Poppy trailhead. The pace felt a lot more reasonable than last year, and I'm guessing we were moving 10-15 seconds slower per mile. Through these miles, I had a good chance to catch up with Kilian and discuss races (among other things). One nugget I will share is that both Hardrock and Pikes Peak are on his near-term radar, as are the names Kyle Skaggs and Matt Carpenter, in addition to the times of 23:23, 15:42 and 2:01. Enough said on that front.
So we bop around the reservoir on the gently rolling Poppy Trail, before climbing up the distinctly cleaner exposed cut through the Red Star burn area to the Duncan aid station at 24 miles (under noticeably cooler conditions than last year). Kilian, as he would much of the day, followed a step behind me the whole way. Coming into the aid, I was feeling a bit out of sorts. My right glute was burning worse than it had in months, my stomach was feeling a little off and then all of a sudden as I stopped to refuel both my legs start cramping - calves, hamstrings, glutes, left, right, everything. Just a big old wobble.
Coming up towards the Duncan aid.
To say this was a little concerning would be an understatement. This was a potential race killer and we weren't even beyond training-run distance. I immediately reassessed my pit stop and grabbed a handful of S-Caps, downing probably five while also gobbling a gel and a bunch of fruit. The extra time in the aid station allowed the chase pack to catch up, and as we headed out on the re-route section new to this year's course, it was myself, Kilian, Geoff, Hal, Timmy Olson and Mike Wolfe running as a pack. Apparently Dave had made an extra turn somewhere between Talbot and Duncan, so we were running as the lead pack.
After a brief road stint we were routed onto a section of doubletrack jeep road down towards Duncan Creek. Coming back up we made a right at a T intersection where we were supposed to have made a left. In our defense, there was flagging hanging from a tree branch to the right and nothing to the left, so not a total bone-headed wrong turn. By the time we hit the paved Mosquito Ridge road at the top it was apparent that we were off course, and so we turned around, retraced our steps back down to the T and realized that the flagging had originally been extended across the intersection to prevent such a turn, but had been pulled down somehow (probably an animal) such that it hung from a branch as if to indicate a right turn.
Annoying, but not devastating. Yes we were 15 minutes off course, but at least we were all in the same boat.
Heading up the correct route to Mosquito Ridge, the group broke up a bit with Mike, myself, Kilian and Timmy overtaking Dave (who was now back on course after his wrong turn that seemingly cost him a similar amount of time) near the top, and somewhat surprisingly dropping Hal and Geoff. Hal would be slow on the climbs all morning but would catch back up on the downs; Geoff I wouldn't see again until the finish.
The aid station volunteers informed us that four guys had been through before us. And so we began the process of reeling them back into the fold. By Millers Defeat, we (Mike, Hal, Kilian and me) had picked up my buddies Scott Jaime and Ryan Burch, leaving just Mike Foote and Jez Bragg to catch. Our pack of four split a bit heading down to Dusty Corners, but regrouped by the time we got to Last Chance. Readying for the drop into Deadwood Canyon and the climb back up to Devils Thumb, we had just Jez left to catch.
Somewhere between Mosquito Ridge and Last Chance.
We dropped into the canyon as a group of four and then proceeded to separate as the climb began. Mike and Kilian took off running hard immediately, while Hal and I seemed happy to let them go. I ran maybe half of the climb, but was in no hurry to kill myself getting up the steeper pitches. Near the top, Jez finally came back into view and things started to feel well with the world again.
The cramping had largely subsided, my belly was happy and I had finally made up for the wrong turn by taking back the final position that we had given up on the re-route. With that said, there was still plenty of work to be done and all manner of things that could still go wrong, not to mention that there was a need to reel back in a Spaniard and a Montanan. Oh, and a Brit and an Oregonian too, because Jez and Hal were more efficient through the aid than me.
I ran solo on the flat to rolling stuff leading to the drop into El Dorado Canyon, but soon caught Jez on the 2,000'+ descent. Not far out from the creek, I heard a series of cheers which I timed at 1-3 minutes, so I knew I was still in touch with the front of the race. At the creek aid station, Hal was still lingering and I was able to nudge out before him, deciding early that I was going to run the whole climb to see if I couldn't get a little separation on Hal and close the gap to Mike and Kilian.
By the top of the climb I had lost Hal and reeled in Mike, moving into second in the process. When I caught Mike, he was in run/hike mode on some pretty mellow stuff, so I assumed he was dealing with some issues. The Michigan Bluff aid transition (55) wasn't the smoothest, so I actually left in fourth with Jez and Mike getting out before me.
Up to this point, through the worst of the canyons, the heat had really been a non issue. Yes, it was hot, but we weren't dealing with an inferno. My cramping was now well behind me as I set out in pursuit of Mike on the road to Volcano Canyon. After some flagging confusion (ie, there was none) which caused Mike and me to backtrack for a couple of minutes before turning around again after bumping into Hal who told us we were in fact on course, I put a gap on both Mike and Hal. I assumed at that point that those two were out of the hunt for podium places and it was just me, Kilian, Jez and whoever else was running well behind (Timmy Olson, in particular was on my mind).
Love the vintage look - so Western. Coming into Foresthill at the 100k mark. Photo: Clynton
Foresthill (62) was smooth. I got the update that Jez and Kilian were running together about five minutes ahead of me. I picked up Nick Pedatella, my first pacer on the day and got down to the business of covering the crux miles between Foresthill and the Middle Fork of the American River (78). Still feeling strong, I was confident that I would be reeling Jez and Kilian in long before the river as I had been running the downs stronger than them all day.
Nick got me on a strict 25-30 minute gel regimen and we boogied on down. By Cal 1, we had halved the gap. Just as we were coming into Cal 2, having run the rollers well, we caught up to Jez, passing before the aid, where we also saw Kilian. Kilian and his pacer Rickey Gates (running with a mini video camera on a stick) got out first, but I was soon on them.
Rather than slot in behind, I decided to see if I could build a gap, as I was sure that Kilian would be working the climbs harder than me. I put the jets on a bit and forged into the lead. As expected, Kilian did not let me go. On what AJW calls the six-minute hill (a grunter before Cal 3), Kilian was still right behind. I had no intention whatsoever of running this one, so had to just sit back and watch Kilian take off at a very impressive clip. Nonetheless, I was back on Kilian by Cal 3 and we essentially ran together to the river, picking up Hoka CEO Nico Mermoud (out run spectating) along the way.
Vid: Real Endurance
As the excellent video above shows, Kilian (and his entourage) got into a boat a few seconds before me (with Nick and Nico). Mike and Jez were just boarding on the other side of the river as I was getting out (although I had no idea at this point that Mike was in the mix).
I knew I wouldn't be seeing Kilian on the run up to Green Gate, so after hiking the early grunt out of the river, I ran easy up to the aid station with Nick and Jake (who would take over pacing from Nick). When I say 'easy,' by the way, I am referring to pace as I was a little disconcerted at the lack of pop in my legs. Sitting down in that boat, even if for just a minute, seemed to have really put the funk in my legs. Through the second mile of the climb, I was able to pick things up a bit, but I think that was just because the grade mellowed out.
At Green Gate, I was a reported two minutes behind Kilian. I figured I still had a shot at winning, but for some obscure reason I couldn't drum up the adrenaline rush that I normally get with situations like this. I mean c'mon: biggest race of the season, two minutes behind an emerging legend, playing for all the marbles, and all I could think about was how bad my shredded feet were hurting. I toyed with the idea of popping some Tylenol, but stuck to my principles on that matter and decided to endure without.
On the buffed out rolling singletrack to ALT (85), I was able to find a decent groove. Jake gave me some intermediate splits at between 8:30 and 8:45 pace, with some slower, hillier miles thrown in there too. I felt decent about the pace, which was about as good as I could muster, but had a feeling that it just wasn't going to get the job done. At this point, I was thinking that my best chance of victory would come from a Kilian implosion. Remembering back to last year, I knew that wasn't out of the question.
And then my wheels came off.
Mike, like a Phoenix from the fire came cruising into ALT just as I was on my way out. I couldn't believe it. Jake and I had heard voices across the canyon but it was impossible to tell if they were coming from nearby or a long way on the other side. Not long after ALT, Mike came cruising by at a pace that I just couldn't latch on to. It's not that I had completely imploded by this point, but I was most definitely on the edge.
At Brown's Bar (90) I was still (technically) in the hunt. Mike was still there and we were told that Kilian was three minutes ahead of us. However, I just couldn't find that spot in my head that I found last year where I was able to shut everything out of my mind and grind through immense pain in pursuit of a white lycra-clad Spaniard.
I was dreading the rocky climb up to Highway 49. My feet were jabbing with pain and every angled foot plant was just excruciating. I was stumbling around like a drunk man, just trying to get to the finish without doing too much more damage. I felt guilty for my weakness. I wanted to give Jake - a young, talented and highly enthusiastic ultrarunner - a finish to remember, but I just couldn't find that killer gear.
And that was my race. Fortunately, I was able to hold on for third, just five minutes ahead of Jez.
Irunfar interview here if you want a verbal blow by blow on the race.
Jake's take for a pacer's read on the last 20 miles.
I knew I wouldn't be seeing Kilian on the run up to Green Gate, so after hiking the early grunt out of the river, I ran easy up to the aid station with Nick and Jake (who would take over pacing from Nick). When I say 'easy,' by the way, I am referring to pace as I was a little disconcerted at the lack of pop in my legs. Sitting down in that boat, even if for just a minute, seemed to have really put the funk in my legs. Through the second mile of the climb, I was able to pick things up a bit, but I think that was just because the grade mellowed out.
At Green Gate, I was a reported two minutes behind Kilian. I figured I still had a shot at winning, but for some obscure reason I couldn't drum up the adrenaline rush that I normally get with situations like this. I mean c'mon: biggest race of the season, two minutes behind an emerging legend, playing for all the marbles, and all I could think about was how bad my shredded feet were hurting. I toyed with the idea of popping some Tylenol, but stuck to my principles on that matter and decided to endure without.
On the buffed out rolling singletrack to ALT (85), I was able to find a decent groove. Jake gave me some intermediate splits at between 8:30 and 8:45 pace, with some slower, hillier miles thrown in there too. I felt decent about the pace, which was about as good as I could muster, but had a feeling that it just wasn't going to get the job done. At this point, I was thinking that my best chance of victory would come from a Kilian implosion. Remembering back to last year, I knew that wasn't out of the question.
And then my wheels came off.
Mike, like a Phoenix from the fire came cruising into ALT just as I was on my way out. I couldn't believe it. Jake and I had heard voices across the canyon but it was impossible to tell if they were coming from nearby or a long way on the other side. Not long after ALT, Mike came cruising by at a pace that I just couldn't latch on to. It's not that I had completely imploded by this point, but I was most definitely on the edge.
At Brown's Bar (90) I was still (technically) in the hunt. Mike was still there and we were told that Kilian was three minutes ahead of us. However, I just couldn't find that spot in my head that I found last year where I was able to shut everything out of my mind and grind through immense pain in pursuit of a white lycra-clad Spaniard.
The smile hides the pain as we pull into Highway 49. Photo: Meagan Hicks at iRunFar.
I was dreading the rocky climb up to Highway 49. My feet were jabbing with pain and every angled foot plant was just excruciating. I was stumbling around like a drunk man, just trying to get to the finish without doing too much more damage. I felt guilty for my weakness. I wanted to give Jake - a young, talented and highly enthusiastic ultrarunner - a finish to remember, but I just couldn't find that killer gear.
And that was my race. Fortunately, I was able to hold on for third, just five minutes ahead of Jez.
Jake's take for a pacer's read on the last 20 miles.
I'm probably running out of chances, but maybe one day I'll find a way to beat this extraordinary talent. Photo: Auburn Journal
Nothing more needs to be said about Kilian that hasn't already been said. He is a very gifted runner with a competitive drive that is quite remarkable to watch. Mike Wolfe, who I had never run against before, really impressed me with his finish. Quite clearly he ran a great race, working through some adversity along the way. His finish from Foresthill was hugely impressive - to say the very least.
I'm not quite sure why, but I wasn't particularly concerned about Jez as a factor in the race in the days leading up. He absolutely proved me wrong out there. I figured he was done once we caught back up to him on Devil's Thumb, but he was out there all day running a calculated and very well-paced race. The guy was steady all day long. Much respect.
But far and away (on the men's side), I am most impressed with The JW. His passion for this race is unsurpassed, and his drive to maintain a position among the top-10 finishers is an inspiration to watch. I was fortunate enough to hang out with Andy for a couple of days pre-race and I watched him spend hours devising a pacing plan that he thought would be good enough for a top-10 finish. I thought his 16:45 goal was aggressive, to say the least, but as I tell anyone who asks, aggressive goals are the only types of goals I think are worth setting when it comes to ultrarunning. Not only did Andy get his top-10 spot (against a field of guys who on paper should have destroyed him), but he was well under his goal. Anyone looking for inspiration should look no further.
As for me, well I'm sitting here nursing a pair of very sore feet, but feeling a certain hunger that I don't feel was fully fed last weekend. Expect to see me at the start line in Silverton next weekend.
I'm not quite sure why, but I wasn't particularly concerned about Jez as a factor in the race in the days leading up. He absolutely proved me wrong out there. I figured he was done once we caught back up to him on Devil's Thumb, but he was out there all day running a calculated and very well-paced race. The guy was steady all day long. Much respect.
But far and away (on the men's side), I am most impressed with The JW. His passion for this race is unsurpassed, and his drive to maintain a position among the top-10 finishers is an inspiration to watch. I was fortunate enough to hang out with Andy for a couple of days pre-race and I watched him spend hours devising a pacing plan that he thought would be good enough for a top-10 finish. I thought his 16:45 goal was aggressive, to say the least, but as I tell anyone who asks, aggressive goals are the only types of goals I think are worth setting when it comes to ultrarunning. Not only did Andy get his top-10 spot (against a field of guys who on paper should have destroyed him), but he was well under his goal. Anyone looking for inspiration should look no further.
As for me, well I'm sitting here nursing a pair of very sore feet, but feeling a certain hunger that I don't feel was fully fed last weekend. Expect to see me at the start line in Silverton next weekend.
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