Case Study: Buckle Fever

Buckle fever is localized in and around 100 mile running events

Buckle fever, or chronic ego driven exhaustion (CEDE), has been known to cause premature DNF and extreme remorse. This case study is taken from the 2015 Western States Endurance Run

• Patient is a 43 year old white male with signs of over-exertion, gastric distress, severely blistered feet and piss-poor attitude admitted to the Michigan Bluff Aid Station one and a half hours before the cutoff.

• Patient's chief complaints include bloated stomach, sharp joint pain, lack of enthusiasm, lack of confidence, lack of focus, lack of energy, general malaise and frustration. Additionally, patient claims his body is "shutting down" and "only has one gear". Patient claims he "does not want to continue and does not want to do this anymore."

• Present illness began at race start in Squaw Valley early that morning. In an effort to secure a silver buckle, the patient exerted an unacceptably high effort at altitude in warm temperatures. Over approximately 40-50 kilometers the patient sustained heart rates at or above 80% of maximum. Additional complications arose from in-race nutritional supplements containing beets, which darkened his urine to the point of alarm. This resulted in over-hydration until the source of the problem was correctly identified and normal hydration was resumed.

• Patient's medical history includes similar instances of over-exertion, most recently at Marin Ultra Challenge 50k.

• Patient's family history includes parental marathoning, sibling middle distance running and overall health improvement through regular exercise.

• Patient's social history shows numerous examples of epic challenges, including but not limited to: Alaskan commercial fisherman, previous WS100 finisher, long distance sailor, avid ultra runner. Patient also appreciates fine craft beers often.

• Physical exam reveals some chafing, lack of color, salt-caked skin, thousand-yard stare and a curious odor.

• Assessment: Patient requires tough love and the confidence that finishing is still possible. While reasoning with the patient is unlikely, shaming and guilt can be used with moderate success. Thought exercises illustrating the remorse of dropping have shown high rates of success.

• Patient treatment course: Patient was given ten minutes to get his shit together, after which he was given two baggies containing sandwiches and fruit, along with the necessary lighting and water to make it to the next aid station, Foresthill. Patient continued on through the night, utilizing his "one gear" to stay ahead of cutoffs and eventually finish the race. This was the sought after outcome, and treatment was deemed to be successful.

Race, Rest, Repeat Redux

Recovery from American River 50 Mile goes well. Hamstrings are still sore, and I picked up a little poison oak as a keepsake. I have never been bothered by it before. Hopefully it doesn't develop into an ongoing concern. I had enjoyed my immunity; it allowed me to not care that it is everywhere I want to train.

My adapted ketogenic diet continues to perform. My energy levels at AR50 were steady, and my body fat% continues to decrease:

Wednesday Weigh in, April 8th:

• Weight: 184.2 (-3.5 lbs)
• Body fat%: 16.09 (-0.62)
• Ketone level: 0.5 mm

I plan to continue the same routine through the next couple of weeks. I am considering using Vespa at Miwok 100k, but I want to be in optimal ketosis (1.5-3.0 mm) to take full advantage of the Optimized Fat Metabolism approach. I am finding it difficult to get 200 calories of Tailwind down every hour, and if I can lower my hourly requirement, I think I'll have my nutritional plans for States ironed out.

Short update today. I am working on the AR50 race report. Stay tuned!

Race Report: 2015 Marin Ultra Challenge 50k

2015 marked the fourth edition of Inside Trail Racing's Marin Ultra Challenge. Runners tackled courses ranging from 25k to 50 miles covering the most beautiful trails in the Marin Headlands. I ran the 50k. In years past I have chosen to run Way Too Cool 50k as my winter race. The MUC course offers more vertical and views, making it a better tune up for upcoming races like Miwok 100k and Western States 100.

I used a couple of volunteer credits to gain entry; Tim and Tonya Stahler put on top notch events and it is always a pleasure to work with them. I spent a Saturday helping out at the Lake Chabot Trail Runs in February to earn my keep. 

After American Canyon 25k I had taken some extra rest to mitigate some tightness in my right knee. I regained my composure via strength training and hill climbing. A final workout on the Wednesday before the race had my confidence high. One of my goals for this year is to experiment with my pacing. Thus far in my trail running career, I have managed to complete my races comfortably. I have been conservative and slowed down whenever I was faced with discomfort. I decided to go out strong and hold on, trying to best my average Headlands-area 50k pace of 12:30/mile. That meant a 6.5 hour finish.

Race morning was warm and muggy. Twirly and I made our way across the Bay, arriving at Fort Baker with about a half an hour until race time. I got squared away with my bib and wandered around seeing who I knew as we waited for the 6 am race start. Due to some technical difficulties we started about ten minutes late. Not a big deal. We all had a long day ahead of us.

 Most of the 50k course

I felt strong from the start, and enjoyed talking with some friends as we climbed to the single track. I got a decent spot in the conga line: not too fast and not too slow. San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge made for worthy distractions from the torch lit trail. Switchbacks above and below glowed with hundreds of bobbing LED lights. Sights like that make early morning race starts worthwhile.

I crested the two mile, 750 foot climb feeling great. No niggles and my energy levels were high. A front runner was already hurling in the bushes on the side of Coastal Trail. A little early for that, I thought. He must have really hammered the ascent! I felt confident from the previous training cycle, and I clicked off a few sub-9 minute miles on the dark descent into Rodeo Valley. By the time I reached Rodeo Lagoon, the sun had risen. I could tell I had gone out too fast. Not because I felt worn out, but because runners in singlets surrounded me!

I hit the climb to Wolf Ridge hard, just like I had been in training. Near the top, Kara Teklinski called out my name. She was out cheering on racers. Hearing my name snapped me out of my focused determination. I reeled a little bit, trying to regain my senses and shake off the fog. I had eaten a Clif Shot (the new baby food variety, not the traditional sugar bomb), but I definitely burned a match on that climb. I kept my momentum up through the ridge and on to Old Springs Trail, my favorite descent into Tennessee Valley.

Cruising Pirates Cove, photo by Nate Dunn

I refilled my bottle with Tailwind, dropped my light and I was back on the trail. I kept it easy along the valley floor, eating some MAP and Pocket Fuel. I climbed strong again up Coastal to Pirates Cove. Once there, I found myself racing to keep my spot. Nate Dunn hunkered on the side of the trail with his dog Rosie, snapping pictures. 

Sun kissed Cove, Nate Dunn

I hammered the descent into Muir Beach. The trail there is not technical, per se, but it is rather steep. By the time I saw Twirly at the aid station I was feeling a little spent. Just over a half marathon and about 2000' of climbing in about 2.5 hours left me with little in the tank. If I could keep up the pace I was looking at a sub 6 hour finish. Twirly asked how I was, and "tired" was all I could say. I swapped out Clif Energy Food packets and refilled my bottle for the 7.5 mile loop of Redwood Creek, Miwok and Dias Ridge trails.

Redwood Creek is deceptive. The bouncing footbridges and skinny single track winding through toe-catching grasses make the otherwise runnable trail tricky. About halfway to Miwok, my legs began to scream. I had asked too much of them. They felt like they were full of molten lead. I ate more MAP and soldiered on. My fueling strategy of Tailwind plus Clif Energy Food was working well; I suffered no GI issues. The sticks were running low on muscle glycogen though, and my momentum was flagging when I hit Miwok Trail and began climbing.

I'd never gone up this stretch of Miwok, only run down it in the 2013 Tamalpa Headlands 50k. The runnable grade surprised me. I ran/walked the climb, keeping my heart rate at a reasonable level. I could have run more, but I could feel the wheels coming off. Having only a few 15-16 mile runs this year, I felt my stamina dissipating. Quite a few runners passed me before I topped the hill.

I hit the wall right around mile 18, just before another favorite descent: Dias Ridge into Muir Beach. I picked my way down the climb, gingerly protecting my leaden legs. A fleeting impulse to drop from the race crossed my mind. Then I asked myself what my reasons would be. My legs hurt? Duh. 20 miles ought to hurt. Especially after hammering the first half marathon. Was I injured? Nope. The pain was symmetrical and my gait, while slow, was even. I would have to keep grinding.

Upon my return to Twirly and the Muir Beach aid station, I had shifted into training run mode. I did not want to aggravate any niggles, and I felt horrible. I spent a few extra minutes drinking and eating before I set out for the climb up Middle Green Gulch, the biggest climb of the 50k course. Another runnable grade, I did my best to shuffle until it was over.

Cresting the climb, the course jumped over Coyote Ridge and followed the Miwok Cut-off Trail. I encountered a four way junction with blue ribbons flagging one of the directions. Unfortunately, the other two options had no orange course markings. I knew which way Tennessee Valley was, but without course markings I felt lost. I went the way I thought the course would go, and caught a glipmse of the runner I had been following, confirming I was still on the popular route. Not sure what happened at that intersection. Hopefully those not familiar with the area were able to negotiate the course.

Running down Miwok into Tennessee Valley is tough. Steep, rutted and dotted with hikers, I continued with caution. I was fighting off the apathy and just trying to stay on track for a 6.5 hour finish. Twirly helped me swap out my bottle for one I had pre-filled with raspberry (caffeinated) Tailwind for the final ~8k. I gorged on watermelon and orange slices as a fellow runner was telling the volunteers that he was planning on stopping at 31 miles. Someone would have to give him a ride the final half mile to the finish, because he had only come to run 50k! I assured him the extra mileage was just to ensure his Garmin registered 50k. I left before the volunteers stopped laughing. One more climb up Marincello and steady cruising to the final descent.

A few more runners passed me in the final miles. Once by a man who must have been over 70. He wasn't running in the race, and he kept a steady jog all the way up the trail. I hope to be running that well at his age. My legs were in bad shape. My right leg especially. Cramping hamstring and soleus muscles meant my gait was becoming more and more imbalanced. I walked a few times and tried to stretch it out before the 1.5 mile descent to the finish line, which looked impossibly far away from the ridge line. San Francisco Bay was full of sailboats, and the day was gorgeous, making it difficult to focus on the trail at my feet.

I continued my shuffle long enough to finish in 6:33. I was amazed that I was able to hit my goal despite blowing up. My pace in the last ten miles averaged over 15:00/mile! So kids, that is how you positive split a race and still hit your goal. The lessons I take away from this race are helpful. Despite feeling spectacular in those first ten miles, I was still going out too fast. I let my heart rate creep up into the anaerobic zone too often and for too long. I hope to execute my pacing better at American River 50 mile in three weeks.

Happy to be done! Photo by Nate Dunn

As always, Tim, Tonya and the Inside Trail Racing volunteers put on a spectacular event. Fort Baker is a gorgeous location for a finish line festival. The views of the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco compete with acres and acres of green grass. Bob Shebest won the 50k (after setting the 50 mile course record in 2014), and Paul Terranova won the 50 miler. The inaugural 25k had some of Marin's speediest contesting for the win (Galen Burrell took the honor). Some drama arose when local favorite Dylan Bowman collapsed on the course with a mile to go. He required medical assistance for heat stroke or dehydration. Word has it he thought he was running in the North Face Endurance Challenge when asked. Another oddity from the day were the two Tom Turkeys harassing runners in Tennessee Valley. I heard blood was drawn! Twirly and I lounged around and cheered in the 50k runners. We saw Paul win the 50 mile before retiring to my favorite restaurant in Sausalito (fish.) for lunch.

Gorgeous day on the Bay

I've never blown up in a race like that. While it was the most uncomfortable I have ever been in a race (including WS100) I realize that it wasn't as bad as I imagined. With more real estate I may have even been able to come out the other side. I understand how I ended up where I was, and I think I can apply that in future races. Learning exactly how conservative I need to be while still pushing for my best possible pace is something I hope to dial in before June. I have plenty of practice on the horizon. For now I rest and ramp back up to AR50.

FYI, Scott Dunlap took some great pictures of the course. Check them out here.

Here are the deets from Strava:

Time Accelerates as Improvement Continues

I think I have my ITBS under control. Measured increases in effort and vertical have not caused any additional inflammation, and my performances on my routine training routes are improving (thanks for the easy comparisons, Strava). It feels good to be getting noticeably stronger, and I am looking forward to adding in some speed workouts after the upcoming Marin Ultra Challenge 50k.

My adaptation of the ketogenic diet continues to pay dividends. I remain extremely low carb during the day (<30 grams of carbs) and through my afternoon workouts. At dinner, I have been allowing myself a few luxuries; I had my mother-in-laws lasagne on Monday night, and I'll sneak in a beer here and there. My energy levels are fantastic and I continues my cascade towards race weight.

Wednesday weigh in, March 4th:

• Weight: 189.9 (-2.3 lbs)
• Body fat %: 18.64 (+0.28)
• Ketone level: 0.9 mm

I won't sweat the slight increase in body fat %. I use a Tanita scale, and I have always taken those numbers with a grain of salt. Increased mileage in the next two weeks ought to wrangle that trend. Since December 9th, I have lost 19.5 lbs! Amazing how easy it was once my name was drawn at the WS100 lottery.

I am optimistic about the upcoming race. My climbing strength increases every day, and as long as my fueling strategy works out, I should be able to finish under 6.5 hours comfortably. I want to make sure I burn enough calories to justify eating at my favorite restaurant in Marin, fish.

Turning the Corner: From Base to Strength

Injuries suck. The discomfort I have been feeling in my right knee ebbed and flowed, forcing me to cut back my mileage and spend more time on the stair climber and elliptical trainer. I rode my bike more than I ran last week, which helped my range of motion. I threw in a couple visits to the chiro for some A.R.T., and I feel like I am returning to full strength. 

I volunteered at Inside Trail's Chabot Trail Runs last weekend, helping set up the start/finish festival, manning the first aid station with Inside Trail Racing Team members Chris Wehan and Craig Schmidt, cooking soup for the finishers, and then breaking down the festival area. I enjoyed supporting all of the runners; I don't get the opportunity very often. I think I'll volunteer for more races in the future!

During a lull around lunch time, I was able to squeeze in a run on the half marathon course. My knee felt vulnerable, and I ended up over working my quad and calf muscles to protect it. This was good news; if a niggle moves around, then it is likely not a chronic injury. I'm just happy my knee doesn't seem to have suffered serious damage. As I ramp up the strength building workouts (hill repeats, weight training, long hilly trail runs) I hope to mitigate any further discomfort utilizing the many tools in the kit.

Weight loss continues. I am back to the weight I tackled States at last year. Now if I could just lose another 20 lbs...

Wednesday weigh in, February 25th:

• Weight: 192.2 (-3.6 lbs)
• Body fat %: 18.36 (-0.47)
• Ketone level: 1.2 mm

My adapted ketogenic diet is working pretty well. Keeping my daily carb intake below 50 g while using carbohydrates selectively during and after hard workouts has provided a steady state of energy. My climbing stamina is increasing, and the weight is dropping. As long as I can get my IT band/quad healthy I stand a good chance of returning to my planned volume. Marin Ultra Challenge looms on the horizon. 31.7 miles with 7000' of elevation will be a good measuring stick for my progress. I've finished similar courses in about 6.5 hours. I'm curious if I can improve on that mark by much.

Race Report: 2015 American Canyon 25k

The 2015 American Canyon 25k, held on February 7th, was my first race of the season. I love this race; it is always around my birthday. This was the fourth time I have run the event and my second go at the 25k distance. I don't have many return visits to the same race course, and I was curious how I would stack up against my performance from a year ago.

As with last year, the course was muddy and slick. A storm system had rolled over Northern California the day before. Race morning the rain abated, leaving humid and warm conditions. Numerous runners remarked on how it was much warmer than they had anticipated. 

My goal was to finish under three hours, which would be almost a minute per mile faster than 2014. I felt like I was healthier yet heavier on the start line, which was on the opposite side of the Auburn Overlook parking lot from the historical start/finish line. This would actually come into play before the day was through. At 7:00, Race Director Harlan Reymont shooed us out of the parking lot.

25k course profile (out and back)

I like to go out fast at this race. The trail immediately funnels into descending single track, and I like to get near the front of the conga line. Running amongst the front of the pack for the first mile takes a lot out of me though, and as the fire road traverses around Robie Point I usually get swallowed up by the pack. I had my heart rate under control by the time I reached river level, about 3 miles in.

At No Hands Bridge aid station I stuffed a handful of potato chips into a zip lock bag and began the climb to Cool Meadow. I had two bottles of Tailwind, comprising 600 calories. I planned to complement that with whatever looked good at each of the three aid stations. The race marked the cusp between the base-building phase and strength-building phase of my Western States training. As I climbed, I ran as much as I could while keeping my heart rate below 85% max. As a reward, I set PR's on the Strava segments along the climb.

In 2014, the leader of the 25k had passed me on his return through Cool Meadow. I kept my eyes up, scanning for any sign of this year's leader as I approached. I knew if I could get somewhat further along the outbound leg before I saw him that I would be on pace for a sub-three hour effort. Rudy Von Ravensberg, from Reno, came into sight just before I began the descent to Highway 49 aid station and the turnaround. I was on track.

I crossed paths with the rest of the top 7 as I danced down the technical descent. Rocks, roots and mud demanded my focus, and I grunted encouragement to the other runners with out taking my eyes off the trail. I cruised into the aid station, grabbing a handful of potato for my zip lock baggie, and ran back up the hill without breaking stride. I saw a few more friendly faces on my return trip. Those at the very back of the pack were still grinding their way up to the meadow; determination and grit oozing out of each and every one.

Photo by Keith Sutter

The last time I ran down the Western States Trail to No Hands Bridge was in June. My early-season legs chewed up the rocky trail. The sun occasionally peeked through the clouds, and a cool breeze blew. I tried to compare how I felt with my condition at States, but I could not discern a significant difference. Although, I could breath just fine today.

Another lightning fast aid station stop where I filled a bottle with water and grabbed some banana and an orange slice before heading across the bridge. I tossed the orange peel back towards the trash can (missing it completely) and thanked the volunteer who was already moving to retrieve it. I promised myself to keep running the climb to the finish, save for the steep switchbacks and occasional heart rate mandated hiking.

Overall, I was impressed by my aerobic capacity. I found I could run up most grades without flirting with that 85% threshold as long as I kept my cadence up and focused on easy symmetrical breathing. I caught up with the 15k carnage on the home stretch, commiserating about the brutal elevation gain in the final miles. 

I gained the final stretch of single track with 20 minutes to break three hours. One and a half miles with 400 feet of elevation stood between me and my arbitrary goal. I fought off the apathy and kept running. I crested the hill at the Auburn Staging Area (the historical start/finish line) with seconds to spare, but still had to traverse the parking lot to finish in 3:00:55.

I'll take it. A 14 minute PR and an 8th place finish.

In addition to running stronger, I wanted to reduce my time spent in the aid stations. In 2014, my overall time minus moving time was 10 minutes and 49 seconds. This year, it was 1 minute 7 seconds! This is an area where I stand to make huge gains in year over year performances. I leave a lot of time at those buffet tables. No rest for the weary in 2015!

Huge thanks go out to Harlan and the Sierra Pacific Endurance Sports Volunteers. This event always has that grass roots community feel to it. From the low key start to the finish line chili, it never disappoints. Breakfast at Auburn Alehouse doesn't suck either! I look forward to celebrating many more birthdays with a return to the American Canyon Trail Races.

The deets:

A Breakthrough and a Breakdown

As my weekly volume creeps up through the forties, shades of my previous levels of fitness and comfort peek through the pain. An eight miler on a favorite training trail resulted in numerous Strava segment PR's, although my heart rate was about 6 beats higher than nine months ago. I am feeling strong, but still a bit slow.

February is my birthday month. Last weekend was the annual Tahoe trip, which was the first in 11 years with no snow. I didn't even bother bringing my skis. I did get in a nice long run along Lake Tahoe though. That was a first. The ketogenic diet has been adapted to make room for some beer consumption. Between the birthday dinners and San Francisco Beer Week, it would have been difficult to abstain. So I am eating low carb all day, running on low carbs, and then removing any restrictions for dinner. It isn't shaving off the weight, but my body fat % is still dropping. Hopefully the volume increases will keep everything in check until I get to the other side.

Wednesday weigh in, February 4th:

• Weight 196.9 (+0.5 lbs)
• Body fat %: 18.79 (-0.39)
• Ketone level: 0.3 mm

The low ketone level was not a surprise. I have been experimenting with pre and post exercise ketone levels and found that after an hour or so of running, my levels rise by about 1.5 mm. This phenomenon is well documented, and reinforces the notion that ketosis is easily achieved with exercise. American Canyon 25k, this Saturday, will be an opportunity to experiment with race fueling and actual blood ketone levels. I hope to be in optimal ketosis by race morning, and check my ketone levels during and after the race to see how my selected fuel sources effect my blood chemistry.

All other aspects of training are firing on all cylinders. My MAF pace is improving, and I feel ready to begin the strength building cycle. Hill repeats and longer long runs should get me in race-shape for the Marin Ultra Challenge 50k in March. I will also be volunteering at the Lake Chabot Inside Trails race on February 21st. Say hi if you see me!

The Grind Continues

Forty miles a week is a mythical volume for me. Upon arrival, I feel weary. Niggles cast doubt on my endurance. Scheduling the time to train challenges my organizational skills. Once achieved and maintained, however, the forty miles per week bring confidence, comfort and clarity. Last week marked my return to the volume, and I hope to stay at or above 40 miles per week until June. Provided I can stay healthy, of course.

I continue to leave pounds of fat strewn along the side of the trail. I lost the ability to remain in ketosis on the weekends. Between my strategic use of complex carbs like sweet potatoes on my Saturday long runs and post run recovery brews with friends I didn't stand a chance. Weekdays are still low carb, and by Wednesday weigh in I can get back into nutritional ketosis. I'd like to see if I can fend off the fatigue despite my weekly transgressions. Here are this week's numbers:

January 28th, Day 24:

• Weight: 196.4
• Body fat %: 19.18
• Ketone level: 0.6 mm

3.5 pounds and a tenth of a percent body fat lost. My pace is quickening, slightly. My energy levels are good, and I am enjoying the flexibility of deciding how much and when to run as the days come. Sometimes the plan pans out, sometimes life gets in the way. As long as the weekly volume target is met, it doesn't matter. I doubt I'll ever return to being coached.

Physical therapy, however, remains a useful tool in my arsenal. Tight calves and some IT band issues are under constant surveillance. With just ten days to my first race of the season, I am focusing on form and pace. I have been tempted to begin strength-based workouts like hill repeats. I've stuck to my guns and remain in the "base" training phase until race day. I'll have a good bench mark for my hill skills that way.

I had a great morning showing David the southern end of the Miwok 100k course on Saturday. It was my first run in the Headlands in months. I need to spend more time there. Running just seems easier amidst those panoramic vistas.

 

Training Update: Holy Ketosis!

Comparing these first ten days on the ketogenic diet to my previous attempt is like oil and water. Yesterday afternoon's easy five miles felt spectacular, despite having only 750 calories for the day before my run. I am feeling satiated and energetic. I even had a beer on Monday! I have been starting every day with two hard-boiled eggs and a couple pieces of string cheese, followed by snacks of mixed nuts and green olives. For lunch I'll have a salad, leftover's from dinner or some baked tofu. Dinners have been some form of animal protein and a salad with some veggies. I feel great and the fat is melting off. This stuff really works. Check out the numbers:

January 14th, 2015, day ten

• Weight: 199 (-4.2 lbs for the week)
• Body fat %: 19.48 (-1.42%)
• Ketone level: 1.8 mm

Over 4 lbs in one week isn't what I would call healthy, but it is in line with my ketogenic experience. I weighed 209 lbs on December 9th, so I have lost about 2 lbs per week. Most would agree that rate is healthy but rapid. The ketone number is 50% higher than I was able to achieve last summer. It indicates that I have entered what Dr. Phinney calls the "optimal ketone zone". A few more weeks in this range and I will be "keto-adapted". The bottom line is that my body will be burning almost exclusively dietary and body fat for energy even while exercising. While this may not help my performance, it will allow my loss of body fat to continue at a good clip. And losing that fat will help my performance. Recognizing the diminishing returns will be the challenging part. As my mileage increases, I will be strategically adding some simple carbohydrates into my diet to fuel the additional volume. I am interested to see just how many grams of carbs I can get before slipping out of ketosis. 

For the mean time, I'm having a blast. In this age of instant gratification, seeing the fat slough off so quickly is motivating. Feeling full on less food has been remarkable. Now that I have distanced myself from carbohydrates, I see how addictive they are. They breed hunger. Fat makes you feel fuller. I'm sold, American.

In training, I am in the midst of a rest week (25 miles). Easy runs and strength training. Up next is a three week ramp up to the American Canyon 25k. I have been striving to stay at MAF pace (HR~142) for this base building phase. After AC25k I'll be shifting gears to a strength building phase. Hill repeats, longer long runs, a focus on my TRX routine and other core workouts will be the keys to developing the power I'll need to attack the high volume training that is to come.

Is anyone else out there having as much fun as I am training for 2015? How about a Wanderplace Diet-bet, any takers?

Nutritional Ketosis: Less Beer Less Fun

I would hesitate to use the word miserable. Once my energy returned I felt pretty good, actually. I found myself sated on fewer than 2000 calories per day and I got to eat as much meat and cheese as I could stomach. However, from the moment the first Michelob Ultra hit my lips, something was amiss. My late uncle's words rang in my head: "If you can't enjoy the things you love, what's the point?"

I faltered last weekend after successfully implementing the low-carb/high-fat diet for ten days. I came close to optimal blood ketone levels (1.5 mM - 3.0 mM), maxing out at 1.2 mM. Lethargy came and went, and then came beer. Lots and lots of hand crafted beer. Good friend Dave Cowie officially opened Three Forks Brewery and Bakery on Friday. I did well staying away from the breads, pizzas and pastries. Dave's spectacular brews did me in. I even chose to sleep in the next morning, skipping the Kellerman 5k/10k. I made another go at it this week, but have decided to abandon the experiment for now. I believe the diet has benefits, but is not sustainable. I have a good idea of what is necessary to achieve ketosis in the future, and plan to use it strategically. I will most assuredly try again; likely in the lead up to a big race.

It wasn't even really the beer aspect that made me change my mind. I started craving orange juice. I have long been a fan of smoothies and fruit juices as training fuel. While coconut and almond milks were refreshing, they did not provide enough quench. Of course, I do hear a double IPA calling my name...

Nutritional Ketosis: Week One

They told me I would feel this way: lethargic, low-energy, dull. The symptoms set in on day 6. I had planned to indulge in a nice easy ten mile run, but every time I stood up, I would feel faint. I gobbled fat and protein, trying to raise some energy, but was unsuccessful. 

How I have felt for two days now

Keeping my daily carbohydrate intake below 50 grams has not been difficult. I've even managed to squeeze a couple beers in between handfuls of pepperoni slices, hard boiled eggs and string cheese. My blood ketones rose quickly, breaking the 0.5 ppm mark indicating nutritional ketosis by day three. Since then, my daily measurements have been 0.5 ppm or greater save for one measurement of 0.2 ppm.

This period of adaptation and lethargy could last up to a month, although I am hopeful that it will pass soon. My rapid blood ketone response may indicate a predilection  towards fat metabolism. Four days a week I am hitting the TRX trainer for about an hour. The sessions leave me wrecked. I lack the energy to run most days. By the time my energy returns, I will have to start over at a meager volume and build up to whatever trail race ends up on the schedule for this fall, likely the Golden Hills trail marathon in October. I may drop down to the 5k this weekend at the Gold Country Grand Prix event benefiting the Kellerman Foundation.

Stay tuned for another ketosis update in another week. I'll be posting some examples of foods I've been using, along with some weight/carb intake/blood ketone data. In addition, I am writing a review of the "Medicine and Science in Ultra Endurance Sports" conference held at Squaw Valley prior to Western States last June. It is where I learned about nutritional ketosis and many other subjects such as hypo-natremia. I will do my best to summarize the material for you.

We are all an experiment of one!

Race Report: 2014 Western States 100 Mile

With pacers Torrey and David, photo by Mackenzie Hardwick

Running on the track at Placer High School, hearing “Tropical” John Medinger call out the names of me, my crew, and pacers, I breathed a sigh of relief. Sort of. I hadn't been able to draw a full breath for 30 miles. I crossed the finish line, unable to stop my legs from pumping. Everywhere I looked were friends and family. Tearful hugs with my father, wife and pacer lent to a complete release of composure. I was exhausted. After weighing in for the last time, I sought medical attention for my labored breathing. The transition from the run to recovery was rough. A couple hours passed before the world began to seem right again. 

Running Western States is surreal. More than the accomplishment of a dream, it satisfied a vein of longing which has manifested in many ways throughout my life. Most closely, running States is reminiscent of my time on commercial fishing boats in Alaska. The processes of grinding away at something, and the satisfaction that comes even as you do the task, are similar. Although there was more money and drama in the fishing. In addition, preparing for the race provided a focal point for my training, and suited my analytical tendencies.

Western States week got started with the "Medicine and Science in Ultra-Endurance Sports" conference hosted by Dr. Marty Hoffman and the Wilderness Medical Society. David, one of my pacers, and I attended the two day symposium on topics ranging from logistics and philosophy to biochemistry and cardiology. I appreciated the distraction from race preparation; my lizard brain absorbed the data, hatching new challenges and training paradigms.

Race weekend began Thursday morning with an official welcome, which was held indoors for the first time in recent memory. A cold front swept over the crest of Emigrant Pass that morning bringing rain, fog and wind. The traditional hike to Watson's Monument was truncated, with many opting for a free tram ride to high camp. My hearty crew stuck with the plan, and hiked to high camp and just beyond for the memorial service honoring those friends of Western States who had passed away in the previous year.

Thursday afternoon hosted a string of clinics ranging from "How to Crew a Western States Runner" to "How to Run Western States for First Timers", culminating in a panel of WS veterans including Karl Meltzer, Nick Clark, Meghan Arbogast, Topher Gaylord, Tom Green (pursuing his tenth WS finish and the grand slam in 2014) and more. The energy built as more people arrived in Squaw Valley. I found friends old and new amongst the throngs.
 

Twirly, Victor and Junior

Dissociation and disconnectedness crept in on Friday. My anxiety over somewhat spotty training and exhaustive race preparation gave way to a numbness. In damage control mode, I watched myself go through the motions, distancing myself from growing tension among my crew and the small seed of fear planted in my gut. Six months of preparation finally came to a close at 8 pm Friday night. Nothing left to do but wait. I didn't sleep a wink.

Getting into the race via the Sierra Trailblazer's admin spot meant I had been able to reserve my accommodations a week before the lottery was held. As a result, my room was just yards from the starting line. I relaxed in the comfort of my room, sans bathroom lines, until 4:55 am. The starting corral was a nervous buzz. Subdued voices and thousand yard stares surrounded me as I rocked in place. Pharrell's "Happy" played over the loudspeakers. The dissociation continued, and as the minutes turned to seconds I felt apart from the environment. Gordy Ainsleigh jumped on a soapbox near the starting gantry and began addressing the crowd. With 15 seconds to go, the atmosphere swelled with frenetic energy. Gordy's words became drowned out by the crowd counting down from ten seconds. Sensing the time was at hand, he shouted “Once more unto the breach, my friends, ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH!” The shotgun blast rang through the valley, and we were off.

Approaching the escarpment

Cresting the escarpment with Ken Michal

The stress and anxiety melted away on the climb to Emigrant Pass. Jokes about having nothing left to do but run hit home. I hiked amid the pack, admiring the view of the valley floor covered in fog. Struggling up the steep pitch of the escarpment, I caught up to Ken Michal. We paused at the summit long enough to soak in the views and snap a picture. We were just minutes off 24 hour pace.
 

Sunrise over Lake Tahoe

My plan was simple: eat at least 300 calories per hour (mostly Tailwind), take 5 grams of MAP per hour, stay hydrated, have fun, run hard for a silver buckle if I make it to Foresthill on 25 hour pace. Above all: FINISH.

Emigrant Pass (Mile 3.5): 1:02

Dropping into the the backside of Squaw Valley, the wildflowers provided a technicolor carpet creased by a conga line of colorful runners. I got settled in line after a brief stop to pee in the grandeur that is Granite Chief Wilderness. Everyone was taking it easy and I found myself running near Charlie Ehm, whom I had met soaking in the river after the Canyons 50k. Conversation flowed and the pace was easy. The high country was wet. I slipped while crossing a mud bog, sticking both hands (and the bottles I held) six inches deep into the bog. Thick mud covered everything. Bending my head down to my chest, I fished for the bite valve on my hydration pack. It took a few sips and spits to clear one of the bottle nipples enough for me to continue drinking the calorie rich Tailwind it contained. The icing on the cake? I had to pee again, but feared getting mud in my shorts.

Gorgeous, rugged single track gave way to fire road; Charlie and others picked up the pace. I kept my effort in check, reminding myself to save it for Foresthill. Expecting the Lyons Ridge Aid Station to be close and hearing noise, I was surprised by a throng of spectators in Section 29, a private parcel slated for acquisition by the American River Conservancy. This will enable the entire Western States course to be designated a historical trail from Squaw Valley to Auburn.

Lyons Ridge (Mile 10.5): 2:31

At Lyons Ridge a volunteer helped me wash off the mud and refill my bladder. I got a high five from Race Director Craig Thornley, whom I would see at many points along the course. My pace was comfortable. I asked myself if I could run the same pace at mile 80; the answer was yes. The trail rolled along the ridge line with occasional exposure offering views to the East. Squaw Peak got smaller each time I turned around. 

Climbing Cougar Rock, photo by Keith Facchino

Red Star Ridge (Mile 16): 3:53

I swapped bottles in my drop bag at Red Star Ridge, where the volunteers had a buffet laid out. I should have taken in more solid calories in the high country, but I hurried through the aid stations. The Tailwind was keeping me on track, and all systems were feeling good. What I failed to realize was that the concentrated Tailwind I was using (300 cals/10 ounces) was making me too thirsty. In the cooler temperatures I should have consumed less water.

Red Star Ridge, photo by Keith Facchino

Duncan Canyon (Mile 23.8): 5:37; 1750 calories, 135 oz water

Duncan Canyon Aid Station

My father (“Junior”) and Torrey met me at Duncan Canyon. The temps were climbing and I was struggling with a bloated stomach, the result of drinking more than a gallon of water in five and a half hours. I ate a Tums, restocked ginger chews and MAP, and refilled my pack with ice water. My race plan was to increase my leg turnover on the descent into Duncan Canyon, hoping to practice some faster gears. My stomach wasn’t up to the task. The first low of the race coincided with the traverse of the canyon and the climb to Robinson's Flat. Just as my pity party was getting underway, I was passed by Sam Fiandaca of Brazen Racing. He was recounting his prior Western States experience, a DNF in 2007. His goal was simple: finish. There at Duncan Creek, just over a marathon into the race, it hit me all at once.

You are in the midst of running Western States. 

You may never have this opportunity again. 

Finishing is the only option.

Climbing out of Duncan Canyon, photo by Nate Dunn

From that point on I stayed in low gear. My central governor had taken control; I was in survival mode. I did not want to sabotage myself. After freshening up in the creek with my bandana I set out on the climb to Robinson Flat. The heat was oppressive. I stopped to recover my heart rate a number of times, and felt unable to exploit the more runnable stretches.

Robinson Flat (Mile 29.7): 7:24; 2350 calories, 177 oz water

Getting soaked at Robinson Flat, photo by Christopher Himmel

My weight at Robinson Flat was down about 2% despite all the water in my belly. I was dying of thirst. The crew helped me assess my needs and get restocked. Twirly offered new socks, but I declined, feeling rushed. Mrs. CK was also at hand, soaking me with a sprayer. The bottle swap and resupplying went well and I set out to climb Baldy while eating banana pieces with nut butter. I kept my effort low, feeling like I was holding back. It was difficult, but I was looking forward to the “Western States Half Marathon"; a 13 mile stretch of downhill running to Last Chance. It was another opportunity to put in a good split, but I had to avoid roasting my quads.

Continuing to reserve my effort on the technical descent of Baldy, I settled into a steady effort on Mosquito Ridge leading to Miller's Defeat Aid Station. Time felt distorted, marked only by my hourly dose of MAP. The now familiar trail rolled by like an old film reel. I was picking up positions, so I figured my pace was adequate. In a moment of distraction, I tripped on the dirt road and hit the ground hard, knocking the breath out of me. There were no lasting pains, although my right ankle felt a little vulnerable as I resumed running. I took it easy into the aid station, until I saw the cutoff time: 3:00 pm. I was only 85 minutes ahead!

Miller's Defeat (Mile 34): 8:35

I stopped only long enough to refill a bottle with ice water to douse with, leaving the aid station with a bit of a fire under my ass. I wanted more of a buffer on the 30 hour pace, much less the cutoffs! With a surge of adrenaline giving my stride a bit more urgency, I clipped off a good split to the next station, Dusty Corners.

Dusty Corners (Mile 38): 9:17; 3100 calories, 283 oz water

Junior and Torrey got me resupplied while I drank some ice cold coconut water. Torrey talked me into drinking the remaining Tailwind in my bottle, despite my bloated stomach. I was well ahead of my fueling strategy, but the concentrated Tailwind was making me thirsty. I tried some more Tums, hoping to remedy the discomfort. When asked how I was doing, all I could say was "tired".

Returning to single track provided a little boost, and I picked up the pace on the descent to Pucker Point. I stopped to enjoy the gorgeous view of Screwauger Canyon while taking some MAP. Starchy Grant, whom I had met during the Memorial Day Training Camp, and I shared some miles. We talked for a while, he’d seen my crew guide and asked how my plan was unfolding. I admitted it was overkill; the aid station worksheets needed some refining. By Last Chance Aid Station I was feeling better. Just in time for the canyons.

Last Chance (Mile 43.3): 10:27

It took a long time to mix a new bottle of Tailwind at the aid station, and I opted for an ice water sponge before heading into Deadwood Canyon. A hot spot on my right foot had me concerned. A change of socks was in my Devil’s Thumb drop bag, but John Vonhof was at Michigan Bluff. It seemed silly to stop and change socks only to change them again 8 miles later, so I decided to tough out the canyons and deal with it at Michigan Bluff. Another domino in my mistake chain. The exit from the aid station was littered with signs encouraging specific runners.

The technical descent into Deadwood Canyon should have been an easy task for me, but I remained reserved. Starchy flew past me near the Pacific Slab Bridge. I wanted to follow, but I was stuck in low gear. The North Middle Fork crossing offered relief from the heat, and I took a few minutes to soak in the cool water before tackling the 36 switchbacks to Devil's Thumb. "What's the longest anyone has spent in here?" I asked the volunteers. "What time is it now?" came the response. That one got a lot of laughs.

The climb was a welcome break from running. My power hike proved to be strong, and I passed or dropped most of the runners around me. The sun was lower in the sky than my training runs, resulting in more shade than I expected. A benefit to being in the back of the pack, the canyon ascents did not feel so exposed.

Halfway up the climb I realized my heart rate monitor had not alerted me. At this point in the race I should have been hitting my maximum of 80% while climbing. Instead, it registered 65%. Here I was on the most grueling ascent of the course, in zone one. I tried taking my pulse to confirm and it seemed to correlate with the HR monitor. This confused me and I lost faith in the monitor at that point.

Devil's Thumb (Mile 47.8): 12:01

Devil's Thumb

Cresting the climb, I was ushered to the scale in the aid station. Down 1%. A volunteer asked me how I was doing to which I replied "tired." Although she told me I looked very calm and collected, very focused, she counseled me to stop drinking until my weight loss resumed. I explained that his would be difficult, as I was drinking my calories. While I mixed a new bottle of Tailwind, Ken Michal "dazzled" the aid station. His energy overflowed, and spread through the crowd. Before I could get his attention, he was bounding off into the woods, hollering like no one else can. I wouldn't see him again until the track in Auburn.

Playing leap frog with a few runners through Deadwood, I began reflecting on my expectations. Momentum took on a life of its own. My sense of detachment had grown to a point where I felt great peace, despite the discomfort in my feet. My position in the back of the pack did not bother me; nor did I feel the apathy which creeps in towards the end of a 50 mile run. Bjorg Austrheim-Smith said she approached Western States as if it were a sculpture. She’d chip away at each section, putting it to bed upon completion. I contemplated her philosophy many times while traversing the canyons.

A symphony of one at Deadwood Cemetery

Amidst these musings came sweet music wafting through the trees. Just outside the Deadwood Cemetery a lone cellist played the theme to Chariots of Fire. His hat lay in the middle of the road, filled with tokens of appreciation. I wondered how many gels were in that hat! I thanked him for providing an unexpected flourish to my day then hooked onto a train of runners for the descent to El Dorado Creek. Caution prevailed and I kept holding back despite the runnable terrain. I stopped to take a picture, catching a glimpse of the support I was receiving via Facebook notifications, when my phone died.

El Dorado Canyon

El Dorado Creek (Mile 52.9): 13:14

They were running low on ice at the aid station. I made my stop brief, knowing that Michigan Bluff was less than 3 miles away. My feet went numb when I was running, but the pain returned while walking. The shade grew darker as I climbed, dark enough to remove my sunglasses. Throughout the canyons I had been leap frogging with a young runner who was blazing fast on the downhill sections, but was struggling on the climbs. I came across him sitting by the side of the trail. He was built like an elite runner and looked out of place at the back of the pack. He remarked that he was not having the race he had expected.

Michigan Bluff (Mile 55.7): 14:15; 4300 calories, unknown water

Assessing the damage at Michigan Bluff, photo by Christopher Himmel

TLC from Christopher Himmel, photo courtesy of same

Ann helps me get back on track, photo by Christopher Himmel

Twirly enthusiastically greeted me at Michigan Bluff. I could tell the whole crew was excited. I had only one thought on my mind: fix my feet. I collapsed onto a cot and removed my shoes. My crew surrounded me, asking what they could bring. My coach Ann appeared out of nowhere and began asking tons of questions. How long have your feet been bad? How is your stomach? What have you been eating? Are you peeing? How do you feel? In the end, we determined that I was still in pretty good shape. It was time to start adding in broth and solid foods at the aid stations, as I had consumed too much water. Lauri Abrahamsen walked up and took a look at my feet. As her expression turned from greeting to horror, I felt my only pang of doubt.

Macerated feet at mile 55, photo by Christopher Himmel

John Vonhof working his craft, photo by Christopher Himmel

John Vonhof addressed my feet, and said there wasn’t much I could do but keep them dry. He drained a couple of toe blisters,  leaving the bloody ones closed for fear of infection. He slathered on some Run-Goo-type cream and we put on a fresh set of socks. I ate some potato with salt, drank two cups of broth, three cups of Coke and left the station with pb&j squares in a baggie. I had spent 25 minutes at the aid station. Light was waning, and despite taking the backup flashlight from the crew bag, I wanted to get to Bath Road before dark. Torrey would be there with my headlamp and 680 lumen flashlight.

I walked the fire roads leading to Volcano Canyon while eating the pb&j. Tony “Endorphin Dude" Nguyen lent me some energy as he hiked back towards Michigan Bluff. As the trail bent towards the canyon I picked it up, trying to make my way to the creek before it got too dark. In my haste, I took a tumble that could have ended my race. On a steep switchback, I caught my toe and careened off the trail, landing a couple of meters down the hill in a bush. A runner 25 yards in front of me heard the fall and returned uphill to make sure I was not harmed.

Arriving at the aid station just as the last bit of dusk fell, I looked around for Torrey. He wasn't there. I grabbed a handful of M&M's and drank a couple cups of Coke before heading up the road in the dark. Surprisingly, I was not perturbed by Torrey's absence. I could find my way by the lights of other runners, and I was still moving forward.

Foresthill, photo by Aaron Mount

Halfway up the road David and Torrey showed up and I vomited everything that was on my mind, mostly how hard it was to chew pieces of ginger. I picked up the pace along Foresthill Road. In past years, when Twirly and I would leave Michigan Bluff after packing up the aid station, I would honk at the runners along this section of road. As people now honked for me, it hit me again: I’m running Western States.

Foresthill (Mile 62): 16:18; unknown calories or water
 

Foresthill was a circus. After weighing in, I cruised through the food tables, drinking some soda and broth. When I checked out of the station, I was surrounded by my crew, and multiple friends who had come out to support me. I was amazed at the crowd around me. Every face I saw looked familiar. I changed my shirt, swapped my hat for a head band and head lamp. I threw the heart rate monitor strap at someone, claiming it was lying to me. I set out for California Street with David and Torrey and a bottle of caffeinated Tailwind. I explained to David that I would need a change of shoes and the socks from Junior's crew bag when I saw him at the river. Then Torrey and I turned left onto California Street and hit the trail.

Formula One pitstop at Foresthill, photo by Mackenzie Hardwick

My feet were feeling pretty tender on the downhill sections of trail. The sensation was not new; during graduate research hiking Paria Canyon my feet developed infected blisters, which I had to endure for 40+ miles. My GI discomfort continued to hinder my running ability. About two miles out of Foresthill, I stopped to pee and realized I needed a pit stop in the woods. I grumbled about how nice it would have been if the urge had struck in Foresthill where I had access to a porta-potty but realized it was wasted energy and began looking for a suitable spot. Cal Street is single track trail cut into a steep slope for most of its length. Had it been daylight I would have been out of luck. However, once I turned off my light, I was invisible. Once back on the trail I was feeling much better.

Bruce LaBelle was at the Cal 1 (Dardanelles) Aid Station, little more than a wide spot in the trail. He brought me a cup of broth with rice. I drank two or three cups of ginger ale, a welcome change from Coke.  Suddenly, Bruce put his cell phone up to my ear. Ann's voice was on the other end. I told her I was still fighting a bloated stomach and she reminded me that sucking on ice chips had helped her in the past. So I grabbed a cup of ice and hit the trail.

It took a couple miles of slower pace, but the ice trick worked! As long as I had ice in my mouth I felt like I could run without significant discomfort. My chest felt tight, as if my pack was restricting my breathing. I mentioned this to Torrey, who quietly acknowledged it but did not offer any opinion. I'd never felt such a sensation before and it scared me a little bit. Then we hit the elevator shaft: a steep, technical descent. I had to walk as my feet hurt too much to run. By the time we reached the bottom I knew it was time to take an Ibuprofen.

The new moon made the stars shine. I could see them in my peripheral vision as I ran through the tunnel cast by our lights. Dust hung thick in the air, sparkling in the light of my headlamp. As I approached runners, reflective patterns on their gear made them look like firemen, or space ships, or Christmas trees. My swinging flashlight made shadows appear to be rushing towards me. At one point I leapt awkwardly into the air to avoid one, eliciting a concerned query from Torrey. The tightness in my  chest turned into wheezing and shortness of breath.

As midnight passed, Torrey asked how I was holding up. Sleep deprivation was setting in; I started babbling about the time I spent 60 hours fishing for halibut near Kodiak, Alaska. I think what came out my mouth resembled something like “starting to feel like I’m fishing.”

By the time we hit Cal 2 (Peachstone), I knew I could run again. The Ibuprofen took the edge off my feet and my legs felt great: no soreness or fatigue! All the caution in the early miles paid off and I left Cal 2 running fast enough to begin passing whoever was in my sights. The next 7 miles from Cal 2 to the river were my high point of the race. I felt awesome, as long as I had ice in my mouth. Every time I saw a runner ahead, I knew I could catch and pass them. I ran to Six Minute Hill, hiked that hard to stay in front of those I had passed, then resumed rabbit hunting in the dark. It was awesome.


Whenever I felt my energy flagging, I took a big pull of caffeinated Tailwind. The sound of the river diminished but I knew we had just a few miles to the river crossing. We hit the fire road and my body told me it was time to ease off. I had been pushing hard since Foresthill and needed a rest. I blew through the aid station on the near side. The water was refreshing, even in the cool temperatures at 2 am.

Rucky Chucky river crossing, photo by Keith Facchino

Rucky Chucky Near (Mile 78): 21:01 

Rucky Chucky shoe change, photo by Aaron Mount

Upon reaching the other side Aaron called out my name. He gave me a cold Boost and a peanut butter cup I had planned as a treat for getting this far. I looked around for David who was to have brought my shoes and change of socks. Aaron had not seen him. It did not take long for me to realize that it was time to continue; waiting around was not an option. David arrived just as we were leaving the aid station. However, he had not brought any socks from Junior's crew bag.

Changing into dry shoes in wet socks was not an option I cared to try. In the midst of this dilemma, Aaron produced socks from his bag. He just happened to have a pair! This saved my race. I would have been in sad shape if I had to run another 13 miles in wet socks. The hike to Green Gate was bizarre. People were everywhere, headed in both directions on the trail. We hiked in silence save for David’s banter. Torrey had provided a solid surface for me to bounce off while I processed the experience. Now sleep deprived and tired, David's job was to nurture me home.

Green Gate (Mile 79.8): 21:53

At Green Gate, I heard a quesadilla call my name, I washed it down with a couple cups of broth and some soda. I brushed my teeth (h/t to Eric Schranz for the idea). It was blissful. I got into a dry shirt, changed my headband and hit the trail. We traversed increasingly familiar trail towards Auburn Lake Trails. David’s energy and guidance kept me on track. I continued sucking on ice, running the rolling trail. Every time the trail turned left, I expected to find Barb's Bench, about a mile from the ALT aid station. A runner in American Canyon groaned when I answered his question about the distance to the aid station (about 2.5 miles, I said).

Auburn Lake Trails (Mile 85.2): 23:35

I rummaged through my drop bag at ALT, not sure what I was looking for. I ate some Tums then proceeded to eat a slice of quesadilla and drink some broth. I left the aid station feeling energized; my legs still felt great. The ice had my GI distress under control. I ran the downhill section to Browns Bar comfortably, but my respiratory distress was growing. The wheezing became more pronounced and the shortness of breath made it difficult to run on the flats, much less an uphill grade. The birds began to sing, and the sky brightened to the East. My highs and lows oscillated faster, dotted with moments of clarity and an acute sensitivity to my surroundings.

As we approached the Browns Bar Aid Station, music wafted through the trees. The volunteers there are notorious for altering the volume of their music to disorient runners as they approach, and I was hearing strange parallax as we skirted the ravine. David said he was having flashbacks to Burning Man. Adding to the surrealness of the moment was meeting Hal Koerner in the aid station.

Browns Bar (Mile 89.9) 24:56

I had some ice left in my cup from ALT, and asked the other volunteer if I could have some ice. He said "Sure, no problem!", and then just looked at me. "Where is it?" I asked. "Right there in your cup," he replied. I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion. I felt like I was channeling Bud Abbott. Then I realized he did not know I had arrived with the cup in my hand. "I'm the one who is supposed to be confused, not you!" I exclaimed to him. In hindsight, I probably came off as grumpy, but I'm sure he'd seen worse. I got a handshake and a hoot from Hal as I ran down the ravine towards Quarry Road.

By the time I got to the road I could hardly breathe. David counseled me to keep it easy and not stress. I focused on keeping a measured effort. Plenty of time to get to the track. Ten miles in five hours is walkable. David became my central governor, telling me to slow down whenever my wheezing increased. I tried not to get frustrated but the rest of my body felt so good it was disappointing to have my lungs holding me back. Respiratory distress was not on my list of potential maladies and I had no plan to counter the problem. Despite my condition I continued to pick up some carnage.

On the climb to Highway 49, Brent, the runner who was the walking dead in the canyons, flew past. His pacer complained that he'd made his runner angry and now he was paying the price. I knew I wouldn't be able to do much until we got to Cool Meadow and the descent to No Hands Bridge, so I kept my pace steady and relentless, saving my energy for one last push.

Highway 49 (Mile 93.5) 26:03

Junior gave me a chair to sit in, saying "you look strong!" while I changed my socks. David brought me some soda and broth. I drank some Boost and some coconut water, changed into a hat and sunglasses, and dropped off my lights and phone, finally. Still struggling to breathe, I kept my measured pace on the climb to Cool Meadow. I stopped to rest for a moment when John Nagel and his pacer came up behind me. I was surprised to see him; he's much faster than me. One hundred miles can sort people out in many different ways. Right behind John was Larry, a runner from Phoenix whom I had met in Deadwood Canyon. Both Larry and John picked up the pace as we neared the meadow, but I couldn't sustain any effort on the flat trail. I kept trying though, and found a rhythm just as we began the descent to No Hands Bridge.

I absolutely love this section of trail: slightly technical but fast. I tripped a couple of times, but managed to stay on my feet. David did an excellent job of reminding me to pick up my feet in the rocky sections and I easily passed Larry and John before we got to the bridge. I felt like I was flying.

No Hands Bridge (Mile 96.8): 27:03

No Hands Bridge on Sunday morning: priceless. Photo by David Leeke

I laughed out loud when I arrived at No Hands. They were playing "Happy", an appropriate bookend to the run. Aaron gave me a fresh bottle of Tailwind and a bottle of water. I changed into my last shirt, a Sierra Trailblazers tee. I gave him my pack and set out across the bridge.  The finish was close and I could hardly contain my excitement. I was about to finish Western States! John and Larry passed me by and I resigned to walk up to Robie Point as I couldn't breathe enough to do anything else. I resumed my steady hike, knowing that a buckle was in my future. I saw Tony Nguyen again and his effusive energy brought a smile to my weary face.

Robie Point (Mile 98.9): 27:46

The home stretch, photo by Luis Escobar

Twirly and crew met us at Robie Point. The hike up the hill was one long celebration. Spectators offered congratulations every step of the way. Never in my life have I felt so much admiration and support from strangers. Whenever the road flattened out, I ran. Twirly worried that I would drop her. As I crossed the white bridge and made the turn for the track, I realized the dissociation was gone. The dream became hyper-real. Time slowed down but I couldn’t hold back my pace once I saw the grass on the field.

The lap around the track felt like it was in slow motion. My name over the loud speaker cemented my arrival. It seemed everywhere I looked were family and friends cheering me into the finishing chute. 

Can you tell I'm already hatching plans for next time? Photo by Keith Facchino

Finish (100.2): 28:06:23

Finish line relief with pacer David Leeke, photo by Mackenzie Hardwick

Hugging it out with dad, photo by Aaron Mount

I provided a blood sample and received an EKG as part of a cardiac function research study. A doctor listened to my chest with a stethoscope and gave me a couple blasts off an inhaler. Friends came by the medical tent to congratulate me while I recovered. After 20 minutes or so, my breathing had improved. The consensus was that I had inhaled too much dust over the course of the run.

100 mile toes

With about three hours to relax before the awards ceremony, I enjoyed drinking Pliny the Elder and eating pizza in the shade of the awards tent. The stories flying around the tent were rich and I got to meet some really great people. Sixty-three year old Tom Green crossed the line with less than 200 seconds to spare, securing his 1000 mile buckle and the first notch in his 2014 Grand Slam effort. Ultrasportslive.tv asked Twirly and me to do an interview.
 

With stellar Race Director Craig Thornley

Crew chiefs Twirly and Junior, photo by Mackenzie Hardwick

Twirly rocked as Crew Chieftess. Her leadership kept the crew on task and in touch with what was going on. David and Torrey brought me home comfortably and safely. Junior was invited on this adventure for his attention to detail. The old Lieutenant Colonel did not disappoint. In fact, his energy pre-race was almost distracting. Once the gun went off he was there for me in spades. Having my father witness my first 100 miler was priceless. I will hold this experience close to my heart. He never got to see me in action as a commercial fisherman but a front row seat at Western States is a worthy surrogate in my book. Thanks to the rest of the crew: Linda, Mackenzie, Christopher, Aaron, and other friends (who joined the party along the way). Without their support - and Aaron's socks! - I would have had a rough time. Thanks also to supporters Victory Sportdesign and Trkac Running Store. Their contributions helped to make the entire undertaking a success.

I must acknowledge the thousands of volunteers (3 for every runner). The complex infrastructure was seamless and the aid stations are second to none. States is world class, through and through. Every step of the way I felt I received elite-level attention and support. From Thursday morning to Sunday night, I too, was a rock star. This race is worth every penny.

Finally, Ann Trason deserves a lot of credit for keeping me fit and sane through injury-related setbacks in training. Her perspective and guidance kept me from over-reacting to my body's requests for time off in the midst of personal volume records. A nod goes to Mauka Running, for providing a strong base in the winter months.

Besides my feet and respiratory distress, I am happy with the experience. I stayed within myself and kept it easy all day. I know I left a lot of room for improvement and I’m already hoping to give it another shot. The lessons I learned are applicable to shorter distances, not just 100 miles. The concentrated Tailwind ended up making me too thirsty, resulting in the bloated stomach. I'll be examining my water intake and dialing it back accordingly. I was too reserved in the high country; my low gear was too low and I did not eat enough solid food in the early miles. If I had taken Twirly's offer of socks at Robinson Flat, I might not have ended up in the medical tent at Michigan Bluff. For all my planning, I was slow through the aid stations. I need to simplify. Ultimately, I feel that my respiratory distress over the final 30 miles was the largest factor. I've been dreaming up various ways to mitigate the dust, and plan to carry an inhaler in the future. The immediate relief it provided would have changed my race if I'd had it on the trail.

My post race blood work indicated that I was borderline hypernatremic (excessive blood sodium) and had mild muscle damage. I'm not sure if it was all the broth I drank in the later miles, or the Tailwind, but I obviously didn't need any more salt. My CPK was well below average, indicating my legs could have taken more of a beating. 

I realize now that I have been completing, not competing at, the ultra distances. My goals have been to finish comfortably and have fun. In the future, I think I'll explore outside my comfort zone. I'll probably still have fun!

"100 miles is not that far" - Karl Meltzer

But 28 hours is a long time!