Western States Lottery Results – I’m IN.

When I added my name to the lottery just minutes after it opened my hopes of being selected had to be tempered as the entrant list of Western States hopefuls quickly grew to 1,600+ extremely qualified runners.  I found myself distracting my thoughts of the impending lottery date, Dec. 5th.  I was completely resolved to not being selected, yet having a 2nd “ticket” for the 2011 race.  Besides, by then I’d have at least 2 100 mile race experiences to draw from for a wildly successful Western States finish.

As Dec. 5th approached I couldn’t take it so I did what I works best, I escaped in a trail race – the Woodside 50km.  As luck would have it my homage to the trail gods did not go unnoticed.  Moments after crossing the finish line following a 31 mile scamper through the redwoods Jen imparted the good news on me.  My name was drawn in the lottery!  I was going to be running the MOST historic race in ultrarunning history – the ancestor of all 100 mile trail races – the Boston marathon of trail runs!  I’ll be running Western States in 2010!

My focus now turns to training.  Of all 100 mile races this one brings out the BEST in all runners.  For now, I’ll concentrate on healing or more appropriately rest and recovery.  Then comes the base building, cross-training, hill work, long runs, speedwork, refinement of fueling strategy, night running, and build-up racing.  EXCITING!

Thorpe Mt / Mount Rainer - Photo by Glenn Tachiyama

Okay, time to finish this off before I forget all the pain

Following Stampede Pass (33) the course continues on the PCT all the way to Olallie Meadow (47) – with one other aid station in between Meadow Mountain (40).  The stand out is simply the trail – beautiful.  It’s meandering single-track filled with huckleberries and views you really can’t beat.  Captivating wonderful forest aside, it’s damn hard doing 2 back-to-back aid stations that are 7 miles apart!  And there were some bees before Meadow Mt. – ouch!

Darkness hit about the time I made it to Mirror Lake, just outside Olallie.  There were campers just off the trail that yelled, “How much farther ya have?”  To which I replied, about 55 more miles!  Glancing across the glassy lake, in the solitary ‘hush’ of the forest, I replayed what I said in my head.  And it hit me, WOW I’m gonna run through the night… and then some.

I continued on without a headlamp, savoring my night vision – sneaking up on other runners.  The trail leading to Olallie was a wonderful rolling forest trail.  The night invigorated me; I was feeling great.  I made it to Olallie and was welcomed by my wonderful crew that immediately sat me down and taped my right foot (I had told them at Stampede my right foot was next – and damn I had to wait a long time for it).  I ate freshly sauteed periogees  YUM!  I was feeling great here and pumped at being almost 1/2 done.  Off I went to meet my crew “just down the trail” at Hyak (53).

This is where the course got phenomenally hard and defined, via example, what a hard mountain course is.  Immediately out of Olallie the trail turned into dry creek bed overgrown with shrubs.  It was ankle twisting mayhem that eventually emerged onto a dirt road.  Thinking I only had  a few miles to Hyak it was monumentally disappointing to peer hundreds of feet down the mountain to see the minuscule car headlights tracing out Highway 90.  I’m talking 1,500′ down.  And Hyak lay down there, literally on the highway.  In previous years the course would drop down the hill via a ropes section (yes, you rappelled down ropes!), then through an abandoned train tunnel.  Not this year, it was “the rock slalom” because the tunnel is condemned.  I reached the summit when my headlamp caught the outline of a ski tram.  Following the glow-sticks we went down.  Way down and FAST.  There really wasn’t a trail, only a series of glow-sticks setup near boulders that outlined a psuedo-switchback like pattern.  The only evidence of another runner was a faint halogen light bouncing 500′ below me as we shared the barren underbelly of an off-season winter wonderland.

Fifteen minutes or so passed and I caught up to my sole competitor on the hill.  As it turns out it was one of many North Carolinians in the race – Gumbie, his trail name.  We exchanged quick comments about the hellacious nature of the trail behind us.  Realizing he was short with words I pressed forward leaving him with his peace.  Ten steps out of  the conversation my race would twist into an entirely new experience.  Gumbie’s silence erupted into a heaving of the god’s lunch seemingly evoking thunder from the skies.  The barren hillside above captured the sound waves and projected them to a focal point at the center of my brain.  My stride lengthened and my cadence increased yet I still heard Gumby’s guttural upheavals echoing from the trees as I darted into a pine forest.  As if instinctual my stomach began slowly tightening one knot after the next.  Nausea swept my mind and I pressed forward faster while cycling my mind through pointless crap in an attempt to flush Gumby’s presence from my evening with the stars.

Gumbie at CCC100 - Photo by Chihping Fu

My body stopped short of vomiting – for better or worse.  Yet I was left with cycling bouts of nausea and churning stomach pains.  It was about 10:00 PM and the true mental component of running 100 miles had begun NOW.   A quick transition from dirt road to a paved ski retreat road place me running through a vacation house neighborhood.  I was greeted with cheers by a family having cocktails on their 2nd story patio.  I somehow managed a, “You guys are awesome!”  To which they replied, “We know!”  Nothing like a few glasses of wine cure a case of the humbles!  It was a welcomed mental diversion.

A mile to go and I arrived at Hyak, mile awesome (aka 53).  Mrs. Claus ran me in wearing a skimpy Santa outfit to which I was elated to see Jen, Sona, and Hao in a Christmas backdrop of twinkle lights.  Unfortunately my stomach wasn’t in a festive mood.  If ya gave me a bucket with a million dollars in it I probably would’ve just puked in it then carried on up the road.  I ate what I could then paced out slowly with Jen and Hao who were able to walk with me for a good 15 minutes.  It was so nice to hear and see Jen – I missed her.  We talked about politics (not really – I hate politics) and how I was feeling.  Hao offered superb advice on how to tackle the climb ahead.  Eventually it came time for them to depart for the drive to Kachess Lake AS (67).

On the climb to Kecheelus Ridge I just existed.  One foot following the next slowly climbing the hill before me.  I was passed plenty with little drive to re-claim my spot in the finishers line.  My caloric tank was empty and my body was refusing fuel;  I continued to drop into an energy deficit hole.   I made Kecheelus Ridge AS (60) and re-gained a bit of an appetite.  As luck would have it, the inside of the AS tent smelled like vomit.  Like a boxer I was forced to stick (grab food) and move (run out of the tent) for fear that my nausea would again build.  I did this a few times then ran, actually ran out of the aid station.  My feast was paying immediate dividends.  I was also extremely excited that the next aid station was Kechess Lake (68) where I’d see Jen and pick up my friend and pacer Hao.

The "Chair" at Kachess Lake

Kechess Lake couldn’t come soon enough.  I rolled in at 2:20AM (~16 hours running) exhausted.  I came in earlier than Hao expected giving me some extra ‘chair time’ – no complaints from me.  The trail to follow is called “The Trail from Hell”.  Contrary to it’s name, or maybe because of it, I really enjoyed it.  Hao and I were crawled through downed trees, down hills, up hills, constantly re-finding the trail (it has a tendency to disappear on ya) while jumping glow-stick to glow-stick.  Nobody uses these trails except us crazies – I found it therapeutic.   One of many beautiful sites on the trail was peering across the lake and seeing the reflection of another runner’s headlamp smeared across it… and the silence all around.

We eventually hit a real river crossing, as opposed to the many little ones along the Trail from Hell.  I mentally marked where I should step to avoid soiling my feet.  In retrospect I have no idea why I bothered – next time, just plow through!  The Mineral Creek AS (73) beckoned just beyond the river.  I crossed, then Hao.  I mentioned to Hao, “I guess this guy didn’t make it”, pointing to a severed foot on the ground (don’t worry, it was a Halloween prop).  I emerged from the woods into the aid station and just sat.  There was little desire to eat or drink.  Hao and the aid station volunteers frantically raced to grab my drop bag.  They hurried their hearts out to get me that blessed bag as fast as they could.  When they finally did, I said “Thanks, but I don’t want anything out of it.”  What an asshole!  Hao was awesome and grabbed some soup and watermelon for me.  I nibbled and just sat – dazzed, tired, lost.  If it weren’t for the draw that Jen and Sona were in the car 2 miles up the dirt road I may have never left that chair.

They were, thankfully.  Hao and I left for a long early morning march up hill to No Name Road.  At this point I was at a loss as to how I could fix my ailing stomach that continued to cramp.  The idea pushed to the forefront of my mind while weighting my situation was:  SLEEP.  That was it!  I’d sleep for 10 minutes and all would be well with the world.  About 1 mile up the road I saw 2 figures walking towards Hao and I, one cloaked in a familiar red blanket.  Wait a minute, it was Jen and Sona out for a morning Franz finding hike.  Seeing them as day broke was such a mental jolt of positive happiness.  We jabbered about each of our unique adventures beginning YESTERDAY, sharing smiles and laughter all around.

I made it to the van and attempted to crash.  Granted it was nice to lie down but my mind wasn’t about to turn-off nor was my stomach going to give up it’s complaints.  As the universe would have it, my cell phone was in the car with the alarm still set for 6:30AM from yesterday and 2 minutes into my nap, guess what time it was.  Yes, 6:30AM.  ::Beep::Beep::Beep::  I ignored it momentarily then popped out of the van in disgust (with the alarm still going off).  Okay, so the nap wasn’t meant to be.  It was time to roll.  I think I had some Ensure here, but I definitely took some with me and it was a life saver.  I had so few calories in me that I was dragging along.  Every calorie in at this point absolutely kept me up-right on the trail.  I said my farewells to Jen and said see ya at Silver Creek AS (96).  Yup, I had 20 more miles until I’d see her again.  20 miles of the most difficult part of the course:  The Needles and the ascent to the highest peak of the course, Thorpe Mountain.

No Name Ridge Ascent

Hao and I shuffled up No Name Road as the sun rose and the temperatures transitioned to a toasty August day.  At this point my right Achilles was tightening giving me a nasty limp.  Fortunately it loosened up after we got moving (aka mostly hiking).  From No Name Ridge AS (80) to Thorpe Mt AS (84) the real course began.  The temperature began to ratchet-up compounded with the fact that we were mostly exposed on sparsely wooded ridge lines.  I was faced with the Needles ahead.  I didn’t conjure the quote at the time but re-reading the runner’s manual this quote holds very true:  Springsteen says, “Don’t call for your doctor, even he knows it’s too late. It’s not your lungs this time, its your heart that holds your fate.”

When at mile 80+ and you face inclines akin to  Devil’s Thumb on the Western States course… except they go straight up the hill – what switchbacks?  It’s an unquantifiable energy reserve that pulls you forward.   Something deep inside propels one foot in front of the next in deep plodding steps that rumble your body from head to toe.  Thump, thump, thump on the pine needle covered single track below.  The drive to contract and release your leg muscles saps glycogen from your brain sending thoughts spiraling into a stupefied abyss of lack less attention.  I proceeded 4 steps then stopped and wobbled, dizzied with absolute depletion.  I would then re-group and repeat.

Somehow, even with a little running on the downhills, we made it to the Thorpe Mountain AS (80).  One hundred meters out I heard a yell, “Hey redhead, what’s your number?”.  I thought to myself, “Ohhh yea, I have red hair?  Oh yea, I do.”  I took my brain a good minute to process the demand until I yelled out my number.  When summitting into the AS a volunteer presented Hao and I with a 2 choice decision.  To me, it was like he was speaking Spanish – I could understand some words but couldn’t capture the complete thought.  Hao stepped up and answered, “We’ll summit first, then hit the aid station.”  Forward to Thorpe Mountain we climbed, about a 2 mile up-and-down side trip up the main trail.   Since the start of the Needles I had my gaze locked onto the trail directly in front of my feet.  When I pulled my head up I saw Mount Rainer plastered majestically across the dream-like landscape surrounding me.  Wow.    The ranger station at the top has to be THE best office in the world – particularly on that day.  I signed the registry and commented, “Breathtaking, literally.”  Returning to the AS I mentioned this is my first 100, with a smile!  The AS volunteer, obviously a hardened ultramarthoner himself, laughed and said, “He just doesn’t get it does he?  He’s still smiling!”

After descending the peak we had to tackle one last Needle then a LONG downhill to Silver Creek (96).  I had some energy now but my legs were in the initial stages of barking back.  Mainly my feet began to ache from the 25 hours of pounding.  My body  cycled through a game of what hurts more:  my right Achilles or my feet.  Each pain having it’s say every 20 minutes or so.  Hao reminded me it’s going to hurt either way walking or running – you may as well run and get it over with.  I sounded like a wounded animal in heat grunting and groaning in these Cascades.  Every single downhill step hurt firing through my forefoot convincing me that my foot strike location was now raw flesh.  We rolled into French Cabin (86).  I had a Starbucks Mocha drink – heavenly – and sparked up a bit.

Hans-Dieter (and 69 year old ultrarunning GOD) caught me and rolled out of French Cabin like a surgeon — in and out with extreme precision.  That caught my eye.  I must catch him.  Each of us could taste the end and the desire to finish pulled even the most hobbled runner towards it.  2nd, 3rd, … 20th winds were being had.  I didn’t want to catch Hans because he was old and I wanted to beat him; it was two-fold.  1) I thought it was be hilarious to form a “Hans and Franz” runner’s train.  2) He has a wise runners aura about him that you could feel.  That was energy I could draw from.  It’s that pull you get from other runner’s while on the trail.

We caught him and ran together until Silver Creek (96).  Then another runner, John, joined the train.  Fueling off our proximity to the finish, the amazing downhill single track, and the supreme runner’s wisdom in Hans we all just clicked and just ran.  There was mild conversations – I was mainly in the back and in, what I could determine, the most pain.  Occasionally Hans would check on me and ask, “Franz, are you okay?”  Many times I wanted to stop but kept pressing to stick with the guys.  It was amazing the energy we funneled off of each other.

About a mile out of Silver Creek the trail turned to a steep decent.  The group pulled away from me due to my hobbling foot pain.  I withdrew into myself as a coping mechanism.  Very little talking to be had here.  It was step, then grimace, and repeat.  Suddenly WHAM.  I remembered Hao and I were picking up Jen to run from Silver Creek AS to the finish.  YES, YES, YES!!!  We saw hikers coming up the trail and a dog waiting to pace his owner.  This meant we were close.  Then, the joyous sound of an aid station.  I burst in blissfully enthralled in being at the last AS.  There was Jen and Sona.  And, the HEAT.  All of the sudden it was so hot all around.  I was overheating from a combination of the last exertion and the lack of wind from being stationary.  My being shuttered with heat as I felt I was on the verge of collapse.  “Ice, do you have ice?”  “No” they said.  Jen poured water over my head.  I just stood there, confused by something – I didn’t know what.  I thought I was waiting for someone – I didn’t know who.

Jen snapped to and pressed “Okay, are you going to drop here or are we going to get going?”  That snapped me to attention!  I said “Hell no!  I just ran 96 miles to get here.  I’m not dropping now!”

Four miles to go.  Just walking perked me up.  We laughed and marveled at what the 2 days had thrown at each of us individually and together.  I took an opportunity to educate Jen on the subtle differences between “girl” pee spots and “boy” pee spots.  Hey, you’re out there for 28 hours – your entertainment can emerge from strange places.  I also proclaimed to Jen, “Sweetheart, I want you to know that the reason I’m not looking you in the eye right now is because I’ll cry.  It’s not that I don’t love you I just don’t want to cry.”  She understood.

The miles went by quickly.  It’s amazing how much faster you can move on flat ground, even after running for 28 hours.  With our highway crossing insight the run was on.  I began picking up the pace, Hao was calling me the king of flats.  We crossed highway 90 but to my dismay we were 1 exit west of where I had invisioned forcing a lengthy run along a frontage road that beat the hell out of me.  I was pushing hard wearing every ounce of pain on my face in a flushed jaw knawing grimmace.  I did a look back to find a older gentleman gaining ground.

The Big Finish

I pressed harder but my adreneline could only carry me so far.  I pronounced, “I can’t see the finish line.  I need to visualize the finish line.”  Then came to a screaching walk.  “I’ve got to take a break”.  Hao was great as was Jen.  Both were cheering me to pull in a big finish.  The older gentleman closed the gap and passed with a friendly, “Come on let’s sprint it in.”  Deep down, that lit a fire so deep inside.  I began the ramp-up; once stopped running after 98 miles it just doesn’t happen.  There’s a build-up.  The finish line emerged ahead following a brief run along the railroad.  I crossed filled with 2 days of relief.  To the happy smiles of all around.  And, in the wonderful company of those I love.

A million thanks to Jen for everything – she’s my ultragoddess,  Sona for being the steady hand in helping crew, and Hao for being the greatest pacer in the world.

If asked would you do it again?  The answer would be YES!  The same distance, the same crew, the same race… everything was perfect.  Wow, I ran 100 miles in 28 hours 46 minutes!

Summiting Thorp Mountain - Hyponotized by Mt. Rainier

Before I write any resembling a race report I must profusely thank my wife Jen for her abundant support throughout not only the race itself but during the months preceding while I was  moonlighting with the trails. She’s wonderful, supportive, and a tremendous strength in my life. Without her sacrifices (there are many) this would not be possible.  I may be the one running but it’s her that gives me wings.

I must also thank my sister Sona, who’s not a runner, for soaking up “ultra” and crewing me through the night – a special kudos for white knuckling the rental minivan over a rocky landslide covering the road to Olallie Meadows AS!

Prior to the race I was fortunate enough to be offered the pacing services of Hao Liu.  I’m so glad that he took the time out of his busy schedule to both pace AND crew for me.  Being in the 100 mile club himself and a coach for Team in Training he was superb in adding depth to Jen and Sona’s ultra knowledge then stepping in to guide me the final 32 miles!

I offer  my infinite gratitude to the Coastside Running Club for their support of all things running.  The shinning standouts are Eric Vaughan, George Miller, and Ron Little.  If I hadn’t of stumbled upon the CRC through Eric’s direction, my life would have been vastly different today.  There’s so much positive & supportive energy amongst these gentlemen (and the families behind them) that without it I’m certain running would’ve fallen as just another fleeting hobby – likely replaced with a 1 year stint in amateur curling to then be ousted by competitive gardening.

The Course and My Race Expectations

Franz with his Warpaint On

The Cascade Crest Classic 100 was founded in 1999 – a single 100 mile loop centered in the small town of Easton, WA which also sits at the low elevation point of the course of 2,200′.  The course covers almost 21,000′ of elevation gain and loss with a high point of 5,840′ at the summit of Thorp Mountain at mile 84.  Aside from the fire roads, the course’s terrain is very technical – even more so with this year’s new tunnel bypass section I’m coining “the downhill rock slalom” which challenges even the “trail from hell” for the ranking of most difficult section.

This being my first 100 mile race I had a hugely difficult time tuning my expectations with reality.  Coming off wildly successful 50 mile training runs the gravitation of success continually pulled me towards a time goal ranging from 24-27 hours with 27 being a worst-case scenario. To ground myself, I settled on this game plan: The first 50 is a training run, the second 50 I can race.  Sporting my new hair-do (which caused quite the commotion) I set forth on a journey into the 100 mile club my pace charts set, my crew instruction written, and my pacer eagerly awaiting my arrival at Kachess Lake (68).

Summiting Goat Rock

Race Time:  Start to Stampede Pass (Miles 0 – 33)

The start was at 10:00 AM on Saturday, this allow for a fabulous breakfast buffet at the start/finish firestation.  I was absolutely addicted to the hand-picked huckleberry pancakes; they were all I could eat (I downed 4-5 of them before the race).  Following the American and Canadian national anthems we were set loose into the wilds of Easton to tackle our first climb up to Goat Rock.

The pre-race nervous chatter settled into roving conversations of, “hey I was at that race” or do you know such and such.  There were a lots of people from the CA Bay Area representing:  Sean Lang, Adam Blum, Mark Tanaka, Chihping Fu, Wendell Doman … and those are just the ones I know.  Needless to say there were many familiar runners and crew peppered throughout the race.

Goat Peak came and went without issue.  I felt I was holding a good pace and was placed about mid-pack.  In retrospect we gained altitude quickly and I didn’t properly monitor my heart rate and adjust my pace accordingly (letting it inch up to 170 at times).

Storming into Tacoma Pass

My memory fails me on the sections leading up to Tacoma Pass (mile 23).  But arriving I was looking forward to seeing my crew for the first time.  As I ran in, I was welcomed to a Happy Birthday!  It was fabulous.  And I was treated to a heaping slice of German Chocolate cake – my favorite.  I took a huge bite then comically began choking on the coconut shavings.  After a pristine taping of my left foot I was off.

The paramount memory in traversing from Tacoma Pass to Stampede Pass was running the PCT (what a wonderful trail).  The clouds were lapping the ridge tops like waves and spritzing a cool mist on the shrubs lining the trails.  Peering down at those mist covered shrubs I pondered a conversation I had with the ranger a few days prior about it being prime huckleberry season.  These bushes fit her description to a “T” waist high manzanita-like shrubs with purple berries that highly resemble blueberries.  While running I cautiously grabbed a handful and chewed.  Wow!  Nature’s fruit,  chilled to perfection and misted to further enhance it’s juiciness.   I couldn’t get enough – and it helped pass the time:  I’d spot a big juicy one, run to it, do a quick grab, then enjoy).  It invoked a sense of independence from the race a feeling of “nativeness”.   That is what life is about – those simple moments of perfection.

Adam Blum in the Mist of the PCT

Stampede Pass in my mind morphs with Tacoma Pass.  I remember my wonderful crew taping my other foot and swapping my GPS watch and checking that I had a headlamp (it’s required here to leave with one).  The feedback I was getting was your not eating enough – my GU fueling was well into collapse.  I was sick of the flavor, it viscosity, everything about it and I was only at mile 33.  My appetite was still good however.  Off I went back onto the PCT to enjoy the race ahead.

Stay tuned for the skirted gentleman blessed with superpowers of self intestinal extraction and the ability to induce nausea to all that come near!

Not to mention my FINISH !

As most of ya know I completed the CCC100 in 28:46:37 as my first 100 miler.  I had the most treasured experience and will share the details with all shortly.  My race reports is in the works – I promise.  In writing it, there’s just so much to capture I’m caught of guard.  But I’ll publish it shortly – and it makes so much sense to do a 2 part release (wooohooo that means I’m that much closer to my first post).

In the mean-time if you haven’t seen them my pictures are located here on Flickr.  I’m continually adding to them as more sources filter through.  And, I have a few special ones that I’ll include in the upcoming post that aren’t in the Flickr set.

In case you’re wondering at 4 days removed from the race I’m moving around very well.  I could probably run if someone stole my wallet.  I do have 2 “injuries” I’m tracking.  1) My right calf is has some torn muscle tissue which is very sore and  2) I have nerve damage in both feet.   The two middle toes on either foot have lost 80% of sensation.  While running the final 20 miles I thought my feet were hamburger.  As it turned out they were fine.

Franz.

I was posed the following semi-rhetorical question by a fellow co-worker. My response captivated me and I re-read it probably 4 times — it’s a wonderful summary of what accomplishing this really means to me.

Here’s the question:
“I’m still boggled that this is how you would choose to celebrate your birthday on Saturday?!?! Kind of a “strange” way to ring in a new year, don’t you think? ;-}”

To which I responded:
“At face value it may seem strange. I totally agree! Let’s try this perspective: Place yourself at the finish line. Although there’s plenty of pain, you’re filled with happiness in it’s most primordial state. Everything else in life is a subtle blur in your peripheral vision. You’ve accomplished the unthinkable; a goal that most say can never be achieved. There you stand in complete awe of yourself. It’s not about running – it’s about realizing we’re all capable of something great and it’s only our self imposed boundaries that make us think otherwise. How could you not wish to celebrate THAT on your birthday?”

I’m at work now, self admittedly not doing much work at all. All things pressing have been accounted for yet there are longer term projects that I could start but don’t. I’m immensely preoccupied with race preparations for my first attempt at completing a 100 mile course, all the planning, and emailing all the supportive friends and family the kindness that’s just oozing from my pores at this very moment. I’m usually very contained emotionally yet I’ve drifted off into my “race only” state of being giddy. I’m just outwardly happy now and, although uncharacteristic, it’s GREAT.

I haven’t posted about the 3 wonderful races that lead up to me feeling prepared for my 100 mile, 24+ hour excursion into the Cascade Mountain wilderness. Before I continue on I should.

First there was the Tahoe Rim Trail 50 miler: A test of elevation, mountainous terrain, and dryness. My time goal entering the race was to complete the race in under 12 hours. I exceeded it by finishing in 10:35:10 good for 15th place and astronomically more important I felt good – a race in which I recovered well from losing my legs from miles 30-35 coupled with a bought of dehydration.

Secondly and a mere TWO weeks following TRT50, I completed the 12 Hours at Cool Night Run: Ultimately this race was yet another long training run at NIGHT with a background goal of beating my time last year of 5 laps (45 miles) in 10:26:34. I ran very well that night, unknowingly in 2nd place in the early morning hours. Rather than run through the entire night I stopped at 5 laps (again 45 miles) in 8:30 !!! It was amazing, while still holding back under the barrier of “it’s a training run” I STILL beat the last year Franz by almost 2 hours!

Thirdly and a mere ONE week following Cool at Night, I completed the Headlands 50 Mile Race: Again my goal was to beat the Franz of last year’s time of 10:37:39, which I might add was on an easier course with at least 1,000 ft less elevation ascent/descent. I did that, oh yes, I did. That day I finished in 9:22:58 not only destroying my time last year but setting a personal record for the 50 mile distance! Previously it was my last year’s Dick Collins race of 9:57:26 that’s held on a vastly less difficult course.

What’s profound about these 3 races is that they were very close in proximity (3 50 mile runs in the span of 3 weeks) and they were all training runs. Although I did run hard, I left something out there on the trail – a mental “GO” that remained unharvested. During the challenges I faced on those trails, I purposely made the conservative choice for the sake of running another day. As the story “should” go, you’d now expect me to say I WILL NOT leave anything on the trail come August 29th – 30th while racing my first 100 mile attempt at the Cascade Crest 100. Through all avenues of mentors, observation, training, and most importantly the races above I’ve been enlightened that by convincing myself it’s just a “training run” I’m able to effectively counter-balance all the race adrenaline searing through my body screaming go, go, go. The net result is I don’t go out too fast and have plenty of energy to conquer the second half of the course.

So forward I go into Easton, WA to run my 100 mile “training run” through the gorgeous Cascade Mountains that offers as a gift to me my next step into ultrarunning, a brief glimpse into my soul at mile 80 or so.

Quick Race Stats for Angel Island 2009:

• Distance: 50km, 31.1 Miles
• Time: 04:39:43
• Average Pace: 08:54 min/mile
• Elevation Gain/Loss: ~ 4,070 / 4,070 ft
• Average Heart Rate: ~165 bmp

Tiburon, what a wonderful place to spend a Saturday.   And so it goes, Jen and I had grand plans to each run a race on Angel Island then enjoy Punta del Tiburon and finally to retire at the Lodge at Tiburon.  All of this, a delayed birthday present to Jen for her 30th birthday!

In the morning we made the drive from Hayward and amidst the myriad of lines for the bathroom, runner check-in, and ferry tickets we managed to board the first ferry without issue.  The hull of the ferry held a great surprise, Eric and Denise Vaughan – our wonderful friends from the Coastside Running Club together with their son and his expecting wife.  Eric and I exchanged a few thoughts about the upcoming Tahoe Rim Trail while we hydrated and made pre-race preparations.  Denise leaned in with a muted voice and said, “You know Franz, Eric told me this is a small 50km field you could do very well.”  That thought would stick with me, but my immediate reaction was to retort with,  “There are a lot of fast runners here.  I’ll do my best.”  She responded with, “Franz, but you’re fast.”

With the boat docked we scurried out to attend to pre-race needs, then Wendell announced the 5 minute count down.  I briefly spotted Hoa, my to-be ultra guide for the Cascade Crest 1oo in August, but with 1 minute to go I couldn’t say “hi”.  Then with mere seconds counting down I thought, “What’s my game plan?  I have no idea!”  I think I want to run fast, yes fast.  I inched up to the front and the race was a go.  From there it was an organic evolution of: Follow Ray.

Ray Sanchez is a bad ass in my book.  He runs everything, has completed Badwater, and most importantly he’s run this course before in a 4:30.  So I  ran with him relying on his experience.  My focus was on Ray but within 1.5 miles my attention swayed to a familiar form in the distance – Eric.  As I approached I offered a way to go.  He offered a simple go get ‘em and forward I ran.

The race runs in loops: Perimeter, Middle Road, then to the Peak of the Island… and repeat.  During the 2nd loop Ray paused to tie his shoe, a stop he wasn’t happy with.  That’s when I passed him.  Initially I had a rush of adrenaline but, as 5 minutes passed, I lost my pace.  I no longer had Ray to set a brisk pressing cadence and I’m not use to being out in front.  I eventually found my stride and lost myself in an imaginary race with a passing freighter heading out to the Golden Gate bridge.  The views were beautiful.

I had no concept of what place I was in, I just ran and ran fast.  Loop after loop the trails became less crowded after the shorter distance runners completed their runs.  Then finally I made it to my last lap.  While my wonderful wife Jen refueled me with a Nuun loaded waterbottle Sarah asked, “How is it out there”.  To which I replied “Great, but I’m ready to be done!” while jumping up and down.  Then I took off.  I caught and passed Frederico Sanchez about 2 miles into the loop and kept motoring to the peak licking my chops at the final downhill of the day.  With all systems “go” I let loose for the finish finally merging onto the paved final stretch.  Over 4 hours of blistering hard work was drawing to a final sprint – and I LOVE the final sprint.  After a sharp right I fired it up only the be broadsided by a 5 year old on her bike that sandwiched me into an agave plant!  Yikes!  The girl was okay, although there’s video evidence that she did fall off her bike because of our fleeting collision.  I continued on to cross the finish line in 4:39:33.

Jen did wonderful in her first trail race, the 8km. For the first time I shared the trail with her as the 50km racers merged with the 8kmers and it was nice to see her smiling face out on the trails. It was immediately evident she was having fun. But her fun was mixed with her fundamental competitive drive as I later learned she started running the hills and passing people while signing (to herself) “On and on and On to the next One”. I have no idea who sings it, but in its day the song was all over terrestrial airways. In the end she exceeded her goal of a sub 1 hour and pulled an amazing 8km in 58:28, good for 41st place out of 122 finishers! Great job sweetheart.

Quick Race Stats for Miwok 100k 2009:

• Distance: 100km, 62.4 Miles
• Time: 12:01:34
• Average Pace: 11:34 min/mile
• Elevation Gain/Loss: ~ 10,000 / 10,000 ft
• Average Heart Rate: ~145 bmp

Quick Race Links:

• All my race photos in my Miwok set
• Here’s Ron Little’s photos
• Here’s a Miwok 2009 Race video from Journeyfilm

I spent most of the week before Miwok huddled over the weather reports, initially thinking we’d be hit with another unusual heat wave. That wasn’t the case as race day drew near. In fact, rain was forecast amongst unsettled weather that cumulatively no single weatherman nor weather website could decide what was going to happen – that resulted in a bunch of runner’s that didn’t know what to expect either.

As for me, I was stressed and more nervous that before any other race (with the exception of my pre-teen track days). I was obsessive over what to do, overplanning everything; even emailing 2 good ultra running friends asking, “How do I run 11-13 hours in the rain?” I eventually settled down after finalizing my race plan and packing. For pacing/splits I pulled information from run100s.com’s splits for 3 finish times: 11, 12, and 13 hour finishes (i.e. best, good, and acceptable scenarios).

Race morning was an intertwined weave of plans that eventually lead to myself and Mike Weston at the starting line with plenty of time to spare and my wife and sister at the Bolinas Ridge aid station volunteering for the day along with the Coastside Running Club. The day was overcast but oddly warm (say mid 50’s) with no wind – believe me this is strange weather for a Marin beach at 5:00AM in the morning!

So there I was amongst 322 other runners in my brand new Brooks GTSs (yup, I freaked out and bought brand new trail shoes 2 days before the race), my goofy widebrimmed hat, and a red windbreaker. With a “line” drawn in the sand by the waving of Tia’s (the Race Directors) flashlight we lined up in the beach sand and were off on the word “Go”!

After passing the infamous bottleneck we all got moving and the jackets, gloves, hats, etc. quickly came off.  It was warm, very warm.  My pace was generally on target – I kept my heart rate under 160 as a hard barrier to NOT go out too fast allowing me to run / walk the hills.  My calorie intake was out of control.  I had calculated that 2 tubes of Cliff Bloks and 6 servings of GU would be more than sufficient to Pantoll.  This time a had a ravenous hunger and ate all my Cliff Bloks and at least 1/2 my GU by the Muir Beach aid station (5.7 mile to go before Pantoll).  Yup, I gave into the hunger grabbed GU from the aid station and was off – while overhearing the leaders had just reached Pantoll.

About 1/2 way to Pantoll the weather picked up.  It was slight at first then the wind began gusting and the rain kicked it up a few notches.  As I passed another runner I remember commenting, “It’s getting a bit cold” as I put my windbreaker back on.

I reached Pantoll uneventfully and scurried to my dropbag guided by a wonderful volunteer escort.  I swapped out my handheld for my Nathan pack that was pre-loaded with food and water then grabbed an extra tube of Clif Bloks.  The rain persisted and the trails ahead were to be the worst yet: exposed to the ocean, no tree cover, narrow, and lots of mud.  My energy here felt great with an additional drive to reach the Coastside Running Club sponsored Bolinas Ridge aid station.  I knew most everyone there and was teary-eyed at the thought of running in and saying “HI!”.  My wife Jen was there, my sister, my great friend Nathan… and other friends George Miller, Denise Vaughan, and Ron Little.

The Bolinas Ridge Kiss

Running into the aid station were some wonderfully motivating signs pulled together by Eric Vaughan, another spectacular and accomplished runner that was also running today.  Finally I pulled in and the aid station was quite chaotic.  I was expecting to recognize people right away, yet it was a sea of  striking unfamiliar faces.  I pressed through the crowds a bit, saw Michelle from CRC, then my sister Sona, and finally my wife Jen!  She asked if I needed anything – then gave me a BIG kiss and hug and pushed my ass right out of there – literally.

I chugged along, hitting a spell of low energy.  The Cliff Bloks were no longer appetizing and it really started to RAIN.  Then there was the fog that you could see just pouring over the trail.  The fire road ahead had, not puddles, but PONDs.  Wet feet were unavoidable; just give it up!  I thought of George Miller and just ran through the middle of most of them – fun!  I started to see the front runners which bumped up the adrenaline levels.  But oddly I passed some familiar, normally front runner faces.  Laid before me were the first signs of the 62 dropouts that would ensue – most due to hypothermia.

I hit the Randall turnaround seeking out protein, which was satisfied with 1/2 PB&J sandwich and a chunk of Payday.  I chewed on them as I hit the biggest climb of the day.  Slowly my energy built back over the course of 1/2 hour.  Arriving at Bolinas Ridge I said hello to all, mentioned, “it’s cold out there” while eating more PB&J and sipping Mountain Dew.  Jen was elated to see me, soothing her worries.  At this point about 40 people had dropped as the weather continued to deteriorate.

To my huge surprise I saw Eric there.  Wow, I had caught up to one of my club mentors whom I hold in the highest regards.  I’ve been in 3 prior races with him; all of which I was no where close to him.  It seemed dreamlike.  We both left the aid station within 1 minute of each other off into the WORST part of the trail – fully exposed to everything Mother Nature was throwing at us that day.  We talked a little then broke the sheltering forest canopy to endure the elements.  Eric paused on the trail reaching for some electrolytes and offered me the lead.  I pressed forward, seemingly in slow motion.  This wasn’t just passing another runner – this was passing someone I held in the highest regard in all aspects of ultrarunning – mentally tough, physically strong, kind, and a fierce competitor when the clock is rolling.  Passing Eric was akin to coming of age in the ultra tribe.  It was HUGE.

The weather hit hard on the return from Bolinas Ridge to Pantoll.  The wind blew with bursts that diverted your steps to the grassy side brush lining the mud trough of a trail, the rain pelted you horizontally, and the fog obscured sight beyond 10 yards.  My mantra was a line from the Faith No More song Evidence, “Just put your head down and go!”  And go! I went, running up-and-down trails turned streams in-and-out of dense fog while thinking:  “so, this is what’s it’s like on Everest!”

I eventually made it to the 2nd or 3rd large tree alcove along the trail when my eye caught a florescent yellow jacket.  Immediately I could tell things weren’t right.  The runner dressed in yellow was standing on the trail, not moving, with head down… just shivering.  I ran up and touched his shoulder, “are you okay?”  Lifting and shaking his head he replied, “no”.  “Does someone know you’re here?”  He replied, “yes”.  Knowing he was becoming hypothermic I told him, “You’ve got to move around, you can’t stand still.”  To that he pointed to his right quad and muttered it was hurt.  I could tell what I was saying wasn’t registering, like when attempting a conversation with someone who’s talking in their sleep; it just doesn’t flow like it should.  With that I told him I’d make sure help is on the way and tore off with his mileage location, name, and number locked in my head.

Fortunately 0.5 miles ahead I crossed the “rescue” runner coming to help.  I briefed him on the runner’s condition and locations and was back on my way.  To number 353, I hope you’re okay.

Fueling at Mile 49

At Pantoll (mile 49.5) I was greeted by Jen who was now crewing for me.  She was elated to see that the hypothermic runner that the aid station was rescuing was neither me nor Eric.  I had some Ensure and reloaded on supplies then was off.  Between the excitement of the weather and ailing runners I completely forgot to track my pace against my expectations.  If I had, at this point I would have seen I was 5 minutes ahead of an 11:47 finishing time.

On I ran through the Highway One aid station and then, again, to Tennesse Valley.  I saw Jen again and it was great.  Running in I was low on energy and struggling some.  I stayed at the aid station a little longer than most but it was well worth the energy infused into my system via a wonderful cup of warm soup.  This hit the spot so well it was amazing!  As I left Jen gave me a wonderful message from Eli, “Daddy don’t worry I’m taking care of everyone – just run.”  With that cuteness swirling through my mind I walked from the aid station towards the finish suddenly jolted by Jen yelling, “Hey this is a race, get moving!”  I jokingly yelled back, “Alright smart-ass”.  And I began to run.

At the crest of the climb I caught Jean Pommier.  He too was looking rather grim but pressing forward with amazing mental perseverance.  I asked if he was okay and he responded “No”.  But continued with “Go, go get 12 hours” in a thick French accent.  Something buzzed in me after that.  I looked forward on the trail ahead and spotted 2 runners, marked them and pressed forward with a fury; I had exactly 30 minutes before 12 hours tolled.  The first I caught at the cut-off onto the Wolf trail.  We reached the abruptly steep cliff-like climb together.  I just looked ahead and yelled, “Woooohhhoooooo” and charged the ascent.  Soon I passed another runner on the climb.  Then just before the transition from trail to paved footpath I passed another.  With about a mile to go I had 6-7 minutes left – almost impossible.

Post Race Talks with Eric

You could hear the finish line at this point, although obsured by the fog – cheers were projecting out of a misty cloud below.  I sprinted down the rock stairs almost sliding on my ass as I bear hugged the metal hand rail.  Again, more road but I could now see the finish… and, it was surprisingly far away.  I broke through a right hand trail turn and the finish line errupted in “Go, Runner”.  Then I could hear Jen yelling “Go, Go, Go”.  With a strong finish I crossed in 12:01:34 – an amazing race far exceeding my abilities of past.  I was estatic and didn’t feel like I had just run 62.4 miles.  Purely wonderful!  And as Eric so perfectly put it, “the race of my lifetime”.

This such a long overdue post, it’s ridiculous. But Jen has reminded me, for good or bad, you should post a little something to ‘document’ the run. And here goes:

On Feb. 28th I ran the Sequioa 50km put on wonderfully by PCTR. Early week forecasts called for rain to hit that Saturday and I was less than thrilled. I was sick and had been sick for 2 weeks and my final desire was to run 6 hours in the rain to be stricken days later with pneumonia. Race day approached with the rain holding off until Sunday – but it was still cold.

My attempt at a conservative goal was simply beat last year’s time of 5:57:21. My thought was, it’s a good time but I really blew-up on that run during the last 20k. And, coming off my very successful Pacifica and Arizona runs I can do this. Whelp the reality of 32 miles is, well, a reality. The truth was I had no idea what kind of shape I was in nor how my illness would effect me.

I started slow, pushed some at an attempt to keep up with fellow CRC member Eric Vaughan but just couldn’t do it. Then my 8 serving GU bottle fell out of my hydration pack pocket – that was a hit on my fueling strategy! This is beginning to sound like a string of excuses… it’s not. I ran sick and shouldn’t be surprised with my result. I came out of the day with a 6:07:51. A decent time, I suppose.

The following week, I was struck with a horrible flu. And life sucked momentarily.

Some days you’re off and other days line-up much better.

Quick Race Stats for  Sedona Marathon 2008:

• Distance:  Marathon 26.2 Miles
• Time:  3:39:36  (23rd overall, 5th in division)
• Average Pace:  8:23 min/mile
• Elevation Gain/Loss:  1,860 ft
• Average Elevation:  4,480 ft
• Heart Rate:  Don’t Know

The Most Beautiful Finish Line Potties Around!

Of the multitude of choices in signing up for a first time marathon, I chose the 4th annual Sedona Marathon in Arizona. Why? The real answer is, because my wife Jen saw a one page ad in Trailrunner magazine and it looked gorgeous.

I was also lured in by the fact that it’s a 1/2 road and 1/2 jeep trail hybrid marathon and not an easy one at that. I signed up, we packed up the Audi, and off we drove to Sedona, AZ 12-13 hours one-way.

On marathon morning Jen and the boys dropped me off at the highschool across highway 89A from the start line. As they passed in the car, Eli was yelling “Go, daddy go!!!” and the entire street likely heard him. It was the cutest thing ever – I love that kid! 8:00 AM approached and the gun went off for the full marathon. A pack of runners lurched in front with myself huddled in the mid-packers. Everything was a variable to me: fast pace, arid air, 4,400′ elevation, and a competitive atmosphere. I was excited yet very nervous – I locked in my cruising at about 7 min/mile through the starting downhills.

At the 3-4 mile mark I struck up a conversation with Brian Tindor. He’s a runner from Flagstaff but a transplant from Auburn, CA running his 27th marathon. While we were talking, the front runners of the 1/2 marathon (started 5 minutes after us) caught us. Brian turned around, made some fraternity like grunt, sprinted forward, and donned his derriere. I figure he’s done this a few times before; his balance and compensation of stride were perfect. I wish I had some sunglasses (if ya know what I mean). Fortunately, Brian pulled up his drawers.

The obvious question was, “do you know those guys?” as they passed us. He proceeded to give me the scoop on each of them. One was a 1 hour 5 minute 1/2 marathon Olympic time-trail athlete as were all the others – all training partners in Flagstaff. Each had the Olympic tattoo. These guys could run, more like float on road. Then another older gentleman passed. Brian told me that’s Phil Wharton. He told me to Google his name and I’ll discover he’s one of the leading authors of books on stretching for athletes. Needless to say, Mr. Wharton came in 5th 1:18:51 for the 1/2 marathon… which is damn fast.

I eventually was left behind by Brian during an aid station water grab and took the opportunity to pull my pace back a bit. I was feeling awesome at the 1/2 point but did feel the effects of my higher than normal pace. The turn around and up the 500′+ hill sapped me with my right hamstring taking the opportunity to tighten up at my hip. My jovial meter sunk lower as I inched closer to the finish. I hit pavement and pulled out my phone, put it on speaker, and called Jen. She was happy to hear from me as I told her I was at the 20 mile mark. I ran and talked it was really nice having her there with me – it felt like cheating because she really picked me up.

There was paved hill after hill drawing the last miles on forever. Many of the marathoners ahead of me fizzled and were reduced to walking while I drew from my ultrarunning and held a strong, consistent pace sucking down all the GU I had left. The last 2.5 miles of this race just plan sucks – you’re running through town where EVERYONE can see you and it’s UPHILL the entire way sometimes on sidewalks. I LOVE a finishing kick but this course really tested my end-of-race energy levels.

With 3.5 miles left I catch this guy walking an uphill. Him and his brother pick it up, tearing off .1 of a mile ahead. But my pace remained consistent and he slowly dropped back. Over the course of the 2 mile uphill I gained on him. Then we took the last right turn into the finish (shown here). I gave it everything I had wondering if I had ‘kicked’ too early. This kid didn’t want to run and I knew it, but he had just enough in him to stave off my attack. After the finish he was hunched over a steel police barricade. I walked up and said “good race man!” Without raising his head, he held out his hand and muttered, “nice kick”. That right there is what life is all about – those moments of complete purity and simplicity. This is why I love to race.

I heard Jen and Eli cheering me like crazy and it was GREAT.  There was big family hugs all around!

My final time (and PR) was 3:39:16 good for 23rd out of 199 finishers and 5th in my age group.

Here’s the Flickr photoset of all our pictures!  Beautiful place!