Two Years Ago

Two years ago, I couldn't do it. It hurt too much, I couldn't eat, too many hills. But I did reach and exceed one goal at that time, of raising almost $12,000 for Diabetes research, thanks to many of you. But I never did finish that 100 miler. Two years ago, I promised if I didn't finish, I'd train until I did. I'm happy to say that this year, I finished ultrarunning's most prestigious event, the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run, in 28 and a half hours. And you know what? It feels GOOD. Be you bored or be you inspired, read on to hear the details.

Pre-Race Training

As the saying goes, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step - take that first step, take another, and soon you're doing 50 mile training runs. My training was a little unorthodox - I substituted weekday runs for full body training programs like P90X and Insanity (both amazing programs, by the way). On hindsight, my weekly running mileage wasn't quite as high as it should have been (avg 30/week, instead of 60+), and that likely contributed to some injuries I have now. One unique condition about the WS100 is the heat - temperatures can easily top triple digits in the shade. To prepare for this, I spent many hours sitting in a 170 degree sauna until I was dizzy and couldn't think straight. I must admit this was the least fun (and maybe most dangerous!) part of the training - but since the gym was right next to Dairy Queen, I took full advantage of the purported cooling effects of soft-serve banana splits...

The Western States 100

The Western States is an amazing race, plain and simple. All ultrarunners know the race, and at some point inevitably want to run it. With 18,000 feet of climbing up and 23,000 feet of descending down, it's certainly not the easiest 100 miler. The first organized and most prestigious 100 miler, the WS100 follows the original route of gold and silver miners from Nevada to California - basically from Squaw Valley ski resort down to Auburn (right outside Sacramento). While that's a net downhill run, it's harder than it sounds. Running downhill continuously for over an hour at a time tends to really tear up the quadricep muscles, and is in fact the second most likely reason for runners to drop out (heat and water related issues being the first). Each year about 40% of the runners don't finish. If you consider that every runner is in phenomenal shape going into the race, you can picture how tough this run really is.

From the first 4 miles of climbing up 2800 feet, to the blazing hot canyons littered with runners puking on their knees, the terrain doesn't let up much in the first 62 miles. There's running (and falling!) through miles of snow, there's sloshing through icy snow-melt streams (so everyone's feet look like warped raisins), and in between, plenty of beautiful mountain scenery. At mile 62, there's a major aid station at a small town called Foresthill. Before Foresthill, you have sunlight, hard climbs, and lots of heat; after Foresthill, it's night running, easier terrain, and plain exhaustion. The night run is broken up by a famous river crossing, where runners wade through a waist high river while holding a rope. This year unfortunately, the river level was too high so they ferried us over by raft. The rest of the way in is relatively easier, and ends with a lap around a high school track to the finish among a cheering crowd, just like the Olympics! But a tiny bit smaller.

The Low Moments

While I honestly had a great time in the race, it wasn't without its moments. I had such bad chafing that I probably went through about a jar of vaseline. I had blisters that were taped at mile 62 that turned ugly (be thankful I don't show the picture, but imagine a stack of 4 quarters under the big toenail - yuck!). At about mile 72, I fractured a bone in my right foot - which admittedly sounds quite bad-ass, but nothing a little Tylenol can't temporarily fix. At mile 90, my calf seized up so tightly I could barely put any weight on it for 20 minutes. The 24 hours after the race seemed even worse - flu-like symptoms like shivers and sweats, unable to stand or shower (gross, I know), so very tired but in too much pain to sleep (even with ibuprofen). But through it all, I wouldn't change a thing. The difficulty of the challenge and the adversity of the experience is what makes you grow. While it's true that it only takes one step to get closer to a goal of 100 miles, it's the longest and highest strides that make the goal worthwhile in the end.

Epilogue

Two years ago, I started a journey - this June, I finished it. Not everyone wants to run 100 miles of course. Some will write a novel. Others will run a successful business. Still others might climb Mt Everest. We're all different but we each have something inside, something challenging that we want to accomplish someday. A wise man (actually, a 21-yr old) once told me that life is a Game, and knowing you're playing it is the first step to winning. The difference between playing to win and being played by life is subtle in our daily lives, but dramatic when you look back many years later. So I encourage you to play the Game, and don't let it play you. Life is short - figure out what matters to you, and go for it. You won't regret it.

Thanks

Finally, it's important to remember that tough goals aren't often achieved on your own. Many thanks to Cody, my pacer, who skillfully paced me through the night while laughing at my blisters. To my buddy, Al, who pushed me the last 6 miles with Army Ranger stories, and literally carried me on his back to his car when I could barely stand afterwards. To my Mom, who flew out from Iowa to help watch the kids while I was basically incapacitated (or maybe faking it so she'll watch the kids longer!). And of course to my beautiful wife Lisa, who supported me throughout all the training runs and nights away at races, watched our three young kids when I couldn't, and was just plain the perfect wife. To all of you, thanks, I couldn't have done it without you! 		Top of the first climb


Resting at an aid station


Mile 62, Beck is more tired than me


Crossing the No Hands bridge


Running the last 100 yards with Maile and Beck


Lynn family after the race (without Mathis)


Feeling the pain after the race


The famous belt buckle, awarded to finishers