As usual, life was hectic leading up to the race. I was
finishing my last rotation of medical school, and we were getting ready to move
across the country to transition onto active duty as a PGY-1. Three of our
children were finishing the soccer season, and I was coaching my youngest son’s
team. It seems like nothing is ever convenient, so despite the busy schedule
and big changes ahead, I stuck to my goal of training to run in San Diego. I was motivated by the fact that the race was
in my hometown, I had DNF’ed last year due to lack of training (and thus wanted/needed
redemption), and figured with residency about to begin, this may be the last
race I would be able to run for a while.
My goal leading up to the race was to get six solid weeks of
training in (3- 2 week blocks, with 1 week rest in between each). I had done very little running since a DNF at
Sean O’Brien in February, so I spent the first two weeks (the last two weeks of
April) ramping my mileage back up. I managed to get 80 miles in on the second
week and was feeling good. After a recovery week, I was able to put in 83 miles
and 100 miles in the next block (which was pretty tough considering I had to
start my runs at 4 am on most days). After another recovery week, I put in over
100 miles the first week of the last block, but that would prove to be the end
of training/beginning of taper. We decided somewhat last minute to move
ourselves instead of having the military do it for us, so that last week of
training turned into a week of packing and prepping for the move! 
After a stressful week of packing and loading (all of which
couldn’t have been done without all the help from our ward friends at church),
my friend Shawn and I took off in a 26’ ft Penske bound for the east coast. We
left Friday morning and arrived on Monday in the middle of a tropical rain
storm. We wasted no time, and with the help of friends from our new ward in
Virginia, we unloaded the truck in the rain before heading to a hotel in
Norfolk so we could catch an early flight back to Vegas the next morning.
June 1st was a crazy day. We dropped the kids off
for their final day of school, went back to the house to get our final things
out and do our final walk through before picking the kids up at noon! We
scrambled until the last minute getting all our things out of the house/shoved
into the U-Haul trailer we would be towing across the country. After picking up
the kiddos, we hit the road and made it to San Diego later that night (not
before keeping a promise to my kids though to stop at Donut Corner in Escondido
for some of the world’s best!). The next morning I went for a run up Cowles
Mountain to shake things out and see how I was feeling. I made sure to mix in
some climbing, some downhill, and a couple fartleks just to stimulate all the
different muscle fibers and memory that had been rather dormant over the past
week and a half.
Luckily my in-laws live less than an hour from the start
line in Lemon Grove, so I was able to get a decent night sleep in before waking
up at 3:45 am. After warming up a quick bowl of oatmeal, my wife and I jumped
in the mini-van (sans U-Haul) and headed up to Cuyamaca. I dawned some sun
block, kissed my wife for good luck, and waited at the start. After some wise
words from RD Scott Mills, we were off!
Start to Paso Picacho
(0-7.5)
Due to the lost final week of training, I was a bit
uncertain of how things would go on race day. Nevertheless, I knew I had banked
some solid training, and with this being my 4th 100 miler, I had
some experience under my belt to rely on. I knew I had to be extra conservative
in the beginning of the race for a couple of reasons: 1. I had gone out to too aggressively
at SOB in February, blew up and had to DNF. 2. As mentioned, I lost my final
week of training due to the move. I knew
if I went out strong and started feeling fatigued early on, the mental aspect
would have gotten to me. I could almost hear myself at mile 30 saying ‘you are
tired because you missed that last week of training, you went out too hard
again and now you are screwed!’. I knew I had to avoid this exact scenario, so
I didn’t worry much when people started passing me up the initial climb. I was
content keeping an eye on my heart rate and being happy with the fact that I
was actually running the San Diego 100!
Paso Picacho to Chambers (7.5-12.5)
I had two amphipod 20 oz bottles tucked in the back of my
shorts, one with cold water, and the other with Vitargo. I didn’t drink much of
either through mile 7.5 to the first aid at Paso Picacho so I only stopped
their briefly for a sip of water, and to dump some cold water on my head. My
mind wandered back to last year’s race and I remembered watching champion and
coach Bob Shebest leave the aid as I had arrived, which served as yet another
reminder to take it easy and not run beyond myself (which is exactly what I did
at last year’s race). I headed up the rock wall with a couple runners up in
front of me but they soon disappeared as I kept an eye on my HR. It was tough
to continually have to check myself, but I was committed to playing it safe
this early on. I had found in my long training runs that keeping my HR around
135 for the majority of the run allowed me to have enough stamina toward the
end to minimize slowing and finish the run strong, so I was shooting to keep
within a couple beats of this number for the first 50 miles.
Chambers to Sunrise
(12.5-21)
Miles 7.5 to 12.5 were rather uneventful (and luckily there
was no course vandalism to throw us off this year just before Chambers). After
filling my bottles at Chambers, one of the volunteers suggested I jump in the
lake for some pro-active cooling. She said she had done the race multiple times
and did this every year. I took a look at the water, thought about it for a
second, but decided it would be too much work so I opted to keep moving. A few
miles down the road, I realized it may not have been a bad idea, however, as
things were warming up quickly. I had already noticed a couple of changes to
the course as opposed to last year, one of them being no aid station between
Chambers and Sunset 1, which would have been nice. I arrived at Sunset 1
feeling good, but warm. I regret the decision to not pick up my third water
bottle at this aid station for extra cooling and hydration. I had set one in my
drop bag for this exact reason, in case the temps were high enough at that
point in the day to warrant it. Hind sights always 20-20, right?
Sunrise 1 to Pioneer
Mail 1 (21-28.2)
I kept moving and over the next segment to Pioneer Mail 1
got passed by several runners. At this point, from past experience running
100’s and running in the heat, I knew most of these runners would come back to
me later on. I just kept plugging away, slow and steady. When I reached Pioneer
1 I was certain to grab my third bottle as it was definitely hot at this point
in the game. I spend a couple minutes eating some fruit at the aid and icing
myself down before heading out. This is where I dropped at last year’s race, so
I was patting myself on the back for officially making it farther this time
around ;)
I may have taken in a bit too much food/fluid at the aid,
cause my belly was now feeling somewhat bloated. I decided to pop some homemade
salt pills and continue to take it easy to avoid any potential GI issues (which
we all know can all but ruin a race). Eventually, things settled down a bit and
I was cruising along. A few miles into this section I was feeling REALLY glad I
picked up that third amphipod bottle for intermittent cooling. It was kind of
annoying having to carry it in my hand the whole time, but still well worth it
in my opinion. I can’t overstate the importance of cooling when it’s hot out.
Having done my training in the Las Vegas desert, I know all too well what the
heat can do to you if you aren’t prepared. Once while training for Tahoe Rim
Trail 2015, I set out on what I had planned to be a 35 mile training run. I
ended up running out of fluid and cooling 3 miles out from the nearest water
source, in the mid-day heat (temps in the triple digits). I barely made it to
the park at mile 26.5, and had to call my wife to come pick me up (2nd
time I ever I have had to do this). The next day, I made sure to learn from my
mistake, took my 2L Nathan hydration pack, along with a 20 oz amphipod
specifically for cooling. I was able to complete the 35 mile course in triple
digit heat with 5,500 ft of climbing at a pace just over 10 min/mi. Like I
said, cooling makes all the difference. Alright, getting back to the race. By
the time I had reached Pine Creek AS, I had passed a few runners (moved up to
23rd place from 29th back at Pioneer Mail 1, aww yeah!).
My prediction some miles back would hold true, as this trend would continue over
the next 35 miles.
Pine Creek to Penny
Pines 1 (36.2-43.8)
At Pine Creek, there were a few guys that were obviously
suffering from the heat, spending a lot of time trying to cool off. I was able
to get in and out of there relatively quickly, and moved up a couple places in
the process. The climb up to Penny Pines was probably the toughest part of the
race, climbing 2,000 ft in 7.6 miles. Not super steep, but steep enough, along
with the heat, to take its toll. I averaged a 15 min/mi pace during this
section. At one point, I decided to wet my hat and shirt in a small stream.
Turns out it was a bad idea. The water must not have been very clean, cause for
the next several miles, the flies were buzz’in all around me, which was quite
annoying. This was never an issue previously, so I figured it must have been
the water. Lesson learned. I arrived at Penny Pines 1 AS in 13th
place. I decided to take off my shirt, drench it the bucket of ice water, and
put it back on. I had never tried this strategy before, but it seemed to work
well, a technique I will use in future races I am sure. I filled my bottles
with some off brand lemon lime soda and headed out. I discovered during Chimera
that the carbonation in soda helps settle my stomach, and the concentration of
sugars seems to be just right, making for a good energy source readily
available at most ultra aid stations.
Penny Pines 1 to
Meadows (43.8-48.8)
I don’t remember many details from this next section, so I
assume it went relatively well (no news is good news, right?). I do remember
feeling good rolling into Meadows AS. I was at the halfway point and the sun
was on its way down, all things that help the psyche in a hot 100 miler. I sat
down at the aid (I think for the first time in the race), and asked one of the
kind volunteers to fill both my bottles with Coke. Another volunteer offered me
an otter pop, which I kindly accepted. This was also the first time in the race
I started to inquire about how far ahead the lead pack was. I was told the
leader was less than an hour ahead, which I assumed was Fabrice Hardel. To my
surprise, the volunteer I was speaking with told me Fabrice had dropped and he
was ‘sitting over there’. I was sorry to hear this. Fabrice was also on the
roster for Chimera back in Nov, but didn’t compete. With my moral on the rise,
I took a final douse of water to the head and kept on moving. I made a mental
note of the leader being less than an hour ahead, so I could keep track of
whether I was gaining any time with each subsequent section.
Meadows to Red Tail
Roost (48.8-55); Red Tail Roost to Dales Kitchen 1 (55-56.3)
Over the next 6.2 miles I made sure to consume both bottles
of Coke, and empty all my cooling bottle over my head. I managed to pass one
runner shortly after departing Meadows, and arrived at Red Tail Roost in 10th
place. Since it was 1.3 miles to the next aid, I asked only for some Coke in
one of my bottles. No Coke there, but the AS captain was gracious enough to
lend me a can of Pepsi, which I found to be just as satisfying. The captain
walked with me down to the road to make sure I crossed the highway safely. His
words were motivational as we walked, and I so I took off toward Dales Kitchen feeling
strong.
Dales Kitchen to
Cibbet’s Flat (64-71.7)
At Dale’s kitchen, I took in some solid calories, and made
an influential, but not tragic, mistake. I thought it was cool enough by now to
not need my cooling bottle anymore, and decided to leave it at Dales. After
filling up and heading down the mountain toward Cibbets Flat, I realized it was
still warm enough to warrant constant cooling, and instant regretted my
erroneous decision. I tried to compensate by running shirtless for this
stretch, but it didn’t help much. About two thirds into this segment, I had
quite the scare when I almost stepped on a RATTLE SNAKE curled up right on the
trail! Luckily I saw it in time and the adrenaline and reflexes kicked in
quickly enough to send me jump’in and a hopp’in over that snake. As soon as I
was on the other side of him, I turned around and began chucking rocks in his
direction to scare him off trail. It took a few rocks, each one getting larger
with each successive throw, but I finally got that rattler off trail, with the
hopes of ensuring the safety of those who would follow. Not too long after the
scare, I caught a runner. I asked if he ‘saw the rattler back there’ and he
confirmed he had. Part of me wondered to myself, ‘well then why did you keep
running, why didn’t you try to get it off the trail’? No point in worrying
about it, I gave him some encouraging words and passed on by. I realized the
lead pack would be heading back up the mountain any moment, so I made a mental
note to check my watch when the leader passed me coming uphill. This way, I
would know how many miles he had on me, along with the others of the lead pack.
Shortly after making this mental note, Nate Jaqua came cruising toward me,
looking strong and comfortable. About a mile later, more runners from the lead
pack appeared. It was hard to distinguish pacers from runners, so I got a bit
confused as to which place I was actually in. It didn’t really matter though, I
was able to visualize the leader, and he wasn’t too far off, considering we still
had over 30 miles to go, and I was feeling good. I made it down to Cibbets flat
and spent a few minutes recovering from the 7.7 mile downhill run, and resting
up for the 7.7 mile climb ahead. After a rest, refilling with Coke, taking in
some calories, and cooling off, I was ready to roll. I noticed at least one
runner and his pacer still getting situated, so I knew I had picked up another
place.
Looking back at the tracking results in Ultralive.net, it
looks like I left Cibbets flat in 7th place. I headed up the hill
feeling strong and confident. This is the point in the race where running
conservative the first 50 miles begins to pay off. I had been losing seconds
off my min/mile avg. since mile 50, and was confident with the cooling temps
and lack of major climbs (excluding the one I was currently on) over the last
30 miles, that I would run a negative split for the second half of the race. In
reviewing my Strava data, I hit mile 50 in 10 hrs 3 mins. So yes, in hindsight,
that should have been the case.
The Rabbit Hole
I continued moving well uphill, and managed to catch another
runner just as it was getting dark. I was now in 6th place, less
than 2 miles out from Dales kitchen. After another five minutes or so of
running, I found myself on a fire road, which seemed familiar, but at the same
time I could hear voices in the distance, off in a different direction,
signifying that the aid station must be close. The problem was, the fire road
was leading in a direction away from the voices, which caused me to wonder if I
was going the right way. I couldn’t recall any major turn-offs in the trail, so
I was a bit confused at this point. I continued up the fire road another half
mile or so until I became convinced it was the wrong way. I back tracked to
where I could hear voices again, and even see headlights in the distance. I
yelled out to the voices, and got a response. I asked where the aid station
was, they replied that they were on the trail, and I needed to get back up
there. I said I didn’t know how to get back on the trail, but I would walk
toward them. I attempted to walk their direction, but the brush and vegetation
became so thick and tall, that I couldn’t get through. I continued back-tracking
down the fire road, looking for where I may have gone off course. No luck. I
saw more headlamps off in the distance, notably higher in elevation from where
I am at, I again yelled out, stating I was stuck. Again, some runners
instructed me to try and walk up toward them. I attempted again, but the brush
was too thick and tall. I would have tried to just muscle my way through, but
they were at least a hundred yards away, uphill, and it was just too thick. I
had already scraped myself up pretty good in my two attempts. I persisted to
wander around, exploring where I may have gone astray, still no luck. I did see
two beadie eyes in a bush, which belonged to a small coyote that I remember
spotting shortly before realizing I was off course. I searched all over, no
sign of a trail. The fire road I was on gradually phased out into the brush,
which seemed perplexing. After at least an hour of this horsing around, I
decided to stay put on a large rock, and yell out to the next runner in the
distant to let them know I was officially lost/stuck and needed help.
After several minutes, I saw another light so I yelled out.
It was a female runner. I told her I was lost and I needed help getting out.
She said she would go back to the aid station and let them know. At this point,
all I could do was wait. It must have been around 9 O’clock by now. I had run
out of Coke, both bottles empty. Luckily, one of the volunteers back and
Cibbets flat had packed me a small baggie of pretzels to take on the road, It
turns out I would need those. It was starting to get cold out, and since I
wasn’t moving much, I was started to feel it. “How long would I be stuck
here?”, I thought as I munched on some pretzels. I waited, and waited, believing
someone from the aid station would come down and figure out how to get me the heck
out of there. No one came. By now it was around 10 o’clock (I had no way of
knowing for sure, since my Garmin had died back at mile 67). I was beginning to
get worried, upset, and a bit angry all at once. I persisted to yell to the
runners in the distance, asking for help. Another runner responded, and said he
had a cell phone. I yelled to him as loud as I could, “Call Scott Mills, the
race director, tell him I’m lost, I need help, I am getting hypothermic, I have
no nutrition or hydration!” This may all seem a bit dramatic, but after running
seventy miles, you don’t have much left in terms of reserves, so you start to
deteriorate quickly if you aren’t constantly taking in calories, fluids and
maintaining adequate body temperature. My biggest concern at this point was
hypothermia. I only had on a t-shirt, and I had been shivering for quite some
time now. I kept sitting on my rock, wondering if anyone would ever come. Your
mind starts to wander when you’re stuck in the wilderness. I decided to make
yet another attempt to find get myself out of this jam. I ran back up the fire
road, but this time I was simply looking for an alternate route, a road maybe,
anything. I ran further up the road then before, but it seemed hopeless. I went
back to my rock. The one advantage of this last venture is it warmed me up a
little, kept me moving. Finally, after approximately 3 hrs. of being stranded,
I saw a light walking toward me. It was the aid station captain from Dales
Kitchen. I was really glad to see him, to say the least. To be honest, I really
hadn’t been thinking much about the race the past three hours, I was mainly
concerned with how get back to safety. The aid station captain led me to the
trail that I must have veered off on to begin with. The trail was literally a couple
hundred yards or so from the rock I had perched myself on, but there was no way
to know this. The trail was overgrown with brush; I still have no idea how I
didn’t realize this when I first got off course. Low and behold, as we made our
way through the pseudo-trail heading to the course, another headlight was
coming towards us. It was another racer, who had obviously made the same
erroneous turn I had. We let him know he was headed in the wrong direction and
told him to follow us back to the main trail. As I later reflected on my whole
experience of being lost, the one consolation I have is that I was able to save
another poor soul from making the same mistake, and possibly getting lost for
who knows how long.
Dales Kitchen 2- Todd’s
Cabin (71.7-75.3)
The runner we had saved made his way back to the aid a bit
quicker than the captain and I. I was pretty spent from the whole ordeal, but
at least managed to maintain a decent pace walking/hiking the 1 mile to the
aid. At this point, I was still in somewhat of a mental (and physical daze) and
wasn’t thinking about much else other than getting to the aid to get some hot
soup and calories. However, as we walked, like a true aid station captain, my
new found friend informed me that I could still finish the race in under 24
hrs. His tone didn’t leave any room for question or doubt, so I let his words
sink in as we approached the aid. As disappointed as I was over the amount of
time and number of places I had lost, I knew I had to finish this race if at
all possible. I had DNF’ed last year, DNF’ed my last race attempt at SOB, and
so I wasn’t about to DNF this night, if I could at all avoid it. I let the good
captains words continue to motivate me as I took in those much needed calories,
and I did some mental calculations of what pace I would need to run in order to
still finish sub 24. The numbers and my perceived energy level/endurance
capacity checked out (needing to run about a 13-14 min/mi for the remaining 30
miles), so I thanked the good captain once more for saving my butt, assured him
I would finish sub 24, and headed on my way. My friend whom we redirected from
going off course earlier left the aid just before me, with the same sub 24 hour
goal, but I could tell from how he was moving that he might have trouble realizing
such.
When I arrived at Todd’s Cabin, I asked the time so I could calculate
my pace coming from Dales. I was a bit disappointed to learn I had only run a
15/min mile avg for the section. WTF? I swore I had run much faster then that.
Oh well, that just meant I had less time to down some mini quesadillas (not too
many of course, too much cheese at this point in the game would be no bueno).
As quickly as I could, I headed out with my two Coke bottles and continued my
trek toward the finish.
Todd’s Cabin to Penny
Pines 2 (75.3-80.3)
Things picked up on the next leg on down to Penny Pines 2, I
managed to shave 36 sec/mi off my time from the last leg (according to my
splits from Ultralive), whoo-hoo! By this point, my feet were really starting
to hurt. I had gotten a ton of debris, foxtails, rocks, and dirt in my shoes,
mainly from the multiple efforts trying to bushwhack my way to freedom back at
mile 70. I also had no shortage of cuts and scrapes all over my legs, which didn’t
help the situation any. I was too tired/lazy to take off my shoes, so I just
kept running despite the extreme discomfort. This resulted in some pretty bad
blisters, which were really giving me a hard time, especially over this
somewhat rocky stretch (after the race I would discover that my socks were
literally infested with foxtails, and I had developed several bad blisters, one
of which covered my entire right heel). ‘No pain, no gain’ as my former Navy
diver dad likes to say. I kept pushing forward.
Penny Pines 2 to
Pioneer Mail 2 (80.3-84.3)
Arriving at Pioneer Mail 2 was both encouraging and
discouraging all at once. I knew I had a 7 mile stretch ahead of me, which didn’t
sound good at all to my feet. At this point, I have no choice. At least there
were no major climbs left, and the trail on this stretch was relatively smooth,
compared to the rest of the course. Before departing, I again inquired as to
the time, and did some rough mental calculations to see if sub 24 was still in
the cards, and it indeed was.
Pioneer Mail 2 to
Sunrise 2 (84.3-91.5)
I ended up running a 12:54 min/mile to Sunrise, again, I
felt like I was running more like a 9 min/mile for a lot of that stretch, I
guess that’s just part of the delusional mindset that starts to set in during
the late night hours of 100 miler. The last mile of this stretch seem to go
forever, I kept thinking, “the aid must be just around this corner”, but it
never seemed to appear. Finally, after what seemed like 50 mini climbs and
turns, I arrived at the FINAL AID STATION!
Sunrise 2 to Finish!
(91.5-100.5)
I knew at this point I could for sure pull it off; I just
needed some more Coke to get me through the final 9 miles of this race. A
friendly volunteer topped me off, and I was off running, feeling confident I
could make pretty good time on this last segment. A few minutes later, I took a
sip of Coke and realized something was off. Somehow, I was given the ‘watered
down’ version and probably only had a couple hundred calories between the two
bottles, definitely not sufficient for my needs at this stage in the game
(mental note to self: for now on, always carry some back up fuel on you- I will
probably choose a 5 oz flask of honey for this in future races). The diluted
Coke definitely took its toll, I had passed a few runners, but they were soon
returning the favor as my energy demand began outnumbering my supply of watery
cola. Interestingly enough, some of these runners were guys I had passed back
around mile 50-60, so I am sure they were quite surprised to see me again. And
in case they didn’t recognize me, I made sure to let them know, “yeah, I got
lost for 3 HOURS, it was great!” On to the finish line. I have to admit, I did
not study the course map as diligently as I should have leading up to this race.
I had them all printed out to take with me on the cross country drive the week
before the race, and then of course forgot them at home. I did some last minute
cramming the day before the race, but we all know that never works out too
well. So, when I came to the fork, either heading toward the area of Chambers
aid, or going left on a more direct route toward the finish, I was clueless. I
decided to trust the two runners ahead of me and follow toward Chambers, while
two other runners took off on the more direct route. Turns out the three of us
went the right way. I’m pretty sure those other guys crossed the finish at sub
100 mile, but honestly who cares. I was pretty beat, but kept on truck ‘in. I
had to take some walk breaks here and there despite the relatively flat terrain,
mainly due to my lack of caloric intake; otherwise I’m sure I could have run
the final 9 miles. Soon enough the finish was in site, over the bridge, final
stretch. The sun was starting to come up, we were just 26 minutes shy of a full
24 hours from when we started this epic adventure. I crossed the line and did
the only thing I really cared to do, sat down. I still don’t understand why
these races don’t have a full on buffet of hot breakfast food waiting at the
finish line. I mean, that would really hit the spot. If I’m ever an RD, I will definitely
make this happen.
One of the volunteers handed me my buckle and medal, and of
course I had to let him know I had gotten lost, it just felt good to get if off
my chest to as many people as would listen, no sense keeping all that frustration
in. Between Chimera and TRT 100, I think I have run tougher races than SD100 in
terms of sheer vertical gain, but SD, as I recall RD Scott Mills stating, is ‘deceptively
challenging’. After experiencing the whole race, I can definitely say that with
its warm temps and somewhat rocky terrain, this is a valid statement regarding
this course of just 13k vertical gain. That being said, and taking into account
my getting lost, with cuts blisters and all, I can officially say this was my
hardest earned buckle to date. I will definitely wear/display it proudly.
After sitting and soaking it in for a while, I saw my wife walking
toward me, coming to pick me up at this early hour. I know how much she loves
her sleep, so it’s a real sacrifice to get me to and from these early morning ventures,
and I definitely couldn’t do it with her support. Love you Liz!
Well, that’s a wrap folks! Thanks for reading and until next
time, happy trails!
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