Western States III

Top of the Escarpment at 4 miles; photo by Drymax Socks

Writing up something about the 2012 Western States 100 could be a 10,000 word novella but I'm going to save that version (including swearing and long descriptions about being generally very uncomfortable) in my head.

Bryon Powell's irunfar has covered most of it in minute detail, mainly summarized here so instead I'll give a quick overview of one of the most memorable and inspiring days in trail running history. Admittedly there were a few top runners who either didn't enter or had to miss the starting line, but on paper it looked like the men and women would be racing to new levels of excellence.

After doing the 2010 and 2011 races, both with what were considered to be faster snow course diversions, I was looking forward to the full course. Weather reports suggested it'd be cold and wet early on then not very hot at all later and these proved to be true.

In summary, it started cold with rain then snow, sleet and hail. Winds cooled things down further and it wasn't until getting below 5,000ft for the first time after maybe 40 miles that temperatures became more comfortable. The canyons were mild and the hottest temperatures all day were barely over 70F (around 20C) - way lower than the usual furnace.

A lead pack of six hit the Escarpment summit at four miles and these guys pushed each other all day. After reaching that point a few minutes behind and around fifteenth, I zoomed down the first descents and really enjoyed the lack of snow on the course. I wasn't trying to eat into their lead, but went a little too fast and so had sore thighs from very soon afterwards which groaned at me all day. But thanks to the lead pack (Wolfeman, DBo, Jesus 2, Smokey (see the cigar photos of Nick Clark), Elder Statesman Mackey and the Zeke) getting lost along the still-marked 2011 snow diversions for a few minutes, I was somehow in the lead with Ryan Sandes.

They caught back up, then by Duncan Canyon at 23.8 miles I was with Ryan and they had a small lead. Some walking left me in eighth as they climbed to Robinson Flat, but I went past Zeke who looked rough. I wished him luck and suggested he spend a few mins in the next aid station to recover (he did and then had an amazing surge late on to come in sixth) then powered on in seventh, which I held solo for about eight hours. Annoyingly, the six ahead were together and at each aid station I was told this, so knew that catching one of them meant getting back in the lead.

But by Foresthill at 62.0 miles the group had spread slightly with Timmy leading and powering on to his new, super-human, course record. I was 18 minutes behind him and just behind Nick who supposedly looked rough and would be 'easy to catch' according to the volunteers. He wasn't and his ability to come back from the dead suggested more Jesus-like powers, combined with the beard...maybe that does help (beard thoughts). Or maybe his strength comes from the beard, like Samson. Whatever it is, it's biblical.

With my pacers along to help me out, I hoped to capitalize on the easier running in the course in the last 38. Instead I'd used up my ammunition too early and could only grunt through to the finish, albeit fairly steadily. Mike Wolfe was seen after the river doing a slow walk and I thought he was dropping at Green Gate (79.9 miles) but he battled on like at last year's UTMB and still finished a respectable eighteenth man.

Some miles went by well but I was in more pain than previous years, compensated for by being better trained for the hills and starting the race fresher than 2010 or 2011. All I wanted was to break 16 hours and I'd take whatever position that meant. I needed around 10 minute miles for the last 20 miles and kept pushing through miserable sections, just wanting it to finish. With a couple of miles to go I caught Dylan Bowman who was spent, then kept going with a little sprint around the track at the end, mainly to get it over with faster.

Here's a video of the first 10 men finishing and another of the first 10 women too. Plus Greg Lanctot was kind enough to scream at me while shooting me sprint round Placer High track:



I'd describe it as the hardest day of my life (yes, I've led a sheltered life) but with the consolation that as soon as you stop, much of the pain and effort evaporates. Focusing more on this race in 2012 has helped but there are still a lot of things to work on for next year, as I'm sure there will be for the following year, etc. Much as it felt like hell for most of the day, there's something irresistible about the race, not least the level of competition.

Six of us broke 16 hours when only nine had ever done this before and most had done it on supposedly faster (but hotter) courses. Anyway, irunfar can give you all the stats and full results are here. I was extremely happy with 5th in 15:54 and a third top 10 finish. But hats off to so many people for their speedy running, particularly Timmy and Ellie's ground-breaking course records of 14:46 and 16:47.

Damned good runs by Oregonians too with three in the top 10 men and the same in the top 10 women. Too many great performances to mention but it'll be worth reading all the blog reports and irunfar will link to plenty of them once they've been written. Thanks to everyone who helped to put on the race, help out or just turn up and especially to my pacers Zach Violett and Jeff Caba. Somehow listening to me grunt for several hours didn't put them off the race at all.

The Big Dance - Western States 2011

Eagle Falls at Lake Tahoe (not visible from the course at all)

Snow route course change

The last few days have been crazy for so many reasons. Doing a quick brain dump, some big highlights were:

1. a ski village with virtually every ultra celeb you can think of (almost surreal to walk around)
2. grown men dressed as Slash (Greg Lanctot) and the devil (Scott Dunlap)
3. seeing Tahoe again in perfect summer weather with family and friends
4. being part of an insanely competitive race
5. having flat-feeling legs but still giving the race a 100% effort (it is WS, after all)
6. spending all day trying to earn my spot for 2012 then finally breaking into the top 10 at 96 miles
7. bears upsetting the leading ladies in the last few miles

I don't think there's ever been a stronger ultra field put together (maybe TNF's 50 mile Championship Final last December). The sport is clearly moving onwards and upwards and it's great when this means more exciting races for both the runners and anyone crewing/spectating/pacing etc.

The build up days were fairly relaxed but there was clearly a lot of pressure on several of the top runners to win. Then the race started before the dawn at 5am on Saturday and it wasn't quite as fast paced as last year (nerves?). The snow was deeper and covered more of the course than even last year so we were running the C course (a variation on last year's B snow course). Conditions were cooler than normal with a high of maybe 90 degrees F in the second half but the snow was still icy and treacherous higher up. I heard that three people broke a leg on the snow, so I hope there wasn't anything too serious.

I slid all around in the high country and was glad to get temporarily out of it around mile 13. It was undoubtedly beautiful but this was lost on me as I tried to avoid twisting an ankle or breaking my wrist (note to self: practice this more since it should be fun). Then the course had some seriously easy terrain on a fire road where it was perfect for cruising at a decent pace. Duncan Canyon aid station came along at 23.8 miles and Quicksilver Running Club gave everyone a boost, including Slash and other costumes. Almost a quarter of the way through and everyone looked great, but I heard snippets from other runners that the leaders had had some wrong turns. I think Geoff Roes and Kilian Journet went off on a 15 minute diversion in the snow and some of the other leaders then did the same with Mike Wolfe and Dave Mackey doing something similar too. I gather that this left several people pissed off at the not always perfect course markings.

I was around 20th and felt like things were going well without having to push too much but that first section has to feel really easy. Soon after I started to feel much less positive and even the relatively slow 100 mile pace was tough. My legs had no energy and it was similar to Comrades a month earlier where I held the right pace for about 20 miles then the legs showed the lack of strength due to too much racing.

From 30-40 miles I was struggling and was seriously considering dropping out. I was still keeping up a decent pace and gaining positions but my legs were fairly trashed before hitting the three canyons which didn't bode well. I had the chance to run with so many excellent athletes up to this point and enjoyed chatting but kept thinking that this was not going to be a good day. Then I saw Geoff Roes at an aid station and he was hitting a really bad patch at the same time as me. I thought he was dropping but then he was running behind me and we managed a few miles together, both feeling a little sorry for ourselves. It seems the overtraining (over racing, really) that got me at Comrades hadn't disappeared fully, but it's still just about possible to run well in that situation, just not at your best.

It's a real shame to see such a great runner on an off day but when we ran down into the Devil's Thumb Canyon I could tell that he was much worse off than me. I was just flat and fatigued, while he had sore thighs and was fighting a cold. I hiked up the other side with Geoff and Sean Pope but suspected Geoff's day was over given he was hiking slower than me (it was a hard climb but the sort of thing he'd usually be able to run). I later learned that he dropped at just over halfway, but it was a pleasure to get to meet him and nobody's immune from illness hitting before a big race. I can see why he still chose to start since who wants to miss this race?

By this point I'd decided to give it my best shot and get everything out of my legs that I could. This race is not worth a tactical DNF and I was definitely capable of finishing so mentally switched gear and prepared myself to grind out the second 50.

The snow meant that the first time anyone could see their crew was Michigan Bluff at 55.7 miles so I got a boost from seeing Amy and her parents. Paul Terranova would be at Foresthill at 62.0 miles to pace me again as he did at Rocky Raccoon so I had that to look forward to as well. Unfortunately I took a wrong turn and missed Volcano Canyon, running off the wrong way for 3/4 of a mile before I accepted that there wouldn't be any course markings suddenly appearing and I had to turn back. I lost about 12 minutes and mentally was knocked off my perch, but ran the last canyon hard to reach Foresthill feeling good and faster than last year in 15th.

Paul and I ran strongly down towards the river and this section wasn't nearly as hot as last year, making it much more comfortable. I felt like I was going fast but really it was the tired legs exaggerating things. Then I saw Hal Koerner sat at the side who had to drop with trashed thighs. That meant two big guns out but still plenty of talent left in the race. We gradually caught a few people and passed a Japanese guy who I initially thought was a woman from behind from the way he was dressed (if you were there you know who I mean, but I can hardly talk about odd running costumes) and a Korean guy who I'd heard has the Massanutten 100 record as well as a 3rd place at WS a few years ago. Both these guys let me pass and I thought were out of it but then zoomed past me minutes later.

We raced down to the river and Paul and I managed to get enough of a gap that they couldn't see us so we had a boat to ourselves at 78 miles to cross the American River. This was the second year in a row of the water being so high that boats were required but one day I'll get to cross it myself on foot.

From this point Paul and I were in 100% race mode since I was 11th and top 10 is the big aim which gets the guaranteed entry for the next year. I expected someone to drop after the river (last year I was gifted about four places there) but nobody in the top 10 did, so I had to chase them down if I wanted it. I did!

At the start of the day I wouldn't have been happy with the prospect of 10th but I still had a chance at a very respectable time which would be much faster than I ran in 2010 and sometimes you have to adjust your targets mid-race.

I had a slight issue with running out of water for a mile leading up to Green Gate at 79.9 miles but soon got over it and seeing my crew helped boost me along. By this point you expect your legs to feel sore but I hadn't deteriorated as much as I'd feared earlier so felt like I was hammering along at a crazy pace when it was really much slower than when I'd been cruising earlier. The aid stations didn't quite fly by but I kept up a solid effort and just focused on getting to the next one.

At Auburn Lake Trails Paul checked how far ahead 10th place was and it was an eight minute gap with exactly 15 miles left. By Highway 49 at 93.5 miles it was a three minute gap and I got a final boost from seeing Amy so headed off in hot pursuit. After spending the previous five or so hours just focusing on catching the top 10, I was going for bust and nothing short of catching him would be enough. I didn't know who it was but I hoped I could go past strongly, put on some distance then tackle the last few miles uphill in the dark.

I don't think I've ever gone that hard for so long in a race and it was completely exhausting. My breathing made me sound like I was giving birth and I was dancing a fine line between staying mentally alert and bonking by taking on regular gels.

There's something intensely satisfying about racing and pushing yourself as far as you can but it's not necessarily fun at the time, especially if you fail at your goal, whatever it may be. That's why I couldn't let the hard day's work go to waste.

I know it's possible to have much more fun while also running as hard as you can, especially on beautiful trails in canyons, but this time it was just a pain fest. I'm really feeling it today and have never been this bad after a race before.

However, the day turned into a big success for me when I overtook Dan Olmstead with a little over four miles to go, charging downhill in the approaching darkness as if it was a 10k. The hard work wasn't over and I was paranoid about being caught all the way to the finish where I hit the Placer High School track just as AJW was finishing in 9th (in a huge PR of 16:39). I virtually collapsed and was a basket case but 16:40 and 10th was enough to make it all worthwhile.

I was never really in the proper race for the top positions and that was hard to take early on in the race but once I decided to see what I could do on tired legs, it became every bit as exciting (and stressful) as running for the win. The men's race was extremely close with four men under 16 hours and 14 under 17 hours. It sounds like a classic and eventually finished off with Kilian being the worthy winner but hotly followed by a several guys on top form.

1. Kilian Journet (Salomon) 15:34
2. Mike Wolfe (The North Face) 15:38
3. Nick Clark (Pearl Izumi) 15:50
4. Jez Bragg (The North Face) 15:55
5. Tsoyushi Kaburaki (The North Face) 16:04 (50 minutes off his own 40+ masters' record)
6. Tim Olson (Pearl Izumi) 16:18
7. Graham Cooper (??) 16:34
8. Dave Mackey (Hoka One One) 16:36
9. Andy Jones-Wilkins (Patagonia) 16:39
10. Ian Sharman (The North Face) 16:40

Damn that wrong turn! Full results here.

The ladies' race was equally thrilling and we'd hear updates at the finish as they passed the last aid stations. It seems the lead changed a few times in the second half but Ellie Greenwood flew through to take the win in her first 100 miler and is only the second lady to break 18 hours (the other is Ann Trason and I keep telling Ellie she needs to take down some of Ann's records...I'm sure it's just a matter of time).

There was a bear (supposedly with cubs) in the last few miles which held the lead women up. It seems that Ellie stopped briefly, then a male runner came along and they chased the bear off. The next ladies (Kami Semick, then Nikki Kimball and Tracy Garneau) had a concertina effect as they each got stopped by the bear for several minutes. Then Kami narrowly beat Nikki in a sprint finish on the track. I'm sure other blogs will tell the story more accurately.

The top ladies were:

1. Ellie Greenwood (Montrail) 17:55
2. Kami Semick (The North Face) 18:17
3. Nikki Kimball (The North Face) 18:17
4. Tracy Garneau (The North Face) 18:22
5. Rory Bosio (The North Face) 18:37
6. Aliza Lapierre (Salomon) 18:45
7. Megan Arbogast (Sunsweet) 18:50 (3 hours off the 50+ masters' record)
8. Amy Sproston (Montrail) 19:36
9. Becky Wheeler (??) 19:46
10. Pam Smith (unsponsored, but not for long) 20:40

Great day for The North Face as well as for Brits with Nick C, Jez, Ellie and myself up there. And I'm 99% certain that the top five men will all be at UTMB in August, as will Geoff and plenty of other fast guys. I think the women will mainly be skipping it in favor of the 100k Road World Championships in September in the Netherlands.

WS 2011 was something very special to be part of and I'm very glad I didn't opt to drop. Friends from the UK also came over to run and most finished. In particular, James Elson kicked off his Grand Slam (WS 100, Vermont 100, Leadville 100 and Wasatch 100 in the same year) with a 28:25. Not as fast as he'd hoped originally but after being completely injured from Rocky Raccoon in February he's barely put together a couple of days of running and told me last week that he can't really run downhill. I have no idea how he forced himself through the course but I'm seriously impressed. Two whole weeks of recovery then he'll be on the Vermont starting line.

Time for a rest and a couple of weeks completely off.

Ruth Anderson 50k

After using a double-header weekend in April last year to get ready for Comrades (Salt Lake City Marathon on a Saturday then Boston on the Monday), I wanted to do the same this year. But the closest I could fit in was Boston on last Monday then one of the Ruth Anderson Ultra distances on the Saturday. It was just a case of choosing what distance would be the best for me as well as the most fun - 50k, 50 miles or 100k. All I knew was that previous times were fast and it involved running around a lake in San Francisco, although I wasn't sure whether it was on a trail or if it had any hills.

Lucky, Race Director Rajeev Patel was really helpful and I opted for the 50k (on a basically flat bike path, it turns out) since I didn't want to be too tired to train well for the last few weeks before Comrades. It's against my general principle of running the longest distance if there's a choice, but 100k was really a bit much and something shorter and faster made more sense.

The course is around Lake Merced and all the distances involve combinations of laps and part laps of the accurate 4.47 mile route. I'd never been before so it was a good excuse to see somewhere new and not too far from home, plus it's a really fun race with a great, friendly atmosphere (well, it's an ultra so this isn't unexpected). Rajeev definitely knows what he's doing and it's a very efficient and effective operation.

All the races started together soon after sunrise and I found myself running in the lead with a French guy, Martin, for almost three laps. The trusty Garmin was there to keep me honest around a 6:15/mile pace (3:14 in total for the 50k) but Martin was pushing me faster and I couldn't help but stick with him.

Laps flew by and the legs seemed to be fine, even after a run up and down Mt Diablo two days before (Western States fear is kicking in as it's not far away). I managed to keep the pace even throughout, which is the main aim of a training run, but I couldn't settle down into Comrades pace at the 6:15s. It was weird but every time I tried to correct my pace I'd go too slow so I just had to stick with something a little closer to 6s since then I could then keep it even. As issues go, this is certainly better than if I could only settle into a pace that was too slow, but the main aim was to focus on learning the right pace.

The aid stations were great and everyone was really supportive as the laps ticked off until I got to the finish feeling a little more tired than I'd intended and having tried harder than I meant to. But I got a course record in just under 3:11 and felt like I could have kept going, although not for 40k more, as at Comrades. However, I'm really happy with my progress so far this year and it was very enjoyable. I did feel a bit left out when I saw everyone keep going but I'll wait a few months before doing a road 100k. Joe Binder knocked out an impressive 7:00 and a few seconds for a great win although I'm sure he's disappointed to get so close to breaking 7h. Full results here.

I've been mentioning Comrades more on the blog recently because I'm definitely getting more obsessed as it gets closer, and now it's just five weeks away. But if I can hit the target time of 2:41 next weekend at the Big Sur Marathon (to fill in one of two remaining gaps in my marathon minute game, as mentioned in earlier posts) then I'll feel like all's perfectly on track after about six weekends in a row of long races at a decent pace. Which will just leave the Miwok 100k the following weekend, but that's going to be at a much more comfortable pace and the leaders will have washed and showered by the time I finish. It was one of my most enjoyable runs last year and this year should be equally as good, plus I'll know a lot more of the guys this time around.

Rocky Raccoon 100 Course Record

I've had a bit of time to digest the race on Saturday and it still seems very surreal. I'm guessing that my normal blog readership of me and my Mum (actually, I know she doesn't even read it) may be slightly higher for this write up. I've just been blown away by the huge amount of coverage and attention I've received since I finished, from autographing shoes at the finish line (no, really) to having more activity on my Facebook page in a day than in a normal year.

And it seems all that much stranger to me because this wasn't meant to be a big deal. It was just me returning to the place where I tried to run my first 100 last year. I don't like DNFing or having a bad race, so had to come back to retry, even though the reason last year was a December injury that wiped out virtually all running in December and January. I only got back to training again a week before that race, largely thanks to Mark DeJohn (http://www.activebend.com/index.html) in Bend, OR, fixing me very quickly. But virtually no mileage for two months meant I only went to the race because everything was prepaid.

This year I was fit and fairly well rested, but I entered months ago and didn't see any super speedy guys entered at the same time. So my aim had been to train for the Phoenix marathon in mid-January to improve speed and then use this race as a start to the ultra season. That changed about 10 days before the race when a who's who of US ultrarunning (see http://karlmeltzer.com/2011/01/rocky-raccoon-odds/ to get an idea) suddenly signed up to turn it into one of the most competitive looking 100s of the year. Given there's not many chances to race a several famous ultrarunners on the same day, it seemed like a good idea to give it my best shot and see how I could do.

I won't go into too much detail about anything other than the race because Bryon Powell at irunfar interviewed me very thoroughly to give background to anyone who I haven't met and who is interested - http://www.irunfar.com/2011/02/ian-sharman-post-2011-rocky-raccoon-100-interview.html. irunfar also provided great live coverage via Twitter which (to my surprise) kept some of my friends back in the UK up into the wee hours. There's also a great race report for the entire event on irunfar at http://www.irunfar.com/2011/02/ian-sharman-destroys-rocky-raccoon-100-course-record.html and my pacers were lightning quick in writing up their story on there too - http://www.irunfar.com/2011/02/ian-sharmans-pacerscrew-report-on-his-rocky-raccoon-100-win.html.

As I said, it's all been a bit crazy since I finished and everyone suddenly seems to want to know how someone they hadn't heard of beat a 15-year course record. So, here's my take on the race, which was immaculately organized by Joe Prusaitis and his team.

Apart from the buzz about the big names attending the race, the main topic of discussion in the days before the race was the winter storm which was freezing Texas and even parts of Mexico. In the end, I think about 200 runners out of 600-700 across the 50-mile and 100-mile events didn't turn up and many just weren't able to travel thanks to flight delays.

Luckily I flew from San Jose, CA, where it was February heat wave time, but Houston airport was still suffering some delays. I wondered whether the elite field would be thinned out and I think it was for the women, but not the men. And even at the car hire I met a runner who I offered a lift to. We chatted and he mentioned he was doing the 50-mile and eventually we got round to names and I found out he was Todd Braje, a member of the US 100k team who I'd heard of. He also went on to smash the 6h01m CR in 5h41m (according to my memories from after the race) or 5h48m (from an unofficial posting I saw online). I'd like to say we swapped tips for breaking the records, but we mainly chatted about 100ks and how this would be a good opening ultra to start the season.

I met up with a friend from the UK, James Elson, at the Motel 6 in Huntsville. He's running a lot this year (RR, Umstead, Comrades and the Grand Slam) after finishing Badwater last year. Then we headed to packet pick-up, the pre-race meal and a chance for me to meet my Texas-based pacers, Paul and Meredith Terranova. I'd only met Paul once before, at the 50k TNFEC in San Francisco where we raced around each other for 1st and 2nd, so it had been great to get his offer to crew and pace for me at RR. And I'd not met Meredith before, so was pleased to see that she was totally focused and excited about the race. Probably a lot more focused and with more of a plan and strategy than I had.

Meredith told us that the course looked in great shape, although the wooden bridges were icy, then James and I ate and both got early nights while Meredith helped mark the course. I'd tried to gradually adjust my body clock for the previous few days so that a 2am (Pacific Time) alarm for a 6am (Central Time) start wouldn't leave me like a zombie on the start line. I envied the east coasters who'd been able to fly in since that would be almost a lie-in.

Race morning was cold, and was no higher than 25 degrees F even by the time we started, so I had to scrape ice off the hire car and had multiple layers on with hat and gloves. Even Anton Krupicka (the favorite for most people) wouldn't be doing his trademark topless running in this weather. Although I'd have been impressed if he had.

At 5:58am I was at the start line in Huntsville State Park, surrounded by ultra legends (all of whom were taller than me, by a large margin in Scott Jurek's case). They all knew each other well while I was looking forward to jogging with them for, hopefully, a long time and getting a chance to chat to them.

The gun went off and Zach Gingerich flew off into the pitch black and out of sight with Norman Decelles (who later dropped at 40 miles). I settled into a pack of about six, which included Scott, Anton, Hal Koerner, Mike Wolfe and Karl Meltzer. For a while it also included the women's winner, Liza Howard, although I think she backed off slightly when she recognized a couple of the guys.

The course involves five 20-mile loops with several sections that have two-way traffic, particularly the first and last few miles of each lap. Aid stations are spaced so it's usually 3-4 miles between them, but with a 6-mile loop out and back to the DamNation station. Each is well stocked with everything you need, so I opted to not really use any of my own food but just force myself to eat and take a gel almost every time I hit a station.

The first time we reached DamNation was 6.2 miles in and it was still dark. The guys around me stopped for a drink then Anton jumped into the bushes for a break while I was left on my own. This wasn't the (rather vague) plan. I'd expected Zach and Anton to probably go off at the front and set the pace, but I was in 3rd on my own and running around 7:45/mile. I purposefully left the Garmin at home so that I wouldn't try to adjust my pace to hit any kind of target. Instead I opted to run purely by how I felt and go at a pace that was comfortable but not too slow. At this point, that meant sub 8-minute miling, which was below CR pace (which was 7:57/mile).

I wasn't too concerned to be on my own but hoped they'd catch up soon since I could hear them around 30 seconds back, talking and occasionally hooting loudly. Instead, it got light and I caught up to Norman and ran with him for a few miles, including a nasty ankle twist that was close to ending my race. I concentrated a bit harder after that since it's well known as a rooty course that can easily trip a runner up. He was in just shorts and T-shirt and his hands were painfully cold, especially holding the block of ice that had been his water supply. My hydration pack had also frozen, so I was reduced to only drinking every few miles at the aid stations. But the forecast had said that it should go above freezing by around 10am, which should be mid-way through loop two...kind of a long time to run with almost no liquids being taken on board. We ran into the last aid station of the loop together, at 15.6 miles but he stayed longer than me and I was on my own again.

Luckily my crew were on the ball at the end of the loop they offered me a handheld water bottle while I asked them to thaw out my backpack in case I wanted it later. It was still too cold to strip down much, but I felt comfortable so was happy to keep wearing multiple layers.

Thanks to the out-and-back section into Dogwood (the start/finish aid station), I saw that Zach was about six minutes ahead (2h23m for his loop) and that a huge pack of maybe eight guys was right behind me by around a minute.

Loop two was uneventful and I was feeling very relaxed. At DamNation it was exactly 26.2 miles and I think my time was around 3h13m. That sounded a bit fast for a 100 miler, but I decided to stay with the same comfortable pace and not judge it on the times or splits (that was the point of not using the Garmin). What did surprise me was that I was told that Zach was about a minute ahead, which meant I'd closed five minutes in six miles. I didn't think I'd sped up that much, so presumed he'd slowed down.

I found out around 50k (31 miles) into the race, when I caught him and ran alongside for a while. Like everyone else in the sport, he was really down-to-earth and I asked him how he thought Umstead (where he ran 13h23m last year) compared to RR. He said it was a little harder, which Hal Koerner contradicted when I spoke to him at the end of the race. Maybe I'll run it one day to find out.

Zach seemed to be struggling slightly and so I gradually pulled away (not intentionally) by around 34 miles to take the lead. It was also starting to warm up a little, but only enough for me to loosen my clothing rather than take off another layer at the end of the loop. This made me think more about hydration and the next time I saw Meredith, at 35.6 miles, I took the 10 oz water bottle she offered me. I'd not really drunk much to this point and hadn't sweated much either due to the cold, but as it warmed up, I wouldn't be able to get away with not drinking more.

I heard later from my crew that Zach was having stomach issues and that showed since he was still in 2nd but was five minutes back at 40 miles, with me going through in 4h54m. Hal and Anton were together 10 minutes behind me, closely followed by several others, but the big pack had broken up.

At this point I was just enjoying the sunny day and the trails were a joy to run on. I didn't think too much about the fact I was leading or that I still had 60 miles to go. All that mattered was getting to the next aid station and making sure I kept drinking and eating. I'd refill the bottle at every opportunity, always with whatever sports drink was on offer. And while it was being refilled by volunteers, I'd eat as much as I could and drink a couple of cups of whatever was lying around.

Lap three was warmer and I felt fine as I went through 50 miles in just under 6h10m. I knew I hadn't slowed down and that my race was going well, but I could only hope that I'd last out the final laps without anything going wrong. And the list of potential problems that could wipe out a huge lead was long: dehydration, overhydration, stomach problems, muscle cramps, tripping on the roots, general fatigue etc. By no means did I feel like I had the race sewn up, even when I went through 60 miles in 7h23m with an increased lead of 18 minutes over Anton and Hal. I wasn't even thinking about anything like that, just about getting to the next aid station feeling ok and repeating.

Paul joined me for the fourth loop, which meant I got to run with someone for the first time in about a marathon. For hours I'd been passing people in both directions and it was helpful to have someone fresh to help call out to people, to say hi, to encourage them etc. The lap went smoothly for the most part and I was down to just shorts and T-shirt from the point he joined me. One urgent stomach problem caused a quick jump into the bushes, but it wasn't chronic and I was able to run freely straight away.

I'd told Paul that I didn't want to risk anything by running too hard and that 8-minute miling would be perfect for a 2h40m loop (following splits so far of 2h29m/2h25m/2h29m). That would have left just under three hours for the last loop to break 13 hours and be well under the CR of 13h16m. It seemed possible, but with no guarantees.

For a few miles I told Paul I'd have to talk less, particularly over some of the small inclines. But I came out the other side and finished the loop feeling strong and picking up the pace to hit 80 miles in 9h58m for a 2h35m loop. The first thing I said to Meredith was that I'd just like to take it easy and not risk blowing up or tripping, since I had three hours to break 13, just as I hoped. I think I may also have said that I'd be very happy with it being an 80-mile race and that sub 10 for that was a good achievement for the day. Unfortunately, there're no accolades for running mainly a good race and I still had potentially the hardest bit ahead.

Meredith was so easy to run with, just like Paul, letting me dictate pace and chatting away to take my mind off things. I had to stop and jump in the bushes early on, but felt fine immediately afterwards again. Then she nipped off for a bathroom stop after about four miles and arranged to meet me further along the trail since she knows it so well from racing and pacing at RR many, many times (as I only found out afterwards, Paul and she had paced winners for the past four years at RR).

I was still waiting for something bad to happen and saving my mental energy for dealing with it, but things kept going well. Along the lap, I was able to keep up a good pace and our target was to get to the final aid station at 95.6 miles before it got dark so that we could pick up headlamps from Paul. We easily made it and now I was willing to accept that I'd probably win. All I had to do was not trip on a root in the dark.

So, as we got to maybe three miles from the finish, we decided it was time for the lights. I looked down into my hands to adjust it and put it round my head and immediately tripped at full speed. Luckily I naturally rolled and was up again almost in one fluid motion. That had been a very close one and I became much more alert to avoid ruining everything in the last miles. However, the fall seemed to upset my stomach again and I had to jump into the bushes one last time (I hoped).

My lamp was kind of pathetic and Meredith's floodlight from behind me casted a shadow of my body, even though my lamp was aimed straight at the shadow. We managed to run in a formation so that her lamp lit my path better (as well as most of the forest). Even in the dark, I'd say we were able to keep up some pace, but it's so difficult to tell.

As we went into the final mile, then final half mile, we sped up. I knew it was all easy paths underfoot and the adrenaline was pumping. It wasn't just going to be below 13 hours, but well below and much faster than I would ever have anticipated.

The final straight towards the finish lights was gradual acceleration up to virtually a sprint. This was either flashy and a perfect finish to a day that went flawlessly or the chance to fall head-over-heels at full speed with everyone watching. But I didn't trip this time and crossed the mat in 12:44:33, slicing almost five hours off my best and only 100 mile time.

Meredith and Paul had done such a great job of keeping me going and making sure I had everything I needed to hand. And the volunteers, RD and weather had all made it enjoyable and excellent conditions for people to run their best.

I lay in the finish tent with my feet raised, trying to eat and drink while having people come up to me to congratulate me. I had no appetite, especially for anything sweet, but forced myself to eat and drink, especially the cheeseburger (which was good). It was almost anticlimactic since I'd been bracing myself to deal with issues for hours and nothing major had happened to screw up my race.

Then Anton came in and I remember seeing his face upside down (since I was lying down with elevated feet) and he may have said 'You bastard!' in a friendly way or I may have made that up while the blood was rushing to my head. He'd gone faster than his previous win, but just outside the old CR, getting 13:18:52 (results here - http://www.ultralive.net/rr100/webcast.php). I was just relieved he didn't catch me. Hal came in seven minutes later and I found myself sitting down with those boys plus Scott Jurek at the finish, having a beer. This is when it really seemed surreal - I expected to come in and see them sat there having won and me just being yet another person who finished behind them. It was a lot of fun and an honor to meet them all. Not sure there's been a 100-miler on trails with so many fast times before.

There was some talk of my time being a 100 mile world best, but the magic of Google quickly turned that into a lie, since Jonas Buud of Sweden ran 12:32 in 2010 in a trail race in Sweden. Whether it was an easier course or not is irrelevant, it was still not a road or track course, so at least his record has been better publicized now. I should get a chance to race him at Comrades in June and the 100k World Championships (where he's the current silver medallist) in September.

I went back in the morning to see some of the runners finishing around 28 hours and it just brought home what a great sport this is and how much emotion and camaraderie it brings out in people. I heard there was also some kind of big game down in Dallas a few hours later, but I was on a plane during that and didn't really want to watch the commercials or Christina Aguilera's bad memory anyway.

Photos below, plus my favorite one is here on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=501968859657&set=a.501968079657.285390.814289657 Looks like I'll be needing a beard to be taken seriously in this sport.

Photos courtesy of Paul and Meredith Terranova (am looking for the shots people took of the three of us if anyone has any)

Another swift pitstop

Done. Time for the first place pottery



I've looked worse

Congratrulations to all the finishers and those who had to drop too. Hope the injuries and soreness fade to leave memories as good as mine.

Big Sur River Run 10k and Training Thoughts

Nice views in Big Sur.

Post-race fat loading at Nepenthe along Route 1.

After not running a 10k for over a year, I decided I should try it again and learn how to do it properly. Luckily, I chose the Big Sur River Run in Pfeiffer State Park.

The park is in the famous Big Sur area and gave Amy and myself a chance to see the a long section of coastline used in the Big Sur marathon (which I'm now really excited about doing next year), including the 1932 Bixby Bridge.

Even though the race was in the park, it followed the river and was on the roads instead of trails so was a fast course. It's also fairly old and established, with this being the 30th running.

Anyway, I've felt more normal in training for the past week so tried a 5k on the treadmill on Thursday and almost collapsed during it, but managed 16:29 for a PB. Wasn't sure whether that would leave me too tired for Saturday morning (it was a really tough session and I've avoided hard sessions for a while), but today went well with a new 10k PB of 34:38 and third. Had to run myself into the ground to not slow down and spent the whole time trying to hold on to the coat tails of the guy in third until I just squeezed past near the end.

So it was satisfying to have two mentally and physically tough runs close together. From what I've been learning from Tim Noakes' 'Lore of Running' (am still getting through this bible-sized tome), teaching the brain's 'central governor' how to push harder and allow me to run faster is the key to improving. That should mean that every hard run I do where I don't give in and allow myself to slow, even as my heart rate soars, would make it easier for next time. This isn't just improving mental toughness, but teaching the mind's natural mechanism for protecting the heart muscle from oxygen depletion how to accept higher effort levels (it's too conservative and has been shown by Noakes to be more of a limiting factor than oxygen and energy stores to the legs and arms).

His book is fascinating and completely science-based, explaining the flaw in the generally accepted paradigm that an athlete's performance is determined mainly by VO2 max. He shows how performance drops off even though there is still energy and oxygen enough for the outer muscles. Instead, it's the oxygen available to the heart that sends triggers to the brain to force the 'central governor' to kick in and force the body to feel more fatigue than the arms and legs justify. I've butchered the explanation and shortened many chapters into two paragraphs, but I can appreciate the logic and science he uses to back it up. Plus I'm sure I'm not the only one who knows how much easier it is to do a particular time or performance for the second time. This was very clear to me in my second sub 3-hour marathon, which was much easier than the first because my brain was willing to accept I could take it, so it didn't try to hold me back to protect the heart. It had been taught that that level of effort was ok, even though I hadn't got any fitter in the intervening month.

Bixby Bridge, Big Sur

I'll be taking on board what I've learned from Prof. Noakes to hopefully significantly improve my running in 2011. Step one will be to race hard in long races less often. It's a tough one, but I'll force myself to jog more long races and just focus on the ones that count...well, I'll try.

Western States Endurance Run - The last 38 miles (the hard bit)

Downhill all the way...kind of (right to left).

Green Gate aid station at 79.8 miles when I'd just started to feel ok again.

Highway 49 aid station at 93.5 miles, just after darkness.

Do I look fresh with 6.7 miles to go?

Thank f*&@ that's over!

This very accurately reflects how I felt at the end.

So I got through to 62 miles and the Foresthill aid station ok. Everything was going well and I felt fine, plus I thought the hardest section was done after the famously hot canyons had been traversed. But accidentally leaving my timing chip at Foresthill was nothing compared to how much I didn't enjoy the last 38.2 miles.

I never expected the race to be easy but as I headed downhill towards Dardanelles at 65.7 miles I started to feel odd in my stomach. Then dizziness also hit me and all I could do was jog the easy downhills instead of running them. At the aid station I told them about my lack of timing chip and tried to eat and drink as much as I could, making sure to not just drink pure water but have electrolyte tablets too. I think I'd skipped putting the tablets in my water the previous time so maybe that was the cause, but I can't be sure of the timings as the time from Foresthill down to the Rucky Chucky crossing of the American River at 78 miles is a bit blurry.

I know I kept leap-frogging Dan Barger over this sun-soaked trail (I didn't know his name until I saw the results) as we both went through better and worse patches. It was the sun which really hit me since the previous hot canyons had been generally shaded by trees, but this easy trail was exposed. I've no idea how hot it was but the results show that I ran those 16 miles between 3:21pm and 6:10pm so if it had cooled down, it wasn't by much. This is where I was meant to really eat away at the miles but instead I was going slower than before.

It felt like I was crawling along even though I think I managed under 11 minute miles. I even had to walk frequently on flat sections, never mind anything uphill. This was the least enjoyable running experience I've ever had, tied with the sand dunes on the long day of the Marathon des Sables. At least it wasn't as hot as the Sahara but it felt like I was being cooked inside my head.

It's at these times that you really question why you're doing a race and how important a finish or a good time is to you. I needed motivators to force me forward and at first I struggled to find them. Usually it's that I really want a good time to prove something to myself or to justify the training and hard work. But I was having so little fun that I couldn't even slightly appreciate the great views along the river valley, never mind focus on driving myself forward. But I did come up with a few reasons to keep pushing and these are what stopped me walking to the finish line:

1. Amy would be waiting at Green Gate at 79.8 miles and had to hike there in the blazing sun, so I didn't want to keep her waiting or force her to walk back uphill for a mile and a half in the dark.

2. If I walked it would take forever and I'd be forced to endure the fatigue and hell for many extra hours.

3. I'd already put in over 11 hours of running so I'd better not waste that by a really weak finish.

I have to admit I was also motivated by the thought that if I had a slow race I'd have to come back again so by making this one respectable I could avoid the hell again next year. At this point I swore to myself that I would never do Badwater. Never. It would just be like this the whole time and I'd rather have some fun in my races (even WS had been fun for the first 62 miles). I also questioned whether I want to do many other 100 milers or whether it'd be better to stick to slightly shorter races which I can enjoy the whole way through. Besides, I can do as many marathons and doubles as I like but a 100 miler requires a chunk of time before and after where I can't do as much running or racing, so that's a big sacrifice.

Almost disappointingly I didn't have any hallucinations (still never managed that), just lots of negative thoughts. It was also harder to judge distances as I felt I was going faster than I was.

But I eventually got to Rucky Chucky and looked forward to an easy dingy ride across since the snow meant more melt water and no foot crossing of the river. I stuffed my face with food and drink at the near side of the crossing, then enjoyed the 30 seconds of sitting down in the dingy while thanking the volunteers profusely for their help - I was so genuinely grateful that they were taking me 200ft closer to the finish without me having to do anything.

I'd had my race number on an elastic belt, which had snapped many miles before so was carrying the number in my hand instead. Therefore I almost went through the far side aid station unnoticed. I think almost everyone has a pacer by this point so when they saw me on my own they must have assumed I was someone else's pacer, just waiting around. I told them my race number so they could check me in and out and I had to repeat it several times since my neutral English accent seems to be impenetrable to most Americans. This became very wearing when I had to do it at the start and end of every single aid station. I spoke as clearly as possible and enunciated very clearly but only about once did people understand me on the first time that I said my number was 'four-zero-seven' (that number is firmly etched on my memory now). Obviously I'm thankful for the volunteers giving up their time but the officiousness of many of them plus the need to constantly repeat my number is not ideal when I was very tired and feeling like death.

I was out the aid station as quickly as possible and hiking up the trail towards Green Gate and Amy. Almost immediately I passed Hal Koerner, the winner of the previous two races, who was walking uphill slowly with a slight limp. He said he'd had some injuries coming into the race but it was a shame to see him drop.

Over the 1.7 mile climb to where I'd see Amy again (I really needed a familiar face), I somehow gained five positions to get into 9th. I didn't know that at the time and this was partly because a couple of those positions were due to people dropping. I think the food and drink from the last few aid stations was paying off, plus there was more shade. I came back into the more conscious world and was through the worst of the day, although I couldn't be certain at that point. Amy perked me up although she'd left the timing chip in the car as she didn't realise I'd take it off when changing my socks and shoes. At least my mind was put at rest because she said she'd give it back at the Highway 49 Crossing aid station at 93.5 miles, the last time I'd see her before the finish.

I'd planned to pick up my headlamp here but forgot. That meant I had to get to Highway 49 by 9pm when the twilight would have turned to pitch black. 2h30m for 13.7 miles, which looked like being tight, especially with at least one nasty climb left before 93.5 miles.

The next aid station was 5.4 miles away but I had a second wind and was able to run well over the undulating forest trails. The shade really helped and made me feel almost fine again. Either I was more screwed up than I realised or that 5.4 miles is actually a lot longer because I was running really smoothly yet supposedly averaged over 11 minute miles. I'm pretty sure I was only going that slow on the uphills and that I was going much quicker most of the time. Anyway, this section was enjoyable again and I had the new motivator that if I didn't get to Amy before dark then I'd be forced to walk slowly until I got my lights and that could force me to be out a lot longer.

Then there was a real gem of a boost for me at Auburn Lake Trails aid station at 85.2 miles. As I came into the station a volunteer jogged with me and acted just like I needed. He said all the right things and was really focused on getting me through the station fast (more so than I was). Also, he had a disposable hand flashlight which I could take. This was such a surprise that I was taken aback and it gave me piece of mind to know that I'd be ok even if it got dark before I reached Amy...not that it'd allow me to slow down.

All of the miles from 80-90 went by fast with one more position gained and there was still light as I started the climb up to the Highway 49 Crossing. I ran when I could, which was a big improvement on earlier climbs and I got there at 9:02, just a few minutes after darkness and 16 hours into the race.

I still didn't know what position I was in but hoped it was at least top 10, so I asked and was happy to find out it was 8th. Amy gave me the chip but I didn't even take any food or drink from her, just from the aid station. I'd not eaten much in the past couple of hours because the sugary gels and treats were just becoming sickly. That wasn't due to stomach issues, just the fact that I'd eaten about half my weight in sugar so far that day and probably wouldn't have any teeth left by the end. They weighed me at around 150 pounds, so I'd maintained around my starting weight of 149. I think the highest was around 151 at Foresthill, so I probably had taken on the water previously to that and not absorbed it, leading to my horrible 16 miles.

I didn't even take the headlamp from Amy but just kept the hand-held one I'd been given. Only 6.7 miles to go but I was going to make sure I'd jog and get through it. I don't like night running much, usually because it only happens when I've been running all day and am too tired to focus well. But the circle of light in front of me was mesmerising and I kept putting one foot in front of the other. Time lost any meaning and I'd sometimes look at my watch to find 20 minutes had flown by and sometimes that two minutes had crawled by. It was also difficult to know if I was going up or down unless it was steep, which was a weird experience.

Would I get to the finish and break down with emotion? Would I collapse from exhaustion? I really didn't know, but just kept staring hard at the track and looking for every piece of yellow surveyor's tape and the infrequent glow-sticks. I rarely got lost during the whole day but have to admit that the course markings weren't always frequent enough. I liked the Eco Trail de Paris 80km race where you could always see a piece of surveyor's tape. At WS, I'd sometimes go minutes worrying that I'd missed a turn or a fork, especially at night. Even in the light much earlier on there were at least a couple of turns that weren't marked and where I stopped, looked around with another runner and found no markings within sight. At these points I chose the likeliest looking turn but often didn't see tape again for a couple of minutes. It's only a small issue and most of the trail was well marked, but I expected more from this race, especially for a $300 entry fee.

The last aid stations at No Hands Bridge and Robie Point were in a party mood and seemed surprised to see me with no pacer (well, I've never needed one before). I didn't spend much time at them as I wanted to finish and get the ordeal over with, although I was feeling generally ok.

Even over those last 6.7 miles there's plenty of up and down and the last 3.4 miles from No Hands Bridge (which was beautifully lit up with outdoor Christmas-style lights) is virtually all uphill. All I could see outside of my circle of light was the full moon, which provided no helpful light on the tree-covered paths. At any other time it would have been a stunning stroll, but I still couldn't fully appreciate the scenery. Then I saw two lights in the distance behind me, probably five minutes back. I certainly wasn't going to let anyone catch me now so I sped up and powered on to the road into Auburn, wanting to avoid a sprinting race for position. People were sat outside their houses cheering, although many only cheered after I passed and they realised I was in the race and not just some strange guy jogging on his own at 10:20pm (the lack of pacer again made me look like I wasn't in the race).

Finally I entered the track at Placer High School and ran a solid victory lap into the finish for 17h26m19s. It was great to finish, really relieving. There wasn't euphoria, just exhaustion, but I shook the race director's hand and refused the chair as I wanted to walk around to keep the blood moving and avoid stiffening up immediately. Well, I avoided the stiffening for a few minutes anyway.

What was my impression from my first 100 miler? Well, I have more respect for those who are out for longer than me. No matter how slow you go, it's a hard, hard slog. And the slower you go, the longer you have to suck it up.

WS was great but also disappointing in some ways. The course is spectacular and a real challenge, plus it's generally organised very well. And if you want a race against the best trail ultra runners in the world, it's the place to go. But running 100 miles is a lot less fun than running 50 for me. Plus I can actually run 50 rather than walking or shuffling and I prefer running.

At 63 miles in and for the remainder of the day, I was convinced I'd never return and that I wouldn't use the automatic entry from getting top 10. I've never finished a race and sworn to never do it again, but I did say that immediately after the finish...before changing my mind 30 minutes later. I know for certain that I don't want to do Badwater or any longer races, but I've already entered Rocky Raccoon 100 in February and would like to have a shot at the course record of 13h16m (at least that's all running). UTMB in 2011 is not a certainty, but I'm coming round to it now. And although I didn't enjoy much of the day, it is VERY satisfying to finish and good to know that I didn't cave in when it got tough, even when I stopped caring about the race.

I think I learned a few things out there on the trails and I definitely pushed myself in a new and interesting way. 8th wasn't bad for a first attempt, although the time and place were worse than I'd hoped for. One thing I'll definitely not do wrong again is getting lazy with taking my hydropack off and not putting Nuun tablets in. I'd also want to do more mountain training and heat training for WS for next year. UTMB would probably be more fun since the only issue I had was heat/hydration related and it's definitely not as hot there. But I couldn't get away with the lack of uphill training that I had this year.

WS won't overtake Comrades as my focus and 2011 will definitely be all about nailing Comrades with a gold. But a month later I'll be lining up in Squaw Valley like a drug addict waiting for his fix. Besides, I have to check out the normal course after doing a snow year.

Ultras have inspired me and driven me for the past five years and now I can branch out into 100s as well. Not exclusively, but I'm definitely up for throwing in a couple of them each year.

Congratulations to all the finishers and especially to Geoff Roes for smashing the course record by 29 minutes, finishing in a mighty 15h07m. Anton Krupicka led most of the way with Kilian Journet but they finished in 15:13 and 16:04, respectively, after Killian dropped off the pace with 20 miles to go. Mind you, if he'd not run 1,000km across the Pyrenees three weeks earlier then he would have been a bit fresher and maybe the heat got him too. Those three ran really impressively, but there was plenty of hot competition behind them too. And fellow Brit (now Colorado-based), Nick Clark, almost pipped Kilian for 3rd with a sprint over the last couple of miles and a time of 16:05. Not bad to have five of the top 10 (those four plus me) doing their first WS.

Western States Endurance Run - The first 62 miles

One minute to kick off.

Time for the first long hike of the day.

Sunrise over Lake Tahoe.

Near the top of Emigrant's Pass at four miles.

Desert hat in the snow.

Just a scrape, luckily.

The lake on the snow route.

Around Duncan's Canyon at 25ish miles.

Over halfway at Michigan Bluff aid station.

Compression socks for the last 38.2 miles.

Finally - the big one. Western States had been on my 'must do' list for a few years but it still seems like it sneaked up on me before I was ready.

The original and most prestigious 100-miler (100.2 miles, according to the organisers) hit its 37th running in 2010. I think it was Dean Karnazes' book, 'Ultramarathon Man' where I first heard about it and he certainly made it sound appealing if you're of the right frame of mind. It seems like the logical next step for an ultrarunner to take on a 100-miler after stuff up to 100k, so I knew I'd do it at some point.

But this isn't an easy race to get into. To give an idea, there were something like 1,700 entrants into the lottery (every respectable race has one these days...except Comrades) for around 350 places. There were other routes to get in, but these can basically be summarised as elite entries and old guys who started the race. To get those elite places, you either need to come in the top two men or women (you can't choose which, unfortunately) in some select races in the Montrail Ultra Cup or be top 10 from the previous Western States.

Over the years, the history and reputation of the race has only increased and it always attracts a very strong field. This year there were probably 20 men and 20 women who would be favourites for most trail ultras if they showed up normally. But when put together it makes for a great, highly competitive race which is very hard to call. I won't go into the main contenders as I briefly mentioned them in my last posting, plus there's plenty of chatter on the internet about them already. However, this year's men's field was almost certainly the best ever and probably the most elite set of (trail) ultra runners ever assembled. So I wasn't even on most people's radar...which was kind of pleasant. It meant nothing was expected of me, but also that unless I did well, I'd still be off everyone's radar.

Getting back to the actual race, it starts in Squaw Valley, a few miles from Lake Tahoe and at an altitude of 6,250ft, and goes through California's Sierra Nevada mountains to Auburn, at 1,280ft. Although there are certainly steeper races, it still has 18,040ft of climbing and 21,970ft of descent (yes, I know that doesn't add up, but it's what the website says). It is particularly known for the heat and temperatures in the gorges can hit dizzying levels - well in excess of 100F.

I won't go into too much detail about the history, but it started originally when Gordon Ainsleigh turned up to the 100 mile Tevis Cup Trail Ride in 1974 without a horse and said he'd run it instead. Completing it in just under 24 hours, he set the standard for the whole 100 mile running craze so now many races offer special belt buckles for finishes in less than a day. The silver 24 hour Western States buckle is one of the most prized targets for ultrarunners, although as long as you finish in under the final cut-off of 30 hours, you still get a bronze buckle.

I'd digested all the mystique of the race over the past few years and when I arrived in Tahoe a week before the race to acclimatise, I was more excited and nervous than I've been since I did my first ultra at London to Brighton. As I mentioned in my last posting, this sheen had worn off in the few days before the race due to the race taking itself too seriously. I stated that I thought the race was overhyped and took itself too seriously for what is essentially an amateur sport (no prize money at WS, although this year there was a $2,000 incentive for a new course record announced about a day before the race).

I hoped that the race would live up to its billing. So does it? Well, it definitely didn't disappoint by being too easy. But it wasn't quite as polished as I'd expect from such a prestigious event, as I'll explain below.

After a weigh-in and general registration on the Friday, I turned up around 4am on race Saturday for the race bib collection. Amy would be my only crew and I owe her massively for putting up with a week's holiday just for this race and for one of the longest days of both of our lives. Mind you, a holiday at Lake Tahoe isn't too much of a chore...

Sunrise was due around 5:30am and the race started at 5am. There was a huge amount of nervous energy buzzing around the runners and their families and friends, especially the newbies to the race. Although there were 24 aid stations along the course, most weren't accessible to supporters and crews since it goes through very remote areas.

Amy would be following the organiser's suggested path, especially as she's on her own and didn't want to get lost or have to do too much hiking to aid stations. That meant just seeing me at Robinson Flat (29.7 miles), Michigan Bluff (55.7 miles), Foresthill (62.0 miles), Green Gate (79.8 miles), Highway 49 Crossing (93.5 miles) and the finish at Placer High School (100.2 miles). The gaps between seeing her would be huge, with the first time being well over four hours in. And if things went to hell, she could be waiting a long time at each aid station. Obviously we went through the logistics before and set estimated parameters of when I'd get to each point.

Although it was my first proper 100 miler (Rocky Raccoon on an injury as a planned training run for this doesn't count as I shouldn't have even started that race), I saw no reason why I couldn't finish near the front if I ran a conservative race and so vaguely aimed for 16h40m, or 10 minute miling. Last year that would have been 2nd, but in this year's field I expected it to be more like top five (and I would have been spot on - that time would have been 5th).

I knew that my Comrades time included a 5:24 50 miles to finish the race over hills bigger than the faster US trail 50 milers, so that should make fast 100 mile times possible as long as the climbs don't waste me. I'd not done enough hill training, especially compared to the mountain-dwelling top guys although the hilly Miwok 100k felt good as a training jog, but WS is known for being very runnable so I had a sensible plan to jog through the harder first 62 miles then speed up a bit over the last 38 miles which were over easier terrain. Fellow Bend resident (while I lived there) and 100-mile specialist, Jeff Browning, gave me that useful tip and I think it's excellent advice as long as you're well enough trained for endurance.

This target probably sounds very cocky to any ultra veterans for someone doing their first 100, but I had enough results recently to have confidence that I could keep to that pace easily for the first 100k and the course kind of gets easier after that. I expected it to be the hardest race of my life, although in a very different way to Comrades, which was an all-out speed-fest. It would be more of a grind than keeping a high intensity level for a long period, but most of my recent ultras have been negative splits so it was worth a go.

THE RACE

Back to the pre-dawn darkness and I eventually lined up with the other runners as the clock ticked down to zero hour. I was stood next to the super-fast mountain lunatic Spaniard, Kilian Journet, who most people didn't seem to recognise. So I took a few photos and set my camera to take a video of the start. I had two watches on due to the Garmin battery only being good for around 10 hours, but I still wanted it to give me altitude readings through the mountains and canyons. As the gun went off, I tried to simultaneously hold my camera up and start both watches, but only managed to trip over some safety cones around the start line and start both watches late as I fumbled in the darkness to find the correct settings over the first quarter of a mile.

The camera was a useful pacing tool, forcing me to ignore the leaders and start off very gently, taking photos all the way up the four mile, 2,500ft climb to Emigrant's Pass at 8,750ft. I'm glad I took it easy, both to avoid wasting energy so early in the race and to enjoy the views as the sun rose over Lake Tahoe and the mist in Squaw Valley. Never before in a race have I planned to walk within a quarter of a mile, but it's a steep start and climbs are definitely my weakness so I power walked most of that climb, getting through quicker than I'd hoped and reaching the top in 53 minutes.

This year the course had been altered from miles nine to 23 due to heavy snow over that section of the course making it impossible to get the Lyons Ridge and Red Star Ridge aid stations in. Instead, we followed a lower course along a lake but still the same distance. This section was supposedly much easier and faster, but this was counteracted by around nine miles of snow-covered trails which would normally have been faster and easier. I'd done a total of 30 minutes of snow training in the preceding months and slipped around a lot, enjoying the camber about as much as I enjoyed running on the soft sand dunes at the Marathon des Sables. Admittedly, the snow did give better scenery and it was spectacular to see the forests and mountains when I was able to look up without sliding around.

About five miles in I tried to pass someone and slid down on to rocks and ice to knock my left knee and graze it. Not the ideal start but it uninjured apart from the cut so I hoped it wouldn't become a throbbing pain after another 95 miles (it didn't). However, it did look relatively hardcore when I ran into the next aid station with blood streaming down my leg thanks to my heart pumping harder as I ran.

After the first snow section we went below 7,000ft and it became very easy to run. Almost too easy and I had to hold myself back from running comfy six minute miles downhill as that would have been a bad idea. I was chatting to Devon Crosby-Helms on this relaxing downhill, one of the women's favourites, and let her speed off at around 6:15s thinking she would regret that pace later (she did drop around halfway so maybe that came back to bite her).

Soon I'd got well into the race and was leaving the pretty, snow-course lake views (not sure what lake it was) to climb up to Duncan Canyon aid station and get back on the normal course at 23.8 miles in 3h38m. At this point I was way back in the field, in 36th, but was dead on my planned splits and felt very good. On the climb up I passed a few people and kept to my other major tactic at the aid station - to eat and drink plenty by taking my time.

The day was heating up but was still cool enough for me to keep my gloves on. There were several stream crossings, including one with a rope to stop people being swept away. The race is known for the Rucky Chucky crossing of the American River at 78 miles which involves a rope but I hadn't expected so many times where my feet (and up to the knee) would get wet - there were maybe 10 of these. I'd guess there was more water flowing than usual due to the late snow melt and this was very obvious in the waterfalls around Lake Tahoe, especially Eagle Falls which I visited in the preceding week.

There was a decent climb up to the first major aid station for supporters at Robinson Flat at 29.7 miles and we got into the snow again. Many of the aid station during the day had medics and scales to make sure anyone with hydration or salt-related issues (in particular) could be helped or even pulled from the race. I think this aid station was about the 2nd time I was weighed, but all was fine since I was still spot on 149 pounds like when I started. A gain (too much drinking or lack of absorption of liquids) or loss (the opposite) of more than 3% would get them worried and potentially hold me back until I got back to somewhere close to normal again.

As I popped out the aid station, Amy was waiting for me with a change of T-shirt (pointless in hindsight since the new one was wet by the next aid station as I threw water over myself to keep cool) and to take the camera plus my excess clothing from the colder and higher early section. She gave me more gels and food then I got going again. I thought it was a downhill straight after Robinson so was annoyed to find it kept climbing for a mile (note to self: I really should memorise the course profile better in future). That meant it stayed snow-packed until the course eventually went down again and gave great views into the lower sections of the Tahoe Forest.

As I wouldn't see Amy again until 55.7 miles, I suspected I'd be less fresh and perky so I'd told her not to worry if I looked rough, especially as the hardest part of the course is the oven caused by the canyons from Last Chance aid station at 43.3 miles to Foresthill at 62.0 miles. But from around 31 miles to Last Chance is mainly downhill and easy, wider trails. I was cruising and enjoying the chance to go a little quicker without expending much energy at all. I even saw Sean Meissner (another Bend area ultrarunner) who was there to pace a female Montrail team mate of his and it was encouraging to have him tell me I was looking strong. However, if my forced slow pace and mere 38 miles of running had tired me out, I hate to think how long I'd have been out for.

I was making sure I stayed on top of hydration and took Nuun tablets with all my water in my backpack. So much so that I gained a little weight and had a high of around 150.5 pounds as I went through the canyons. First was the steepest, with a long, zig-zagging path down then a sharp, 1,500ft climb up Devil's Thumb. I had a good power walk going and passed a few people to get to 17th by the aid station there at 47.8 miles, not feeling the heat at all.

A brief mile later and I went down an even longer drop to Eldorado Creek at 52.9 miles, which I'd heard is the point where a lot of people drop due to the heat and the nasty 1,800ft climb to the next aid station. I was 88F on the thermometer in the shaded aid station but I still felt absolutely fine. No issues from tired/sore legs, no problems with the heat and no problems with hydration or my salt balance and I'd got past half way, so all looked rosy. But, I've done plenty of races that long, hot or steep so I hadn't yet reached the unknown of distance and time where I couldn't be sure how my body would react.

The climb to Michigan Bluff was longer and higher but less steep than the one to Devil's Thumb so I was able to jog sections of it and get myself to the next point where I'd see Amy. After 9h17m she got to see me for the second time, after some driving time but mainly a lot of waiting round (I knew there was a reason I'm marrying her). I got more supplies and filled myself up at the aid station on food and drink, trying to get as variety of food to cover as many vitamins and salts as possible.

Then I jogged off to go through the last, smaller, canyon and back up to Foresthill at 62.0 miles. Again, I was happy to feel completely fine and to get to see Amy again relatively soon. I was weighed in then stocked up before doing my one change of socks and shoes. Since the harder, slippery and wet trails were behind me, I opted for road shoes and knee-high compression socks. These would hopefully keep my calves feeling better as well as protecting me from the poison oak in the last 20 miles of the race.

After a mile of running I realised that I'd taken off my timing chip when changing my kit but forgotten to put it back on. Amy would probably have driven off and I didn't want to run back up the road anyway. Instead I decided not to stress about it and to make sure I informed every aid station as I went through. I'd see Amy again in 18 miles and even if she didn't have it then, she could give it back to me at 93.5 miles so I'd have it at the end. It seemed to be ok as there weren't any timing mats and this proved to be the case - the only timing mat was at the finish. Yet, I couldn't help worrying slightly that I'd be disqualified or that people wouldn't believe that I'd not cheated. Not much I could do except keep running, so that what I did. Besides, I soon had a lot more to worry about, but I'll have to put that in a separate post as I need a rest.