My excitement for this race really began a year ago when I had the privilege of sharing pacing/crewing duties for Ed Willson and watching him earn his silver buckle. I was hooked on the beautiful scenery, the camaraderie, the drama, and most importantly, the repeated display of the indomitable human spirit. I was fortunate enough to qualify with a 100k last August, and have my name drawn at the Western States 100 Mile lottery.

I had excellent training all the way up to the event. On race morning I was excited at the opportunity to run all the way from Squaw Valley to Auburn, looking forward to seeing the race unfold, wondering how hot it would be and how my body would handle it. The only sadness I felt was for my mentor and friend Craig Thornley, who had to sit this one out. There would be no room for complaining today, as I knew that anyone who had trained hard and either DNS’d or DNF’d would trade places with me in heartbeat if they could.

My race plan was to run relaxed in the high country (up to mile 43) to the canyons, let myself fly down in the canyons, hike out conservatively (miles 43-62), try to have some ‘race’ left in me from Foresthill to the river (miles 62-78), not deteriorate badly to the highway crossing (miles 78-93), and have some run left in me for the last 7 miles.

At 0500 the gun went off. I hiked most of the 3.5 miles to the highest point of the day (8700) with occasional jogging when the grade allowed. I refilled my hydration pack at the first aid station near the top, grabbed a few pretzels, and entered onto a wide snowfield. I tried hiking across, but kept sinking in, so played skitter bug instead and lightly jogged across the top. One more very steep climb to the summit, and I was ready to run. I relaxed my legs and let gravity pull me forward. The trail was downhill mostly, with undulations and snow banks to navigate, as well as many cold streams filling the trail. The air temperature was comfortable, but a hand or knee into the snow was more than chilling. I had no idea where in the field of runners I was, nor did I care. The landscape was rocky, brushy, snowy, and thinly treed. Spirits were high. I recognized and passed Luanne Park, who sadly had to drop later. At the next aid station I had my pack refilled with Gu2

o, ate

half a peanut butter sandwich, and stretch my legs. We continued on in the high country, with awesome views all around. I never took my eyes far from the trail in an effort to remain upright for as long as possible, but the few ganders to the distance I took were breathtaking. We were in the middle of indescribable beauty.

Physically I was feeling okay, but the effects of the altitude were noticeable. I was looking forward to getting down a more breathable level. The next aid station I grabbed some Ritz crackers, had my pack filled and hiked out. The crackers turned to dust in my mouth and seemed a liability, but I washed them down best I could. My abdominal muscles were cramping a bit, so I took a Lava salt, which seemed effective. I ran steadily on, looking forward to the next aid station where I would have crew to tend to me.

The dust was making its way into my nose, so I tried to relieve it with a good blast and gave myself a nosebleed. Anticipating this might happen, I was ready with the hankie. This kept me a little too busy, trying to run downhill, stay upright, drink, and plug up the blood. I arrived at Duncan Canyon aid station to my crew of Ed and Dana, who were all over me with a new hydration pack, watermelon, sandwich (I ate ¼), and a neck cooler. They gave me a hand-held bottle with ice water for dousing, as the temperatures were starting to rise. I left the aid station with too much to do – still trying to stop the nosebleed, cool myself with the water, drink from the pack, and the neck cooler was bouncing uncomfortably. I was getting a blister on the ball of my foot, and made my first real error, which was to convince myself it probably wasn’t going to be a problem.

I was on the heels of Tim and Diana Fitzpatrick, who I had trained with on Memorial Day, and it was nice to be in the company of runners I knew. We arrived at Duncan Creek, which I would normally have welcomed, but the blister was bad enough that getting it wet made it more painful upon walking. I continued to ignore it. Diana remained in the creek, while I followed Tim for awhile. He beckoned her to come, but she was pretty happy cooling off. I was soon dropped, but staying relaxed, and looking forward to Robinson Flat, where the other half of my crew awaited.

At Robinson Flat, Craig was on the sideline encouraging me and letting me know which direction to go and that my crew was ready for me. I ran into a very exciting scene of spectators, into the aid station where I was to weigh in for the first time since the race began. My weight was up 1 lb from the 119 initial weight, so I felt I was covering the fluids and salt adequately. I dipped my hat in ice water, ran out the end of the aid station to Brian and Jeff, who ran me to the crew stop. I had a fantastic bunch here – both crew for me and for Chris Thornley, so I got the royal treatment. In hindsight, I should have enjoyed it a little longer. I ate about 2 bites of beans, drank a frappacino, took off the long sleeve shirt, and continued on.

The next section is a very exposed burned-out section, which was heating up already. It was runnable switch backs followed by a long easy running section to Miller’s defeat. I was still feeling pretty good except for the altitude, ate some watermelon and potato chips, filled my pack and water bottle, and headed for the next aid station, Dusty Corners, where Ed and Dana would crew me again. This was a relatively easy section, but I was feeling a bit tired and tried to psych myself up for eating. The air was so dry that the thought of chewing and swallowing were a bit off-putting, but I was determined to try. The downhill was exasperating my blisters. When I finally arrived, Ed threw a wet towel over my head and shoulders, and Dana put ice packs in my armpits and the front of my shorts. It was awesome to feel cooler. I drank a frappacino, ate some melon, and put a sandwich in my waist pack. Dana put a fresh hydration pack on me, wetted my neck kerchief, and with a fr

esh bo

ttle of ice water, I was on my way to Pucker Point trail.

This trail is beautiful and pretty easy terrain. Our altitude was more manageable, but I didn’t feel good here. I kept drinking, dousing, and running. I was fairly isolated in this section, but would occasionally pass or be passed. All words were encouraging. I came to an exposed section and was passed by a slip of a woman in a puffy sleeved blouse and head amply protected from the sun. It turned out to be Kathy D’Onofrio, past champion from years ago. She and I entered Last Chance aid station where we weighed in for the second time. This time, my weight was up 4 lbs from the start. The woman tending me asked how much salt I had taken, and I told her I had about 4 caps, she insisted I wasn’t getting enough salt. She wanted me to take 2 per hour. I was reticent, so drank some salty broth, and slowly started up again. I managed to pee soon, but not a lot.

I hit the first of the really fun downhill sections down into Deadwood Canyon. I stayed relaxed, but the blister was now blisters, and now on both feet. It caused me to put the brakes on while going down, rather than floating and the discomfort kept it from being quite the joyous occasion I had planned on. I was passed by ‘smiley face’ Ken and we struck up a conversation about the race and people we knew in common, and ended up sharing a sit down in a stream to cool off after we crossed the swinging bridge. I took out my sandwich half, and managed to choke down some of it. Then it was time to head up the steepest climb of the day to Devil’s Thumb. Kathy D’Onofrio was right behind me at first, but I yielded to her, and watched in awe as she seemingly floated with little jogging steps, soon out of site. Ken also disappeared, and I could only muster up a walk that was void of power. I felt nauseous and wanted to trade my good leg for Craig’s bad leg, since I was sure he

would

have handled this day much better than I was.

When I finally reached the top, the aid station personal grabbed my hydration pack and waist pack and I stepped on the scale, to find I was now 5 lbs over. Another woman queried me on my salt intake, and I said I had taken about 5 tablets total, and she was convinced as well that it wasn’t enough. She had me drink 4 cups of broth, I was sponged down, ate some melon, and then they let me go. Whether it was salt, or needing the calories, I don’t know, but I felt measurably better at this point, and except for the blisters, was able to run comfortably and hike strong all the way to Michigan Bluff. I was *only* 2 hours behind my predicted time, but with the heat, I don’t think many were ahead of schedule, let alone, on time. I weighed in again, now back to 4 lbs over. I drank more soup, a frappacino, got a fresh pack, and with new strength, headed up to Volcano Canyon. We were getting a cloud cover, and I was feeling pretty good and able to run most of the way to the canyo

n. Th

e trail down the canyon is very rocky, and my blisters were not happy. I decided (way too late) that I would tend to my blisters at Foresthill. I waded through the creek, but the pain in my feet on the climb out made me decide for sure that I wouldn’t be getting my feet wet again if possible.

My first pacer, Theresa, was waiting for me at Bath Road with a protein drink. I managed almost all of it, and was still feeling strong. We got to the top, and ran into Foresthill to a very exciting atmosphere. I went to the med-tent, took off my shoes and wet socks to very white, shriveled, feet. Iodine (ouch!) was applied to one blister, and a compeed stuck on. I put on fresh socks, laced up, ate more soup, and scooted out to my crew. Grabbed a pack with half strength accelerade and my lights, and Theresa and I were on our way to the river. At this point I was 7th place female, and while I wanted to be able to race at this point, I needed to last for almost 40 more miles.

The first 2 aid stations on the way to the river, I still had light. I repassed Kathy on a steep downhill. Her back goes out on her if she runs steep downs, so she was doing what she had to in order to survive. Theresa kept me going well, and took good care of me in each aid station, helping me remember what I wanted (mostly coke and gel), and keeping me on task. After Cal 2, we had some sweet downhill running that was okay on my feet as long as there were no rocks, and I took the turns slowly. Finally, the sun was down, and it was time for the flashlights. I ran less and less as the rocks became more plentiful, and I was worried about stepping on them. We exchanged places with a few runners, back and forth, through Cal 3, and finally to the river! I weighed in again at 123, and was glad that at least I wasn’t gaining anymore. Ed yelled loud from the other side, and after a joyous sit-down in the raft, 2 cups of awesome potato soup, a frappacino, my new pacer Brian, E

d, and

I powered up the hill to Greengate. Once there, Brian and I began the trek to Highway 49. Right away, we were confronted with rocky trail, and I was not navigating well at all – my feet hurt too much to dance down the trails, but I could hike strong up hills. That was the game all the way to the finish for me. I kept drinking and gelling, and started peeing like a pregnant lady. Every 15 minutes I would yell ‘gotta pee!’ and flooded the trail. It seems I was finally losing some of the retained water. Brian pulled and pushed to Auburn Lake Trails station where I drank some sprite and ate a gel, then we were out of there. The trail here was pretty nice – flattish, not so rocky, and we made our way to Brown’s Bar, where I had more potato soup, tended to a burn on my leg, and encountered another long steep rocky trail that I would normally have some fun with. We were down along the river again, and I had been thinking that if the Fitzpatricks had played their cards righ

t, I w

ouldn’t be surprised at all to see them sail by me at any moment. Sure enough, Diana came scooting by, back from the dead, and would end up passing more women for 5th place overall.

The hike from the river to highway 49 was longer than I remembered. Every time I looked up the trail, I could still see a runner’s light higher than us. Finally they crested, and my step was a bit livelier. My number was yelled out, and I heard Dana yell ‘Marco’ to which I responded ‘Polo’, and we were finally there. I weighed in again, at 123, so again, not gaining, and still drinking. I traded old lights for new, a fresh pack, and my final pacer, Jeff. On our way out, he immediately asked what my strengths were, and I told him I could hike hard, run okay on smooth ground, but the rocks were eating me up. We hiked out a technical section while he told me about seeing the finish of the men’s race. We reached the meadow, and I was able to ease into the running. Most of this section involved rocky trail, so I was reduced to Chaplin-esque style of running/walking. Not exactly pretty. Soon we were passed by a Vasque woman, and I told Jeff I would stay with her if I cou

ld, bu

t there was nothing runnable right there. We picked our way to No Hands Bridge, and finally, the ground was smooth. I ran across the bridge, and Jeff kept me running along the smooth trail on the other side, getting me to pass a runner, which encouraged them to keep it going. We hiked hard up the hill, and he was privy to my funny running-tired sounds, that had started about 5 miles before. Squeaks, I guess. Finally, we emerged at Robie Point. I started jogging up the hill, while Jeff ate pizza, (I must have been really cruising), and a lone figure in the dark awaited us – it was Brian, come to run us in. We jogged/walked for the final climb, and then it was stretching out to something that felt like running downhill to the track. I choked up as I stepped onto the track, then was elated at feeling of cruising around to the finish, in 23:20, 8th woman. A quick weigh-in showed I had finally lost all of the water and was down to my original weight. This will take some

debat

e to figure out completely. Two days later, my blisters are improving, but still sore. And I feel a little loopy.

I am fortunate to have such great friends and family to share this with, and look forward to crewing and pacing for each of them soon. I can’t wait for WS07!

Meghan