Western States 100 Report

It’s difficult to capture everything that went on over there on paper but I will endeavour to report on what was for me one of my most rewarding races to date.

It all started back in 2005 when Whippet mentioned how great it would be if we all got together and ran Western States in 2007, an Aussie Assault of sorts. I remember thinking “yeah that would be cool but unlikely given the expense”. I figured we’d get maybe half a dozen starters at best. How wrong I was. On the morning of the 23rd of June 2007, 19 from 21 Aussie entrants lined up. It was amazing to see the escalation in interest over the proceeding months. To run Western States which to quote “is the Boston of 100 milers” and the most prestigious 100-mile trail run in the States would be a dream come true.



The Team

After entering, I guess it was around mid January when I decided to step up the effort and put in a few months of dedicated training. I decided to focus on higher mileage mostly, with little if any speedwork. This would include lots of hills and more specifically long bush runs in the Blue Mountains. I ran a total of 420kms in January with 3 good quality long runs on trails and lots of up and down. February was similar, again the focus on hilly trail runs. I did throw a taper in for 6FT where I wanted to run well and in doing so only ran a total of 320 kms. March was another good month with 420 kms of running and a very pleasing PB run at the Six Foot Track.
April saw a further increase in mileage topping out at 541kms. I was running at least marathon distance trail runs most weekends including a couple of fantastic fatass runs in the Blue Mountains and this I believe helped improve my aerobic base a lot. May would be my biggest month with 580kms. This included two of my favourite runs in preparation for a 100 miler, namely the Poorman’s Comrades 96km and the “Rebel 12FT Track”-90km. A surprising PB at the Sydney Morning Herald Half did my confidence the world of good. Apparently the long miles hadn’t affected what little speed I had too much.
I was running regular 130-140km weeks with a couple of 100 mile weeks in there too. I felt the bulk training was done and a long taper would see me fit and ready to go come the 23rd June. The only other thing to add was the “small” amount of thermal training I did in the lead up weeks. I took John Lindsay’s advice from his WS run last year and ran in layers most mornings trying to ready the body for the possibility of oppressive heat in the canyons of the Sierra Nevada’s. I was ready!

Fortunately for me I worked my trip around a work junket that saw me arrive in the US almost two weeks before the race. I spent a busy week in New York City before heading off to the beautiful bay side city of San Francisco for a few days where I would catch up with Team Mellum and a few of the other Aussie Assaulters.

I was hoping for hot weather in the Bay area however this didn’t transpire. Instead it was cool in the low 20Cs and a breeze blowing into the bay that would chill you to the bone sometimes. I managed to get a few shorter runs in, during the two weeks leading up to the run and was feeling very fresh after a long 4 week taper.

Whilst in San Francisco we took the opportunity to catch up with the lovely Phil and Carol who frequently visit and run the Glasshouse Trails and more recently the Coast to Kosi run here in Australia. We enjoyed dinner at their place a couple of times with the best salad around and had heaps of fun one night when we all attempted to play the didgeridoo. Paul Every and Diane were there too, adding to a memorable night with lots of laughs and even some free trail shoes from Carol, who btw has the biggest selection of footwear I’ve ever seen! We also spent a lot of time and money at the REI stores in SF, where it was like walking into gear heaven. J

Andy, Tim, Vegie and I hopped in our hire car and made for the mountains on the Tuesday of race week. We arrived in Truckee early afternoon where finally it was hot.
We spent the week catching up with the rest of the team, attending various pre race talks and of course the Western States shop where we picked up some nice running gear. The Holiday Inn at Truckee was fantastic, a great suggestion from Brendan.

I was all burritoed out come race day and was dying for a good feed of fruit and veggies. In fact my diet was pretty crap in the two weeks leading up to the race. I did enjoy the “Fat Tire” and “Sierra Nevada” beers though, which washed the saturated fat down quite well.

Race day dawned to what would be a “cooler” day than normal with temps reaching the low to mid 30s at most in the canyons compared to low 40s the year before. As it transpired we had chosen an excellent year to run, conditions wise. We were assured the trail had been cleared of all fallen trees and even graded in parts, so no excuses on race day.
The start is something I will never forget. The buzz at registration, with everyone milling about was electric. There was the photo opportunity under the start banner with the climb up the escarpment in the background. Western State legends Gordy Ainsleigh and Cowman Shirk were there and then finally the count down. As soon as the clock hits 10s the chant goes up and everyone joins in. The shotgun goes off and finally after months of training and preparation we are on our way. Our Western States journey, which began the day we lodged our entries 9-10 months ago, is now finally hitting its crescendo.



10 minutes before the start



We’re off!





The climb up the Escarpment to Emigrants Pass

The first 4.5 miles climbs from 6200’ to 8700’ the highest elevation of the course at Emigrant Pass. The plan here is to power walk the ups and trot out the flatter sections of which there are only a few. I ran/walked with Paul Every and Blue Dog pretty much to the top where we were greeted by a head wind that was blowing up from the other side of the mountain. It was chilly enough to leave my “disposable” layer on a while longer.

The view at the top back out over Lake Tahoe was spectacular, with the rising sun in the background. I had imagined this moment so many times.



What a view from the top!

We ran into the Emigrant Pass checkpoint, I had my handheld quickly refilled.
I chose to carry my camelbak Lobo for water and use a handheld for electrolyte. This worked well throughout the day with my weight never wavering more than a pound all day.
The trail levels out now and then undulates along single-track toward the second checkpoint at Lyon Ridge. There are numerous streams and muddy patches to negotiate making for wet feet early on. Single file running through here but once in a group with similar cruising speed it was all-good. It was somewhere around here that it really hit me; man we were running on the Western States trail! Looking around at the country we were running through, I felt extremely lucky. We followed a ridge for 6 miles or so where we were allowed spectacular views of the vistas below. I was thrilled, such a relief, finally getting out there and doing it. All the months of preparation and training, now was the time to see if it would all pay off.

I was carrying the splits I ripped out of the participants guide for 24hr pace. Each checkpoint had a time of day indicating 24hr pace. I didn’t bother with a stopwatch instead just a regular watch showing time of day would suffice. Each time I reached an aid station there was a laminated sheet with expected arrival times for 24 and 30hr pace. Too easy! As long as I stayed ahead of 24hr times with a buffer I was happy.
Pulling into Lyon Ridge (10.5 miles) I decided to drop the long sleeve top and have my camelbak refilled. However, the volunteer there didn’t screw the cap on tightly enough and water pissed out all over my back as I left the CP. I stopped to re-tighten. As I did so, quite a few runners passed me. The next section to Red Star Ridge (16 miles) was meant to be very dusty according to pre-race advice. I carried a bandana around my neck, which would act as a mask for the dust through this section as did most runners.



Cougar Rock

The scent of the pine trees was beautiful running along the range here, the tree line reaching dizzy heights compared to the lowly Australian gum. Magic stuff!

It’s hard to remember exact details, but I recall Blue Dog heading off into the distance here as I pulled away from Paul and Sportsman. Nic Moloney was right behind me, both of us enjoying the gentler descents to Red Star. The altitude was definitely having an affect on me as I sucked in the big ones trying to stay aerobic. I tried not to get pulled along too quickly so slowed a little to reduce the aerobic effort.

Red Star Ridge is the first big checkpoint 16 miles in, with a few runners picking up drop bags. I quickly refilled and got out of there.



Dusty Trails to Red Star Ridge


The next section along the fire ravaged Duncan Canyon was terrific. This signalled the first real descent of the trail and with unobstructed views across the canyon, a result of the 2001 fires, a greater appreciation for the terrain we were crossing was afforded. My plan was to try and roll down the descents as much as possible. That meant no hard running rather just let gravity do its thing and try to minimise the braking effort involved saving the quads for later. With a total of 6000mtrs ascent and another 7000mtrs descent there was no need to smash yourself up this early on.



On the way to Duncan Canyon

The aid station at Duncan Canyon is actually along the ridgeline and not at the bottom of the canyon where I had imagined it would be. It was nice to get some refreshment there and to begin a strategy for keeping cool by pouring cold water over my head and sponging myself down at every opportunity. My plan was to make it back up to Robinson Flat (30 miles) still under 24hr pace and take the opportunity to change my socks and reapply some bodyglide. It was 9.40am and I was 15 minutes ahead of 24hr pace.

The climb out the other side of Duncan Canyon was beautiful. It rose quite steeply along soft trail, at times the pitch quite difficult. I could see a stream of runners ahead, and an Aussie Assault top, couldn’t recognise who it was though. The dust from the trail thus far had made its way into my shoes despite wearing gaiters and I felt some hot spots forming on my toes. Just as well Robinson Flat wasn’t too far ahead.

The aid stations are incredible in this race. I pulled into Robinson Flat to a wonderful reception from the crowd gathered there. Unbelievable, you felt like a rock star with the warm welcome. The aid station volunteers (1500 in total for 400 runners on the trail) were lining up to assist you. Each time I had a dedicated volunteer take my camelbak and bottle and refill them. I would then proceed to the food tables and select from a smorgasbord of choices.



Sample smorgasbord

First up a weight check. I was 148lbs at the start and managed to put one pound on here. My drop bag was also made available upon entering the checkpoint, so after a quick bite to eat I sat down to change socks. A lady offered to wash my feet down after I pulled my shoes off and I gladly accepted. Fantastic service, I reapplied some bodyglide, slipped on a fresh pair of socks, tied up my shoes and got up to go. As I left I noticed Paul Every and Nic Maloney pulling into the CP. Time invested I thought, I know from my Coast to Kosi experience how blistered feet can quickly stop you in your tracks. I was still 15 mins ahead of 24hr pace. The lift I got whilst leaving the aid station was awesome. The Aussie Assault cheer squad were there too, Vegie Girl and Di with Vegie walking a bit with me checking how I was going. The crowd were fantastic giving every runner a rousing cheer. I soaked it up, as it would be a long time before we would see the amount of people that had gathered at the easily accessible Robinson Flat CP again.

My feet felt better immediately and I picked up the pace once more on the descent to the next aid station at Miller’s Defeat (34.4m). The trail widened noticeably and for the first time I started to really enjoy my running, the drop in altitude no doubt making for a better experience. The kms rolled by and at one stage I found myself slotted in just behind another runner who was tapping out the perfect pace. I introduced myself and told him he was setting the perfect tempo for me. Thus started a nice partnership that would last until the climb up Devil’s Thumb and beyond, some 15 miles later.
My newfound partner’s name was Rob Byrne who was hoping to tick off his 10th silver buckle sub 24hr run at WS. I figured I was in good company. I spoke about trails in Australia and he mentioned a good friend of his, namely Carol La Plant, who regularly competed at the Glasshouse 100. Small world hey, I explained we all knew Carol and Phil well. I asked him if he thought we were moving along ok for a sub 24 finish. He replied, “if we keep going at the pace we were moving at we have nothing to worry about”.

Millers Defeat and Dusty Corners aid stations came and went. I didn’t spend a lot of time there at all. I had my bottles refilled, grabbed a handful of fruit, thanked the volunteers and left. I was living off fruit mainly with the odd “toasted” peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I say toasted because they were sitting in the sun going hard, making for a dry meal. Still this was working for me and my energy levels never really fluctuated through the day. I did recall looking at the split at Millers Defeat (34.4m) where to my surprise I was only 5 minutes in front of 24hr pace only to find I had picked up an additional 25 mins at Dusty Corners (38m) putting me back at 30 minutes ahead?



On route to Millers Defeat
Image courtesy of Glenn Tachiyama.

I was in a positive frame of mind with the body holding up well but I knew the canyons lay ahead and it was going to get warmer. Up till now I was not really feeling the heat, it was not as hot as last year and the dry heat is so different to a humid Aussie day. I wore a legionnaire style hat for the first time and this helped a lot too.

The course descended into Deep Canyon, one of the less dramatic “dips”, and then after a short climb out, a nice long descent to the next milestone at Last Chance.

Upon reflection I found the first 30 miles in the high country difficult particularly if you are suffering from the altitude. However the next 14-mile stretch from Robinson Flat to Last Chance is very runnable allowing you sufficient time to recover and get the calories and fluids in to prepare you for the canyons. I was still trading places with Rob and we were keeping each other honest.

The Last Chance aid station was simply wonderful. I already knew the Stevens Creek Striders would be there with ex-pat Penny Beaston and co. welcoming the Aussie Assault. In fact there was a flag up across the trail doing just that, fantastic! Upon arrival I was welcomed, had my bottles refilled, refuelled, had photos taken, was pampered and generally fed off the energy there. They insisted I cool down here before the drop to Deadwood, it was our “last chance”. So into the sponge bath I went. It was just like going through a car wash, constantly moving coming out the other side refreshed and clean, raring to go. This was by far the best aid station of the day! Thank you Stevens Creek Striders!



Stevens Creek Last Chance AS with Aussie welcome flag.

As I left I was told I was the fifth Australian to arrive. I was surprised by this, not really having any idea where I was placed. A check of the watch, I was still 15 minutes ahead of 24hr pace.



Happy and refreshed at Last Chance

I soon caught up to my pacing buddy Rob and we stayed together for the drop into the canyon. I was looking forward to the canyons, not fearing them. The temp was probably hovering around the low 30s but I was feeling fine. Rob kept me entertained with trail tales and some history of Western States. The drop was not as severe as I imagined it would be with plenty of switchbacks to relieve the gradient. The trail was beautiful underfoot and in no time we could hear the river below.

This was a significant point in the race well at least for me. The swinging bridge at the bottom that crosses the middle fork of the American River signifies the first of three big climbs. This one with a total of 36 switchbacks winds its way up to the Devil’s Thumb aid station. If I can get through the canyons and the heat of the day in one piece I will have something left for the final third I thought. Some runners choose to stop here at the river and wade in to cool down. Alternatively you can follow the trail up the hill for a bit where off to the right there is a small spring. I did the latter, stopping to douse my bandana under the flowing water, just beautiful.
Rob was strong on the climb and pulled away from me. I tried to stay in touch but he was too fast. I pulled up alongside another runner of Asian descent (running his 10th WS and also looking for 10 sub 24hr finishes). We started chatting and when he noticed the Aussie flag I had tattooed to my calf he mentioned running “down under” in ‘96. He said he ran a “fatass” run organised by Kevin Tiller. He ran with Kevin and Jonathon Worswick! Small world, I couldn’t believe it!
There were some volunteers just ahead who informed us “not too far to go” and mentioned popsicles at the aid station, perfect just what I needed.
As I approached the top of Devil’s Thumb a runner just ahead pointed out the landmark that gave it its name just off to the left, a rocky outcrop jutting up from the escarpment in the shape of a thumb. I smiled remembering Brendan’s recon here a few months back when he pointed it out too.



Devil’s Thumb Aid Station

The aid station was a buzz. Again my own volunteer, dedicated to my needs. How good was this. He went away to refill my camelbak while I weighed in, again one pound over, nice. I quickly made for the food tables. The climb did hurt but I was still feeling strong. I ate heaps of fruit and then went looking for popsicles. Grabbed a couple of cups filled with Gu20 and left. Devils Thumb 47.8 mile in, almost half way and I still have 30 minutes on 24hr pace.

Next up in the canyon trilogy is El Dorado. Reputed to be less severe and longer, in fact the longest descent of the day, five miles of downhill losing almost 2000 feet from Devil’s Thumb, with a good climb out the other side. Before we began the drop we passed a collection of rusting reminders of the Gold Rush era, a “cemetery of machines” as Rob put it. Interesting, as if time stood still. I wondered what it must have been like back then as I studied the rotting equipment. A few minutes later Rob took a spill and ushered me past, I was handling the downhills better than he was so once past him I made good time to the bottom. The quads were starting to complain however and I needed to reel it in a little and save some for later. It was quite overwhelming at times being able to see where you’ve come down from and more importantly what lay ahead. For every down there was an up. The imposing climb up the mountain on the other side of the creek was daunting. I joined a few runners in a conga line as we twisted and turned our way to the bottom.

El Dorado Creek aid station came and went, again I didn’t hang around too long and to be frank don’t remember much about it. I just wanted to get up the other side as quickly as I could. I stopped briefly at the creek to wet the bandana again.



Beautiful El Dorado Creek

The walk up to Michigan Bluff (55.7mile) was a lot easier than the preceding climb to Devil’s Thumb. Longer less taxing switchbacks, I got a good power walk happening and passed a few runners. Michigan Bluff is a substantial aid station with crew access and another medical check. I was delighted to see Lis (Vegie Girl) and a few of the Aussie supporters there including Carol and Phil. It was nice having little goals along the way. I was now looking at each checkpoint as the immediate goal and not concentrating too much on the overall distance. Michigan Bluff didn’t disappoint, lots of people milling about, fantastic volunteers once more and of course the Aussie gang there to wish us well. I didn’t stay long, but remember wanting a coffee of all things. There was none, I couldn’t believe it, here I was in the land of the never-ending cup of coffee! Oh well, Gu20 it would have to be instead. I noticed a lot of runners opted to sit down here and tend to foot issues etc. I checked the 24hr pace estimate, I was now 40 minutes ahead.



Coming into Michigan Bluff
Image courtesy of Glenn Tachiyama.

The trail to Volcano creek was steep and I was hoping the quads would hold up after the constant hammering they had been subjected to. I was now alone, with runners more spread out. It was beginning to cool down and I was looking forward to the evening hoping I could push the pace a bit more once out of the canyons. It was along here that I heard a distinct deep purring off to my left down the side of the trail. I ignored it at first but then heard it again. Shit…mountain lion I thought. Well at least it was happy purring away but I wasn’t hanging around to find out. I upped the pace as I recalled reading cougars were more likely to attack solo runners than pairs or groups. It was then that I decided to get a pacer at Foresthill! My original plan was no pacer and no crew but that would change.

I reached the bottom of Volcano Canyon, tended to men’s business off the trail before rejoining the trail climbing up to the Bath Rd aid station. The drop in elevation was noticeable effort wise with more oxygen in the air. I was in a good space, feeling strong, with the canyons almost behind me and definitely enjoying my happiest period of the day. I didn’t linger at Bath Rd either, I just called out my number and ran through and began the long walk up the bitumen stretch to Foresthill.

Foresthill at 62 miles into the race is a major milestone. It’s 100 kms in and the opportunity to pick up a pacer and meet up with crew or family. There was a huge reception as I ran into the aid station. Quite strange, all of a sudden you are in the middle of suburbia after a day in the bush. Lots of people lined the streets, all very appreciative of your efforts. It’s 6.20pm and time for something more substantial than fruit or peanut butter sarnies. After the weigh in (still one pound up) I looked for some hot soup. Chicken noodle or broth was all they had, bummer I was so looking forward to something hot and vegetable based. I did manage to get that long awaited coffee which went down a treat but I was craving something more. I was given my drop bag, retrieved my headlight and tucked it into my camelbak and made for the pacers tent. There were quite a few runners there all lined up waiting to pace someone. Some had runners organised others just turned up on the day to help out. I was introduced to an Asian lady who would be my pacer. We bid the volunteers farewell and left. I had some food in my hand as I strapped my camelbak on and decided to walk the first few hundred metres in an effort to get it down. The whole process at Foresthill took only 2 minutes.

My pacers name was Susanna, an Ironman finisher and would be ultra runner. I asked her what her longest run to date was. She replied 53miles. Cool she should be ok to the finish I thought. We started running again leaving the bitumen behind and heading back into the bush. I felt energised again and now it was just a case of how far could we get before dark. I was thinking as close to the river crossing as possible would be great. We were now running along the California Trail, a rolling descent to the American River crossing at Rucky Chucky some 16 miles away. I tucked in behind my pacer preferring for her to set the pace. I told her to assess how I was going and then try and pull me along a tad faster. We chatted a bit along the very runnable trail. Then all of a sudden she started whooping. Loud whoops like she was cheering at a football game or something! She then went on to explain that this was her way of “receiving energy from the universe”. Giddyup! I thought ok whatever rocks your boat but please not every 5 minutes and out of nowhere, I was trying to enjoy my happy space for as long as I could. The chatting kind of dried up as the gap opened between us. She was moving pretty quickly and I was starting to feel energy depleted due to my less than adequate caloric intake at Foresthill. It was then that I started to play mind games in an effort to stay with her. Every time she whooped I imagined an energy “biscuit” was released ala Pac-Man and was left hovering on the trail until I passed through that point where she let it go. I would gobble it up and be instantly re-energised. My God I was losing my mind when I look back at it now but you know it worked! Every 5 minutes or so I was being “virtually” re-energised but I knew I needed real food and quickly.

The next aid station (Cal 1) was also a let down, with no soup at all but I made do with some more fruit and Gu20. I was amazed I managed to keep going on so few calories. We ambled along into Cal 2 or Peachstone aid station (70.7mile) and again I was disappointed on the soup front. I ate more sandwiches and forced a gu down. My virtual energy cookies were not packing quite as much punch as earlier. Meantime my pacer was eating up a storm and seemed to know everyone both out on the course and at the aid stations.

We continued on to Ford’s Bar, can’t remember much about this AS, we didn’t spend long there though. The next section to the river is wonderful. The trail still undulates along single-track as we switched on our headlamps for the first time. I notice my pacer is only using a flimsy handheld that is throwing off as much light as glowworm; I begin to worry for her safety. Four more miles to the river and at one point I hear the river below. Awesome we must be nearing the crossing I think. However this stretch seems to take an eternity. At one point we bump into a couple of volunteers busy putting out glow sticks along the trail for the night. Surely this signalled an impending aid station, it couldn’t be that much further ahead, I thought. All the while we hear the rush of the river below but where the hell is Rucky Chucky? The trail widened and began to climb before dropping to the River Crossing. Rucky Chucky Near (78 miles) was a sight indeed. It was an oasis in the middle of the night with the hum of the generators powering its bright lights that pierced the darkness. I was weighed and explained the procedure for crossing. It would be waist high and I would need to take the pack off and throw over my shoulder. Both hands were to be on the rope at all times.
As we made our way into the water I noticed they had lights in the water showing up the rocks on the riverbed. A line of volunteers clad in wetsuits stood in the water holding the rope still for the runners. I thanked each and every one of them as I passed. They commented on how good I looked, but I figured they said that to everyone who crossed, still a nice gesture. The water was divine, I wasn’t cold at all, it was refreshing and just what the legs needed washing away the dirt and grime of 78 miles of dusty trails.



A daylight American River crossing

Once on the other side of the river I was handed my drop bag immediately. I had put a pair of shoes and a clean pair of socks in there. I sat down for only the second time all day and while Nic Maloney’s mate Damien got me a coffee, I changed my top and added a long sleeve Race Ready shirt for the cooler night ahead. I decided my feet were good and left the spare shoes and socks in the drop. I ate some more fruit and refilled my handheld with Gu20. Susanna did a great job getting me to the river in quick time; I was now an hour ahead of 24hr pace.

We left and made our way up the 1.7-mile climb to Green Gate. A long walk up a wide well groomed trail, I was quite happy to eat whilst walking. Halfway up we came across firstly, Di Weaver and then Di (99). I stopped briefly to say g’day. It seemed Martin Schot (MRX) was flying up ahead with Martin Fryer (Phibes) and David Eadie (Chefsontherun) in front of him. I was now the fourth placed Aussie runner having passed Jason Dunn (Dunny) somewhere out there; I didn’t see him all day?

At Green Gate I decided it was time to switch to coke. I rummaged around looking for some hot food but again the soup was chicken broth or noodle. The next 10-miles along the Auburn Lakes Trail (ALT) is mostly flat with some small undulations. If there is any running left in your legs this is the time to make up some serious time.
I rolled along with Suzanne in front and kind of drifted off into my happy pace again.

The trail for the most part is single track with woods on either side and occasionally opened up a little to a clearing. At one point we started running down a wide fire trail with another 4 runners ahead of us. I pulled ahead of Susanna as she was having problems negotiating the trail with her inadequate hand torch. A bit further down the trail we hear a hell from one of the runners ahead. “Have you guys seen any tape in the trees back there?” My heart sunk, Shit I hadn’t been paying attention and just presumed we were on the right trail, hell there were 4 runners ahead of us? Susanna reckoned she recognised the trail and said we were ok. We continued down the hill but still no tape. I switched on the spotter on my Apex but I couldn’t see any trail markers anywhere. By this time the runners ahead had stopped and we pulled up alongside them. I noticed the trail looped around a bend at the bottom and decided to run to the turn and see if I could see a marker. Again no tape, we had taken the wrong turn. Damn! I was pissed. I ran hard up the trail with the other runners and their pacers and in the process dropped my pacer, who was struggling to stay with us. Amazing what a little adrenaline will do. Finally we arrived at the top of the trail and realised where we had gone wrong. The ALT veered off to the left on a smaller side trail and was marked, we just missed it.
I looked at my watch and reckoned I had lost a good 20 minutes here; I still had a cushion on 24hr pace but couldn’t afford another stuff up. I ran hard trying to make up for lost time. I looked back but couldn’t see Susanna. I figured I’d alert the people at the ALT aid station that my pacer fell off. When I arrived there I checked the 24hr pace arrival time, I had indeed lost 20 minutes but was still 40 mins in front. I didn’t hang around, just asked how far to the next aid station and left.

I was alone now and once over my initial disappointment of losing the trail started to enjoy myself again with the bonus of no more whooping J. The increase in pace had sparked a new energy inside me and I found myself almost striding out along the very runnable ALT. Once in a while the trail would be very narrow with a sharp drop off on the right and a steep incline on the left. It wasn’t hazardous but there certainly wasn’t a lot of room for runners to get around if need be. I passed numerous runners and their pacers, the ice in my bottles working well as a rattle to alarm them of my impending arrival from behind. Most were courteous enough to pull over to the side and allow me to pass. I would do the same when someone tried passing me.

Next up was the Brown’s Bar aid station. I’d read lots about this A.S, it had quite the reputation. Run by the Hash House Harriers, they played loud music and beer was reported to be on offer here. It wasn’t long before I could hear the Rolling Stones belting one out across the canyon. How cool was this? It did take a while to arrive there with the trail weaving its way through the canyon then dropping off before a sweeping right-hander into the aid station. Dawn Infurna-Bean, one of the runners featured in the 2001 Race for the Soul DVD, passed me. She was powering along with her pacer, very impressive indeed. With the lights of Brown’s bar in sight I increased the pace. Looking across at the AS I stupidly fell over for the second time of the day, again my water bottle saving my hands. Nothing serious, in my hastiness to get to the AS I neglected to look where I was going.

Brown’s Bar was my second favourite AS of the day. The Harriers were dressed in red dresses and were half cut for sure. I managed to get some delicious potato and leek soup and quickly downed two cups; I was a happy man again. I could have stayed there for a while but needed to get moving. As I left I noticed Dawn just leaving too. I followed her back out onto the trail, pulled up alongside her and struck up a conversation. She was starting to feel the pace from earlier, but soon found a new wind and took off again, or maybe it was my conversation. The first mile or so coming out of Brown’s Bar is wide and flat trail that winds through woods and meadows. It meanders alongside the highway without actually crossing it; occasionally I could hear the rush of cars in the distance. About a mile or so from the road crossing the trail climbs steeply on uneven broken up track. This was a surprise; I guess I should have payed closer attention to the course notes, however I welcomed the chance to drop to a power walk and as I grew more tired I made a conscious effort to keep an eye on trail markers. The course is so well marked with glow sticks every few hundred metres, I was confident I wouldn’t stray off course again. My energy levels were good and I was looking forward to the aid station and a chance to get more calories in.
As I approached I was escorted across the road by the local police, called out my number and was then met by Damien again. He mentioned that they could organise another pacer for me seen as my pacer had now hooked up with someone else. I decided to fly solo. There was a good crowd there and a great atmosphere with the temptation to hang around. I ate some salted spuds and filled my handheld with coke. By this stage I had drained the camelbak and was going to bring it home with one bottle, which was plenty. The coke had an immediate affect and I was ready to go. It was 2.14am and with 93.5 miles behind me I had a comfortable buffer on 24hr pace.

I climbed back out from the aid station through an open field where I first saw the beacon of light emanating from the Placer High School track at Auburn. There were two beams of light piercing the night sky calling out to the weary runner guiding them home.
I reached the top of the gentle rise and then it was a 2 mile drop to No Hands Bridge and the final crossing of the American River. This was hard on the quads as if they hadn’t been smashed up enough already. With a sub 24hr finish looking likely, I switched off a little over the final 5 miles. I knew I had it in the bag (barring a fall or injury) so decided to really soak up the final few miles in an attempt to totally absorb the experience. I found myself once again sharing a few kms with Dawn and pacer down to No Hands. Her pacer was amused with my Dublin accent, her husband also hailing from the “durty ole town”

We pulled into No Hands aid station; it was lit up like a Christmas tree. I loved these nighttime oases, the volunteers obviously going to great lengths. There was even a huge screen playing movies as we entered. I filled up on coke again, nibbled a bit and headed out with my new friends. I loved the crossing of the bridge itself and inquired about its history. Apparently it was the first concrete rail bridge built in North America, used for the transport of limestone from an upstream quarry. At one stage there was no handrail on either side. It got its name from a horse rider who would drop her reins whilst crossing. For now it was lit up with fairy lights strung across either side, awesome.



No Hands Bridge

The trail is generally flat and soft then after a while rises abruptly to Robie Point, which lies just over a mile from the finish.
I pulled away from Dawn here as she struggled. As I approached the Robie Point aid station the volunteers told me to keep going, “don’t stop just follow the road markers all the way up the hill to the stadium” There were numerous people about and this was the middle of the night. I couldn’t believe the level of support. Cheers of “good job”, and “a silver buckle awaits you”. I power walked the final hill and then started running once near the top. I could now “smell the barn door” with the entrance to the track in sight. The voice of the announcer boomed over the loud speaker, the adrenaline was flowing and I found myself getting quite emotional as I entered the stadium. This was it, the final 300mtrs of a day long adventure that will remain with me forever. I looked for a familiar face but it wasn’t till the last straight that I noticed a few of the Aussie crowd with Bernie and Di both at the side of the track. My name was called out “another runner from down under”. I crossed the finish line in 23.05 and was presented my medal by Tim Twietmeyer.
I’ve completed a few 100 milers now but this finish was definitely the sweetest.



At last the finish line!

I sat around at the finish line and chatted with Martin Schot who ran a blinder and then made my way to the showers. The shower was divine, and once back at trackside I sat under some blankets for a few hours (my body temperature plummeted) cheering the others in. It gave me goose bumps watching the emotion on some of the runners faces as they hit that final straight and when the Aussie Assaulters hit the track we made sure they got an extra loud cheer bringing them home. The announcer was on the ball each time giving the Aussies a great gee up as soon as they hit the track. It really is quite an experience watching the finish for the runners. Family and friends would join some of the runners and run it in from Robie Point, a mile out. The look of elation, relief and satisfaction on their faces…pure Gold!

We all gathered at the track for the awards ceremony where we were all individually awarded our buckles by Tim Twietmeyer, a nice touch.

We spent the next few days recovering, socialising and re-hydrating J before we all went our separate ways. This experience was so much more than a 100 mile run it was the coming together of a fantastic bunch of people (all as crazy as each other) sharing what for many will be a once in a lifetime experience.

Thank you Whippet for suggesting the run and also Sean Greenhill, Ian Javes and Bill Thompson (amongst other Aussies who have run WS) for providing the inspiration.
And a huge thank you to Carol and Phil for their generosity whilst there.