Rio Del Lago 100 RR

Last Summer I had considered trying a 100-miler in the Spring of 2013. But after successfully running a 100k, a couple of 50-milers and a tough 50k (not fast, but successful) I thought, now is the time. I was pretty good shape, not injured, and there's no guarantee that I could be ready next Spring. So I signed up for the Rio Del Lago 100. I picked this race because it was a "moderately difficult" 100-miler, that is, not easy (no 100 miler is easy) but not ridiculously difficult. Plus, I'd run the Sierra Nevada Endurance Runs Marathon along some of the same route and I like those trails. And it crosses No-Hands Bridge twice. In the Western States 100 Miler, when you cross No-Hands bridge you are just over 3 miles from the finish line.  It's special to ultrarunners and is on the Rio Del Lago buckle. My trainer Sean Meissner immediately started me on an ambitious training regimen. 

The race starts out in Granite Bay, California, just north of Sacramento. It follows nice hiking and horse trails north along Folsom Lake and the American River, climbs steeply up to Auburn, then back down across the American River on No Hands, and another long climb to the major aid station at Cool. That's 50k. We then were to run two very hilly 20-mile loops in opposite directions and return back to Granite Bay. Piece of cake.

The most unpleasant part of this race was probably the night before. I went to the packet pickup already really nervous, and the brief "motivational speech" by an experienced ultrarunner was anything but. By the time he had gone over all the things that could go wrong, I was so nervous I could barely eat. The worst was that locals like to remove or relocate the trail markers, causing runners to get lost in the middle of the night. After running 80 miles at 3 a.m., braindead from lack of sleep, I didn't need that extra worry. That night was awful, I hardly slept at all, the 2:45 wakeup time always in my mind, every few minutes I would look at the clock, cursing the day I had signed up for this race. What the hell was I thinking? I usually ask myself that but this time was dreadful.

I finally got up at about 2:30, and got into my routine. I had exhaustively planned every aspect of the race that was under my control and once I got into my plan I felt better. At 3:00, right on schedule, I drank my Perpetuem mixture, got dressed, applied lube to every place that could possibly be a factor, double-checked my drop bags, and was ready to go. My drop bags were the product of my obsessive nature and my nightmares, which involved finding myself lost in the middle of nowhere, led off-course by trail-ribbon vandals, without a light because my headlamp and backup had failed. I had plenty of lighting and my own sportsdrink in bottles that I could quickly slip into my UltrAspire Kinetic vest (I love it) and be on my way.

DW Karen was my crew and she drove me to the start. A skunk had wandered into one of the restrooms so that was off-limits, but others were open and I used them a couple of times. My stomach was a mess. I couldn't believe what I was about to attempt. At precisely 5:00 we started and it was a real relief. We lucked out with the weather, a few days earlier it was in the high 90's but today would start at 60 and top out in the low 80's, with low humidity.

The first miles were nice, running with the headlamp felt OK, and miles 4-10 were fun. The "motivational speaker" had said that this section, which he called the Meat Grinder, would be fun on the way out, but would be hell in our final miles. This was exactly right. This section was up, down, up, down, with big cantaloupe-sized rocks all over the trail, making us pay complete attention and utilize fancy footwork. I ran very conservatively here.

A couple of times a few of us found ourselves off the route but quickly got back on, as the sun rose over Folsom Lake it was a beautiful sight. Finally, Rattlesnake Bar aid station at mile 13 and my first drop bag. The sun had come up by then so I dropped my headlamp and headband, drank some Ensure, and picked up my sunglasses, sunhat and drink bottle. The next section was nice scenic rolling singletrack until the Cardiac Bypass trail, which was a pretty tough climb, then along an aqueduct to the Overlook aid station, then down the Western States Trail to No Hands Bridge at mile 27. It was good to see Karen there.

No Hands Bridge, Mile 27

Leaving No Hands it was only 4 miles, but a big climb up to the Cool Aid Station at 50k, where once again Karen was there for me. She had my drop bag, which had Mexican cane sugar, not high-frucose-corn-syrup, Coke (yay!), more Ensure, sports drink, and my change of shoes and socks. I didn't need them then but would later. Ahead lay two laps of a 20-mile loop with a lot of ups and downs. I was thinking that I had already run a 50k but still had to run 70 miles, further than I ever had run before, to finish. Still I felt pretty good and fresh. The aid stations were outstanding, everything I needed was available and the volunteers were incredibly helpful and attentive. I just drank water and plenty of sportsdrink to get plenty of calories, which is absolutely critical in a 100-miler. Apart from the first 10 miles or so I had been running completely alone most of the time.

On this first loop I started passing some other runners, which was a sign that I had paced myself well. About mile 35 I took my first face-plant, fortunately also my last. The loop seemed to be taking forever. I hit the excellent Knickerbocker aid station about halfway through and ate some brownies, my first solid food. It was pretty hot in the midday sun and I stuffed some ice into my bandana which made a big difference. After that was a long, steep downhill almost to the American River, a long, grueling climb back up, then another seemingly endless rolling section back to Knickerbocker, where I had some more brownies, then a couple miles back to Cool. Mile 50. Halfway. This is where the magnitude of the 100-miler really hit home. If this were a 100k I'd just have less than a half-marathon to go. But today I was only halfway. 50 miles to go. Yikes. I still felt OK, my right achilles tendon was starting to bother me a bit, but the prospect of running another 50 miles was daunting. I had told Karen not to be there but the volunteers were great and took care of me well. I changed my Inov-8s to a half-size larger in case my feet started to swell (they hadn't yet), picked up my headlamps and sportsdrink, and continued on. I also hooked a USB recharger to my Garmin so the battery would last for the full race. It kept tracking perfectly in my backpack and was back up to 100% in an hour or so.

I started out on the second 20-mile loop, a backwards run of the first loop, and this was where I started to fade. Although I felt OK physically, I was  getting discouraged. I was only halfway, my Achilles tendon was starting to hurt, that seemingly endless 20-mile loop lay ahead, and the sun was setting. I was about an hour behind where I had expected to be. This was, mentally, my low point. I broke out the iPod and started listening to, not music, but podcasts, comedy, because that helped me keep my mind off the ordeal. As the sun set I broke out my headlamp and continued on, down that long hill and then back up. I also drank a Coke, my first caffeine of the race (I had cut out caffeine a couple weeks before the race), and that helped to pick me up. A few times I didn't see marker ribbons for quite awhile, and I backtracked a few times in the dark, not certain that I was still on the course. This added to my frustration and bad attitude. I swore loud and often but there was nobody listening anyway. I did use this opportunity to experiment with lighting and finally came to the conclusion that the best option was a hand-held light. A headlamp is fine but doesn't cast visible shadows and so doesn't give depth perception on a rocky trail. The only problem is that the hand-held did not visibly reflect the trail-marker reflective strips. I solved this problem by wearing a headlamp on a very dim setting (which did reflect the trail-markers) and held my primary light in my hand. My anal-retentive planning paid off here, I had a great headlamp, another great backup headlamp, a bright flashlight, and backup batteries for each. This not only gave me peace of mind but also the flexibility to figure out the best lighting. I alternated between holding the headlamp and holding the flashlight. Once it got dark I occasionally took the time to enjoy the clear night sky. During the last half of this loop I passed a few more runners, discussing how they had gotten lost earlier. I had bounced back from my mental low and still felt physically OK except for the Achilles, it had gotten worse but not bad enough to be a show-stopper. Here I passed my longest previous run of 100k and knew that Karen and my pacer were waiting for me back at Cool. I felt like I was over the hump. 

Finally I arrived back at Cool, mile 70, and Karen was waiting for me along with my pacer Bob. The volunteers were also there taking care of anything I might need, almost to the point where in my 70-mile mental fog I was going to tell the volunteer to just leave me alone. I'm glad I didn't. I changed shirts, ate some pizza, and drank a Starbucks Doubleshot. After a couple of weeks caffeine-free, that was like rocket fuel. I stashed a bottle of that Mexican Coke instead of sportsdrink. From then on, glucose and caffeine were my friends.

Bob and I left Cool and headed down the 4-mile downhill to No-Hands. I had recovered from my earlier funk and, chemically-aided, felt great here, headed for home, we really boomed down that hill, passing several runners, I was having a blast after 70 miles! We arrived at No Hands, with just one climb to go, and headed up to Overlook, mile 77. That was a long climb but I was encouraged to meet a volunteer on the way, at 2 a.m., replacing the ribbons that vandals had taken down. Those volunteers were awesome. Arriving at Overlook, I was so glad that they had espresso brownies there. Espresso brownies…just what I needed! Also, Bob mentioned that he needed the restroom here and that triggered something in me, I ducked into the portajohn, avoiding a really unfortunate incident later. 

The Achilles was bothering me more but we continued along the aqueduct, then back down Cardiac Bypass. 

All along Bob was the perfect pacer, gently encouraging  me ("ya want to run a while"?) but not pushing me too hard. Bob was aware that I was moving up in placement and gently encouraged me to keep moving along, although by then I didn't really give a crap. The achilles was quite painful by then. The volunteer at Cardiac, mile 80, had run back up the hill and re-marked the trail so that runners would not go off-course. We continued, feeling pretty good, to Rattlesnake Bar at mile 87, where my second Starbucks Espresso Doubleshot was waiting. I had been stopping to stretch and flex my right leg, which was hurting and starting to weaken. Leaving Rattlesnake I was still running hard, pacer Bob remarking how well I was running after almost 90 miles. Then a couple of miles after leaving Rattlesnake the wheels came off. My right leg suddenly decided that it had had enough, and it no longer wanted to participate. The achilles had gotten so painful that I could barely jog, and the hamstring had joined the protest. But we were still moving at least, and passed a couple more runners who were resting at the aid stations. They had chairs but I didn't want to sit down and get comfortable like the others were doing, I was afraid that I might not ever get up ("beware the chair" is a familiar expression). Then we came to the Meat Grinder, that nasty, rocky section the guy had warned about, and it was just as bad as he had predicted. This was so painful and seemed like it would never end, we just trudged on, mostly a powerhike, occasionally trotting a few yards. A couple of times I actually nodded off for a couple seconds while walking! With almost every step my right foot would land awkwardly on a rock, further aggravating the leg. FINALLY we arrived at mile 96 aid station as it started to get light and left the Meat Grinder behind. I was struggling to make about 20-minute miles at this point and the last 4 miles seemed never-ending. Finally with about a mile to go I spotted the finish line.

With a half mile to go, as my Garmin clicked over the 100-mile mark, we saw a runner coming up behind us. Really? So I "ran" the last half mile to the finish.Turned out that runner was just someone out for a jog. There was Karen, and I asked a volunteer the most obvious question--where's my buckle? He handed me a 100k buckle. I DON'T THINK SO!

Crew and pacer, the key to success.

 Finally the co-RD showed up and gave me the right one.

All in all, it went about as well as I could have hoped. I had no stomach issues, my mostly liquid diet of my own double-strength sports drink, aid station drink, Ensure and Coke kept me fueled well and I never really bonked like I had at mile 30 of Old Pueblo 50. The achilles tendon gave out after 92 miles and that cost me about 45 minutes. More strength training might have prevented that, I don't know. Stuff happens. The 2-bottle UltrAspire race vest was excellent and my headlamps and flashlight worked well. My legs recovered fairly quickly. The achilles is still a bit sore and lumpy two weeks later, but it will be OK. I've had to pull out of a marathon next weekend but it was worth it. And I have a nice buckle.