Rio Del Lago 100 Race Report

Whew. After a week, I'm finally ready to sit down and type this thing out. The aches, pains, frustration, sadness, etc. have subsided and I wanted to make sure I wrote something before it had all escaped my brain.

TL; DNR Version

I attempted my first 100 mile race at the Rio Del Lago 100 on 9/11/2010. I was disqualified at 70 miles after bypassing a checkpoint because course vandals had removed trail markings. By the time I realized my mistake, I did not have enough time to backtrack without missing the time cutoffs.

Extended Version

Ok, if you want to read the gory details, including pre-race prep and post-race results, read on.

Pre-Race Preparation

As you can imagine, running a 100 mile race takes a fair amount of preparation. And it's not just running either (although there is plenty of that involved).

You must:

• Have the right gear (clothes, shoes, headlights, etc.)
• Understand the right way to fuel and hydrate over 24+ hours of continuous movement
• Know how to prepare for the various issues that arise from that much running (i.e. blisters, pain, chafing, etc.)
• Be ready to deal with changing and unexpected weather conditions
• Mentally prepare yourself and be ready for the ups and downs
• Etc., etc., etc.

On the running front, I felt fairly prepared. Not to win or be competitive, but to finish comfortably without the wheels completely coming off. I am not at all a high-mileage trainer. Lack of time, other commitments, other interests, etc. all conspire to winnow away the time I have available to put in training miles. All told, for 2010 (prior to the race), I had put in 817 miles. That's really only about 25 miles a week, which is about what folks should be putting in for basic marathon training.

For me, much of those miles were put in on longer training runs, which seems to work for me. In 2010, I've done:

• 2 50 mile runs
• 3 marathons (26.2 miles)
• 5 50Ks (31 miles)

Leading up to the 100, I had staggered 50Ks 2 weeks apart as preparatory long runs, and was generally happy with my preparation given all other commitments.

On the gear/fueling front, I had no issues except blisters. I have had some foot blister problems crop up over the last 6 months or so that I have not been able to fix properly. I've tried different shoes, socks, powders, lubricants, taping, etc.

Mentally, I was not sure how I would hold up. The longest I'd previously run was 50 miles and just shy of 14 hours. I knew I would be doubling both distance and time running, and who knows how the body and mind will respond.

One last prep item - I had decided about 10 weeks out that I wanted to drop a few pounds before race day. I am in reasonable shape but still have some extra weight that I could shed, which I knew would make the race easier. I eat fairly healthy as is, so I decided to cut out a trio of extra calorie sources until the race: alcohol, soda, and "fancy" coffee (i.e. mochas, etc.). I thought this would be a little more successful than it was - I only ended up losing about 4 lbs in those 10 weeks. Oh well, lesson learned.

Race Week

The week of the race was spent doing final preparations. This was a taper week from a running perspective, meaning I was done with training and was just doing short runs to stay sharp. I visited my chiropractor one last time for a tuneup. The body was feeling good.

I had taken two days off of work (Friday and Monday) to travel up to the Sacramento area and give myself a day of rest after the race. We had our reservations at the "official" race hotel, I had my pace charts printed out, drop bags packed, and had my all-star crew (Ana and Beetle) prepared with directions to the aid stations and instructions. We were set to go.

Friday, we got a bit of a late start and hit a spot of traffic, but I was able to make the mandatory pre-race medical check and racer meeting with about 30 minutes to spare. For 100 milers, they check your weight, BP, pulse, etc. During race day, there are various medical checks to make sure you haven't lost/gained too much weight, etc.

Here's a picture of me checking in on Friday.

And here's a picture of me at weigh in. I'm being weighed by ultrarunning legend Helen Klein. Helen and her husband Norm founded this race about 10 years ago and also co-directed Western States 100 for many years (the superbowl of ultrarunning). Among many other accomplishments, Helen did the Grand Slam in 1989 at age 66 (the Grand Slam is completing four of the most famous 100 mile races in the same year). She was surprised that I weighed in exactly at 200 lbs. Not sure if this was because she thought I'd be at around 220 or something?!?

During the pre-race briefing, the race directors did note that vandalism had been a problem historically but that they had marked the course quite well and would continue to monitor the situation. This did not give me the warm fuzzies, but nothing else to be done at this point. The other thing that bothered me with this speech was that they continued to note various landmarks for navigation with the assumption that everyone in the room knew what they were talking about and should know where they were going. I, along with a number of others in the room, had never set foot on any of the trails so was stepping into uncharted territory. Obviously that's a bit of ominous foreshadowing, but I left the meeting psyched up and ready to go.

We spent an uneventful night doing final prep, having dinner, etc. I was able to get to sleep fairly early, but I did not sleep well at all. Part of it was a crappy hotel bed, but I was generally anxious/nervous/etc.

Race Day

We got back to Cavitt School (race HQ and start/finish) on Saturday morning with about 3o minutes til' start. We all hung around the gym in nervous anticipation. I recognized a few folks from pictures on various blogs, etc., but I did not know anyone. Folks who know my bubbly personality know that I did not take this opportunity to introduce myself, so Ana and I just hung out and counted down til' 6am. Before I knew it, the countdown clock had reached zero, and we were off.

Here's a picture of me heading off, assuming my usual place at the back of the pack (left side - green shorts, blue shirt, backpack).

Although it was dark at the start, I didn't bother with a headlight. Sunrise was around 6:30-6:40, and there were enough other folks with lights that I could navigate without issue.

The first few miles are right around Folsom Lake. It was a wide and easy trail, and I was enjoying the cool morning air, knowing that the forecast was for the low 90s that day. Before we knew it, we were hitting the first of many aid stations and were transitioning to singletrack. I noted that this section of the course did not seem to be marked very well and made some mental notes about two intersections for the return trip (the first part of the course is a modified out and back where you return on basically the same route you went out on).

All in all, I was feeling good, maintaining a nice and easy pace through the first miles. At around 12 miles or so, I could feel my heel blisters starting. This has become an unfortunate part of my long runs, but I knew I could work through it. I made a mental plan to check them out/fix them around mile 67 when I would meet up with Ana at Cavitt School.

Still feeling good as we rolled through the next few aid stations. There was one final "unofficial" aid station right before the first hill (Cardiac). Those guys were great and very encouraging. I left there looking forward to some hills.

Cardiac

Looking forward to hills was a huge mistake. Cardiac is a tough hill, but by no means close to the toughest I have run. But for some reason, this hill completely destroyed me. It's quite short, but increases in elevation vary quickly. See the altitude chart below - the spike up at around 20 miles is Cardiac.

Almost immediately on the way up Cardiac, I started to feel bad. I do not remember the wheels coming off this suddenly, ever. I had to stop multiple times to catch my breath and give my heart rate a chance to settle. At one point, I started to get dizzy and had to sit down for about 5 minutes. 3-4 runners passed while I was sitting and encouraged me to keep going. Ultrarunners are great for this, since they've all been there before and know what it takes to fight through adversity. I tell you - I wouldn't have bet 1000 to 1 that I could finish after how I felt on that climb up. But after gathering myself for a bit, I made it to the top.

Canal to Auburn Dam Overlook

At the top of Cardiac is this neat little canal that runs along the trail. This was great - I took a chance to dip my hat in the cool water, and this is when I started to feel a bit better. The folks at the next aid station were great too - I joked to a volunteer that I thought there was a sniper out on Cardiac after seeing so many people dropping like flies. He thought I was serious at first before catching on and he got a real charge out of that. Usually it is the volunteers supplying the gallows humor but the role reversal was fun.

Here's a picture of me coming in to the Auburn Dam Overlook (ADO) station.

ADO at about 23 miles is the first weigh-in. If you are down 5% in weight, they will make you sit and eat/drink, and if you are down 7%, they will pull you from the race. 5% for me is 10 lbs, and I weighed in at 195 (down 5 lbs). So, nothing to worry about. I chatted with Ana for a bit and filled up on water & supplies. Here's me leaving the aid station. You can tell I'm a bit directionally challenged by the volunteers pointing me in the right direction.

ADO back to ADO

From ADO, you head out for another 22 miles or so before returning. A bit of this stretch is on the Western States Trail, where the Western States 100 is held. This was pretty neat hitting this part. I was not feeling 100%, but much better than I did on Cardiac. I saw these two ladies riding horses, and I slowed down and moved over to let them pass. They motioned me forward, indicating their horses would be ok with the activity. I chatted for a second and said "That horse has some big ears!" She responded that it was actually a mule (horse/donkey) mix. That was pretty neat, hopefully the mule was not offended.

I continued on and reached No Hands Bridge, which is one of the iconic places in ultrarunning due to its placement on the Western States 100. It was neat to cross the bridge (an old rail bridge that only supports foot/bike/horse traffic now), and I stopped briefly at the aid station at the end of the bridge to refuel.

Next was K2, the second (of 2) major climb of the day. You can see it on the elevation chart above. I was much more cautious here after my experience on Cardiac. It was also getting quite warm, though I was doing well with the heat. My caution paid off, as I did not blow any gaskets on the way up, even though it was quite steep and exposed. I did have to pause a few times, but not for nearly as long as I did on Cardiac.

I passed through the Cool Fire Station stop (30 miles) and the effort was starting to catch up to me. I was doing a lot of walking, and just was not feeling great. I remember thinking there was no way I'd be able to make it another 70 miles (you have lots of these thoughts in ultras). This section of the course was very pretty though - lots of open fields of golden grass, slight slopes, woodpeckers flying around, etc.

I think this eventually helped my attitude, culminating with my stop through Knickerbocker aid station at 35 miles. A married couple (I think) was manning this mini aid station (water/gatorade only), and they were very nice. I'd been running for about nine hours at this point, and we spent a few minutes talking about how tough a day it was, and they had encouraging words. Talking to them really picked my spirits up for some reason. The next part of the course was about 1.5 miles of slight uphill on a road back to the Cool Fire Station, and I felt recharged.

Coming back in to the fire station, I was given another boost from a slight case of schadenfreude. There were probably 4-5 runners at the station that looked totally wiped out. I was not happy about their sad states, but knowing there were other people struggling too seemed to pump me up a bit. I was in and out of the station in just a couple of minutes and I headed back toward ADO via the K2 descent and back across No Hands.

I ran into the first navigation problem of the day here. At one point of the trail, you pop out into a cul de sac. There are two horse gates with trails behind them, and a road heading uphill. Even though I had traversed this section coming out, I did not know which direction to take, and there were no markers. The rule of thumb when getting lost during a race is to sit tight and wait for someone that knows the way. So, I basically did this for about 5 minutes or so. Noone came, though, and luckily I happened to see someone at a nearby house tending his horses. I ran up the hill to ask him if he knew the way back to ADO. He pointed me in the right direction (thank you sir!). The right direction was past one of the horse gates, down a hill about a quarter mile, and then a sharp right. I did this and started to see ribbons again. I felt bad for folks behind me, because you'd have to get very lucky to stay on course here. But I was off, having lost about 10 minutes or so but happy to be headed back on the right track.

Here's me coming back in to ADO (44 miles). I look pretty fried after being out in the sun all day.

I met up with Ana again, which was nice. She gave me my headlight, flashlight, and jacket, since it would be getting dark soon enough, and I had another 22 miles or so before the next checkin at Cavitt School. I weighed in, and was still at 195, so no problems there.

ADO to Folsom Lake

I tell you what - Cardiac is much nicer going down! That's an understatement. I ran into my second navigation issue sometime shortly after the Cardiac descent. There was an unmarked intersection, and I sat tight waiting for some other runners. There were two groups of runners/pacers (you could pick up a pacer at ADO to accompany you if desired) behind me a little ways, and the two pacers volunteered to go ahead on each fork til' they found the right way. Luckily, they did after a minute or two, and we continued on our way. Thanks pacers!

Overall, I was feeling OK through about mile 50, when it started getting dark. Right around this time (don't remember the specifics), I turned on my lights, and I felt the blister on my left heel pop. This was wholly unpleasant. It was quite a searing pain, and it caused me to have to alter my stride a bit. I was now wishing I had fixed the blisters at the ADO return instead of waiting til' Cavitt. The pain was bearable (it's all relative at this point), so I continued on.

I hit my second mental low point on the trails back to Cavitt. I was tired, it was dark, and my feet hurt. The mind goes through endless negotiations with itself about quitting. It would be easy to drop at Cavitt - my car is there, Ana can take me back to the hotel, etc. Then, I'd feel better for a while and be determined to continue. That is just how the mind works during ultras and I'm used to it.

Surprisingly, I was able to navigate the singletrack and trails on the return in the dark without much issue. I remembered the two tricky parts I had noted earlier, and went through without a problem. I went through the last couple of aid stations (Rattlesnake Bar, Horseshoe Bar) with about 75 minutes of cushion for the cutoffs (in ultras, there are intermediate time cutoffs during the race - i.e. you have to reach point A in X hours, point B in Y hours, etc.).

Leaving the last aid station before Cavitt (Twin Rocks), I had an hour cushion (the cutoff to leave there was 12:15am, I left at 11:15pm). Another ultra legend, Dave Combs, was at Twin Rocks. Dave is a great ambassador for our sport, and was at the station on the outbound route as well, meaning he had been there for 12-15 hours straight. He is at so many races helping folks out, he deserves thanks from everyone in ultrarunning. He gave some final words of encouragement and I continued on toward Cavitt.

Disaster

I popped out of the singletrack and onto the trail around Folsom Lake. I really wished I had been paying more attention in the morning. I continued on the trail, and though it was wide and the lake is always on the left, there were almost no markers. The race directors had promised glow sticks at night, but I saw maybe 1-2 the whole way.

I finally got to another point where I felt like I was lost. I waited for some folks behind me to catch up, and I started following them. What I did not know was that I had already bypassed the turn I needed to make to return to the school. The runners I started following had already gone to the school and were starting out on the second part of the course (the last 33 miles).

I followed them along the levee, which proved to be my undoing. I did not really remember this part, but I don't have the greatest trail memory, so pushed on. After about two miles, we popped out onto a road crossing, and I realized what I had done. Unfortunately, I had slowed down so much, I did not have time to make it back to Cavitt before the 1:30am cutoff. I desperately looked for a shortcut back to the school via road, but was out of luck.

To illustrate, here's a google maps of the trail going back to the school. Green is what I should have done, red is what actually happened.

So, once I realized I couldn't make it back to Cavitt, I continued on course for another mile or so (I was never actually off course, I just missed a turn) to the Folsom Dam Park aid station. I relayed my story to the volunteers there and they called in to HQ to let them know my situation. I also borrowed one of their cell phones to call Ana and have her pick me up.

As I waited for Ana, I took off my backpack and laid down on a picnic table and just watched the stars. I was immensely frustrated, but I did not have enough energy to be too upset. I put on my jacket (I started to get really cold and shiver now that I had stopped moving for the first time in 20 hours), we got in the car, and headed back to the school to turn in my timing chip.

Sigh

That was a tough end to a tough day. I had put a lot of prep into it (not to mention money, time off work, etc.) and it was very disappointing to not be able to finish, especially since I was feeling pretty good. Ana noted that I looked much better than many of the folks she saw coming in to the school as she was waiting for me. Even though it was the longest I'd ever run, I still felt like I had plenty in the tank to continue, and would have given myself good odds to finish the last 30 miles. Alas, it was not my day.

Post-Race Malaise

For the past week or so, I've been in a bit of a funk. The DNF has sunk in, as has the fact that due to scheduling issues, I'll not be able to try another 100 miler until next summer. Ana also left to head back to China for research, so that has not helped my mood either.

Although I'm frustrated at whomever it was that removed the course markings, I can't be too mad. That's exactly the kind of stupid thing I would have done when I was a kid. I have no idea why, but I had the gene for vandalism and destruction when I was a kid and liked to break/ruin things for no apparent reason. So, I guess this is just karma paying me a visit.

It's really more just a huge sense of disappointment. To have that much preparation be squandered is disappointing. I'm disappointed for Ana too, since she put a lot of time and energy into helping me, and she really wanted to see me finish this. In the grand scheme of things, it's a minor blip - things will work themselves out eventually.

Healthwise, I'm starting to feel normal again today, a week after the race. The last two toes on my left foot are still kinda numb though (sorta like they've fallen asleep). But, they are getting better. When I told the ESL student I tutor about my toes this week, she told me she wore a pair of super high heels to her sister's wedding, and her toes were numb for three months! So, that made more optimistic for a quick return of toe feeling.

Oh, here's one last picture. Who doesn't love a good blister picture, right? This is the one on my right foot that didn't pop during the race. (I don't know why my foot looks like the elephant man)

Because of the gait changes I had to make to accommodate my blisters, my right foot was pretty screwed up. Until about Thursday, it felt like I had a golf ball in my shoe. Ice helped that, though, and I think I'm ok to run again. I will probably head out today for a few miles.

Lessons Learned

So, in addition to getting in my longest run ever, I was able to take away some learnings from the experience. Having a crew is great - it's a long lonely run out there and it is nice to have a friendly face out there willing to help. I need to keep working on blister prevention, and make sure I fix them early next time. My pacing worked pretty well - I started out slow and was able to keep decent time. For the most part, I was passing people, which is always a good sign.

And, most of all, I realized that you need to make it through a lot of adversity to finish this kind of thing. Pain, weather, getting lost, are all roadblocks you need to fight through.

That's what makes it fun . . .