When we left off, our hero had just discovered the wonders of Trenchfoot.
After Alexis left Michigan Bluff, we packed up our gear and hiked back up to the car. While the rest of the crew organized the gear I pinned my pacer bib onto my shorts and we discussed the plans for the rest of the race. While we drove from Michigan Bluff to the Foresthill Elementary School, Alexis descended into Volcano Canyon by herself.
We got parked just past the Aid Station and I headed out running backwards on the course towards the Bath Road Aid Station. Crews are allowed to hike the 1.7 miles to this AS and hike all the way back to Forest Hill with their runners. We decided that I would go alone so that the rest of the crew would have time to get everything ready. I met another pacer doing the same thing, and we ran together all the way to Bath Road. This was a nice run, indicative of the sense of family that surrounds an Ultra running event.
When we arrived at the Aid Station we moved to the side to stay out of the way of the volunteers. This was a pretty small Aid Station compared to everything else out on the course, but in all fairness it was only 1.7 miles from Foresthill, which looked like it was being run by Barnum and Bailey.
Two runners came in pretty close together, and one of them already had a pacer with him. The pacer must have noticed us other pacers idling around and told us that the Aid Station workers had told him that it was alright to run in and find your runner since it was after 8 pm. We both looked to the Aid Station worker for reassurance, and she nodded to us. I immediately headed down the trail, which was steep and technical, I guess the other pacer decided to wait, because I never saw him again.
I only had to run in about a half of a mile before I found Alexis, jogging along like her feet didn't look like oatmeal inside those Hokas. I asked her how she was, because she looked good, and she told me that Volcano Canyon was turning out to be a long climb out. We talked and climbed up to the Aid Station at Bath Road, and I must admit that I was surprised to see her in such good shape. This was mile 60.
Leaving that Aid Station we faced a 3/4 mile paved hill to get us back to the main road in Foresthill. Alexis let me know that she had no intention of running up that hill, and that was fine, because coming down it I didn't see anyone else running up it. I let her know that Lee Conner and Alissa Springman, the two girls that Alexis knew at Western States this year, were not that far in front of her. I didn't tell her this to spark her competitive drive as much as to reassure her that she was running fine. Slow and steady was still working.
When we reached Foresthill Aid Station, Alexis was whisked away to the medical check-in, and I told her to take her time and eat, and that Scott or Eli would meet her at the end of the line of Aid Station pavilions to guide her to where the crew was parked. This Aid Station looked like a little town of its own. Tent after tent of food and drink and massage tables and who knows what else stretched out for 150 yards. It was dark out by this point, and she didn't have her headlamp on yet. I ran ahead to the crew to make sure that everything was ready.
I would be lying if I said that this Aid Station stop didn't frustrate me. We had a plan: to feed her soup, to put her headlamp on her, to re-supply her gear vest, and to get US running as soon as possible. With the medical check, the official Aid Station, and then the crew this was three stops in a row, and we didn't need to eat up any more time than was necessary. But we did.
Looking back I think that my sense of urgency most likely made Sue and Eli a little anxious. Scott, he doesn't get anxious. He just does his thing. At this particular Aid Station he pretty much held the team together. Alexis looked like she was about to fall asleep on her feet all of the sudden, maybe because it was full-on dark now. We looked like the Three Stooges trying to get her into her vest and headlamp at the same time. She took about three bites of soup and said she was done. Instead of arguing, I ate the soup myself because I wanted us moving again. I'm sure that I was a bit of a jerk to the rest of the crew here, and they never said anything about it, even after the race. For that I both thank them, and apologize. It had already been a long day for everyone, and we were all trying to do our best to get to Auburn.
And we were finally off and running. Foresthill Aid Station is at mile 62, 100 kilometers run already, 38 more miles to go. Soon we would be surpassing the farthest distance had ever run before, it was dark, it was still hot, but we had plenty of time, and this was Western States. I took a mile or so to appreciate the fact that I was running in the footsteps of giants like Scott Jurek, Tim Twietmeyer, Ann Trason, Gordy Ainsleigh, Geoff Roes, and many more. I tried to share this inspiring moment with my runner, but she was not in the mood for inspiration.
It was going to be a long night. It was going to be a glorious night. Almost right away, Alexis tells me that she is tired.
"I know you're tired, you've run sixty-some-odd miles already. Less than forty left to go."
"NO, I just want to go to sleep! I can't do this."
"Yes you can," I tell her. "You didn't come here to quit. Think about why you ARE here. You're just hitting a wall, this will pass. Lets keep moving."
Silence.
We trudge on for a mile or so more, Alexis grumbling the whole way about hotel beds and soft pillows. Then it hits me. HOLY CRAP! I have let my runner bonk.
"You need to eat something."
"No, I ate so much at Foresthill that my stomach hurts, I have to wait for this to digest before I can eat."
"No, you are out of calories. A chunk of watermelon and three bites of soup 3 miles ago isn't making you feel full. You are crashing. Eat!"
So she ate. And she complained about it. And I made her eat some more. Whatever she had on her. Grapes, crackers, a gel, everything. It took about twenty minutes to kick in, but without even noticing it herself, she was moving faster and complaining less. When I pointed this out, we came to an agreement; she would eat more. Simple as that.
We traveled over the 16 miles of the California Trail that leads from Foresthill to the Rucky Chucky crossing of the American River. In and out of three Aid Stations; the Dardanelles with it's glow in the dark aliens at mile 65.7, Peachstone at mile 70.7, and Fords Bar at mile 73 with music hot food and cots full of sleeping runners. We kept moving. Through this section of the race we passed runners worse off than Alexis, and were passed by runners who were feeling better to be out of the heat of the day. We saw a lot of people whose race had fallen victim to the near record heat, and would probably not finish the race. We kept moving, through ups and downs, over many nearly-dry creek crossings, and on into the darkness.
From Ford's Bar to the Rucky Chucky near Aid Station is only 5 miles, but that night I am sure that those miles were measured out by either David Horton or the Devil himself. We would get close enough to the river to hear it, and then move away again. This happened over and over. This gently rolling section felt like it was full of mammoth climbs, and this is where Alexis' Achilles started hurting her. We were running along and she yelled out in pain, I thought that she had twisted her ankle or been attacked by a mountain lion or something. She said that something 'snapped' in her heel and that it hurt to walk on it.
"Well," I said "If it hurts to walk, and it hurts to run, then I guess we'll run."
And we did. Or at least we tried. There may have been a lot of cursing and a little crying following this incident, but I'll never tell.
We finally reached the river crossing, 5 miles covered in 1 1/2 hours, and found ourselves at another of the Western States Parties. It was two in the morning, and there was music, hot food, and dozens of volunteers, including a massage therapist from Monsters of Massage. I went to fill our water bottles and get food for us while Alexis got weighed, and when I came back to find her she was gone. I looked everywhere, and finally found her laying down on a massage table having her Achilles worked on. I almost lost it! We did not have time for this. I made her eat while the therapist worked on her foot, this was taking forever. I knew it was two in the morning and that this guy didn't have to be here, in fact it was awesome that he was here, but my runner needed to get her butt up and cross that river.
Being as nice as I could, to the volunteers, not my runner, I got her off of the table and down to the river crossing. The water was cold, and the water was wide, and the water was a good bit deeper than we had been promised. But there was not only a guideline to follow, but a dozen or more volunteers standing in the waist deep water at 2 a.m., helping you find the best footing. We made it across the water to the other side. It took 30 minutes from the time we arrived at the Aid Station to get across the water. Sue and Scott were waiting for us, along with a tough mile and a half climb up to the Green Gate Aid Station, where Alexis kept saying that if you made it there within the cut-off times you could finish.
We all hiked up together, and when we got there we changed her socks for dry ones, fed her more, and swapped out my headlamp batteries. Somehow we spent 15 minutes at this Aid Station, but by this point I was getting used to wasting time. I checked my watch, twenty more miles of trail, 7 1/2 hours of race. I knew at this point that a buckle finish was in the bag, and I started to wonder how well we might do. 27 hours? Maybe 26?
I kept those thoughts to myself, and focused on keeping Alexis fed and moving forward.
I kept repeating to her "Without food you can't move forward." This became a colossal struggle between me and her fatigued brain. The other major battle was with her ankle. The better she ate the less she complained about it. Somehow with all of the other issues facing her, she seemed for the most part to forget that her shoes were now filled with mushy-swollen-pulp that used to be feet. She soldiered on, our pace steadily slowed, but I can assure you that the amount of effort put forth grew with every single step.
We shuffled (not ran, because I couldn't ask her to run anymore) across the flats, we jogged down the hills, and we fought our way up the inclines. On and on like this. Auburn Lake Trail Aid Station, mile 85.2, the sky was beginning to lighten and they had pancakes. We ate, we ran away. Brown's Bar Aid Station, mile 89.9, they had music playing, and it bounced of the canyon walls making you think you were almost there for over a mile. Cruel. It was now fully light outside.
The heat was coming on fast, and we were down in a Canyon with a long exposed climb ahead of us. The climb to Highway 49 had Alexis cursing everyone who has ever called Western States a downhill race. It was a good 1 3/4 mile steep climb up to the Aid Station. Highway 49, mile 93.5, we dropped some gear with our crew, partook of some nice cold fruit smoothies, cold Gatorade, and moved on down the trail. It was full on hot now. But the end was in sight.
No Hands Bridge, mile 96.8, what a beautiful sight. We filled water bottles and kept moving. Tim Twietmeyer was running backwards on the course, and told us that we had three miles to go and two hours to do it. There was another hot fully exposed climb ahead, but it lead us into Auburn and that was the goal. She ran like a champ for a full mile out of the Aid Station, but then she went down with a shriek. It was the Achilles again, she could barely stand up on it. I told her that she only had 2 1/2 miles to go, and that even if she had to crawl through the dirt I would not let her quit. I wanted to pick her up and carry her, but I couldn't. She clenched her jaw, cried a little, and limped up the hill, passing those worse off than her, in silent determination all the way to Robie Point.
"For the Western States 100 is terribly honest in its demands and rewards. During these two-dozen hours in the wilderness we will be governed apart from the world of political favors, hidden agendas, and orchestrated cheers. Our number – which includes woodsmen, ranchers, nurses, investment bankers, mechanics and computer engineers – will all be measured on the same scale. We will test ourselves against the mountains."
Eli was waiting for us at Robie Point. We got water because even though it was only 1.3 miles, it was already in the 90's. There is a climb out of this Aid Station, insult to injury is how the saying goes, all on paved road, leading to the final stretch of road into the stadium at Placer High School. At the top of the hill we picked up Scott and Sue, and passed a runner who was drinking a beer, already celebrating his finish that was still 1/2 mile away. As we ran past him, he asked how Alexis had any legs left.
"She doesn't," I told him, "all she has left is heart."
"By the time we reach the finish we will have found, both physically and mentally, as many valleys and peaks as mark the trail. For those who come into Auburn arrive with a rare grace. The runners who press through the weary and lonely hours can get through only if they are tough and at peace with themselves."
We crossed the finish line of the 2013 Western States Endurance Run in 28:49:05. The goal was to finish, but she did much more than that. The trials that she was able to overcome should make her at least as proud as that shiny buckle that was awarded to her. But in the end I suppose that the two are inseparable. We went to California so that she could measure herself against the mountains and the distance. Add to that the heat and a nearly fatal rookie mistake with her feet, and I dare say that she more than measured up. She toed the line, met every obstacle along the way, and persevered to the very end. Congratulations Runner, I would gladly pace you any time.
“What they had done, what they had seen, heard, felt, feared – the places, the sounds, the colors, the cold, the darkness, the emptiness, the bleakness, the beauty. ‘Til they died, this stream of memory would set them apart, if imperceptibly to anyone but themselves, from everyone else. For they had crossed the mountains… “
Alexis,
There were times when it was both scary and inspiring at the same time. I feel privileged to have been a part of this adventure with you, and even though I know that it was probably harder even than it looked from a pacer's perspective, you have inspired me to go farther and push harder. To see what you were able to push yourself to accomplish makes me want to demand more of myself. Not only in my running, but in my life.
-Todd
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