100 Miles on the Tahoe Rim Trail

Checking in. The day before the big event in Carson City. Best race bibs ever!

Laying in bed the night before the race I could feel my left hamstring pulsating with a throbbing pain. Like a dull toothache, the hamstring injury I sustained in May would not let go. It made no difference to stress about it however, as I was resolved to toe the line and see how the race unfolded. My running mentor and friend Jason Romero told me to just focus on each aid station and have the goal of completing the race while adjusting to pain one step at a time.

102 Miles and 20K feet of climbing in less than 35 hours. That was the goal.

Elevation Profile of Tahoe Rim Trail 100

Earlier that evening, I had run through the race plan with Julie and Laura, covering each segment of the race and things I would need along the way. While 100 miles of planning can be daunting, I knew once I passed along the plan to Julie, all I would have to do is focus on running. I had a light dinner consisting of a boring bowl of rice and a little chicken before heading to bed.

Explaining the race plan to Julie and Laura

 

Items in my Tunnel Creek Aid station bag

I never sleep well the night before a big event. It didn’t help much that our condo in Incline Village was somewhat noisy as people sat out on their balconies and chatted into the early morning hours. Tossing and turning, the clock eventually hit 3:15AM and I sheepishly rolled out of bed.

We quietly got dressed and left Laura sleeping in the condo and made the short 25-minute drive to the race start at Spooner Lake. No one was out on the road, and Lake Tahoe to our right was an abyss of blackness.

Arriving at the parking lot, racers were milling about. Headlamps illuminated the dense trees while their shadows bounced about the ground. I grabbed by hydration pack and headlamp and Julie and I made our way to the start.

Julie and I

 

Let's get going already!

There were 200+ athletes at the start line already, anxiously awaiting the time when the gun would go off. The stereotypical ultrarunner dudes with long beards and short shorts mixed in with the more normal looking runners you may see on a Saturday morning jaunt around your neighborhood. All were buzzing with energy.

Mentally, I was doing well, but I was not confident in the way things would unfold throughout the day given my missed training and injury. I just wanted to start running and find out. I seeded myself comfortably about mid-pack.

A short time later, the race director gave some last minute instructions, and counted down the last ten seconds before 5:00AM. 3-2-1   “GO!”

The race was underway.

I started out slow along with many other athletes. It almost felt like an uncomfortable slow jog at times, but I knew that was what I needed. The road is flat and wide for about a mile before the first single-track climb, so it was a perfect warm up. My hamstring was a bit tight, but it seemed to me moving okay and didn’t hurt which was a good sign.

The fire road eventually turns onto a single-track trail that climbs steady for several miles. I was slotted into a train that was moving steadily but not too fast, which was exactly what I wanted. I was happy to power hike for a while and lessen the impact on my leg. The sky was growing brighter, and after a while I was able to turn off my headlamp. The forest was lighting up with the morning glow. Smoke from the Yosemite fire unfortunately blanketed the trees with a haze, killing the sharp contrast of green.

The sunrise over Marlette Lake

I was surprised at how good I felt. At the top of the climb, the trail rolls for a bit and then drops down to the valley below and caresses the edge of Marlette Lake. I ran carefully downhill to the lake and then jogged along the fire road to connect over to Hobart aid station at mile 7.

I was holding right around a 13-14 min mile average to this point and it felt super comfortable. I passed right through Hobart to make my way up the next climb on the way to Tunnel Creek aid station.

The sky was beginning to brighten up with color, and as I neared the top of the climb, I could see a hazy Lake Tahoe off in the distance. The haze from the smoke was unfortunate, as I can only imagine how awesome the view would be on a clear day.

Grabbing some goodies at Tunnel Creek Aid

Moving steady, I made it to the Tunnel Creek aid station at mile 12.  I would be hitting up this aid station 6 times during the race and it was home to my drop bag. I was experiencing a little hamstring soreness and right achilleas pain, but I was in great spirits and saw Julie for the first time during the race. We made a quick hydration change, I grabbed some potatoes and made my way down the steep descent to do the 6-mile red house loop.

The drop down to Red House is significant. It is a 1,000+ foot drop in a little over a mile to the bottom. I took it easy and let gravity pull me down, but it is impossible not to get a little beat up on this downhill. Fortunately, the trail mellows a bit, you cross a few small streams and start a slow gradual climb up to the Red House aid station. I flew through this aid station and began to chop away at the gradual fire road climb out of the valley. This section is all runnable, so I ran steady this whole section to the turn back up the steep climb.

The climb out is not terribly long, but it is steep, so I used my trekking poles to get into a steady rhythm. I didn’t stop moving forward and I finally made it back to Tunnel Creek. It was starting to get a little warm out and my legs were starting to feel the normal fatigue I’d expect 18 miles into a race. My hamstring pain was gone, but I was starting to feel a dull pain in my left hip.

I saw Julie a second time, fueled up once again and left the aid station set on making the next climb up to Bullwheel.

Views along the way to Bullwheel

The climb to Bullwheel is a mix of rollers, steeper trail and gradual grade single-track that offers up some incredible views of Lake Tahoe and the valley down into Nevada. My hip was starting to throb a bit more, but it was still holding up as I made my way to the aid station.

Once I made it to Bullwheel, I drank a cup of coke and continued. I had another 8 miles to the next aid station, so I moved as steadily as I could. I was alone in the forest at this point since the pack spread out enough for me to run.

The 4.5 mile drop into Diamond Peak Aid was relentless and my hip was starting to really hurt. I resolved to a slow walk/jog down to the aid station wondering if I’d be able to make it the rest of the way. The pain was a bummer because everything else in terms of nutrition was spot on.

Not sure what was more of a relief, seeing the crew at mile 30, or being done with the downhill. Julie did some traction on my leg while Dan filled my hat with ice to prepare me for the hot notorious Diamond Peak climb. To be honest, I was not too worked up over the 2 mile 2,000ft vertical climb. Climbing was my strength, and my hip was not hurting on the uphills.



Heading towards the Diamond Peak Climb

Taking off out of the ski resort, I started to make my way up Diamond. I went at a steady pace all the way to the top without stopping. Several athletes around me had already detonated. People were sitting down, throwing up and crying as I made my way past. I offered words of encouragement as I could. My trekking poles really helped here.

View of Lake Tahoe on the way to Tunnel Creek

Cresting the top of the ski slope, vistas opened up to the east and the trail drops for a bit to the Bullwheel Aid station where I grabbed another cup of coke and kept rolling.

The routine continued for the next several aid stations. I was able to power the uphill climbs, jog the flats and then piercing hip pain on the downhills forced me to a walk. I took it one aid station goal at a time until I found myself climbing up past tree line to the course’s high point at Snow Valley Summit. The vistas up there were incredible, and a guy I had been with for a while named Jonathon snapped a photo for me. I never forget how blessed I am to be able to do this sport. Through the pain and low points, I feel like I did a great job of keeping it all in perspective.

Still smiling at 45

I had cell service at the top and texted Julie that I was really hurting and my goal was just to try and survive the 5 mile descent to mile 50. She texted me back words of encouragement and understanding and told me that my pace was still solid to be able to finish.

The run down back to Spooner Lake was hell. The pain was indescribable as I tried everything to make it go away. I found that if I turned my left foot outwards I could relieve some of the pain that was moving from my hip down into my IT band. I continued with this duck-footed downhill walk/jog and eventually, made it down to the flats.

Looking across Spooner lake, I could see the finish line and the ½ way point in the race. A mere 1.5 miles away, it still looked impossibly far, even though I could hear cheering and laughter from people posted up here. I was moving steadily though and stayed strong enough to make it to my crew and the ½ way point.

This was the apex of the race. I was ready to quit. In a world of hurt and tears I told Julie about my pain and that I could not endure 50 more miles of it. My whole crew was there including my friend Laura Dunn who had flown up to pace me on her husband’s birthday. She had a huge smile on her face and was bouncing ready to go.

Julie convinced me to take an Aleve which was a big no-no for me at most races, but I was peeing well and moving slow enough not to worry as much about my kidneys. I changed clothes and made a big exhale.

I had a big mental moment here.

“If I quit, I’ll always wonder if I could have made it” I thought to myself. “Can I make it 7 more miles? It’s mostly uphill which is good for me.”

I made it to the ½ way point in about 12 hours, giving me 23 hours to make it the second half.


Changed and "ready to go" with Laura

“Screw it,” I thought, looking at Laura bouncing up and down like Tigger. “Let’s go”

I forced myself out of the chair, wiped my tears, and started walking.

“Let’s finish this thing!” I said.  “We only have 7 miles to the next aid station” Laura said.

Running with Laura was like a breath of fresh air. I don’t know how someone can be as joyful and positive as she is, but she was perfect. Encouraging, funny but also serious when she needed to be. We found our rhythm easily.

Pointing out the scenery to Laura

The sun was setting to the west, Illuminating Lake Tahoe. We stopped for a quick photo, and so I could stretch out my hip a little. 



Sunset...

The aid stations seemed to roll by with Laura. We told stories and chatted about San Diego and the races there. Now under the glow of headlamps, we made our way down to Red House making a few friends along the way. In the dark, all I had to focus on were the 15 feet in front of me.

Laura was patient with me on the downhills and we moved as quickly as possible on the ups and flats. She helped me remember to eat and drink frequently. We made it out of Red House and I was still moving well on the climbs.

We ascended to Bullwheel and I mentally prepared for the grueling downhill to Diamond Peak aid.

The pain cave down to Diamond Peak Aid came on with a vengeance. I felt like I was hobbling down the slope at a snail’s pace. Runners were blowing by me at full speed as I struggled to take each pounding step downhill. My hip was screaming at me.

“How much further?” I asked Laura.

“Only 5K!” she cheered me on.

“Ugh….” I responded as 3 miles seemed impossibly far away.

Forever later, we made it to the Diamond Peak aid station. It was 3 in the morning and I was worked. Sitting down briefly, I complained to Julie of a few blisters and took in some calories. I was sleepy at this point as well and it felt like I could just crash out.

Hugging Laura and thanking her for her efforts, my next pacer and local Truckee runner Dan prepared to help me get to the finish. 20 Miles stood between me and the finish line and despite the pain I was in, I was not about to quit.

Hiking out of the aid station, Dan and I began to make our way up Diamond Peak. Through the fatigue, I felt okay climbing. Dan gave me a trick of spotting the drainage washouts and stopping at each for 4-5 seconds and then heading to the next one. We passed numerous people and made it to the top in less than an hour.

Everything was beginning to blend together for me at this point. Fortunately, Dan, having completed the race a couple of years ago, knew the course well and was able to narrate what we had left to the next aid station. My hip would not move well, so I had to resort to a fast power hike. I was trying to move at a sub-20 minute mile in an effort to steadily make progress.

Somewhere in my hazy state, we made it to Hobart right as the sun began to rise. We had 10 miles and the climb to Snow Summit between us and the finish line.

Making progress

Dan gave me a mental trick of counting to try and block out the pain. The idea was that different sides of your brain tap into pain and logic. When you count and do math, the mental processing shuts down the emotional pain sensory circuits in the brain. Surprisingly, the trick worked enough for me to shut down the pain when it started screaming at me.

Making it to Snow Summit, the local boy scout troop running the aid station offered up some sherbet. I graciously accepted a large scoop of raspberry sherbet. It tasted like heaven.

I was thrilled to be within 5 miles of the finish and knew that while the journey would take me some time, I would be able to get it done. Running the math in my foggy brain, I thought that if I could hold sub 20-minute miles to the finish, I would be able to break 30 hours on the race. While my main goal was just to finish within the 35-hour cutoff, the sub 30-hour goal gave me something to shoot for.

We painfully made it down the next descent. While not as bad as the run down to Diamond, the gradual slope was still tough on my hip. I still pushed where I could, and Dan did a good job of making sure I was drinking and eating.

We hit the aid station at the bottom of the hill a little before 10 AM. We had a little less than 2 miles to the finish.

Finish line across the Lake

You could see the tent across Spooner Lake and hear the cheers of fans there. Dan and I hurried as fast as possible around the flats. I could not wait to see Julie and cross the line.

Finally spilling out onto the dirt road leading towards the finish I spotted Laura down the trail. I waved and could hear the cheers spilling out of the tents.

The finishing shoot

Turning towards the finish, I spotted Julie, and to my surprise, Micah came sprinting towards me. I gave it one last little push and jogged across the finish line in 29 hours and 36 minutes. I was the last sub 30-hour finisher.

The love of my life

Collapsing into a chair in the finishing shoot, all the emotion of the race came out. I cried into Julie’s arms and let it all flow. With her help, and the aid of my pacers, I was able to push through the adversity and cross another finish line.

The prize

Victory

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Retrospect.

• While I went into this race battling an injury, I will not likely start another 100-miler with an injury. The risk of more significant injury is not worth it at this point in my life.
• My nutrition was spot on at this race. Tailwind worked well along with potatoes and some select solid food.
• Moving slower was key to feeling great to the finish. Despite the pain in my hip, physically, I felt great. I owe that to moving slower and not pushing the uphills as hard as I typically do. My 14-minute mile pace to the first aid station is a good benchmark to pace a race correctly.

Laura, Dan and I

• Good pacers are and will continue to be a large part of being able to perform well. Without Laura and Dan I would not have finished this race.

• I can do more than I think I can. If I would have quit at mile 50, I would have always wondered if I could have made it.
• For every trial I have in racing or in life, there are 1,000 people that would gladly change places with me and be happy to do what I am able to do. NEVER FORGET YOUR BLESSINGS.