3 months after running Western States, I am finally posting the blog. Every time I sat down to write this, I would get really emotional thinking about the different points in the race and all the people who had a part in it, and I would have to take a break from writing.
Instead of giving you a play by play of every little thing that happened during the race, I’m going to give you my most significant, most memorable points (which as it turns out, is a lot of it, lol). I will say that running Western States as my first 100 miler was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and although there are more reasons behind that than just the race itself, I can elaborate on that in another blog piece.
Here are some pre-race day before pictures:
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| Kevin, Stan, and I...100 miles here we come! |
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| Brian, Stan, Jimmy, Kevin, Crispin, and me. Grubbing. |
RACE DAY.
2:50AM:
The time I finally just rolled myself out of bed, because I obviously wasn't able to stay asleep for longer than 2 minutes at a time.
3:45AM:
Get to Olympic Village and do pre-race check-ins and weight check with medical. When Brian, Kate, Katie and I first get there, there is a decent amount of people already there, and the place is buzzing. Within the next 15 minutes and up until the race start, the village is growing with this crazy energy and people with all of their excitement – friends taking video and pictures, hugs, good lucks, kisses, and just pure positive energy flowing. It is an incredible feeling to be around all these people who are about to run a 100 mile race; the uncertainty of things to come, how they will feel, what will happen, and if they will finish. It also can't be forgotten or downplayed the incredible feeling to be around ALL the crew/support/friends/family who were out there, wondering about all the things they would have to face to get their respective runners to the finish line.
4:50AM:
Start walking with Stan and Kevin over to the starting line. I am so nervous, but looking over at Kevin, I realize he has suddenly become about 100 times more nervous than myself. So I feel a little bit better. (Sorry Kev, lol.) We each have a moment with our awesome coach and friend Jimmy Dean Freeman, who has played a huge role for the both of us since the beginning of our quest and love of ultrarunning....and then, with a loud and energetic countdown, we are off!!
5:00AM:
All of us begin to hike (with the exception of a handful of people who run at this point) up this steep incline at the very beginning of the race. We climb about 2,550 feet in just 4 miles. We hit snow at a certain point, and I am REALLY thankful for my brand new
compression socks that
Zensah hooked me up with because they felt amazing and really kept my legs warm through a whole lot of cold snow. Plus, they were pink, and really cute. We runners make a train and trudge through the snow together, which is a very cool and fun experience in itself. Not one person didn’t fall during this time…lots of sliding around, sliding down hills on our butts, falling over, helping each other up (at one point a few of us made a human chainlink to help up a man who’d slid downhill), and for me lots and lots of hiking. (I’d been battling some bad foot flexion pain for the few months leading up to states, and there was no way I was going to start my race of aggravating it!)
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Brian & Kate goofing off after the race start
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| Happily climbing in the snow |
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| Beautiful morning climbing up to Escarpment |
8:54AM:
Because of all my hiking (very minimal running) through the snow, I didn’t get to Talbot Aid Station until nearly 4 hours later, and I’d only traveled 13 miles. I’d felt as though I’d gone 40 miles. Awesome! Within the miles to come, I tried to run much more since I was way behind schedule, and there were some interesting things to come. There was an awesome single-track trail running alongside the lake that was absolutely spectacular. The weather started getting warmer, and I was really pleased with the fact that my
compression socks didn’t feel like they were getting too hot. We wound through some trails and came out onto a highway road for a little bit, and I was surrounded by a couple of monarch butterflies who flew with me while I ran. This was pretty cool, and I was starting to wonder why they didn’t just fly away after a few seconds as butterflies normally do. After a good 15 minutes of running together, my two spirit guides flew away, and I was left with a huge smile on my face. As we approached another trail, the weather continued to heat up, and soon came one of my LEAST favorite sections of this whole race. Climbing up out of Duncan Canyon, YUCK. We can skip reminiscing through all that misery, right until I made it up very slowly out of the canyon and wondered to myself multiple times “at this rate, am I really going to be able to finish 100 miles?!” I went through the weigh-in at the aid station, sat down to eat (they must’ve known this was a tough canyon because there were 4 chairs set up underneath a tent, and volunteers practically waiting on us they were SO freaking AWESOME!), and Stan came walking up. Stan?! Stan was pretty far ahead of me and a stronger runner, so I was surprised to see him. He said he was feeling so awful he needed to lay down for close to 20 minutes just to recover. He soon took off, and inadvertantly motivated me to move more quickly past the station since the weather wasn’t getting any cooler and I felt I wanted to move quickly past the next few miles until I got to a more enjoyable part of the course. A volunteer filled my handkerchief so chock full of ice, that I began to cool down immediately. THANK YOU VOLUNTEERS!!!!!
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| Coyote Crew forces UNITE! (chilling until they can see their runners at mile 55) |
2:20PM:
I get to Dusty Corners and am feeling alright (still trying to pick up speed without killing myself), and eat a couple of Oreos before I turn around and see Stan again. He is sitting in a chair and tells me he wants to quit. I say “NO WAY” and remind him about some advice that was given in one of the Western States films we watched the previous night about waiting until it gets dark because that’s when it starts to finally cool down and you are able to catch a second wind. He encourages me to keep running and not to wait on him. I tell him I’m not going to go unless he promises me he’ll keep going. I tell him he better catch up with me. And so I continue, and through the next few miles I send him good energy and hope he keeps on running.
4:19PM:
It’s mile 43.8 and I am grateful to be at the Last Chance Aid Station. The people here volunteering are so nice, and I don’t mind to sit in a chair for a second and eat some food. I linger. I am not realizing that I’m 19 minutes behind the 30 hours cut-off, and just less than an hour ahead of the final cutoff…
Going from Last Chance towards Devil’s Thumb starts off nice & fun, but quickly starts to get to my foot. The long continuous downhill would have been really nice for me to gain some time again, but instead I had to take it slow so that my foot wouldn’t get completely aggravated. It was here that people flew by me. I saw Shannon Farar-Griefer and she looked phenomenally fresh. I stopped counting how many people passed by me here, but it must’ve been over 20. Climbing up to Devil’s Thumb was one of my lowest points of the race. I was exhausted and the switchbacks and steep terrain really lowered my spirits. Every turn I thought was the top, and I stopped numerous times ready to sit and quit. But I kept going. When I reached the top and stepped on the scale, I couldn’t speak because the tears just started spilling out. A nice lady took me and gave me a popsicle, which immediately made me feel better - yes, running 100 miles may bring out the 5 year old in you. Then she had her daughter (who’d run the race before) sit and talk with me, which was so sweet. I tried my best to swallow the tears that wouldn’t stop coming, and just kept saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m trying not to cry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” But I did know why. Because this was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life, and I was only half way done. In the middle of me feeling sorry for myself, and older man came up to me and demanded I leave the aid station. When I tried to fight back and say that I thought eating was important, he retorted, “Would you rather eat that popsicle or have a nice, shiny, belt buckle??!!!” I sauntered off, sobbing harder than ever.
6:00PM:
It takes me about 15 minutes to completely quit feeling sorry for myself (I wanted to do this race, remember?!!) and stop my pathetic tears from falling down my face. It was at this point I thought of all the amazing people in my life who wanted me to accomplish my dream of running 100 miles, and who contributed time and money for the cause. No, I was not going to let everyone down. No way in hell.
Once I started running again, I felt pretty good. I picked up a little speed and enjoyed the course on the 5.1 miles until El Dorado Creek. I made a friend, Sam, and he and I pushed each other uphill towards Michigan Bluff. We both wanted to finish this race, and we wanted to make it to Michigan Bluff before it got dark (neither of us had flashlights on us). He was a godsend for me. There was no way I would have gone that quickly and painlessly uphill if I didn’t have him to talk with (let's be honest, it was not quick and painless, but compared to what we'd just been through it was). As we were nearing Michigan Bluff, lo and behold the best coach in the world, Jimmy showed up with a big smile on his face and hiked the rest of the way with us.
8:38PM:
I finally arrive at Michigan Bluff, which is a sight for sore eyes!! Jimmy was obviously there, Kate, and Erin too. I got some chicken and rice broth (did I mention who awesome this stuff is during a long race?!), and they fixed me up with headlamp and cold weather clothes, and the best surprise ever – Erin was going to pace me until Bath Road! I hadn’t been planning on that, but since I got there so late and it was dark, they were allowing pacers. And thank god for that too, because it turned out to be one of the loneliest stretches where we’d be running for 30 minutes or more at a time without seeing anyone. Erin (my Caswooka cousin) was a fantastic pacer, and we had a good time getting supremely grossed out by these nasty, large, black worms crawling around.
Getting to Bath Road was even more exciting, because there was Katie & Jimmy again, ready to walk with me up to Foresthill. I was already in so much pain at this point, quads shot, blisters forming on my feet, but was so elated to see the crew, that I had nothing but a big smile on my face. Not to mention, Brian would be waiting for me at Foresthill. Jimmy was so sweet, he called Brian and put him on speaker to let him know I was heading that way.
All the aid stations through the night are a blur to me. Katie led me, and I may as well have been blind (although maybe she was, because she was the one who kept tripping over roots and rocks). I honestly regard Katie as a sort of savior after the night run we had together. I will sum it up with a little simulation of our exchange:
KATIE: Great job June, you’re awesome. Can you run this section?
JUNE: Yes, let me run a bit. Oh shoot, I need to tape my feet at the next aid station. They’re really hurting. Everything hurts.
KATIE: Okay. I know everything hurts. You're doing great.
JUNE: Awesome they duct-taped my feet, I feel better now.
KATIE: Yes, I can tell, you’re running faster! But now I have to tell you that you’re 20 minutes behind absolute cut-off time, so we really need to pick up the pace.
JUNE: …..what does that mean? Will they make me stop running?
KATIE: Yes.
JUNE: Oh, shit. Oh, no. Ok. Ok. I can do this. I can do this. Let’s do this.
Katie pushed the hell out of me through the night. After one 3 mile section, I felt like I was going to collapse or hyperventilate or puke, I don’t know which. I had a momentary breakdown, but was able to snap out of it. It was through the night, with Katie, that I realized
I COULD RUN 100 MILES. And it was also through the night where I realized that even though I knew now that I could do it, if I didn’t beat all the cutoffs, I wouldn’t be allowed to finish. I made a conscious decision that I was going to fight – to fight the hardest that I possibly could to finish the damn race. With or without a belt buckle, I was NOT going to get pulled. Thank you Katie, for helping me to believe this. To
really believe this.
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| Fighting to Believe |
(Oh, and somewhere along the way Stan passed me, which I was SO HAPPY to see and gave me a surge of energy!!)
4:25AM:
Katie and I arrive at Rucky Chucky. As we come off the single track onto the fireroad, we can see the boats from afar, and I am so happy and excited to be there. Mile 78.1. The volunteers help me onto the boats, and because my quads are so shot, every step down is pure agony. But an agony in heaven, because here we’d somehow made it to Rucky Chucky
35 MINUTES AHEAD OF ABSOLUTE CUTOFF.
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| Me & Katie chilling on a boat at Rucky Chucky |
5:09AM:
Katie and I make it to Green Gate. I get to walk with Brian up to Green Gate, because him and Erin came down to meet us part way. I am nervous while talking to Brian, because I know I’m just flirting with cutoff times. But as usual, I am just elated for a kiss and hug. Katie and Kate make a pacer change here, and Kate and I start running together as the sun is coming up and a new day is beginning. Or, in my eyes, a very long day is continuing.
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| Happy again |
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| Kate is a true friend...taking some unneeded "items" out of my pack. |
I try to maintain the same pace Katie and I were running, because I know that if I continue that way, I should make all the cutoffs (I know this because this is what Katie told me, lol, do you really think my brain is THAT sharp at this point?). But somehow, some of the cutoff times seem much more aggressive. Kate is tougher on me than Katie, but I didn’t know at first that she made it her goal to have me beat the 30 hour runner cutoff (thank you, Kate!). We have fun running because it’s a beautiful new day, the trails are glorious in the morning light, and Kate's energy is contagious.
6:51AM:
We get to Auburn Lake Trails and are only 9 minutes ahead of absolute cutoff. WTF?!?!!!!?!?! I am in shock. I need to fix the duct tape on my feet because they have shifted and are cutting into my toes, but the aid station dude and Kate both tell me I need to keep going. So sadly, I do. But not without grabbing a danish first. I love breakfast food at aid stations! I start freaking out, asking Kate what happened, because we were going at a good pace, and how did we lose so much time, etc. etc. Kate somehow calms me down, saying that since there were adjusted aid stations it probably has something to do with the new snow course (she probably just made that up to stop me from totally flipping out), etc, but don’t worry we’ll be back on track. She then gives me her time goals for me for the next few aid stations, which was a really great technique for me. As I previously stated, I made the decision to give it my all so I could just finish the damn thing, so I ran my buns off to make Kate’s time goals for me, and tried even to beat them if I could.
8:04AM:
We get to Brown’s Bar just under Kate’s time goal, and I am nervous as hell so I grab a coke (that’s all I’m eating now because I don’t have time), and continue on. Kate is stoked to be at Brown’s Bar with the drunk dudes, so she hangs with them for a second. I am glad she can enjoy it, and swear to myself next time I run Western States I will make sure I can hang with the crew at Brown’s Bar longer. The weather starts to get warm at this point, and I’m struggling a bit whenever we hit an open stretch in the sun, or have to do serious hiking.
KATE: Come on, June, more running, less walking! Pump your arms!
JUNE: I’m trying….
KATE: Okay, just breathe, deep breaths….
JUNE: ……
Needless to say, it is kicking my ass, all this faster running and trying to beat cut-off times. Good job Kate, way to work my tired butt.
9:05AM:
Highway 49 I am SO LUCKY I get the surprised of my whole freaking crew there!!! Erin, Katie, Brian……I am so happy to see everyone. I weigh in and take a whole 3 minutes at the aid station, because I am 5 minutes behind 30 hour cutoff time now. AGH!!!!! I grab a coke and try to swallow a salt tab, but gag several times. It’s too hot now, and I’m having a hard to eating/drinking. BUT, I am refreshed after seeing everyone, and with only 6.5 miles to go, the end is in sight….
Shortly after we get to the No Hands Bridge checkpoint (mile 96.8) we bump into Tim Twietmeyer. He is so encouraging and really wants me to finish in under 30. He roots for me and tells me I can do it, but I can't stop.
10:34AM:
We get to Robie Point, mile 98.9, and I am starting to freak out. What if I don’t finish? I am so close, I’ve got to do it, I’ve got to! I am one minute ahead of the 30 hour cutoff. And ALL OF MY FRIENDS are there with one mile to go, including Tim Twietmeyer, and everyone runs (or fast walks?) with me down the road, around the track, and I finish the last 200 meters floating on AIR. I am so happy, I can’t describe it. I can’t believe I’m at the finish line. I can’t believe what it took to get there. I did it. It can be done. 29:50:54. Bronze Western States belt buckle in hand.
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| Jimmy trying giving me some coke and dumping water on me to cool me down |
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| Coyote Love |
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| Cannot be described in words... |
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| Floating toward the finish line |
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| Finish Time: 29:50:54 |
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| Thank you, Brian, for being there with me. Wouldn't have been the same without you. |
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| Thank you, Jimmy, for EVERYTHING. |
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| Thank you, EVERYONE, you know who you are, for helping me get here. |
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