Spot the Ultra-idiots. Running a fatass 100 miles on the Western States Trail

Of all the dumb ideas in all the ultra runners the world, this one walks into mine – something Humphrey Bogart might have said if he were an ultrarunner.

At the risk of encouraging copy cats, I’ll share the latest dumb things I did knowing that the universe of ultra runners is actually quite small and even fewer are stupid enough to follow suit much to the relief of their otherwise soon-to-be surviving family members.  I’ll keep it brief though because some things should remain a mystery that needs to be personally experienced.

As a NorCal ultrarunner, this past December, like on too many numerous previous Decembers, the anticipation of the Western States 100-mile Endurance Run lottery turned from excitement, to disappointment, to relief and back to excitement as missing out on another lottery meant that I could seek other adventures. So if you can’t tell by now, a few of us endeavored to run (most of) the Western States trail fatass style, that is, outside the confines, luxury and support of an official event. No medics, no safety patrol, no buckle, no t-shirt. Then again, no cutoffs, no fees, no drama. That's a whole lot of no’s, you know?

Logistics and the route

Like a lot of bad ideas of late, this project was born out of a simple suggestion buried deep on a Facebook comments thread. Kevin Moore, Anil Rao and I solicited several other potential runners and discussed ideas for a 2-day trip overnighting at a hotel in Foresthill, date of the run, pacers, 50k-100k partial runners, using cars as drop bags, satellite beacons, unknown snow levels, water availability, managing the river crossing, crew support and more. In the end, the plans weren’t finalized until just a few weeks prior. I usually half-ass my way through these fatass runs, but in this case, I put in my full ass worth of effort.

In the end, it came to us three original runners, with my loving and incredulous wife, Martha, providing main crew support, along with Rajeev Patel’s generous donation of his weekend.

The route mostly follows the Tevis Cup and Western States trail. We loaded a gpx of the WS100 course onto Anil and Kevin’s watches, paper map and compass for me (I was old school when old school was just school). The trails are actually fairly well marked and I’d run all but 20 miles of it at some point. The river crossing was nixed. We didn’t know what time of night/day we would arrive, nor what the water levels would be. An alternate route was found, albeit a bit shorter but no less challenging.

Part 1 – Prerun, the summit and the ridge

A must-see for ultrarunners is the Auburn Running Company where we got some last minute gear but also got to view some WSER memorabilia. The timing of our run coincided with Broken Arrow in Squaw Valley, where we got to mingle with the great minds of the sport, Ethan Veneklassen, Broken Arrow RD, and legend Scott Jurek, 7-time winner of WSER.

Saturday morning. Run day. One of the benefits of a small fatass run is that you start when you start, not on a schedule. We held a prayer for our run and for our departed and ill friends (you know who you are, and if you don’t know who you are, know that I know who you are). I don’t know about the others, but I would celebrate the next 30-odd (very odd) hours as a celebration of life even if I feel like death warmed over. I think we started around 6:40 AM. The sun was already up. A little misdirection as the gathering crowd awaited the start of the Broken Arrow 52k and the three of us inauspiciously departed up the escarpment with nary a witness.

The mantra in most ultras is “don’t think of the whole distance, it’s just one aid station at a time”. In this case, our first aid station was 30 miles out! Not knowing if any water would be available before Duncan Creek (~mile 26) nor how hot it would be (80F?), I carried as much as I could, 4.5 liters, along with an ultrarunner’s medical kit and emergency supplies (ace bandage and emergency blanket) and other accoutrements weighing something like 14 pounds! The weight, the altitude, possible illness really doomed my early run. What I thought would be a fun descent from Emigrant Pass to Duncan was mostly rolling, i.e., climbing, rocky and technical, single track that I found difficult to get into rhythm. Man, I am getting too old for this shit.

But true to form, in ultrarunning, if you’re feeling like crap, don’t worry, you’ll get over it.

Part 2 – The Canyons

Martha patiently waited at Robinson Flat before she finally got to use the line that she’d been formulating for the 3 hours we were behind schedule, “What’s the matter with you, Marine?” I didn’t know. Ten hours since we started. I had no specific pains, no blisters, no cramps, another litany of no’s, especially, no energy. Taking a long break with her support made all the difference though. Plus I was able to ditch my heavy pack and pick up trekking poles. I love these poles. I don’t know why WSER doesn’t allow them. Is it to confuse the Europeans? “Vat do ve do with our arms while running? Play ze ukulele?”

We left Robinson ready to take on the race track descent into the canyons. Normally, this is the hottest part of the day. As we started late and got delayed on the ridge, we descended the canyons as the afternoon cooled into evening. It would be another 18 miles, nearly 6 hours, before our next aid station, including the dreaded Devil’s Thumb climb. While the initial 14 miles went smoothly, by mile 47, my quads were shot and unable to handle the steep descent to Swinging Bridge. It was getting dark too. I"m getting even more older for this shit.

The darkness made for some interesting times. 10PM, no moon, and climbing Devil’s Thumb. The steep climb hit my sleepy eyes, which could only see a few yards ahead of me. An hour and 1.4 miles later, I was surprised to find that I’d finally reached the summit!

By the time I reached Martha, now joined by Rajeev, I was totally spent. With the slog up the thumb, I wasn’t sure I had much left in me. Rajeev insisted that I at least go to Michigan Bluff, 8 miles away. Even with trail brain, I knew two things. First, don’t drop coming into an aid station, if you're going to drop, drop leaving. Food and rest can work wonders. Second, on this course, if I make it to Michigan Bluff, it’s a relatively easy trek to Foresthill and at least mark 100km. And if I make it to Foresthill, I might as well run the downhill/flats to Rucky Chucky. And if I make it to Rucky Chucky, I have to climb out of the canyon anyway. And if I climb up Driver’s Flat, I’m nearly done, so I might as well finish. And so Martha and Rajeev gave this mouse a cookie and I soldiered on.

Somewhere between Michigan Bluff and Foresthill, I was sleepwalking again. Anil turned and asked if I’d be up for a nap. He had me at “na”. We took a 10 minute nap on the trail, followed up wth another longer nap at Foresthill. Ah, the benefits of a fatass run with no cutoffs.

Part 3 – The final 38

Good morning! We arrived to Foresthill in the dark as daylight was nearly starting to break. While packing my supplies, I left it all on the trail. That is, the thought of ingesting more gels emptied my stomach. Having done the needful, we left with a renewed vigor. Hell, if you’re not running to organ failure, you’re not trying hard enough!

Another long section, 16 miles to Rucky Chucky. Our revised schedule might even allow our crew to meet us at the river before our climb, but we wouldn’t know until we got there ~4 hours later. We had to mentally prepare for an extra 2 mile climb. But I was feeling much better than I did on Saturday – still no soreness, cramps, or unusual pains.

Pieces just fell together in time all weekend, the weather, Rajeev’s incredible support, timing. Martha and Rajeev were indeed at Rucky Chucky. She got my message for a “BF sandwich”, which she knew could not be “Big F’in Sandwich!” but probably breakfast. She also wisely brought me coffee and banana f'in bread. With more food and the last long segment done, we were looking forward to finishing the final 18-20 miles.

It was now 10AM. The fire road climbing Driver’s Flat was baking us but it was modest and not too steep. High temps that day only reached mid-70’s and I didn’t really have to worry about sunburns as I was coated in a protective layer of dust from the previous day and night’s run.

The final few miles went off without a glitch. We arrived at Placer High to the roaring cheers of our adoring fan (singular) as Rajeev had to make his way home earlier in the afternoon. With hardly any fanfare at all, it was all over as simply and unassumingly as it had begun. 100 miles, more or less, 34 hours, more or less, and what an adventure!