Quicksilver 100km - Facilitating idiocy on a massive scale

Mt. Umunhum.

No, I did not get a job at Facebook. I'm merely talking about facilitating and in some cases inciting, encouraging and provoking the idiocy of ultrarunners. This was the weekend of Quicksilver 50k and 100km. Knowing that I needed the weekend off from my own running in order to foster my longer term idiocy, but really wanting to goad others into this realm, I took the weekend to volunteer and pace at our local big run.

I have to say, watching other idiots suffer is a form of supreme pleasure hard to match. Now I know why these races are full of volunteers. The volunteers should be paying us runners for their entertainment. They are getting bargain enterrainment. I got to help several of them sign in the day before. They were so innocent looking in their civilian clothes, so clean cut and presentable. By the time I would see them again at the 24 mile aid station, all would be in various states of self-destruction.

Drop bags. On long races, having a proper equipment, be it a change of clothes or gluten free vegetarian protein Chia-acai shake is imperitive. I transported and then organized the drop bags at our aid station. Some sample drop bags. A large duffle you could smuggle an immigrant inside. A plastic grocery store vegetable bag. A tupperware container. A little girl’s lunchbox. An unmarked juice bottle. I think I spotted a to-go carton from Panda Express. Only one of our smarter runners used a brightly colored ornament like many people do with their luggage. That’s right, folks. Your typical airline chattel is smarter than most ultrarunners. Taking the bags back to the start made me regret my choice of a closed in SUV versus a truck. I don’t know how much dirty laundry got left behind, or if a short runner passed out in the drop bag area and started decomposing. My car still smells, or at least I can deflect blame for the smell on the 30 minutes the bags spent in there versus the hours my post-run self is in there.

Aid station. The Lexington aid station comes after a lot of climbing and a quad busting 6 mile descent. The weather was predicted to be cool and cloudy, and it was. We could see clouds off in the distance, but the sun was shining intensely on the race course. Most runners were on the course 5 hours before they reached us. Some were still wearing jackets or long sleeves from the 4:30 AM start. I took great pleasure in seeing many friends pass through sweating and suffering. When we gave them ice water, something that restaurants give away for free, it was like we found their G-spot. Many of the runners did not know what was in store next - the infamous Dog Meat, a section of trail that makes the legs of local trail runners quiver in fear. Many places are named for historical figures or what the landscape resembles. Few are named for what they do to your legs - turn them into dog meat. But we were able to send them off with a hint of optimism, 6.3 miles to the next aid station, there’s some downhill, …. but it’s mostly 2,500 ft. uphill. Ha ha ha!

Pacing and pre-pacing began at mile 42, which also acts as the finish line. I watched many 50km runners and the top 100km runners finish long before my runner, Ramiro, came in. In the meantime, I got to help many of those suckers, I mean runners, twice. By then, 10 to 11 hours in, many were delirious, wondering if they’d been going in circles when they saw me again. I guess I’m more memorable than the trail.

A year and a half ago when I met Ramiro, his bucket list goal was to run 30 km. During his exposure to yours truly, his greater idiot had talked him into 50 km, 50 miles and now 100km. As gullible and aquiescent as he was, I felt responsible to make sure my Marine brother did not die out there on the trail. So I paced the final 20 miles with him. Those final 20 miles were tough, not just for Ramiro, but also for me. He’d “busted his quads” - I still don’t really know what that means other than he was walking down hills, but running up hills. Sure, I was fresh and I could run up hills, but regardless, I’d still been up since 3 AM. We barely made the penultimate cut-off, two minutes ahead of 6:30 PM at Tina’s Den on the far side of Almaden Park. All we had to do was return 9 miles up and over the mountain back to the finish in 3 hours. After Tina’s Den, Ramiro’s climbing legs were toast. We ran what few flat sections were left but walked most of the remainder. I wasn’t sure we would make either the 16 hour Western States cutoff or the race’s 17 hour cutoff, but he dug deep, grabbed a pair and grunted out to finish in 16:35, earning a 100 km belt buckle.

In all seriousness, it was a great day, seeing friends, people we like to think we’re friends, people who like to think we’re friends, runners who we have 20 common Facebook friends, meeting legends like Krissy Moehl and John Trent, and assisting in a small way in helping many friends and future friends finish their races and celebrating with them. Whether it’s their first or fiftieth 100 km, it’s still a tough distance over a very challenging course. Congratulations to my friends, Ramiro, Anil, Jim, Cece, KC, Kowsik, Keith, Ellen and Ashley, double idiots who did Canyons 100k last week, Satpal and Stacie, and sincere thanks to future legendary race director, John Brooks.

Mid-race stretch. What a view of Silicon Valley!

Gorgeous sunset and cloud on Mt. Umunhum

The final ascent!

Obligatory post-race beer mug photo. Heretic Evil Cousin - as tasty as Pliny but more acessible.