Spot the Casualties - 2018 Quicksilver 100k

You will die like a dog for no good reason - Ernest Hemingway

That was a brutal day. It seemed like the suffering would never end. But enough about the day I told my wife I signed up for the Quicksilver 100k for Mother’s Day weekend 2018. The actual race would eventually come, meaning my feet would have to live up to my mouth.

A little context. Years ago, early in my foray into ultrarunning, I received an ominous email stating that I’d been selected off the waitlist and asking would I want to run the Quicksilver 100k, which would be my first run that far, just 10 days later. Staying true to my ultra runner motto,

Training is for sissies, real men go into events totally unprepared - Idiot ultrarunner

I manned up and ran my first 100k. Once again, I signed up months ago, and stopped training weeks ago. Another April wasted away surfing instead of running. Jumping from 8-10 miles to 62 should be okay, right?

I knew from mile 0.5 that starting the Quicksilver 100k was a dumb idea - Cat Bradley, QS100k and Western States winner

I ran this race totally screwed (sans crew). At least I got to sleep at home, but had to wake up at 3AM and drive myself to the start. The race start was pushed from 4:30 AM to 4:45, meaning I’d have to do math the rest of the day to know if I was on expected pace or not. Yeah, not going to happen. The delayed start at least gave us the opportunity to see some familiar faces. Mostly familiar headlamps, but some faces.

I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake - Ernest Hemingway

The climb out of Hacienda parking lot was its usual sufferfest, particularly predawn, post-yawn. Co-RD Greg Lanctot was at the cemetery doing his usual monkey dance. If that wasn’t going to scare away the ghosts then nothing would. I sure wanted to get out of there, embarrassed for my "friend".

Me, Spot and Marty McMartface, another casualty

From there we were to experience the new course. Heading into the Sierra Azul Open Space Preserve section of the course, this was the meat of this open faced sandwich run. With the new course, the first half has a near skyrace worthy 8,000 ft of elevation gain. We get three successive sustained climbs and descents of 2,000 ft each, more or less. We went up and down more than an Episcopalian on Easter Sunday.

Spot the aid station caption, Loren, at Woods

Twelve miles in, and we finally stopped climbing and got to descend for the first time. That feeling of welcome respite only lasted for a few minutes, maybe 5, maybe 30, but definitely not nearly the hour it took to descend to Lexington aid station. I was looking forward to a short walk on the road between trailheads here, but with local athlete and beautiful, single, female lawyer Amelia Boone directing traffic, I had to save face and run up road. Damn masculine pride.

Tasty Dogmeat. Delicious fog remained in background, photo: Sean McPherson

Mile 18, we began our second big ascent from Lexington. It’s a regrettably unforgettable 4 mile climb, netting 2,000 ft of ascent after accounting for a few steep descents, too, just for fun. The main course is the last ¾ mile climb that we call Dogmeat: steep, hot, and rocky. The sun beat down on us while we yearned for the deliciously cool ocean fog just out of reach coming over next ridge. Last year, I was told they had popsicles at the summit. This year, no popsicles. No popsicles. Again, no popsicles. My speedy friend, Anil, caught and then passed me at the summit while I only caught my breath (and then probably passed something). My glutes were sore from all the climbing but that would soon change because we had our newly added four mile -2,000 ft descent down to the Kennedy aid station. Wake up, quads. Time to get to work!

Gentle "rollers" 

We had an out-and-back descend/climb to the Kennedy aid station, allowing us mid-packers the opportunity to see how far behind the leaders we were. Very far. And we get to see them from the front instead of from behind. What a treat! Meg, Larry and Anil, whom I ran with earlier in the day, left the mile 26 Kennedy aid station shortly before I arrived. By the time I finally got to the turnaround, I saw my friend Jeff slumped in a chair felling not entirely "ensure" of himself. I hoped he would recover, but he wouldn't. He was the first casualty, I thought. Leaving the aid station, with the next 4 miles of climbing fresh in my mind, I savored every moment as my gluteus beyond maximus was called to duty (not doodie). I hurt my butt so hard, I'd say I wrecked 'em. From the still popsicle-free summit, it’s yet another 1.5 miles of “rollers”, a series of brief but delicious 25%+ ascents and descents to the also popsicle-free Woods aid station.

Time is the least thing we have of. - Hemingway

Now with 31 miles done in 7:20, we can get on to the easier half of the 100k, only 4,700 ft of gain. Here was my first chance to do some trail math. If I do the back half at the same speed, I could go sub-15 hours. I could end up going an hour slower and and still be under the Western States qualifier cut-off. I actually already have a qualifier this year, so I could take it easier and go yet another hour slower. That I could add 7.5 and 8.5 and do all this game theory with trail brain was probably my most impressive accomplishment of the day.

Spot the pig at the food stop

I ran down from Woods, soaking in several creeks along the way to Hicks, where I would make my only drop bag stop switching from backpack to handheld bottle. I had to take the next downhill section slowly although my race went downhill quickly. My quads were sore, I guess blown quads, and I had to tiptoe a lot of the single track to Hacienda. Worse, my tibialis was cramping on both legs. So I walked more than I really wanted to while approaching Mockingbird mile 44. The afternoon temps weren’t terrible, just mid-70’s, but warm enough to warrant a modicum of temperature control strategy. After Mockingbird, there is a lot more shade and single track than before though, so I knew the worst was over.

Spot the sunlight

Mockingbird is the end of both the 50k and 100k races, as well as mile 44. One has to ignore the bbq food and the party and the bbq food and continue. I was surprised that I “caught up” to Anil, although he was on his way out as I arrived. I left sooner than I expected but got delayed by Nina’s camera. Stay any longer and I’d get run over by the 100k winners. Rob Krar was course guiding after winning the 50k, so I had to run up the first section. I wouldn’t want him to think that some random old mid-packer was too lazy to run.

The second half of the race includes three significant climbs, a bit under 1,000 ft each. Leaving Mockingbird, we start the second of these through the shady woods to the ridge and Bull Run aid station in less than 4 miles. Even better than knowing that we now had only one hill left to climb, Mandie had popsicles! As if she needed to ask, one please. I started off running with Anil but lost him and KC on the steeper downhills that my quads and tibialis were not liking. On the gently rolling New Almaden trail with another runner, I recounted the close encounter I had with a mountain lion a week earlier on this trail. I spooked the lion and we had a stare-down from as close as ten yards. Since then, I said, I’d been more cognizant of animal noises, especially those uphill from me. Just as I told him that part, we heard a lot of rustling just above us. Fortunately, it was just deer. Would have been a lot funnier if it was a lion.

Spot the reservoir

Arriving at the penultimate aid station, McAbee, I caught Anil again and we discussed our strategy. About 8 miles to go, over 2 hours to the 16 hour Western States cutoff, one hill to climb. Veteran ultrarunner Jim Magill told me the key to keep going was left-right-left-right. Of course, I had it all backwards. I’d been going right-left-right-left all day. Anyway, I trail-mathed 20 minute per mile average is all that was needed, and we could walk the entire way.

chihping - verb. To put in just enough effort to finish before the cutoff

Yeah, I planned on chihping it in. To be fair, I think Chihping does it more valiantly from the other end, putting in extraordinary effort at the end of races to beat the clock. I’m doing it from the lazy end, giving the least amount of effort, using up all my cushion (syn. satpaling?). Well, Chihping and I have both been to college and both strategies work, right?

Spot, don't admire the sunset too long! Half-mile to finish!

In the end, I wasn’t altogether that lazy. I ran some, using a 5:1 run-walk ratio (running one minute, walking ~10 seconds), and walking the steeper sections. My quads weren’t having a good time with the steeper downhills. I let Anil go for the final time at the last aid station with 3 miles to go as I pictured myself doing the slow motion walk in front of a sunset at the end of an action movie.

There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow men. True nobility lies in being superior to your former self. - Hemingway

In the end, I’m more than happy with the finish. I could have gone a few minutes faster, especially at the end, but not by much. My finish time was no better than it was 3 years ago, but on a much harder course. I survived this day when so many of my friends became casualties of the relentless heat, climbing and the distance (26% DNF, 38% not making WSQ cutoff). I don't have survivor's guilt. It was my mother’s day miracle.

And before my fingers tickle the keyboard to ultrasignup for another race, my next favorite Hemingway quote

Always do sober what you say you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.

Spot the idiot ultrarunner, photo: Nina Giraudo

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