Subject: AC100 report Date: Mon, 09 Oct 2000 09:04:43 -0700 From: mschoeck@uci.edu Hi everybody: I tried to write a race report about my first 100-miler a week ago. I'm coming to the conclusion that I am not very good at this, the result is a bunch of disconnected sentences more than anything else. But hey, no can do any better, so here it comes anyway. Matthias -- Matthias Schoeck Department of Physics and Astronomy University of California, Irvine phone: 949-824-3013 fax: 949-824-2174 mschoeck@uci.edu http://sirius.ps.uci.edu/~mats/ I had always imagined that I wouldn't run my first 100-miler until I felt trained and ready for it. But then, I didn't follow that rule for my first marathon and first ultra either, so why should I for my first 100-miler? When I learned in May that I was going to move to Irvine, CA in August (I was living in France at the time), it only took me a few weeks to decide to sign up for the Angeles Crest 100 at the end of September. No reason to start with an easy one, or was there? At the time I was just getting back into running after an injury that had taken me out for 10 weeks, so I hadn't exactly done any high or even medium mileage training. But hey, I'd have 4 month to get up to the distance. Well, ok, so I also had an international move, starting a new job, etc. to deal with, but those are technicalities, right? To make this short, until race day I hadn't done anywhere close to the training that I would have liked to have done. I was also pretty tired from non-running-related things happening in the last couple weeks and I seemed to have caught a cold that kept me awake for parts of the last two nights before the race. On the positive side, I had been over the entire course in training runs during the last 6 weeks which was both comforting and scary. I knew what was ahead of me and where to pay attention so as not to get lost (which would have been really hard on race day on a very well marked course), but I also had some idea of how hard it was going to be. Sarah, my girlfriend and crew, and I arrived in Wrightwood around 10:30 on Friday morning, Sep 29. The check-in was easy and friendly, I got to say hello to a few people who I had met during training runs, and everybody's blood pressure was much higher than what's normally considered healthy. The rest of the day was nice and relaxed (the first one in a long time) and went by quickly with race preparations, the trail briefing, and the pre-race dinner. We stayed at a private residence in Wrightwood that night - really nice people (like everybody else we met at the race; and my memory leaves me as for the spelling of their names, so I better don't try) who let us and another couple have their guestrooms for the night. 3:15 came early and there was plenty to do to get ready for the 5:00 a.m. start. I had decided to start out as slowly as I possibly could. People always said that I shouldn't run the uphills but powerwalk them. I agree in general, but I've always found that powerwalking wears me out way too quickly and that slow walking is the way to go for me on steep or long hills. I leave the power part for those guys up front. And still, I'm faster than a handful of other people. Maybe I just don't know what powerwalking is. Or maybe that handful just really got the slow walking part down. The race starts immediately with the first long uphill, 2150 ft up to the Pacific Crest trail, so it was walking from the beginning. I said hello to Sena Hoodman and Bill Ramsey whom I had met at local training runs in the Irvine area. They were moving ahead and I never saw them again. I then walked for a mile or so with Hans-Dieter Weisshaar who was doing his 17th 100-mile race this year at AC and introduced me to Kevin Sayers as we were walking along. I had met Hans-Dieter the day before. He's an extremely nice guy and gave me all kinds of good advice. All that happened during the first mile of the race. I met tons of other people later on, but I don't remember many of the names any more. The first quarter of the race went by without great excitement. I walked the uphills and tried to run slowly on the downhills and flats. Sarah did a great job taking care of me at the aid stations. We had worked out a plan of what I wanted at which aid station, but obviously it was all based on guessing since I had never done a race like this before. It turned out that my hydration plan was pretty good but that I need to work out some better ideas for food. I had Gu and Hammergel which I was eating regularly. For solid food I was relying mostly on bars (Harvest and Clif bars) and on anything that would look good at the aid stations. The problem was that nothing, including the bars, ever really looked good and I just didn't eat enough. At Vincent Gap (mile 13), the climb over Mt. Baden Powell starts. I loaded up 150 oz of water into my Camelbak for the 12 mile section (yes, I need that much) to Islip Saddle, grabbed a sandwich from Sarah, and took off, walking slowly up the hill at the back of a big group. I managed to eat the sandwich, but I just didn't like food very much in general, so I didn't eat much else in the entire 3:16 hours that that section took me. I was feeling somewhat tired already at the end of this part, but I figured that was probably normal after 25 miles and 6000+ ft of elevation gain (that was the last altitude reading I had as my altimeter watch died just after the summit of Baden Powell). Yes, I'd like to feel all fresh this "early" in the race, but I guess I'd just covered a pretty hard marathon and I would be alright. Overall I was still doing fine when I reached Islip saddle where the first medical check was located. I weighed in at 2 pounds higher than the day before, showing that my hydration plan was working (even though part of the difference might be due to the scales). The section over Mt. Williamson to Eagle's roost was short and went by without problems. Problems started in the following 7.5-mile section, through Cooper Canyon to Cloudburst summit. You start by descending into the canyon, after which there follows a long and gradual ascent back out. It was afternoon by now and it was starting to get pretty warm. I made the mistake of pushing too hard through this section. I had a little chart with me which, among others, contained the intervals that the cutoff times allow you for each section. And even though I wasn't anywhere close to the cutoff at the time, I was getting too obsessed with the idea that I should be faster than the cutoff interval - which I ended up being, by about a minute, but I had worked much too hard for that and when I got to Cloudburst, I felt pretty crappy. I grabbed some potatoes and cookies and walked a good part of the following, mostly downhill section to Three Points (mile 42.7). I did managed to eat a Clif bar and felt a little better when I got to Three Points, but I still wasn't doing very well. I forced down a Coke, Sarah gave me another sandwich, and I was out of the aid station again. 2 miles later I had to stop and take care of a blister on the side of my right heel. I could have done that much more easily in the aid station, but I hadn't thought it was necessary yet. Another lesson learned: take care of blisters as early as possible. In general, I had quite a few problems with blisters during the race. Due to my lack of training, my feet weren't used to running as much as I would have liked. I had duct-taped my feet before the race which helped a lot for the first 40 - 50 miles. After that, well, my feet were on their own and in pain. The break I took after Three Points was the only time that I took care of my blisters. I always like that feeling when a blister pops... Next was the road up to the aid station at Mt. Hillyer. I was still not eating enough and by now this had upset my stomach enough that I didn't drink enough either. Mt. Hillyer was the first aid station where they had chicken noodle soup and it tasted great, but it just wasn't enough. By the way, I never came close to throwing up, my stomach just hurt and didn't like the idea of eating at all. I arrived at Chilao Campground (mile 52.8) just when it was getting dark. The next medical check was there. I weighed in 4 pounds low and was told that I was alright but should drink some more. Well, I didn't tell them that I had been 2 pounds up the last time and that I didn't quite agree with them. Chilao was the first time I sat down. Sarah did a good job getting food and drinks to me, but I still didn't feel like eating a lot. So I just grabbed my headlamp and was off into the night. The section from Chilao to Shortcut Saddle was an emotional rollercoaster ride for me. I knew I had gone more than halfway, but the thought of the distance still to be run was everything but comforting. The moon (only a couple days after new moon) with its dark side visible was beautiful for the first hour after sunset (as is the entire course). And overall I felt pretty bad. I was swinging back and forth between "I'm going to keep going anyway" and "I'm going to collapse from lack of energy and water if I keep going". When I reached Cloudburst at 59.3 miles, I was really afraid of doing some serious damage to myself because of my depleted state and sat down in an aid station chair with the intention of not getting up again. This was the point when having a crew really paid off for me. No, I wouldn't have dropped immediately if I had been by myself. I had 2.5 hours on the cutoff at the time, so there was no need to drop yet. But I would have just sat there and not done much to better the situation. Granted, the aid station crew (I learned after the race that that was Kent Holder and his team) did a great job (just as all the other volunteers), but they had other people to tend too. So Sarah and Jana, whom I had met on the Labor Day weekend training run and who was crewing for somebody else, did all they could to get food and drinks to me, make me eat all kinds of stuff that tasted great and nasty at the same time, and didn't let me drop. They also made me put on warm clothing as I was shivering pretty badly as soon as I sat down. I spent about an hour in the aid station before my mean crew chased me out again. The next 5 miles or so are all downhill on a dirt road and usually very runnable. But at least for the first half of that, I was feeling weak and sorry for myself and couldn't manage to run more than 100 meters at a time. And then everything changed. I assume that the food finally kicked in and that my body decided that it was useless to complain about the pain because it didn't get its way anyway. Suddenly I could run again (slowly, granted). I didn't even have any problems on the long climb up to Newcomb Saddle and started to pass some people here. I sat down for 9 minutes at the Newcomb aid station (mile 68, no crew access) and tried to eat and drink what I could. Then I was out again. The section from Newcomb to Chantry Flats was pretty difficult for me. It contains some of the more technical downhill running of the race and with my tired legs, I simply couldn't run a lot of it. This is the only section in which I used the bright beam of my headlamp to see more details. Everything else was easily doable with the low beam. The first hour of the course, all uphill, I even did entirely with a little Photon LED light. I then carried that light with me throughout the entire race as an emergency backup but I never needed it. Chilao finally came at 3:15 a.m. This was the last time I would see Sarah before the finish because all the remaining aid stations didn't have crew access. I sat down for about 20 minutes and she got everything I wanted or needed to me. I also changed shoes here, the only time in the race and probably not even necessary. The idea of dropping at Chantry never occurred to me. What was running through my head was "From here it's only pain and exhaustion and I know how to deal with those". My stomach problems had finally settled enough that they weren't an issue any more and my weight was back to the weigh-in weight. I left Chantry about 1.5 hours before the cutoff. The 3100-ft climb up Mt. Wilson was very hard in the dark. I took it slowly, trying to take it a half-hour at a time. I always told myself that after those 30 minutes I could lean against a tree or sit down on a rock and take a minute's rest. I never actually took that break, but it kept me going. Several people before and during the race told me that I should not go into my first 100-mile race, especially not if it's the AC, without a pacer. Well, I'm not opposed to the pacer concept in general and if I'll ever try to go for a "fast" (whatever that means in my case) 100-miler, I will probably have a pacer but in this case I never regretted not having one. I do like running by myself and I usually don't have problems keeping myself going when I get tired. Once I reached the Mt. Wilson toll road, Ken, who was pacing Todd (don't know the last names), tried to get me running again with them. Ken had been around at every aid station when I was there up to Shortcut and had always been asking how I was and trying to help. (I had met the two the day before the race. They are two of the great people I met out there.) When I let them go without following, Ken made some comment about "morning quads". Well, my quads were fine, relatively speaking, but my feet were hurting so badly from blisters at the time that they just didn't want to take any more pounding. But after a while, I starting running anyway and those feet just had to deal with it. I always find it amazing that blisters will start hurting a lot less after a while if you just pound them enough. It's probably a sign of nerve ends dying or something like that. I teamed up with Stan and we ran it in all the way to Idlehour (mile 83.8). At Idlehour I sat down and took my tights off that I had been wearing since Shortcut. It would have actually been warm enough without them but I didn't know that at the time and I had to take my shoes off (equipment error) to take them off, so I never did. I also left my light and a set of spare batteries in the drop bag and loaded up on food. It should be my last long (12 minutes) aid station stop and the last time I sat down before the finish. I met Stefan Schlett again here. He was one of the 6 Germans in the race (including myself) and Hans-Dieter had introduced me to him the evening before. He didn't have a good day and was going to run it in slowly, otherwise he should have been way ahead of me. From Idlehour, you go downhill a little and then comes the last long uphill of the race, 2000 ft to the Sam Merrill aid station at mile 89.2. The climb is less steep than long and it started to get warm again. Not much worth mentioning happened on the way up as everybody just seemed to be plugging along. Shortly before I reached the aid station I started to do some complicated maths in my head. If I'd leave the aid station quickly, I'd have about 2.5 hours to get it in under 31 hours. That would mean having to speed up significantly for the last 11.3 miles, but my legs were feeling "relatively fresh" now (apart from the blisters, but they'd just have to deal with it) due to the stomach problems mid-race and the resulting slow pace. I didn't sit down at all at the aid station, yelled "147 out" after a few minutes, and had exactly 2.5 hours to go for 31 hours. The rest of the way, I was running "hard" for the first time in the race. I was still making sure to drink enough and to eat my Gus and I took occasional walking breaks simply because I wasn't sure how long my current high was going to last. But overall I was moving along very well and passed a lot of people. I spent 2.5 minutes in the last aid station (Millard campground, mile 95.8) and kept going. I did not remember from the training run how far it was from the point you hit the paved road to the finish at 100.5 miles (and in fact, I'd never been to Johnson field itself), so I did not know if I'd make it in under 31 hours until I was there. I hit the finish in 30:58:10. Did the sub-31-hour finish matter to anybody else? Probably not. Did it to me? Not really, but it gave me something to shoot for during the last miles. It was great getting to the finish. This was my first 100-mile race and I learned a lot. I really liked the people I met, runners, volunteers, race officials, crews, ... A lot of people put a lot of effort into this race and I'm thankful that they enabled me to be there and beat up my legs for a little more than a day. It was a great experience and a great learning experience. The closest I came to saying "I'll never again ..." was "I won't enter another 100-miler until I am appropriately trained". But then, who knows when I'll change my mind on that. I will be back. I just don't know yet when and where.