Angeles Crest 100 2001 report by John Liebeskind Ken (KB for short) and I flew down to Ontario Airport on Thursday evening. On the flight down, we read many old race reports from Stan's run100s.com web site. After a late arrival, we drove about 4 miles past Wrightwood to a small campground. In the morning, we sorted our drop bags and went back to town for our weigh-in. Race headquarters was a few tables in the Community Center. The only challenge was standing still long enough to get a measurement while the rickety scale was trembling. Okay, I was a tad nervous, but not enough for that rock'n thing. Since running Western States in late June, I got in only four runs over 20 miles. In fact, during the last month I limited myself to 1 or 2 runs a week to keep my various injuries quiet. We saw a few familiar faces including akaBill who decided to enter at the last minute. We also met Rhonda and Stacey from Portland. I think I met them briefly at Squaw Valley in 2000, but know them from many postings on the Northwest Ultra List. We certainly have run with many of their other Portland running buddies. Rhonda was running. Stacey along with Rhonda's husband Bill were there to crew and pace. After completing our business, we had several hours until the required race briefing. Ken figured a haircut would help in the heat and we proceeded to look for openings at all five of the local salons. In this town of 3000, they were all booked with what seemed to be retired ladies getting fancy doos. (It didn't help that Anne-Marie stopped working since her mom got sick and moved in with her.) We went to the local Coffee House that akaBill recommended. (It was that, pizza, or the grocery store.) We were lucky to get seated as two of the ten tables were reserved for a birthday party. We later saw the party girls come in, all with the most perfect hairstyles. The trail briefing was late and slow moving. Most of the elite runners knew to skip it while half the crowd left before it ended. About everything they said was already covered in the info book. We did get to hear the Wrightwood mayor and the Chamber of Commerce president list the local restaurants several times. But it was the announcement by Hoss, owner of the Mountain House, that attracted us to their Paper-Plate Pasta special. Back at the campground, we got to bed by 8:00, allowing almost a full night's sleep before the alarms went off at 3:30. The deep horn from a fire engine started the race at 5:00. The first half-mile winds its way through town. A few people sat on their porches in the darkness to cheer us on. Once on the trail, we went up long switchbacks in the darkness. Once on the PCT, the route follows a ridge, passing a few ski areas. (I couldn't help but think of Red Star and Lyons Ridge.) Stacey and Bill helped me get through the first two aid stations, taking my jacket, filling my bottles, etc. After the second aid station, the route climbs 3700 feet up Mt Baden-Powell. In the steep sections, I went by a few people until I caught up with Monica Scholz and KB. I talked with Monica as KB drifted ahead. She was extremely friendly. However, her strategy calls for a slower start than most people finishing in her time. After a while, I passed her. It made me feel extremely uncomfortable because I knew that she would finish many hours ahead of me. I caught up with KB before topping out near the summit. (Being a mountaineer, I felt awkward bypassing the summit.) At about 9000 feet, Baden-Powell is the high point of the course. I slowly watched as KB pulled ahead on the gentle down. The views of the surrounding mountains were pretty spectacular. This section was probably where I felt the strongest, warmed up but not yet drained. In fact, I was feeling so good that I started singing some of my favorite blues tunes, rather loudly. The herds of boy scouts coming up the trail were treated to some of the classics. "Kansas City" became "Pasadena, Pasadena here I come. They got some . . . . . " This 12 mile stretch between aid stations was the longest, but not problematic since the day had not yet gotten hot. A weight check at Islip Saddle (mile 26) had me at my starting weight. The great aid stations were well stocked with cookies, chips, pretzels, potatoes, M&M's, but I went for the watermelon. The next short segment goes 1700 feet up the shoulder of Mt Williamson, then down and across the highway. The last mile follows a ridge just above the highway before dropping into the Eagles Roost aid station. The trail was in great condition so far. After grazing a bit I headed into AC's cooker, Cooper Canyon. The day had become hot. However, I had the liner in my ice hat stuffed with cubes and I took four water bottles, enough to allow regular dousing. Several runners caught me at the bottom of the canyon. As we started the long gentle climb out, I found myself with Monica again and Richard from San Diego. The climb was gentle, but it was long (1600 feet vertical) Richard had run Wasatch three weeks prior as well as the four previous AC's. Despite all my reading, he provided additional insight to the route ahead. We stayed together the remainder of the segment. Cloudburst Summit was the next aid station where my second drop bag would be waiting with salt tablets, tums, gel, and clean socks. I have found that changing socks keeps my feet in good condition, especially after a good scrub with baby wipes (a trick I learned from Curt). However, my socks did not look too dirty. Should I take the time, or just keep going. When I got to Cloudburst, I learned from the RD that the drop bags did not make it. The sock change decision was made. However, I was counting on the flask of gel for easy stomach calories. I spent extra time at the food table stuffing my mouth before heading out. After about 3 switchbacks out of the aid station, I heard someone yell my name from the guard rail above. It had to be Stacey which meant that they had just arrived from the previous check point and Rhonda was close behind. For the next hour and a quarter, the trail went down, paralleling the road and crossing it a few times. It was mid afternoon and hot. However, I had lots of water and managed to stay cool. My stomach was starting to act up, so at the next aid station, Three Points, I started drinking Coke. I eased off my pace as my quads started to ache. I ran for a bit with akaBill and Greg, but they were too fast on the downs. The trail went down a long section winding around granite boulders large and small. Many side trails went off into small amphitheaters filled with larger boulders, probably good bouldering. The main trail was marked at some of these intersections and not at others. While I did pause at a few spots, the main trail was always obvious. Either way, the trail twisted with lots of big steps and uneven footing, what the runners call "technical." The day started to cool down as I arrived at Chilao aid station a bit after 6:00 PM. This halfway marker is the transition from day to night for most of us mid to back of the packers. I weighed in at my starting weight again. One aid station worker (I forget his name now) became my crew getting my drop bag, and food and drink. Fearful of too much caffeine, I switched from Coke to orange soda, lemon-line, etc. I changed my shirt and hat, got out a full gel flask, and most importantly, my headlamp and flashlight. I tried to find out when Ken had gone through, but they couldn't find it. Finally, after too long a time sitting in a chair, I headed out the trail. The route quickly turned onto a rocky dirt road as the sky darkened. Right about 7:00 PM, I had to start using my flashlights. This was within a few minutes of when KB predicted based on third civilian twilight. I found the low beam on my Petlz Duo Beam headlight together with my new CC Crane LED flashlight worked quite well. I kept scanning the wide dirt road, fearful that I would miss a turn. After a ways, I passed a gate and a very well marked turn onto a trail. As the trail angled back and up I saw a light behind me. I was hoping for company, but never did find out who that was. A ways up the hill, I started to approach another light, maybe another runner. It turned out to be someone on a night hike. A bit later, a sign indicates water. I've got plenty, but the faucet just a few feet off the trail looks inviting in the still rather hot evening. Upon closer inspection, I realize it is dry. I later read about the "non-functioning faucet" in the trail description. I got to the Shortcut Saddle aid station and sat down to eat for a few minutes. Kent Holder brought me ice cream and other goodies. He wanted to chat, but I had a foot race to finish. Before leaving, I find out that KB is 1.5 hours ahead of me. As I head down the trail, my feeble calculations indicate that he can make the second sunrise (<25:47). I am about 10 minutes ahead of a 30 hour pace and later realize that my calculations did not add up. The next section crossed a big canyon, 2200 feet down followed by a 1300 foot climb to the next check point. The dirt road was easy to run down and at times, I could see the entire canyon in the bright moonlight. A few moving lights were occasionally visible near the bottom or on the other side. As I reached the uphill, I could see a few lights coming down from Shortcut way above me. No runners were close. This section was easy and enjoyable. The big treat at Newcomb's Saddle was teriyaki chicken. I kept my stop to 10 minutes and then moved on. KB was now only 30 minutes ahead. The course moved back onto single track with another 2200 foot drop. However, this section was a bit more challenging. The trail was mostly narrow, often overgrown. Many sections traversed steep sandy and loose hillsides with occasional voids in the trail or slanted sections. I image that the trail maintenance parties that Ken Hamada (the RD) organizes must be to combat the regular washouts that must happen with each storm. I pass a runner and his pacer sitting down. A bit later I passed a race volunteer heading up the trail. After passing through Spruce Grove, a campsite filled with tents (I tried to be quiet), a runner comes quickly from behind. It is Richard, who I had run with earlier. I let him pass and then try to stay with him. His fast walk-shuffle is too much for me to keep up with so I let him drift ahead as we continue to wind down the canyon. After several teaser climbs, I finally bottom out as the course turns onto a dirt road. More lights from behind catch up. It is akaBill and Greg. I stay with them as they power up the hill to Chantry Flats. I enter the Chantry Flats aid station at 1:30 AM feeling great. (Gotta love those climbs.) This was the big aid station with a medical check (my weight was still the same), easy crew access, and drop bags. I gathered my stuff and sat down to change my socks and saw KB sitting. He wasn't eating. He wasn't changing clothes, he wasn't changing batteries, he wasn't making progress. He did not look good. But, I couldn't focus on KB, I had a lot of work to do. I discovered a huge blister on my left big toe. After changing my clothes, I went to the medical tent where the two nurses spent a lot of time thinking about how to deal with it. My little vile of tincture of benzoin only made it more difficult for them. With specific instructions, they lanced and wrapped the blister, but it took 20 minutes. Richard took off. AkaBill and Greg took off. Everyone was leaving. I ate some, changed my batteries, got my new gel flask, ate some more, took some salt tablets, and repacked my drop bag. Back to KB. I couldn't just leave him there. We talked for a bit and decided to continue together. I would pace him on the ups, and he would drag me on the downs. Only he was not quite ready to leave. While I waited for him to change his batteries, I drank about 8 cups of orange soda. 40 minutes after I arrived, I left with KB for the big climb up Mt Wilson knowing that most people who leave Chantry with their bracelets, make it to the finish on their feet. At first the trail climbed. But then to my surprise the trail rolled up and down for a few miles until turning at a junction. Finally, the big dreaded climb began (oh yeah, I like the climbs), 3300 feet from Chantry to a point high up Mt Wilson. We climbed for a long time and eventually came out on the Mt. Wilson Toll Road, a rocky dirt road. The route headed down, but KB reminded me that this course had lots of teasers and surely this was one of them. The trail kept going down. The lights of LA spread out below us, so close, but still another 20 miles to go. We walked down for a while, then tried running. I had to stop and pee almost every 10 minutes, probably too much caffeine earlier. At least I was well hydrated. The lower we went, the more tired we both seemed to get. My eyes were getting heavy and ready to nod off. KB wanted to sit down and rest for a few minutes. At first I thought we should try to get to the next aid station and rest there. However, my eyelids were getting heavy and I thought that a few minutes of sleep would feel good. We sat down on some rocks. I put my arms on my knees and rested my forehead on my arms. It was comforting to close my eyes, but not as rewarding as I had hoped. It wasn't long before KB says it's not working and we should move on. As I get up, I look at my watch, 1.5 minutes had gone by. The short rest helped my legs and we were able to run without stopping. The running pepped me up. The rest of the way went more quickly. We passed a few parked cars in the middle of nowhere and half a mile later came to the Idlehour aid station. The trail leaves Idlehour aid station and goes up and down a bit over to the next canyon before dropping several hundred feet to the canyon bottom, through the Idlehour Campground and the next big climb. By the time we got to the campground, we could turn off our lights. As we started up the 2300 foot climb, the dawn's early bugs started their harassment. Mostly up, a few downs to cross side canyons, then the climb got steep. Eventually, we topped out at Sam Merrill aid station in sun and heat. We put our lights in the drop bags, loaded up with ice water and headed down for the 3100 foot descent. I had been warned about the technical nature of this section, but it wasn't quite as bad as I expected. The route seemed a bit contrived with random zigzags on the now urban mountainside. The mountainside itself was not urban, but from all the hikers and mountain bikers we encountered, we new we were close to an urban area. Many of the sections were exposed to the strong sun. The water from the previous aid station had a strong hint of sport utility drink. But, I had plenty and kept dousing my back and head. The north facing hillsides offered welcome shade. The route eventually circled around the top of an obvious canyon containing Millard Campground, the last aid station. As we passed the trail sign indicating half a mile to Millard, KB reminded me that the sign was known to be wrong. Indeed, it was much further. After a quick pee stop, I heard a noise in the thick brush a bit ahead of me. I called out to KB with no response. He either fell off the trail or had surged ahead. We were so close to the finish, yet I envisioned him taking a bad fall, bad enough to skip the finish for a trip to the emergency room. Fortunately, I heard the cheering welcoming him to the aid station. I followed a minute behind. With gel left in my flask and less than five miles to the finish we did not stay long. The putrid stink from the restroom only helped us to move on. As warned, we had a hot sunny climb up a dirt road out of the aid station, complete with teaser sections. Finally we got to the trail that would take us down to Pasadena. We tried to run and were buoyed by passing another runner walking slowly. After a while of our slow run, I figured I needed to walk. KB later told me that he was able to walk at the same rate as my downhill run. At least we were in the shade as we wound our way down the bottom of a canyon. Soon the trail ended on a road. Could this be THE paved road at the end. Over the first quarter mile the pavement got a whole lot more serious (not covered with dirt). We figured if we kept our pace we could finish before noon and keep our time under 31 hours. A small up grade brought us back to a walk. How much further was it? Before the top of the hill, we say a sign written in chalk on the road, "1 mile." The time was 11:43. Could we manage the last mile in 17 minutes? We would try. Our artificial goal was enough to bring us to a steady jog. The paved road had no cars, but lots of walkers and bicyclists. We pass JPL buildings across the way. Where was Johnson's Field? We had no idea what it looked like. I knew that we would pass a big grove of trees to find the finish line hidden behind. The course left the road, crossed a vacant lot. Still, no sign of the finish. Then we could see a bunch of cars, an obvious indication. All of a sudden, we were surrounded by people, people associated with the race telling us we there. But where was the finish line? We kept going. Finally, I asked someone and they told me we had to run across the field. (I knew that from the prerace briefing.) Down the embankment, on to the field. We crossed the line together, about five minutes shy of 31 hours.