Date: Fri, 23 Oct 1998 16:02:18 -0700 From: Matthew Kavanaugh Subject: Re: AC Report AC 100 Report Executive summary version: Started smoothly, slowed by Mt Williamson, struggled in the canyons with nausea, bounced back, went down again, bounced back again, worked through a sore knee, and managed to finish strongly in 32:00.15! Very happy and satisfied. The gory-details version: The adventure got underway hooking up with my crew, Jim Wolff and Bridget Walsh, at Jim's house in Chatsworth Friday morning, 8:00 am. My Ford Explorer, which was to serve as the support vehicle, was already bursting with running and camping gear. We wedged in Jim's and Bridget's gear and off we sped to Wrightwood. Arrived on schedule about 10:15 am in plenty of time to drop off the drop bags, go through the medical check-in and the generally get settled in. At the Wrightwood Community Center parking lot, as we were rearranging gear and getting drop bags organized, I took the opportunity to present to Jim and Bridget the crew shirts I had made for them and my two other pacers--jade green long-sleeve polypro from REI with a small, tasteful circular logo over the left breast reading, "Angeles Crest" at the top, "100 Miles of Fun" in the center, and "Team Kavanaugh" at the bottom of the circle. I wanted to make sure they knew how much I appreciated them being there for me. I bought them each a race t-shirt at the check-in as well. What a bargain--for the cost of a couple of shirts I got priceless support! [And they would have done it even without the shirts! ;-] Check-in, etc. went uneventfully. My blood pressure was elevated, as was that of my friends Joanie Matheson and Bill Harns. The paramedic ascribed it to the altitude... Joanie figured it was nerves... Bill didn't seem to care... I have no idea what the cause, but I sure felt calm and relaxed. It was as if I was on auto-pilot. After months of training, planning and anticipation, I was finally there, in Wrightwood, on the eve of my first 100. Somehow I felt disassociated, almost like an out-of-body experience: "Hey, look down there, it's me filling my drop bags... it's me registering for the race... it's me sitting through the race briefing." The briefing was fun. I sat next to Will Brown from the list, whose name I recognized... another virtual running friend met face-to-face. I sat next to Chris Scott for some of the briefing... he's always a hoot. Coming off an impressive finish at Wasatch he was pacing at AC. And I got the see Bozena Maslanka whom I paced last year and who was third female finisher at that running of AC. She looked great and ready to take on the course again, after her impressive Hardrock finish earlier this year. Listening to Hal Winton and Ken Hamada, I felt among friends, calm and relaxed. Before the briefing Jim, Bridget and I went to lunch with Joanie and her crew, Ken and Loren. We ended up at little caf‚ near the Wrightwood Community Center, eating burgers and chili [just missed breakfast]. In our wanderings to find lunch we stopped at a hardware store and had an extra key made for the Explorer: cheap insurance, as Jim put it. After the briefing, Jim, Bridget and I headed up to Table Mtn campground, about 4 miles outside of Wrightwood. We set up the tent [smallish 2-3 person dome style] and generally organized the campsite for the evening. Jim and I slept in the tent, on cots, and Bridget in the back of the Explorer, on the thick air mattress that fills the entire back of the vehicle [thank God for the electric pump!]. Then back to Wrightwood for the spaghetti dinner sponsored by the Fire Dept. Had to be the best pre-race feed I've ever attended... I usually skip 'em, but glad I didn't miss this. Tasty meat sauce, lots of garlic bread and ice cream for dessert. Plus it was fun to chat with runners at dinner. We headed back to Table Mtn campground relatively early, fixed up the truck for the evening [i.e., put all the gear on the roof to make room for the air mattress], lit the campfire and relaxed for a couple of hours. By 9:00 I was pleasantly tired, and still feeling relaxed, headed off to my sleeping bag, alarms [two of course, primary and back-up] set for 3:30 am. The noisy kids who were at a campsite up the hill quieted down and I went of to dreamland, waking only a couple of times to dehydrate ;-). But at 3:00 am I was awake and thinking about breaking camp, etc., so I got up and started getting dressed. This prompted Jim to get up as well, and when I went to the Explorer and started moving the gear off the roof, inside Bridget popped up and asked, "Bear?", in a voice and tone as if she were asking me if I was a bear... I should have answered yes :-)! We broke camp and headed to Wrightwood, getting there in plenty of time to partake in the pancake breakfast sponsored by the local cub scout pack. Having a professional interest in the operation as a cubmaster in my son's pack, I told them what a great job they were doing and savored the pancakes. Knowing that we had a long hike up out of Wrightwood for the first leg of the race, I was not concerned about having a stomach full of pancakes and coffee--in fact, it was precisely what I needed! About 5 minutes before the 5:00 am race start I made on last foray to the bathroom, in a vain attempt to get the digestive system moving. No luck as it was about an hour and a half too early for my biological clock, but it did cause Bridget and Jim some anxiety because she had my Camelbak, and I didn't. But somehow I knew it wasn't a problem, and it wasn't. She found me, I put it on, found Joe Magruder, Joanie and Bill at the start. Exchanged "Good luck" wishes, saw Dan Harshberger for the first time in months if not over a year (recovering from an injury) which really cheered me, then all of sudden Hal was counting down to the start, and we were off!! Finally... I was finally running AC... but I was still disassociated, distant... I fell in with Joanie and Bill and immediately went to my game plan: walk all the uphills and run the flats and downhills so gently that I felt like I was loafing [and if it felt any faster than loafing, SLOW DOWN]. So I walked up the first little hill from the Wrightwood Community Building, then jogged the short distance to where we started our climb up out of Wrightwood. The climb up that first big hill went fine, but my digestive system finally got moving and I was forced to take a pit stop off the trail for about 5 minutes, thereby losing contact with Joanie and Bill. I wasn't concerned, figuring I'd catch up with them later. Walking up the hill, we'd been near the back of the pack, and I was at the back after my pit stop with only a couple of runners behind me. Not my usual mid-pack position, but I was comforted and comfortable with that state of affairs: I was taking it easy, per my game plan. I did notice a curious sight coming up the hill: low clouds blanketing the high desert area just south of Wrightwood; another encouraging sign-- perhaps cool weather was really in store for us. After reaching the top of that first climb I rolled on down towards Inspiration Point [the first aid station] at an easy pace. All along I'd been drinking religiously from my Camelbak: every 10 minutes my watch alarm would go off and I'd take 5 or 6 pulls from the tube, drinking down the CLIP sports drink. I caught up to Joanie and Bill after a time, and they were surprised. They thought somehow I'd gotten out in front of them. We cruised into Inspiration Point right on schedule, virtually to the minute, 2 « hours. Joanie and I were planning on this pace and Bill, after constant reassuring from me and Joanie that it was ok, we weren't going too slow, was happy with it too. We went to our respective crews at the aid station and I had my first real taste of what it's like to be pampered at a 100 miler. I've never had a crew before, never been paced before, never run a 100 before [but paced at WS and AC]. Jim and Bridget were amazing: they had my pack off, bladder swapped out and a can of ice cold Boost in my hand in about 30 seconds. Bridget was bubbling over and giddy... Jim was the focused quality-control engineer that he is real [?] life. They made a perfect team: I teased them after that it was like having Buzz Lightyear and Mom as my handlers... the ultimate left-brain, right-brain combo! I swapped the 100 oz. bladder (which was still better than « full) for a 50 oz. bladder filled with CLIP, drank a can of Boost and was ready to roll on out. After about 3 minutes at the aid station, Joanie, Bill and I rolled out and on to our next leg of the course, the relatively short downhill stretch to Vincent Gap. It is interesting to me to note how one's perspective changes in the context of a 30+ hour/100 mile undertaking: 5 miles becomes a "short" stretch. In any event, we cruised on down that stretch, enjoying the cool temps and chatting. Approximately 75 minutes after leaving Inspiration we arrived at Vincent Gap, again right on schedule, at least as far as I was concerned. Bill had gotten comfortable with our pace and the three of us seemed destined to run together. At Vincent Gap, in anticipation of the long [12 mile, 3 « hour] leg to Islip which includes the climb up Mt Baden-Powell, I got 150 oz. of CLIP put into by pack by Bridget and Jim: 50 oz. and 80 oz. bladders. I picked up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to go, downed a can of Boost and was ready to start the long climb up Baden-Powell. Bill and Joanie finished up quickly with their crews and we were off and up the trail on Baden-Powell in less than 5 minutes. Now began that long, slow trek up to 9200 feet. Joanie, Bill and I had done it recently in training, and we'd all felt the altitude. I was determined to take it VERY easy and lead with that pace ingrained in my mind. Bill named it the "Teflon" pace after I told him we were going to ease on up the mountain slowly and then slide right down the other side. We chatted with other runners climbing with us. A couple passed, a couple fell in with us. We met a number of hikers coming down from the summit, including a large group of Boy Scouts. All moved off to the side to let us pass, somehow feeling compelled to defer to our "race" status. All three of us were in a good mood, especially me. In training, I'd experienced a mild altitude-induced headache going up Baden-Powell, but today, nothing. I was drinking copious amounts from my Camelbak, 5 or 6 mouthfuls every 10 minutes, and taking an electrolyte tablet every 1 « hour. Joanie did complain that she was feeling a headache once we got about 2/3 of the way up Baden-Powell, but seemed to be doing ok. After what seemed like forever, we finally reached the top of the climb [which isn't quite to the summit] and had some gentle rollers [whoop-tee-do's as Bill calls 'em] to run. Here's where the Teflon pace really kicked in: slid down these gently and walked anything that was remotely an uphill. In a bit we reached the spot where Lee was taking pictures of all the runners. We all had numbers for our hats for the purpose of making it possible to be identified later to get these pictures [come to think of it, I haven't seen it yet]. We dutifully lined up and spaced ourselves out so Lee could get a picture of each of us coming down the trail. >From there we rolled on down to Islip Saddle. Joanie was feeling a little bit pressed by the pace and fell back, Bill and I rolled into the Islip aid station. Bridget and Jim jumped into action and had me "Boosted" and "Re-Cliped" in no time at all. I was feeling good and thought Bill was going to wait for Joanie, so I headed out of Islip and up the Mt. Williamson climb with a PBJ sandwich in hand. I was pretty much on schedule, perhaps 10 - 15 minutes slower than predicted, but the projected times into the aid stations were really no more than guesses. As we were coming down into Islip we noticed that the fog was blowing in right over the ridge and over the road. The temperature must have dropped 10 degrees at least. Going up Williamson I started to feel tired, so I eased into a super Teflon pace: very slow and easy. I eased on up to the top, and about half way up the clouds and fog ended and it was clear and sunny again, with consequently warmer temperatures. I still had my long sleeve polypro shirt on, with a zipper neck, and was able to regulate the temperature pretty well, unzipping the shirt and pulling up the sleeves in order to cool off. Eventually reaching the top of Williamson, and encouraged knowing that the major climbs were over until Mt Wilson at mile 75, I started down Williamson at a gentle run. Bill was pushing the pace some going up and caught up to me on the way down. We came off of Williamson together, down to Krakta Ridge and someone was snapping photos just up the trail from the road. I moved over the side of the trail as I was running down so he could get a clear shot of Bill running behind me. The photographer moved the camera from in front of his face and yelled, "Hi Matthew!" It was Shaun Clark, my pacer out of Chilao to Shortcut, out on the course very early! I stopped briefly to shake his hand, say hi to his girlfriend Lisa who was there as well, then Bill and I climbed up the short hill on the other side of the road and headed down the trail to Eagles Roost. We came into Eagles Roost pretty much on schedule, and I was feeling comfortable and in control. But the fog was blowing in and it was cool/cold again on the ridge. My crew again did their magic, got me a Boost, fresh Camelbak bladder filled with CLIP and back on the trail in just a couple of minutes. Bridget gave me a turkey and avocado sandwich to carry and eat, and Bill and I hit the trail again. Joanie had fallen back, having trouble with her stomach. I was actually looking forward to getting down into the canyons off the ridges to warm up! How strange... something of a reverse weather condition at AC!! And it was warmer in the canyons, but still comfortable while we were in the clouds and overcast. Bill and I rolled on down, but I started feeling a little queasy in the stomach. We reached the bottom of the canyon, where the trail starts up again, and I slowed my pace down considerably. Bill went on ahead and I really started dragging. My stomach was bothering me and I had to walk uphill slowly, and run downhill very slowly, to keep it under control. In hindsight, perhaps I should have just thrown up, but at the time it didn't seem like the right thing to do. After awhile, it was clear I needed to get plain water into my system. But all I had in the bladder was CLIP. I forced myself to keep drinking it. I craved plain water, but knew if I didn't drink something, the nausea would lead to dehydration, and then things could really get serious. So I forced the CLIP down and plodded on through the canyons, running some on the flats and downs but mostly walking slowly. Finally climbing up to Cloudburst, I spotted Joanie and some other runners just behind me. I got up to the aid station and plopped down into a chair. I told Jim and Bridget I need plain water, no Boost and no CLIP. They immediately gave me a bottle of ice water and replaced the bladder filled with CLIP they were planning on giving me with one filled with water. Joanie came up out of the canyon into the aid station immediately behind me. She gave me some words of encouragement, which helped a lot, and suggested I try some carbonated water as it had helped her stomach. Loren, who was crewing for Joanie, brought me a small bottle of carbonated mineral water and I drank about half of that. Together with the ice water, it had an immediate effect: I felt better! I got out of the aid station after about 10 minutes. I had been watching the time and the cutoffs ever since my stomach forced me to slow down, and Jim and Bridget confirmed it to us: I was only about 20 minutes ahead of the cutoff getting out of Cloudburst. I had never expected to be running near the cutoffs, but I remembered what Hal Winton said at the race briefing the day before. Although in the past the aid station personnel were given discretion in enforcing cutoffs, this year the times would be hard cutoffs, no exceptions. I was feeling pretty good, so I took advantage of the downhill and ran at a much better pace. Although they were not scheduled to meet me again until Three Points, 5 miles later, Jim and Bridget decided that I needed closer monitoring, and I readily concurred. So they planned on meeting me at Pajarito, just over a mile out of Cloudburst. I made pretty good time to that point, and they were encouraged to see me running. I felt so much better and I was so relieved to feel better that I could barely contain myself. They told me that Joanie was just ahead of me, so I pressed the pace some more and caught up to her, Byron, Frank and another runner shortly after seeing Jim and Bridget. I was sooo happy to see Joanie. We trained together quite a bit during the summer and it picked my spirits up immensely to be with her now. She was feeling rejuvenated as well, so we pushed the pace all the way to Three Points. By the time we got into Three Points we'd built up some cushion on the cutoff, about 35 minutes I think. Still tight, but with a little more breathing room at least. Jim and Bridget were so full of energy and encouragement, my low mental state in the canyons and my nausea seemed over and gone for good. Joanie and I hustled in and out of Three Points. I drank only water, no Boost, and asked that Jim dump the CLIP filled bladder he had for my pack: just water from here on out. I took a PBJ sandwich for the trail and Joanie and I checked out just of Three Points just a couple of minutes behind Bill Harns. We cruised on down towards Sulphur Springs campground, running with Frank, Byron and another couple of runners. But the pace we'd pressed from Cloudburst to Three Points caught up with me, or more accurately, with my stomach. By the time we reached the uphill climb to Mt Hillyer, the nausea was back almost as bad as before, and my frame of mind deteriorated proportionately. How was I going to beat this upset stomach! Joanie power walked up the road to Hillyer and I crept up. Byron and Frank caught and passed me, all of us walking. I asked as they went by if they had anything for a rebelling stomach. Byron gave me a couple of Rolaids which I immediately chewed up and washed down with some water. I'd been drinking lots of water, trying to stave off the dehydration I feared, but it wasn't working.... however, the Rolaids seemed to help. I was still creeping up that interminable climb on the road up to Hillyer, but my stomach felt a little better. I finally reached the Hillyer aid station and immediately asked if they had any Rolaids. They did, a big jar, so I popped a couple more and put a few in my belt pocket. I sat for a couple of minutes in the aid station and started shivering. It was getting cold, getting dark, and I had to get moving. I pushed out of the aid station, still about 35 minutes ahead of the cutoff, and still feeling sick to my stomach. I had my headlamp small flashlight, having picked those up Three Points, so I put the headlamp on and tried to warm up. The shivering stopped almost as soon as I got out of the aid station, but I was so very discouraged at this point. It seemed like I was never going to lick this nausea, I was on the cutoff bubble, it was night, bringing slower pace, and I was alone, quite possibly the last runner on the course, at least the last ahead of the cutoff. Climbing up out of Hillyer, I hit my low point mentally. I never let myself throw up, but I did let myself go emotionally. From frustration, anxiety, disappointment and fear, I cried. I sobbed out loud, appealing to my wife Robin to be with me: "I need you Robin, please be with me now!" Somehow that helped, as if I'd conjured up her spirit, her presence, to be at my side. I started turning over in my mind what it would mean if I quit or missed the cutoff at Chilao, the next aid station: Shaun was waiting there to pace me, likely since much earlier in the afternoon; Jim and Bridget had been doing a great job crewing, and had come out to Wrightwood with the day before; my wife and kids were to meet me at the finish... I realized that I felt more pressure to finish based upon all these people counting on me, all these people there to help me... so I resolved I'd just do what I could. The Rolaids did seem to be helping and I was able to run the downhill section from Hillyer into Chilao. And shortly after heading down I caught Joanie. Again, this lifted my spirits tremendously. We walked the rockier, more difficult downhill parts and talked candidly about not finishing, how our stomachs just wouldn't give us peace (her's had acted up again too), and generally how it wasn't much fun right then. Not only was it now the full dark of night, but the damn fog rolled in! It was rather cold, damp and the visibility was tricky! As we descended down towards the Chilao aid station, I did begin to feel much better. The Rolaids seemed to do the trick. We got in to Chilao, finally, and I was far behind the projected time I'd given my crew. I was perhaps 40 minutes ahead of the cutoff, but I was feeling better. And now I'd have a pacer! Psychologically, it was such a lift to come into an aid station and have Jim and Bridget right there for me, telling me all the lies [how good I looked, etc.] and pampering me. And now I'd have a pacer for the rest of the race. Before I'd caught Joanie out of Hillyer, I'd been lonely running alone at night. I sure was glad that I wouldn't have to do that again! I weighed in at the Chilao aid station: a couple of pounds over my Wrightwood check-in weight. My weight had been up a couple of pounds at Islip as well, and I ascribed it to two factors: I was wearing my shoes and I had a lot of liquid in my system (unabsorbed, sloshing around in my stomach!). Jim and Bridget went to work on my Camelbak, replacing the bladder with another one filled with water, and tried to get me to eat something. I was very leery of putting anything in my stomach, but I think I had something to eat, but I don't remember what. Jim replaced the batteries in my headlamp so I'd have fresh ones, I put on tights over my shorts, Shaun's girlfriend Lisa and Bridget fussed over me, I sat for a few minutes in the lawn chair, then Shaun lead me off to the trail out of Chilao. He was primed and ready to go! Poor guy; he'd been waiting for me for a long time! Shaun hadn't paced before, in fact was entirely new to the ultra scene. I told him to imagine the slowest 50k training pace he could think of, then slow it down from there ;-). And we'd walk all the uphills. Off we went to Shortcut, into the fog. It was quite dense at times and difficult to see. But Shaun did a great job leading... I figured I'd let him worry about finding the course and I'd just follow along behind, the mental burden of looking for the trail and the course markers on him. It worked well. I had to ask him to slow a couple of times as he got too far ahead, but he did a great job setting the pace and calling out rocks and other obstacles to me. I was able to maintain a reasonable pace, running the downs and flats at a decent pace and walking the uphills. We talked about various things and the time went by relatively quickly. It was GREAT to have his company. I felt like I was back on track to finish. We rolled into Shortcut still about 35 minutes ahead of the cutoff, and were greeted by my fantastic crew and Kent Holder [who was working the station]. Jim was off napping in the car after getting ready to run, so Bridget roused him. In the meantime, I talked to Kent about my stomach problems. He gave me some excellent advice: avoid the "plastic foods" [i.e., artificial, engineered foods]; eat something NOW. He ran through the list of what he had to offer at the aid station, and the cheese sandwich menu item sounded good. So I ordered one to go. Jim came over, hopping up and down to try to warm up [it was chilly when we stopped moving!]. I got my sandwich, a fresh Camelbak bladder of water, thanked Shaun and Lisa (they were probably not going to be at the finish) and off Jim and I went. It was very chilly at Shortcut as the fog and light wind were flowing over the ridge where the aid station is located. Once we dropped down off the ridge and got moving we warmed up. And the cheese sandwich tasted great! I intended on eating only half and saving the rest until I was sure my stomach was ok, but it tasted so good I ate it all. A new calamity: my left knee started to get very sore... I couldn't believe it! I finally had my stomach under control and now this!! I told Jim my knee was bothering me and that I didn't know how much I'd be able to run. He immediately offered to give me the knee bandage he was wearing, saying he really didn't need it. So we did a quick bandage switch and my knee immediately felt better. Still a little sore, but I could run on it. The fog was quite thick. Jim had a Mini Mag Lite and a headlamp, so he used the flashlight to point out rocks and other hazards to me as he lead. I think that initially it was hard for him to run as slowly as I needed to go, but he got the hang of it and did a great job guiding me down the trail and calling out obstacles. We plugged along and the fog dissipated making it easier to run. When the fog was thick, it was actually difficult for us to tell if we were going uphill or downhill! I was tired and dragging somewhat from general fatigue. At one point I said to Jim that I'd like to lie down on the trail and sleep. He responded quite seriously, "You can't do that, you'll get cold." I didn't really intend to and his response amused me. We caught up to Bill Harns and his pacer. She had glow sticks and a glow hoop, and amused us doing Miss Nancy Romper Room imitations with the glowing hoop: "Romper Stomper Bomper Boo, I see Matthew in my magic hoop!" Then we got to the uphill climb to the aid station, and it seemed it would never end! Bill slowed and Jim and I pressed on. Bill was now battling with his stomach. I gave him some of the Rolaids I'd hoarded from prior aid stations and made a mental note to replenish my supplies at the next one. We finally reached the Newcomb's Saddle aid station. By running the downhills at decent pace and walking the uphills reasonably well, we'd managed to build up about 45 minutes cushion on the cutoff. What a relief! But my left heel had a nagging pain, a blister forming I suspected. So we burned some of that cushion while I sat in a chair, drank chicken noodle soup and coffee mixed into hot chocolate and had the foot doctor [an EMT I think] at Newcomb's repair my foot. I hadn't taken either shoe off yet, and when the left one came off I was pleased to see that the gaiters were doing their job: sock wasn't too dirty and my foot looked in good shape. I did have a small blister (about the size of a nickel I think) on the underside of my heel. My foot mechanic drained it and patched it up, I got some more Rolaids at the aid station, and about 25 minutes after arriving at Newcomb's, Jim and I exited. I felt rejuvenated. Sitting that long, draped in blankets so I stayed warm and toasty, with Jim and my "footman" catering to me was GREAT. I was awake and ready to roll! By the way, one key discovery I made at AC was the hot chocolate/coffee combination. It got me through the night. Having a pacer, hot chocolate coffee and Rolaids were the keys to the second half of the race for me. Bill Harns came into the aid station not long after I did, and he got out of there more quickly. On we went, next stop Chantry. Immediately after exiting the aid station we were treated to the lights of the L.A. Basin spread out belong us. Now I was really psyched! We were headed home. We run down the front side of the mountains, catching glimpses of the city lights and following the trail that switches back and forth, dropping us down towards Los Angeles. This section was very runnable for me, feeling better and encouraged about the time I'd made up on the cutoff, even though I'd burned through that at the aid station. We headed down, down, down, passed Bill and his pacer in a bit, down, down, down some more, and then hiked that last hill up to Chantry. Bridget was watching for our arrival of course. She was as enthusiastic as ever, despite the fact that it was about 1:15 or so in the morning. And Renne Gardner was there, of course, ready to pace me in to the finish. He'd been there since about 8 PM I think! What a guy!! I took a quick chicken soup and hot chocolate coffee break, then we were off. I thanked Jim and told him and Bridget I'd see them at the finish and by this point I knew it was true, I'd make it if I just kept up the steady effort I'd managed the last 25 miles since Chilao. They were done with their fantastic crewing work as there is no crew access from Chantry to the end of race. They made quick arrangements with Renne to take his van to the finish and I admonished them to get some sleep. Renne and I set off for the long hike up Mt Wilson. I gave Renne the same "your slowest 50k training pace, and then slower" speech about pace and up we went, very slowly. Shortly after we turned of the road from Chantry onto the trail, two runners came down and passed us going in the opposite direction. Renne stopped and called out to them, "Hey Heather, come on up with us... we're going nice and easy." I thought, "I know a Heather, it must be the Heather I know," but that was as far as my addled brain could reach. If I'd been a bit more coherent I would have realized that it was my training buddy Joe Magruder with Heather, and I would have encouraged them to accompany us. It was VERY dark and I did not even recognize Heather, let alone Joe. So I stood there like a horse waiting for the reins to be taken back up and driven up the hill. Heather declined Renne's offer and we went our separate ways. I discovered later that Joe was spent and injured, had been convinced to at least try climbing out of Chantry, and had realized it just was not to be. I hadn't seen him since the start, although I had inquired after his progress at many aid stations, including Chantry where I saw his friend and pacer, Dan Harshberger. Renne and I continued our relentlessly upward progress. I was taking it very slow and easy... and it began to RAIN! Who would have thunk! Rain at AC? It wasn't bad, actually, relatively light and not cold. I did have on my jacket so I was comfortable. About 2/3 of the way up, it got light enough to turn off my headlamp. And the rain stopped! We finally reached the top of the climb, after I was fooled by the false summit (I should know better!), and we were joined by a runner and his pacer who caught us going up. I took a little time to stretch at the top, then eased into running down to the Idlehour aid station. After loosening up, the downhill run actually felt good. My left knee was doing fine with the bandage [a little sore, but ok], and Renne and I rolled on past the runner and pacer who passed us at the top. Renne lead and I followed his pattern of weaving from side to side on the dirt road avoiding the rocks, finding the smoothest path in the dirt. I was elated! We were done with the Mt Wilson climb and I was running! I felt reasonably good, and now "all" that remained was one "little" climb out of the Idlehour aid station up to Sam Merrill. We cruised into Idlehour, and I immediately recognized Jon Savage, another running friend, sitting in the aid station. He was dressed in civies so I knew he was working at the station. I went over and shook hands with him, and another aid station volunteer said, "Matt Kavanaugh on the ultra list?" "Yes..." I replied. "Hi, Larry Gassan," he said. What a treat, meeting Larry face to face after a couple of years of internet correspondence... and what better place than at the aid station Larry runs! If I'd been more lucid I would have appreciated the bizarre food that Larry offers as a joke at the aid station: piled up on the table were cigarettes, military rations, Spam and other unspeakables... but I just looked and them and thought, "Huh..." I felt like staying and chatting with Jon and Larry, but not really as I was psyched to get this puppy done. And Renne would hear nothing of it: "We've been here five minutes, you have three more minutes then we're leaving." I dropped my lights and jacket in my drop bag, drank the Boost, over some aid station supplied ice, which was in my drop bag, had a cup of soup, took a sandwich for the trail, and we were off! The climb up out of Idlehour, along the Idlehour aid station, is not really "little." In fact, it's quite obnoxious. But there is a runnable, downhill and rolling section first of a mile or so which I'd forgotten. After climbing out of the aid station, Renne announced, "Ok, this is runnable" and we ran. It took a few minutes to loosen up again, but once I did it felt good and we maintained a strong pace downhill. Then the uphill came. I remembered this section from pacing Bozena Maslanka last year. I'd also run it in training this summer, but the more distinct, and accurate, memory was from pacing. At this point in the race, this final climb seems interminable to me. It is not as steep as Mt Wilson, but it seems to go on and on. Renne finally admitted that it seemed endless to him too. Renne was 10 yards or so ahead of me when I had my first bona fide running hallucination [and I was inhaling ;-]: I was anticipating the top of the climb and looking hard through the thick stand of trees on the downhill side of the trail when I saw a treehouse, a big treehouse, in the trees. I looked away and thought, "No... don't bother even looking back... you're tired, it's your mind playing games with you..." And I just kept on walking. As I'm thinking about this strange event, I looked back to the downhill side of the trail, and there was another treehouse! Very much like the first, but not the same exactly. So now I had to stop, look more closely, peer through the branches and the fog, and of course the "treehouse" disappeared, replaced by trees, branches and fog. We finally reached the top of the Idlehour Trail, the Sam Merrill aid station with about a 35 minute cushion on the cutoff. I sat down briefly, drank some more chicken noodle soup and had a can of Boost out of my drop bag. Renne was doing his job and pestering me to eat. After sitting there for a couple of minutes, Bill Harns and his pacer arrived. He made up quite a bit of time on my going uphill: he's fast and strong walking uphill and I'm not, especially at this late stage of the race. Renne hustled me out of the aid station after about five minutes and we hit the downhill trail home. I'd been anticipating, fantasizing really, about this last stretch, from Sam Merrill to the finish, for quite some time, from before the start even. It was virtually all downhill from here, and my plan/hope/fantasy was to feel good enough to run it all at a decent pace and savor this last 10% of my AC experience. Well, sometimes dreams do come true! Through an ironic twist of circumstances, I was relatively rested and fresh: because of the ups and downs with my stomach, I'd been forced to strictly adhere to my game of walking all the uphills and running the downhills and flats so gently it felt like I was loafing. But now was the time to kick in the reserves and do the downhill! After a couple of minutes of warming up on the downhill out of Sam Merrill, I was able to run at a good pace. From Sam Merrill to Millard aid station, we ran the downhills briskly and walked the section along the old Lowe railroad tracks. I wasn't fresh enough to run the uphills! We made it into Millard in good time, passing several runners on the way. And I was having a great time! I was letting myself feel the anticipation of finishing, of seeing my family and crew at the finish line, of having done it! But I was careful not to space out and lose my concentration on the trail. It would have been awful to fall or twist an ankle! Before coming into Millard I did a mental calculation of my projected finishing time and decided that I would not be able to break 32 hours so I'd just keep up a reasonable pace, enjoy the finish and not worry about the time. I told Renne I wanted to take off my tights when we got into Millard. It had been foggy and cool most of the morning, but once we dropped down out of Sam Merrill and emerged on the front (south western?) side of the San Gabriel Mts, it warmed up considerably. We cruised into Millard with over an hour, I think, on the cutoff! We'd made up quite a bit of time and I think the cutoff is somewhat looser at this point. A volunteer at the aid station helped me pull my tights off over my shoes after removing the knee bandage. My left shoe came off for the second time in the race and it and the sock were still relatively clean under the gaiter. I put the tights in my drop bag, had a quick drink of water and we were off... walking up the hill on the road out of the aid station. One of the volunteers there told me Ben Hian had run this final section in 45 minutes I felt no need to hustle to try to break 32 hours. I was safely within the 33 hour limit, so I'd just enjoy it. Once we got to the top of that hill, I loosened up and we ran down the road to the last trail section. Down onto the trail, along the stream, hopping rocks and dancing in the dirt! I felt great, but still walking even the little uphills on this trail. Amazing how much harder the uphills felt than the downhills! Eventually we neared the road, and there was Bridget! She'd come about a mile and half up from the finish to meet us. It was wonderful to see her. And she was as enthusiastic as ever. She told me my wife and kids were waiting at the finish, eager to see me. Boy, was I happy. We ran in easily, passing several more runners. Renne, Bridget and I were chatting and laughing, already reliving various portions of our mutual adventure. I told them it felt like it had been a week since we arrived in Wrightwood to check in, just two days ago. Bridget agreed. When we within about a half mile of the finish, I glanced at my watch and yelped, "Holy cow! I could break 32 hours! Let's go!" And I took off with all I had left. Renne looked at his watch, said "It's going to be close," and matched me stride for stride. Bridget dropped back, not wanting (she told me later) to horn in on the finish. I wish she'd stayed with us! We were really moving, I'd guesstimate 7:30 - 8 mpm pace, and Renne accused me of having held out on him! I had held a lot back, and whether or not I broke 32 hours, this was a great way to finish! We came rushing down the road, passing Johnson Rock and down onto the field to the finish line. Renne was going to peel off, but I told him I wanted to finish together, and we did, hands raised in triumph! Then I hit my watch button and looked down: 32:00:10 [my official time was 5 seconds slower]. Oh well... didn't break 32, but I could hardly be disappointed... my wife and kids rushed up and were all over me :-))))). Bridget cruised up and Jim came over. My family, crew and ME at the finish line... it was actually done! We took pictures of all of us together, I sat down on the grass and watched the rest of the runners finish. Bill Harns came in with about 20 minutes to spare and they closed up the finish line. Robin (my wife) got me a burger with bacon from the barbecue (it was great), I drank a couple of cokes and savored the feeling. We hung around for the awards and I got that long-desired buckle [I've worn it every chance I get!]. So what did I learn? A lot can happen in 100 miles, ups and downs come and go. A slow and easy pace for the first 50 - 75 miles of the race works for me. Drinking too much sports drink and Boost does not. Rolaids are great and I will carry them always! Crew and pacers like Jim, Bridget, Shaun and Renne are PRICELESS. I am absolutely certain I would not have been able to finish without them. And yes, I'd do it again!