Subject: CCC Race Report
From: KRKreft@aol.com
Date: Tue, 27 Aug 2002 14:11:47 EDT


Short Version:

I started too fast.
I overheated at 25 miles.
I hurled.
I regrouped.
I ran 22:40 and finished THIRD!

Much longer version:

Cascade Crest is a great 100 mile trail run.  Randy Gehrke, Ron Behrmann, and
Tim Stroh put on an outstanding event.  All the more amazing when you
consider that Randy now lives in Idaho and Tim is in Georgia.  Not even a
threatened Boeing walk-out (which depleted the normal race volunteer staff)
could hinder the level of support and aid provided.  The course provides a
mountain trail experience without high altitude.  You also get the unique
experience of running at night through a 2.5 mile long tunnel. Great mountain
views, a tunnel, the trail from hell - preceded by a bushwhacking segment,
what more could you ask for.  Last year at CCC, I struggled through the
tunnel and lost a bunch of time after the 55 mile aid station at Hyak.  I
also lost time along the lake on the "trail from hell".  This year, my goal
was to find 34+ minutes on the course and finish under 24 hours.

Randy has the race scheduled to start at 10:00 AM.  Personally, I like the
arrangement.  A pre-race breakfast is provided, followed by a pre-race
briefing where all the entrants are introduced.  Obviously, this wouldn't
work for races like Western or Leadville, but then I hope CCC never gets that
large.  As it is, you get to visit with old friends and meet new ones.  While
waiting to check in, I met John Morelock.  I had e-mailed John a few times
and it was nice to put a face to the name.  John didn't have the run he had
hoped for and was forced to drop, due to a previous injury.  Instead of
getting down about that, he volunteered at the Keechelus Ridge aid station.
When I came across the finish line, there was John again, offering
congratulations and helping get finishers a chair, something to drink, or
whatever they might need.  When I left at around 5:00 Sunday afternoon, John
was still there, helping out.

In keeping with the low key atmosphere of the run, the entrants began
wandering over to the starting area just a couple of minutes before 10:00.
With the sun shining and the temperature starting to climb, the race began.
The first couple of miles are on pavement and provide a tour of downtown
Easton.  The whole town turned out to cheers us on, at least I thought they
were both there.  (Sorry Randy, cheap shot.  But I grew up in Kansas and am
intimately familiar with very small towns).  After the road section, we made
our way over towards Goat Peak and our first 3,000 foot climb.  I was along
this section that I saw a younger entrant who was running without any water
bottles or pack of any sort. I commented on his running without any bottle
and he indicated that he had gotten along fine at the 50K races just drinking
at the aid stations.  He said he did have a pack and bottle at the first drop
bag site (35.5 miles in).  He was running a bit faster than I and eventually
worked his way out of sight.  I never saw him again that day or at the finish
line and suspect that he may have learned that what works for a 50k doesn't
necessarily apply to 100 milers.

I tried to be patient and run smart - not going out too hard. I was also
focused on eating and drinking small amounts regularly, even if I didn't feel
like it.  I met Bruce Hoff of California on the Goat Peak climb, along with
another runner. Unfortunately, my feeble mind can't recall his name.  After
we started the downhill running, I made my way around them and kept cruising.
 Just before the Cole Butte aid station, I passed Matt Hillis.  Matt had
finished ahead of me at the Mt. Si 50 miler last April.  The section after
Cole Butte is on logging roads and predominately downhill.  I tried to run
smoothly and maintain a good pace to the Blowout Mountain aid station at 16
miles.  Bruce was coming into the aid station just as I left.

After the aid station, the course leaves the logging road and gets back on
trail, climbing some 600', then dropping 300' and regaining 200' to connect
with the Pacific Crest trail.  The Crest trail then follows a ridgeline for
six miles before dropping down to Tacoma Pass (24 miles).  At the Tacoma Pass
aid station, I topped off the water bottles, grabbed some watermelon dipped
in salt and headed back onto the trail.  The trail climbs through old growth
for a short distance and then enters an old clear-cut.  The sun was beating
down and the humidity had gotten quite high.  With no hint of a breeze, I
went from relatively comfortable to painting the side of an old stump with
orange electrolyte drink in very short order.  After visiting two more stumps
and deciding there was nothing left to come up, I started hiking.
Twenty-five miles in and hurling, this was not good.  I swapped bottles to
drink plain water and sucked on a mint Lifesaver.  Or at least I tried to.
I've never had a Lifesaver last so long.  I gave up any thought of running
for a while and concentrated on getting some fluids in.  The small sips of
water stayed down and eventually I was able to take in some gel and a few
fish crackers.  When I was relatively certain that was all going to stay
down, I took an electrolyte capsule.  I also worried about how the heat was
affecting my friend Bob who was attempting his first 100 mile run.  Bob has
plenty of endurance and strength to complete the course, but has had problems
with the heat in the past.  Unfortunately, I learned later that Bob had
problems in the same location I did, struggled on to Stampede Pass, and then
decided to call it a day.

At some point along in this stretch, Bruce caught and passed me, followed
shortly by Tom Hayes.  I maintained contact with them for a while.  They
would pull away on the uphills and I would catch back up on the downs.  I
eventually lost touch some time before Snowshoe Butte (30 miles).  Lary
Webster was part of the crew at this aid station in the middle of nowhere.
Lary doesn't run much anymore, but seems to be at almost all of the local
runs, helping out.  He claims to enjoy it as much as running and I'm always
glad to see and talk with him.

>From Snowshoe Butte, I kept nibbling on sports bars, crackers and gel.  I
didn't feel like eating, but knew I had to if I was going to keep moving
forward.  At the time, all I could think of was how good the mocha
frappachino was going to taste that I had stashed in the drop box at Stampede
Pass (35.5 miles).  That, and how much I needed to empty my shoes out.  There
were some small rocks and dirt that were starting to get irritating.

Bruce and Tom were heading out from Stampede Pass as I came in.  After
grabbing my drop box, I sat down and started to get set for the next segment.
 My flashlight went into the waist pack, the mocha would stay out to drink on
the trail.  I changed into a short sleeved shirt and began to untie my shoes.
 The aid station volunteers had been refilling my bottles and bringing me
coke to drink and Rob Grant (who was crewing and pacing for my friend Rob
Smith) was also helping out.  I was just going to brush off the dirt and put
on clean socks, but Rob grabbed a bucket, sponge and towel and proceeded to
wash and dry my feet.  Rob, you're right, it did feel great.  In a
surprisingly short amount of time, I was back on the trail and still ahead of
my splits from the previous year.  I wanted to try and improve at least a
little on the splits from 2001 in the first half of the course, but knew the
real times to improve were in the second half.

>From Stampede Pass it was on to Meadow Mountain (42.5 miles).  Most of the
Pacific Crest trail is clear and runnable along this stretch.  However, there
were some sections closer to Meadow Mountain that were quite overgrown.
Apparently, Randy didn't carry his weed whacker when he and Tim ran the
course to mark it the week before the race.  I was walking a slight grade,
wondering why I hadn't gotten to Meadow Mountain yet when I saw someone
standing near the trail.  I started to run again when the person comments,
"So, you see somebody and decide to run again, huh."  It was my friend Mark
Hartinger, who had pulled me along to a PR finish at Mt. Si in April.  Turns
out that Mark and Gene Trahern were running the Meadow Mountain aid station
with the expert assistance of their kids.  Guys, I think the kids were doing
most of the work.

The trail from Meadow Mountain to Olallie Meadows (49 miles) is one of my
favorite sections of the course.  The trail is generally good, and the climbs
not too long.  The rolling terrain suits my running style - run downhill fast
and then walk a while.  I was pushing pretty good, trying to put in as much
distance as I could before it got dark.  At long last, I broke out of the
trees and headed down to the Olallie Meadows aid station and their famous
pirogies.  I topped off the water bottles, drank a coke, got my picture
taken, and headed downhill with two pirogies.  At this point, I think I was 8
or 9 minutes ahead of last year's time.

The CCC course leaves the Pacific Crest trail after Olallie Meadows and
descends an old road bed.  The road bed is steep and rocky, but that is the
easy part.  After getting off of the road, you grab a hand-line and drop
through some decaying logging debris, traverse side-slope through some brush,
and finally decend (via yet another hand-line) a loose, dirt and rock slope
between thickly grown trees.  Having used the same course now for 4 years,
there is almost getting to be a trail to follow.  This year, there were so
many glow sticks, that finding the route wasn't even a question.

With the mountaineering adventure completed, I stepped onto the relative
free-way of the John Wayne Trail.  I don't mind the trail, but have always
dreaded the tunnel.  This abandoned railroad tunnel is straight, slightly
inclined from West to East, and just over 2.5 miles long.  These are the
longest 2.5 miles on earth.  I had decided to walk some through the tunnel,
just to break up the running monotony.  This worked until I looked back and
saw a light entering the tunnel. I knew I had been in the tunnel for quite a
while, but couldn't gauge the distance back to the other runner.  Well, if
they're going to catch me, I'm at least going to be running.  I ran through a
bit of fog until I reached Randy's "surprise", grabbed my poker chip and
headed on out of the tunnel.  From this point, the course left the John Wayne
trail and followed frontage roads beside and under I-90 to the Hyak aid
station at 55 miles.

My friend Bob was at Hyak, so I knew the race had not gone well for him.  He
confirmed my fears about the heat being the problem and then helped me refill
my bottles and get set for the next leg.  A cup of soup, some  ibuprofen, and
a mocha frappachino for the road, and I was off.  I was leaving the aid
station when Liz McGoff came in.  Liz went on to finish in around 23:30 (I
think), good for first woman and a new course record.

My hips were getting a bit sore with the pavement running and the pounding
from the previous several hours, but the ibuprofen soon took the edge off and
I managed to run most of the paved road portion.  I didn't run much of the
next several miles as the gravel road climbed up to the aid station at
Keechelus Ridge (62 miles).  Each time I tried to pick up the pace, my body
said go back to walking.  So, I hiked as strongly as I could, eating a bit
and trying to run whenever there was a level or downhill section.  The moon
finally got up over the ridge and I was able keep going without any light.  I
entered the aid station in the dark and found John Morelock there, assisting.
 I sat for a bit eating some soup and then headed back into the night.

The next road section was nearly all downhill and I ran almost all of it with
only the moon lighting the way.  Only when I got down in the treed section
did I have to turn my flashlight back on.  I kept pushing, trying to run as
much as I could and minimizing the length of the walking stints.  Soon, the
welcome lights of the Kachess Lake aid station (mile 70) came into view.  I
changed socks, refueled (more mocha frap!) and change batteries in my
flashlight, just in case.  The grilled cheese sandwiches and raviolie didn't
appeal to me, but a slice of deli ham tasted great.  I was just finishing up
when another runner came into the aid station.  Where did he come from?  The
runner turned out to be Tim Halder, who was doing his first 100 miler.  He
had been taking it easy for the first half of the course, and was running
very well.

After all the road running from Hyak, the next section can be quite a shock.
You leave the road and play connect the glow sticks and flagging where there
is essentially no trail.  Through brush, over blowdowns, under logs too big
to climb over and too long to go around. I was having a blast.  Then the
lights went out.  Even with a nearly full moon, it is very dark in the forest
at night.  I knew the batteries were fresh, so assumed that the bulb must
have gone out.  I pulled out my single LED Photon and tried to continue with
it.  On a normal trail, it would have been fine, but on this non-trail, I
needed more light and replaced the bulb in my regular flashlight.  After a
few more glow sticks, I reached the Little Kachess trail.  The first portion
of the trail is nice and wide and groomed.  It is deceptive, it allows you to
relax and then you reach the aforemention "trail from hell".  Scrambling up
rocks, dropping down 2 or 3 foot steps, roots, mud, more rocks.  Traversing
ledges alongside the lake where a mis-step will get you wet (after you fall a
while).  This was my favorite 5 miles of the course.  Yes, it was hard.  Yes
it went up, then down, then back up again, but it was always entertaining.
Nearing the end of this madness, I caught up with Tom Hayes who was pondering
whether to cross a stream on a log that was rather high up, or to find some
other means across.  I didn't recall the log from the previous year, so I
decided to take the low road and scrambled down to the stream, hopping across
on the rocks.  Tom followed behind, but I was on a roll, having fun and
gradually pulled away.  I was actually running a fair amount of the time and
soon reached the log crossing over Mineral Creek, that I did remember from
last year.  Over the log(s) and up the trail to the road and the lights of
the Mineral Creek (mile 75) aid station were soon in view.

I had been looking forward to the Mineral Creek aid station and dreading it
at the same time.  I was looking forward to meeting the one and only Geri
Kilgariff, who I knew would be working at that aid station.  I was not
looking forward to the long seven miles of logging road that climbed some
2500 feet to the next aid station. Geri had just given me a cup of soup when
another runner came into the light of the aid station.  I had expected it to
be Tom Hayes, but instead it was Tim Halder.  Tim looked very strong and I
told him I would see him again soon on the road as I headed up the hill.
Back into the moon light and out of the trees, my flashlight was no longer
necessary.  I went back into "hike with a purpose" mode and forged on up the
road.  Even though I was hiking along at a good rate, it wasn't terribly long
until Tim caught up with me.  We chatted briefly and then he hiked away.  I
guess I wasn't walking as fast as I thought.  Turns out that I wasn't the
only person that Tim caught - he ended up passing everyone else and finished
first, just a few minutes off of Scott Eppleman's course record of 21:38.
Simply amazing for a first 100 mile effort.  Congratulations, Tim!

My recollections of the road section from 2001 were fuzzy and not pleasant.
Rob Smith and I were asleep on our feet and in death march mode going up the
hill.  This year, the distance passed more quickly, even though I found
myself drifting off to sleep at times.  I'd be in the center of the road and
then suddenly realize that I was getting very close to walking off one side
or the other.  When I finally came through the last grove of trees and saw
the lights of the No Name Ridge aid station (mile 82), I knew I was well
ahead of  last year's pace.  In 2001, the sun was just coming up when I hit
this point.  In 2002, it was still very dark.  A quick cup of soup, a bottle
refill, and I was back on the trail.  Being well ahead of last year's pace
was great, but it also presented an additional difficulty - I had to navigate
the first portion of the "Cardiac Needles" in the dark.  Some portions of the
trail were rather faint, but the diamond-shaped reflectors kept me on track.
The climbs and decents along the ridge were as tough as I remembered.
Actually, the climb just before the Thorpe Mt. aid station (mile 86) seemed
harder this year than last.  It was good to see the volunteers there and then
head up to the Thorpe Mt. lookout to get my poker chip.  By this time, it was
getting light enough that I didn't need my flashlight any more, so it was
stashed in the pack along with a topped off water bottle.

The course profile after Thorpe Mt. looks generally downhill.  However, there
are a couple of nasty climbs that await before reaching the aid station at
French Cabin Mountain (mile 89.5).  I pushed up these slopes, not paying any
attention to the beautiful views, just trying to get them done with.  When I
reached the familiar open areas above French Cabin, I knew the worst was
over.  I ran the downhill as strongly as I could and pounded my way into the
aid station.  I didn't take anything to eat from the aid station and just
topped off the bottles and took two ibuprofen.  Tim Stroh was working here
and indicated it was 6:55 AM as I left the aid station.  They were also
reminding me which way to turn at the bottom of the hill, but I was cruising
and not concerned.  Afterall, I had run this section last year, right?  It
was here that I nearly shot myself in the foot.  Instead of heading right
toward the gap at French Cabin Mt., I continued left, down the French Cabin
Creek trail.  Here I was, "flying" down the hill going the wrong way.
Luckily, my muddled brain wasn't completely shut down and I realized that I
was getting further from the notch on an unfamiliar trail.  Damn, now I've
got to climb back up and figure out where I went wrong.  By 7:06, I was back
where I should have been and figuring that my shot at breaking 23 hours had
just gone out the window.  I looked at my pace card, but couldn't manage the
mental math to figure out how fast I needed to run.  So, I just kept moving,
trying not to walk too much and trying not to get discouraged about my bonus
mileage.

The trail along the Silver Creek was generally good and I wanted to run all
of it, but my legs kept saying walk for a while.  At long last, I reached the
downhill segment, just prior to the Silver Creek aid station.  It was after
8:00 AM and I still had around 4 miles to go.  Somehow, my legs returned.  I
was running the downhill about as fast as I could have on fresh legs.  I
caught Bruce Hoff and his pacer at the start of this section.  Shortly after
passing Bruce, I met a group of 6 or 7 mountain bikers.  The lead biker
yelled "runner" and they all bailed off to the side of the trail. Some were
still getting off their bikes when I blitzed by, bounding across rocks at the
edge of the trail.  I rounded a corner and then remembered to yell that there
were more runners behind me.  Don't know if they heard me or not.

I hit the Silver Creek aid station (mile 96.6) with a full head of steam and
didn't even slow down, just yelling my number as I ran through.  I kept
pushing along the flats and across under the powerlines.  Up ahead, I could
see another runner and pacer.  I was closing ground pretty quickly and caught
Jamie Gifford and his pacer Jim Kirby just as we turned the corner into the
trees and the snow mobile path.  Jamie had run a great race, but was walking
most of the time at this point.  Jim checked with Jamie and ended up running
the last stretch with me.  Thanks to both of you for this favor, Jim likely
made me run faster than I would have on my own.  As it was, we were only a
few hundred yards from the finish line and I was closing quickly on Scott
Eppelman.  Now there was a shock, me closing on Scott Eppelman at the end of
a race.  Scott heard us coming and found another gear.  At that point, I had
no gears left and was happy just to finish.  Official time 22:40:17 and third
overall.

I know this has been a long report, but it was a long race;-)  Thanks for
reading and congratulations to all who ran, whether you went the full
distance or not, it was a tough run.  Unfortunately, I don't know the race
results.  I do know that Jamie finished fourth in under 23 hours.  Bruce Hoff
was fifth.  Other finishers included Rob Smith in just under 26 hours, Tony
Covarrubias in just over 28 hours and Ron Nichol in about 29:30.

Kendall Kreft
Lake Stevens, WA