Subject: Another Western States Experience (long) Date: Mon, 10 Jul 2000 16:08:17 -0700 From: "Bob Steele" After reading Jay Freeman's terrific recounting of his escaping the cutoffs, I had to submit the article I wrote for our local club newsletter about my experience pacing the last sub-24 hour finisher Chuck Jones. Anyway, here it is. Bob Steele steele@ridgecrest.ca.us Mission Impossible. That's what Chuck Jones called his attempt at 24 hours and a silver buckle at Western States 100. After an injury plagued training season leading up to the race, he was unsure if the attempt would cause him a DNF. By early June it appeared that his fitness was good and he had had an excellent three days at WS training camp Memorial Day weekend. He asked me what I thought with about 2 weeks to go and I told him to go for it. We decided that if he could hold the pace in the early going, we would see what would happen later in the race. We also decided that we would evaluate the situation at the first aid station that I could meet him at (30 miles), and if 24 hour pace was too difficult to maintain he would back off and just try for a finish. He already had a sub-thirty hour finish from 98 and really wanted a silver buckle. It was my job to push him to his limit. Race day started with the temperature in the 40's at Squaw Valley. This was a little warmer than he would have liked because it indicated that hot temperature would await him in the canyons later in the day. At 5:00 AM, and with the blast of a shotgun, he was on his way up the 2500-foot climb to Immigrant Gap. His crew - Carol, Dawn, and myself - headed for the Robinson Flat aid station at mile 30. The Western States entrant's book gives runners a timeline that they need to make at the major aid stations along the way to accomplish 24 hours. We knew he needed to be there at 11:30 AM to be on schedule. At 11:20 he came in to the aid station. As we were getting him ready to go out again, he told me he was working way too hard and he couldn't keep it up. I looked him over, decided that he was OK for now, gave him a few choice words, and kicked his butt out of the aid station. The next time we would see him would be at Michigan Bluff (mile 55.7) and we could evaluate the situation then. If he could navigate the hot canyons, climb Devil's Thumb, and make it to Michigan on schedule, he would have a chance. Nothing to do now but wait. The 24-hour schedule would put him in to Michigan at 5:30 PM. And at 5:30, just like clockwork, in he came. He had worked real hard in the hot canyons and looked it. He started talking again about how he was working too hard and couldn't keep it up. But to me he still looked pretty good and I didn't think he was ready to give up on his dream. I gave him another pep talk, stuffed a sandwich in his hand, and told him to walk for a while. I thought maybe some energy and a little rest might get him going again. I knew from experience that ultra runners have good times and bad throughout the course of a long event and that he was having one of the bad times. I was hopeful that he could bounce back quickly and stay on schedule. I was to pick him up at the Bath Road aid station at mile 60.4. I hoped that he could hold up till then and he would maybe even feel a little better. He was due in at Bath Road at 6:45. I arrived at about 6:30. 6:45 came and went. So did 6:50, and 6:55. I was worried. At nearly 7:00 PM he came running in to the aid station. I was glad to see him running and he had a smile on his face. He said that he felt much better and was ready to go. He knew he was behind schedule and wanted to run up the long hill to Forrest Hill aid station (mile 62). I suggested we hike the hill and save some of that energy for the excellent running trails from Forrest Hill to the River Crossing (mile 78). He agreed and off we went. We made it in to Forrest Hill at 7:15. Carol and Dawn had all our night running stuff and other supplies ready. We gave Chuck a little break and got some food in him. At 7:30 we left Forrest Hill for the river. He was 30 minutes behind schedule and knew it. He was running real well at this point and we discussed the possibilities of still making 24 hours. If we could make up some time on the next 18-mile stretch down to the river, we knew he would have a good chance. We decided to just try to get 5 minutes back at each aid station. By Dardanelles (mile 65.7) we had gotten 10 minutes back and were now 20 minutes behind. Things were looking up. At Peachstone (mile 70.7) we had given it all back. It was now time to lie and coerce. I told him that we had stayed even and were only 20 minutes off. He was running so well at this point I didn't want him to get discouraged. I also wasn't real sure that the splits we had for these aid stations between Forrest Hill and the river were real accurate. And it's much more pleasant pacing a happy runner. At Ford's Bar (mile 73) it didn't appear we had gained anything on the timeline. I lied some more. I decided I would tell him the truth at the river now 5 miles away. That last 5 miles to the river has some excellent trails and Chuck was running with purpose. We arrived at the river at precisely at 11:00 and amazingly right back on schedule. All right! He had run this 18-mile section from Forrest Hill in 3.5 hours. In training a month before, and on fresh legs, it had taken 3 hours. Incredible. The river crossing was amazing. Imagine a waist deep 30-yard width of the American River with a rope stretched across it and volunteers in chest waders spaced about every 5 yards. In the dark! It had been so hot and muggy in the canyon that we both enjoyed the cool water. Of course now we had wet shoes and socks and a 1.7-mile hike up to the Green Gate aid station (mile 79.8) where new shoes awaited with Carol and Dawn. As we hiked up the side of the American River canyon we discussed how close we were to the timeline and whether or not we wanted to give up 5 minutes for a shoe change. We decided that as long as Chuck's feet were OK at the aid station we would skip the change and move along. By the time we got there at 11:45 our shoes and socks were nearly dry. We re-supplied quickly thanks to Carol and Dawn hiking the 2 miles down to the aid station in the middle of the night. We were now 5 minutes behind and every second might make a difference. On to Auburn Lakes Trail (mile 85.2) on one of the nicest sections of running trail on the entire course. For a runner who has any legs left at this point in the race, this section is one for running. And run he did. As I followed behind I was truly amazed at how well he was doing. Occasionally I had to tell him to hike when he would be running at a pace that he could power hike just as fast. And every once in a while at the crest of a hill he had just hiked I had to remind him it was time to run again. But mostly he just ran. And ran. It was incredible. We came in to Auburn Lakes Trail at 1:05 AM, five minutes off schedule. With only 15 miles to go and no time to waste, we got out of the aid station quickly. The next aid station was Brown's Ravine at mile 89.9. The trail to Brown's was a level, mostly runnable section. Chuck ran it well and we arrived at Brown's right back on schedule. Brown's Ravine aide station is an indescribable place. Run by the Hash House Harriers, in what seems like the middle of nowhere, there is loud music and Christmas type lights everywhere. The guys at the aid station were very friendly. They knew exactly what time it was and that we were right on the bubble. It is so easy to become comfortable and hang around and rest at a great aid station. They unceremoniously threw us out. On to Highway 49 Crossing. The trail to 49 Crossing (mile 93.5) was mostly down hill with a 1-mile climb just before the aid station. Chuck continued to run and power hike well, and we made it to 49 at 3:15 AM, again 5 minutes behind schedule. Now it's getting critical. I had been carrying a hand held radio since leaving Bath Road and radioed ahead to alert the crew of our arrival. This was very helpful because they would have anything we needed ready. Chuck Lewis who had pulled out of the race earlier in the day, and his wife Linda, were there to greet us along with the rest of the crew. The pit stop was short and we were on our way again. A 1-mile climb brought us to Pointed Rocks. Now we had to descend a nasty rock and root strewn 2.5 mile stretch to No-hands Bridge aid station (mile 96.8). This was a particularly difficult trail for Chuck. A serious fall here could end it all. He ran it well though and we arrived at No-hands at 4:08 - two minutes ahead of schedule. Carol and Dawn had done a terrific job all day of saving Chuck time at aid stops. Now the new larger crew could administer to us separately and they had us both out of there in no time at all. Chuck dropped his waist pack and left with just a hand bottle for the race to the finish. 3.4 miles to go and 52 minutes left. Who ever designed the Western States course must have had a particularly sadistic streak when they picked out this last section. All of the last 3.4 miles except for the final .5 miles is up hill. Not just up hill but steeply up hill. The climb to Robie Point (mile 98.9) and the streets of Auburn is over 1000 feet. Chuck was now running on pure adrenaline and heart. He ran so hard that he dropped me about a quarter mile out of Robie. He arrived at Robie Point at 4:42 AM. He didn't even slow down. He dropped his hand bottle and just kept running. He still had to climb for about three-quarters of a mile before the final dash to the finish. I arrived a couple minutes later feeling the effects of 40 miles. Stick a fork in me, I am done. I had told Chuck earlier in the evening that it was bad form to drop your pacer but he did it anyway. Go figure. Chuck Lewis is standing at Robie when I arrived. He says to get my butt going that Chuck still needs me to push him. I tell him that it ain't going to happen. He tells me to get in his car and drives me up the couple hundred yards that I am behind. I jump out and start chasing Chuck. He is running like he is possessed. Up hill, after 99 miles, he is running 8 minute mile pace. I chase him for a while up the hill and he drops me again. I signal Chuck and Linda who are following us in their car to come over. I jump on the hood and we catch up again. I run some more shouting encouragement that I'm sure Chuck never hears. This isn't working. I am carrying my double bottle pack and pockets full of supplies and can't even begin to run this pace. I signal the car again and throw off all my stuff through the open car window. We finally crest the hill and have about a half-mile to the Placer High School stadium. At this point I have lost all track of time and have no idea how far it is to the stadium or how much time is left. All I can do is run and chase this mad man. We fly through the quiet city streets of Auburn. It is nearly 5:00 AM and we are screaming to him. Around another corner and there it is. Chuck enters the stadium and still has to run most of the way around the quarter-mile track to the finish. As I enter the stadium I get a chance to look at the official clock and see he has made it with more than enough time to finish under 24 hours. I decide that my job is done and turn to jog backward around the track to meet him at the finish. I stand there, with my arms in the air and tears in my eyes and watch him circle the track with form and dignity. He crosses the line at 23:55:26. We embrace. Mission Impossible is reality. Few times in our athletic lives do we get a chance to be part of something special. To help a friend accomplish his dream is something I will never forget. With these words I can never really portray the effort he went through. Just to finish a hundred-mile race is a remarkable accomplishment. To see him pour his heart and soul and give every last ounce of energy to this endeavor was truly awe inspiring. It was an honor and great privilege to be part of his dream. Bob Steele