2001 Western States Challenge
                                    By John Wood

It’s 4:30 AM Monday morning, June 25.  I’m in a motel room in California drinking a 
beer and looking for a piece of leftover pizza to eat.  It takes a few seconds to 
figure out what day it is.  I think back to 24 hours earlier and recall being on the 
Auburn Lakes Trail section of the Western States Trail feeling great after making a 
miraculous recovery from a bonked condition at the river crossing, 22 miles from the 
finish line.   24 hours before that, we were just lining up for the start of the 
run.  I am overwhelmed with satisfaction that I have completed my first Western 
States 100-mile endurance run.

Running and completing the Western States event is what every serious ultra-runner 
dreams of.  This 100-mile course was the first organized event of this distance in 
the world and has quite a following.  A search on the Internet will bring up all the 
information about the history and present day facts for this event. It is so popular 
that applicants are selected by lottery to gain entry.  The maximum number of 
participants that are allowed to run it in any one year is a little over 400.  I 
never expected to have my name drawn the first year I applied, but it happened, 
along with 6 other folks from the Tampa Bay area. These runners included Miles and 
Barbara Frye-Krier, Pete Pfannerstill, Dan Miller, Jim Bodoh, Jack Butterick, and 
myself.  This was my 2nd 100-mile run, after completing Vermont last year.

I won’t say much about what happened on the trip out and back from California. That 
is an entirely different story, but let me say that it is possible to get on a plane 
without ID (ask Dan), and it is possible to transport 5 people with 6 pieces of 
luggage from the airport to home in a Plymouth Horizon (ask Hazel Miller).  These 
minor problems had very little effect on the wonderful time we had on the trip. The 
good thing is that we had our families to crew and watch out for us.  

On Friday morning, we checked in at Squaw Valley and had the brief medical check up.  
Our blood pressure, weight and pulse were recorded on armbands that were placed on 
our wrists. We were required to wear this band until we were done with the race.  
Friday afternoon we attended a mandatory pre-race briefing and about all I remember 
was a comment made about first time runners from Florida.  I recall hearing 
something like “ … in case you haven’t noticed, we have mountains out here”.  I 
took that comment as a sarcastic remark, suggesting that Florida runners can’t 
handle the terrain.  It made me want to try even harder to complete this run.  The 
rest of the day was spent organizing our gear, eating, and getting some rest.  
Trudi, Hazel, and Danielle decided to do an hour of horseback riding in Squaw 
Valley.

Just before 2:00 AM on Saturday, I woke up, took a quick shower and munched on some 
food from the breakfast bar. The motel was gracious enough to set out the breakfast 
early enough for the runners.  We drove to Squaw Valley, picked up our bibs, and 
waited for the 5:00 AM start.  We lined up in the top ¼ of the field as was 
recommended by Miles.  It is critical not to be caught behind slower runners early 
on because there is so much single-track trail that you cannot pass.  We had a goal 
of completing in 24 hours and this requires a pretty aggressive start.

The shotgun fired promptly at 5:00 AM and we started the long climb to Emigrant 
Pass.  This climb is 2500 feet over 3.7 miles and is really just a swift walk for 
most people.  The temperature was about 57 degrees, which was about 10 degrees above 
what has been typically recorded in previous years.  I wore only a lightweight 
singlet but was still sweating pretty hard after the first mile.  I began drinking 
water immediately.  I glanced over at Pete Pfannerstill and could see that he was 
sweating pretty heavily as well. Unlike my first 100 in Vermont, I felt some stress 
from the significant climb and did not feel comfortable.  The air was thin from the 
high altitude and I was breathing much harder then I expected. 

The 5 people from Pinellas County had agreed to try to stay close together so that 
we could offer each other support to try and keep on a planned schedule.  I saw a 
problem immediately with this plan as we neared the top of the first big climb. I 
had to make an emergency pit stop so I moved ahead searching for a big tree.  When I 
got back in line, I saw our group about 30 yards ahead but could not catch up 
because of the single-track trail and the 30 people I could not pass.  Going over 
the top of the mountain gave me the sensation of being on a roller coaster.  We went 
from barely moving to suddenly flying down the mountain. The next 1 ½ hours of 
running was on rough single track trail that was occasionally wet in places, but 
there was no snow here because of unusually warm weather.  As soon as the trail 
widened, I passed several people and caught up to Miles and Pete.  I ducked in the 
bushes again for a pit stop and then ran hard to catch up to Pete, passing Miles on 
the way.  Pete and I came into the Lyon Ridge aid station together and according to 
my watch, we were about 15 minutes behind schedule.  

The next section started out with some pretty good climbs so I power walked the 
uphills.  We were in the Granite Chief Wilderness area along some mountain ridges 
with outstanding views.  As I passed next to Cougar Rock, a photographer snapped my 
picture as I was struggling over a steep rock.  Soon we hit some very dusty sections 
with a series of steep drops.  I remember trying to push the pace in an attempt to 
catch up with Dan and Barb.  After a while I became frustrated with my seemingly 
slow pace and just gave up trying to catch them.  Little did I know that they were 
behind me.   I played cat and mouse with a guy from San Diego.  He would come flying 
by me on the downhills and I would pass him on the uphills.  Running downhill seemed 
to be my weakness and I always yielded the way to those that were breathing down my 
neck.  Soon we came into Red Star Ridge aid station.  I bellowed out our running 
club call but did not hear a return call.  I was only 9 minutes behind schedule at 
this station. I crammed down some food and filled the water bottles.  As I got ready 
to leave, Pete came in and I tried to ask him about Dan and Barb but he got in a 
hurry to get a drop bag so I just moved on out at a slow pace.

It seemed like forever before I got to Duncan Canyon aid station.  I could feel 
fatigue and stress.  The dust was incredible and even though I had a dust mask in my 
hip pack, I did not put it on because I felt it would restrict my breathing even 
further.  The trail was a series of rapid declines with a few uphill sections.  I 
had lost complete contact with my teammates.  When I got to Duncan Creek I decided I 
would try to cross on the rocks to keep my feet dry.  This was a little tricky and 
as I started across, I began to lose my balance. I flung my arms and knocked the guy 
behind me partially into the water.  I made it across without soaking my feet and 
apologized profusely to the guy behind me.  We began the long climb up to Robinson 
Flat.  There were only a few short sections that I could run here.  It was on this 
climb that I began to realize that the 24-hour goal was probably not going to happen 
today.  When I got to Robinson, I weighed in and was surprised to see I had lost 2 
pounds, so I grabbed a little food and found Hazel and Trudi. I was 33 minutes 
behind the 24-hour schedule and seemed quite exhausted for only 30 miles into the 
run.  Trudi and Hazel’s first words were,  “what is going on and where is 
everyone?”  I told them that Miles is hanging back with Pete who seems to be having 
trouble and Dan and Barb are about ½ hour ahead of me.  They looked at me like I had 
two heads and said “no way, we have been here for over an hour and no one has come 
through”.  I was totally perplexed and just sat down in a chair to rest.  I 
couldn’t believe I was leading the group and I was concerned that I had overexerted 
myself.  I ate, drank, and rested for 12 minutes and walked out of the aid station 
just as I heard some of our team signaling their arrival.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	

The terrain down to Deep Canyon is rugged with sharp drops but the trail is wide.  I 
completely refocus and try to get relaxed hoping that Miles or Barb will come along 
so we can talk.  I run with the Safety Patrol for a while and this helps.  Soon 
Monica Scholz comes on up and we chat for a while.  She is the well-known lady from 
Canada that has completed something like 16 separate 100-mile runs last season.  It 
is nice to be able to chat with someone with such notoriety.  After a couple of 
miles I can not keep up with her pace.  Soon I find myself on an easy gravel road 
and cruise the downhills nicely.  After navigating Deep Canyon, which is no big 
deal, I pass through Dusty Corners and see Lisa Pfannerstill.  I tell her that the 
rest of the group is not far behind.  It is a quick run to Last Chance (43.3 miles) 
where I get weighed in at 146, down 4 pounds from my starting weight.  I am starting 
to get concerned about this weight loss.  I continue to drink and eat but I am 
burning calories too quickly. It is getting tougher to drink and eat because of a 
little upset stomach.

The descent into Devil’s Canyon is steep and treacherous.  My quads are hurting from 
so much braking and I have to pull off the trail at times to let the speedsters go 
by.  It seems like it takes forever to get to the bottom but I am glad to get there.  
The walk up the other side is equally as long but I do good, only stopping one time 
to exchange a water bottle between my hip pack and my hand strap carrier.  There is 
a line of 8 people in front of me and I only look at the heels of someone’s feet as 
I climb. There are 36 switchbacks on this section of the trail.  We come into 
Devil’s Thumb aid station (47.8 miles) and now I weight 145 ½.  It’s 4:30 PM and I 
sit down in a chair for a short while, eating peanut butter and drinking, while 
icing my quads.  I leave the station but have to come back because I forget my hat.   
No sooner do I start running again and it’s a very steep downhill into the El Dorado 
Creek Canyon.  I’m definitely feeling an upset stomach, but now I have the urge to 
get to my crew at Michigan Bluff.  The climb up is not quite as steep but is very 
long and fatiguing.   I continue to focus on the rest that I am about to take when I 
get to the top.

I arrived at Michigan Bluff (55.7 miles) at exactly 7:00 PM.  My weight is 145 and I 
tell my crew that I am in a half-bonked condition.  They help me change my socks and 
ice my quads.  I drink some split pea soup that Trudi has made for me, and nibble on 
the meat from a hamburger.  My stomach is very upset and I end up being there for 27 
minutes.  We discuss the possibility that I may not have a crew at Foresthill 
because of the need to use the crew for those that are behind me.  I am ok with that 
situation and take my flashlights with me as I leave the station.  Other members our 
team signal their arrival just as I leave.  About 1 mile out of town I see Dick 
Laine jogging toward me and I shake his hand.  He is on his way to Michigan Bluff to 
pace someone to the finish.  I know Dick as an instructor at a Harris Corporation 
seminar I took in Melbourne, Florida in the early 90’s.  We were both at the Vermont 
100 last year.

The descent down Volcano Canyon is once again killing my quads.  I am doing more 
braking with my toes now while trying to keep my legs straight and leaning back.  
The bottoms of my feet are very sore.  I hit the paved road near the Bath Road aid 
station and power walk up the hill, arriving at Foresthill (62 miles) about 9:00 PM.  
I need my flashlight just for a few minutes while I come into town.  Pete 
Pfannerstill is there and explained that he had to drop out, but has arranged for me 
to have a pacer from Rucky Chucky to the finish.  I am not happy about not having a 
pacer for the 16 mile trek to the river but I accept it and move out of the station 
after the medical check and after icing my quads for a couple of minutes.  My weight 
is 145 ½.

The California loop section is fairly easy but I am moving slow with a bad feeling 
in my stomach.  I am not real comfortable running in the dark while completely 
exhausted, but make it to Dardanelles aid station with little problem.  I sit there 
again icing my quads and trying to eat.  Soon Barb and her pacer arrive and I am 
able to tag along behind, walking and occasionally jogging.  Barb is not her usual 
self at this point and seems content with only making forward progress at any speed.  
I follow her into Peachstone and have to take a longer break and fall behind, but 
eventually catch up on the short trek to Ford’s Bar station.  Out of Ford’s Bar, I 
can not run at all and walk all the way to Rucky Chucky.  I never expect to see Barb 
again until the finish.  The trail all along the section from Foresthill to Rucky 
Chucky is really pretty easy and 99% of it can be run if you have legs that are 
willing.  The only bad thing about it is the choking dust that hangs in the air 
throughout the night.

I arrive at Rucky Chucky (78 miles) at 2:12 AM and they check my weight.  I am at 
143 pounds and the medical personnel declare that I am down 5% and must stop to 
drink and eat.  They get no argument from me. No wonder I am exhausted. They check 
my blood pressure and pulse and put a wool blanket over me because I am shivering.  
The vital signs are all ok. My pacer, Pete, is there and helps get me chicken noodle 
soup and small portions of various types of food.  We try everything, but strangely 
enough, M&M’s and cola seem to be sitting well.  It seems like we are there for 
almost an hour but it ends up being 24 minutes.  Miles comes through and we chat for 
a second.  My digestive system feels much better after the rest but my legs are very 
stiff and I have a hard time making it down the rocks to the river edge.   We get 
across with the aid of a cable and the water ends up only coming up to the bottom of 
my shorts.  On the other side, I have a drop bag waiting and Pete helps me change my 
socks and shoes.  I put a long sleeve Coolmax shirt on.  Over to my right, I see 
Jack Butterick from Tampa, changing his shoes as well.  He looks as tired as I feel.  
Pete and I power walk up to the Green Gate.  My legs still work good for walking up 
hills.

I get to chat with Pete for a few minutes as we walk.  He seems to read my condition 
very well and knows that I should not be pushed at this point.  He tells me that he 
is from Sacramento and was originally going to pace Miles, hoping to get some 
marathon training in on this last 22-mile section.  I tell him that once we get to 
the flat areas, I want to try running.  I actually pass Miles on the uphill climb 
and can’t believe he is not way ahead of me.  He passes me at the Green Gate while I 
eat more M&M’s and drink cola.  We hit some flat trail sections and I begin jogging.  
My quads are screaming at me for about a minute but soon loosen up.  I feel 
something very different and realize that my stomach is no longer upset. 

What happens for the next several hours is what I would consider a small miracle.  I 
begin to feel better as the miles go by.  We move through night, running along all 
the easy sections of the trail and only walking where there are rocky or rutted out 
sections.  I barely remember passing Miles and didn’t even stop to talk.  At Auburn 
Lakes aid station (85.2 miles) they weigh me at 146 ½ and round it up to 147.  Every 
time I stop, it is painful to get moving again for a few seconds, so I try to 
continue running where possible.  A couple of times I get out of control and go too 
fast.  Pete gets in front of me to keep my pace at a more controllable and steady 
level.  All the time we are passing other runners.  Soon we see a slight glimmer of 
light in the sky and it is about an hour before dawn.  Dawn does not come early 
enough since my flashlight is beginning to dim.  I have used my last set of 
batteries.  The Titanium batteries just do not hold up as advertised and I would 
have been better off with just plain alkaline batteries.  Sometime, just before 5:30 
AM, everything comes to a screeching halt as my right foot hooks a root on the side 
of the trail and I go flying head over heels off the trail.  I remember lying on my 
back on a steep 45-degree embankment a few feet off the trail.  Pete is there, 
trying to assess the situation.  I tell him that I don’t thing anything is broken 
and he tries to pull me up.  This doesn’t work since I feel like my arm is being 
pulled out of its socket.   I use the heels of my hands and the heels of my feet to 
push myself backward up to the trail, lifting my butt with each effort.  As it ends 
up, I only have a turned wrist and some bloody scrapes from the briar bushes.  
Fortunately there were no rocks in the area where I fell. The whole ordeal lasts 
about 5 to 6 minutes and soon I am back to running again, this time with a little 
more adrenaline in my system as a result of the fall.   As daylight arrives, we 
continue to pass runners, seeing some that are totally bonked out along the side of 
the trail.  

A couple of miles before Hwy 49, we are running on a gravel path.  I am moving like 
a madman with Pete by my side.  I am amazed to see Barb and her pacer, Kathy, just 
in front of me.  I give out a weak club call and pass without even stopping to talk.  
I tell Pete that we are going right up the hill without stopping.  I’m sure he is 
wondering where I got all this strength.  I am wondering that myself but I’m only 
thinking of the few more miles that we have until the end.  We eventually have to 
walk as the hills get steeper and the trail turns off the “super highway” path.  
We come into Hwy 49 (93.5 miles) at 7:08 AM and my wife, Trudi is there with a big 
hug for me.  I am only at the station for 7 minutes.  My weight is 145. We walk out 
of the station and up the incline to some very beautiful meadows.  A few people pass 
me but soon I am passing them as we get back into a running pace.  In a short while 
we drop down to No Hands bridge (96.8 miles) and I drink some water and move quickly 
across the bridge.  I am feeling a little fatigue but still in a very competitive 
mode.  I see the gent from San Diego just taking his shirt off and I tell Pete that 
we will move right on by quickly.  I am playing the runner’s strategy game by moving 
past folks so quickly that I hope they won’t even try to challenge me.  One or two 
runners are doing the same to me and I watch them closely to see if they are 
bluffing.  If they slow too quickly, I will try to catch them.  As we start the 
climb to Robie Point, I really start to feel tired and my mind drifts between not 
caring any more and “lets just get this thing over with”.  My pacer is a great 
help here by staying just in front of me. I concentrate on his heels and forget 
about every other discomfort that I am feeling.  We walk out of the aid station and 
up the paved road.  Pete Pfannerstill is there to greet our team members and it is 
good to see him. I can smell the barn now and as the road levels off I start running 
again but it is very painful.  We pass one more runner on the way down to the track.  
I hear them announce my name as I run hard around the track for a finish time of 27 
hours and 49 minutes.

They take my weight and it is back down to 143.  I get the warning about eating and 
drinking and I see them keeping an eye on me for a while.  I thank my pacer, Pete 
for his tremendous help and tell him, in a humorous gesture, that I was glad to 
assist in his marathon training.  He says I was pretty gutsy to make the strong 
effort at the end.  Later, when I review all the results, I see that we passed a 
total of 44 runners from the River crossing to the end (22 miles).  There were no 
runners that left after me at river and finished in front of me. Unfortunately, Pete 
has to take off right away to get to work so I am left by myself, while the crew is 
assisting the rest of the team.  I am a little bummed that not even my wife could be 
here to see me finish, but that is the problem when crews are shared between runners 
and there is not an extra car.

It doesn’t take long for Barb and Miles to come in.  Apparently they met up shortly 
after Hwy 49 and they crossed the finish line together.  A little while later, Jack 
Butterick came in with his family pacing him on the track and eventually Jim Bodah 
came in.  From here out, things started to get real interesting as we tried to get a 
status on Dan Miller.  Barb, Miles and I were really hoping he would make it, but 
for a flatlander that weighs about 200 pounds, we knew it would take a combination 
of extreme determination, guts and some good fortune.  As the clock clicked closer 
to 11:00 AM our hopes began to fade, but suddenly he appeared on the track and with 
the help of his daughter, wife, pacer, and a lot of cheers he finished in 29 hours 
and 54 minutes.  We were all so proud of him for toughing it out and no doubt, his 
feelings of completing this will be with him for the rest of his life.

In conclusion, I want to thank all the families, teammates, crews and volunteers for 
making this a very significant day in my life.  I am grateful to my pacer Pete and 
wish we could have had some more time to chat but I understand about work 
obligations.  Miles did a great job in preparing us with his coaching and training 
techniques.  I realize now that we really needed some mountain training to be able 
to beat the 24-hour standard.  Nevertheless, the Florida folks did pretty darn good 
in the California mountains.