From: stanj@ferrari.corp.sgi.com (Stan Jensen) Date: Mon, 8 Jul 1996 16:34:41 -0700 To: ius-l@american.edu, ultra@caligari.Dartmouth.EDU Subject: WS (250 lines too long; XP) SUMMARY This is a long, rambling report, but I hope if you wade through it you'll find something that interests you. The reading will be easier than running WS, but it won't be as much fun. BACKGROUND It all started in June 1993, when I was talked into going to Foresthill to pace Nigel Finney from Minnesota. I'd only been running ultras for two months, but a friend convinced me that I could be a pacer. Well, I waited at Foresthill from 4 until 8, when Nigel drove up and apologized for dropping out. I went to Pacer Central and was paired with Dot Helling from Vermont, who arrived in bad shape and only got worse. We ended a long night at Rucky Chucky, where she was pulled for weight loss. Despite all that, I applied for WS94. Rejected once, I paced Tom O'Connell in '94, applied for '95, got rejected, paced Wolf Polak in '95 and mailed in my WS96 application knowing that I was in. TEAM JENSEN My sister and her boyfriend, Jim, "volunteered" to be my crew and Diane Eastman was able to find two wonderful pacers for me: Jim Pepin and Shiela Hunter. After we met at Squaw, I learned that Jim paced Jim Pellon the year ABC was filming and that Shiela won AC100 in '86. I suddenly felt way out of my league. However, they both put me at ease and turned out to also be my second crew, meeting me at Duncan Canyon and Dusty Corners. My training partner, Rena Schumann, suggested a T-shirt and thus the infamous "Team Jensen" was born (if you missed the shirt, see "http://reality.sgi.com/stanj/TeamJensen.ps"). It was a boost to run into an aid station like Michigan Bluff and see all five T-shirts come running! I couldn't have made it without my crew and pacers. TRAINING Not enough and not the right type, but anything's possible. My goal was to try to run an average of 50 MPW. From 12/4 through 6/15 I ran 1046 miles in 96 days (races and training), but there weren't too many weeks where my total was over 50 miles (best was 206 in 4 weeks). I'd have to say that the best training (obviously) was the Memorial Day camp, with back-to-back runs on the course. That plus a flashlight run from Green Gate to Hwy 49 gave me the false confidence that I was ready. PRE-RACE I arrived in Squaw Valley around noon on Thursday and recommend that for those who have the time. I was able to settle in, get acclimated and do some socializing before the crowds arrived and the briefings began. I lost track of the list members I saw, but it was a bunch. The souvenir shop is a great place to buy WS stuff, but bring cash, 'cause they don't take Visa. The Friday weigh-in and medical check went smoothly and then they give you a great Sunmart duffel bag and a ton of goodies! Norm's trail briefing in the afternoon was long-winded (surprise!), but if you've had lunch and find a shady spot, it's a treat to be there when they recognize Friends of the Trail, like Tom Winter for his efforts on No Hands Bridge. Norm also called up the top female and male entrants and gave a brief bio of each. THE BIG DAY(S) I woke at 3:30 with adrenalin coursing through my veins. At last, the waiting was over! I had to wake up the other five people in the condo, but we staggered over to the starting area, got some coffee and a pastry, hit the restroom, and then milled about until 5. The gun goes off and we start up the ski slope that seemed so intimidating to look at the day before. Almost 4 miles and 2,000' later, we reach the Escarpment aid station and my watch (59:50) tells me that my efforts to go out slowly didn't work (I'm on a 24 hour pace, which is 10 minutes too fast for me). The views are incredible as the sun rises over Lake Tahoe and a line of runners stretches up and down the slopes. Patches of snow everywhere make me realize what a bitch it must have been last year. A few minutes later we crest the summit and then start running downhill. All I remember of the trail from that point to Robinson Flats is that it's through the Granite Chief Wilderness Area and it's drop-dead pretty. Old Slow Charlie Gabri was at Lyon Ridge, list-RD John Vonhof was at Red Star, the gang (Jim, Shiela, Skip, Diane, Lauren & Janis) were at Duncan and I had a blast for the first 30 miles. When you climb up from Duncan Creek and arrive at Robinson, it's like a circus. There are dozens of pink-shirted volunteers who weigh you and take care of you while yellow tapes keep the crews and spectators away (momentarily). You grab some food and drink, get checked out and then settle into the chair as your crew swarms around, changing your shirt, getting ice from another crew, telling you you look great and (of course) taking pictures. I think I came into RF around 12:15, which was pretty much on my plan of 27 hours and I still felt pretty good. Off I went, with a brief stop for lemonade from Herman Cohen and Kellie Sheehan. The next section was familiar to me, since it was the section we ran on Day 1 of camp. Down Cavanaugh Ridge, being careful not to twist an ankle. In and out of Deep Canyon aid station and then play tag with two of the horse ladies who were riding from Robinson Flat to Foresthill. Finally, we climbed another long hot section of the road and there's Dusty Corners with the gang (see above) again! By now, I'm starting to feel the heat, but I keep refilling both the water and Gatorade bottles, drinking Coke (for a change of taste), eating melons, cookies, etc. and using a Ziploc bag to take extra food with me as I head out. The next stop was Last Chance, but I forgot where the turn was and I was doing the "Western States Wiggle" as I rounded the corner and had to tuck things back in place hastily :-) I hope those pictures don't turn up on the net! Another great aid station and this time in the shade. From here on it got a little easier for me, 'cause three of us had run from Michigan Bluff to Last Chance and back, so I was now on a section I'd run more than once. Gentle descent to the river, then the infamous climb to Devil's Thumb. Just before the top I got a case of the chills and goose bumps, so I forced down the rest of both bottles and tried to take it easy. At the aid station, I was feeling ragged and a volunteer offered to massage my calves after she finished two other runners. Well, I was sitting there drinking potato soup and thinking how good that would feel, when I realized that by the time she got to me in 5 minutes and massaged my legs, it would be very hard to go on. Reluctantly, I loaded up and headed for Deadwood. Down another long section of trail to the river and an idyllic setting for the El Dorado aid station. Refills, a wet handkerchief, and I'm on my way up "the last hill". You know you're close when you start seeing people coming "down" the trail and then it suddenly levels out and you can muster enough energy to run into Michigan Bluff. My team did a shoe, sock and shirt change and then told me to get movin'. As I headed out the road to Volcano Canyon, I had to detour twice to avoid some "food" that didn't make it far from the aid station. This was to become a familiar sight. At the turn off from the road onto the trail (the turn I missed during the training camp), they had a vehicle and an aid station so NOBODY would miss it. Another steep downhill to the creek, closely followed by those same two horse ladies who shouted that they wouldn't run over me (but I still kept moving). We found a log and managed to stay dry while crossing. A few more small climbs and suddenly I'm at the Bath Road aid station, festooned with Xmas lights (yes, it was dusk). Some quick snacks and head on up the pavement, dodging the puke piles. At the top there's Eric Robinson and then Bob Reedy and I run along the road and enter Foresthill in the company of some volunteers dressed as saloon hall girls. A relatively brief stop with the crew and then Pacer One (Jim) and I head out for California Street. This is like cruise control for me, 'cause it's the fourth time I've run this at night. Jim takes the lead, so all I need to do is watch my feet and try not to get too far behind. We pass a few runners and get passed by more as I tell Jim than I'm hurtin' and just want to keep moving. A stop for soup at Cal#1 and pleasantries with the Hartleys, then off we go. It's a pleasant night, but almost too warm and the moon is so bright that I catch myself looking back 'cause I think someone with a Petzel is trying to pass. I start getting light-headed and Jim offers some suggestions. I get cranky. Into Cal#2 and the runners in the chairs are starting to look like zombies. Off again as the clock strikes midnight somewhere along that stretch. Climbing into Cal#3 I notice a sign at the top of the hill. I must be hallucinating 'cause it has my name and number. I ask at the aid station and they tell me that Charles Jensen posted it for me before he crawled into his truck for a nap. Ah, the personal touch of each aid station. My spirits are lifted. Down we go toward the river and successfully take the right turn up the trail. Finally we're down along the river and I lead a small group into Cal#4, where I'm surprised to be sharing it with Barbara Elia, Terry Cray and John Rhodes (I think they're all better runners than moi). Jim and I split first and we pass the old goat (Rob Volkenand) on his way to his tenth finish (not bad for 65!). We see the searchlights on the river and soon we're on the scales again (my Friday weight was 157 and it stayed within a pound all race long). Jim hands the pacer tag to Pacer Two (Shiela) and with a wave to Diane Eastman, we're into the river. This is always the strangest part of WS for me. Here it is, 2:30AM and we're wading across the American River, waist deep (until you slip) in cool, swiftly moving water. There must have been at least three volunteers on the downstream side of the rope, talking to me, telling me which holes to watch for, and my light shines down through the water to light the rubber booted feet of the volunteers. As I reach the far side, a lady on the bank says "Excuse me, but would you mind going back into the river? I didn't get your picture.". Well, I did, so it better be good. Shiela and I get my drop bag and I change into a warm, dry shirt and new socks and shoes. We start up the long hill and she sets a brisk pace, but I need it to warm up my refreshingly chilled legs. A quick stop at Green Gate, and then we run (well, Shiela does) along the rolling trail. I'm having trouble keeping up. My legs are tired, my feet hurt, I'm a little dizzy, so I worry about going off the trail, but she stays with me (I think it's because I have more meat on my bones and am much slower, kitty-wise). Auburn Lakes Trail finally appears and they have a fire burning. The good news is that all the close chairs are taken, so I don't get comfortable. Onward we go, in and out of all those long damn canyons, until finally we start hearing the tunes. As we get close, Shiela points out hash marks and starts yelling "on on". At this point, I'll put up with anything from her. The Miller sign appears and we arrive at the party, aka Brown's Ravine. While Shiela exchanges secret handshakes with her fellow Hash House Harriers, I replenish my supplies and gaze longingly at a bottle of bourbon by the M&Ms. Maybe later. Soon after we leave, it's light enough that we turn out our flashlights as we descend to the river road. By now, I know that we have less than ten miles and about four and a half hours, so Shiela is unable to do a thing with me. I relax, enjoy the scenery and start to realize that I'm going to finish! We climb up past the quarry and there's the aid station and crew. John Vonhof has transported magically from Red Star to Hwy 49 and tells me that I appear to be leaning to the right. I have no idea what he means, but I tell him that I have a heavy flashlight in the right side of my pack and he lets me go. Team Jensen assembles in full strength (all six of us) and Shiela asks Rena if she'd like to pace me to the finish. This must be a dream! I had asked Rena to be my pacer, but she had committed to pacing someone else, so I had asked Diane for help. It turns out that Rena's runner dropped, and another runner she picked up at Foresthill also dropped, so she's available. We both thank Shiela and take off for Pointed Rocks. A quick nibble on Cheetos (ultra breakfast) and down the rutted path to No Hands Bridge. It's a real thrill to be able to cross the bridge, after months of wondering if it would be open (thanks, Tom!). It's warming up on the other side as we climb to Robie Point, but we see "pedestrians" and then we're on the Streets of Auburn. We pass John Davis (who's going the wrong way), walk the hills and then we cross that familiar white bridge. I'm actually running as we enter the stadium and that resonant voice says my name, my age, my home town and we turn the corner and there's Norm, standing in the track with "my ribbon" and I've done it! 28 hours, 46 minutes and 4 seconds later it finally ends. Wow! AFTERMATH A final medical check, several sodas, another dry shirt, a few more photos, massage, podiatrist inspection (I passed) and then we just sit and watch as about 60 others come in. The hardest moment comes as we're leaving the stadium at 11:02 and Jim Young and his gang come charging into the stadium. We know it won't be official, but he did finish. I drive Rena to her car in Foresthill, go back to the hotel, take a shower and then it's back to the High School for the banquet and awards. The food was great and it was a chance to swap stories with the others. At the ceremony, Tim got his "1500 miles in 15 days" buckle (wow), Ann thanked Carl for all his support and Tony Rossman called all the runners up to receive their buckles. I was sorry to leave after getting my buckle, but I was fading fast. MISCELLANEOUS It was great to see familiar faces, like Eric Robinson's, over and over again. It was hard to see friends dropping out with stomach problems, especially when I consider them to be better runners than I am. Luck played a big part in my finish, as did the support of my friends. At the banquet, Kaptain Kirk Boisseree said something to the effect that the more ultras you do, the more pain and suffering you put up with, because you know you can get through it. I know that when I felt light-headed or my blisters were popping or my quads were longing for an uphill so I could walk, I told myself that it wouldn't stop me from finishing and would all be gone in a few days. I did finish and I started running three days later. ADVICE Take the following with a couple grains of salt and a swig of Gatorade, 'cause I've only finished two 100s (and DNFed one). It does get warm in the Canyons and there are many long exposed sections in the afternoon, so you need to somehow prepare for running a long time in the heat while staying hydrated (and salted). I don't think there are that many steep hills, but it is easy to run the first half too fast and trash your quads. I also heard many people say that there are lots of rocks on the trails, so watching your footing can be a problem. If you haven't run with a flashlight, be sure to make that part of your training. Decide before the race how badly you want to finish and let your crew and pacers know your plan. PHOTOS List members Brick Robbins, Brett Martin, Janis O'Grady, Skip Eastman and others took my photo, plus I had a crew member who took seven (!) rolls during the race, so I've started a web page at: http://reality.sgi.com/stanj/WSphotos/ and if you have other photos, send me e-mail. CONCLUSION I had a great time at Western States and I heartily recommend it for any ultra folks. You can try to run it, you can pace, you can crew, you can volunteer, or you can just be a spectator (or some combination). The course is beautiful and challenging, but in the end the people make the difference. I'll be back next June. Stan