Date: Thu, 2 Jul 1998 12:32:53 -0800 From: Skip Eastman Subject: WS '98 (long!) Well, Western States '98 is history, and Diane finished under 30 hours. It wasn't pretty, but she was awarded the buckle on Sunday afternoon, near the end of the 250+ finishers. I'm very, very proud of her, and very glad that our crew was able to help her achieve her goal. This year's crew consisted of yours truly; chief of logistics, Jim Pepin (otherwise known as Diane's boss and running partner); fashion advisor, Liz Kennedy (expert hiker and queen of clothing layering ("cotton is rotten")); chief of morale, Jennifer Latham (surrogate daughter, and Olympic marathon qualifier at Grandma's the week previous). In addition to their other duties, Jim, Jenn and Liz paced from Forresthill, the River and Hiway 49, respectively. As all of you know by now, crew access was extremely limited this year -- Michigan Bluff at 55+ miles was the first time any of us could see our runners. And the plan to bring out comments by the runners from Duncan Canyon wasn't all that encouraging in our case. When Diane arrived at Duncan, some 7.5 hours and 24 miles into the race, she was asked if she would like to send a brief message to the crew at Forresthill. She was tired, and having twisted her knee around mile 11, was in some pain. Her message said,"tweaked knee on snow, hanging in there." Without a smiley, or any other information, this could be interpreted as "trying to make the next aid station," or "I think I'll be ok." Husbands tend to make the more pessimistic appraisal... And so, during the many hours we hung around in Forresthill, I worried. Hey, I had to do something...:^) Jennifer, always the optimist, was convinced that Diane would be fine. And it turned out that the truth was closer to her opinion than to mine. The idea was for crews to stay in Forresthill until word filtered down that their runner had left some intermediate aid station, then head for Michigan Bluff. Well, the communication system failed, and, after hearing nothing from down the line, we headed off to Michigan Bluff around 5pm, 12 hours into the race. The small town seemed a bit more subdued this year, perhaps because of the uncertain condition of our runners. On the average year, we see them at Robinson Flat, some 32 miles in. After that, it is a relatively simple matter of extrapolation to predict their entry into Michigan Bluff. This year, however, unless one cajoled the radio operator (thanks, Jim) one simply had to stand at the trail head and wait. And wait. So what usually is a party became a guessing game. "Should we go back to the car to get the flashlights and night clothes?" "Who wants to pace if he/she comes in after 8?" Well, Diane showed up a bit after 8, and we finally got to do our crew thing -- changed some clothes, got her ready for the dark, and Liz, who would otherwise have gotten only 6+ miles of pacing at the end, got to do the first leg into Forresthill. And we slogged off up the hill with the bags, the busses having stopped at 6. Jenn and Jim ran out to Bath Road to meet Diane, and things seemed to be going well, until she tripped on a transition from dirt to tar only 50 feet or so from the Forresthill aid station, and barked both knees. That necessitated a trip to the bathroom for a quick washup. Compared to the other pains she was feeling, the scrapes were minor, but it was annoying. (The aid station folk claimed they didn't have anything to mark the transition with, even though I'd seen half a dozen runners trip there, and finally we remembered we had some baby powder in the trunk and did our best to mark it.) Jim took over pacing duties as we repeated our new mantra, "5-5-2" -- five hours to the river, five to 49, two to the finish, for an under-30 hour buckle. The rest of us headed off to Drivers Flat, where we enjoyed a brief cat-nap before heading off down to the river crossing. The boat crossing was a complete success. They had strung a cable from side to side, with the near end farther up-river than the far end. An inflatable, which could hold about 6-7 was tethered to the cable. What that meant was that once the runners and pacers were in the boat, the rower had only to head it out into the current and it launched across in only a couple of minutes. Rowing back with no load looked easy, and the round trips, even with donning and doffing the life vests took only about five minutes. And few even got their feet wet, meaning that many could skip the aid station shoe change, more than making up for any time waiting for the boat. Diane and Jim arrived at the river just about on schedule, and Jennifer took over. The boat rule was that if there were runners waiting, the pacers got to take the next ride, so Jenn got to start running a few minutes after Diane had already headed up toward Green Gate. Soon the dawn light appeared, and Jenn was able to get Diane running a few steps at a time, and gradually she felt better. They arrived at Highway 49 at about 8:40, with more than 2:15 to complete the course. Liz took over pacing duties again, and we all felt Diane had a good chance to finish under 30 hours. We headed to the high school, then hiked out to Robie so we could accompany Diane the last 1.3 miles to the finish line. It was starting to get pretty warm, and folks hiking up the hill were mostly toasted. Though the temperature only reached into the 80s, even that was difficult for folks unused to heat, and after having spent most of 30 hours on the trail. Finally, and with clearly enough time remaining, Diane and Liz appeared to our cheers. And we all started up the hill together. For those of you who have not seen that bit of pavement from Robie, suffice it to say that it is difficult to understand how they got it to harden before it ran to the bottom -- it is that steep. But with swinging arms and lots of encouragement, Diane (and we) got to the top, and she started running a bit, passing a runner and her pacer who, she said, she'd been back and forth with for miles. She was unable to continue running after a bit, however, and the runner passed us back. As we approached the small hill just before the final down, however, Diane said she was going to run again. Jenn whispered "Go for it, Diane," and we all sprinted for the hill, then kept it up and careened down the final hill toward the stadium. As Diane entered the track, we all peeled off to meet her at the finish banner, which she ran under at about 29:42. Norm, of course, was there to congratulate her and place the medal around her neck. And Helen came over as well. Then it was off for weighing and blood pressure, both of which were fine, and a bit of rest in the shade. Showers, banquet and award ceremony followed in a bit of a blur, since we had all been up for too many hours. It was fun seeing Tim and Ann get their awards, along with the others who had overcome the difficulty of the course to finish so well. This was Diane's most difficult 100, combining the snow and her early injury, but perhaps the most rewarding. She persevered when many, many others were felled by the course, or their injuries, or their minds. She said we made a difference, and I'd like to think we did. But ultimately it was her legs, and her spirit which got her to the finish line. I could not be more proud if she had won the race, because in many ways, she did. Thanks, especially, to Jim and Jenn and Liz. Waiting those long hours, cajoling Diane into a bit of a run, trying to remember one more dumb blonde joke -- you guys did great. It was fun being a team. To Diane, as Baz would say, "Good on you, mate." This husband is proud to have been part of your special day. I love you, hon. And tomorrow starts the 34th year of our marriage with lots of good stuff in the future. Happy Anniversary! And to all of you who encouraged us along the way, a big THANK YOU! Thanks for reading, Skip (and Diane), Ultr Cpl in SoCal