2019 Western States 100 Race Report

Western States.

A race featured in videos and documentaries, known for its history and fast times, probably the premier 100 mile race in the United States. A race run by many of the best ultrarunners, the start list always littered with the big names. It's the kind of race you follow along with, year after year, just because it's just so cool.

And so, when you put your hat into the ring and your name gets picked with only 2 tickets, you are so excited you start to shake. But you are also so nervous, you shake some more.

This is the big-time, people. Oh, not in the sense that I had any thoughts of grandeur and finishing well, but it is WESTERN STATES.

I spent the first six months of the year running and getting ready. Thinking and pondering. Being scared out of my mind and equally excited for what I knew would no doubt be my once in a lifetime chance to run this historic, iconic race with its high country, canyons, heat, and long downhills. I did the best I could with what I had in training, but I knew that going in, my main goal was simply to finish. To enjoy the experience. To smile. To run happy. To hope like heck that it didn't all go wrong out there and to get to that finish line in one piece, or at least one semi-piece 😂

I'll admit, I felt extra pressure since everyone knew I was running. And because the whole family was coming to support me on this adventure. And because it was Western States. Who knew if/when I'd have the chance again. Not that anyone really cared if I finished or not. I know a race isn't need for validation, but damn, I wanted to finish. The thought of running under that finishing arch on the track in Auburn both haunted and motivated me.

And then, just like that, our vacation, and the race, was here.

Going to race registration and the pre-race meeting was like a dream. Ultrarunning stars like Jeff Browning and Scott Jurek milling about with everyone else. YiOu Wang and Mario Fraioli standing on the steps at registration, waiting, a few places back, just like the rest of us.

The Start to Robinson Flat (miles 0-30.3): 

The morning of the race dawned clear, bright and chilly. 39 degrees. I settled on my gray TMR short sleeve shirt paired with black sleeves and light gloves, with my old turquoise Golite windshell on top as an extra layer.

Staying right in the village was a great decision. Ryan and I walked over to get my number in the darkness right at 4:00 am and then went back to the room for final preparations and to get the gang ready to walk over to the start.

The clock at the starting arch ticked down the minutes. The atmosphere was electric. I gave Ryan one last kiss and stood with the rest of the runners in the semi-darkness, listening to the final speech before we counted down 3-2-1 and GO.

The place went crazy with cheers, with cowbells, cameras flashing. I was on the far right edge of the crowd and saw Sam cheering as I went by.

The course goes up for miles, climbing the service road up the ski area, steep almost right from the start. We (ie. us normal folk in the mid to back of the pack) settled in to a walk. Spectators lined the road, even higher up, cheering us on, as we plodded, upward, ever upward. Saw Amy Rusiecki a mile or so up the road - so fun to see a familiar face! The sky lightened behind us and I turned a few times to look out over the valley, fog enveloping the lake beyond. There were only one or two spots where running was even an option but it felt good to get in a few longer strides when they occurred. Still, though, it's essentially a long upward hike for the first four miles. I could only go so fast, as I wanted to ensure I didn't overdo it, breathe too heavy, waste too much energy. Water from snowmelt higher up roared in the streams, and we soon hit snow, packed icy groomed ski trails up in the cirque. Traction was decent and we just kept going. An amoeba blob of runners, climbing ever-higher.

After several miles, we hit a flatter stretch where I turned to look out and see the sunrise glimmering on the horizon. We hit the start of the climb to the Escarpment, loose gravel. Focus was needed. Then a snowy stretch of similar steepness, climbing up to rap music and cheering and crowds like mad at the top. There wasn't much time to think or look or feel, just keep going, don't slip, don't get run over.

Off the back of the mountain, downhill on thin ribbon of singletrack lined with wildflowers, yellow. red and purple with Eric Schranz blowing his big horn at the edge of the meadow. So beautiful. I'm in a conga line of runners here and would be for a while, all of us winding down into the woods to find big icy patches of snow amidst the evergreens, slipping, sliding.

Backside of Squaw. So pretty! It truly did look like this during the race.

It feels a bit hurried down in the woods. There are a lot of runners in front of and behind me. I let some pass. The trail isn't a nice flattened trail on the snow like we have at home. It's compacted drifts and mounds, cornices with a few steep steps up and hope you don't slide and fall steep downs. Lots of slipping and one fall for me along the way, but just onto my butt sliding downward. In between the big snow swatches are sections of mud and bare ground, plus a lot of water and the trail a river in a few places too. Not much chance to look around as we wind our way up and down and along the edge of the hillside. I chat for a bit with the final waitlister to get in (on Friday!) and a Virginian along the way, but mostly I just move forward, focusing on staying upright.

The first aid station is 10.7 miles into the course. The trail winds this way and that, down into a draw and then up, finally, to the remote Lyons Ridge aid station. I stop for a refill of my bladder and to grab a few Oreos. I thank the volunteers for schlepping all this stuff up the mountainside. This race has a crazy amount of volunteers, something like 1,500, to help the 369 runners complete this course. Truly amazing. According to ultralive.net, I cross the timing mat here at 7:46 am.

And then off I go, up onto another stretch of snow along the ridgeline. The stretch between this first stop and Red Star is a glorious section of high singletrack with views out across a wide valley onto snow-covered mountains and so many wildflowers. There is more snow. I focus on moving efficiently but easily, and honestly, I can only go so fast as my pace is most definitely capped by the altitude and the terrain and the snow but I'm feeling fine. Just slow and steady. Wish I had had a camera for some of the views along the way here. It truly is spectacular.

9:15 am. Red Star is another 5 miles in. Supplies must surely have been trekked in up here as well, but it seems a bit of a bigger aid station, with what I come to find is the typical routine for a Western States aid station. A volunteer greets you, asks you what you need, takes your pack for a refill and sends you down the food line for whatever you want and meets up with you at the end to hand you back your filled pack. I take my first cup of coke here. I neglect to tell said friendly volunteer not to fill my bladder to the top, as I typically like it filled only to 50 oz or so due to weight and comfort, and so I feel weighed down as I make my way out of the aid station area, the pack heavy on my back. I stop a bit later in the hopes of emptying it a bit, but can't quite release it. Knowing I would be at altitude for the first 30 miles or so, I am extra conscious about drinking water. I have been carrying a soft bottle with a straw in one side of my vest as well so I dump that out this time, knowing that with a full bladder, I'll be fine until Duncan Canyon.

The sun comes out and it gets warmer. My throat is dry from the altitude. Views are still spectacular as are the wildflowers. Still some patches of snow. Still a line of runners, but perhaps a bit more settled in now. I can only go as fast as I can go. I don't rush and I don't dawdle, but I feel like I can't only push so much. Still, overall, feeling fine, happy, steady, just running. The next aid station, Duncan Canyon, at mile 24.4, is the first chance to see crew. I arrive at 11:01 am. It seems a bit of a madhouse, an aid station perched at the edge of a sidehill. I see Ryan but the rules dictate that the runner go through the aid station first, before continuing on to their crew. I get more water in my pack and grab a few oreos. Ryan passes me my ice bandana, but I don't feel the need for ice yet. Still, I agree to get it wet and wrap it around my neck.

Duncan Canyon

Ryan leads me over to where he and Kris have set up on a sidehill in the shade of a pine tree. I shed my sleeves and leave my jacket, which I took off shortly after going over the Escarpment. I eat a few grapes, maybe some chips? and pretty quickly head out, down the dusty hill. The trail winds down into a valley, the bottom of which is a big, deep stream. No choice but to get wet. The water is cold and up above my knees. My feet feel numb when I come out the other side. The trails meanders on, through some open rocky areas, wildflowers littering the ground. I have to make the first of what turns out to be three pitstops here. People I'd been ahead of pass me. We hit an uphill. I pass several of them back. This game of leapfrog will go on all day with various groups of people. On the other side of the river is a long climb which eventually turns into flat-ish mile or so that leads into Robinson Flat, at mile 30.3, where I'll see Sam, Mom, Dad, Irene and Dana for the first time.

Coming into Robinson Flat

Getting sunscreened up by my expert crew!

I arrive at 12:50 pm. I had hoped to arrive by noon in my mind, but no matter. I know Ryan thought I might come through the end of the high country feeling a bit fried, but honestly I feel pretty good. I have not been looking much at my watch, but I feel I am just going a bit slowly. Nothing I can do about it really. Just keep going.

Robinson Flat is a big aid station. Mom in her bright orange fleece is nice and noticeable. I get my pack filled by the nice volunteers, take a drink of coke, get some ice in my hat, and continue on down the road to where they have set up my stuff. I've given them a pretty detailed list of things to check in on and do here, so we go down the list. I get more sunscreen, pick up more gels, eat a few grapes, grab a baggie of fritos to go, and decline all else.

Robinson Flat to Foresthill (miles 30.3-62.0):

I know it's a lot of downhill from Robinson Flat to Dusty Corners at mile 38, and the first few miles are gravel road. I start off at a walk, eating my fritos and then eventually start to run, enjoying the rather gentle terrain and grade. I pass some people. Then I have to pull off for pitstop #2. Those people pass me back. The game of leapfrog continues when after Miller's Defeat at mile 34.4 (1:51 pm), I have to pull off again for another pitstop. Ugh. I try to think through why this might be happening. It's not unusual for me to have to poop during an ultra, but three times in 12ish miles is a bit much. My stomach actually feels fine, but I don't want to keep pooping all race. It's a big time suck and not much fun. I wonder if it's the Muir gels I've been consuming - blueberry and raspberry - perhaps it's too much for my stomach to process? I decide I'll try to stick more to the Vfuels going forward. If that helps, great. If not, well, then the gels aren't the issue.

There is some flat fireroad here and more downhill. Nothing major, mostly fairly gentle. It's a nice change. It's getting hot but I don't feel overheated. I keep drinking and eating. I arrive at Dusty Corners, mile 38.0, at 2:37 pm. Even with the pitstop, that stretch was a little faster, a little easier.

I go through the same aid station routine, getting ice in my ice bandana this time and Ryan meets me at the other end. I decide against the arm sleeves filled with ice. I just don't feel that hot. I mean, I know it's probably in the 80s but the dryness truly does make a difference. I'm hardly sweating. It's such an odd change from all the hot Eastern ultras I've run where you're soaked from start to finish. I know I'm drinking enough because I am peeing a lot, and it is not "fake" pee, nor is it a dark color. I've taken a few s-caps but don't feel like I need to be popping them every hour on the hour like I do when I run on the east coast.

Happy coming into Dusty Corners. Note the dusty legs and socks already 😂

I'm eating! I swear! Look, bacon and a bag of fritos to go!

Before I head down to the road with Ryan, I ask out loud if I'm headed into the canyons now. Gordy Ainsleigh, the first one to run the Western States course, is at the end of the aid station row, which is so incredibly awesome, cheering on the runners and offering encouragement, and he says, no not yet. I took a decent stop here, about 8 minutes according to Ryan's notes on when I left, to get a bit more glide, to eat some grapes and a few slices of bacon, take a few sips of coke, get sprayed with more sunscreen, and refill my gels with a note to them about the pooping, but I decided against any change of socks or shoes or shirt, with everything feeling pretty good. I walked down the short stretch of road and a volunteer signaled me off onto the singletrack into the woods, saying it was a good runnable stretch and to be sure to stop at Pucker Point to take in the view. The trail was nice and shaded, running along the edge of a hillside with a fairly gentle grade. I passed a few people through this section, and indeed the view from Pucker Point was a nice one, out into a deep valley with a big waterfall below.

There's a bit of a climb then a descent along a fire road into the next aid station, Last Chance at mile 43.3. Krisser's friends Scott and Amy are manning this aid station and they say a big hello and we chat for a bit. It's nice to see friendly faces, even if I don't really know them 😉 But I know they are looking out for me. I do the typical aid station refill, get more ice in my ice bandana, take a swig of coke and a few chips and take off, with word that the canyons are coming with Devil's Thumb on tap next. It's 3:47 pm when I arrive, and it is hot but not seriously so. I know I am lucking out with this weather. The descent to the bottom of the canyon is steep with a lot of switchbacks, lots of loose rock and gravel and lots of poison oak lining the narrow trail. It is my nightmare trail. Seriously. Give me an uphill over this crap any day. I pick and tiptoe my way down, passed by probably half a dozen people. Whatever. Just get me to the end of this sh*t! There is a big bridge over the river here, and then a stream to cross before we begin to climb. I continue across and start to count the switchbacks up. I know there are 36. I get to about 5 and lose count. The climb is 1,800 feet and 2 miles long. It feels rather endless, honestly, and it is a bit suffocating along the edge of the hillside with no breeze and the sun overhead, but most of the trail is in the trees at least. There is nothing to do here but just keep moving and stop once you reach the aid station. I soldier up, passing a few. I am not fast, but I am steady. Eventually we reach a turn with a few outlooks welcoming us to Devil's Thumb. But there's still a bit of a climb inland before we hit the aid station. One of the volunteers offers me broth. Uh uh. No way. Broth is a no-no after Laurel. Plus, it's too warm for soup. It's 5:19 pm. I settle on another cup of coke, and more chips. I use the port-a-potty on the far side of the aid station. Pee but no poop. At least I seem to have that settled!

I know there is another big descent here. Apparently, it's about 5 miles long, not so terrible at first, but once we get closer to the river at the bottom of the canyon and the climb on the other side, the trail gets steep and narrow and rocky and poison oak-y and well, d@mnation again! I really hate this kind of stuff. I tiptoe my way down. I pass the 50 mile mark on the way down. It takes me 12:52. Slow, yes, but that is just what it is. I take note and continue on. There's an aid station, El Dorado Creek, at the bottom of the canyon, at mile 52.9. It's 6:43 pm. One woman is melting down here, saying she can't breathe. I quickly swig a cup of coke and head out. I don't need a refill of water and so on I go. Up I go. I fall in with a guy named Arun here. We chat a bit and he is setting a good pace on the uphill. I appreciate the pull and at the top, he says thanks for the push. I think I was behind him on the long uphill up to Robinson Flat too. Funny how that happens. (He goes on to beat my by 1:15 but at the time, he was a good one to stick with.)

It is a long uphill here to Michigan Bluff, mile 55, but I feel I am moving well, even though in the back of my mind I'm realizing it is going to be close to 8:00 pm when I reach the aid station, and I think of Ryan saying to Krisser, well, if she reaches Michigan Bluff after 8:00 pm, I'll pace her (pacer is an option after 8:00 there) but if that's the case, we've got other problems. I don't feel I have other problems, honestly, I just know this has been a tougher course than I might have envisioned. I'm just trucking along as best I can but I am a bit worried about the pace and ask Ryan to tell me seriously what time I'm on when I pull in at 7:44 pm. I rather specifically didn't choose to fixate on pace goals going into this race but I had had in my mind that I would be at Michigan much earlier. Ryan tells me I was riding closer to 30 hour pace at Duncan, then gained a bit to 29ish at Dusty Corner and am now a bit ahead of that. So, no need to worry about cutoff but obviously I'm not exactly speeding along 😂 Oh well, it is what it is. I honestly don't care when I finish, I just want to get to that track eventually and I feel relieved once I know I'm OK with time.

Getting a pep talk from Ryan at Michigan Bluff that I am making up time and not near cutoffs at all.

I go through the aid station, trying to find something appetizing. I grab a piece of quesadilla and head down the road to our set-up, where I grab some bacon and chips and coke, and then Ryan walks me down the road a bit. I stop to use the port-a-potty here and then continue on down the road. It's a nice stretch here of smooth and wide gravel road, lined with beautiful magenta and pink sweet peas. Amazingly, this is the first time I really feel alone all race. No one is around except one guy who easily moves past me as we turn the corner and the road goes up. There, I realize, I need to poop again. Of course. You know, why not 1 mile back at the port-a-potty?! I duck off into the woods, but even with that, there is no other runners around. It's sort of eerie. I continue on the dirt road for a ways until it turns off onto singletrack that winds down into the last of the canyons, Volcano Canyon.

At some point along the track down into the canyon, a few runners pass me and it starts to get dark enough that I stop to pull out my headlamp, which Ryan tucked in my pack back at Michigan Bluff. As I'm down in the canyon, I don't really see a sunset, just a simple darkening of the sky. I pass a runner and his pacer as we descend to a creek crossing, and then it is an uphill climb (see the theme here?!). I catch up with Arun and his pacer again. The trail turns to pavement, which continues up, but I know we must be getting closer to Foresthill. There are lots of people out walking around, looking for their runners, and then, just like that, near the junction with the main road, there is James! It is great to see him and we chat as he guides me along the trail at the edge of the road. There are cars set up everywhere along the side of the street but it takes a while to actually reach the aid station.

I pull into the official aid station at exactly 9:30 pm. I get some water for my bladder, take a cup of coke and a few chips and maybe a piece of quesedilla and we walk down the street a short ways to where we are set up. It's dark and has been a long day already. Sam looks tired. I ask her what she had for dinner and she says sweet potato fries 😂 Aren't I a good mom? Dragging her out and around the countryside and she's so tired she doesn't even eat a full dinner?! Ha. It's not cold but it's no longer hot, for sure, so I take off the ice bandana and change into a dry shirt. We debate whether I should change my socks but decide against it. I'm not that wet and I'm not sure it would matter much. I gather up some more gels and drink down most of a Starbucks Espresso Shot to ward off the sleep monster 😆 It's that time of night and I don't want tohave that feeling of needing to curl up by the side of the trail.

James getting ready to pace

Coming into Foresthill

At our set up, getting ready with my awesome crew

Sam looks so thrilled 😜

Foresthill to Rucky Chucky (miles 62.0-78.0):

James and I take fairly quickly off into the darkness, down the paved road, him telling stories and letting me lead the way. It is awesome to have his company and he is a great pacer, keeping me entertained the whole time. We head down Cal Street and then take a turn off and down onto a wide sandy dirt road. There are three aid stations between Foresthill and the river. The first comes up fairly quickly at 65.7 miles, and it's essentially all downhill there. My chip doesn't register a time here. I think it is at the second one, at mile 70.7, that we stop and I ask the lady if she has sanitizer. She says yes, do you need some, and I say yes, I want to fill the little bottle that I have in my pack! I think she is taken aback. I tell her I like to keep my hands clean 😂 I guess she doesn't get many of those requests. Yes, I'm a weird one, what can I say! I also go up a short side trail to pee here before we continue on. It is 11:59 pm when we arrive.

I'm not doing a great job with my gels on this stretch. I do get a little something to eat at each aid station and some coke but James is telling stories and calculating mileage and talking about what's to come, and I get distracted. Oh, and I've been on my feet for 16 hours too, so there is that! 😂😂 This stretch is all jumbled in my head. I know there is some rolling terrain and some thin narrow singletrack up on the edge of the hillside. We can hear the river below but I know we are nowhere near the crossing. We pass some pairs of runners and pacers and some pass us. James doesn't push me, but keeps me entertained and tells me what's ahead. He has the course map programmed into his watch as well as a piece of paper with detailed notes. I have no idea. I'm just trying to move forward. I have to pee several times with James, and there is just no place to pull over. I just try to find the widest spot and make sure there are no lights behind us and go at the edge of the trail. James is not phased. You do what you have to do!

At some point after the third aid station in this section, we hit a fire road which climbed and then leveled off and then which finally dropped us down to the river. I could see the lights in the distance and knew we were getting close. It took us 2 hours to go the 8 miles between Cal 1 and the near side aid station at the Rucky Chucky. Late night slow miles. We arrive at 2:05 am, go through the aid station and I grab a few chips before we descend the steps to the edge of the river. Volunteers stop us to put life preservers on us and then we get into the boat for the crossing. My legs protest this movement. Ouch! The river is clear and deep, and we are across with maybe only two pulls on the oars of the guy manning the boat. I am frankly happy to not have to get wet. Getting out of the boat is just as hard as getting in and then it is off with the life preserver and up a really loose sandy steep bank where Kris and Ryan are waiting.

Carefully getting out of the boat

Climbing up the steep hill from the river bank

The four of us walk up the steep road together, chatting away, catching up. I stop to pee halfway up, again right at the side of the road. Decorum be d@mned. It is a long 2 mile walk up to Green Gate where Kris and Ryan have set up our stuff. They try to urge me to eat some real food. I try a dark chocolate covered pretzel. Nope, that gets thrown up with a bit of gagging, but it's simply a reaction and not a true puke-fest, thank goodness. I wipe my mouth with a wipe, we restock my gels, Ryan takes a bag of fritos to go for me, we change out my straw bottle for a bottle of coke in my pack pocket and we are off. Kris and James will continue the rest of crewing together.

Rucky Chucky to the Finish (miles 78.0-100.2):

As we ran along, Ryan filled me in on his day and it is great to catch up and be with him. I asked him about Kyle and he told me that Kyle had timed out at Red Star due to the snow. I was so sorry to hear this, but I told Ryan I thought often of Kyle as I was running off the backside of Squaw to Lyons Ridge and Red Star, as all I could think was how difficult it would be for him and his guides to maneuver. Kyle is an incredible person and athlete and I am so proud of him for even getting out there, for all he is doing as an ambassador in the sport, for trying something no other visually impaired athlete had ever done. He deserves major props, no matter the miles.

The stretch between Green Gate and ALT at mile 85 was some nice runnable singletrack with a bit of climbing. Very narrow. I tried to run as much as I could. I am sure Ryan would say otherwise 😂 Still, at some point, the narrowness of the singletrack combined with the fact that much of it was on a sidehill started to really get to me. It was like some sort of weird vertigo. I felt sure I was right on the edge and about to go tumbling down the cliff. The darkness and the headlamp glow no doubt made it worse. I kept holding my arms out in an attempt to brace myself, so to speak. There were also many spots where it appeared part of the trail or big rocks at the side of the trail had been pushed over the edge, perhaps by horses? It left weird semi-holes in the narrow trail that made me feel even more anxious. I had to pee several times along this stretch and there was literally nowhere to go. At one point, I just say forget it, and squatted right at the edge of the trail. Of course, then a light came around the corner. I quickly got up and I apologized, feeling like I was being completely inappropriate, but there was really no choice. Right before the aid station I really had to go too, so on the hillside before the final descent, we turned off our lights so I could pee. A voice called up into the darkness, "hello?!" Ha.

The volunteers here at ALT at mile 85 were friendly as ever, even in the early morning darkness, although they were really pushing the broth! I may have been a bit too gruff with my "no" about that. Sorry, guys! I took a quesedilla and a few chips and we headed back off into the darkness. The stretch from Green Gate to ALT was slow too. We arrived at 4:30 am.

There was more vertigo-inducing narrow sidehill singletrack after the aid station but the day was rising and once the light hit, it was easier to run. We passed several guys in this stretch, one of whom was sitting with his pacer at a corner in a draw by the side of the trail, slumped over. Having daylight boosted my spirits but I was tired. Ryan was good at encouraging me to run, but I'm sure I was a bit cranky! There was a long downhill into the next aid station, rather uneven, and my quads and feet were beginning to feel the miles. As we got closer, we could hear Prince blaring from the speakers and it made us laugh. We pulled in at 6:14 am.

As we were running along the edge of the draw, looking back at the rising sun, all I could think of was the lyrics of Toad the Wet Sprocket's Is it For Me - "now open your big eyes and take in the sunrise..."

I put on a big smile as we hit the aid station, because the volunteers deserve it, and heck yes, it's less than 10 miles to the finish from here, and one of the aid station guys said, "You're smiling! Yours is the first smile in like 4 hours!" I mean seriously, people, I know we're all hurting here, but smile at the volunteers. And say thank you. They are out here for us. Be nice!

Quarry Road, mile 90.7, is manned by the Rogue Valley Runners out of Oregon, with Hal Koerner as their leader, and he was there, still, hours after the leaders had gone through. Ryan had the stroke of genius to ask him to pose for a photo with me so that we could send it along to Mindy, who loves Hal. And seriously, he is dreamy 😍 He was a good sport and obliged. There may also have been a bit of dancing to the music as I was eating my chips. I seriously hope the photographer who took that photo posts it somewhere 😂😂

😍😎

Taking in the river views

Less than 10 miles to go! And nice rolling gravel fire road to run on. The road ran along the river, and there were big patches of blackberries ripening roadside. Had to stop to pick a few ripe ones! Always time for fresh berries on the run 😃

Gotta stop and pick some berries! What? Does no one else do this mid-race?! 

Having fun at mile 90+!

I could definitely see here that the front runners would no doubt fly on this stretch. It was rolling and lovely. Well until it wasn't. Then we turned off the fire road onto a nasty grind up a rutted out, rocky, loose hillside trail to Highway 49. Ugh. That was completely unnecessary! Even Ryan was grumbling!

From the highway, it was another mile or so up to a wide meadow which was home to Pointed Rock aid station at mile 94.3. The climb was another rather nasty one, not easy to find a rhythm on and just a grind. We arrived, finally!, at the aid station at 7:27 am. It was pretty quiet but the volunteers were cooking up food and offering hospitality as if they hadn't been out there all night and morning too. Much appreciated! I had a few fresh pieces of bacon and a few bites of glazed donuts before using the port-a-potty and checking in with James and Kris. Not much needed at this point, so it was pretty quick and we were off again. Time to get it done!

Did someone say bacon?! 

James overseeing the aid station stop, not sure if he approves 😂😆

But first, we had to creep downhill as I babied my quads and feet and panicked because my throat had been getting really scratchy and staring to hurt over the past 10 miles and I was now coughing and feeling seriously anxious about it. I didn't have any cough drops in my pack but I sucked on a ginger chew for a while and that seemed to help. Ryan will say I was losing it a bit here and I can't disagree. Still, you have to cut this girl some slack here. I was doing what I could. It was pretty much all downhill to No Hands Bridge. One woman zoomed past us like we were standing still - I don't think we were, but it sure seemed that way 😂 I didn't have any desire to try and catch her. We caught views of the river and could hear the highway, and then around one final steep downhill, we were at the bridge, where Journey was blasting through the speakers. A quick handful of chips, a swig of coke, and across that infamous bridge. Only a few miles to go!

Look ma, no hands!!! Seriously so cool to cross this bridge!

Grinding up towards Robie Point

My chip didn't register a time there, unfortunately, but it was mile 96.8. We ran across the bridge but then I really needed to pee, so I pulled over onto a side trail to pee and then, after sanitizing of course, tried to get down the handful of chips that I was carrying. It was a nice rolling gravel road for the first mile or so. I ran a bit of the ways and then hiked purposefully the rest of the way. I think I passed about a half dozen people on this stretch. Of course, most of them probably passed me on the downhill at some point earlier on 😉 I was feeling good. The road turned into regular trail, the climb getting steeper as we headed up the hill. I knew it was mostly climbing the rest of the way and I still could power the ups so I did. The singletrack ended in another fire road and we could hear the aid station at the top. We hit Robie Point at mile 98.9 at 8:55 am.

Sub-28 was out, but no matter. I was almost there! 1.3 miles to go and I was going to finish Western States!!! No need to stop, so we hit the pavement and powered uphill, passing houses and spectators cheering. The road is lined with painted footprints printed with WS 100 in them. I almost missed a high five with Tim Twietmeyer as he ran down the road in the opposite direction, which Ryan found deeply amusing.

Western steps

Near the top of the pavement, we found Kris, James, Heidi and Kris's friends Scott and Amy walking towards us and so it was that the whole group of us ran down the final pavement stretch together, smiling, laughing, a happy group, and why not, the finish was near! I passed two runners and their crews/pacers along this stretch.

I love this photo! I have such great friends 💜

Near the track, we could see Sam and Dad waiting for us, and Ryan, Sam and I entered the gate together.

Picking up Sam for the final stretch 💗

Onto the track

It was like some sort of surreal dream, running down the track in Auburn, holding hands with Ryan and Sam, listening to Tropical John announce me as I came down the final stretch, getting a high five from Amy Rusiecki who was cheering on runners at the side of the track with Kyle and his crew.

💖💖💖

And so, with a huge smile on my face and a fist pump in the air, I crossed the line in 28:13:43. Was it the perfect race? Of course not, perfection is tough to reach, but I ran happy, I smiled, I thanked volunteers, I may have whined just a little 😉, I made it through the snow and the canyons, reveled in the beauty of the mountains beyond what I can describe on paper, I was surrounded by family and friends, and heck yes, I finished! And that, well, that is just about as great and perfect an experience as I could ever imagine 💗

They made individual finish line videos of all the finishers. So cool!

There was no one on the track after me, so the trustee who gave me my finisher medal said he'd take a quick photo of us under the arch 💕

RESULTS (splits)

229/319 finished (369 starters)

44/65 women finishers

28:13:43

Gratitude:

I've said it before and I'll say it again, no 100 is run alone. I am incredibly grateful to all the volunteers out on the course and the directors who work so hard to make this race happen. They truly put on an amazing race and it was incredibly wonderful to be part of it!

Many thanks and much love to Mom and Dad, and Irene and Dana, for joining us on this adventure, to supporting me always. It means so much to have had you here for this race. I know it's not a given to have a supportive family in these crazy affairs and I know I am so lucky to have you. 💗

To James, thank you for being such a good friend and agreeing last minute to pace me from Foresthill, for keeping me entertained in the night and joining me for those miles to the river.

To Heidi, thank you for joining James on this trip and supporting me and being so excited about it all and so kind to my family.

To Kris, many thanks for taking the time to spend the weekend with us, for cheerfully spending so many hours dirty and tired and driving around the countryside to see me for a few minutes at a time, for keeping Ryan company, for being an amazing friend and cheerleader. It was so wonderful to have you with us! I am so lucky to have you as one of my bestest friends.

To all my friends cheering me on from afar, thank you. It was amazing to have so much support and love in my corner. 💜

To Sam, for being such a good kid and putting us with all this chaos, and for joining us in running around the track. That was so special. I am a lucky mama!

And most of all, to Ryan, for believing in me, for helping me through my training, for supporting me no questions asked, for being my best friend, for joining me on the trail for the final 22 miles through the darkness and as the sun rose and being perhaps more proud of me as I was of myself for my finish. I love you, and you surely deserve an award for putting up with me. 💞

I feel so lucky, and my heart is so full. Yes, it is just a race, but man oh man, was it a special one!

The Aftermath:

I was totally spent as we walked off the track, and my quads and feet and throat were killing me, but honestly it didn't matter. I was just so happy. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

Crashed out 😴

We hung around at the finish area until the buckle ceremony at 12:30 pm. It was a lot of waiting, which I felt badly about, but everyone was a good sport. I took a shower in the high school gym shortly after finishing, which felt great, but then I simply did not feel good for the remainder of our time waiting for the ceremony. It was hot and I could not get comfortable on the ground or in a chair. We all tried to relax and rest, but it wasn't the easiest place for it. Food was available, but sadly my stomach would not allow me to eat anything substantial. Later in the morning, someone came around with ice cream sandwiches, though, and that hit the spot! And of course, in the end, it was pretty awesome to watch all the finishers recognized individually and get their buckle in grand fashion! 😃

With my biggest fans 💕💕

We dispersed quickly after that, with James, Heidi and Kris headed home while the rest of the crew drove back to Squaw. After another shower, I finally felt up for a real meal and a nice big fresh bacon and avacado and chicken covered salad and strawberry rhubarb pie and ice cream hit the spot. And just like that, the day was over, the buckle earned, it was time to sleep and dream, the smile still on my face. WHAT A DAY! 

BUCKLE!

Random Thoughts and Stats:

26 gels consumed.

One shirt changed.

Same socks and shoes from start to finish. White Nike Wildhorse 5 and bright yellow Darn Tough Micro Crew Ultra Light Cushion Socks. Both shoes and socks were essentially brown at the finish, and were thrown out immediately.

No sitting. No, not even once. And definitely not in the port-a-potties either! 

Strava says 2 hours of stopped time, but I'm sure some of that was really slow steps climbing up Devil's Thumb and through the snow in the high country. I feel like I was pretty efficient with my aid station time, although admittedly there were 21 of them, and of course I did have multiple bathroom stops.

Only 7 s-caps consumed.

Other food eaten: coke, chips, fritos, grapes, a few quesadilla pieces, bacon, two small packets of Peanut Butter Monster trail mix, and a few small bites of glazed donut.

No cramping, although admittedly my quads and feet were hurting and pretty sore for the final 10 miles.

The high country was insanely beautiful but the snow and altitude most definitely slowed me down.

So dusty! Dust was coming out of my nose and tear ducts for several days after the race, and it took my throat a few days to heal up from breathing in all that cold, dry air and dust for 28+ hours.

Lots of poison oak, down in the canyons and in the final 30 miles. Ugh. I washed off with Tecnu after finishing and before showering. Thankfully that seemed to do the trick!

Again, the volunteers were incredible. I felt so well cared for at all the aid stations and the course was very well marked too. No going off course or taking any wrong turns for me!

I know that a lot of people wait years and years to run this race, and I am so grateful to have been lucky enough to get in with 2 tickets. I would say to anyone who is still waiting that it is so worth it. Truly. It was amazing.

I really was thinking "this is nothing like those overpasses in Florida" during some of the climbs 😂And I hope and think I ran with confidence, resiliency and faith as AJW talks about in this most incredibly awesome video. I may have had a few low moments but once I started running, I didn't once think about not finishing.



And well, just, YES! I did it! Western States is done. What a crazy ride!