Oh shit, I just got into Western States!!!
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| The iconic Western States 100 |
In general I consider myself a lucky guy. That said, I've never
won the lottery or anything – no Powerball, no MegaMillions, no
Western States entry. Well, technically I've "won" jury duty
several times, but I don't count that. So I was surprised – and
overjoyed – when I got a phone call informing me that I'd won my running
club's lottery and would receive our automatic entry into the 2013
Western States 100 as the club's designated runner. Woo hoo!
I've been a member of the Quicksilver Running Club of San Jose
since 2004. And for the past 25 years our club has been hosting the Duncan
Canyon aid station at mile 24 of the Western States. As a thank you from
the race, our club gets one automatic entry per year into the race so that
we can send a runner of our choice. Luckily, rather than
just sending our fastest runner (i.e., not me) we hold a
lottery among qualified members. And this year my name got pulled out of the
hat... or the dirty sock, or the empty potato chip bowl, or whatever we use for
such formal occasions.
Two days before the club's lottery I paced my former-coach (and
current-friend) Caitlin Smith, at The North Face - Endurance Challenge
Championship in the Marin Headlands. Caitlin soldiered on through a tough day
to finish 4th in a crowded elite international women's
field. Afterwards, she promised to "pay me back" if I managed to
get into Western States. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad
thing as I was pretty tough on her during the race, cracking the whip mercilessly.
I tried telling Caitlin that it really wasn't necessary for her to pace me;
that she was far too fast to waste her talents pacing a
slow mid-packer like me, and that my wife Amy would be more
than happy to pace me (I paced my wife Amy at Western States last
year). But Caitlin insisted, and so a compromise was drawn. Caitlin would pace
me from Foresthill at mile 62 to the Rucky Chucky River crossing at mile 80,
and then Amy would pace me for the last 20 miles from Green Gate to the track
in Auburn.
I guess I should train, or something?
Last year in 2012 working with Caitlin I had a breakout year with my
running, accomplishing all of my goals for the season – by midseason! I
ran personal bests at virtually every distance from 100 miles down to the mile
(well, technically the Beer Mile to be precise). I won the Ruth Anderson 50K in
April and then pulled out a top-10 sub 24 hour finish at TRT (Tahoe Rim Trail)
100 in July! I was crushing it!
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| Heat & elevation training in the sauna at 7,500' |
But at the end of the summer I was a little burnt out with running and
decided to switch my focus to bicycle racing. I've always been an avid cyclist.
I ride nearly every day. And I own a fleet of bikes including a nice collection
of 1970's vintage racing bicycles, an expensive modern carbon-fiber
race bike, and a couple of mountain bikes. But despite my passion for bicycles
(and bicycling), I'd never done any actual bike racing.
So, I joined a newly formed bike racing team – Leopard/Sapporo out of San
Jose – and started riding 150 miles a week. This didn't leave a lot of time
for running. While I tried to run regularly, my weekly mileage fell to about 30
miles a week. I was having a lot of fun riding and was probably fitter
than ever, but I knew that at some point I would need to start running if I
wanted to do well at Western States. I double checked the rules, and sure
enough it explicitly says that runners are prohibited from using bicycles or
other mechanized transportation. Bummer.
Suddenly, towards the end of April, I realized that I only had about two
months until Western States! Panic time! So I did what any panic-stricken fool
with no common sense would do. I decided to quit cycling cold turkey and to
instantly ramp my weekly running mileage up from 30 miles a week to 120
miles a week overnight. What’s that, clearly a recipe for disaster you say?
Yet somehow – and who knows why – my foolish gamble actually paid
off! After a rough first week where I would randomly fall asleep at my
desk at work, I began to feel stronger. Rather than breaking down, my body
seemed to soak up the miles. At one point, in the middle of the month, I
ran a 50 mile race in 90 degree heat, with no taper, finishing in 7th
place. The next day I didn't even feel tired or sore during my
workout. The next weekend I ran a tough, hilly 50K in similar heat,
finishing 2nd overall, just minutes behind the winner. Hell, I guess I'm ready
for Western States!?!
"No strategy" is also a strategy!
Many runners like to have a "strategy" of some kind going into a
big race. They like to write down all kinds of fancy numbers on complicated
spreadsheets using linear regression to predict when they will arrive at
each checkpoint during the race. However, I wondered to myself if perhaps the
best plan might be to have no plan at all! As the modern-day philosopher Mike
Tyson once quipped, "Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the
mouth".
Of course, this annoyed my wife Amy who, for some odd reason,
wanted to have at least a rough idea of when I might arrive at the aid station
where she would be pacing me from. So, she took it on herself to devise a pace
chart and splits for me. While she wouldn't admit it, I think she
basically just copied down the splits run last year by Jenny Capel and Jen
Pfeifer – two elite women ultra runners who usually beat me.
During my (abbreviated but intense) training and preparation for
Western States I solicited advice and scoured the Internet for any
advice I could find on running the course. I read race reports, blogs, and
articles from guys like Joe Uhan, Andy Jones-Wilkins, and Craig Thornley.
I learned that Western States rarely favors the bold, and that it is far
better to go out easy and save your legs until after the hot canyons as the
last 38 miles provide good running if you’ve still got your
legs underneath you. I also learned that it is apparently better to
go into the race with thick, leathery, sun-scorched skin than to wear
sunblock which can interfere with the body’s natural sweating and cooling
process.
During a short Facebook conversation with Ian Torrence where I asked
what last-minute training I could do just three weeks before the race, he gave
me some good tips but basically just implored me not to do
anything dumb like going for a 12 hour run in a sweat suit
wearing a gas mask and weight vest (damn, how did he know what I was thinking?).
The day before the race Gary Wang advised me to take care of my feet,
as the combination of record heat and wet conditions (it rained for three days
right before the race) would likely cause many people to DNF due to blisters.
Having previously DNF'd from one race due to blisters and having finished
another with bloody skinless feet, I heeded his advice and threw a couple of
extra pairs of socks into my drop bags.
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| Goofing around with buddy Greg Lanctot |
And finally, just minutes before checking into my hotel room and going to
sleep for the evening I had a short talk with professional triathlete Joe
Sanders (who is the boyfriend of the elite runner Bree Lambert) who advised me
to try and eat as much solid food as possible in the early part of the race
before the temperatures got hot and shut down everyone's stomach. Getting some
food in the belly and calories in the bank would pay off later in the heat of
the day when even choking down an energy gel would prove difficult.
It was all great advice, and all of it ended up helping me tremendously on
race day! However, perhaps the best advice I received was on television from
Rocky Balboa two nights before the race. I had just spent an hour in the sauna
(at 150 degree heat) at 7,500 feet elevation on a mountain top resort at
Lake Tahoe. It might have been the extreme heat, or the high
elevation, or the pair of beers I quickly pounded immediately after
stepping out of the sauna, or those cookies I bought from that hippie in
Truckee... but I swear that the movie stopped and Rocky turned
and spoke directly to me:
"John, let me tell you something you already know. Western
States 100 ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. Those canyons are a
mean and nasty place, and I don’t care how tough you are, they will beat
you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let 'em. It's not
about how hard you can run. It’s about how hard you
can get hit and keep moving forward; how much
you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is
done!"
Now I had some great advice and some stellar motivation, but I still didn't
have a race "strategy". Everyone who knows me – and knows how
foolish and impetuous I can be – implored me not to go out too hard on
the opening 4 mile climb. Intuitively I knew this was good advice. But...
I also knew that, 1) I am a great uphill runner, 2) morning
would be the coolest time of the day and best time to do some good
running, and 3) I didn't want to go out too slow and get stuck in a
"Conga line" of hikers. Hmmm, what to do?
Off and running (err, hiking at a moderate pace)
At 5:00 am sharp the shotgun blast sounded and the lead runners flew up the
ski slope. The top guys quickly ripped open a huge lead on the rest
of the field. I settled into about a steady pace nestled among a
group of talented runners including Andy Jones-Wilkins, Simon Mtuy,
Eduardo Vasquez, Amy Sproston, and Emily Harrison as we made our way up
the mountain. I chatted a bit, trying to make sure that I was running and
hiking at a conversational pace and not pushing too hard.
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| Heads down on the opening climb |
At the top of the escarpment I saw my buddy Paul Fick who was volunteering with
the safety patrol (Paul had paced me at Tahoe Rim Trail in 2010). I gave him a
quick pat on the back and then bombed down the steep, rocky backside of the
mountain into the tree line. For the next 12 miles I just cruised along
behind AJW through Lyon Ridge and Red Star Ridge. I managed to pass Simon and a
couple of other runners on the next section to Duncan Canyon despite slowing
down enough to pee a few times (I just pee’d in my pants without bothering to
stop).
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| Top of the first climb |
At mile 24 I ran into the Duncan Canyon aid station which is hosted by my
running club, Quicksilver Running Club of San Jose. This year’s theme was “Western
hoedown” and everyone was dressed in denim and flannel. I almost didn’t recognize
my buddy Jeremy Johnson who looked a bit like Bo from the Duke’s of Hazard. It
was also great seeing so many familiar faces cheering me on including Kristina
Irvin, Jim MaGill, Doug Bailey, and company! Thanks everyone!
Although it was only 9:20 am and the temperature wasn’t yet anywhere near
the 106+ degree high we would encounter in the afternoon, I’d already started
filling my hat and vest pockets up with ice to try and keep my core temperature
down. I felt great as I cruised the next downhill section down into Duncan
Creek where I came across AJW frolicking in the river. I’m not sure, but I
think I spotted him playing with a rubber ducky bath toy out of the corner of
my eye. I plopped down in the river and spent a few seconds cooling myself off.
AJW mentioned that he was going to hike the climb up to Robinson Flat. I
figured I would hike most of it too, but the initial ascent seemed pretty
runnable so I started jogging. It never really got too steep so I actually
ended up running the whole thing. I ended up passing 5 or 6 runners through
this stretch including Cassie Scallon (women’s winner of Lake Sonoma) who I
chatted with briefly. However at one point I had to stop to re-tie a shoelace
and saw a blur as 2:30 women’s marathoner Emily Harrison went flying by up the
mountain!
Here’s a funny and embarrassing story.
Towards the top of the climb up to Robinson I caught up with Western States
legend Erik Skaden, with whom I ran for the next few hours until we got
separated after Devil’s Thumb. I didn’t immediately recognize Erik, whom I had of
course heard of, but never met. Erik hadn’t yet introduced himself and we were
just running along and chatting. Not realizing that I was running with an elite
bad-ass who had twice finished 2
nd at Western States (and twice won Tahoe
Rim Trail 100) I proceeded to offer him all kinds of unsolicited advice on
everything from pacing to race strategy. Ugh!
Luckily Erik is a gracious dude and refrained from punching me in the face. Erik
and I made great time from Robinson Flat down through Miller’s Defeat, Dusty
Corners, and Last Chance. We managed to reel in a couple of elite women including
Denise Bourassa who had gone out hard but were already slowing a bit. However
we were never able to shake AJW who would roll into each aid station behind us
just as we were leaving.
100 degrees in the shade
The hottest measured temperature during the day was 106 degrees at the Rucky
Chucky River crossing at mile 78. However, I am pretty sure that if someone had
carried a thermometer down into the canyons at Devil’s Thumb or El Dorado Creek
it would have topped 110 or 115 degrees! I did my best to stay cool in the
canyons including taking a bath with AJW in a little pool of mountain river
runoff. Again, I took off early while AJW stayed behind a while longer (I think
he had just finished shampooing and was applying hair conditioner).
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| Look ma, no hands! |
I descended well and climbed steadily in the canyons catching up with a few
other runners including Paulo Medina (from Peru) and Henrick Westerlin (from
Denmark, living in India). However, I had to stop and adjust the shoe insert
liners in my Montrail FluidFlex shoes which had become wet were starting to
scrunch up under my toes. AJW and Erik both passed me there, and it would be
the last I would see of either as they both continued to catch people,
finishing 17
th and 21
st respectively.
As I emerged from the last of the canyons into Michigan Bluff I received the
world’s hardest high-five from an enthusiastic Karl Hoagland – owner of
UltraRunning magazine. Luckily my hand didn’t fall off and only suffered mild
bruising. And then moments later, after exiting Michigan Bluff and turning up
on to the Volcano Canyon fireroad I received a “you’re running strong, great
form” from a woman who looked suspiciously like fourteen (14) time Western
States champion Ann Trason. I took my sunglasses off and did a double take.
Yep, Ann Trason just threw me a compliment. Whoa! I debated turning around to
ask for an autograph, but was worried that any sudden movements might cause my
inner quads to cramp.
I was still feeling great, but starting to get a bit worried as I knew that
I would be picking up my first pacer, Caitlin Smith, at Foresthill School in 7
miles. So rather than running Volcano Canyon and Bath Road hard, I took it easy
and did a combination jog / hike to save my energy. I also stuffed down as many
energy gels as possible to make sure I would have some fuel in the tank.
Cal Street
I came into the Foresthill aid station at mile 62 at exactly 5:15 pm, just
as “planned” in the splits that Amy handed me the night before. I was feeling
great and excited to see my Amy, Caitlin, my Mom and John Paul. After a quick
weigh in and medical check (everything was fine and I had only lost a pound or
two) I said a quick “hi, bye” to Amy, my mom and JP and then headed down the
road with Caitlin, trying to finish my popsicle while running.
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| Getting a hug from my crew |
Caitlin set a steady pace and we made great time down the winding single-track
trail on Cal 1. We talked for a bit with Caitlin filling me in on what was going
on with the leaders at the front of the race. Caitlin pushed me pretty hard,
even getting me to run all but the steepest of the hills.
Oddly we didn’t see any other runners for quite a while. However, once we
got out on to Cal 2 parallel to the river we started to finally see some other
runners ahead. We reeled in several people during this section including elite
superstars Jacob Rydman and Hal Koerner (two-time Western States champion),
both of whom had been reduced to walking by this point. It’s always awkward passing
fellow runners in such a fashion. Nonetheless, it did give me a little mental
boost knowing that I had run a smart race and was still moving well!
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| Rucky Chucky River Crossing in 106 degree heat |
I had quite a bit of “chaffage” going on my groin and thigh area (at one
point blood was streaming down the inside of my thighs) and the pain of
entering the water sent me into shock for a moment. However, once the pain
subsided, Caitlin and I crossed the river – which was shoulder-deep in some
places – carefully but quickly.
I told Caitlin that I was planning to just power hike the two mile climb from
the River to Green Gate. After all, almost nobody except the race winners run
this section. Yet somehow the climb didn’t seem that bad and Caitlin and I
ended up running almost the entire thing, passing several more runners before
meeting Amy at Green Gate.
I arrived at Green Gate about 10 minutes faster than predicted (thanks
Caitlin), and I was a bit worried that Amy might not have arrived yet. So I was relieved when
we spotted her, all set and ready to run. Amy later confessed (after the race
of course) that she had gotten lost on the way and only arrived just 10 minutes
before I rolled in! We thanked Caitlin again for doing such an awesome job, and
then Amy and I headed out back into the woods with our headlamps on, ready for
the impending darkness of the setting sun.
The Last Push
Amy and I immediately started arguing and bickering with each other (as
married couples do) before finally settling into a nice pace with Amy leading
the way. We covered the 5 miles to Auburn Lakes Trail (ALT) rather quickly.
While I was impressed and blown away by the all the super helpful-amazing-wonderful volunteers at all
the aid stations all day long, I must admit I was still holding a bit of grudge
against the smug cocky kid who worked the medical scales at ALT last year. He unfairly
gave many of the runners a hard time last year about their weight including my
wife Amy, who he threatened to pull due to basic math miscalculations on his
part (read this year’s women’s champion Pam Smith’s account last year of how he
also unfairly pulled her for several hours last year).
I stepped on the scales and saw, with great relief, that my weight was fine.
As I stepped off and headed out the guy behind the scales (I'm not 100% sure if it was the same guy from last year or not) tried to catch me offguard with a trick question,
“Your weight is Ok, but how are you
feeling?”.
A lot of smart-ass retorts went through my head including, “I’m
feeling like kicking your ass.” But
instead I played it cool and quipped, “I’m feeling fucking awesome. How are
you feeling?”.
Safely out of ALT, I jogged a bit to eat another popsicle before starting
the long climb up towards Brown’s Bar. Another runner and his pacer came flying
out of the aid station and asked if they could kindly pass us. Amy and I
stepped aside and let them through while I finished my frozen treat. Sixty
seconds later we re-passed them as Amy cranked up the pace. I was a bit worried
that we were running too fast with 15 miles still to go, but I wasn’t hurting or anything
so I figured what the heck. We continued moving well all the way to Brown’s Bar
at mile 90.
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| This is what I came for! |
Coming down the steep single-track from Brown’s Bar we came across Emily
Harrison and her pacer Ian Torrence standing at the intersection of several
trails. It was quite dark, and I thought maybe they were lost or confused as to
which way to run. We chatted briefly and Ian assured me that everyone was fine
(I still have no idea what they were standing in the middle of the trail
discussing, though I can only guess that perhaps Emily was having a rough
spot).
As we ran up the long, long, long fire road towards the Highway 49 crossing
I looked back and saw that Emily was also running strong and just hanging a
couple hundred meters back. I joked to Amy that if we were going to try and
drop Emily we’d better do it now because there was no way that I was going to
win a sprint against a high-school state champion and NCAA All-American.
Amy and I hit the Highway 49 crossing and started to get excited. The finish
line was only 6 miles away! Unfortunately I got a bit too excited and made my
first real mistake / miscalculation of the day. I didn’t take in any calories
at the aid station! Somehow in my head I was thinking that with only 10K to go
I already had it in the bag. But what I forgot was that 10K through the
mountains at night on rugged trails takes a lot longer than 10K on a flat bike
path.
Amy led the way up the climb and then down the descent into No Hands Bridge
which was lit up like a Christmas tree at night. It really was an amazing
sight! As we refilled my bottles and headed out we noticed Brett Rivers
(co-owner of San Francisco Running Company) standing around. He was pacing his
buddy Jorge Maravilla (the other co-owner) who finished 8
th overall
last year, but who was apparently struggling a bit this year and was in the bathroom
taking care of business.
Amy and ran across the bridge and then began the long two mile climb up to
Robie Point. The early part of the climb was only a slight uphill grade, which
I would normally run with ease. But suddenly the cumulative heat of the day (it
was still 82 degrees out even at night) and the lack of calories were catching
up to me. I didn’t have the energy or will to run any longer; so we walked.
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| Crewing is hard work too! |
Emily and Ian came running by and offered some encouragement. Ian even
grabbed my arm and pulled me for a second urging me to run. And I did. For
about 5 seconds. And then it was back to hiking. We slowly made our way up to
the paved street at the top of Robie Point. It was just after 1:00 am and a few
people were still out in front of their houses cheering us on.
I had been feeling nauseous for a while but figured I could keep it together
and hold it down. However, right as we got near the top of Robie Drive, I had
to stop and empty the contents of my stomach (which thankfully wasn’t much) onto
the street. Puking in public; Awww, reminds me of college at Michigan!
After the quick purge I felt rejuvenated and ran the last uphill section. I
could see and hear the lights and loud voices of Jorge and his crew just 100
yards behind us. I was dreading a sprint finish on the track. Luckily I was
able to run the last downhill ½ mile pretty strong and hit the track alone,
with a minute lead over Jorge.
I ran out on to the track to a cheering crowd. Tropical John Medinger,
sitting high up in the press box above the field began announcing, “Now on the
track, number 119, Big Johnny Burton from San Jose, California. John lists his
occupation as 'exotic male dancer'. John says his greatest athletic accomplishment
was his second-place finish at the 2012 Silicon Valley Beer Mile Championships
with a time of 6:39 that included drinking 4 beers. John is being paced by his
wife Amy Burton who finished the race last year…”
And then I staggered across the finish line in 20:37:33. I was grinning like
a kid, exhausted but elated! As I lay in the infield, unable to move, I asked
Amy to walk over to the results board to see how I had done. She signaled back
that I had finished 22
nd man and 29
th overall out of
nearly 400 starters. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not! If so, I never
wanted to wake up! What a race.
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| 100.2 miles really isn't that far :) |
