Overgrown Fat Ass 50K Race Report: A Duel to the Death in the Mountains, Peeing my Pants, and Getting Drunk on Moonshine

This event was crazy from the start!
Photo by Jean Pommier

Where the hell do I start?

Let's start with the fact that I'm running Western States this year! Woo hoo! I was amazingly fortunate to receive an automatic entry into the Western States 100 Endurance Run this year thanks to my Quicksilver Running Club. Each year the club hosts the Duncan Canyon aid station  at mile 24. Therefore we get an automatic entry each to be raffled off among club. And this year I was selected as the club's designated runner!

So, you'd think that Western States would be my main focus this year, my A race, my basket in which I'm putting all my eggs. But oddly, while I'm looking forward to Western States and certainly want to do well, it is actually the Ohlone 50K, held on my birthday (May 19th) that dominates my thoughts. Ohlone is the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. When I'm out on a hard training run suffering, it's Ohlone that keeps me motivated. "If you want to crush Ohlone, you need to attack this hill!".

OK, so back to the title of this post... the Overgrown Fat Ass 50K. Every year, the Sunday after the Super Bowl, Quicksilver teammates Adam Blum and Sean Lang organize a small, informal 31 mile jaunt through the mountains. The run starts in Los Gatos and runs up and over Mount El Sombroso via Limekiln and then drops down Woods Road  into Almaden Quicksilver County Park... where we turn around at English Camp and then run back the way we came, back up and over the mountain.

Since this is a "Fat Ass" run and not an formal, organized permitted race, there are no aid stations. However, Adam and Sean's wives do hang out at the Woods Road parking lot with a few jugs of water, an assortment of delicious foods and snacks, and -- for those who are brave/foolish enough to partake -- an adult beverage or two. Each year the parking lot buffet has a different theme such as Irish Pub, Mexican Cantina, or as was the case this year, Cops & Robbers (aka moonshine bootleggers).

Cops and Robbers themed aid station

This event is really just an excuse to log a few early-season miles, get a little "sloppy" in the mountains, and have fun with some good friends. No one really goes out intending to hammer it like a real race. Well, no one except me perhaps. But I've got a good reason. Each February, I like to use the Overgrown Fat Ass as a tune-up race for Ohlone in May. While Overgrown has only 6,000 ft of elevation (compared to the 8,000 of Ohlone), they are both extremely tough courses with lots of hilly and exposed fire trails.

I'd done a fair share of smack talking the days leading up to the event, announcing how I was planning to run hard and hopefully drop everyone. However, I knew that was going to be tough to impossible when I saw that Christopher Wehan (who finished 4th this year at Miwok 100K) was planning to run. My plan was to go out ridiculously hard, hoping that everyone else would go out at an easy conversational pace, allowing me to grab an insurmountable early lead.

I hammered the hell out of the early miles, racking up numerous Strava CRs (Course Records) in the early miles. But when I glanced back over my shoulder at mile 5, my worst fears were confirmed. Chris was running hard and reeling me in. I continued to push the pace to the top of the mountain, and then down the other side.

At one point, I even intentionally peed in my pants (a proud first for me) rather than losing time by stopping or slowing down to pee. This pants-peeing came in the middle of 5 mile section where I averaged 6:38 pace down the mountain. I didn't even break stride whilst wetting myself. And yes, it was gross. But yes, my shorts (and left sock and shoe) all quickly dried again within minutes. I think I remembered to wash them afterwards???

Chris Wehan taking it easy on me for a few miles!
Photo by Jean Pommier

Chris finally caught me at mile 14, just after he and I both flew through the make-shift parking lot aid station without stopping. As soon as he caught me, I gave up and was ready to call it a day. I thought about walking back to the parking lot and hitching a ride back to Las Gatos in my wife's car. But Chris was a gentleman and slowed down enough that I could jog with him for the 5 mile out-and-back section before we returned to the parking lot.

And now for the part where I foolishly drink Apple Pie Moonshine at the aid station and then stumble around the mountain for the next 45 minutes on wobbly legs. Chris, who I think also drank a shot of moonshine (or at least ate a moonshine-soaked strawberry) picked up the pace at this point and ran off up the mountain. I jogged leisurely, stopping a couple of times to use the bathroom. Eventually, after about 45 minutes, I started feeling good again and picked the pace back up. But it was too late... Chris was long gone.

I hammered the last few miles and finished in 4:21:23, about 8:37 average pace. This was nearly 40 minutes faster than my 4:59:20 winning time from two years ago. In fact, I think it might actually be the fastest trail 50K that I have ever run! Now, if I can only duplicate that at Ohlone in May :)

The Marathon That Took an Entire Week to Finish!

I'm unfortunately not a particularly fast marathoner. And while I am convinced that I should be able to crack 3 hours, my current marathon PR is actually only just 3:09 or so. Nonetheless, I was shocked when it took me an entire week to finish my latest marathon! Here's the catch... I ran it on the installment plan.

On Saturday, December 8th, I ran the Summit Rock half marathon in Saratoga. The following Saturday, December 15th, I ran the Hoover Dam half marathon, outside Las Vegas. So, two half marathons... a week apart. Combine them, and I it took my an entire week to run one (relatively slow) marathon.


Summit Rock (Trail) Half Marathon

Beautiful Sanborn Skyline County Park

The Summit Rock trail half marathon, put on by Brazen Racing, takes place at one of my favorite trails in the San Francisco Bay Area -- Sanborn Skyline County Park. This place is a real hidden gem. The park is hidden away among the Redwoods at the foot of the Santa Cruz mountains, on a little traveled road just outside downtown Saratoga.

I have a season parking pass to the park, so I try to run there as often as possible to recoup my investment. However, to be honest, unless you go on a weekend you rarely need a pass as the park is usually completely empty during the week with nobody working the entrance booth. So I was pleasantly surprised two years ago when Brazen Racing announced that they would be holding an event at the park.

Trying to intimidate the competition with my physique

I ran the inaugural 1/2 marathon at Summit Rock in 2010 and finished in second place, with a time of 1:50:05, a few minutes ahead of the third place guy, but over ten minutes back of race winner Lon Freeman. I didn't run the race in 2011 due to a scheduling conflict, but looking at the results I noticed the first and second place runners from 2011, both of whom ran faster times than me, were also on the entrants list for this year. Considering that I was just getting back into shape and not yet in peak form, I knew it was going to be difficult to try and get up on the podium this year.

Trying to muster "good form" for the camera

I decided to go out conservatively, reasoning that if I restrained myself on the first four miles (which were all uphill), I would have more energy left to run the last four downhill miles hard -- and hopefully reel in as many front runners as possible. It was a great plan... but the execution fell a bit short. I did manage to pass several other runners during the last few miles but ultimately I ran out of real estate (and energy), finishing in 4th place just off the podium. My time of 1:50:49 was 46 seconds slower than my PR from two years prior, but not too shabby for a guy who has only been running an average of 15 miles a week.


Hoover Dam (Trail/Train Tunnel/Bike Path) Half Marathon

Hoover Dam

Having never seen the Hoover Dam before, I was excited when I learned that Calico Racing was going to be running a race from Lake Mead to the Hoover Dam and back the same weekend that I was going to be traveling to Las Vegas!

Looking at the course profile, I had no idea what kind of finishing time or average pace to expect. The course seemed to be comprised of a combination of grades and surfaces including a few miles of hilly paved bike path, several miles of wide dirt road that passed through six or seven mountain tunnels (that used be part of a railway line), with a few flights of winding concrete stairs and some parking lot loops thrown in for good measure.

As the race started, I went out with the front runners for the first uphill section. However two strong-looking runners soon went off the front. I glanced down at my watch to see what kind of pace we were doing. Seeing that we were already doing 6:30 pace (for a tough uphill section) I wisely decided not to pick up the pace any further and eased off a little, letting the two front runners go.

Running in the desert

Somewhere around mile 2 I got passed by one runner, and then another. If I wanted to try and finish on the podium with a top 3 spot, I figured I better try and hang with these two guys. And I did. At least for a few miles. However as we approached the mile long uphill climb to the turn-around point at the Hoover Dam, I decided to ease off and run a bit more conservatively. I wanted to make sure I saved something for the way back.

Tunnel vision!

I ran the return section pretty hard, assuming that I was probably gaining on the front runners. So I was quite surprised when another runner caught me from behind, moving fast. I tried to jump in behind him and stay with him, but cranking off a sub 6 minute mile I decided the pace was a little too rich for me.

Just as I was starting to bonk in the last mile I heard the furious horn honks of a passing car and looked over to see my brother Erik and his son Tony cheering me on. I gave everything I had trying to catch a runner about a hundred yards in front of me, but I came up short, finishing 7th overall. However, I did manage to squeeze in just under an hour and a half with a time of 1:29:44. Not bad for a course with over 2,000 feet of vertical gain!

The Return of Running John

As I look back, 2012 was an amazing year for me in terms of my running. Working together with my new coach, Caitlin Smith, I basically achieved (and exceeded) every goal I had set for the year! Some of my highlights included:

• 1st place at Ruth Anderson 50K (shaving nearly 13 minutes off my 50K PR)
• 7th place at Ohlone 50K with my fastest time ever on that course
• 3rd place at North Country 50 Mile (taking 20 minutes off my 50 mile PR)
• 9th place at Tahoe Rim Trail 100 Mile with a sub 24 hour finish time
• 1st place at a couple of small, local 10K races

Yet despite all my success, I felt I needed to take a little break this winter as the ultra racing season wrapped up in the fall. While I managed to finish the Bear 100 in October, it was quite a suffer fest and my heart really wasn't in it. Similarly, I pretty much felt the same about Dick Collin's Firetrails 50 mile a couple of weeks later. I ran respectably, but didn't really feel motivated or strong.

After talking with my coach Caitlin I decided to take some time off from structured running and racing, and let my body heal up. I must admit, I hit the beer, ice cream and pizza pretty hard. And I put on a few pounds. I didn't stop working out completely though. I was still running 10 - 20 miles a week. And I was biking 100 - 200 miles a week. But it felt nice, like being on vacation.

However, all that came to an end when Caitlin asked me if I would be willing to pace her for the last 25 miles of her 50 mile race at the The North Face Challenge championship in San Francisco. I was honored! But I was also scared shitless. Caitlin is FAST. She qualified for and ran in the US Olympic marathon trials in 2012. And she won almost every road race and trail race she entered, often setting the course record as well. If I was going to stay with her, much less provide any useful assistance, I needed to get back in shape -- quickly!

Luckily, all the bike riding had kept my cardio fitness in decent shape. I just needed to drop a few pounds and get some leg speed back. I modified my diet, added some track workouts, and did hundreds of push ups and pull ups every day. My life started looking a lot like a Rocky Balboa training montage.

I showed up at the race feeling nervous but hopefully. Caitlin had won this race in 2009 and she was hoping to repeat in 2012 after being away from the sport for the last two years while focusing more on the Olympic trials. I knew it was going to be tough as an elite field from around the world had been assembled in San Francisco this year, all hoping to take home the $10,000 prize for first place.

Pacing Caitlin at The North Face 50
photo courtesy Brett Rivers

I'm not going to write an actual race report since it wasn't my race. Caitlin had a tough day but hung in impressively for 4th place. I was incredibly proud of her for gutting it out. While she didn't win and ended up finishing just off the women's podium, she still ran an amazing race and finished ahead of many of the top names in an international field of elite ultra runners. You can read all about the race on Caitlin's blog here.

Silicon Valley Beer Mile Championship

Each year at Thanksgiving I like to sit down and give thanks for the blessings in my life. The Universe has bestowed many gifts upon me including great friends, a loving family, and a fulfilling career that lets me put food on the table.

I've also been blessed with a few rather peculiar physical talents including the the endurance to run stupid long distances, the leg strength to propel myself on a bicycle at super high speeds for super short distances, and the surprising ability to consume large quantities of alcohol in rather short periods of time. While the first two skills have come in useful for bike racing and ultra running, I never imagined the latter talent would prove useful outside of a college fraternity setting.

However, I firmly believe that God does not play dice with the universe. We are given our gifts for a reason. And when I saw a post in my Facebook feed about the upcoming Silicon Valley Beer Mile Championships on Nov 21, it suddenly became clear that this is why I was put on this Earth. Here was an event that combined my two greatest skills -- running fast and chugging alcohol. My destiny had found me!

In order to make sure I didn't embarrass myself on race day, I did a couple of practice test runs on the street outside my house. I got a few odd looks from my neighbors as I set up a table with four cans of beer on the curb and then proceeded to take my shirt off and chug beers and sprint up and down the block. But luckily no one called the cops. In return, I graciously made an effort not to puke on anyone's lawn.

On race night I showed up at the track with my four cans of beer, wondering how fast I could run and hoping to finish in the top 3. My goal was to run break 7:00 minutes, and hopefully to go under 6:45. This includes drinking time (four beers) and running time (four laps around the track). I'd run a 7:09 in one of the practice attempts outside my house at 80% effort. So I figured that on race day I should be able to run close to 6:30. I figured that this would give me a shot to win, depending on who else showed up, and would at least put me on the podium.

The race officials gave us our instructions and then sent us on our way. I popped open my first beer and slammed it down in seconds. As I tossed the empty can and started running down the straight-away I assumed I was first out of the blocks and in the lead. But I noticed a guy about 50 yards ahead of my on the track. Was this guy in the race? And how the hell did he get so far in front of me so quickly?

I slowly reeled him in during the each lap, but then he would regain his lead during every beer. Apparently he was slamming his beers much more quickly than I was. I had met my match. After finishing the race in 2nd place with a 6:39, I learned that the guy who won -- in a blazing time of 6:14 -- was 2010 former beer mile champion Chris Weiler.

I left feeling both ecstatic and disappointed (as well as a bit tipsy). I'd run a PR and thrown down an impressive time, but I'd come up a bit short. Perhaps, as my wife remarked, "if you're not puking afterward, you're not running hard enough". Did I run too conservatively? Should I have spent more time polishing my beer chugging technique? In the end, I was left with only questions. Questions that will haunt me for 365 days until next Thanksgiving.

Dick Collins Firetrails 50 Mile - Race Report

A mere two weeks after running the Bear 100, I found myself standing at the starting line of Dick Collins Firetrails 50 wondering what the hell I was doing.  Was it really wise to try and race 50 miles so shortly after having suffered through one of the hardest 100 milers I'd ever run? Would my legs, (which seemed fairly well recovered) hold up for the entire race, or would they fail me on the second half of the hilly course?

Conventional wisdom, as well as previous experience, both suggested that I should probably skip Firetrails and take a couple of more weeks of rest. But my ego had a different opinion. My ego suggested that conventional wisdom and prior experience were a bunch of pansies who should mind their own business. And so, on race morning, I stood shivering (shirtless), in the front of the pack, armed with only my ego and a handheld water bottle.

The starting gun sounded and I took off with the lead pack, running fast -- faster than I had any business running. As I tore along the trail with the front runners in "attack mode" I started having fantasies of a top 10 finish. However, somewhere around mile 4 those fantasies came crashing down. Suddenly my legs started complaining and I shifted from attack mode to survival mode. It was somewhere around this time that my Quicksilver teammates Toshi and Jeremy blew past me, as did women's front runner Jenny Capel. They would all go on to run great races!

Somewhere around mile 8 I decided to call it quits and drop out at the next aid station, Skyline Gate at mile 11. It just wasn't my day. My pace was slowing down and I was feeling like crap. A group of 5 to 10 runners flew by me like I was standing still. Yep, best to call it a day.

But then a funny thing happened at about mile 10 on the uphill section approaching Skyline Gate. I looked ahead and saw that I was gaining on the group of 5 to 10 runners that had passed me earlier. They were all walking the uphill, looking rather ragged. And I was somehow running it -- and rather effortlessly in fact. I was a bit annoyed. I wanted to DNF. But one of my golden rules is to never drop from a race if I am moving well and passing other runners. So unfortunately I had to continue on.

And so it continued for the rest of the race. Every time I came to an uphill where everyone else was walking, I somehow managed to run it. For some reason, the uphills felt easy and runnable. I didn't have any leg speed or turnover and would lose a bit of ground on the flats, but every time the course turned upwards I would regain the lost ground.

photo by Brett Rivers

As I approached the last aid station before the finish line I knew that I only had about 5 more miles to go, and much of it downhill. I had been running a bit conservatively and saving some energy for this last push home. Now was the time to unleash it! I glanced back to see if anyone was behind me and was surprised to see Quicksilver teammate Clare Abram, who had moved up into 2nd place in the women's race. I gave her a quick shout of encouragement and then hit the gas, hoping to reel in a runner or two in front of me.

In retrospect I probably stepped on the gas a bit too hard, and a bit too early. With about 1 mile to go I found myself out of energy and walking the last little uphill section of the paved bike path. I coasted into the finish in 20th place overall, running on fumes and just thankful to be done. My finishing time of 8:23:33 was about 5 minutes slower than my previous best at Firetrails. But all in all, it turned out much better than it could have!

Making Friends with the Bear

The Bear 100 - Logan, Utah to Fish Haven, ID

This isn't one of those blogs! I'm not going to spend thirteen paragraphs boasting about what a bad-ass I am or recounting how I had to dig deep to overcome insurmountable odds. Nope, that's not how it went down.

While finishing the Bear 100 was perhaps the hardest thing I've done, oddly there was no epic struggle. No fierce battle between man and elements. No fight to the death. Rather, it was just a matter of  punching the time clock and putting in a full day's work.

Yes, it was a brutal course with somewhere between 23,000 and 27,000 feet of elevation gain. Yes, it got warm during the day and cold during the night. Yes, I was ridiculously tired and actually fell asleep on my feet several times. Yes, it would have been easier if I'd had a crew and/or a pacer. Yes, I probably should have asked for coffee at the aid stations or packed some 5 Hour Energy. Yes it took me nearly 29 hours to complete!

But part of me didn't care. It had been a long racing season already. I'd trained hard and raced strong at Tahoe Rim Trail 100 in late July. I'd gone "all in" at the  North Country 50 Run in Michigan in August and nearly hospitalized myself. I just didn't have much left, physically or mentally, to go hard at the Bear.

So I gave myself permission to take it easy. Permission to jog instead of racing. Permission to walk whenever I felt like it. Permission to sit down on a rock and take in the views without worrying about how much time I was losing.

No crew. No pacer. No GPS. No headphones. No trekking poles. No performance enhancing drugs. No cell phone. No bullshit.

It was nice! Well, it was nice for the first 50 miles. And even later when it started to really suck, like in the middle of the night when I was stumbling along the trail barely able to stay awake, I always knew I would get the job done. Even when I started to have fantasies about how nice it would be to DNF and curl up in a sleeping bag, I knew I wasn't actually going to quit.

I was cold. I was tired. My feet were shredded. And I still had 25 miles to go. It sucked. And I knew there would be more suckiness to come. But I knew I could handle it.

A brutal yet beautiful course

Finally, at the last aid station with only 8 miles left to go, I decided to break all my rules. I downed an energy drink, popped a pain pill, and actually put in a bit of strong running. I hammered the last section of the course like I was running a 10K. Clearly I had a lot left in the gas tank.

When I crossed the finish line there were no tears of joy. I didn't let out a primal scream or high five anyone. I just sat down under a shady tree and quietly enjoyed a cold bottle of water. I had earned it!

North Country Run, 50 Mile Race Recap



Sometimes 100% Isn't Enough: A Tale of How I Gave Everything but Came Up Short


I said, "No comment!"

I've run hard before, occasionally. Relatively hard anyway. Not, make-myself-piss-blood-afterwards hard. But hard enough. After all, this is ultra running. We can't suffer at the same intensity for a 50 miler as we can for a 5K. Well, perhaps we can. But really, who the hell would want to? That's a lot of suffering!

This past weekend I travelled to my home state of Michigan to take part in The North Country Run 50 Mile in the Manistee National Forest. I won't lie: I was hoping to win!

You never know who's going to show up at one of these things, or who's going to have the race of their life. But I figured that unless some Midwestern bad ass like David Riddle, Zach Gingerich, or Zach Bitters showed up, I should have just as much of a chance as anyone of bringing home the win.

Spoiler: I didn't win. I did however manage to claw my way (albeit briefly) up into second place with just two miles left in the race. But then I promptly fell back to third place in the last mile when both of calves decided to stage a work protest. Note: In case you haven't tried it before, running with fully-seized calves doesn't work well. It also makes one look rather ridiculous.

As I hobbled toward the finish line (in what felt like ultra slow motion) with my legs flailing in all directions, my left arm pinned to my chest (my left bicep and pectoral muscle had cramped as well), and my face contorted in a twisted grimace, I couldn't help but wonder if all the teary-eyed, overly-supportive spectators cheering their heads off were thinking, "Oh my goodness, look at that special-needs guy! If he can finish a 50 miler anyone can. How inspiring! Way to go little buddy!"

But I've gotten ahead of myself. Let's regress a bit...

Pre-Race Game Plan

John (right) and pacer Bill Pritchett (left)

My pacer looked me in the eye at dinner the night before the race and asked, "OK, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Plan? What? Huh? I'm supposed to have a plan? Oh shit!

My buddy Bill Pritchett had agreed to pace me for the second of the two 25 mile loops that I'd be running during the race. Bill and I met years ago at an SAP conference; we had both brought running shoes to the conference in hopes of slipping quietly out of a session or two to sneak in a run.

We've been "conference running buddies" ever since, logging runs together at SAP conferences around the world (by "world" I generally mean the greater Orlando Disney area of course).

Bill works for Dow Corning in Midland, Michigan. He's an accomplished marathoner (and triathlete) who has run the Boston Marathon several times. When I told him that I was coming back to Michigan to run a 50 mile race, he was excited about the chance to run the last 25 miles with me.

I casually mentioned that the course would be "a bit hilly", while conveniently neglecting to mention that there would be about 2,500 ft of elevation gain per 25 mile loop. Whereas Bill's hilliest road marathon, the Boston marathon, only had 783 ft of elevation gain. This would later prove to be rather important!

First 25 Miles: Wee, What Fun!

He's won Badwater (4 times) and climbed Mt. Everest

For reasons unclear to me at the time (and never later explained) our 50 mile trail race included an additional gratuitous "bonus mile" on an out-and-back section of parking lot and paved road. I can only assume that this was done in order to allow guest race official, ultra-stud Marshall Ulrich (driving an off-road ATV) to lead us on a ceremonial opening mile along the road.

Unsure of where we were going or why we were running down the road AWAY from the trail, I decided to hang back conservatively in the lead pack until we figured out what the hell we were doing. There was a lot of mumbling and confusion.

No one seemed overly concerned when a stocky young woman, who looked more like a Rugby player than a long distance runner, charged off the front and opened up a huge lead. I would later learn that it was 3:07 marathoner Megan Rieger -- and yes, she went on to win the women's race and finish 8th overall, just 15 or so minutes behind me.

Confusion at the starting line

After we hit the trail and started the first long climb, I made an on the fly decision to back off the pace and let the lead pack of 8 or 9 runners go. I felt everyone was moving at much too fast a pace to maintain for 50 miles. My plan (loosely formed and rather impromptu) was to run the first loop at a comfortable pace, while ideally staying near the top 10, and then to reel in as many people as possible on the second loop once I had picked up my pacer Bill.

At the half-way point of the first lap I came across Jesse Scott, who I had run with at both my Tahoe Rim Trail 100 and the North Fork 50 in Colorado. Small world! Jesse was running the marathon race, and then pacing a friend and client of his for the last 14 miles of the 50 miler. All this after having just run Leadville 100 a couple of weeks prior. Dude is crazy!

I kept moving along at a decent pace, slowly moving up in the field and catching a couple of runners on the second half of the first loop. The last few miles were rather hilly and I was able to run all the hills without too much effort. Note: this would not be the case later during the second loop!

Second 25 Miles: Ugh, Help!

As I finished the first loop and came into the start/finish area I was happy to see my pacer Bill waiting and ready to go (and not stuck in the port-o-potty line or otherwise occupied). Bill, with his fresh legs, set a good pace on the first long climb. In fact he set too good a pace. So good that I watched with admiration as he effortless ascended the hills, getting smaller and smaller in the distance as I slipped behind.

I yelled up at Bill to hold on for a minute, fabricating some story about need to stop and pee. Actually I did pee. I didn't know it at the time, but it would be the only time I would pee during the nearly eight hour race. It would also be the last time I would pee normal looking clear fluid that didn't look like used engine oil or coca-cola mixed with blood. I guess it's called Rhabdomyolysis. Whatever.

Eventually Bill's adrenaline wore off and he slowed down a bit. We were still moving at a nice clip though. Suddenly we came up on the back of a group of three shirtless runners. I had prepped Bill the day before on my strategy for passing other competitors during the race. I like to pass decisively with such force and acceleration that people don't even think about trying to go with you.

I flew by the group of runners at what felt like 5K pace. I heard a bunch of groans and expletives. More importantly, I didn't hear any footsteps. Just the way I like it. But to be sure, I stayed on top of the pace for another half mile or so, just to make sure that I opened up a big enough gap to keep me out of sight.

Bill and I continued running steady and moving up in the filed. We caught a couple of more runners. Things were looking good! And then things hit the fan. I'm not sure how exactly it happened, but at some point Bill and I found ourselves with empty water bottles miles out from the next aid station. Bill offered me his last sip of Gatorade. I felt like Chevy Chase in that desert scene in The Three Amigos.

The dehydration, combined with the 90 degree heat and the hills, took away our will to run. We started walking the hills. Eventually we made it to the next aid station. I drank what seemed like a good 5 or 6 liters or water and sports drink before moving on. Oddly though, I still felt thirty. But I rationed my water and kept moving forward -- walking the hills and running the flats and downhills.

The Finish

World's largest finisher's medal?

I assumed that I was moving pretty slowly and probably slipping back in the field. So I was quite surprised when I caught two more runners. Then people at the aid stations started telling me that I was in third place and that the lead runner was just ahead. My pacer Bill had stopped to use the bathroom and had lingered at the last aid station to eat some watermelon. So I made the decision to push on alone and try and catch the runner in second place.

Finally I saw him. He appeared to be in almost as bad shape as me. We were both walking an uphill. I dropped the hammer and shifted into a higher gear, cranking the speed up to 3.5 mph. I blew by him, hobbling up the hill like... an 80 year old man with a broken hip trying to navigate an icy sidewalk. It wasn't pretty.

However, my glory was short lived. Eventually the uphill ended and we had a mile of downhill and flat. I simply couldn't run. Both calves knotted up. Then, just for good measure, my left bicep cramped up. And so did my left pectoral muscle. WTF!

John representing California

I limped the last mile in agony, cursing and laughing intermittently. Finally the finish line came in sight and I launched my finishing "sprint". The last 100 meters probably took me over a minute. I don't know. And I don't really care.

On the one hand, I was disappointed that I didn't win. This was a race that I had been looking forward to all year, and one that I had invested a lot of time, money, and emotional energy into. On the other hand, 3rd place isn't too shabby I guess.

And apparently I ran a 50 mile PR. My finishing time of 7:54:43 is about 24 minutes faster than my previous best of 8:18:16 at Dick Collins Firetrails 50 in Oct, 2010.

Click here for Strava data.


Note: Special thanks to my pacer Bill Pritchett to getting me to the race (it's a long story) and doing a great job pacing me the second lap!