Although I’ve run 100 miles or more on three separate occasions now, the number of actual 100-mile trail races that I’ve completed to this point has been one: The Bighorn 100 in 2022. After running Bighorn in 28 hours, I often wondered what it might be like to run a “normal” 100-miler (as if there is a “normal” 100-miler). When my coach mentioned running a 100-mile race in preparation for this years Tor des Geants, Yuch and I first considered the Ouray 100 in Colorado. With over 40,000 feet of gain in 100 miles, it would be great preparation for the vert we would find in the Italian Alps. Then we found out our friend Garret was going to be running the Tahoe Rim Trail 100 aka TRT and ultimately we decided we’d go for a convenient local 100 with a friend vs. one that would involve more travel and therefore more PTO and more exhaustion.
This year has been all about building towards the Tor from the start. Once I recovered from last year’s Tor (which took at least 3 months, maybe 4), I started the year out running The Big Alta 50k in March. In April I found myself chasing a 10k PR at the IPA 10k. In May, I ran the Miwok 100k in absolutely dreadful weather which consisted of torrential rain, wind, and cold. in June, I ran a sub 6-minute mile at the Marin Mile (which is not that fast, but fast for me), followed by the Dipsea the following week. TRT 100 would be my last (or so I thought) race before the Tor, giving me a chance to get a lot of time on feet, test out my nutrition, and experience running all night. In my naïve mind, TRT would be a “normal” 100-miler, that shouldn’t take nearly as long as Bighorn did.
Please note that if you do decide to do TRT 100, you will be required to do 8 hours of volunteer work specifically involving trail maintenance or construction. This was not easy to find and Yuch and I found ourselves desperate for an opportunity that would not conflict with our already planned out busy summer schedule. We ultimately ended up volunteering with VoCal (Volunteers for Outdoor California) doing a trail re-route in Fernandez Ranch and it was a really fun and rewarding experience. I had hoped there would be more (or any, for that matter) volunteer opportunities in Marin on our backyard trails, but in the end we were happy that we didn’t have to leave the Bay Area for volunteer work.
We drove up to Carson City, NV – where the race starts and ends – on the Friday before the race, which involved taking the day off of work. With bib pick-up ending at 3:30 pm, and the drive to Carson City being around 4 hours (without traffic), there was no way around that. Arriving to the start/finish to pick up our bibs, fear began to creep in. On this totally exposed baseball field in the middle of summer in the heat of the day, I felt like I was inside of an oven. Just standing in line at bib pick-up I already had sweat dripping down my face. The next day was going to be rough. Despite the “mandatory” race briefing being held from 4-5 pm, we decided to hurry back to our air conditioned hotel room and get an early night.
The morning of the race, we located Garret. Although we had ultimately chosen this race largely because he was doing it, he had forgotten and was pleasantly surprised to find that we were indeed running it. Before the 5 am start, the race director announced that we were going to start off with the National Anthem and I think a lot of us were a little surprised to hear a unique rendition of the song being played on the loudspeakers by some unknown but enthusiastic rock band.
I knew the race start was going to be slow, with 4200 ft of gain in the first 9.5 miles. I had come out about a month before the race to do some recon with my friend Jon who was doing the 50-miler. I spent the beginning of the race hiking and catching up with Garret. I was (now) appreciative of the 5 am start during this climb because it had been so hot when I had done it the previous month two hours later. At some point, Yuch caught up with us and he and Garret surpassed me.
Although the sun had now come up, there was decent cloud coverage. Much of the race was spent yo-yoing with Yuch, as is usually the case. I started filling up my ice bandana as early as Spooner Lake (mile 16), and would continue to utilize this cooling method throughout the day. Despite it being overcast, it was still probably in the high 80s at altitude. The running felt pretty easy. My biggest concern going into TRT had been the heat and managing fuel and hydration, so I was really making an effort to prioritize all of these things to avoid blowing up. Racing this early on was nowhere in my mind. I was probably consuming about 300-400 calories an hour, which in retrospect is more than I have usually consumed. A typical hour might include a 250 calorie homemade rice krispie treat + 1-2 soft flasks of Skratch electrolyte drink (70 calories/flask). Everything seemed to be going down quite easy, of course until that inevitable point where it didn’t.
Tunnel Creek Aid Station is an aid station that the course passes by four times, and therefore it was a place where we were able to keep a drop bag where I would most importantly have food (gels, more rice krispie treats, daifuku balls, Skratch electrolyte drink powder) and other supplies. I first arrived at Tunnel Creek at mile 30, then again at mile 46.5 after the first Diamond Peak trip. Yuch and I had been sticking together pretty well to this point, but he was starting to slow down. He told me to go ahead, but I didn’t want to. We had made it this far, and I guess I wanted the company…his company. I began to get sentimental about getting married the following weekend. Did I want to a) worry about my time running this thing, or b) spend time with the person who I was going to marry enjoying beautiful Lake Tahoe? I decided to choose the latter and we travelled to Snow Valley Peak aid station (54.5 miles) together at his pace.
Arriving at Snow Valley Peak, a volunteer noticed Yuch’s weariness and asked him “How are you”? Yuch responded “tired”, to which the volunteer asked “Why?” I was starting to feel tired too, but this small exchange reminded me that it is not only okay, but normal to feel tired when you’re running 100 miles.
After hitting Snow Valley Peak, the course then returns to do another loop back to Diamond Peak, passing by Tunnel Creek Aid Station again at 62.5 miles. I would be picking up my pacer, Marie, at Diamond Peak, mile 74. The race, to me, to this point had not been a 100-mile race, but a 74-mile race. All I had to do was get to Marie and she would “drag” me to the finish. Something changed between mile 54.5 and 62.5. Yuch had some caffeine and was starting to get stronger, while I was now becoming the weaker link. I was starting to feel hot, nauseous, and a slight headache. This in turn made eating less desirable. I noticed I was having to stop to pee every 5-10 minutes, and I wondered if I had a urinary tract infection.
Around the same time, storm clouds started to accumulate. Here I had spent so much time worrying about the heat, and now we were going to get rain. Arriving at Tunnel Creek at mile 62.5, I changed into a long sleeved shirt. It was sprinkling now and with the overcast sky and the sun beginning to set, I was worried about getting cold. Food was looking less and less appealing with my new onset of symptoms. Nothing in my drop bag looked edible, and so I relied on the rice balls dipped in soy sauce from the aid station before heading out.
We now began our second descent to Diamond Peak. The first descent had been fun, but now my legs were not appreciating the accumulated downhill in addition to the fact that I did not feel good at all. Yuch, on the other hand, had a newfound energy, thanks to caffeinated gels. I told him to leave me, but he said he didn’t want to abandon me. I wasn’t sure if he truly didn’t want to, or if he felt the need to “repay” the favor. He decided he would feel more comfortable leaving me after we reached Diamond Peak and Marie.
I arrived to Diamond Peak around 1 am as Marie would later describe “a shell of a human” at mile 74. I could tell she had been waiting a pretty long time for me and I felt bad for what was in store for her. When I told her I hadn’t been eating and was not feeling good, she refused to join my pity party and told me she was going to get me back moving in no time. She immediately took charge, grabbing my soft flasks and refilling them, and fetching me broth with rice and quesadillas. I hated to disappoint Marie, but the truth was I knew it was going to be a very slow 30 mile slog to the finish. The broth tasted horrible and I could barely get a few sips down. The quesadillas too were difficult to eat and I managed just a couple nibbles. After a half cup of coffee and an anti-nausea pill, we finally left Diamond Peak for the final time.
The ascent out of Diamond Peak is STEEP, and I was actually grateful for the walking break. Marie began inundating me with stories while my body and mind reluctantly struggled to divert my attention from how bad I felt. But, I had to hand it to her. She was doing a good job. Physically, I still didn’t feel great, but mentally I was starting to improve. It was nice to have the company. Tunnel Creek was only 5 miles after Diamond Peak, but it was a slow 5 miles. This would be my last time visiting my drop bag. I was surprised to see Yuch there when we arrived. I think he was surprised too. Stunned, he questioned Marie. “What did you do to her??” Nevertheless, he took off, leaving me pondering what I could possibly get down. I ate several Dixie cups worth of broth and noodles which again tasted unbearable, but it was better than nothing. Marie consistently praised me for the small amounts I was able to get down while also encouraging me to take some gels for the road. I did what I was told.
It was another 5 miles to the next aid station, Hobart. Once you get into “slog mode” during an ultramarathon, the task becomes getting from aid station to aid station. You don’t even care about the finish anymore. Peter had told me that I had to take advantage of the Ensure smoothies at the Hobart aid station. If there was a time for me to drink Ensure, the time was now. I was still struggling to get down food, and that was clearly reflective on my ability to move well. The Ensure smoothie was not exactly appealing, but I got it down in addition to some more tiny cups of low-calorie broth. Although I was not necessarily expressing negativity, it was difficult to be optimistic when I was feeling so bad. Marie would not have any part of it and told me to stop playing the victim. I was the one who had signed up for this after all.
At this point I felt really tired. I could really go for a nap, but Marie was in charge now. “Marie, can I just lie down for 10 minutes?” I pleaded. To my surprise, Marie approved, but said she was going to set a timer. I lied myself down on a tarp covering the ground in a little section of the aid station that had been set aside for runners to rest. There were two lounge chairs there, the kind that you could adjust to stretch yourself out completely. The aid station volunteer asked if I would like to rest on one of the chairs, but the idea of getting in and out of the chair seemed way too difficult for me, so I just curled up in a ball on the tarp. I started to shiver with the cold Ensure smoothie entering my belly, and the aid station volunteer covered me with a wool blanket. Perfect. Except, not really. I was completely exhausted, but I was also caffeinated and my body hurt. My dirt nap dream had been crushed. I lied there wide awake, quickly getting colder and colder, and before Marie’s timer went off, I stood up and said “Ok let’s go”.
The volunteers at Hobart told me it was 7 miles to the next aid station. I was able to pick it up a little bit and I soon realized that this was all going to go a lot faster the more time I spent running. I also started to notice I was overall feeling a lot better. I’m not sure which came first, feeling better or starting to eat again. Marie had been consistently pushing Honey Stinger gels on me from the aid stations and she was now ordering me to have one every 20-30 minutes. The more I ate, the more I was able to run. My run to walk ratio was gradually increasing until I had progressed to a full on run. I had officially come back from “The Dead”. This is an extraordinary but real phenomenon that happens during the course of an ultramarathon. Although I had witnessed it happening to Yuch during his 2023 Western States, it is always difficult to imagine that it can happen to you when you are in the deep depths of despair of an ultra.
It was the longest 7 miles of my life to that final aid station, but that’s because in reality it was actually 10 miles. If I had paid attention to my pace chart instead of the volunteer at Hobart, I would have realized that. Arriving to the Waterfall aid station at mile 94, I wondered if I had would have anything left for those final miles. At the Waterfall aid station they were serving up a dairy-free smoothie (not Ensure). For the first time in a long time, something tasted delicious and I graciously accepted multiple servings. The volunteer at this aid station told me I was the third female, which didn’t make any sense to me. I had seen a handful of women in front of me earlier on and had passed no one. He did caveat his statement by saying that the tracking was not exactly perfect, and that he could be wrong. Even so, this gave me some incentive to get off my butt and leave the aid station. Starting to run again was difficult. I had used so much energy getting to the Waterfall aid station, I wasn’t sure how much running I was capable of in this last stretch. I was soon going to learn that we always have more to give than we think we have.
The final 10k to the finish at Carson City is downhill, but it’s also very exposed and hot as you descend to lower elevation with the rising sun. I felt optimistic knowing the finish was near, and was running at a reasonable pace just hoping my legs would get me to the finish line. And then I saw something that I never expected to see; a female runner in the distance. I had not seen any female runners for ages and had assumed all the top female leaders had finished by now. I told Marie, “Marie, you are not going to believe what I just saw”. As soon as I told her, it was game on. I started increasing my pace. I was now running pretty much as fast as I could for singletrack dirt switchbacks at the end of a 100-mile race and Marie was right behind me. Yet, despite how fast we were running, the runner was now nowhere in sight. We passed by several male runners at this time, but still no luck finding her. I told Marie maybe we weren’t going to catch her after all, but she would not take no for an answer.
Marie was convinced we were going to catch her as soon as we got to the fire road. I kept running as fast as I could. We had gone from running 9 minute miles to 8 minute miles, and now were running sub 8 minute miles. Finally, I caught a glimpse of her in the distance. I was shocked that we had not caught up to her yet for how fast we were running. She was either really eager to get to the finish line or she knew she was being chased. I suspected it was the latter although I wasn’t sure how she would have seen us so far behind. Even with her in sight and now picking up the pace, it still did not seem possible. She was moving too well. Again, Marie told me we were going to do it, to just keep pumping my arms and lengthening my stride. I was now running a sub 7 minute mile and didn’t know how long I was going to be able to keep this going. The baseball field was now in sight and she was still ahead. If I hadn’t caught up to her these last 5 miles, there was no way I was going to do it now. Except, Marie was right. Somehow, I was able to tap into some extra gear that I didn’t know I had, and in the last maybe 200 yards, I finally was able to just barely edge past her. Unfortunately, as soon as I passed her I realized that I had used so much energy for that one move that I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to keep it up that last 200 yards to the finish line. But I didn’t look back and before I knew it I had rounded the last corner, and had crossed the finish line on the baseball field.
Despite how close we had been, it took her over 2 minutes more to finally hobble over the finish line, and when she did she basically collapsed into a chair with her crew rushing to her side. Marie and I looked at each other wide eyed. Not only had I nearly killed myself these last 5 miles, apparently we had done a number on her, too. It only made sense for me to say something to her so after giving her a little space, I went over and told her that she did a great job, but that I had to make her work for it, regardless of who finished first.
As it turned out, that aid station volunteer had been wrong, and I had finished fourth female. That didn’t matter to me though, because he had given me hope, just as the female runner in front (well now in back) of me had. My official time was 28:23:08, 23 minutes longer than Bighorn. Yuch had finished 6 minutes ahead of me. Maybe I would have caught up to him if I hadn’t indulged in my dirt nap back at Hobart. The last 28 hours had not gone as I had anticipated, but that’s the essence of ultrarunning. In the end, I was more pleased with my finish than I could have ever imagined because it reflected more than just that race, but all my training to that point.
Meg-A-Miles 