Tell me about it. Back in 2011 I would have never thought I'd enjoy, let alone run, a 100 mile race. But here I am, writing my first race report ever. Why? I guess I'm looking for new experiences. After running my first race ever in 2012 (San Francisco Marathon) as well as my first 50K, then my first 50 mile races in 2013, I could have let 2014 go as the year I ran my first 100k (Miwok). But hey, why not? Time to experience something new, running for a really long time, including overnight. I looked at the calendar of upcoming 100 mile races and Javelina seemed perfect. Very popular, fun, not too extreme, except it's in the desert and can get very hot, but after all I'm from Calabria. Well, I've been spoiled with perfect Northern California weather in the last 18 years, but it's still in my blood. So there I was, committing by paying the admission fee, booking flights and hotel. The Trip to the Arizona Desert The lucky thing is that I'm not the only crazy person out there. I found company: two runners from my Coastside Running Club had enrolled too, Bryan Bodas and Franz Dill. We were on the same outbound flight to Phoenix, and I had offered to share my one bedroom premium at the Sheraton Desert Oasis, a short 30 min drive from the race. So we land, pick up the rental car and decide to drive to pick up our bib right away, rather than doing it just before the race by stopping by the We-Ko-Pa Resort in Fountain Hills. You definitely don't want anything that stresses you out on race day. Everything has to be nice, easy, and planned. The line at the pickup when we get there around 3pm is huge! Apparently we're not the only ones that had that same thought. Will it be a prelude of a crowded race, where aid stations are crowded, sharing the trail with a bunch of runzillas? (It won't be at all). We line up. Franz knows lots of people there, and starts chatting with everyone, swapping stories. After getting our bib (mine was number 442) we go to the Sheraton Desert Oasis resort, and take possession of our pad. It is nice to have space to lay down all our stuff. No time to explore all the amenities, the pool, and whatever else comes with the resort. We decide to eat Italian (didn't really have to push for it) and drive to Maggiano's where we are served more carbs than we could possibly eat. You have to see it to believe it. We are hungry, we need to carboload, but flatbread plus caesar salad plus a family-style pasta entree each is too much. And we also all order a draft beer. Back to our villa, we prepare everything we need for the morning after. I stuff two drop bags. The first drop bags includes anything I could possibly need: light shirts for the day, long sleeve shirts for the night; selected food in case I couldn't stomach what the aid stations would be offering. including these Vega gels. Topricin for my feet and A&D for other high friction body parts. An iphone with music. Auxiliary chargers to supply power once my main phone that I would use to track the race (Samsung S5) with Strava gets low on battery. And more stuff. The second drop bags has just two pairs of shoes and socks. You may wonder why on earth I need three pairs. I know by experience that my feet will start hurting, and that I would have needed my Hoka Stinsons. In fact, two pairs of them, a well tested pair of Stinson Trail with over 400mi and 3 races on them, and a virtually brand new pair of Stinson ATR, the newer, slightly lighter model. I decide I'm going to start the race on Hoka Huakas, much lighter yet with cushioning and trail-worthy (review: http://youtu.be/d9oMCZmOtYI). Pre-race Sleeping the night before a race is though for me. It's not uncommon for me to sleep less than an hour or even zero before a race. I now know that doesn't mean I'm going to do badly, yet I really hope each time will be better than the last. Note to self: alcohol doesn't help: I was sweating precious liquid that would have been nice to retain before running, especially this time, with a race that could potentially last longer than double anything I had ever run before. If fact, I expected ... well, I was in completely uncharted territory, I didn't know what my body would do after a prolonged effort like that. At that point the dream was to finish under 24 hours, but anything under the 30-hour cutoff was going to mean victory. Wake up! The alarm rings at 3:30am. I know I had fallen asleep well after midnight, but I had slept, and I wasn't going to stress about waking up in the middle. A quick shower, two run-a-ritas for breakfast, little coffee and half a banana. I put on my selected gear. My picks: very breathable shirt, since even at 5am it won't be cold today; gaiters: those orange covers on top of shoes, to prevent dust and stones to get in my shoes - they add weight but I don't want to run tens of hours with blisters; Ultimate Direction AK running vest with two soft 500ml water bottles, and space in the back for phone and emergency food and stuff that I'll likely never use. We jump in the car, drive to the McDowell Mountain Regional Park, and wait in line to board the shuttle to the race Start/Finish. It's dark, hundreds of people milling around. Race! The course is made of a 15.2 mile loop that runners run "washing machine style", meaning 1st loop clockwise, 2nd counterclockwise, up to the sixth, plus a final shorter loop clockwise (including the green 2.7 shortcut). While this may seem boring, there is nothing repetitive about it. I had picked this as my first 100 mile race because it's better to be familiar with the course when you're tired. Your brain becomes mush, you're afraid you're lost, you actually get lost ... Hell, I don't want all that drama during my first 100mi, I'll finish one, then I'll add more drama! As you'll see the loops were a big part in my mental approach to finishing the race. In fact, I'm going to break the race apart in ... loops! Loops 1 and 2! Bryan and Franz had decided to run together. Franz is at another level than we are, but this is his first major race this year after his ankle surgery and recovery and eye issues, and he knows how important is this race for Bryan, who has a bunch of Western States chances that can't go to waste. I decide to run with them, enjoy their company, let a few hours go by, then we'll see. I soak in Franz's experience, "never go in the red zone during a 100mi" kind of advice. Running with Franz also means hearing all the conversations he has with other runners he knows. All those guys that ran the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning. I strike conversation with other runners, we are all there for the experience, we share it, meanwhile we clock some relatively fast miles. OK, not as fast as the front runners, the guys that got to the end of the loop, turned around, and met us while we were 5 miles away from the end of our loop 1 ... We cheer them, they're amazing. I root for the Tarahumara runners that came all the way from Mexico's Copper Canyon to show us running grace. Meanwhile, the three amigos (Francisco, Braian e Cesar) make it back at Javelina Jedquarters aid station - the Start/Finish - at the end of loop 1 in 2:59! Franz lays out the strategy to finish under 24 hours: 3.5 hours for each of the 6 big loops, 2 hours for the last loop, plus one hour buffer, when things slow down. We just added 30 min to the buffer. We start loop 2, retrace our steps, rediscover the same hills, just now are reversed, don't look the same, not boring. We see the desert in its splendor, the impressive giant cacti, there is no plant that is inviting to the touch, everything has to be harsh to survive, or become nutrition and hydration for hungry and thirsty animals. Talking about nutrition, during this race I eat fruit and gels at each aid station, and avoid everything else, no cereal bars, no PB&J. I feel slightly bloated, and it's bothering me. Our stops to aid stations extend longer longer, and the longer we stop the more I eat. I also keep on having to go pee. Why am I shedding even more water after last night? Franz tells me that it could be that my body doesn't have enough salt and it's trying to rebalance by shedding water. He hands me a salt tab. Boy am I glad there is Franz around. From that point on I'll swallow a salt tab every other aid station. Salt helps prevent cramps too. Less than one mile from the end of loop 2 I see a porta-potty, I spend 5 minutes inside, get out, start running again to catch up with Bryan and Franz, just to see after a few hundred feet Franz on the trail, and Bryan heaving under some trees. I know that Bryan had a bad day at TRT100, I hope it's not going to be the same. They tell me that I should go, it's my first 100 race, do my best. I leave them knowing that I'll see them again and again. I finish loop 2 in 3:40. Ten minutes buffer are gone, but I feel good. Loops 3 and 4! I start my solitary loop 3, believe it or not it's almost 1pm, 7 hours of running, long way to go. Mentally I adjust to the idea that after loops 3-4 there will be 5-6, and then the shorter loop 7, and I'm done. I wear my white North Face Badwater Redux hat, more for its sun cape that protects my neck than for anything else. Actually, I hold the hat in my hands most of the time, and at some aid stations I pour iced water inside and put it on. It doesn't feel that hot, not as hot as yesterday, and sometimes we even get cloud coverage! Unbelievable! This is a great day for running here, no 90s today. I keep on eating bananas, potatoes (with salt), melon, some aid stations have added avocado - fat is my friend today. At the end of loop 3 my feet hurt, time to put on my Stinson Trail, and with the occasion change my socks and spread Topricin on my feet. I complete loop 3 in 3:32. On schedule. At this point in the race I'm 230th out of 521 starters. Middle of the pack. It's past 4pm and I ask the volunteers what time is the sunset. They tell me 5:37. I'll need my headlight back on for loop 4. Before the sun goes down I see a tarantula. Yeah, it's huge, you can't miss it, and you don't want to mess with it. Although I feel like petting those soft hair ... but I have a race to finish. My mind is racing, thinking that at the end of loop 4 I only have 5-6 and then 7. I get to the Jackass aid station, almost mid-point of each loop, and it's dark, music is blasting, they've been awesome the whole day. I love their energy, I stop long enough to eat, grab a gel or two, thank them for the awesome job, I'm out. The end of this loop will be critical to make sure I have a chance to finish under 24hr. I complete loop 4 in 3:47. It's 7:59pm. Loops 5 and 6! The math is simple, even for someone that has been running 14 hours, and at this point well into uncharted territory (my longest run at that point having been 13:01): I have 10 hours left to stay under 24hr. Loops 5 and 6 can take 4 hours each, with 2 hours left for loop 7. That's if loop 7 takes 2 hours, however I now know that the first 6 miles of loop 7 are all uphill, and in some points steep and rocky, hence not runnable. How much of those 6 miles I'll be able to run at that point? I start loop 5 with a slice of veggie pizza in my hands, I enjoy most of it. I run loop 5, and realize that I need to do another round of Topricin, and soothing gel for my feet. Meanwhile, it's dark, and the desert show is on! I hear singing, but there is no aid station, it's coyotes, some singing on my right, and others answering miles away on my left. They are communicating, no doubt about it. But what are they saying? (right) "Who who who who who are the-the-these peopleeeeee" (left) "I I I I IIII remember something like this 8 -coyote- years agooooo". It's wonderful, I'm not afraid, I just want to pet them! Also, far away on another galaxy there are thunderstorms. I see lightning, but I hear no thunder. I don't need rain right now, but enjoy the show. I reach the end of the loop, stop and lather my feet in Topricin, can't find the soothing gel, but I see some big Ibuprofen pills. I have never taken "vitamin I" during a race, but I try to swallow two of them. Damn they're huge. I bite into them. I finish loop 5 in 3:59. I start loop 6 waiting to the Ibuprofen to kick in. I have my very thin AR50 Patagonia jacket on, I keep it open because I'm sweating lightly, maybe the Ibuprofen? Also, the headlight attached to by belt rather than a headband has been bouncing, which is still OK, but now it's dimming a lot. Wasn't it guaranteed for 28 hr at high intensity? Luckily at Rattlesnake Ranch Aid I find some good souls that give me 3 AAA batteries. Thank you strangers! In the middle of nowhere I hear in the dark, maybe 10 feet from me, a ... cow moo? What would a cow do here? Maybe it's the mythical Collared Peccary or Javelina! I'm not going to check what animal is mooing, it's pitch dark, and no, I don't want to pet it. I'm building a buffer here. I keep on eating fruits and gels. I thought that at some point I planned on adding proteins, but it's been working thus far, I don't want to screw it. I get at the end of loop 6 and I see the clock: 11:36:xx! I've run this loop in 3:37. As I pass under the Start/Finish clock I even do a little fist pumping. As I leave the area I also see Bryan and Franz, they are likely starting loop 6 now, hence 15.2mi or 4 hours behind, makes me happy thinking that Bryan is still moving like a train and he'll likely finish. Loop 7 & Finish! I have my buffer, 24 minutes on top of the 2 hours Franz checked as average for those completing under 24 hr. I'm told this loop is 10 miles, which means I have to run at 14min/mi. That's fast, but maybe it's not quite 10 miles. There is only one issue: I need to go #2 again. Gels have caught up with me. Can I hold until the Coyote Camp Aid station? I look around, I get off course following a sand river, my light is dim again, luckily I see the lights of some runners I had just passed, run back, and pass them again. I run up the hill, get to the aid station, see the sign: Tonto shortcut: 3.6 miles. Uphill, rocky too. I have to stop to the porta-potty, I see my 24 min buffer shrinking between the rambling around and this pit stop. I start again, and start my Garmin watch so I can track the distance remaining. However, I feel that looking at the watch in these conditions it's not going to help: you run for what seems a long time, then look at the watch and discover that only 0.3mi have gone by?!? I now give up on running all the time, and I resign to the fact that I may not make it, it all depends on when I reach the Tonto trail connector, that I have seen 6 times in my past 6 long loops. I look at the time, and figure that if I get there with 40 min to spare and I run really fast the last 3.7mi I can do the impossible. I really don't know when I'm going to hit the green light right turn, and I don't want to know, just run and walk fast, save some energy for the final sprint. Suddenly I see it: I have more than 1 hour left, I think I'm going to make it! At the Tonto Tavern Checkpoint the lady asks me if I want water. I answer no, and I ask her how long to the finish, she tells me "3.7 miles, 3 downhill". I blast down a well packed dirt road, my dim light is enough here, and I get down into my marathon running style, almost on my toes, body slightly bent forward. I know I'm not as fast as I am on any of my weekly runs. Still, I run mile 99 in 10:31, and mile 100 is my fastest mile of the entire race: 10:16. I slow down a bit as the road turns and becomes less easy to follow, I reach the intersection with the Pemberton trail, turn left. I'm 0.7 to the finish and I can even afford to walk on the sandy uphill portions, saving some energy for the final effortless-looking sprint (yeah, right!). People still cheer and clap this late, love it, cross the line super happy, I'm handed the big belt buckle, I ask anyways if it's for the sub-24, I savor the obvious yet sweet sound of "yes". I have done it, and I don't think I'll get many of these, but I have this one. I have completed loop 7 in 2:09, official finish time of 23:45:17, and 90th overall. Bryan and Franz! I sit down on a chair right after the finish, with a hunk of precious metal in my hands. I should stretch, but I don't feel like it. While I sit there I realize that the two pills I've taken were not Ibuprofen but Chondroitin-Glucosamine, good for joints at least. A good soul hands me some hot noodles. I wish they had some burgers, even better some bean/veggie burgers. I swallow pieces of sub sandwiches, I need all the proteins I can stomach. I expect Bryan and Franz to arrive in 4 hours or so, and I'm cold. I decide to make it to the shuttle and get back to the car. I turn on the engine to warm it up just enough, then sleep 10 minutes or so. Refreshed, I get some clean and dry clothes. I take the shuttle back, shower, put on jeans and my warm NF jacket just as the sun is emerging from the morning clouds. Time for my commemorative picture, bib and buckle in my hands! After eating some more aid station food I decide to wait for Franz and Bryan before I order a nice pizza from Freak Brothers, their oven looks awesome. And here are my friends, strong, running like crazy, floating thru the air, wow! Time to take some more pictures, we're all happy, it's been a great day. What's Next?
It's been a great ride, my body has surprised me. I threw at it 10 additional hard hours on top of any other run I had ever done before. Here's all the gory details on Strava: http://www.strava.com/activities/214652064 I really wanted to approach my limit and start hallucinating but I guess I'll have to push some more to get there. Can you believe Angeles Crest 100 2015 is already full and the lottery for HURT 100 2015 is done? Next year I'll try getting into Western States or Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc. I won't stop. Until I'll start asking myself: "why did I get myself into this?", "is there life after the end?", and "why are those rocks moving towards me and mutating into little people?".
11 Comments
Carmela
11/9/2014 02:22:11 pm
Bravo! You are an extraordinary guy! I really think you had a lot of fun in running and running in the beautiful land of Arizona!
Reply
Cesare
11/10/2014 03:48:23 am
Thanks! Talking about extraordinary, my sister is the real runner in the family. And our father is the strongest, most determined of us all!
Reply
Carmelo
11/10/2014 05:25:47 pm
Cesare! You are still searching for your limit, and I suspect this search will end to the podium, next time!
Reply
Cesare
11/11/2014 12:03:13 pm
Carmelo, podium is far and getting more away from me. And thanks for following my adventure. It's never too late to start!
Reply
11/11/2014 01:16:34 am
Congratulations, Cesare! Thanks for the good race report.
Reply
Cesare
11/11/2014 12:09:57 pm
Ron, two lights or a brighter light? Both would have been better that one light. I wanted to have a 3D lighting, and two lights, one on my head and one on my belt, would have helped! With 2 lights I could have also switched one off and kept the other on. However also a brighter light, say 250 lumens, with a long life battery would have been better. Lessons learned!
Reply
Cesare
11/13/2014 03:34:06 am
Last time I saw my father back in July I asked him if I should get myself into such an ordeal. Although he was very sick and barely able to speak, he looked at me deeply in my eyes and told me: "Fallo!", "Do it!". He passed away in September, and I never had an opportunity to go back to him and tell him "L'ho fatto!", "I did it!", however I felt he was there with me, especially in those moments in the night desert. His determination, the same he instilled in us sons and daughter, will always be with us.
Reply
Massimo & mamma
11/14/2014 08:24:36 pm
Congrats! Congratulazioni! Bravo! Massimo
Reply
Ultan O'Broin
11/18/2014 07:58:12 am
Awesome, totally gobsmacking performance. A very, very well done and congrats. I can only but dream. And train harder I suppose. I'd love to read more stories like this, particularly about the technical aspects of this kind of execution, including nutrition.
Reply
Cesare
11/18/2014 11:53:58 am
@Ultan thanks! Any questions around nutrition, let me know. Let's meet when you are in the Bay Area!
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
Cesare RotundoMaking the Cloud rain. Ultrarunner. Always looking for a better future for me and my loved ones. ArchivesCategories |