(September, 2019)
Cascade Crest has become the ultimate quest for long distance runners in the Pacific Northwest. Nestled in the Middle Cascade mountains it offers 23,000 feet of climb and a number of special attractions like rope descents, a 2.3 mile tunnel, and a section affectionaly known as “The Trail From Hell”.
I had put in a miserable effort in 2016 and wanted to redeem myself. I had mixed success with the practice runs in early August, writing off my struggles at Thorp Mt to temps in the 80s. I was leaner and way more experienced than my former self.
I began the race much smarter than my earlier attempt, keeping everything slow and easy. It’s tempting to shoot up the first climb but it is a relentless effort and I took my time, rewarded with a popsicle at one aid station and a smoothie at the next. As I began the descent to Tacoma Pass everything was absolutely on track – I clocked in at 6:53 against a target of 7:00. I was fueled and had gone through about 2 liters of fluids. I left with food in hand to make the gradual climb to Stampede Pass.
And then somehow the wheels came off. Quickly. I was slowing and had no energy. I tried taking another gel and began dry heaving it out. I had done this section at least 4 times and yet wasn’t remembering some of the twists and turns. I made it down to Stampede Pass in 10 hours. It was a 2 1/2 hour section and it somehow taken me 3+ hours plus I was out of it. The weather was fine, so no issues there. I tried some soup and more fruit at the aid station. I left to tackle the next two 7 mile sections.
Within an hour things somehow got even worse. It was clearly a fueling problem and I had no interest in eating (or drinking) anything. Night fell and I slowed even more among the trickier technical parts of the section, People were passing me left and right. I eventually landed in Mountain Meadows, encountering Rich White, the Race Director right at the entrance to the station. I grumbled something about “having nothing”, flopped into a chair, and 15 minutes later dropped from the race.
With that as a backdrop, I headed down to Reno, NV to tackle the Tahoe 100k, a smaller “fun run” compared to the 4 day 200 mile race which had started a day earlier. I arrived a day early to get used to the altitude (7,000 feet) and check out the area. I was going to se the race to learn a number of things: (a) what was going on with my fueling, (b) can I sustain a decent pace to someday consider the 200 mile, (c) can I run at this altitude for a sustained period? I would eventually answer all of these questions the following day.
It’s an early morning (3am) start to get to the buses which leave the finish point (Sierra at Tahoe). They took us up to Spooner Creek where we would begin our journey going clockwise around the southeast portion of the lake. We would confront most of the 200 mile runners who had started on the west side of the lake the day before. I had my new Salomon backpack filled with goodies and accessories to help me throughout the day. The sun rose just before we counted down for our 6am start and we were off.
I settled into a nice groove as we began the first climb which would last 5 miles. Again, it was a slow and easy start. We then had a nice 10 mile descent with an aid station at mile 12. The views of Tahoe were amazing as we had a picture perfect blue day. The course here is a sandier trail (I had my gaiters on) with numerous rocks of all sizes and on all sides of the trail, including the middle. I missed one turn and joined a group of others who were trying to determine if we had in fact veered up a trail instead of down another. I took out my phone and checked the Gaia GPS app and sure enough – we were looping back to the first aid station. It was only a 10-15 min mistake and we all took it in stride. The sign had fallen from its original placing which was why we had read it wrong.
At about mile 15 we began a slow but steady climb which would last all the way to mile 31. It was only about 2,000 feet so definitely gradual, but you knew you were heading up. We arrived at Heavenly, the 2nd station at mile 20 where I sat down and had the absolutely best Aid Station soup ever created – big think noodles, salty broth. I had all my needs in the back pack. It was still wonderful outside and there were people all around the station, rooting us on. I headed back out and up, hoping to get to the next stop (15 miles away!) in 4 hours.
It took 5. I had begun feeling the same blocking in my stomach a few hours in (about 7-8 hours into thr race), almost exactly like Cascade Crest. The key to my problem solving was when I tried to down my 5th gel of the day and immediately began dry heaving the small drops, my stomach in full convulsion. It suddenly dawned on me. The combination of all the gels, while providing calories and “kick” to my system, were also blocking other nutrients from doing their thing. I was unable to eat, but kept sipping on my Tailwinds liquids, which somehow revived me. I was mostly walking at the point while also trotting once the trail began moving down about mile 31. I was now in a new, unchartered territory: chasing the aid station time. I needed to be out of the Armstrong Pass station at 4:45. I arrived about 4:37 and was lingering around. Others checked in with the Station Chief and he was not enforcing the cutoff time, mostly because they had no way to get runners out of the Pass and back to where they needed to be – it was in a very remote area. Remember also that we were sharing the station with numerous 200 mile runners, who had special needs. So I left the station about 4:50 and after puking out the ginger ale that I had downed (that’s a first), I began the 10 mile trek to the next station.
We started by going up 3-4 miles. I actually was in a very good space here mentally, still enjoying the day and the vistas. It’s a very open space, with some amazing trees off the trails. People were passing me by as they rushed to get to the next station . I had already made the decision that I was not going to chase it down. We had 3 hours, but because I was walking it was slow going. At some point it turned dark and while trail bent down for some possible sprints, I took my time, trying not to fall on the many rocks blocking the path. Eventually a woman tracked me down and said she had left her headlamp at the last staion. While I wrestled my spare out of the pack, she took off. OK. I’m pretty sure there was no one else behind me at this point, so I was officially in last place. It took me 4 hours to do these 10 “easy” miles – a rate of 2.5 mph. We arrived at the station at 8:45, over an hour after the cutoff time. In this situation, the station was pretty much all packed up and they were trying to account for the last few runners coming through. We were officially pulled from the race and had to figure out our own way out. [Bad form :-(].
But I was pretty happy. I could have tackled the course harder and gone faster. But then I would not have enjoyed it nearly as much. I was pretty sure I had figured out the problem with my fueling. I did not have problems with the altitude, although could definitely feel it when we reached 9,600 feet at the high point. And finally, the last 10 miles convinced me I could go for a sustained period, even on low fuel, at a reasonably decent clip. The 200 mile race gives you 100 hours to finish = 2 mph. I had just run 45 miles in less than 15 hours. Sure, you can’t just extrapolate it out because on tops of all the energy management you also have to figure out sleep management (and as it turns out, it snowed on them on the 4th day this year). So, definitely not ready to tackle this yet, but somewhat encouraged by the results.
So, a DNF where I lacked proper eating, did not take enough electrolytes (Tailwind) and quit rather than tough it out to get me into the easier section was a poor result. I will try CC again as I know now what not to do. But a DNF where I simply was not going fast enough to accommodate the somewhat capricious cutoff times AND learned quite a few things along the way while keeping my head up to witness the beauty of the day was an OK result. At least that’s my rationalization of the outcomes.
The Commentaries of Shawn Aebi 