Tales from The 30th Annual Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run

Bad Photos Before Race Day

  Race Report: The 30^th Annual Angeles Crest 100

 The sun had just come up on day two of the 30^th Running of the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run and I was sitting on Dead Man’s Bench at mile 80 with soon-to-be 4 time AC finisher John Vanderpot.  I asked John if he had seen Jussi down at Chantry Flats, the aid station that was 3,000 feet and 5 miles below us. There are countless tales from the Angeles Crest 100, but Jussi Hamalainen's is perhaps the most amazing: he ran the inaugural Angeles Crest back in 1986 when he was 40, and and he kept coming back for the next 30 years. Sixteen of his runs are sub-24 (his last sub 24 was at age 60), and he has run sub-20 twice. In 2014, my first AC, Jussi notched his 27th finish, going over 30 hours for the first time ever. It appeared that Time could slow, but not stop Jussi from reaching 30 finishes. But then in 2015, the unthinkable happened when Jussi fell and was forced to end his race at Millard, the final aid station at mile 95. Jussi returned for the 2016 AC  and walked it in hunched over, stopping repeatedly to retch onto West Palm Avenue. Vanderpot was at his side for that finish. Up on dead man's bench, John told me he had seen Jussi arrive at Chantry Flats, but he didn’t know when or if he had left the aid station. Lots of runners drop at Chantry Flats, but it was hard to imagine Jussi dropping anywhere. I imagined him stoically climbing Upper Winter Creek en route to finish 29.

  My own cushion against the cut offs had continued to shrink and I was worried. John was calm, in his element. He would go on for his fourth consecutive finish, all accomplished using what he calls “finisher’s pace.”  John told me that his three AC finishes were between 32:21 and 32:29 and I asked him how we were doing and he replied “if you leave Sam Merrill by 10:15, you’ll finish the race.” He also mentioned that he usually leaves the bench by 6:00am. My watch read 6:23. This got me up off the bench, and I asked one more question as I headed up the ridge before the long downhill to the next aid station: What time to we need to be in Idlehour?

  “I don’t know, I never pay attention to time at Idlehour.”

  On Friday morning, Ken, Jeremy, Darrell and I rolled into Wrightwood, put our drop bags in the correct piles, and went to the Evergreen café to eat: I had the same dish I ate in 2014 before the race: potatoes and 3 eggs sunny side up. After breakfast we went to where we would be sleeping at Mark and Mary Ann’s house. Mark and Mary had three young girls between the ages of 3 and 6 running around, which provided a beautiful contrast to four nervous dudes unable to think or talk about much else besides a race which had been on our calendars for 365 days. The girls showed me their rabbit, their current hamster, and we visited the grave of their dead hamster in the far corner of their backyard.

The four dudes:

Ken: For Ken, it was his first 100 mile race. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, as he is a tall string bean, but he used to be a big dude. Now he was an ultrarunner being coached by Angeles Crest Legend, Tommy Nielsen. He seemed to be nervously harboring some doubts: not unreasonable considering that AC routinely spits out about 50% of those that start the race. He had finished a 50k (2016 Mt. Disappointment and a 50 mile, the 2016 Sean O Brien). That was it.

Darrell: Jeremy told me that Darrell was the fastest of the bunch, but he had gone out to Leadville last year for his first 100 mile attempt and ran himself into a hole chasing the 25 hour buckle. He was here to run smart, finish, and get that DNF monkey off his back.

Jeremy: Jeremy was a sub-three hour marathoner who I cajoled into running the 2013 Ray Miller 50k which was scheduled the day before he had signed up to race the Surf-City Marathon. He finished Ray Miller an hour in front of me on half-marathon training, and he’s only gotten faster since. (We both stumbled through the Surf-City Half for respective slowest half marathon ever the following morning--not a recommended double.) His first AC yielded him a First Sunrise buckle, and he had gone out to Leadville in 2016 and was on sub-25 pace most of the day until his legs failed him and he finished in just over 25. He was here at the 30^th running of Angeles Crest to run sub 24 and had done the training to do it.

Me: In 2014 I had run the AC 100 as my first 100. It had gone beautifully, and despite the sleep monster visiting me on the climb up to Dead Man’s Bench on Winter Creek, I had a magical run between Chilao and Chantry, and managed to finish strong after Sam Merrill. 30:55. The dream for 2017 was sub-30 but I really just wanted a finish that was not too close to the cut offs. My only other 100 miler had been the 2015 Bighorn, which had just about done me in. I walked every step of the last five miles to finish in 33:10. At the finish I wrapped myself up in the finisher’s blanket and fell asleep. When I woke up I was filled with doubts about my ability to run 100 miles and I began to wonder if my 2014 AC finish had been a fluke.

Heading down from Baden Powell thinking a pack wouldn't be such a horrible idea      Photo: please let me know so I can give credit....

  As I headed up the “Hal Winton Bypass” above the bench, I came across Naomi Ruiz. I had briefly been introduced to Naomi 25 hours earlier, and like most AC runners, I knew her story from 2016: she had fought the cut offs all day and finished the race, but her finish was not official as she had crossed the line 12 minutes after the 33:00 hour limit. She was back this year to get it done.

  She first passed me on the long moonlit downhill after Red Box. My legs were no longer cooperating on the downhills and I was shuffling down with my headlamp off to preserve my light when I needed it (left my only extra batteries back at Shortcut). She looked fantastic and strong at that point, which was a complete contrast to what I saw now: She was stumbling up the hill and her eyes looked vacant. I tried to encourage her that we had time and just needed to get down into Idlehour and then up to Sam Merril before 10:15. She responded something unintelligible that did not inspire hope. Had she given up? Was the finish that everyone wanted to see just a dream? As Larry Gassan might have said about Naomi’s dream, or Jussi’s dream, or anyone's AC dream—The Angeles Crest 100 just doesn’t care.

  In addition to not caring, the AC course doesn’t relent: many consider Chantry Flats, the 75 mile point to be the “halfway mark.” The final 25 miles contains two of the toughest climbs on the course, and, for those at the back of the pack who will be out there a second day: more heat for the final 11 or so miles and no significant shade or cover.

  And speak of the devil, there was Larry up on the ridge, a huge camo back pack filled with lights and camera gear, walking slowly up to where he left his car on top of Mt. Wilson. Larry first ran AC  back in early 90's, including a sub-24 in '96. Up until 2015 he took black and white photos at the finish line, but then had a falling out with the Race Director and was asked to take his wares elsewhere. And so he now takes photos all night at Dead Man’s Bench. Sadly, I arrived after sunrise, so missed my photo. But of course, AC doesn’t care, so I ignored my uncooperative quad muscles and mustered some sort of run down into Idlehour.

  Vanderpot had arrived ahead of me, and he had taken off his jacket, and as I ran somewhat foolishly panicked through the aid station (I was worried about that 10:15 deadline), he commented “now this is an aid station!”  I didn’t feel like I had the extra time to enjoy the ambience of Idlehour, so I filled up with coca-cola in one bottle and water in the other and prepared for the last long climb up to Sam Merrill. The day was beginning to heat up.

Prophetic Coffee Mug at My Sister's the day before the race...

  On the climb up to Sam Merrill I caught up with Ken and his pacer and for a while we travelled together, but they slowly pulled away. When I finally arrived at the aid station there was no thought of just grabbing a coke and heading out as planned. I was hot and needed to sit down and regroup for the final push. The aid station still had ice, which seemed a small miracle. The final ten miles were all downhill and I struggled diligently to pretend I had legs to run. That mostly worked. Heading into Millard, Vanderpot caught up with me again, and we ran into the final aid station together. He sat down and began to chat with the volunteers and I kept moving. The final descent through El Prieto went surprisingly fast, and then I was on the pavement for the final miles. I looked at my watch and realized if I didn’t get lazy and walk I’d finish in just under 32 hours. And so I had a new goal and finished decently, relieved that my body was not a wreck as I knew that I would be flying in 10 hours and then heading directly to work.

  I saw John finish, coming in earlier than his scheduled 32:21-32:29. I started to drift off and then was woken by loud cheers and applause: Naomi Ruiz had rallied and was coming in for her finish that was a year in the making. Most of the crowd was on their feet.
 Ken had finished about 15 minutes before I did, and Darrell came in solid at 27:47. Jeremy missed the 24 hour buckle ( he remains two for two for the Second Sunrise buckle) with a 24:44 but still finished 13th overall, which gives some indication of the difficulty of this course. 

Happy to be done, trying not to think about flying.              Photo: Meggin

  Neither Ken, Jeremy, Darrell or I signed up for the lottery for the 2018 race. 

   Vanderpot will be there of course. Naomi was quoted as saying “two years is enough.” Jussi is a question mark. Word on the street is that when he turned in his bib at Chantry Flats he was saying a final goodbye to the Angeles Crest 100.

  But as every 100 miler knows, all of those clearly uttered “never agains” are rarely heeded. 

  Despite its status as one of the original six 100 mile races in the U.S.A., the Angeles Crest has long flown under the national radar. That may change in 2018 as Jim Walmsely is on the list of starters. Will he make the start line? Who can predict, but if he does, one can only imagine that he will be chasing one of ultrarunning’s oldest records: Jim O’brien’s 17:35 set in 1989 (on a cool day in September on a significantly different course). Most would argue that the course has changed enough to make the comparison  between 1989 and 2018 meaningless, and whether the 2018 course will be faster or slower than the original route that finished at the Rose Bowl is a question best answered by Dominic Grossman, a two time champ and six time finisher of the race (third this year) who lives on the course as it heads into the first climb.

  Larry is right, of course: AC doesn’t care. But fortunately many people do care deeply about this race, and for them, whether or not Jim makes it to the start in 2018 –and briefly thrusts the race into the spotlight-- is unimportant. Because of the work of the volunteers, the race organizers and the many folks who have made the race an important part of their lives, the AC 100 will continue to make and break dreams both big and small.

 

  Only a fool would make AC predictions a year in advance, but I feel confident with this one: John Vanderpot will finish the 2018 AC 100 under 32:29 for his 5th consecutive finish.

 

 While we were heading down into Millard at mile 95, John told me he’s going to run five and then call it a day for the Angeles Crest 100.

  I don’t believe that. He’ll be back for more, and, I hope, so will I.

The Path to the Angeles Crest 100 Mile part I: Sean O' Brien 50 Miler: Race Report

Staying warm before the race.



But most of the day was like this...

Why blog? I'm not sure. I guess it's nice to have something to look back on, and of course my grandmother is a regular reader so that provides some incentive.
  I've fallen off the blogging horse since my last report from my DNF (did not finish) in Oaxaca. I have run a few races since then, but nothing spectacular: I ran a solid 20k at the Picacho race, a local favorite because it is point to point through the local mountains and very technical. I then ran the Mexico City half marathon and then, a month later, nearly froze to death during the Rover Marathon. The race was run in worst rains Mexico has experienced in a generation. I was cold, I got lost, I started running back to an aid station at one point to quit, frustrated to discover the course wasn't marked after being lost for an hour, but then I ran into Chespiro, who knows all these courses and he showed me the way. So I turned around and slogged in for a 6:30 finish, over an hour longer than my time the previous year, and at least 90 minutes over my goal time. Still, I was glad to get the finish.
  There was a lesson there. Don't drink the "DNF's are ok" kool aid. DNF's are horrible and I also suspect they are habit forming. Some folks see no point in "hiking it in." I disagree. Barring the risk of grave bodily harm, it's always best to just get it done.
  
  I still think about that damn DNF in Oaxaca.

  And then I signed up for the Angeles Crest 100 which will take place on August 2 and 3 in 2014. That run will be the culmination of three solid years of running on trails. But to prepare for that race I needed some 50 mile races to get ready. Last year in February I had a fantastic time starting off the new year racing my first trail 50k at the Ray Miller 50, so I thought I would return this year and do the 50 mile race. It's also a great chance to visit with my sister, Meggin and her family.
  Fortunately, my brother-in-law Jeremy Hardy would be joining me to run his first 50 mile race. We made the foolish mistake last year of running the Surf City Half Marathon the day after the 50k. Lesson learned: run the trail run and then relax on Sunday.
  The training leading up to Sean O' Brien was mixed. I lost a week because of a pulled muscle in my back, and then after Christmas I lost two weeks to illness. I was worried; I was very close to texting Jeremy and saying: "hey dude, sorry but I've got to drop down to the 50k." I rationalized all kinds of reasons why it would be better to drop down and race the 50k.

I feared failure.

  But then I remembered that on August 2 I will run 50 miles and still have 50 miles more to go. At that point it's basically mental. Hell, most training programs for 100 and 50 miles are nearly identical. Most of us don't have bodies that can tolerate 150-200 miles per week of training. And even if I do have that kind of body, I don't have the time.
  So my plan was to show up to the Sean O' Brien 50 and race smart and see how my body responded. I had gotten in a few long back to back weekends (5 hours on Saturday, 5 hours on Sunday) in the months before the race, and that would have to be enough.

 Or so I had hoped. Jeremy and I woke early and my day almost ended with my first step at 3:00am in the morning. Instead of walking to the bathroom I stepped down the stairs in the pitch black. Caught myself on the railing. Time to wake up.

 I ate a big (for pre-race) breakfast: two pieces of toast, an egg. We drove the 40 minute drive to the race and were shocked by the cold: 28F. We checked our drop bags and then we sat in the car with the heat on until 10 minutes before the race.

Sunrise

  After a couple flat miles, the race climbs to the 6.5 mile aid station. I took it at a very easy hike, reminding myself to eat and drink at least one bottle (20oz) before the aid station. I was feeling great, and after this station I ran a few miles with Steve Harvey, a guy who has being doing this for 30 years and puts on a number of races in the SoCal area. I even got to pick his brain a bit about the AC 100 (he ran it in 1986, the inaugural year).

Buenas Vistas (all day long)

 "You know were most people lose it on the AC? On the first climb up Acorn trail." 

At the 18 mile aid station I stopped for some potatoes and refills, and Steve was gone down the long descent to Zuma beach, but I had learned a few good tips and also some interesting anecdotes about the early years of ultrarunning.

  I arrived down at Zuma beach at 5:05, just about an hour ahead of the cut off, so I was no longer worried about that. However, the crux of the course was ahead: two long climbs that were exposed to the sun. Note for next year: this is at minimum a two bottle section unless you are a front runner.

Refueling at Zuma beach aid station

  I climbed well here and was sort of dreading the bonk, as usually it comes somewhere around the 50k mark, but I had been fueling well and drinking well all day, and climbing strong.

 If I had to make a complaint about the course it would be this: too many miles of fire road for my taste (though the views of the Pacific were spectacular), so it was a relief to get back on the Backbone trail, rolling single track that was fun to run. It was late in the day, but I was still feeling strong. I was struggling with downhills. My knee caps were killing me on the downs and I found myself walking at some points just to avoid the pain.

Always a good reminder on long climbs...

  However, I began pushing harder as the sun dropped lower in the sky. When I reached the final aid station at mile 44, I thought perhaps I could make it in 12 hours so I started to push as hard as a I could. It soon became clear that 12 hours wasn't going to happen, but I was catching people at this point in the race and that kept me motivated. In the final miles of the race it was dark and I had a few moments of doubt about the trail, but my memory from the morning served me well (the race was out and back with a loop at the end) and I crossed the finish line moving well, a great contrast to my first 50 mile race in Jemez where I couldn't even muster a jog at the finish and sprawled out on the grass unable to move for some time.

A short bit of video on the final descent.

  Here's a real video of the race:

 Jeremy was there and he had run a great race, going under ten hours.

 I finished in 12:17.

 I buried that DNF from back in July somewhere on the climb out of Zuma Beach.

 I also learned something about fitness here, as my weeks off didn't seem to have much of an effect. I fueled well and started slow and it paid off in the end. Also, while I don't think this course is comparable to Jemez, it was far from easy and I had a 3 hour and 16 minute PR. Can't feel too bad about that.

  Could I have started off stronger earlier in the race and still had the strong finish?

  I guess that's what keeps the game interesting.

Recovery Beverages for Sunday

the details:

ran with one bottle until mile 13 where I picked up my second. This worked well, though probably could have gotten away with one bottle until Zuma beach. Two from Zuma beach is a must for anyone but the front of the pack.

I ran with my Jurek Essential which worked well. I could have carried all my GU's in my bottle holders but much easier access with the belt. I should have brought a ziploc to stash potatoes.

Cascadia 7's and Balega socks. Sad this is my last pair of 7's. I'll try and save them for Zane Grey in April.

  Be wary of depending on aid station gels. I arrived at one and they only had strawberry, which I detest. However, the aid stations here are like buffets at a five star hotel. They have everything. But if you gotta have vanilla Gu, best to bring it with you...

Next  up:

 The big race coming up is the Zane Grey 50. Looking forward to meeting my sister Allison and Jeremy out in Arizona.

March 7: 14k in Tepoztlan
March 29: Carrera de Resistencia 66k. This will be a good long training run for Zane Grey.
April 6: 21k (road) in Veracruz as a member of Team Feel the Magic. Hoping for a half marathon PR here, it's at sea level.

And of course, on August 2, the AC 100....

Last run of the year/first run of the year: San Gabriel Mountains and the Rose Bowl Parade

San Gabriel Mountains

On the descent from Mount Wilson, with Los Angeles in the distance.

  For my last run of the year I made it to the last section of the Angeles Crest 100 course that runs through the San Gabriel Mountains in Los Angeles. Jeremy, my brother-in-law, lives in the shadows of these mountains in Pasadena. Usually I associate LA with 8 lane freeways and 14 dollar movie tickets, but a short jaunt into the mountains reveals a network of well-maintained and scenic trails. My dad dropped us off at Chantry Flats, which is about 15 minutes up into the mountains off the 210. The trail is rolling single-track for the first few miles as it follows a ridge line before it begins the long climb up to Mount Wilson. As we climbed the endless switchbacks the snow became heavier. LA really does have it all. After nearing the summit we followed the course down a snow-covered two-track dubbed the Mt. Wilson "Toll road." We descended for a couple miles --back into the sun and heat-- and then linked up with another serpentine single track which took us briefly up and then down into the wooded Idle Hour Canyon. For the next couple of hours we would see no one as we ran (and hiked) the rolling climb up to Sam Merrill trail and then finally down to the popular Echo Mountain. At this point we departed from the A.C. 100 course as there were New Year's eve preparations to be taken care of, and we headed down a steep switched-backed descent down to the end of Lake Avenue in Altadena. Warning: avoid this section (or run it earlier in the day) if possible as there are loads of hikers on this trail. We had originally planned to just jog the last 3.5 miles to his house, but after four hours of climbing (6,000 feet) and almost as much descent over 18 miles, our quads were shot and the prospect of pavement running after all that incredible trail wasn't so appealing either. The run is beautiful, and even more striking considering it's close proximity to Los Angeles. An incredible run that makes me want to run the AC 100 in 2014 (already sold out for the August 3 running in 2013.) This run was a good training run for the Ray Miller 50k coming up in February. I'll be back out here for that race as well as the Surf City Half Marathon the following day. 

Here's the garmin data

Descending to Echo Mountain we finally emerged from the woods to some spectacular views of the city.

Snowy trails melting in the sun

On the "hot" side of the mountain
 

 The following morning we ran with Jeremy's friend Craig down to the Rose Bowl parade route as is their annual tradition. Not as stunning as the previous day's run, but plenty of unusual sights as we ran the parade route just before the start of the parade. Folks have been up all night reserving their seats and people are milling about everywhere and it takes on a sort of circus atmosphere.