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| Cascade Crest Classic - 100 Mile Endurance Run (Image from Sportstrack mobi) |
As I climbed up the trail in the later afternoon heat, a solo runner dehydrated, tired and hot from the heat of the day, on my way to Snowshoe Butte Aid Station, which I knew was somewhere up there, I really questioned what was I doing! Should I be out here even trying to run 100 miles in under 34 hours? I was 11 months post heart attack and still on medication to protect my heart during recovery. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be out here. Maybe I wasn't fast enough anymore to do these races. Maybe I should slow down and call it quits at Stampede Pass. After all, health is more important than ego, vanity or whatever. And was that what this was? Ego? Vanity? Something to prove to myself? Refusal to accept that things changed 11 months ago? Emotional as I questioned why and what was I doing. Tears flowing freely, I kept on climbing. Stampede Pass and then I'll decide on whether I continue or do what feels like the right thing in the moment - DNF.
Prologue
In early 2020 I and Charlene Waldner got in the lottery to run the Cascade Crest 100 (or Cascade Crest Classic as it is also known) for a race that starts and finishes at the Easton Fire Hall in Easton, Washington. Easton is a small unincorporated community in Kitititas County that time forgot when the Interstate by-passed all of the business and today there is not much there, except for a fire hall, a railway line and a few small businesses. We entered the race because I fell in love with the idea after pacing Andrew Barclay over the last 50 km of the course back in 2017. That year our adventure over the mountains was in the cloud and cool temperatures. But with a hard start (three mountains climbs in the first 20 km), 50 km on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), a rope section, a 4.5 km long tunnel, the infamous "Trail from Hell", Thorp Mountain and the also infamous "Cardiac Needles" - technical sections, road sections, and smooth trails with spectacular views, this really is an old school classic course.
Of course, everybody knows what happened in March 2020 and as such the race was cancelled and our registration was rolled over to 2021. While the race went ahead in 2021, the Canadian border was still closed so we were unable to travel to Easton. The race director, Rich White, was kind enough to roll us over again to 2022.
Training for a 100 when working and living at sea-level isn't really easy. Both Charlene and I relied mostly on our base running that we had kept up over the pandemic. We did ramp it up as we got closer, and included a 180 km 8 day hike with 15 kilo backpacks, that had Cascade Crest type climbs and descents along it (the beautiful Sunshine Coast Trail).
For me a heart attack one week after finishing the Finlayson Arm Double (135 km) not only put a hole in the training (paused on running for a while), but also whether I could actually run again. On the heart attack for those not in the know, don't assume you're all good inside even if you are fit and workout. Body chemistry is at play and sometimes it is silently trying to kill you. For me it was unchecked genetic high cholesterol that caused it. The fact I was fit from running likely played a part in saving my life.
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| The start and finish line in Easton |
July 22, 2022 - Easton, Washington
We arrived in Easton, Washington the day before with our crew and pacers, Andrew Barclay (pacing me) and Hicham El Amiri pacing Charlene. With nowhere to stay in Easton, we had a room in Cle Elum, about 15 minute drive east on I-90. A nice little inn run by a really sweet older couple, and which actually had a wonderful full-body massage chair in the lobby.
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| At the start line with 183 Charlene Waldner. I'm still eating (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
My only gear failure happened when preparing for the race the night before. Somehow I managed to melt my water bladder and create a hole in it. Andrew lent me his water bladder and he went out the next day while we were on the race course and bought a new one that he would then use for pacing. Always good to double check the gear.
My plan was to have drop boxes at Stampede Pass (approx. 60 km mark) and at Mineral Creek (approx. 120 km mark) with change of shoes, socks and nutrition in both. For Stampede Pass additionally lights and layers for night running.
Pizza for dinner in the town, then early night - asleep by 9 pm.
START TO STAMPEDE PASS - 3200 metres elevation gain
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| Elevation Profile - Start to Stampede Pass (image from Sportstrack mobi) |
We arrived Easton by 7:40 am and checked in. My bib number was 110 and Charlene was 183. In all there were 166 runners who showed up for the start. After the race briefing, a photo-op at the start line, it was soon time for the national anthems of the United Stated followed by Canada. Rich White held the American flag while fellow Victorian and race volunteer Rob Smith held the Canadian flag. And then we were off.
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| And we're off! (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
To Goat Peak Aid Station (7 km Mark; Friday 10:20 am)
Charlene and I ran together with the 164 other runners along the railway grade. At first a nice easy slow jog on the flat wide right of way. After winding through a private community we joined the trail system. The first section was along a decommissioned forest service road that started level but slowly increased as it started the climb up to Goat Mountain. They take decommissioning seriously as the trail was kilometres of logs pulled across the trail, and piles of dirt and sand to make it bumpy and unpassable to vehicles - and difficult for runners.
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| The start of the 2022 Cascade Crest Classic - at 9 am(credit: Andrew Barclay). |
To Cole-Blowout Saddle Aid Station (20 km Mark; Friday 12:24 pm)
Yes it was hot. The temperature was rising into the high 20s, with forecast of 27 degrees in the valley. A wind helped cool us, but it also ironically increased our loss of fluid through sweating. I was so dehydrated and couldn't drink enough to keep up.
Near the top of Goat Peak I had to stop to deal with a hot spot on my ankle. It was minor, but I wanted to deal with it before it became a problem - I still had 153 km to go. I told Charlene to go on and stopped to tape the ankle. Once done, I started the climb again but really was feeling off. It felt slower than it should be. I thought then it's likely because I'm not climatized to the altitude (we were by now over 1600 metres in elevation), dehydrated, over-heating and hadn't found my "ultra" legs yet. I just needed to slow down.
Once at the top, the views were well worth it - from the rocks on Goat Peak we could see the entire race course in the distance - exciting, and sobering as it also showed the reality of the terrain and distance we had to go. It was hard to imagine I could do that. And for the first time began to doubt whether I still had it in me to do this.
The trail descended on some nice runnable single track. I was feeling a bit light headed, so took it easy as my legs adjusted from the climbing to the pounding down hill. The down hill turned into an old fire road that switched back for kilometres down the mountain. It looked a long way down and I just knew that once at the bottom we'd be climbing that big and taller mountain I could see across the valley. Finally the down hill swept us in fast and hot to Cole-Blowout Saddle Aid Station. I checked with the time-keepers and found I was 10 minutes behind Charlene.
My planned nutrition was mostly Tailwind - a mix in my water bottle, but it wasn't sitting right with my system today. Likely the heat and elevation were having an effect. But fresh water was what I needed, so I ditched the Tailwind, and refilled with freshwater instead. I had coke, watermelon, grapes and some sort of potato at the aid station. My new plan was to graze the aid stations and forego the Tailwind (I had one bottle of it in case I needed something between aid stations other than water). Most runners end up dropping because of nutrition or GI issues, and I didn't want to allow that to happen. Always have a plan B. Always keep on top of nutrition and hydration - failure to do so can bite you in the ass later in the race in a really bad way.
To Little Bear Aid Station (31 km Mark; Friday 2:50 pm)
Feeling better after feeding and drinking at the aid station (at every aid station I drank a half bottle of water before filling it for the run) we began the climb up Blowout Mountain - the highest point on this part of the course at just over 1700 metres. The trail started gentle on old forest road. In the heat of the day, this was actually harder than than the steeper single track sections as it was more exposed. I could see Blowout Mountain in the distance and it looked A) far away, B) much higher up than I was currently, and C) Intimidating!
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| Hot and can't drink enough water, or take on enough electrolytes |
Finally after a lot of climbing we joined the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), something I'd been looking forward too since beginning the climb up Goat Peak. We joined just below the summit of Blowout Mountain but the trail instantly became much more graded, smoother and easier to navigate either hiking or running.
It had taken me much longer to reach this point than I anticipated and I was now worried and stressed that I wouldn't make the 8:30 pm cut off at Stampede Pass. It had taken me 5.5 hours to do the 29 km to the PCT and I had six hours to do the remaining 30 ish kilometres to the Pass.
But the run to Little Bear was so beautiful on the PCT. On the ridge spectacular views over the valley and Cascade Mountains, some beautiful camp spots with wonderful views. I vowed that I wanted to come back with my tent and section hike here and camp on top of these mountains. It felt a shame I had to run and not stop and enjoy the views.
To Tacoma Pass (40 km mark; Friday 4:06 pm)
From Little Bear it was all down hill on mostly gentle smooth PCT. I loved it and this was the fastest section of course for me. I cruised down the hill, actually feeling maybe I can do this. Then near the bottom my right quad cramped and locked up! Ouch. That hurts.
My mistake was when I switched to water, I forgot to also increase my salt intake. I was essentially flushing all of the salts out of my system and sweating it away. I had salt tabs and took a couple right then and vowed to take salt tabs every hour for the rest of the day. To stop the cramp I took Pickled Ginger - this just works and resets the nervous system within seconds. I was soon back on my feet and able to hike up hills and run. The Ginger is effective for a few hours - probably as long as the spice remains in my throat - so I did have to deal with that same quad cramping twice more later in the evening. But then that was it for cramps for the remainder of the run - likely because I got the salt intake under control.
Tacoma Pass was another aid station in a saddle so it's a fast arrival off the downhill, encouraged along by PCT hikers who had set up camp for the night next to the aid station (smart - free food and water). Cascade Crest always feeds PCT hikers at the aid stations.
To Shoeshoe Butte Aid Station (50 km mark; Friday 6:04 pm)
Leaving Tacoma Pass and on the climb to Snowshoe Butte was my low point of the race. I was in such a negative space here that I was actually thinking of sabotaging my own race. I was thinking I'd be so close to the cut off it wasn't worth continuing. I was feeling tired and wanting to stop and rest. Maybe if I rested long enough I'd miss the cut off at Stampede Pass and then the decision was made for me. It really was a strange place to be and a strange state of emotion for me. I really questioned what I was doing and was this sensible? I had my InReach and could activate the SOS if something happened, and I had a nitro spray to use if I had chest tightness issues. A side note, though I knew the nitro would have a performance enhancing effect by opening up arteries and allowing me to move faster, I never once thought of using it for this purpose. But I was thinking of the effects of 100 miles on the body. It's hard on the digestive system. it causes inflammation of practically every muscles in the body, and it is hard on the brain with sleep deprivation.
I slowed down and continued on. Toiling up the hill. It took two hours to get to Snowshoe Butte Aid Station. This was in a beautiful location, in a grass meadow on the side of the mountain near the summit. Th Ellensburg Cross Country Team had hiked everything in on a just under a one mile bush-whack trail to be there for us. They had tents set up and looked ready to settle in for the night once the sweeps had come through and confirmed no more runners were coming through.
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| At Stampede Pass Aid Station (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
To Stampede Pass Aid Station (57 km; Friday 7:26 pm)
As quickly as drinking a couple glasses of Coke, my mood had swung back to "I can do this" and "I want to do this". I felt so much better leaving Snowshoe Butte and knew that I'd be at Stampede Pass within the hour - giving me a 60 minute lead on the cut off there. That felt comfortable, as Stampede Pass is one of the tightest cut-off's on the course. It was mainly down hill, but not totally down hill; regardless I made good time. The runners manual says that the trail crosses three sets of power lines, and the Stampede Pass Aid Station was just after the third of them, so I was excited to see the first of the three. This gave me hope and energy. Also, I knew I'd see my crew for the first time here and I was so looking forward to that too.
RUNNING THORUGH THEN NIGHT: 1400 metres elevation gain
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| Elevation Profile - Stampede Pass to Mineral Creek (image from Sportstrack Mobi) |
I was so happy to see Andrew and Hicham at Stampede Pass. As Andrew had done this race before he knew exactly how I was feeling and what I needed. He sat me down, and got me food while Hicham filled my water for me. From my drop box I changed my socks and shirt and put on my waist light for night running. I also put my headlamp in my pack as a backup - I didn't fully trust the waist light due to previous issues I've had with it just going off with no warning. I also had an extra set of batteries for it so I should be fine for the night.
To Meadow Mountain (68 km mark; Friday 9:36 pm)
Refreshed, full of water and some solid food, I said goodbye to Andrew and Hicham, called "110 out" to the time keeper and set off on the climb out of Stampede Pass heading for Meadow Mountain. I had forgotten to ask the distance to Meadow Mountain but then decided it didn't matter, I'd get there when I get there.
I caught up to Nettie Pardue from California. She was doing a nice pace that felt comfortable as we headed into twilight and I stayed behind her. She asked if I wanted to pass but I said "if she didn't mind, I'd pace behind her as I liked her pace". It felt so good to have someone to talk too. Around 9 pm, I had to stop to take my meds, and then I continued on, catching up to Nettie again. The trail after climbing gently leveled out and was such a joy to run and power hike along at a comfortable pace. Nothing dramatic. I left my light off as long as I could, until I started tripping over unseen rocks and decided it was time for the light. The waist light is perfect for trail running - it provides a 3-D effect by casting shadows that help pick out rocks and roots. I find it so easy to run and power hike on technical trail with it; much easier than when the light source is above my eyes.
In the distance to our right we could see lights. It looked like a pavilion on water but it was hard to tell. Turns out it was the aid station - just a long way off and we had a good view before finally looping around and descending into it. The sound of the ham radio calls talking to base was so welcoming, and somewhat jarring on the night air after hours of solitude on the trail.
A short stop to fill up water, and the usual watermelon, grapes and some potatoes before I announced myself "out" only to then look around for the way out. The aid station was on a forest service road and I was about to head down it, when a volunteer pointed me to the trail and sent me on the correct way.
To Olallie Meadow Aid Station (77 km mark; Friday 11:53 pm)
This section to Olallie Meadows is the most technical and toughest part of the PCT. The trail quickly deteriorated into a rock strewn mess, with a lot of steep climbs with poor footing. To make it worse there were large stretches of hard packed snow covering the trail, and lots of streams from the melt water to cross. Once across Yakima Pass we started a climb up to Mirror Lake where there were PCT hikers sleeping in their tents. Oh, how I envy them! They had placed encouraging signs on the trail for us, such as "Run, walk, run, walk", or "just keep moving!". So nice to see them.
After Mirror Lake we climbed again on very technical trail. By now I had caught up to Nettie and two other runners had caught up to us. They also fell in behind, and we power hiked over the rubble, loose rocks, and crossed endless streams mostly in silence, enjoying the night together.
Ahead I saw Nettie's light as she turned around. As I approached she said "thought I saw a bear". That raised the hairs on my head. I looked around but couldn't see anything. I swear we were going a bit faster after that in the light of our respective lamps.
And then the down hill; we could hear the aid station well before we got anywhere near to it. Sound really travels far at night. But the sound of the aid station lifted my spirits and made me move faster, wanting to get in there as soon as I could. I knew from here it was all down hill to Hyak - roughly halfway.
To Hyak Aid Station (86 km Mark; Saturday 1:22 am)
Leaving Olallie Meadows, I had to stop to put on a jacket as I was getting cold, and I had to recharge one of my hearing aids - keeping the other one in so I could hear. I have a battery charger for them and a full charge would take three hours.
Then I continued on the gentle down for the final mile of the PCT, before turning off on a steep down hill track. This was a fast but somewhat treacherous run, ending with a sharp turn onto a super steep trail with ropes strung along it to help us down. The footing was mostly dust and my Brooks Catmount runners' tread was proving useless on loose sand (but awesome on everything else and super comfortable on my feet regardless of the terrain). I ended up sliding down on my feet and bum for much of it, using the ropes at the bottom to navigate the loose boulders.
Once down we were on the John Wayne Trail, and old abandoned railway grade that is now a cycle and hiking route. We followed this as it climbed gently towards Snoqualmie Pass. About a mile or so we entered the 4.0 km (2.5 mile) tunnel that would take us through the mountain and out to Hyak. At its deepest the tunnel is over 500 metres below the surface above - that's a lot of rock above us. it took me 31 minutes to get through the tunnel using a power hike and run/jog approach. Finally moonlight at the end and then a short curve into Hyak Aid Station - approximately halfway. At this point I was one hour behind Charlene.
To Keechelus Ridge Aid Station (99 km Mark; Saturday 4:00 am)
Andrew was at Hyak to see if I needed anything. I didn't really other than a refill of water and a handful of food. The next two sections were all on road. I left at 1:30 am and once on the unnamed road parallel to I-90, I turned off my light and power hiked and jogged in the light of the moon and freeway lights. Some runners asked if I had a light? I thought this strange as I'd have to be pretty crazy to try running through the night without one. Though some people would say we're pretty crazy to do this at all.
A lot of runners had picked up their pacer's at Hyak and I passed the time playing "guess the runner". It was an easy game - the runner had the ultra shuffle - barely moving feet forward and looked banged up and achy, while the pacer smelled clean and fresh and had a spring in their step! It passed the time as the climb to Keechelus Aid Station was long and all on forest service road, pretty boring. My watch has a climb screen that tells me distance to the top, elevation left to go and progress so far. It's a depressing feature when you think you're close, but the watch is showing 6 km to the top and 450 metres more elevation to climb. Sigh! Just dig down into low gear and grind on up.
I took a few short rests on the climb. Finding a rock, I'd sit down and turn off my light and close my eyes for one or two minutes, then turn my light back on and continue going. I got passed at these times, but I soon caught up so I thought it was useful to me. I had to fight sleepiness on the climb. The round bright light from the waistlamp would sometimes dance a bit, and I'd stumble my brain desperately trying to shut down as much as possible. Finally after 2.5 hours from Hyak, the warmth of the Keechelus Ridge Aid Station's evil fire could be felt.
To Lake Kachess Aid Station (111 km mark; Saturday 5:45 am)
I got out of Keechelus Ridge as quickly as I could. I was so cold but did not want to get close to the fire; if I did I wouldn't want to leave. There were quite a number of runners huddled around it warming up. Filling up as usual, I got going - using movement to warm up. By now it was really cold - down to below 8 degrees with a strong wind making it feel even colder. After a day of close to 30 degrees, it's a shock to the system. We were over 1400 metres elevation on the ridge - we'd climbed a long way up.
The roads climbed a bit more before beginning the long descent to Lake Kachess and I power hiked and ran along this section. I had to stop to put one hearing aid back in, and put the other one on charge for a few hours. I found a spot out of the wind to do this where I could sit on a rock, which were very few and far between on this stretch.
The sky lightened and before I knew it, it was dawn. I turned off my light for the last time and ran the last kilometre to the aid station (well to the bottom, then hiked up the hill to the actual aid station), where Andrew was waiting for me. By now I was 30 minutes behind Charlene.
To Mineral Creek on the "Trail from Hell" (119 km mark; Saturday 8:28 am)
"Trail from Hell" is a good name for this old bushwhack trail that has been well worn over the years. It follow the lake shore and for hours it felt like the end of the lake is not getting any nearer. The trail has countless steep unnecessary climbs, including some just to climb over a massive tree root then drop down again. Many sketchy sections requiring the tired brain to figure out the best foot placement to avoid a fall into the lake. But the best approach is just to accept it for what it is and hike it.
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| Deceptively Tranquil - on the "Trail from Hell" in the early morning (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
We did come across one runner who had slipped off the narrow trail and slid a good three metres down the steep lightly vegetated slope, stopping short of going into the lake. Another hiker was there helping him find a spot to climb back up to the trail. Andrew checked on him while I kept moving; no point in me trying to help, I'd be offering brain dead advice and likely end up in the lake with him. Andrew was fresh and could help problem solve and catch up to me without breaking a sweat.
The last insult from the "Trail from Hell" was to wade across a river swollen with snow melt - ice cold and up to my thighs. I couldn't be bothered to find a less deep path, I just plunged in the closest section and went up to my ass in water.
We made it to Mineral Creek Aid Station just in time to see Charlene and her pacer, Hicham getting ready to leave. They reluctantly came over to say hello after realizing we'd seen them - but were quick to get moving. We were not racing each other but the instinct is there to get going.
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| On the Trail from Hell alongside Lake Kachess (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
I had a drop box here and I changed my soaking wet shoes and sock, putting on new socks and my old pair of Brooks Caldera 4 - the best ultra shoe ever made for my feet. So much so that I'd used Tenacious Tape to fix some worn sections on the shoes so I could use them in the race - the tread was still in good shape. Unfortunately, these shoes are no longer available, being replaced with the far inferior Caldera 5. I wish Brooks would leave the designs of their shoes alone.
CARDIAC NEEDLES TO THE FINISH Over 2000 metres elevation gain to go still!
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| Elevation Profile - Mineral creek to the Finish Line (image from Sportstrack Mobi) |
Yes that name certainly gives you pause when you are looking at a hundred mile race to run. They are named that way for a reason.
I ate some pizza for breakfast here, along with water and coke, watermelon and grapes. It felt fine until I started to walk towards the aid station exit when I began to feel queasy. Oh yeah. My gut was not having anything to do with the pizza and I knew I was going to vomit. It came on fast and Andrew got me some paper towel to handle the heaving. As I was mostly on a liquid diet overnight, soups and broths, fruits and sugar there was nothing much there to come up. I felt better but had to sit down for a few more minutes until I was feeling more steady.
Lesson learned - for the remainder of the run I was staying with fruit, sugar and liquid calories - northing solid.
To No Name Ridge Aid Station (130 km mark, Saturday 11:06 am)
We soon got going on the long 10 kilometre climb up No Name Ridge forest service road, climbing up from 700 metres to 1500 metres elevation. The day was heating up and it was pretty hot climbing in the sun. Andrew kept me moving but also allowed me to take some short breaks on the way up. I delayed taking my meds until I knew my stomach had settled and I could keep things down.
There were some nice views along the way, but the one I didn't want to look at was the summit of the mountain we were climbing, because it looked such a long way off and a big climb up still.
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| Spectacular views of the volcano Mount Rainier all along the ridge lines - from Cardiac Needles. (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
To Thorp Mountain Aid Station (137 km mark, Saturday 1:17 pm)
As we left No Name Ridge Aid Station a volunteer wished us well and added "enjoy all the unnecessary ups and downs". The Cardiac Needles start easy with the first two making you think "what's all the fuss about", but the the third one punches' you in the gut. It climbs steep and gets steeper, and then when you think you're at the top, it continues going even higher and longer than the first section. For those who have done the Fat Dog races, it's very much like Skyline 1 trail in Manning Provincial Park.
After the third one, the trail navigates around Thorp Mountain to the aid station, where we then do an out and back up to the summit of Thorp Mountain. At 1785 metres, this is the highest point on the course, just slightly higher than Blowout Mountain (which we climbed yesterday morning) and the upcoming un-named and much hated Fourth Needle, Fifth Needle and Sixth Needle (my names for them).
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| Passing on the out and back to the summit of Thorp Mountain (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
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| A minute rest at the top, then we continue back down the way we came up. (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
My usual at the aid station - a big glub of fresh water, fruit and some potato chips then with a handful of skittles we set off. I was anxious to get going. It was only 3 miles (5 km) to French Cabin, but as I'd paced Andrew in 2017 I knew this section was really tough and surprising. Don't let anybody think that summiting Mount Thorp means it's easy from here on out. In Ginger Runner's "Amongst the Evergreens" video (on YouTube), Gary Robbins comments that is is mostly down hill from here. What an understatement and complete lie - such a pacer thing to say!
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| Just keep moving! (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
Leaving Thorp after traversing a ridge line, we begin the first of three big super steep climbs that really test our tired legs and glutes to the max. The only consolation is my legs feel like solid iron by now. For added fun the climbs are all on the ridge in the open burning hot sun. Ahead are the imposing steep sheer rock cliffs raising hundreds of metres into the sky and we just know we're going up there because there is no other way to go. Sections of the trail here are narrow, about one foot wide with a steep unvegetated drop to the left - we do not want to slip here.
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| My pacer and Cascade Crest Classic finisher - Andrew Barclay. (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
On arrival I discovered I was 10 minutes behind Charlene.
To Silver Creek Aid Station: Battle of the Pacers.(154 km mark, Saturday 4:49 pm)
Leaving French Cabin Aid Station, the trail dropped before climbing over a saddle - then some beautiful smooth track for easy running. Andrew really encouraged me to run here and I did what I could. I was by now feeling good. tired but I knew I was going to finish and that coveted buckle was mine. I enjoyed this stretch. We spotted Charlene and Hicham and that spurred Andrew on - leaving me in his dust. Charlene later told me Hicham was encouraging her to run harder too. I'm not competitive and I wanted Charlene to run her race and enjoy it - I didn't want her to feel she had to wait for me, or keep up with me if I was running stronger. And I didn't want to feel I had to run harder to keep up either. Remember, I was post heart attack and not fully convinced this entire endeavor was a good idea. I felt fine, my heart rate was within normal (in fact the overall average was 116 bpm, which surprised me).
Finally the steep down hill. Andrew wanted me to run hard down here but my left quad was so painful on every pounding step. I ended up compromising and power hiking and running alternating down the hill and into Silver Creek Aid Station.
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| View from Thorp Mountain (credit: Andrew Barclay). |
To Easton Fire Hall - the Finish Like (160 km, Saturday 5:44 pm)
I'd warned Andrew I had no intention of stopping at Silver Creek. As I ran in I called "110", the immediately "110 out", and kept going through the aid station and onto the trail and right into Charlene and Hicham. I had caught up. Not planned.
We power hiked and ran together along the flat and hot last six kilometres of the course. Around the airstrip and then onto the road for the final three kilometres. Charlene ran on ahead, encouraged by her pacer. In sight of the finish line, Andrew encouraged me to run and I did a bit. Then finally just before the finish chute, Andrew reminded me of my finishing sprint at Fat Dog and said "you've got it in you to catch her". So I sprinted and caught up to Charlene at the finish chute, grabbed her hand, and with the pacers we all crossed the finish line together.
It was a bit anticlimactic for me as my number bib had fallen off somewhere between the last aid station and the finish, so the race director had no idea I was a racer, thought I was a friend running her in, which is allowed and encouraged on this course from Silver Creek to the finish. Andrew explained I was runner 110 and they then welcomed me and gave me my buckle and finishing hoodie.
Postscript
Cascade Crest Classic really treats runners well. They sat us down in chairs in the shade next to the finish line, brought a bucket of ice cold water and cloth for our aching feet. That felt so nice. They also brought me a fully loaded juicy bacon cheese burger, potato chips and an ice cold thick huckleberry milkshake.
Then we sat at the finish line and cheered on in-coming racers. I was so tired I don't remember much but I do remember I was asleep by 8 pm - instantly!
Cascade Crest Classic is an amazing race, beautiful but super hard course. Of the 166 who started, 1 in 4 did not finish. The race is well organized, the course is well marked and the volunteers are just absolutely awesome. This was Jess Mullen first year of race directing, taking over from Rich White. And Jess, you knocked it out of the park. Thank you so much for a wonderful event and lifetime bucket list memories.
And so proud of Charlene Waldner for completing her first 100 miler. Unlike me she didn't know what to expect along the course, especially the last 50 km and she paced it well and finished strong.
Thanks to Andrew Barclay for crewing and pacing me on the hardest part of the course when I'm most tired and not thinking straight. Your leading me through the trail and running helped pull me along faster than if I was alone. And the company was so much appreciated too.
And to all of the volunteers. It's a long time to be out there helping 166 tired and smelly racers complete the course. Thank you for being there - seeing your friendly faces after hours on the trails really lifted my spirits. And to Rob Smith for looking after us and being such a great advocate and ambassador for Canadian's in the race. We really really appreciate all you do.
Coda...
And next week, I'll be returning the favour. Charlene and I will be volunteering at a remote aid station on the Fat Dog race course. We'll see the 120 mile runners twice, and we'll also see the 70 mile, 50 mile and 40 mile runners once. Looking forward to the hike in and camping in the back-country, and being there to help all runners, whatever the distance, to safely finish their race as quickly as they want to.
But on reflection, as much as I enjoyed the event, I think this is my last 100 miler. Hiking and adventure runs will do my fix for being out high on the mountains. It's not vanity, ego. It's about balance of life and being real. Challenging myself is important and I have nothing to prove to myself or others. Just want to go out and enjoy time in the outdoors any way I can. This race has given me what I need. I'm at peace with that.
