I got to “bed” around 10:30pm and planned to sleep until 4am – no real plans to rush the morning. Instead I wanted to get a really good rest so that I could have a strong day on Monday to finish the race. While 84 hours was still on my mind, I was also willing to eschew hitting that time in exchange for good strong day.
I woke up sometime around 1:30am. The air was cold outside, blowing under the tent flaps, and the wool blanket felt warm and comfortable. I did a quick diagnostic – no soreness in my legs and I felt rested, so it was time to rise and shine. The only thing standing in my way of the finish line was 50 miles of trails. Having that singular focus was so freeing and enjoyable. I slipped on my shoes and ambled back to the aid station area from the sleeping tents.
First things first – pop in my contact lenses so I could see. I didn’t think through this like I should have, trying to put them in my eyes while standing outside on a rug using my iPhone as a mirror. Duh.
One of my contacts fell on the ground, so the mad scramble to find a needle a haystack began. I was able to find it, and then asked for some help. One of volunteers had a camper with a mirror. Much more civilized and practical. I then ordered some breakfast and found a spot on ground to start limbering up.
While I was stretching, a runner came into the aid station, telling a story about a bear encounter. He had turned a corner on the trail a few miles back and saw a bear standing there. When he tried to make some noise to scare it away, the bear stood its ground. Then he heard some rustling and saw three cubs up in a tree – not exactly this situation you want to find yourself in, so he backed off down the trail a bit and waited until he heard them leave.
I told this story to Todd, the head medic, at the Tahoe City aid station later that morning. He asked me – “Do you think he really saw a bear?” as if to say – “Maybe the guy was hallucinating…” Either way, it was both entertaining and a reminder that I was in the wilderness, even though the aid stations, trail markers and constant drip of runners made it feel like we were out for a walk in the woods on a race course.
Once I ate, I remembered that I left my trekking poles down at the sleeping tent, and Liz was kind enough to go grab them. Final adjustments to my gear and I got some advice on the next stretch from the Donner Running Party – “mostly downhill and very runnable. Really great surface.” Yes. Awesome.
On the way out, the volunteers played exit song requests. Here’s mine:
Brockway (mile 155) to Tahoe City (mile 175): Flying Down the Mountain
It was just past 2:30am and I was on my way to Tahoe City, 20 miles of nighttime and early morning running. Like yesterday, I segmented this stretch into smaller parts. I knew I had about three hours of darkness, then I’d start to see the false dawn around 5:30, then the sunrise an hour after that.
I figured this 20-miles stretch would take about 6-7 hours given the wear and tear of the past three days, bringing me into Tahoe City around 9:30am. I had budgeted to be there by 9am on my 84-hour race plan, and given my early start – arriving about two hours ahead last night and leaving much earlier this morning than planned – I started to think that as long as I kept plodding along at the same pace, I might still have a chance to hit the 84-hour mark. I tried to do some math in my head – 50 miles, divide by 3 (20:00 min/mile pace) was 17 hours. Three o’clock AM, add 17 hours…. 12 hours is 3:00pm, remainder 5 hours, which is 8pm, which would be 83 hours so even at a 20:00 min/mile pace for the day, I have an hour buffer to get to the finish by 9:00pm, or 84 hours. This could happen.
I hadn’t thought much about bears too most of the way, but during this morning I definitely thought about bears. The guy’s story at the aid station spooked me. Plus I was now working on eight hours of sleep over three days and more than 155 miles, so the visuals were pretty strong.
I wasn’t hallucinating, but rocks, trees and shrubs took shape. Stumps looked like giant frogs and the heads of giant ferrets. Fallen trees and rocks started to look like bears. I decided to just have fun with it. I knew none of it was real, so why not enjoy the show?
The first part of this stretch was a gentle uphill then an easy downhill for the first 2.5 miles, then there was a long gradual uphill for the next five miles that gained about 1000’. Definitely manageable even if it meant a lot of slow miles. I just focused on plodding along. I came down a hill to a small lake or pond, and stopped for a few minutes to eat a bag of sweet potatoes and bacon. I called that “breakfast.”
After reaching the end of the gradual climb, the rest of this stretch was as promised – flat and runnable, and a super opportunity to bank some time, dropping into 16:00 and 17:00-minute miles in the first ten miles. Around mile 12, I stopped for a longer break, then the next 5-6 miles were GLORIOUS!
My legs felt remarkably fresh. No soreness in my quads or hamstrings at all. A few ligaments and tendons were feeling worn, but nothing debilitating, so I was able to pick up the pace and knock out miles all the way into the 11:00-13:00 minute/mile range. This was HUGE to bank this time, and to feel really strong, almost like Superman. Every mile that I picked off was one less mile to go to the finish. Every mile at a pace under 20:00-minutes was banked time.
I zoomed by a couple of runners on this segment that I had run with last night. They had gotten an earlier start than me, but with my pace, I was able to catch up and pass them. At one point, I got down to 7:23 pace for a short spurt. I was flying down the mountain.
After riding that wave, I had about three miles to the aid station. The trail turned rocky and hard to manage at a quick pace. I took that as a sign to slow down, enjoy the time I banked and start resting up for the next stretch from Tahoe City to Stephen Jones.
Travis and Lena would be meeting me at Tahoe City. I told them sometime between 8:30-9:00, thinking that I would arrive a bit later than that, but at least they’d be there ready to go when I arrived to shorten the rest stop time but I was well ahead of that.
As I came down to the trailhead, the course ran along a couple of streets to reach the aid station. As I pulled into the aid station, it was only 8:15am! The sun was shining, and I felt awesome, just awesome. Lena was just walking up to the station with chairs and gear just as I arrived.
The aid station was quiet so I had the place pretty much to myself at first with just 1-2 other runners there. I ordered a huge breakfast – eggs, bacon and pancakes. I wanted to refuel and enjoy the fruits of my early morning work. I had just covered 20 miles in under 5:45, feeling great and starting to believe that 84 hours was very, very possible after all.
Todd patched me up one more time, taking care of a blister under a toenail. He told me that I was looking strong and really in good shape. Travis pulled into the parking lot, got together his gear while I ate and got medical attention. I was juiced and ready to go. Lena snapped a picture and off we went.
Two guys headed out for a 20-mile hike…
Tahoe City (mile 175) to Stephen Jones (mile 195): Just Two Buddies on a Day Hike
I saw this stretch as the last dragon to vanquish. While the last ten miles from Stephen Jones to the finish included one last big climb, I knew that once I got to Stephen Jones, I would be unstoppable and my finish inevitable, save for a major catastrophe.
Travis and I departed Tahoe City at 9:03am, so I was well ahead of my 84-hour plan. I had planned to arrive to Tahoe City at 9am, so pulling out of the aid station at that time felt really, really good. I briefed Travis on our walk-run strategy, and the first bit of the course ran along pavement before darting back onto the trails. We had a short climb before a steady flat few miles before the mega-climb on this stretch – nearly 2000’ over 3-4 miles right in the middle of the 20 miles.
We knocked off the first 5-6 miles pretty quickly, and again I was happy to bank time, bracing for any possible delays where I’d need to use that time – needing a long break, and injury or anything else. I’m not sure where my worry came from given how well my body help up through 3+ days, but I just wanted to keep that mindset to brace for or avoid any total meltdown.
We came upon a small footbridge at the base of the big climb, crossing a stream near a waterfall. We sat for a minute to rest before the climb and decided to fill up our water bottles just in case. It felt like we had enough, but I was close to empty on one bottle and the thought of the first night when I ran out of water getting into Sierra-at-Tahoe, which seemed like weeks ago now, was still in my mind. Travis was good enough to climb down to the stream for us and our climb began.
By now, runners were scattered far apart on the course. We went miles without seeing anyone else, I remarked that it didn’t even feel like I was in a race anymore. It jut felt like two guys out for a hike. That feeling alarmed me because I didn’t want to lose any intensity in mindset and pace, but with the climb, there wasn’t much I could do to go faster so it was just about plodding and plodding and plodding. Just keep moving and trust that I was executing on my race plan.
After about an hour, Travis called out the time and asked if we should break. Very good of him to stay on schedule – 55 minutes of movement then a 5 minute break. Perfect timing. We continued the climb and the path crossed an open field close to the top.
Travis was as much as a guide and storyteller as he was a pacer. He knew the geography, plants and flowers around us really well. The best part was that he kept me talking. We talked for a while about endurance racing – marathons, triathlons, training and qualifying for the Boston Marathon. Then we talked about his backcountry adventures with Richard Sexton, a fellow economist at UC-Davis. In his stores, Travis described the terrain, the story, the situation, the weather, the equipment. It was entertaining and most of all, helped pass the time, which meant that as long as we kept moving forward, distance was passing as well.
We reached the top of the climb along with 2-3 other runners about the same time and stopped to look over the valley and take a few pictures. Such a wonderful feeling to have that climb behind me. Just like with Powerline, it was milestone to the finish – it was starting to feel real. I started thinking about the distance not just to Stephen Jones, but to the finish line. We were now about ten miles into this stretch, with ten miles to go, then just another ten miles from Stephen Jones to the finish line. The mental countdown started, even as much as I wanted to stay present and focused on just getting to the next aid station.
Victory shall be mine!
Soon after reaching the peak, we stopped for another break to refresh and start the downhill. The next seven miles were simply GLORIOUS again. First, Travis started ahead, picking up the pace ever so slightly. I felt GREAT! Very strong and enjoying the downhill. I told him to nudge the pace a bit more, so faster we went. We stopped for a short break, then I took the lead, running ahead for a few miles, ratcheting up the pace even more, faster and faster. For a two mile stretch, we dropped down to a sub-8:00 min/mile and even down to a 7:07 pace at one point. Pure flow. Knocking off miles in 11:00-16:00 range was just damn fun. More time in the bank.
We reached the bottom of the trail into a neighborhood down to the lake. After about 1/2 mile, we picked up the bike trail along Lake Tahoe. Just like the day before near Incline Village, the asphalt miles were painful. Travis kept me moving with a walk-run strategy – “Run to the second telephone pole” and we’d run to it. “Run to the big tree off to the right” and we’d run to it. Along the path, we stopped to dip our hats in cool lake water which was welcome relief. While the air temperature was moderate, the sun felt hot and we’d been going almost six hours.
The course has us cross the road and head back into some asphalt neighborhood roads before reaching another walking trail on the way to Stephen Jones aid station. We were about two miles from the aid station and I was starting to feel the first real effects of the mileage in my feet and legs. The arch on my left foot was starting to throb and I thought about it would be entirely possible for this to flair up to the point where I couldn’t run. Most of this track was flat or modestly uphill but I had a hard time running with any pace so we walked it. Along the last two miles, Travis and I talked about the aid station plan. Refuel, eat, take Advil and apply more sunscreen.
The trail came out to another asphalt road and we crossed a bridge with a volunteer there. “Just go right up there and hang a left. The aid station is about a quarter mile.”
“A quarter mile from when we take a left, or a quarter mile from here? Because it matters…” I asked half-jokingly, half-seriously.
She laughed – “From when you make a left.”
Into the aid station we trudged, where Lena, Benjamin, Nina and Paul were waiting. It was just past 3pm, and again, I was ahead of schedule by nearly an hour. THIS MEANT I HAD SIX HOURS TO GO 10 MILES AND STILL BREAK 84 HOURS!
I took my time at the aid station to make sure I was completely regrouped before the last climb. I had the medical volunteer check out my feet. The bandages on my blisters were holding up, and I told him about the shooting paid in my arch.
“I never really get plantar faciatis. This is pretty unusual.”
He didn’t say a word, instead giving me a hilarious look that said – “Are really surprised that after 195 miles, you might actually have some problems you’ve never experienced before?” He applied some rock tape to hold my arch in place. “That should get you through these last ten miles.”
Two guys after a 20-mile hike…
While in the chair, I broached the topic of having someone pace me for this last stretch. Travis said, “I’d stay with you if I think you needed it. You look great – really strong. You don’t need me.” Lena and I talked about her pacing me, and decided that I was good on my own, and that I’d rather her get to the finish line with everyone to meet me there. Paul and Nina helped to refill by water bladder and nutrition and off I went.
STEPHEN JONES (mile 195) TO THE FINISH (mile 205.5): A Massive Climb & A Massive Thunderstorm
Ten miles to go! JUST TEN MILES TO GO!
The first two miles were unexpectedly flat. The surface was littered in large rocks about the size of my fists and feet, but even so, I was able to walk-run to keep the pace going and bank a few minutes before the climb started.
Then it started. Travis had briefed me about this last segment of the course – “It’s a climb about the same as the one we just did, but there’s a saddle on the top, so when he hit the first peak, you’ll go down a little, then back up to a second peak.”
Nope. It was not a climb like the one we just did. It was way, WAY worse. SUPER steep – like climbing stairs but without the stairs. I knew I had about 1750 feet of vertical to reach the top, so I segmented the climb into 250 foot chunks. It was really, really hard to avoid looking at my Garmin. When I did, I’d see I’d only climbed 60’ or 80’ so I started picking a spot above me and climb to that, the find another turn and climb to that. Very slow going, but I kept it steady. At one point, I looked back down and it felt like a roller coaster descent behind me. My only regret is that I didn’t take a picture back down the hill.
I was both cursing and applauding Candice, the race director. “Well done, Candice,” I thought. “Take everything we’ve done over the past 195 miles to get to these last ten, the turn the screws on us one more time.”
After about 1000’, I reached a false peak where a car with a couple of race supporters were, offering water and soda as an informal aid station. I declined and kept moving. The course ran along a paved road for about 1/2 mile before turning back into trail. One more push to the top.
More switchbacks and steepness. A hiker passed me on the way down. I managed a “Hello.” and she replied with – “Enjoy you walk!” Giggle.
As I got closer to the top of the climb, the trees thinned out and I could start to see more of the sky, and what I saw was not good. A thunderstorm was brewing directly across the lake and headed my way. As I reached a clearing towards the top of the climb, it was pretty obvious that I’d be in a race to get up and over the peak before the storm hit. I didn’t care much for the feeling of being at 9000’ feet on an exposed peak with a thunderstorm approaching. I reach one peak, then the trail descended briefly, then back up to the actual peak.
This is NOT the saddle on the last segment. Still more climbing after the peak ahead…
The storm grew closer and I was glad for a decision I made in the last aid station. I had gone through my backpack and handed off some stuff I wouldn’t need to Lena to save on weight – electronic equipment and a couple of other things. I had thought about handing over my rain gear, assuming I won’t need it, but instead thought about Deep Survival. The jacket and pants weighed less than 1/2 lb and what if….
As I reached Ellis peak, I felt a relief to have that behind me so that I could start the race to the finish. The trail descended quickly and the storm was coming closer. Fast. The trail flattened a bit then had a slight incline. Then the slight incline turned steeper. F&CK! I thought I’d hit the saddle before the last peak, and only now was I hitting it! More f&cking climbing.
Now I was starting to feel concerned for getting stuck up there somehow in the storm, so much so, that I was now running the uphills. I just wanted to get to the next peak, knowing it really would be the last, then I could haul ass it to the finish line.
Not what you want to see while standing on a 9000′ peak.
I hit the peak and started down the true final descent. I came upon a patch of snow that I remembered from the start of the race, and knew that I was about 3 miles to the finish. I was well ahead of schedule again, and right now, looking to finish around 7pm – two hours ahead of my 84-hour race plan. As I started down, I texted Lena –
I checked the time – just before 6:30pm. With about three miles to go, I started thinking about breaking the 7pm barrier and having a time of 81:something. Wow. So impressed with my performance. But no time to celebrate because of the damn storm rolling in.
The trail was exposed because I was now running down ski trails and the thunderstorms kept approaching. I’d see lightening flash, then I counted until I heard thunder – one one thousand, two one-thouasand, three one-thousand. I was running scared. By now, I locked into a flow state again, picking a line through the trail rocks, eyeing the trail about 50 feet ahead for my line, not even looking down at where my feet were going – they just knew. A few times I stumbled and once I fell. Inconsequential. Just get up and run.
The thunderstorm was now directly over me and passing from the west to the east. Rain hadn’t fallen and I was running scared. The trail ran along the ski lifts, which of course were made from metal, which was awesome in a thunderstorm, and the farther I descended, the more I kept looking for the last turn down into the open ski run area where I could spot the finished gate. But it kept eluding me. I was peeking at my Garmin, and now breaching 10 miles for the stretch. I had to be close, so close. Right?
The trail turned again with a few switchbacks and the flow state dissipated. The storm had blown overhead and now was to the East. It seemed to stay at a high altitude and never hit squarely over me. My pace slowed and I was feeling it in my feet and quads for the last two miles. I kept pushing even though I knew I couldn’t keep the same pace as the miles before.
My Garmin ticked past 10 miles and the finish was no where in sight. I starting to sense I couldn’t break 7pm without a miracle.
More turns. More switchbacks. Maybe there were only 3 or 4 or 5, but they felt endless and steep, then FINALLY I saw the opening to the gate.
This was it! I couldn’t even enjoy the moment, worried about getting to the bottom of the mountain, worried about the family and especially Benjamin waiting out there for me, exposed to the storm. I pushed as hard as I could to hit the finish without taking time to consider what I was accomplishing – 205 MILES! Even as I write, I’m feeling my eyes tear up. 205 miles… 205 miles… 205 miles… Wow.
The race team propped up the finishing gate and my mother-in-law, Nina, was standing across the finish line with a red umbrella. She tried to hand it to me. I pushed it aside and said – “Thanks, Mom, I don’t want an umbrella.”
All I wanted was to see Lena and Benjamin and give them an enormous hug. And I did.
At THE FINISH: 205.5 Miles
Just like at the start of the race, the finish to ultra-marathons are equally melodramatic. No one on a loud speaker yelling – “Scott Sambucci! YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!”
Instead, it’s just a couple of people standing around. No crowds. No cheering except for your own crew. With the storms, it was much worse because a wind gust had just blown over the inflatable finishing gate and the food tent. While I was coming down the course on the last mile, everyone at the finish was scrambling to lock down the tents and food.
Had it not been for Nina, then would not have even had the gate stood up for me. I learned later that she had made friends with the race team, as she’s prone to do :-), and she asked them – “Could you please put the gate back up for him?”
So awesome. Thanks, Mom. You’re the best. 🙂
I was feeling great. I’d just run 205.5 miles and was standing there having a conversation, talking about the storm, and getting briefed on all that happened with the wind gust while I was approaching the finish.
I asked for my finished time.
82:00:16.
I just missed finishing before 7pm, and somehow felt disappointed, immediately starting to think about how with the right planning before a few aid stations and taking a few shorter breaks, or running a few more flat spots, how I could have dropped into the 70s. It’s gave me a glimpse of what is possible with the right training, the right planning and the right effort.
Check the box. 205.5 miles.
I talked to another runner or two, and one of the race coordinators. I asked for my buckle which had been packed away with all of the other race gear after the wind gust. She kindly retrieved the box and I picked out my buckle.
But it wasn’t about a buckle. It wasn’t about loud cheering. This was for me – that I set out to do some incredibly hard, and with the right plan and the right team and the right execution, I was able to do something wonderful.
205.5 miles.