2009 Angeles Crest 100 Mile Run Cancelled

When mother nature speaks, she usually has something dramatic to say. For those of us who have to listen, it often comes as one sudden disappointment, even sacrifice. Last year, as she wielded her powers down on the forests of Placer County, dozens of fires rose from lightening strikes, and hundreds of Western States runners, some traveling across the globe, were told to quietly go home. The race had been canceled. Runners of the 2009 Angeles Crest 100 mile endurance now face the same disappointing reality.

As one who experienced the Western States 2008 cancellation, I can only say this -- accept the fact that we type-As can't control everything and indeed control very little; get over the obsession of the "event" and celebrate the journey; and get on to another venue where you can display your fitness and resolve. Oh yea, don't feel guilty about tipping a few extra to get over the angst.

Keep it real runners

Americans vs Africans

Are America's golden years of distance running over? Will the successes of Frank Shorter and Joan Benoit Samuelson ever be repeated by another American? According to an article in the Wall Street Journal entitled The Africans Are Hearing Footsteps, not unless we put our watches away and our obsession on the science of training in the dumpster.

According to Kenyan runner Felix Limo (London and Chicago marathon winner) American distance runners have been surpassed by Africans because "U.S. runners rely too much on structure and scientific programs". Other sources quoted in the article say Americans don't have the same threshold for pain as the Africans and, oddly, Americans have read too many books and have become too structured in their training.


If I didn't know anything about the sport and its literature I might be so inclined to buy this argument hook-line-and-sinker. True, there is a plethora of science and literature that has entered the sport in the last couple of decades. But too much reading? Too much structure? I don’t think so. First of all the literature the article sites as influencing American elite runners would lead one to believe the author is, well, clueless. He points to Runner’s World Magazine, a magazine designed for beginning runners, as an influence. Runners World? Come on Wall Street Journal, do you think our elites have been sitting around waiting for there monthly issue to learn the top 5 ways to improve their 5k time? Another source sited is the Runners Handbook, by Bob Glover. While he writes good training primers for beginning to advanced runners, Glover's books fall way short of elite training tools. A reference to Jack Daniels or David Costill would’ve lent some credibility.

Let’s face it, it’s not about what runners are doing in America or Africa, it’s about what running means to Americans and Africans. Distance running doesn’t put food on the table in America. It doesn’t lift Americans from a poverty to prosperity. It doesn’t even make us national heroes. If it did, in my humble opinion, the tables would be turned.

Big Bear Sunset

Motivation

It was a sweltering day, 15 years ago. Alone on a steep hill, I climbed. But just as fast as the sweat pored off my skin, guilt was drowning my mind. With a budding career weighing on my shoulders, I asked myself, why am I out here? And just like that, I succumbed.

Motivation. Sometimes you have it, sometimes you don’t. It’s the reason we keep going, through thick and thin, fatigue and frustration. It's how we overcome life's many challenges. Motivation comes to us in different forms and from different places. It is intellectual and emotional. It is in our head and in our hearts. Without it, we are hapless souls, trudging in and out of life's bland encounters. With it we are colorful players on the field, ready to take on the greatest opponents our minds can throw at us.

But where does it come from? Motivation. Are we born with an innate supply of it? Do we learn to "become" motivated through life's experience? This may well be forever unknown. What is known, however, is that motivation comes in different forms. Intellectual motivation, for example, is different than emotional motivation.

Like everything linked to the mind, intellectual motivation comes to us through rational thought. The desire to win trophies, gain kudos from friends and peers, or to be "known" as an athlete. These are all intellectual "motives" to which we often succumb. They are motives of the ego. But are these motives long lasting? Will they get you though the most grueling and challenging times? Unfortunately, they will not. Just like sugar, they'll leave you high one moment, and low the next.

Emotional motivation is different. It runs through your body. It comes from your gut, enters the spine, then without warning seeps through your skin. Before you recognize it, it will give you goose bumps. Wherever its starts and ends, you can feel it. And what's best, it doesn't even have to make sense!

What I've learned is that, unless I can really feel the motivation to do something big, I'm better off not even attempting to do it. The fact is I've been motivated by my ego to beat my marathon PR that has stood for 16 years, but I am yet to feel that I can do it. Can I still do it at 46? I'm still waiting for the goose bumps. And should they come, my ego will be anxiously waiting.

No Need to Get Away

I was thumbing through some quotes to help revive my vision of where my feet may fall next. I stumbled across this, and it kind of blew me away. Enjoy.

"People try to get away from it all- to the country, to the beach, to the mountains. You always wish that you could too. Which is idiotic: you can get away from it anytime you like. By going within. Nowhere you can go is more peaceful-more free of interruption-than your own soul."

Marcus Aurelius

Western States 100, An Epilogue

This one is hard to put into words. I’m not sure if it is because there is so much to say, or because there is so much I just don’t know how to say. In short it’s been a long road with many bumps and turns along the way, and I wouldn’t have made it without the help of my family and friends.

Saturday, June 27th. 5:00 am. Literally the moment for which I’d been waiting three consecutive years. It finally came. When it did, a crazy, chanting group of some 400 eccentric runners started up the face of Squaw Valley, destine for the small town of Auburn exactly 100.2 miles away. We would travel on foot over mountains, under forests, across canyons, through a river, beneath the blazing sun, and then into the darkness of night. It was a surreal feeling to be there at that moment, with so much anticipation. As I pushed up the mountain, I couldn’t help but think to myself, will I get through this?

Start to Robinson Flat (First 29 miles). From the start at Squaw Valley to the top of the Escarpment, the first 3.5 miles, is the steepest and highest climb of this race. Starting at 6,200’ above sea level and rising to 8,720’, this section had me checking and rechecking my heart rate, which was reading north of 160 bpm for the entire climb, just power walking. This was a much higher rate than I anticipated, which had me a little concerned with some 97 miles to go. Once we summited, I looked back over Lake Tahoe and the surrounding mountains, and felt a nice, important rush of energy.

For the next 26 miles we ran what was for me the hardest part of the course. This was mostly a single track, up and down, winding trail at or above 7,000’. My goal here was to eat and drink as often as possible, avoid overexertion, and try to get through the section with minimal episodes. I knew my body would have to work 20% harder through this section just because of the altitude. All was going well, so well in fact I decided to celebrate by listening to some music on my Ipod. Then, just like that, my left ankle buckled as I was rounding the tight, rocky trail. I felt a sharp pain shoot up my leg. Shit! Did that just happen? I just sprained my ankle and I have 83 miles left to run! I stopped, collected myself, then began slowly walking. My ankle was stiff and in pain, but I could still walk on it. After a few minutes, I started to jog slowly. I continued to feel pain, but it was muted by the endorphins now rushing through my body. I continued gingerly through the most technical sections of the course.



As the miles crept by, my confidence began to return. Having experienced an ankle sprain on a long run before, I knew that there was a good chance the pain and stiffness would work itself out if I continued running. And it did. After a couple hours I didn’t feel the pain anymore and I was able to get back to my normal stride. I deemed this ankle sprain to be a blessing in disguise, forcing me to slow things down for the long run ahead. I continued through the long decent into Duncan Canyon, and then up the 1,400' climb to Robinson Flat. In terms of difficulty, this was not far off from the first climb up the face of Squaw because we were still at altitude. The heat was also beginning to set in. Seeing my crew at Robinson was a welcome site. They made sure I got my nutrition and got me on my way.



The Canyons – Robinson Flat to Forrest Hill (Miles 29 to 62). If there is one dreaded section of the Western States trail, it would be the canyons. Hot, steep and unrelenting, the canyons come in the middle of the course, when the sun is at its highest arch. I knew the heat would be a factor so I loaded up with more water than normal, carrying at certain points 110 ounces in a hydration pack and two hand held bottles, 60% of which I would dump over my head along the way to stay cool. This strategy worked as I never felt too hot, even with temperatures


reaching triple digits and climbing the nasty Devil’s Thumb and Michigan Bluff ascents. What I didn’t do so well was to conserve my quads on the descents. I’d been told by many Western gurus that running with any intensity down the canyons was risky business because my quads could really suffer, which would slow me down later in the race. I moved quickly down these descents despite these warnings. I met my unflappable crew again at Michigan Bluff (Mile 55) and Forrest Hill (mile 62) for a much needed, but quick break. My pacer Rob McNair joined me at Forrest Hill for the rest of the run.



Forest Hill to Auburn (miles 62 to 100.2) – Western States veterans all say that you need to save your energy until Forrest Hill, for it is here where you can really run. The trail is smooth with a gentle downhill and it is the most runable section of the course. I entered the section with some life still left in my legs. As Rob and I continued down the long winding single track I knew every step I took in daylight was a step faster than I could take at nightfall. We pushed under the fading light.

At the end of the Forrest Hill trail we reached the river crossing at Rucky Chucky. Nightfall had set in. Here we crossed the American river, submerging ourselves in the chilly, chest high running water, stepping on boulders illuminated only by glow sticks glimmering beneath the surface. The glow of the lights in the river and a long cable beckoned me across. As I stepped into the water a cold shiver ran through my body. After 78 miles of running, my mind was beginning to slip. The mountain water was a good wake up call. Volunteers were in rafts telling us where to step, and where not to. The whole thing reminded me of a scene in the movie Apocalypse Now, when American Captain Benjamin L. Willard (Marten Sheen) and his men were stuck at night at a bridge under heavy fire by the Vietcong. Lights flashing, people barking out orders. Organized chaos.

We moved up Rucky Chukcy to Greengate, were my fearless crew waited for us. They had hiked 1.25 miles in at 10 pm just to see me wave at them and keep moving. From there we made our way through a very runnable section of the course. And it was here where my quads began to give way. I’d been running some 18 hours by now, up and down tens of thousands of feet of mountain trails, and my legs were now saying enough already! Every step I took hurt. Wait, I remember saying to myself, you can’t give up now! And so I persisted in a fight with my quads for the rest of the night, pushing them as they pushed back. I had to shorten my stride just keep my legs from buckling under my own weight. I continued this battle as Rob and I made our way over the dark undulating trail toward the finish line.



Finish Line – Placer High School. How does one describe the feeling finishing a 100 mile run? How does one tell a story of spending three years to qualify, train, plan and then run a 100 mile race? I don’t know if this is possible. I do know, however, that as I ran the last half mile of this long journey, the pain began to melt away. When I saw the finish line, I could hear my crew and friends yelling for me. It was a moment for which I had been waiting a long, long time. And then, just like that, 23 hours and 28 minutes after taking my first step, I crossed the finish line.



I can't say how much help I received from others to make this possible. My crew, which included my wife Jen and friends Laura, Rob and Jeff, where phenomenal. They met me at every stop throughout the day and night, often hiking long distances just to see me for a minute. They took great care of me. As for Rob, my pacer, I simply couldn't have made it those last 20 miles without him. His words of wisdom along the way gave me the confidence to push through the dark moments. Thanks guys, running 100's is truly a team sport and I had the best team!

Western States Live Webcast

Click here for the live Western States webcast and follow your runner through the course. There are 24 aid stations and each runner must pass a mandatory weigh-in 10 times along the course.

My number is 167.

Don't Ignore the Journey

When I crossed the finish line at the London Marathon three years ago, I had not a clue what was in store for me. After my return, I remember sitting across the table from my friend Jeff Padilla, trying to explain how awesome that experience was. Then, in a moment of weakness, I remember raising my beer and exclaiming, let's do Western States! "Are you nuts" I recall hearing. "You've never run anything over a marathon!"

A few short months later Jeff and I were sitting on a plane headed for Sacramento to run the Helen Klein 50 miler to qualify for Western. We both qualified but didn't make the lottery. Months passed. Should I try again? Why not. Another 50 miler qualifier done, I sent my application, and well, you know the rest.

This has been a wild ride for me. Until then, I never dreamed about running a 100 miler. It seemed absurd, sort of self indulgent, to run that far let alone to train for something that far. But there are two things I've learned along the way.

First, training for a 100 miler is a team sport. There is simply no way one can do it--and I mean "do it" as in learn, prepare, train and then run it--totally on your own. I can't even say here how much I've relied on my wife, my kids, my parents, my friends and other runners to get through this. And I haven't even reached the finish line yet!

Second, to train for this kind of thing I don't think the end can justify the means. In other words, and this goes out to all you runners, if you can't find enjoyment in what you are doing, especially a sport or hobby like this, don't do it. Otherwise change how you do it so you will enjoy it. I've learned to enjoy and appreciate the little things along the way--a flock of geese flying over head, my pacer's endless stories, a tumble down the hill, the breathtaking fatigue that (sometimes) fades to a source of energy, the view from the top of a mountain peak. Would I be the same person if I hadn't pursued this? I don't know the answer to that, but I do know I wouldn't be feeling the nervous energy I'm feeling right now.

Keep it real runners!

Ta-per-ing

Ta-per-ing. vb. 1. To become progressively smaller toward one end. 2. To diminish gradually. ~vt: to cause to taper.


On a warm summer day in 1984, Alberto Salazar, one of America’s most revered distance runners, stood at the starting line the Olympic Marathon. Three weeks prior the race, succumbing to the pressures to win, he tried to “catch up” with his training, rather than rest. When the gun went off and the runners assumed an arduous pace, his dream of capturing an Olympic medal quickly faded away. In his words, he had “the horrible experience of watching the leaders pull away…in the first mile and knowing there was nothing I could do about it”.

On that same summer day, another runner, unheralded and running under the radar, stood at the same starting line. But this runner was unable to run for 10 days prior to the race due to a car accident. That runner was Carlos Lopes of Portugal, age 37. He went on to win the marathon and take home the Olympic gold medal that day, and set a Olympic Record in the process. According to Salazar, its “better to taper a little too strongly, than not enough”.

Have you ever stood at the starting line after months of training, wondering if you’ve rested enough? Too much? If so then you are, indeed, an endurance runner. Rest assured, there is no such thing as the perfect taper. But perfection isn’t on the menu in our sport. But if you’re looking for the perfect recipe here, don’t lose your appetite.

There are some basic guidelines that should be heeded when tapering. The first, like Salazar suggested, is to go into a race a little too tapered, rather than not enough. Pete Pfitzinger, author of Advanced Marathoning who beat Salazar in the Olympic Marathon in 1984, suggests starting your taper three weeks prior to race day, and cutting back your total mileage by 20% to 25% in the first week; 40% in the second week and 60% the week of your race. If you are doing speed work, progressively easing back on the intensity during your taper is recommended. Also be aware that too much time off though can leave your legs feeling a little flat on race day, so don’t turn into a couch potato for three weeks. Taking several full days off during the week of race day is advised.

There is one other thing to remember during your taper, especially for us older runners. Watch your calories! It’s pretty simple, but when you start ramping down the miles you need to remember that your body doesn’t need as many calories. And the last thing you need is to put on pounds before your race! Take this time to cut back and even lose weight.

Western States Training Camp 2009

After last year's oh-so-soggy training camp I was a little reluctant to sign up for another memorial day retreat into the Auburn foothills. Now that I'm back, I will say it was worth every minute. Even though it was just three days, I got in 78 miles of running, learned a ton about the trail and race day strategies, saw some old friends and made a few new ones.



Day One: Robinson Flat to Foresthill. This was the most valuable day for me. I have never been to RF before (last year the buses couldn't get access) so just seeing and running this part of the course for the first time was worth the trip for me. Simple subtleties became roaring realities, such as the mile long climb out of RF that rises to over 7,100'; or the winding, rocky single track trail out of RF that I did a face plant on; or the nearly 4,500' decent over 15 miles from RF to the base of Devil's Thumb; even the three pb&j's, several paydays and brownie I ate at a single aid station that made me feel like bloated chicken ready to blow on trail.



Day Two: Foresthill to Rucky Chucky: This was another helpful day, but it went by quickly. By the time I hit this section of the course on race day I'll be sitting on 60 miles and hope to have some legs left. After beating myself up last year on this section of the training run I calmed down a little. This must have helped as I felt strong right through to the finish including the 3-4 mile climb out of the canyon that we had to do to get back to the buses. I even tacked on a 6+ miler after this run by running the last 3 miles (out and back) of the course that afternoon.



Day Three: Greengate to Finish. 20 miles. This section of the course will be run in the dark and it's the last 20 miles of the course. Oh well, not to worry. After running 58 miles the two previous days, I still felt human. I have no idea how I'll feel at this point on race day so I'm not going to invest a whole lot into what I learned here. It was just a good day running and chatting with others on trail.



For the record, running the Western States Training runs is much more than "training" for the actual race. Its more about getting to know other runners, getting to know and really appreciate the trail, and, ultimately, getting to know yourself. Having come by myself I was able to reflect a bit more on how things worked, or didn't work. I also feel really fortunate to even be in this thing, and running with so many other people I've met along the way makes it all the better. Yes, I had the opportunity to talk and/or run with many: Michelle Barton, Kyle Hoang, Brian Krogmann, Kevin Sullivan, Jen Shelton, Luis Escobar, Jean Suyenaga, Stacey Bunton, and so so many others. I wish Rob McNair, my pacer, was here over the weekend, but sometimes even life gets in the way.

Keep it real runners!

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Born to Run - An Interview with Author Christopher McDougall

Do you wonder, sometimes, why you run? Have you ever felt "in the zone", that you could just keep running when you thought you had reached your limit? What about after a run, have you ever felt on top of the world? According to Christopher McDougal, author of Born to Run, these are simply signs that you are human, and as a human you are born to run. You're equipped to run longer distances than other mammals that run this earth, including dogs, wolves, hyenas, and antelope, to name a few. I recently caught up with author Christopher McDougall, who captured this and a few other very intriguing angles on ultra running in his recently released book Born to Run. Here's what we discussed:

Will -- I was impressed with the breadth of the story you told, particularly how you stayed within the boundaries of endurance running. The personalities, culture, events, science, products and of course your own running experience, you touched on all of this. How did you put all of this together inside one cover?

CM -- Mostly by blowing deadlines. I delivered the manuscript a full year late, an appalling delay even by my tortured relationship with time. The problem was trying to figure out how to cram 3 books into one. Any one of the three main stories (the adventure tale of Caballo’s race, the history of the Tarahumara, or the thrilling research into human-running anthropology) could have easily gobbled up 300 pages on their own. In the end, I realized that this was really Caballo’s story, so he became my navigation point.

Will -- It's been said that endurance is at the heart of all your stories, and you are an ultra runner yourself. Why do you write about endurance sports?

CM -- Man, we can either go facile or very Freudian here. Since I’m constantly butting into either people’s heads and trying to psychoanalyze their buried motivations, maybe I deserve a taste of it myself. So: the snappy answer is that I’m probably attracted to tales of endurance because they’re our great American heritage. Endurance has always been America’s defining national characteristic. Long before we became the world’s tough guys, we were famous for toughing it out. Plymouth Rock, Valley Forge, the Pony Express, the Gold Rushers, the outgunned battlers of the Bulge... our country was founded on the wonderfully democratic notion that anyone could be a winner, even if they lost, just by gutting their way to the finish. That’s why Rocky was sequeled for the 57th time; not because he wins, but because he “goes da distance.”

Every book is some form of autobiography. My grandparents were immigrants from Sicily, Scotland and Ireland. My father was kicked out of the house at 17, joined the Marines, and beat all odds by becoming an extraordinarily successful attorney. You want to talk about endurance, he was running a race with zero margin for error


Will -- Why do you run ultras?

CM -- Same reason as every other ultrarunner: for fun. Sheer fun. Ask any ultrarunner (and by the way, I only qualify for that title by the most generous of standards); anyway, ask any ultrarunner on earth and I guarantee you’ll get the same answer. What could be better than flying through the woods in the dark with the wind cooling your sweating skin? Sheer sensual pleasure.

Will –- The Tarahumara Indians are an integral part of your story. What did you learn from them as runners? As people?

CM -- Take it easy. It’s that simple. That was also the first lesson I learned from the great lone wanderer of the Copper Canyons, Caballo Blanco. He taught me: “Focus on easy, because it that’s all you get, that ain’t so bad.” As runners, most of us are way too focused on the absurd obsession over whether we run 4hours in the marathon or 3:59.59. What difference does it make? That is something you instantly learn from the Tarahumara – their running is communal, playful, efficient and fun. That’s why I think ultras will ultimately be the salvation of recreational running. Once people learn to stop bashing themselves as hard as they can from start to finish and learn to enjoy those middle miles – the way both ultarunners and the Tarahumara do – then I’m convinced more people will really learn to love to run.

Will -- In one of the most intriguing chapters of the book you discussed that man was born to run. This chapter tells us how a biology student, a professor and a paleontologist conclude that we as a species are equipped to run very long distances. They suggest that the evolution has given our bodies very specific characteristics that make us uniquely qualified to run far. This seems like ground-breaking stuff. How did you find these guys?

CM -- lots of legwork and phone calls. The best part of the story occurred when I first called Dr. Lieberman at Harvard. I was desperate to interview him and check out his lab, but he was totally swamped with his own research at the time and said he didn’t have time. Then all of a sudden he goes, “Wait a sec. Do you know a one-armed runner who runs with his prosthetic attached? Most run without it because it sways around. You find me a one-armed runner, and you can come up for an interview.” Turns out, Dr. Lieberman was in the middle of a really exciting experiment on body torque and needed to check the difference between running with an arm and without one. Took me – no lie – 15 minutes to find his guy. 2 weeks later, I was in his lab with “One Arm Will” Stewart, an awesome athlete who holds the course record for the Catalina Marathon.

Will -- Does this theory hold water in the larger scientific community?

CM -- it’s still controversial, but so far bulletproof. No other evolutionary theory resolves so many long-lasting paradoxes about human behavior, like why women get stronger as distances get longer, and why older folks can run as fast as teenagers for ultra distances, and why we somehow feel this urge to congregate by the tens of thousands to run 26.2 miles.

Will -- You interviewed the "young guns", or younger ultra runners, for this book. What did you learn from this group?

CM -- Here’s something that trail great Susannah Beck said about Jenn Shelton: “She’s a barbaric wood sprite. Jenn is happier going for gorgeous epic runs than making some of the tedious choices involved in going for individual glory. I think she is aware that ultrarunning is kind of a goofy sport and winning isn't the most important or interesting thing about it.” That’s the lesson I’ve tried to learn from the Young Guns – go for the gorgeous, forget about the tedious side.


Will -- You talked about Dean Karnazes in your story, a controversial personality in the ultra running community. I've often wondered how one draws the line between enlightened ultra runner and basic capitalist. For example, would you say an accomplished ultra runner who promotes a running shoe, a gel, or even his or her online coaching gig for some form of monetary gain is different from a guy like Karnazes who promotes his own book or other ventures? Where would you draw the line?

CM -- I wonder about that a lot myself. Not so much about dean, who is a far better runner than I’ll ever be, and I sort of suspect he’s a better person. I saw him at the Vermont 100, and he won for all the right reasons – because he was happy go lucky, relaxed, chomping sugar cookies at aid stations, having a ball. I wish I were as genuinely friendly as he is. But one thing I puzzle over is how the running industry, and by that I mean the magazines, shops, and sponsored athletes, can sort of skate by the growing body of evidence that a lot of the stuff we’re told to buy is complete junk. Not just neutral junk, either, but really dangerous stuff.

Will -– Its counter intuitive, but logical, that running shoes can actually increase injury to runners by over protecting their feet. You discuss this at length in your book. Are you a believer in barefoot running? Have you tried it yourself?

CM -- two people I’ll never doubt again: Barefoot Ted and Caballo Blanco. Over time, I’ve realized that everything they’ve told me has been dead on the money. I thought Ted was a little extreme in his insistence on wearing nothing (or very next to nothing) on his feet. After three years of personal experimentation, I’ve learned very convincingly that he’s absolutely right. While writing the book, my old plantars fasciitis came back. I made the same old round of doctors and podiatrists, wore the sleep splint, stretched my calves, blah blah, but the only thing that cured it was going barefoot and re-learning my biomechanics. Now, I’m literally afraid to put running shoes back on my feet.

Will -- Where do you see the sport of ultra running in 10 years?

CM -- the most exciting thing will be not the races so much as the ethos. Go to the Leadville Trail 100 some time, or even better, Caballo’s race with the Tarahumara down in the Copper Canyons. You’ll be infected with a spirit of camaraderie and fun that will change the way you run every mile afterward. I think the ultrarunning approach, if not the races, will come to dominate recreational running.

Will -- You have had a successful career writing about endurance sports. Are there any words of wisdom you can share with those looking to break into this field as a writer?

CM -- blow kisses every day to the internet. Anyone can now go online and practice the art of storytelling without waiting for an editor to give you the go-ahead first. Believe me, I spent a lot of years grinding out tiny little 200-word assignments before anyone was willing to pay me to chase ghosts at the bottom of a canyon.

Post Script: I need your help! As you can see, I don’t write this blog for money…hence no annoying pop up advertising. However I do write to encourage and inspire others. My only way to know I am succeeding is getting feedback from and building a following of readers. If you have found value in this blog post, please leave a comment below and follow my blog by entering your email at top of page or on Twitter by clicking here. 

The 2009 Orange County Marathon--A Volunteer's Perspective

Today I completed my obligatory 8 hours of volunteer service for Western States. While this was an obligation, it certainly didn’t seem like one. I chose to volunteer as a “trash collector” for the Orange County Marathon (what can I say…it was the only job I could find with a long enough shift!). Turned out I did a little more than trash collecting. I handed out finisher medals, carried signs, opened up boxes, stacked crates, moved pallets, lifted boxes, high fived runners, took photos, picked up trash, changed out trash bags…and ate some bananas. This was a very fun and enlightening experience. Having run some 14 marathons and several ultras, it was good to give back a little.







Another great part of the day was the people I met and the friends I saw, many of whom I haven’t seen a long time. Like Mike Friedle, a old running buddy who I shared the podium with (years ago) as a member of team Jimy Jamm, a misfit running team he and I were on that beat the Navy Seals 3 times at the vaunted Volkslauf mud run years back. Great to see you Mike, Chickie and kids, and great 5k run Mike! Kevin and Joe, who ran the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim-to-rim with me last November, both finishers of the marathon. Cindy Dabic and her friend Tory, finishers of the ½ marathon. Debbie Okano, who I haven’t seen for years but to whom I had the pleasure of bestowing a finishers medal for the ½ marathon. Great job Debbie! And of course the ubiquitous OC ultra crowd made an appearance, including the glamorous Greg Hardesty, Alexa, who captured a sub 4 hour pr, Kirk Fortini, running as the official 4:30 pacer for the event, and the Eveready Fred Pollard, our 69 year young Ultra Running Statesman who simply doesn’t know the word REST! He ran Old Goats 50 mile in March, Leona Divide 50 mile two weeks ago, PCT 50 next week and yes, my friends, Western States 100 mile in June. Rock it Fred!





But meeting all the volunteers, I must say, was the biggest treat for me today. It started with Randa Helmers, Volunteer Coordinator “Extraordinaire” who, despite some tense moments, always seemed to have a smile lurking in the face of adversity. Kathy and Kelly, the always smiling sisters, Mayieanne and Kathy, the OC diva runners; there were simply so many people that made this event happen that, as a runner, I never realized but should have. Thanks to all the volunteers that shared the load with me today and made this such a great event for all the runners!

Rock it People!

An Interview with The Man Who Ran Around the World

I conducted the following interview with Serge Roetheli over the phone on April 22, 2009.

Will: Today I’m talking with Serge Roetheli, a man who together with his wife, Nicole, who served as his crew and support, set off from their home in Switzerland in Feb. 2000 and over the next five years proceeded to log more than 25,000 miles, through 37 countries and across six continents. In other words, Serge ran around the world. This is an incredible story about a man and his wife who together overcame challenges that most people would never experience. Serge and his wife sold all their possessions to accomplish this journey.

What was your inspiration to run around the world?

Serge: We left our home in Switzerland to run around the world for three reasons. The first was to be free, the second was to have a fantastic adventure with my wife, and third, was to help some kids. Our goal was to bring awareness of suffering children around the world.

Will: Do you feel you have accomplished those things?

Serge: I do, of course! We said we wanted to do it and we did. We were very confident that we would succeed, and we did! It was the best life to live, not the easiest. But it was the price we paid to live our dream. In the end we raised more than $300,000 for different children’s charities. Our main charity was International Vision Quest.

Will: How did you prepare for this endeavor physically? Did you do any special training?

Serge: There isn’t any special training to prepare you to run around the world. All my life I was preparing for this world run. When I was 16 years old, I started to be a boxer. I was a six-time Swiss Champion, and did the Olympics in Montréal in 1976.

For 12 months out of the year I’m a mountain guide. That means skiing during the winter, and guiding expeditions and rock climbing during the summer. That helped me stay fit and healthy.

I did many runs before the World Run such as Death Valley, which was 100 miles. I ran Europe in the winter from Gibraltar to Norway, which was 4,375 miles; I ran from the southern tip of Argentina to Fairbanks, Ala. in what became known as the America’s Challenge, which was 15,000 miles; and I ran Italy to Milan, which was 1,100 miles.

Doing those activities my whole life helped me prepare for the world run.

Will: What was the longest you ran in a single day?

Serge: I ran 50 miles in one day, that’s a pretty long distance. I had to stop and think- if I have to keep running for five years and not just a week, it’s really stupid of me to try to do the maximum mileage I can do every day. Even if my body can keeping going, I quickly realized that I had to stop after a certain point each day, because I have to let my body recover for the next day, the next week, and the next year!

Will: Did you get injured at all along the way?

Serge: Of course. I say all the time that nothing is impossible if you accept to pay the price for your dream. And we paid a lot of price.

I had severe tendinitis. While we were in South Africa, I had to spend 28 days in bed to recover from it. I also had trouble with my sciatic nerve, and while running through India, a car hit me and I broke a bone in my right elbow. Nicole and I caught Malaria. It was bad for Nicole because she fell into a coma after she got a very bad fever. She had contracted one of the worst kinds of the disease. When I came down with it as well, I went to the doctor in Africa and he told Nicole that if they don’t give me a shot, I will die.

We encountered many situations along the world tour. In Africa, when we arrived to New Guinea that was exactly the night that 508 people were killed because of the civil war in that country. Women were raped and children were crying in the streets. We were lucky to be able to stay in the French and Swiss Embassy. Also, we traveled through the Middle East, four days after Sept 11. It turned out that our visas would not be accepted there because of the increasing tension in that area, so we were forced to change our course. Originally we planned to run through Egypt, Lebanon, Iraq and Kuwait. Instead we went through Egypt (Sinai Desert), Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria where we caught a plane and flew over Iraq and Iran and continued our run in Bangladesh.

Will: Was there ever a time you doubted yourself?

Serge: No, definitely not. I never think in my mind that we would give up- it wasn’t an option to think like that. I don’t want to be too proud, but I knew just one thing for sure- we took the risk to loose everything before we knew we would be successful with the first step. For us it was clear from the very beginning- we die or we succeed and we succeed!

Will: How did you manage your nutrition along the way? Did you have a special diet?

Serge: During the world tour, I didn’t have a special diet. For me this wasn’t a race. I didn’t have to beat some speed time. I was eating everything, everywhere, all the time. We also ate a lot of spaghetti and tuna. The hard part was eating good enough, because when you run 20-30 miles a day, you aren’t hungry. I never had a special diet. I think that is part of what I was trying to prove as well- that you can have a great, challenging, physical experience and use only what the world has to sell you. But, we paid the price for this because we had to visit several dentists all around the world.

Will: What is it about running that attracted you to want to use this as a medium to express your goal?

Serge: I didn’t choose to run around the world because I love to run so much. I do love to run, but I wanted to do something special and unique during my life. We live only one time.

We decided to run, because it would be such an incredible experience and maybe it’s a little bit crazy. Traveling the world by running is so strange and we knew we would encounter strange situations, but that’s what we wanted. We had so many amazing experiences because we ran. It wouldn’t have been the same if we would have traveled the world by car, boat or bike. When you run, nobody believes you, nobody trusts you, they look at you like you are E.T. But, I say, I would rather be a crazy, happy man than a boring man.

Will: How long have you been a runner?

Serge: I started to run when I began boxing at age 16. Like any good boxer, you run to keep in shape. I was running just five, six miles in the morning. After I stopped boxing and was a mountain guide, I was still running, but in a different way. I was running on an alpine trail and challenging myself for how fast I could reach the mountain cabins along the way. This trail connects six mountain cabins. A few years ago, I ran that trail in less than 18 hours, 44 miles with 20,000 feet of slope. It made me feel free. I used to do it with just a small backpack on and be gone for a week sometimes. After that I began running long distances more and more. Now I run just to keep in shape- four or five miles in the evening when I can.

Will: Did you ever run competitively in any marathons?

Serge: I did several races and marathons in Europe. My best time was 2 hours 31 minutes.

Will: You talked a little bit about raising money for children. Can you elaborate?

Serge: Yes, that is true. We raised money for International Vision Quest. If people want to donate they can go to www.internationalvisionquest.com

Will: What do you have in store next?

Serge: I have a big dream on my mind; I want to run on the moon!

Will: What does your wife think?

Serge: I haven’t asked her yet!

Will: She will have to have a different kind of motorcycle to support you up there?

Serge: Yes , maybe we reverse the role- I ride and she runs.

Will: I appreciate your time today, and I want to congratulate you for your accomplishment. It’s a tremendous feat what you have done. Thank you and I hope to meet you one day.

Serge: Thank you and I wish you all the best and enjoy your life!

Just Tell Me This Matters

Sunday 5 a.m. -- wake up (at home), grab coffee, oatmeal. 5:45 a.m.-- throw shorts, shoes, shirt on, out the door at 6 a.m. Jog up to local soccer fields for 10 x 3/400meter pickups. LAX to Boston flight out at 10:30 a.m. Glancing at watch more than usual. I make it through workout with time to spare. No time to waste. Jog home to shower, see my wife, kids for a few minutes. Out the door for airport. 10:40 a.m. flight departs. 7 p.m. (east coast time) flight lands in Boston. 8 p.m. -- arrive at hotel near airport, eat dinner, 9 p.m. in bed, asleep. Monday 5 a.m. (yes, 2 a.m. pacific time) wake up, grab coffee, oatmeal. 5:45 – throw shorts, shoes, shirt on, out the door at 6 a.m. (3 a.m. pacific time). Jog through old town of Revere to the Massachusetts shore for 8.4 mile out and back run. 7:01 a.m. -- stop to crouch down for photo of large shell illuminated by the rising sun. Glance at watch. Time is tight, but I won’t let it control my mood. Seagulls screech over my head and on the sand around me. They’re emboldened by the ebbing tide. They embolden me. 7:10 a.m. I find my stride. Wow, my training is really working. 8:30 a.m. (5:30 a.m. pacific time) I’m off to my meeting. 4:30 p.m. flight home lifts off. 6:11 p.m. -- I write this blog, sitting on the plane, listening to Linkin Park’s “Numb”. It helps my mood. I think of tomorrow morning. It's 5 a.m. pacific time, I wake up, grab coffee, oatmeal. I crouch down at 6 a.m. to lace up my shoes, I pause.

My mind flashes forward. I can hear my foot steps, and a voice. I don’t know who’s voice it is. But it’s familiar. Its reassuring, and tells me something I’m beginning to understand, but haven’t fully grasped. It just tells me this matters.

2009 Leona Divide 50 Mile Run

If you're looking for heat, hills, single track trail, a little sadistic punishment, a down-home race atmosphere, you needn't look beyond the Leona Divide 50 Mile run. This year's 18th annual didn't disappoint.

Jay Grobeson, Scott Sullivan, and Bill Ramsey (each with ten Angeles Crest Finishes) after the Race

Bill Ramsey and I drove to the start around 5 a.m. under a dark, star filled sky. Another reminder of the blistering sun we were about to face in the hours to come. Leona starts at 6 a.m. sharp. To the dismay of runners like me with a GI tract that doesn't wake up until 7 am, this can wreak some serious potty havoc on race day strategy. Unlike last year's debacle, I succeeded in jump starting my system before the start with two cups of coffee made from fresh ground beans Bill and I purchased from Palmdale's own Albertsons the night before. A major coup-de-latrine in my book.

Scott Mills chats with Krissy Moehl (1st female, 3rd overall)

The start of Leona Divide is deceptively steep. It climbs 800 feet in just over 2.5 miles along winding dirt roads. Within the first few minutes my heart rate was pushing 165 bpm, not a good sign with 49 miles left to run. With an eye toward finishing, I pulled the pace back a couple of notches and got into a rhythm. Robert Blair, a fellow Sycamore Canyon 50k finisher, scampered along with me as we rounded through the meandering trail (thanks for reading the blog Robert!). The sun soon emerged and we found no solace from the disappearing shade.

This year's coarse was altered from the standard LD 50 course, with the addition of several miles of dirt road in lieu of single track trail. Not a preferred exchange, but a necessary one due to issues with the many power lines in the area. I will say that this year's course, in my humble opinion, seemed more difficult, mainly due to the long hill added with the out and back. We didn't hit single track trail until mile 25, and when we did it was a welcome site. By this time I had already succumbed to the relentless Tracy Moore, who ran by, then ahead of me so methodically that I was rendered a mere spectator until he simply dropped me on one forgetful trail.

Tracy Moore (4th overall) talking with Michelle Barton (2nd female, 9th overall)

As I was making the long four mile descent down the Pacific Crest Trail after mile 25, I came upon Michelle Barton. We ran along together until we hit the 1,500' climb out of aid station 5, when I watched Michelle pull away from me as she floated up the hill. Knowing that this would be the longest of the climbs on the course, that the sun was beaming in full force, and we had yet another four mile climb to come at mile 42, I hunkered down. I kept moving forward under the sweltering sun as one must do along these long, relentless hauls. Images of Tracy and Michelle still appeared, then disappeared, through the trees before me.

Bill (12 time Leona finisher) and Jay Finishing Strong

Aid station number 7 is a turnaround at mile 35.5 in the race. By this time, if you still care, you can assess where your fellow runners are along the course. Many words of encouragement and high fives can be offered up along this section of the course. Most importantly, after the turn, it's all downhill until mile 42. Scott Mills was on my heels as I pulled out of the aid station, and not far behind him was Greg Hardesty.

After a Great Run, Greg Hardesty Lifts His Hand for a High Five


As I came to the end of the long descent, I caught Michelle again, only to see her dance away from me once again on the last climb. Finally, after a long, brutal, hot, and thrilling run, I rounded the final turn. Before me was a finish line, a clock, many cheering spectators, and a moment to take a long, deep breath of relief. All in all, a very good day - race time 8:15, 10th place overall, 2nd age group (40-49). Average heart rate 153.