Crewing 100 Miles: Cascade Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to crew and pace my friend in his second hundred-mile attempt.  His first attempt was 3 years ago at Javalina Jundred.  You can read about that here.  When he was admitted into the race early this year, I immediately volunteered to crew.  Being the laid back soul he is, he didn't commit right away to accepting my help.  I reminded him several times as the year progressed.... "Just let me know" ended all our conversations.  And then in June, I got a message... 'we've been thinking... if you don't think it would screw up your training, we'd love if you came up.'

No sooner were the words spoken, and I hopped online to look at flights.  At the time, he still had pacers lined up for the final 48 miles, but then a week or two later I got another message.  'We need to find a pacer for the final 32 miles.'  "No", I said, "They're mine.  I get to pace you."  And so after remaining patient for months, I was in.  I was crewing and pacing for the 2013 Cascade Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run.

I flew into SeaTac on Friday morning and we spent the day catching up and making plans for race day.  We knew this time around would be different.  JJ100 is an easier course, and his race there went unbelievably smooth.  CC100 is a notoriously difficult, mountainous race with difficult climbs, rough trails, and lots of elevation change.  We knew he would finish, but we didn't know how much effort it was going to take to get there this time around....

Our runner, being assisted by his girlfriend/ pacer pre-race.

As you've probably figured out, I'm a type A person.  I am also very analytical.  I am organized, I like to have all the information in advance, I like to be prepared.  I am the ultimate boyscout.  Since running a 100 mile trail race is on my list of goals for my immediate future (aka:  my 2-year plan) I have taken every opportunity to volunteer at races, crew and pace for friends.  I want to see what happens behind the scenes.  When people start to fall apart, how do they pick themselves back up?  I want to know because it is inevitable and I want to (all together now:) be prepared.

So here's my Top 10 Things a Pacer/ Crew Member Should Do:

1.  Be prepared.
We had time the day before the race to sit down and talk about what, if any, expectations our runner had.  We got to hear his plan for nutrition/ hydration.  His thoughts on aid stations- do I sit?  how long do we stay?  I also tried to help his girlfriend plan a little bit for her leg of the race.  Though she had been dating the runner long enough to have been to many races with him, this was her first time directly in a supporting role.  As a pacer, it is important to know your own nutrition/ hydration plan because if you bonk, you are of no use and could possibly become a hindrance to your runner.  (She did awesome, btw.)

We also talked about the elephant in the room.  D.N.F.  What were we to do if our runner brought this up?  Do we beat him senseless until he forgets why he was ready to quit?  Do we baby him and let him drop out?  It was decided that unless he was pulled out by the medical staff, we were to wait at the aid station until enough time had passed that he missed the cutoff.  Since that could feasibly be hours, most of the time the runner would start to feel good again at some point and continue on of his own volition. 

The start line. 

2.  Adopt an attitude of servitude.

As a crew member, your only job is to keep your runner going.  No matter what.  Don't get upset if he asks for something that wasn't in the plan.  You can't know ahead of time everything that you're going to want or need.  Be willing to go the extra mile so that your runner doesn't have to.  Our first crew stop at Cascade Crest was 23 miles at Tacoma Pass.  We were ready with his tackle box of gear but he asked for something that was in the cooler in the car.  His girlfriend happily ran to the car to retrieve the pedialyte for him and we got him back on the trail as quickly as possible.  We were the beck-and-call-girls.   

Mile 23 Aid Station:  Tacoma Pass

3.  Be flexible.

Having not been on this particular course before, we didn't know what to expect as far as time intervals between aid stations.  We could roughly guess, but it seemed that the first part of the course was tough and everyone's times were a little slow.  We had planned to meet our runner at mile 33, Stampede Pass, and then drive to the 53 mile exchange point to try to catch some zzzz's before starting our pacing duties.  When our runner came into mile 33 he said he was going to need us at either mile 40 or 47 to give him his cold weather gear. 

We looked at the map and directions and decided that mile 40 would be our only option as the road to 47 was in bad shape.  (Since we had been driving on shitty roads all day already, we could only imagine what a road in "bad shape" looked like.)  Even though it was only a 7 mile difference (33 to 40), our runner didn't want to carry his gear and we weren't about to try to force him.  We drove to mile 40 (Meadow Mountain), parked the car and napped for 45 minutes and then walked to the aid station to wait for him.  In the end, I'm glad we did because the race was clearly taking its toll on him and I hoped we provided a little pick-me-up. 

Leaving Hyak Aid Station.

4.  Adapt the plan when needed.

At mile 53 (Hyak), I sent the runner off with his girlfriend for what should have been a quick, relatively easy 16 miles.  I drove to the next exchange point, set my alarm and closed my eyes for a couple hours.  I gave myself plenty of time to wake up, eat a little, and be mentally prepared for my pacing duties.  I was parked along the side of the road where the runners were coming down the hill and then into the aid station.  But I convinced myself that I could miss them because it was pitch dark out and everyone looked the same coming down the hill.  Eventually, I pulled the sleeping bag out of the trunk, gathered all our gear and headed into the aid station. 

There was carnage everywhere.  It seemed that this was a popular aid station to throw in the towel, being the last major station on the course with easy vehicle access.  There were people in all kinds of disarray, having been vomiting and stumbling around the forest in the dark.  I rolled out my sleeping bag on the ground, out of the way, climbed in and closed my eyes.  I figured I would hear them arriving or at the very least, they'd see me there and wake me up.  The time I expected them came and went and when an hour more had passed, I started to get worried.  Were they moving faster than I expected, and I missed them?  Where were they?  Eventually they arrived after having taken a wrong turn and adding 6 miles onto their leg.  So rather than 16 miles, his girlfriend ran 22 miles- the farthest distance she's ever done!  (I told her she no longer needed to worry about her upcoming first marathon, she was more than ready!!)  The type A part of me wanted to panic.  Now, instead of hours of cushion, we were 90 minutes from the mile 68 (Lake Kachess) time cutoff, and would be chasing cutoff times for the remainder of the day. 

Lake Kachess. 

5.  Have fun.

Our first 7 miles were nicknamed "the trail from hell".  We were bushwacking, crawling over downed trees, jumping across creeks.  I carried my camera in my hand the whole time and captured pictures of the lake and the morning mist surrounding the mountains.  It was gorgeous.  Though this trail was tough, it was also beautiful and had I not been worried about my runner with 75+ miles on his legs- I would have loved exploring this part of the Cascades.  I was watching out for him, but I was secretly a kid having fun on the playground at recess. 

Just a little bit of the trail from hell.

6.  Be persistent.

Over 100 miles, a crew member or pacer is going to need to be a lot of different things.  Sometimes you need to be a caretaker.  Sometimes you have to be a distraction.  And sometimes you just need to be a reality check. 

Leaving mile 73 (Mineral Creek) aid station, we had 7 miles to go before the final cutoff point on course.  The 7 miles we had to cover was all uphill, a gradual grade on a gravel road.  Switchbacking up the mountain.  I did the math in my head and knew that if we held a strong 20 minute per mile pace we would make it in plenty of time.  I also knew that my runner was struggling at this point.

Climbing to No Name Ridge.

 

I gently but firmly told him that I was going to set the pace and he had to stay with me, and then I proceeded to march my ass up the mountain.  He stayed with me, lagging 25-50 yards behind me at points.  This was my job, I told myself.  I had to get him through that aid station before the cutoff.  No exceptions.  At one point, he seemed to be lacking energy so I encouraged him to eat some food.  It might have been a little more forceful than "encouraging."  I offered him a Bonk Breaker, or some Gel Blasts.  He elected to have a Snickers bar and a few minutes later I hear gagging and look over my shoulder to see him dry heaving.  I keep walking and check back to make sure he is still with me.

  I've been around enough to know that sometimes low blood sugar actually contributes to nausea and sick feeling and if you can just keep the calories in, you'll start to feel better.  And I also know that when I am forced to do something I don't want to do, sometimes I'll be very dramatic about it so that the one "forcing me" is punished just a little.  (I might have faked a few asthma attacks early in my running career to get out of speed work...)  So I worried that his dry heaving was meant to punish me since I was making him haul ass up this mountain.  Either way, he was still moving so I wasn't going to dwell on it. 

View from the climb. 

7.  If you're going to lie to your runner, have a good reason, and stick to it.

The whole way up the hill to mile 80 (No Name Ridge) I promised my runner that once we made it past mile 80 he could do whatever he wanted after that.  He could take as long as he wanted.  The problem was, we were so close to the cutoff, and we did make it... but I knew that we'd be close to the finish line cutoff as well.  And I really wanted him to get the damn buckle.  We made a brief stop at mile 80.  I allowed him to sit down and forced him to eat and drink.  I ate a few pancakes to help get me through the next 20 miles.  With 20 minutes to spare everyone remaining at No Name Ridge, runners and pacers, got up to leave together.  It was like a mass exodus.

The reward for making it to the top.

The next section of trail was called the "Cardiac Needles".  Short, steep climbs and descents.  I really enjoyed this section of trail, and though my runner was a little miffed about me pushing the pace a little ('you promised I could take it easy...') he was doing a great job powering up the climbs.  All I could think about was the buckle.  I had to get him the buckle. 

Descent from Thorp Mountain

8.  Be positive.

Throughout the Cardiac Needles, I offered words of encouragement.  I truly thought he was doing a great job on the uphills.  At the very end of the needles is this absolutely ridiculous climb up Thorp Mountain.  Basically you arrive at an aid station, drop your gear if you choose, and hike up up up a miserable, rocky, steep mountain to retrieve a marker at the top (proving you had been there).  At the top are some amazing views.  I did take several photos from the climb, but I had a hard time coming up with words of encouragement for my runner during this section.  It just sucked.  We got back down, grabbed a quick bite and then continued on the way.  I just kept telling him he was doing great, he was keeping a good climbing pace. 

Coming down from Thorp Mountain

9.  Have a sense of humor.
 
My runner was really suffering now.  We started getting passed by people we hadn't realized were still on the trail.  I thought our group leaving No Name Ridge was the last group on the trail.  I pull out all the stops and deliver my best motivational speech ever.  "Everyone out here is hurting just as much as you are.  You really have to try to take advantage of every flat or runnable section."  It was much more eloquent but you get the idea.  Bottom line is, I finished my speech and my runner picked up his feet in an effort to run, and the first step he took his toe caught a rock and he went flying.  It wasn't funny, really, but for some reason I started laughing and couldn't stop.  I think I was sleep deprived, hungry and tired.  The irony of it all just made me laugh.  I knew how much it had to have hurt.  That jarring feeling when the pain ripples from your foot through your whole body.  But I could. not. stop. laughing.  Eventually I did get a little smile out of him about the whole situation.  My big failed speech. 

Receiving a welcome home from the race director.

10.  Get to the finish.  No matter what.

When we finally reached what was supposed to be the downhill cruise to the finish line, his legs were trashed and the downhill was absolute torture.  My legs were trashed and I'd only been on them for 25 miles.  He was in an enormous amount of pain evidenced by the grimace that had taken permanent residence on his face.  Honestly, it hurt to watch him go through such agony, but I knew the finish line was close.  So close.  When we finally came into town and around the final bend to where we could see the finish line, I got a little choked up.  I got my camera out and stopped off to the side to capture his finish as he went under the same banner as he had crossed to start the race 32 hours before.  His girlfriend was there to greet us and immediately went to work taking care of him (and me!).  She was a godsend.         

Much deserved.  32 hours, 20 minutes, 52 seconds.
 

In the end, he missed the official cutoff by 20 minutes.  He was rewarded a finisher's buckle, and an official finishing time, as was everyone who made it past No Name Ridge and on to the finish.  The bottom line is, we know that had he not taken a detour he would have been well under the cutoff.  We also know that to finish 100 miles, regardless of time, takes an exceptional amount of strength, courage, and guts.  To put yourself out there, at the mercy of mother nature, and be willing to try something just to see if you can do it.... that's why I am inspired to run 100 miles.  I've now seen my friend at what I would consider his very best (JJ 100) and not so much his best (CC 100).  But I also know it could have been a lot worse.  To see him gut it out, and get to the finish line... unless you've been there it's difficult to imagine the roller coaster of emotions and physical struggles one overcomes over the course of a day. 

He didn't reach his goal of qualifying for Western States (due to not making the official 32 hour time limit), so he's looking for 100 miler #3.  I only hope that I did my duty well enough on this day that I will be honored to be part of his team once again.  And some day.... some day.... he will pay me back by being on my crew team....