Keep Moving Forward then Drop The Hammer!!

5:30 a.m., April 20, 2024

The sun had not yet come up and thirty-something of us lined up under the KH Races banner, waiting for the weather report and final instructions. The forecast had been consistent for the last ten days: lots of sun. The only thing that changed was the temperature. Every time I checked, it seemed to go up. High seventies, then low eighties, then mid-eighties. I'm pretty sure it reached over 85 degrees, with heat indices above 90. That might not sound too bad, but when you know you're going to be out there from sunup to sundown, with no clouds in the sky and shade as elusive as bobcats at night, it was going to test us.

I had my typical overnight oats breakfast—about 280 calories, 22g of protein—and headed off to the starting line. Tanner, my crew chief was dropping me off, then going to see me off at the start line before we began the day of intermittently meeting each other at the aid stations where he was allowed access.

Vespa was the plan to get me to mile 32, The Agua Dulce Aid Station.??

I made sure to take it easy out of the gate, which isn't that hard because at Leona, you start with a 2-mile tough uphill climb. While 100-mile participants got to start a half hour before the 100K and 50-mile participants, we were also given a very short out and back from mile 3-1/2 to 7 which essentially had us merging back together as we began our journey along the PCT—The Pacific Crest Trail.

As I came back to that point, I saw my good friend Jim L., and in typical Jim fashion, he sarcastically remarked at how fresh I looked and that maybe I was running a little too hot too early. With my signature, big white smile and a sense of enthusiasm, I replied something to the effect of, "I don't think so... I'm feeling great ??." Or was I ???

This seems like a good point to mention that I'll be numbering the aid stations. Due to permits, there's a variety of out-and-backs that this course takes place on, so of the seven aid stations, three of them get passed twice and one of them gets passed three times. Makes for a fun adventure.

San Francisco Aid Station #1 Mile 11

I had been working through a bit of bowel trouble and was grateful that when I rolled up to this aid station, there was a porta-potty right across the street from where my crew was parked. I remember asking Tanner for the wipes which he tossed to me, and I came out a new man. This early in the race, I really didn't need much. I thanked him again for being out there to support me and went on my way.

The next seven miles to the next aid station were either a blur or very uneventful.

Spunky Edison Aid Station #1 Mile 18

This aid station stop was also a blur. To be honest, I can't even tell you if my crew came in. This was not supposed to be a crew-accessible site, but at the last minute, the race director decided to allow crews to get to this aid station with one caveat: they had to park 1.7 miles away from the actual aid station down a very steep, eroded dirt road.

Up to this point, things had been relatively uneventful, and I had six miles to go to get to the next aid station. I continued to cruise along, making what I believe was good time.

Bouquet Aid Station #1 Mile 24

As I rolled into Bouquet, the fact that the sun was in full effect was starting to become apparent. This was the New Basin Blues hosted aid station, and it was awesome to see my friends. Daisy, Laila, and Saeed were running an aid station like only they can. Daisy is a rockstar aid station captain.

This was a no crew-accessible aid station, so after Saeed helped me fill up my bladder, I got going to try to stay in front of the heat. Which was futile because I was going to be out until sundown no matter what. At this point, it was also brought to my attention that I was currently in 15th place. Not really sure if that did anything good or bad for me, but for some reason, the fact that that was brought to my attention seems to stick in my head a week later.

The next nine miles would prove deceptive. The first half is pretty much uphill but has a fair amount of shade. Probably more than most of the rest of the entire course. The second half is a whole different story. Time is a bit of a blur, but somewhere in this nine-mile stretch, I believe I went from being ahead of schedule to behind schedule. The sun was relentless as I descended down toward Agua Dulce. The only blessing was that it was downhill. Except somebody decided it would be a good idea to then place the aid station about 100 yards up a fairly steep incline at the tail end of that section. Needless to say, this did not make me happy. I power hiked up that last hundred yards to get to the flat power pole pad that was Agua Dulce.

Agua Dulce Aid Station #1 Mile 33

Agua Dulce is one of three aid stations that we only saw once on the course. It's about a 1600 ft descent in four miles. Which sounds great. Until you remember this is an out and back, so you just have to go back four miles and climb 1600 ft. Not good when the signs of fatigue and heat are starting to set in.

As I arrived at the aid station, I saw my daughter who was there to take photos of me for the day, which definitely provided a much-needed boost. Tanner, my crew chief, was on-site, ready to go, and he was spot on.

So to this point, I'd had little to no calories and things were going according to plan from that perspective, but I might have gone a little bit too far considering the heat. I tried to eat a salmon salad sandwich. Got about a quarter of it down, then moved on to ginger ale and an assortment of fruit from the aid station.

Tanner convinced me to take the ice bandana with me, and I'm glad I did. After a restock of Vespa and KetoneIQ, it was time to dig out of this hole I just got myself into.

This stretch was rough. The first half of the nine miles was a pretty brutal climb, and the heat was relentless. Along the way, I ran into my friends Chad and Jake. Both very strong runners, and they were performing a volunteering duty called safety sweep. It is important to note at this point that Jake started his safety sweep duties at 5:30 when we started, and he was also my second pacer, who would be picking me up this evening somewhere around 9:00 at Mile 68.

A safety sweep's job is to make sure that no runners fall behind them, and hopefully, make it to each aid station before the cutoff.

It was a nice morale boost running into Chad and Jake as I was still well ahead of them.

Bouquet Aid Station #2 Mile 42

Upon arrival at Bouquet for the second round, I was really hot and tired. I sat for a while and consumed as much watermelon as I could. I dunked the ice bandana in the ice water and used it to cool my head.

An ice bandana is a fancy word for a special bandana with a pouch specifically designed to hold ice. You tie it around your neck and let the ice drip down your back. It helps keep you cool on long, hot endurance runs.

So this is where I need to talk about chafing. I don't typically chafe, but that doesn't mean I don't think about it. In my opinion, there are two ways to stop chafing. The first is you lube every possible chafing area to eliminate the friction. The second is you just keep everything from moving too much. Since I've never been a fan of any kind of greasy, slimy liquid placed anywhere on my body, I go with the second. It's why I wear those fancy racing tight shorts. Not because I think they look great on me. They also provide great pockets for holding your phone and extra gels that you also don't want moving around while you're running.

So why all this talk about chafing? Well, shortly after I left the aid station with that big bag of ice strapped to my back, it proceeded to melt. A lot. The water created by the melting ice cascaded down my back in such volumes that the backside of my shorts very quickly became soaking wet. Thereby killing my efforts to avoid the movement that would potentially create chafing. Chafing can be a race killer. It's probably second only to gut issues.

Within a mile of leaving that aid station, the chafing had begun. Looking back on it now as I write this, this may have been the beginning of the problems with my ankle. More on that later. I started having to run and walk weirdly to slow the spread and severity of the chafing. The next five or six miles were horrible. My ankle started to throb, the heat of the day was upon me, and if I didn't solve this chafing problem, I was in big trouble. I better come up with something…

FAST!!

C'MON MIKE IMPROVISE!!

Runners typically carry something around their wrist to wipe sweat and snot from their face on long runs like this. I usually carry two. One is an old sock where I cut the toes off and make it like a thumb sleeve, and the other is a loose-fitting, softer cloth referred to as a buff.

They often say ultramarathons come down to problem-solving. I had a problem, I was feeling it, I accepted this problem. It was not going to go away if I didn't do something about it.? I came up with a way to solve it, and I fixed it. I took that sock sleeve off my wrist and wedged it between my butt cheeks. I'll spare you any details beyond that, but you can imagine; it was very effective. I was quite proud of myself. It did not, however, fix my ankle or my bigger problem… My Mindset. At this point in time, it was not amazing, to say the least.

All I could focus on was every reason why I needed to quit. And just then I could hear the cheering from the volunteers at the Spunky Edison Aid Station. As soon as they saw me, their cheers got louder and more raucous.

I, however, had barely the energy to even high-five the volunteers as I locked eyes with them. I staggered into the aid station. Found my crew chief and crashed into a chair.

Spunky Edison Aid Station #2 Mile 49

Tanner: "What do you need?"

Me: "I need to quit!"

Tanner: "What?"

Me: "I really think I need to quit! My right ankle is killing me."

Tanner: "REMEMBER TOMORROW!!"

I HAD JUST SPENT THE LAST 3 HOURS QUITTING THIS RACE!!

MENTALLY QUITTING THIS RACE!!

How I would tell people it's okay to quit. Convincing myself everyone would be thankful it was over, and they could go home early. I even wrote a social media post about how knowing when to throw in the towel is okay; I wrote it at least three times in my head.

But then I heard that ONE WORD!!

TOMORROW!!

Tanner and I had talked about it when we did pre-race planning. He asked me the best question. He asked me about the whole role he would play. He said to me if I told him I wanted to quit. What should he say to me? He remembered it perfectly.

My friend Jesse said this to me when I almost quit the Cuyamaca 100K.

Why do we do this?

We do this for tomorrow?

For how we'll feel tomorrow.

HOW WOULD I FEEL TOMORROW?

If I quit?

How would I feel tomorrow?

If I push through?

If I finished what I came here to do?

Then Stef, my soft-spoken pacer, whose running abilities are nothing short of a mix of incredible and graceful, asked me another important question?

Stef: "On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is the pain in your ankle?"

I couldn't lie.? Though the quitter in me wanted to lie and say 9; 10 even.

Me: "6-7"

Tanner: "What do you need?"

Me: "ADVIL!!"

Thankfully I had some in my pack because Tanner didn't have any with him and neither did the aid station. Crew access to this aid station was given at the last minute and it was a 1.7 mile hike in for Tanner to get here, so I wasn't quite sure what he had with him after realizing he didn't have the Advil. When I asked and he showed me, I realized it wasn't a lot. He had what I would have needed had things been okay, but because the wheels were falling off the bus, I was wanting more.

I started asking him…

Me: "Do you have my change of clothes?"

Tanner: "No."

Me: "Do you have my flat Coke?"

Tanner: "No."

F**K!! I thought…

Work with what you got right…

He did have my soft flask, which we'd planned to use to store travel Coke in.

At some point, my friends Patrick and Erin had rolled into the aid station. While they came in after me, they were now ready to leave while the quitter, who was living rent-free in my head, was holding me back.

Patrick and Erin started on their way, and Patrick looked back and asked me if I was coming. It was definitely a rhetorical question implying get your ass out of that chair and let's go. Also, by this point, the aid station volunteer started chanting my name over and over again…

MIKE!! MIKE!! MIKE!! It's time to GO!!

So I grabbed the soft flask and went in search of Coke. 7 miles down the road my friend Jim would be at the Lincoln Crest Aid Station… with Coke.

7 miles to Coke.

Magic Elixir Coke!!

Much folklore has been talked about and written as to the powers of good old-fashioned Coca-Cola for the downtrodden ultra-endurance athlete.

It's helped me on several occasions.

As I began leaving the aid station, I turned back and yelled Tanner's name.? When I knew I had his attention, I yelled when I return, can you please please please have a change of clothes and my flat Coke?

THANK YOU!!

Leaving Spunky Edison toward Lincoln Crest was a 2 mile uphill followed by a 5-mile descent. By this point, I had accepted that every descent was going to be followed by a climb because everything this race gives it takes away.

Along the way, Stef kept me moving and kept my spirits up. It was also nice to spend some time with Patrick and Erin. Then it started to level out and the 5 Mile descent was upon us. Stef got me jogging and the Advil started to kick in.

The companionship was great. Eventually, we could see Lincoln Crest Aid Station off in the distance. It was teasing us, though. It's hard to describe, but from our vantage point, we went way past it in relation to where we first saw it, and then it was gone.

WTF!! I WANT MY COKE!!

Finally, after a couple of long drawn-out switchbacks in the road, we saw the aid station, and I went straight to the camp chair and sat down.

Lincoln Crest Aid Station #1 Mile 55

Remember Jim from mile 7? You know the one who said I was looking like I was going too fast and should slow down because I was having too much fun? Yeah, that Jim. He looked at me and said, "You don't look as smiley as you did at mile 7." That's Jim for you. Got to love him.

Jim: "What do you need?"

Me: "Coke."

Stef filled my soft flask with Coke and I slammed it.

Jim: "You want some bacon?"

Me: "Sure."

Two slices later, a refill of my Coke and we were off to climb that 5 mile hill we had just come down.

Thank you, Jim!!

As we began the climb back up to Spunky Edison the sun began to set and it was beautiful and magical. That setting sun would bring cooler temperatures that I welcomed. As we approached Spunky Edison we could hear the cheering volunteers as we approached in the darkness. It was a wonderful sound and I was in for a big surprise.

Spunky Edison Aid Station #3 Mile 63

As we got into the Spunky Edison Aid station, not only was Tanner waiting to greet us, but so was Jake. Jake wasn't scheduled to pick me up until I got to the next aid station, but since I was running a little behind, he and Tanner coordinated and he came along to assist. Just seeing him ahead of schedule for some reason provided me an extra level of comfort. I knew he was there. I knew he was getting ready to pick me up at the next station and getting ready to take me to the finish.

Tanner came clutch again, going back to the car, getting my new pacer and returning, hiking in with my change of clothes and flat Coke.

That might not seem like a lot, but a fresh shirt and a dry pair of shorts at this stage of the game made all the difference in the world. I would have welcomed my change of shoes and socks at this point, but that would have to wait until the next aid station. Tanner did, however, have something more important. An extra sock sleeve for me to wedge again between my butt cheeks to stave off the chafing.

I changed my clothes, refilled my Coke, got into full night mode and got back out on the trail. In that next 6 mi Stef and I passed 3 other runners. I taught her about Sally McRae's,

Pass ‘em Gap ‘em Bury ‘em

When you pass someone in a race shortly after you pass them, you pick up the pace as much as you can for just a short window of time. A push to build a gap between you and them. It tends to bury them behind you so they don't chase you and try to think they can get that position back.

When we passed the third person I specifically told Stef not to gap him. This was Andy Glaze and he reminded us that in a 100 mile race, the real race doesn't start until Mile 70. At this point, we're at about mile 68 or so and I didn't want to risk any bad karma so we just kept our pace and cruised into the San Fran Aid Station.

San Francisco Aid Station #2 Mile 69

This was a fun stop. My daughter was there taking photos, my crew, my pacers along with Patrick and Aaron's crew and pacers were all there. We all know each other really well so they were hanging together and at this point, it was kind of hard to tell where one's crew stopped and the other started. Everyone was just doing what they could to help the three of us keep moving forward as quickly as possible. I changed my shoes as fast as I could, made the exchange of pacers from Stef to Jake and told Jake about passing Andy and my karmic concerns around the possibility of Andy just overtaking me any moment. To which Jake replied, "Andy won't pass you if I have anything to do with it." We got in and out before Andy arrived and before Erin and Patrick arrived.

I picked Jake as my pacer for my first 100 miler for a couple of reasons. We had recently serendipitously met at the Black Canyons 100K in Arizona. It's funny how this community works. I was offered the opportunity, when the weather got bad, to share a cabin with another runner, Bryant. Bryant asked if I was cool if Jake bunked with us too, and next thing you know I've got two new running friends. How amazing is that? As we were departing Black Canyons, Jake in passing said, "Let me know if you need any help at your first 100 miler. I'll see what I can do." So on a whim, I texted him and asked if he'd be available to pace me, and he offered to take me the last 32 mi.

So here I am, Mile 69, heading out of San Fran Aid station with Jake Jackson. The trek out of San Fran isn't easy but it's not long. Kind of goes up and over fairly quickly, about 3 mi, then a nice 3 mile down. Jake and I chatted and talked about all manner of things…

Family - Work - & YES Running!!

as we made the six or seven-mile Trek to the next Aid station.

Lake Hughes Aid Station #1 Mile 76

As we roll into Lake Hughes, we see the entire crew again. Patrick, Erin's and mine. So lots of smiles, hugs and yes, more Coke…. Then off we went.

I had run this next 4 miles before in a training run but I had done it in the morning. It's a climb. The only problem was I was tired and it was 5 miles… or so. At least that is what my sleep-deprived brain counted as we climbed.

We were in the dead of night, following the PCT, with our headlamps and the moonlight shining down upon us when we reached Sawmill Road. From here is a 4 mile descent but again my sleep-deprived brain counted 6.

Both Jake and I were battling our brains constantly falling asleep while we were hiking. We're both fighting to stay awake… remember Jake started at 5:30 in the morning too.

Again another out and back. So as we're descending knowing we have to climb back out this. But at this time it's getting late and we're watching the zombies who are a little further in front of us climb up, some hunched over, some Hands-On knees, as we continued down to the Sawmill Aid Station.

After what seemed like forever, hence the thinking 4 miles was 6, we reached a u-turn into a neighborhood with an epic aid station run by my good friend Sean and his partner Liz. That was probably the best cup of soup I've had all week. Really hit the spot. Warmed us up and got us ready for the climb out.

The thought of the six-mile climb out was enough to motivate me to speed walk back up the road. Staying in front of Jake the whole way. I was more diligent about my tracking miles this time and it really only was 4.

Many of the runners coming down as we were going up looked like the walking dead… Just as I'm sure we looked as we were coming down to those ahead of us going back up.

Jake and I talked about going slow on the downhill back to Lake Hughes for fear of dozing off in the dark and tripping, causing GBH (Great Bodily Harm). We had forgotten that the first section of the trail going back to Lake Hughes was flowing a single track of white sandy like material. With the combination of our headlamps and the moonlight and the friendly terrain, Jake decided to open it up a bit and I decided to try and keep pace. By the time we reached the Rocky single track, the sun was coming up and the extra light along with the sun boosting our circadian rhythm gave us the confidence and energy to keep the pace on the downhill as we cruised back to Lake Hughes.

Lake Hughes Aid Station #2

Upon arriving back at the Lake Hughes Aid station we were feeling light and awake and were told we only had 6 and 1/2 mi to go. Wow!! I thought I had 8. Might not seem like a lot but realizing I had 1-1/2 miles less to go was a bit of a moral boost.

Combine that with Vespa/KetoneIQ/Reese’s Cup/Coke and I was ready to go. I asked Becca to take the bib off my pack and put it on the back of my shirt. I decided to leave my pack with Tanner because with only 6 and 1/2 mi to go my soft flask of Coke was all I really needed.

I was ready for this home stretch. Because of my successful speed walking up Sawmill, Jake suggested I take the front and lead the way. I was definitely up for the challenge. The morning light was in full effect And I took off across the creek and up the trail. This beautiful Sandy section goes for about a mile and a half then transitions to rolling canopy covered single track before arriving back at the dirt road that takes us back to the finish line. We pushed the pace, jogging the uphills and running the flats.

When we finally reached the dirt road that returned to the community center, We had one more mile of climbing before the final 2 mile descent. The total miles were making sense again and shortly after my watch clocked 100 Jake said something very funny…

Jake: “ If you run this last mile in under 8 minutes, you'll come in under 26 hours… If that's important to you…”

Now I remembered very quickly. My original goal was 22.5 hours, When that was out of sight I was hopeful for a sub 24.

So maybe this didn't seem consequential and considering my fastest mile in this race so far was 9:33 And to this point I was averaging 15:26…

It seemed more than consequential…

It seemed a bit audacious…

So, I said nope, Not that important…

………………………………………….

THE HELL I DID!!

I DROPPED THE F**KING HAMMER!!

I knew I just needed to stay in front of Jake and he would only push me if my pace went over 8 min/mi.

I pushed away the pain… the tired… the doubt

And can truly say I ran as fast as I could for that last mile. I crossed the Finish line with a final mile of 7:40 And a total elapsed time of 25:59:28.

And when tomorrow came I felt great!!

Mentally anyway… physically it took me until about Wednesday to get back to normal!!

Thank you so much for reading this story. If you got to this point and you'd like to hear more inspiring stories, please consider following me and signing up for my email list where I'll soon be sending out news about my upcoming podcast!!