Cascade Crest Classic - 2008

Cascade Crest Classic 100 is one of the few 100's that does not require an alarm clock. With a 10 A.M. start time, Robert and I awake before the 6:30 alarm. We are anxious to go by 7:30. Shawn F. down the hall is ready to go as well. So we load up the ugly rental car and head to Easton. The Easton volunteer fire department is serving a great breakfast and we visit and chow down. Matt and Ellen from Colorado are there, Matt at it again after finishing the Tahoe Rim Trail 100 a month earlier. The more sane Ellen is crewing him after her 50 mile finish at TRT. Carl Davies, Shawn Fagan, Robert, and I represent Texas this year. I am also excited to represent Team Traverse of Traverse Trail Running, sporting their short sleeve shirt from Patagonia. It is a pleasant morning, sunny, cool enough to momentarily think of starting in my long sleeve shirt, but I knew better. I have chosen the Vasque Blurs from my shoe arsenal. Race briefing is at 9 A.M., I snap some pre-race photos, get a good luck kiss from Robert, and at 10 A.M. the journey begins.

We head up the road and begin climbing. I have 2 Heed and 2 Spiz refills with me. The plan is to refuel with those about every 10 miles. There is a water station at mile 4 and I top off my bottles because it is there. I pause to take a photo, thinking I would try to do this at each aid station. As we turn onto the trail climbing to Goat Peak, I realize that the climbing is just now really beginning. For much of this climb we are cat and mousing with 2 guys on dirt bikes. They would pass, almost running down runners, I would then pass them while their bikes were overheating. While it was amazing that they were doing what they were doing on this steep, narrow trail, it did become annoying to have to scramble off the trail as they approached and have to listen to their noise and smell their gasoline. I kinda hoped I could beat them to the top, but I did not. I am surprised to pass Carl on this climb. I take photos and enjoy the views.

At Col Butte aid station (mile 11 - 2:48), I refuel and top off my water bottles, joking with the aid station guy about his big jugs, snap a photo, munch on something, and move on.

Dropping down on a dirt road section, I see Shawn Fagan and his braids ahead. I had earlier helped him braid his hair. He is taking it easy on the downhill to preserve his knees. I keep my downhill momentum going and pull ahead of him. At Blowout Mountain aid station (mile 15 - 3:55) I have some ravioli (the chili just does not sound right this early) top my bottles, snap a photo, and move on.

Next comes the Pacific Crest trail. It's a pretty wooded section with some good running. I notice some bees on some of the flowers and try not to piss any of them off, recalling some folks got stung in this section last year. I am thinking I recognize the section where Robert and I helped carry a runner down last year, and sure enough, I drop into Tacoma aid station (mile 23 - 5:57). Tamara and Ariana are there to crew Carl and they help me with my stuff. They take my picture, but silly me, I forgot to take theirs. I think I had a turkey sandwich and coke and was on my way.

On my way again, listening to my iPod off and on as I am mostly by myself. It's fairly warm and I keep pushing fluids. I encounter Matt, who seems to be struggling. He is low on water and wondering where the next aid station is. I think a mile or 2, judging from my Garmin, but not sure allowing for the variance from the tree cover. I offer to share water, but he declines. As it turns out, my Heed bottle was empty and Spiz bottle half empty by the time I got to Snowshoe Butte (28 miles - 7:53). I refill my bottles and move on to Stampede Pass aid station (mile 33 -8:49). My best-case scenario goal is staying 2 hours ahead of cut-off and I am only off by 19 minutes, so I am quite happy). The first person I see is Robert. I am happy to see him, but sad because that means he had to drop early in the game. Before the 11-mile aid station he knew his injury from TRT would not let him get the buckle this year. He helps me with my drop bags and to refuel my bottles. I take a Heed and Spiz and my flashlight. I also add the Nathan hydration vest, not for water, but loaded with rain jacket, long sleeve shirt, headband, gloves for nighttime. It seems like overkill, but I do not want to head into the mountains at night unprepared.

In this section, I encounter a woman named Rachel. She passes me and occasionally asks me If I want around. I am really just hanging on to her and grateful for the incentive. I stop to get my flashlight, and she loses me. There is also a woman named Angela who I see off and on in this section. The 41-mile aid station arrives at 10:58. In the next section, a guy comes up behind be, so I let him pass. This section has some rocky areas and small creek crossings. I am hanging on to this guy to get a preview of the footing in the darkness. I ask him if he minds and he is ok with it. To Olallie Meadows aid station (mile 47 - 13:15) I stop to enjoy the famous, yummy pirogues, refuel the bottles, and am off again.

Onward I go through the night, and I encounter a steep downhill section of a mile or more that reminds me of the hill of life on steroids. And then the anticipated "ropes": basically a bushwhack down a very steep section with ropes tied to trees to guide you and somewhat support you. An aid station volunteer told me she preferred not to use gloves, so I did not, but was kinda wanting them by the end. Holding the rope while juggling the flashlight and water bottle was a trick - I almost stopped to put on my headlamp but figured it could not be too much further. I finally reach the bottom, then run for a bit to arrive and the also anticipated tunnel: 2 miles through an old train tunnel. The entrance and exit both had water seeping and dripping and for a short distance inside water was dripping almost like rain. The temperature was probably cooler in here than all night on the trail. Footing was fairly smooth, but about halfway through a new player in my running game joined in: pain in my right outside knee. IT band, I think? Gee, I hope not. It helps to stop and rub it and to walk a bit. I finally exit the tunnel and soon come upon pavement. There were not many glow sticks but I spotted the orange arrows and kept going. At last, I crossed over to where I could see the Hyak aid station and lots of friendly faces. (mile 53 - 15:07); only 7 minutes off the best case goal!! Robert, Tamara, and Ellen are all there to help.

So here I am at mile 53. I change into dry socks and re-bandage the open blister on the top of my left big toe. I also have hot spots on the inner side of both heels, not bad and also nothing much to do about it. My quads already feel shot, my knee hurts, my back yelps at me occasionally. Am I having fun yet? "I just want to get this sucker over with," I say to Robert. I fuel up the bottles, grab a Heed and Spiz for the road, and get something to eat. They have a Christmas party theme going on here. I had noted some mighty tasty looking cookies, etc, on the way in, but forgot to grab some on the way out. Darn. The clean dry socks feel good.

As I leave, I am informed that some assholes have been stealing and moving glow sticks in the next section. An aid station person tells me to go till I hit gravel, turn left, and keep turning left. I head down the access road and after a bit, start wondering, "How far is it to the gravel?" After what seems to be about 3/4 to a mile, I see some gravel, turn in, but it is a house under construction. I go a bit further and find a trail. There are some low limbs, it does not look well used, no glow sticks, and just does not feel right, so I go back to the road. I go further down and still do not see gravel. I do not think I should be on pavement for so long, so I decided to go back to the aid station for better directions, hoping this will not cost me the race. I meet up with Al, who had run CCC 2 or 3 years ago. He was told that the road turns into gravel, but he did not know how far. We see another gravel turn-off with a glow stick hanging just barely past it. We keep going on the pavement, as he is pretty sure we do not turn. We keep going for what seems to be another mile, the road turns into one lane, but still no gravel. Al is now beginning to doubt his memory, we turn around and come upon Rachel and her pacer. He has with him the directions which say the pavement lasts for one mile, so we are all really confused. The pacer runs ahead and returns, having found gravel. Al and I had almost turned around only about 400 yards before reaching it! Thank you Rachel and pacer!

The trail continues for about another 6 miles up a steep dirt road. Rachel drops back and Angela and friend join in. It is around 3 A.M. and I am for the first time in my overnight events falling asleep on my feet. It is a strange feeling. I pop some chocolate covered coffee beans and it is hard to tell if they are helping or not. The loose-knit group climbs and climbs. I have to be staggering. Even though we are seeing glow sticks, I am still wondering if they have been tampered with. At last Keechelus Ridge aid station comes into sight (60 miles - 17:52). I have some coke, refuel bottles, and on the road again.

The course climbs another half mile, veers to the left, and begins descending. I am awake again and reassured after having reached the aid station. Now the course takes us 8 miles downhill on hard-pack dirt road. Should be a quick section, but my knee decided to hurt again and my pre-dawn pees set in. I lose a lot of time stopping to massage the knee, walk, and pee. Al has long since pulled ahead and Angela and friend pass me during all this.

Kachess Lake (mile 68 - 19:43) and I am still right at 2 hours ahead of cut-off. Robert is there to help again. I have been carrying my extra clothes all night and never even considered using them. I was so cold pacing Moogy last year in the upcoming section that I hated to take the chance of dropping my warm clothes. I asked an aid station person, and she did not feel that the weather would change much between here and Thorp Mountain. So I dropped the Nathan pack, keeping just my GoLite jacket and the Moben sleeves and gloves. I switched out the 10 LED light for the 5 LED as it should soon be light. I have a grilled cheese sandwich that really hits the spot, refuel the bottles, and leave with 2 Spiz and 2 Heed.

Robert went out with me down the road to the beginning of the "Trail from Hell". He has been so much help to me. "I think I can pull this thing off," I say to him as I move on.

Entering the trail from hell is a small scramble up a dirt path to a section that is not much more than a bushwhack. It is almost light, but the flashlight still helps out somewhat in the tree cover. The first 1/2 mile to mile (it is hard to judge at this mental state and the condition of the trail) is basically a narrow cut into the slope of the mountainside. There are many fallen trees to go over or under, the quads not too crazy about either choice. I maneuver this for a while, then the trail picks up a wide, groomed section, but as I remember from last year, not for long. The rest of this section is not as tricky as the first part, but still is rocky, gnarly section with short steep ups and downs and fallen trees to navigate. It hugs the side of Kachess Lake and I am looking for the log Lynn B. helped me cross last year. It is a huge log/tree, maybe 12-18 inches and rather flat on the top side, but has an 8-12 inch tall limb/stump about 3/4 of the way across. The creek is maybe 15 feet below. You can cross by going down and up the creek bed about 10 yards further down the trail. I opted for this crossing (as Moogy did last year) even though I had been all year training for the log by walking on curbs and jumping over imaginary bumps. But the bump was much taller than I remembered and the legs were to tired to risk it. I had been wondering if this is Mineral Creek. RD Charlie had said we would get out feet wet there, but it was easy enough to cross without getting wet. Further up the trail I come across Chi Ping sitting on a log. He snaps a picture of me and we chat for a bit. He asks me to notify the next aid station that he is dropping. I try to encourage him that he still has plenty of time, but he had started the race less than healed from an injury and was quite happy to have come this far, enjoying friends and scenery, and not make things any worse. I finally arrive at Mineral Creek, which does require wading across and soon arrive at Mineral Creek aid station (mile 73 - 22:30)

I opt for dry shoes (switching to the Merrill Overdrive) and socks here and make another attempt to get a bandage to stick to my open blister on the top of my foot. It is not real big but is painful. I am hoping that the different shoes will rub in new blisters instead of making the current ones worse. The inner heels and balls of feet are annoying and I hope I am now in damage control. While working on this, I do the math in my head. 27 miles left and 9 hours to do them. Although I am over an hour ahead of cut-off, my brain comes up with 15-minute miles. Holy shit, I gotta get moving. I ask an aid station worker if he thinks I have a chance to finish in time, and he says yes, but that I would need to be moving. I have told them about Chi Ping, but he arrives in the aid station just as I am ready to leave. So I finish topping off my bottles, grab the Spiz and Heed from my bag and put the wet shoes away, grab something to eat, and get the hell out of Dodge. The next section is a climb on a dirt road. Crew access is 2 miles up the road, so I figure I need to be there in 30 minutes. I see a road, but no Robert or the squatty little PT Cruiser we have as a rental. I hate to miss him, but I cannot wait. Ten more minutes up the trail, I see him and 2 friends he has acquired. If it is taking me that long to do 2 miles, I am screwed. So I not so politely tell him I am afraid I am not gonna make cut-off, give me some cliff shots, and I need to get on going. He cannot find cliff shots, the blocks are what I want even though I said shots, and keep on moving as he sends me on my way with a puzzled look on his face. I catch someone on the climb, he says he was at this point at about the same time last year, and finished in plenty of time. I am still not convinced, as I am not sure if I will be able to run the downhills or not. I am also quite concerned about trying to keep up this pace with so many hours still to go. The runner cautions me to keep fueling so I do not bonk, and I heed his advice. I pass the unmanned water station about halfway through this section, top off, and keep going. Finally arriving at No Name Ridge aid station (mile 80 - 24:32), I watch the last piece of bread go to someone else, but a turkey and cheese roll-up without bread sounds good to me. There are other runners resting here, none of whom seem particularly in a hurry. I am 1 hour ahead of this cut-off. But I do my bottles and get out as quickly as I can.

The course finally turns off the road onto trail again, leading up to Thorp Mountain. It is about 26 hours into the race and 6 hours to cut-off, and I decide to go ahead and do some ibuprofen the help with the quads on the upcoming downhills. The feet are not bothering me much; I am focused on the clock. I reach the Thorp Mountain AS where one can drop the pack for a ½ mile out and back to the top of the mountain. I am still pushing hard and passing runners here and there. At the top, I enjoy the beautiful view of Mt. Ranier, and briefly chat with a guy who is also concerned about the finish cut-off. After all this, I want that damn buckle!! I get back to aid station, mile 84, get my stuff, nibble some munchies and see the lady I saw at the packet pick up at the start and of whom I requested good views at the top this year. I thanked her for them and she smiled and said, "Oh that was you! Are you coming back next year?" I reply, "This is not a good time to ask that question. I am not done having the baby yet."

On the way again, it is time for the last of the big climbs, the cardiac needles. It is a beautiful but difficult section. I took Moogy's photo in this section last year, and it has been on my screen saver since, but I am not quite able to recognize the exact spot. After a couple of the climbs, I ask a runner if he know for sure if these are the needles, or are they after the next aid station. He says they are after. Holy smokes. How am I gonna do this? However, another runner I encounter just before French Cabin aid station assures me we are in the needles. There are 3 before and one after French Cabin. During the nice downhill into French Cabin (mile 88 - 27:24), I keep thinking I am seeing the aid station, but I think some of the glimpses of large white rocks through the trees were playing tricks on my feeble brain. I finally do arrive to a friendly group of volunteers, and have one of the best things I have ever had at an aid station, a bacon and grilled cheese sandwich on whole wheat. Wow, it was good!!

I leave there with 88 miles done, and a slight rain starts. It actually feels pretty good, but knowing that a mountain rain can turn very cold, I decide to stop and put on my go-lite rain jacket. The fellow who was correct about the cardiac needles catches up to me and points out a saddle and the last needle AND the last climb of the race! Sweet! I am starting to get hot in the jacket. (I had run up to this point including all night with just a short sleeve shirt and shorts.) The rain has let up though, so I stop to remove the jacket. Past the last of the needles, there is mainly a series of downhills. A guy named Dennis, who I had passed earlier, now passes me, having found his second wind. We feed off each other's energy and run off and on together for the remaining miles. It has now become apparent that I am able to run the downhill, and time is not so pressing. We went though a section where there had been an avalanche during the winter, and had a bit more log crawling. And finally we arrive at the steep downhill switchbacks leading to the last aid station. Dennis keeps saying there are only about 2 more switchbacks, but they keep coming for a long time. The trail finally levels out at we arrive at Silver Creek aid station (mile 95 - 29:40). I think I hear the aid station lady say they have no food, so I reach for my Cliff Blocks. The aid station guy says, "You gonna eat that? How about some brie?" I look around and there is all kinds of yummy food. So I have some brie and crackers. I should have asked for wine, they probably would have had it!! Dennis and I head out together and soon come upon dusty road beneath some power lines. We have plenty of time now, Dennis says go on as he just does not like this stuff, and I am ready to get this done. I run/walk as best I can and pass one more person that is content to walk in. Next there is a short wooded section near the highway, then follows the access road for maybe a mile. It is lightly raining again by this time, but who cares? I hook a right onto grass/rocks and follow the railroad tracks another quarter mile or so to the finish at the fire station. I pass by Shawn. He cheers and says, "You are the baddest lady I know!" I reply, "I am the tiredest lady you know!" Then I see Robert at the finish. He snaps my picture, gives me a hug, and gets a picture of Charlie presenting me with my buckle and a print by Leah Jurek. What a long strange trip it's been!! 100 miles, 30 hours, 42 minutes and 4 seconds!

At the fire station, volunteers wait on you hand and foot with buckets of water to wash your feet, food, congratulations, etc. I am a good girl and drink my Endurox before my beer. I figured I had better have that Endurox if I wanted to walk again in the near future!

I would highly recommend this event. The course is beautiful and challenging, the organization and aid stations are great, and Charlie and goes out of his way to make all feel welcomed.