The Virtual Couch - A Blog by Tony Overbay

Newsmessenger - Halloween Candy 101

2009-10-18T22:31:00.000-07:00

With Halloween just around the corner, I thought it might be wise to address a topic that I am very, very passionate about. Candy. As a father of four living in a standard California cookie cutter neighborhood (granted, a very nice and tidy cookie cutter neighborhood, I don’t want to be accused of driving my home value down any more than it already is!) I stand to bring in quite a haul on Halloween night. And much like a Mafia Don, Big Tony is going to be sure to get a piece of the pie.

Thankfully this year, Halloween falls on a Saturday. To be honest, it doesn’t matter to me if it falls on a school night, I’m going to wet my beak, or get a taste of the action (pun intended) before the kids go to bed regardless so having them not have to pull out of a candy hangover at 7 AM is a bonus. As a veteran now of over a decade sending out my candy minions to do my dirty work, I have developed a sorting system that I’m happy to share with you.

First, all candy undergoes a standard safety inspection. I’m sure we’ve all heard horror stories of razor blades and the like being inserted into Nestle Crunch bars as well as Kit Kat’s and Snickers. And if you haven’t, well, now you have and you can thank me from your chocolate-induced coma later. I remove these “A-list” candies immediately from the kid’s bags and put them into a large Ziploc labeled “Dad” which I tell them is a trash bag. Trust me; these will definitely be disposed of.

Next we run a series of tests on the remaining candies. Tootsie Rolls are bent and squeezed to check for freshness and a Butterfinger or two is sacrificed right on the spot to check consistency, or more specifically, if these were left over from last year. If the kids get home early enough these go into the bowl to hand out to the neighborhood kids along with the black and orange colored taffy. I have a theory that those were made once back in the 50’s and we’re still working off of that initial batch. If we’re too late to hand them back out, they get put into the “eat only when desperate” bag.

You then take your Hershey’s Chocolate, M&M’s, Skittles, Nerds, Runts and Laffy Taffy and put those into an “B-list” pile. These will be in the immediate rotation, meaning they’ll be snacked upon throughout the day in small enough doses that the calories will never really “stick.” Yes, this is another one of my theories. M&M’s used to be put in the “Dad” bag but I took exception with them, or more specifically the packaging. I, for one, don’t find much “Fun” in a “Fun Size” bag that contains 7 peanut M&M’s. It takes me about 5 or 6 “Fun Size” bags to even start remotely having fun and by that time I have a pretty “Pathetic Size” pile of wrappers sitting in front of me.

Finally we divide up the “C-listers” such as the Bottle Caps, Milk Duds, Dots and Smarties amongst the kids. I’ll let them keep the Milky Way’s and Three Musketeers’ as well as the Hershey’s Kisses just so they look like they made out alright. Let me be perfectly clear, the contents of your piles may vary. I once met a girl who loved the Root Beer Bottle Caps and would have clearly put them on the “A-list.” She was wrong, but entitled to her opinion nonetheless.

When the kids were little they tired easily and often didn’t earn their keep. To compensate I learned the fine art of turning off the porch light to preserve what was left in our own candy bowl. But with age and a slowing metabolism my wife no longer wants any part of the Halloween haul so she started buying the yucky candy to hand out so that she wouldn’t be tempted. If you’re looking for quantity over quality, hit my house up right before bed time and I’ll empty the remainder of the bowl in your pillow case for an even half-hearted “Trick or Treat!”

Inevitably, though, too much of a good thing can indeed get old. We’ll hit the candy buffet hard for the first few days and eventually the thrill of the haul is gone. The Kit Kat’s lose a bit of their bite, the Snickers don’t quite satisfy and the Crunch bars aren’t so crunchy. Not to worry, though, the kid’s candy bags quickly disappear only to find their contents magically lining the bottom of their Christmas stockings, my minions, I mean my kids, none the wiser.

Newsmessenger - Just Like the Pioneers of Old

2009-09-17T15:20:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago my wife and I sat down to watch a movie. The one line description on the screen made it sound like a good, suspenseful drama, sure to have plenty of twists and turns. Fifteen minutes later we turned it off. A lady spun around on a bridge with a disfigured face and then all heck broke loose. We realized that we no longer enjoyed being scared as we had early in our marriage. Now, scary is the idea of what goes on at the check up I’m scheduled for in a couple of months when I hit the big 4-0. That’s an entirely different column. But little did we know that the movie was foreshadowing our own real-life thriller that would take place just a week later.

Imagine the horror of being on vacation with 4 young children and suddenly the lights in the pool go out well before the 9 PM shut off time! Don’t get me wrong, the hotel generators kicked in, the outside lights came back on and we were able to finish our swim but it got worse! On the way back to our room we had to take the stairs! And it didn’t stop there. Once in our room, we had to resort to watching movies on a battery powered DVD player. We had no idea how much battery life we had! Oh the horror! The kids were in mortal terror as they played their portable gaming devices wondering aloud if power would return in time to charge the devices when they went to bed.

And the kids weren't the only ones in a panic. My iPhone was down to a 42% charge, my laptop battery showed only one power bar. This was no time to lose my head. I was quick to assume the role of a calming voice. Luckily I remembered that my youngest daughter had brought a headlamp in her suitcase. She likes to stay up late and read. I downloaded a “flashlight” application on my phone that provided enough light to locate the headlamp. It was a gamble, downloading the application would suck precious battery life that we might need later to entertain ourselves with some YouTube videos of cats playing the piano. We called a quick family council.

“Kids,” I said. “We often read stories about the pioneers and the challenges that they went through many, many years ago. Well, tonight we're creating our own stories. Stories that your children, my grandchildren, will someday read and wonder how we ever managed. Yes, it's true, the refrigerator is quickly losing coolant, and if the power doesn't return, our bedtime snacks will consist of not entirely frozen M&M's and not freezing cold water, but we can do this.”

“Not to fear,” I continued. “Our toothbrushes are battery powered and, in a pinch, we can watch the movies and TV shows that we all have on our iPods. I knew what I had to promise next. “If the power doesn't return by morning, I will sacrifice and go sit in the car while my phone charges using the automobile adapter.”

My young son let out a sniffle. “Pa,” he asked. “Will we still be able to swim in the morning?” This was no time to lie, he needed the truth. “I hope so, son, I really hope so. But without power, our key cards might not get us into the pool.” One of my daughters, or perhaps it was my wife, let out a scream! “Wait, aren't the hot water heaters dependent on the power? And what about my curling iron?”

“Honey,” I said. “I'm going to assume the hot water heaters are gas, but we can't be sure. They might indeed be electric, and, if so, we'll make the best of it.” I needed to take the kids minds off their surroundings. I decided I would tell some scary stories by the light of my illuminated cell phone. Stories about music that needed to be rewound, dinners that took a long time to cook in the oven and popcorn that popped in specially designed machines. I told them of records, days without Velcro and the McRib. I was just starting into an explanation of a “Pet Rock” when we suddenly heard the sound of angels...the whir of the air conditioning. The lights and TV came on and noises were coming from all sides. I grabbed my family close and held them tight! “We made it,” I said. “For the last 15 minutes kids, we were indeed just like the pioneers.”

As the kids faded off to sleep I turned the TV on and just had to laugh as we stumbled upon the same movie we had turned off just a couple of short weeks ago. Only this time it was like watching a comedy after the horror that we had just been through.

Tony Overbay is a 16-year Lincoln resident and father of four. You can find more of his writings at www.tonyoverbay.com.

Newsmessenger - This Just In, Walking 6th Grader to Class...Not Cool (But My Crocs Are Cool)!

2009-09-08T09:31:00.000-07:00

Life is full of unanswerable questions. How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? Why do we say, “Bye bye,” but not “Hi, hi?” Why did Superman wear briefs on the outside of his tights? How many grains of sand are on a beach and will we ever know where all of the missing socks go from the laundry? (I do have my theories, but when a grown man references magical elves people tend to turn a deaf ear, and on that note, why aren’t their female leprechauns?). But one answer I do know for certain is when your parents walking you to class on the first day of school is not cool. That would be the 6^th grade.

With four children in school, managing the first day has become a major event. My wife and I divide up the duties of walking our children to class, careful to watch for visual clues of a possible melt down. If we see a tear start to form in an eye, or a lower lip tremble, we know to excite and distract. “Look at that pencil sharpener!” Or “That's the biggest bottle of hand sanitizer I've ever set eyes on!” Or, “Is that a female leprechaun?” We snap a photo, give a reassuring hug and a kiss and quickly make our way back to the car just in case the bravado wears thin and the child second guesses their excitement for the first day.

But this year the big question was who got to take our oldest to middle school? Middle school, land of cell phones and make up. Changing voices and changing attitudes, not always for the better. I won out and was flattered to take my daughter to school.

As I was getting ready that morning I noticed I was more self-aware than I have been in a long time. I felt like I was the one trying to make a good impression on the first day. I don't have hair, so I wasn't worried about wearing it in an out-of-date style. Yes, I have high school dance pictures with some sort of mullet, curls fresh from my Mom’s curling iron peeking out from the back underneath my ears. I spotted a potential problem as I glanced down at my feet. Crocs. Despite my love of the horrible looking gardening clogs I am certain they will be the bell bottoms, or possibly the leg warmers of my generation. My kids will see pictures of me wearing my Crocs and they will wonder if I knew they didn't look good when I was wearing them, the same way I look at pictures of my parents in the 70's and wonder if they knew those gigantic collars, odd glasses and horrible color combinations didn't work on them.

Well kids, let me go on record to say that I know my Crocs look hideous, but in true “old person style” I'll claim comfort over fashion. I have to say, I'm very curious to try on some dark socks with my shorts, they must be comfortable. Or perhaps a t-shirt with some dress pants, grow out a comb-over or let my nose and/or ear hair go for a few months. Take a look around and you’re sure to find these fashions still widely practiced, so there must be something to them.

But I don't believe it was my dress that caused my daughter to stop me in my tracks after just entering the playground, wait, I'm sure it's not called a playground in 6^th grade. We stopped on the blacktop, noticing no other parents in sight! None! I looked like the giant, solitary forehead zit on the face of the first day. She quickly gave me a hug and a kiss and dismissed me back to the car. My first thought was how did I miss the memo? Not too far away my wife was dropping off 2^nd and 4^th graders along with a playground full of other parents. Parking spots, she'd later tell me, were in high demand. I pulled right up in front of the school and found a spot. It was so wide open, as a matter of fact, that I got out and asked the cross guard if I could park there. She looked at me like I was speaking Klingon. Spots were open, people park, that’s the way it works!

How could you veteran parents do this to me? Did you all send around a note telling each other that you most definitely do not take your middle schooler to his or her classroom on the first day?

Luckily I still had my kindergartener in tow, ready for his own debut. I eventually found a spot at his school, fought the crowd into the class and found myself almost encouraging him to hang onto my leg as I prepared to leave, knowing now that the countdown was on. Five more first days of school left in my parenting career and my Crocs and I will simply be waving from the street, granted from an easy-to-find parking spot!

Newsmessenger - Two Lunches Not Better Than One!

2009-08-25T10:13:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you need to just follow your instincts. Like when your wife hands you the milk jug and says, “Smell this, it’s rotten, right?” Or when you hear that all-too-familiar gurgling sound coming from the diaper area of your infant. You know you should leave the room and play dumb, your wife will eventually stumble upon the lad and change the toxic spill that just happened in his Huggie.

My instincts were screaming at me not to eat two lunches last week yet I did it anyway. Well, I tried to. Lunch number one was at Chipotle and it was fantastic. Three glorious, crisp barbacoa tacos slathered in cheese and sour cream. I had an hour scheduled for lunch. I always feel like an hour won’t be enough, but the bottom line is that if you go to lunch on your own, you’re looking at 10 minutes tops to power down pretty much anything. Never does food seem as akin to fuel than when you’re eating alone. Get in, order and get out. Actually that last sentence reminds me of In-N-Out, but I digress.

There I was, fingers covered in sour cream, broken taco shells and shreds of lettuce littering the bottom of my red, plastic basket. I get lettuce so I can think for a moment that some of what I am eating is healthy. I was still hungry and just beginning to wonder how pathetic I’d look if I licked the remaining bits of meat and cheese off the paper lining of the basket when I spotted the golden arches. Yes, McDonald’s was right next to this particular Chipotle. I quickly surmised that this was no accident. Surely this was designed so that folks could easily move from lunch number one to lunch number two and still have plenty of time to make it back to work.

The wheels of justification were turning in full gear in my head. After all, I did go running earlier that morning. And, better yet, when I was done running with my friends I did a couple of extra miles with my remaining time. I had earned it! Apparently my salsa and sour cream-induced state didn’t allow my brain to do the calculations that a second lunch would, in fact, negate the benefits of two extra miles.

But the siren song of french fries was calling me to the drive through and at that time I did what we therapists like to call “detaching.” I went completely on auto pilot and before I knew it I was ordering up fries and a light lemonade. I figured the light lemonade would have a decent chance of washing the fries down quickly to catch up to the tacos. I have an untested, unscientific theory that when you blow your diet, you might as well blow it good! My theory goes something like this. The human body, as amazing as it is, can’t possibly take the time to pull the fat out of the second bowl of ice cream that followed the pie that followed the chicken that followed the hamburger that followed the chips and cheese-filled hot dog (welcome to my 4^th of July!). So might as well throw as much as you can in there once you’ve started! Oh yeah, and regardless of what day of the week you blow your diet, you start again next Monday.

Keep in mind that the entire time I’m doing this I know I shouldn’t be. And that’s when my instincts no doubt had a good laugh at my expense. As I pulled away from the drive through, I reached down into the bag still in my detached state. No fries, just a fish sandwich! I don’t like fish sandwiches! I instinctively reached down to the large, ice cold lemonade and took a big draw…but something wasn’t right! I rolled down the window and spit out the lemonade made, no doubt, with rotten lemons. Wait a second, that wasn’t lemonade, that was iced tea! I don’t like iced tea!

I’d love to tell you that I learned my lesson. That the $3 wasted was well worth the valuable lesson. But instead I’m sad to report I immediately flipped a U-turn and made my way back to McDonald’s, stormed inside with my iced tea and fish sandwich and demanded my correct order. And wouldn’t you know it, they bumped me up to a large fry for my trouble. McJustice? No, more like McStupidity on my part, I ate them all! Now, maybe next time I’ll have time for the trifecta, In-N-Out is just down the road.

Humbled at the 2009 Deseret News Marathon

2009-08-05T07:29:00.001-07:00

“Humility is like underwear, essential, but indecent if it shows.” – Helen Nielsen

I’m not really sure who Helen Nielsen is, and, to be honest, I’m not sure if this quote on humility speaks to my running of the 2009 Deseret News Marathon in Salt Lake City last week, but I like that humility was being compared to underwear so I went with it. The bottom line is, I was humbled.

Let me start off by saying that the race actually went quite well. On the positive note, the scenery was beautiful, I took 8^th in my age group and something like 68^th overall out of 500 or 600 runners. All that sounds swell. When friends and family ask me how I did, I’ve resigned myself to just say that it was a good run. I understand that to many people the overall times and per mile pace don’t mean squat. Running 26 miles is enough. But to the super running geeks of the world, hear me out, I was pretty disappointed and humbled by my effort and I’ll explain why.

Let me throw out some stats that will sound pretty arrogant, but again, this post is tailored to the runners who visit this site. And let me tell you, when I post a Lincoln Newsmessenger column (local newspaper I’ve been writing for now for over 10 years!) the traffic is good. But when I post a running-related column the traffic is A LOT more substantial. So this one, my running friends, is for you.

The Early Days

I used to be a marathon runner pure and simple. I’d run one a year, then I worked my way up to two, spacing them out every 6 months. I started my marathon career running just a hair under 4 hours per marathon (actually my first attempt at the marathon distance I made it 13.1 miles and ran into a Taco Bell and proceeded to eat and then throw up a breakfast burrito, a story for another day) and eventually worked my way down to a Boston-qualifying 3 hours and 14 minutes (qualified by one minute!). I then discovered ultra marathons (anything over 26.2 miles) and proceeded to go crazy running something like 14 ultras in 2 years, including a couple of 50 milers, a hundred miler, a 100k (62 miles) and a bunch of 50k’s. So, here comes the humbling part…a marathon, ONLY 26 miles, that’s a sprint, right! And so I thought.

Goals

I decided I’d set the goal of trying to do a sub-3 hour marathon at the upcoming St. George, UT marathon in early October. I figured all of my ultra training had provided me with a great base of miles to really do some damage at the “shorter” marathon distance. After my last ultra (the Miwok 100k) in May, I started doing some track work, a lot of tempo runs on pavement and I decided to jump into the Deseret News Marathon just to test the legs, see how that speed training was working out.

I had heard it was a tough course, a lot of downhill, altitude, you name it, but I’m an ultra runner! It’s just a marathon! I packed up the family unit and we made it a vacation coinciding with the state holiday of July 24^th, Pioneer Day, in Utah. We hit water parks (Cowabunga Bay) and theme parks (Lagoon). We ate, boy did we eat! My wife and I grew up in Utah so we hit all of our favorite restaurants. We ate at the Training Table (including cheese fries) twice, Café Rio, Su Casa, Cracker Barrel, it was wonderful! Who needs to carbo load, I’m an ultra runner! And, who needs sleep! The kids were excited and every night we stayed out late with friends and family. We had a great vacation.

Pre-race

The night before the marathon I hit the sack around 11 PM, alarm set for 2:10 AM. I actually did sleep a bit and figured I’d catch some sleep on the bus up to the starting line. We left at 3:45 AM from Energy Solutions Arena (where the Utah Jazz play). I had the good fortune, from a conversational standpoint, but not from a sleep standpoint, to sit beside a fellow ultra runner, Gary Holloway. Gary has run several 100’s, including the Western States 100 held in my backyard! We chatted the entire way up the canyon.

I had to add a paragraph here. I was relating the story of sitting by Gary to a couple of running friends this morning during a run and we dug in a bit deeper on what I actually experienced on the bus. First, yes, I wanted to sleep, but there was a small part of me…OK, a big part of me that wanted some rookie runner to sit by me and ask, “Have you ever run a marathon before?” To which I could play the role of marathon master and say that I’ve run 20 or 30 marathons and a dozen or more ultra marathons and then sit back and wax on about various races I’ve run and stretch out the details like “fish stories” (it was thhhiiiiiisss big!). “I remember during my 100 miler, it was 3 AM and my pacer was falling behind. I started sprinting…and then I saw an old lady crossing the street and I saved a puppy, AND a baby!”

So a guy sits down across from me before Gary came onto the bus. Sure enough, he was wearing a t-shirt from some 50 miler, so he, too, wanted to talk about his ultra running I’m sure. A girl sat by him and said these simple words, “So, have you run this before?” To which he replied, “Yes, I just hope my family makes it to the finish. They almost missed the finish of my 50 miler!” To which she fell right in line by exclaiming, “You ran 50 miles!” And he was off! So I was looking for my own version of that I’m sure, and I get a guy next to me who ran 4 100 mile races in the span of a few months (called the Grand Slam I believe. There’s a marathon Grand Slam in Utah, 4 marathons, and then there is a 100 mile Grand Slam, just amazing!)! But again, I was grateful to sit by Gary and hope to see him out there at some ultra in the not too distant future.

We arrived at the start and had an hour to kill so we found a spot and just kept talking. So let’s reset. I’m up some 6,000 feet (who cares about altitude!) on a severely downhill course (who needs quads?) going off of less than 3 hours sleep on a belly full of junk. Sounds like the perfect receipe for a sub-3, right!? Well, I factored all of that in and gave myself an extra 10 minutes. I figured I could get down the hill and across the line in 3:10 and told my family to look for me anywhere between 2:55 and 3:10. Famous last words.

The race started with a severe downhill and I tried holding back. My first three miles came in at 7:29, 6:57 and 7:00. I can’t lie, I could take at least 5 minutes off the day had I not been a bit over hydrated. The total pee count for the day was in double figures, I really need to figure out how to balance that a bit better.

Miles 4, 5 and 6 clocked in at 7:22, 7:14 and 7:39, not bad, but not the 6:52 per mile necessary for a sub-3 and not the 7:10 I was looking at to run a 3:10. We hit a big climb at some point during miles 4 and 5 so I was pretty happy with keeping that pace up a hill, but then again, that could have played into the fatigue later in the race.

Miles 7 and 8 were definitely a climb and those came in at 9:13 and 8:19. I found my rhythm again on the downhill and clocked 7:08, 7:48 and 7:09 miles up to mile 12. But again, I’m nowhere near sub-3 or 3:10 marathon pace! I carried a hand held water bottle from my ultra days so I was able to skip a few of the aid stations along the way which was nice. I made my first stop at mile 12 and it showed, an 8:12. Mile 13 was a 7:17 and I hit the halfway mark at 1:38, far off the 1:31 I ran during my Boston Qualifier in St. George in 2007.

I can’t lie, seeing the 1:38 and knowing I wasn’t going to make up any time kind of took a little wind out of my sails. From miles 14 to 20 I’d keep it respectable with 7:47, 7:34, 8:41 (water stop and pee stop!), 7:53, 9:05 (starting to walk through aid stations every other mile), 8:22 and 9:15.

At 20 miles in I was in a happy place, just not a real competitive place. My legs felt pretty good. I was passing people but I just couldn’t go fast! I started to just settle in and enjoy the race, not a bad thing, but I knew my family would think I fell apart.

Back in my marathon-only days, I inevitably hit “the wall” around 20 or 21 miles and my calves would get so tight! None of that this race. My thighs were sore from all the downhill, but I had felt worse. 21 through the end found me running mainly in the 9’s, 9:15, 9:49 and then an 8:01 (a nice downhill with spectators!) followed by a 10:02 (walked through an aid station) and then a 9:01, 9:04 and 9:59 to finish things off. Well, an 8:33 pace for the last .2.

A lot of numbers, I know, but in looking back at them they weren’t all that bad. I finished at 3:36:26 good for, I believe, 68^th place, 8^th in my age group. I had an overall average of 8:13 per mile, a full minute per mile slower than I had hoped for.

One addition here as I’m re-reading this before posting. I don’t believe I’ll be able to explain this as well as it rolls around in my head, but I’ll try. I kept feeling this odd feeling every time I made it to the bottom of the hill like I was on a bike, and I’m not a cyclist, that I should be able to coast for a bit on the flat sections. I felt like I should be able to use my momentum from all that downhill running to my benefit. But when you are running, you have to, well, keep running! I know it sounds pretty obvious, but it was just an odd feeling and it kept coming back to me over and over, not sure where that came from and I’ve never experienced it before. I’m guessing it’s from all the steep downhill, my legs (and mind) just got used to running downhill so flats just felt…different! Now, back to the story.

I felt fine after and we continued with the vacation later that day with no real ill effects. I was plenty sore the next day, but none of that old walking down the stairs backwards routine. I was able to run again a few days later.

So I’m an optimist, and the optimist in me says that it’s good to get humbled, especially before my “A” race. But is a sub-3 still in the cards for St. George? Hard to say! I think I’ll give it a shot out of the gate and then hold on until the end and see what happens! And hope that the words “indecent” and “underwear” don’t come into play in any way, shape or form.

Newsmessenger - Rejoicing Over Spilled Milk!

2009-08-03T17:33:00.000-07:00

Don’t cry over spilt milk. I have to admit, this adage was pretty hard for me for the first few years of having small children. It seems that there was a spill at every meal, every day, sometimes from every kid. Occasionally I’d be so focused on who was going to spill next that I’d knock my own glass over much to the delight of my family. To my credit, I didn’t get mad on the outside, but if I had hair, I’m sure it would have changed to gray over the frustration on the inside.

But as with many things in life, with age comes wisdom. And with spills come clean ups. Where I once despised a spill, I now look at it as about the only time the wood floor gets cleaned. This is no slam to my wife. We don’t end a day without the house looking like a model home. This is more about me. My job is mopping the floor. I’m not a big fan of mopping the floor.

I used to mop once a week. Then the frequency slowly moved to once a month, once a quarter and now, well, I just wait for the spills. The only problem is that as the kids get older they grow more adept and the spills are less frequent. So sometimes, if I notice that a particular patch of the floor is dirty, I’ll make sure and fill the Kool Aid up to the top, hand it to a kid and then tell them to look at something on the floor. A couple of them still don’t quite have the concept down that you can lean your body and not tip your hand. Spreading a small spot of peanut butter on the floor isn’t a bad way to go, either. We have two little dogs that will take over and leave a pretty nice clean patch. If you’ve never watched a dog try to work through peanut butter, well, there’s definitely a comedic factor, too.

I’ve taken this spill approach into other areas of the house as well. For a couple of years we always had a puppy in the house. Puppies have accidents, so I bought a portable carpet cleaner, the Spot Bot. It literally cleans a perfectly round spot on your carpet. Every accident required a cleaning and before long our carpet looked polka dotted with the round, clean spots it left.

But today, my wife took it to an entirely different level. She spilled a bucket of paint on the carpet in the upstairs hallway. A heavily trafficked area I might add. She lost it, freaked out, went bezerk. She started grabbing wet towels and frantically tried to soak up the paint, but all that she was doing was smearing the paint everywhere. I calmly got up from my desk, went to the garage and fetched the big carpet steam cleaner out of moth balls. I’ve been meaning to steam clean the upstairs hallway for years and just never found the time. I filled it up with cleaning solution and within an hour the paint was gone and you can’t believe how clean that patch of carpet is.

I guess it’s a similar concept to the “company clean.” Sometimes there’s nothing better than finding out somebody is coming over in an hour. That gives you just enough time to go into last-minute panic mode cleaning the house. Better yet, you can bring it on yourself and even have some control of the timing. We recently scheduled an energy audit; a local company will come and run a test on my AC unit, tape up leaks in the air vents and show me where my insulation wasn’t. It turns out there are vents in every room of the house! We cleaned cracks and crevasses I haven’t seen in years in anticipation of the big audit. At the end of the day I ended up saving money, I found an old set of keys, and a pair of shorts I thought I left at a hotel and I went to bed in a spotless house!

This can be carried over to vehicles, too. We use a company that comes to our home to repair our cars. I can pay $100 to detail my car, or I can cut a nick in a non-essential engine belt and pay $50 to have him come over and fix it giving me the incentive to clean my own car.

Overall it boils down to looking at these opportunities as the glass being either half full, or half empty. Regardless, at the end of the day I’m dumping it on the floor.

Therapy on the Run - Pacing the 2009 Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run

2009-07-09T09:32:00.000-07:00

What a difference a year makes! Last year I headed into the Western States 100 Mile Endurance run as a scared pacer, not sure what the last 40 miles of a hundred would look like. Worried to death that I wouldn’t be able to hang with my runner! I pictured me asking him to slow down somewhere around mile 85 eventually telling him to go ahead and finding me drummed out of the ultra community for life.

But perhaps even worse yet, I didn’t have a clue of what I was supposed to do. Then the fires came and the 2008 race was cancelled and my runner, Jeffery Johnston, talked me into running a hundred with him, the Rio Del Lago 100 Mile Endurance Run (RDL). The rest is history (and chronicled in a mere 20,000 words on this very website here), Jeffery hurt his Achilles and I spent the summer training. I wasn’t about to lose my $200 entry fee! I ran, Jeffery crewed and I had a couple of the best pacers one could ask for, Derek Semanski (who ran this year's Western States as well, you can read his write up here) and Theo Wirth.

Fast forward to the 2009 race. Thanks to Derek and Theo I felt like I had a little better idea of what to do. I needed to remind my runner to eat and drink, try to distract him when he was feeling down and hope he never looked back and saw me walking when he thought he was running late in the race. I also had a great experience in my first 100 after hearing nothing but horror stories going in and I was convinced that even though Western States was a lot harder than Rio Del Lago thanks to the Canyons, elevation, the sheer history behind the race, Jeffery was prepared and I knew he could have a great experience, too.

Pre-race

To say Jeffery is organized is like saying a cat has a rough tongue. That’s just the way it is, no changing him, it’s in his DNA. I liked to joke that he started laying out his stuff for this year’s States just a few days after last year’s was cancelled. His entire crew met at his house the Tuesday before the race for lunch and swimming and to go over his crew plan. Newbie 100 mile runners might do well to look Jeffery up and ask for a copy of his crew plan. Neatly organized in colored binders, it had everything from crew and pacer instructions, equipment and food lists, what to give him and when as well as various articles about hydration, Western States history, you name it. Plus, he had tucked in a free 30 min massage coupon to Monsters of Massage for ultra-crew chief Sandra and fellow pacer Monica and myself, sweet!

Nothing was left to chance. There’s nothing quite like understanding the magnitude of running 100 miles like seeing all the stuff needed for the race lined up on a dining room table, from the clothing changes, gels, bottles, tablets, headlamps and flashlights, batteries, foot care kits, all for the sake of helping one runner accomplish what many believe to be a rather crazy goal, running 100 miles. A friend of mine over the weekend commented that he had once rode his moped 100 miles and that seemed like a chore. To be honest I think I could beat a moped in a 100 mile race, especially one of those with the pedals.

Race Day

I woke up shortly after 5 AM after a restful nights sleep knowing that Jeffery was already on his first climb, knowing that he probably didn’t get a restful night’s sleep. I remember the night before my hundred, I slept maybe a total of 3 or 4 hours, not a great thing to do when you’re pretty much guaranteed to be running through the next night (unless your one of the elites). Two nights of little (or no) sleep is bad enough, add to that constant forward motion for 24 plus hours and you become one whupped hombre!

I immediately started looking for Jeffery on the Western States website. The site was being overwhelmed with traffic and response time was as slow as an ultra runner on pavement (inside joke, that’s really slow, most ultra runners complain when they run on pavement). It took a few hours to finally get a sense of where Jeffery was and he was right on target, nice and slow. I had given him the advice to start slow, and if you thought you were going slow enough, slow down. On my own 100 I was surprised at how long my legs felt good, some 70 miles into the race, and I know a large part of that was because I heeded the advice of Jeffery, actually, who told me to do the same. Hey, I can use my favorite line! “The student became the teacher!”

The plan was that I would receive a call from Jeffery’s wife Jeanne as soon as Jeffery reached Robinson’s Flat, roughly 30 miles into the race. He was hoping to get there sometime between noon and 1 PM. He arrived at 12:31 PM, a minute off, but not that bad (I’m kidding, that was great!). My job was to pick up a large pizza from Pizza Guys and head to the Placer High Stadium where Jeanne, and Jeffery’s dad Harry, would pick me up and we’d head up to pacer check in at Foresthill and then go on to Michigan Bluff where we’d wait for Jeffery. I got the pizza and I was on my way (for those new to the sport, the pizza was for Jeffery, not the crew, people eat some crazy stuff when running 100 miles). My wife can attest that I was pretty much good for nothing that morning I was so excited. I went on a short run with my 5-year-old and then got in my running clothes around 9 AM and just kept looking for updates on the website. Meanwhile she painted my son’s bedroom!

I met Harry and Jeanne and they gave me an update on how Jeffery looked at Robinson’s Flat. He was doing great! Apparently the first couple of climbs were horrible. He had essentially been able to train on all sections of the course prior to the race except for those first couple of climbs thanks to the snow so they were brand new and they were brutal. But he was in good shape. I checked in at Foresthill and we were able to see eventual men’s winner Hal Koerner come through in first place followed immediately by, well, nobody! I saw Hal come through the mile 78 aid station back in the 2007 race, he was the first ultra runner I had ever seen in a race and he looked at that time like he had just run 5K, not 78 miles. Two years later, same story, he makes this 100 mile stuff look easy and he would go on to win in an extremely competitive field with a time of 16 hours and 24 minutes, yes, that’s finishing before it got dark Saturday night, some 13 hours and 36 minutes before the cutoff!

We met Monica and Sandra at the top of the road leading to Michigan Bluff and we all made our way down the steep 2-3 miles to the parking area to be shuttled to the bottom. Quick note for future pacers reading this. I had to remind myself all day that I would be running some 20 plus miles that night and that I better make sure I took care of myself throughout the day, i.e. eat, drink, all that good stuff. I bought a Subway sandwich on my way to meet Harry and Jeanne and crammed it down before we headed down to Michigan Bluff. For the rest of the day I had to remind myself to eat and drink, I was so caught up in the day! You’re still going to run and burn an additional 2,500 calories or so that night.

I had never been to Michigan Bluff and it was a pretty wild scene. You’re on a narrow, windy road and all of a sudden you’re met with A LOT of cars parked everywhere with a school bus shuttling people the half a mile to the bottom. We had to park quite a way from the shuttle pick up and we made it to the bus just in time to watch it pull away. So we hiked down to what appeared to be a street in the middle of nowhere with a few houses on it covered with hundreds of runner’s crews along with aid stations at both ends of the street (and “in” aid station and an “out” I believe). There were people in matching crew shirts everywhere and runners coming up the street at that point 56 miles into the race, all of the hardest climbing behind them.

A lot of the runners looked beat. I call them zombies. Actually I didn’t coin that term. One of my favorite online running stores is called Zombie Runner, apparently it’s a look many of us get on these longer runs. The heat, some 20 degrees cooler just the weekend previously, was in the low 100’s and it apparently took its toll on a lot of runners, many dropping at Devil’s Thumb, a painfully long and exposed climb some 9 miles before Michigan Bluff.

Just being there, seeing the runners hook up with their crews was awesome. It made me extremely jealous that I wasn’t running and while I had officially retired from 100’s after my lone 100, I was definitely throwing my name into the lottery for a spot at next year’s Western States (FYI, I retire pretty much after every race only to un-retire a couple of days later). We saw a lot of friends come through, Steve Itano, Matt Keyes, Derek Semanski, Jamie Frink just to name a few. There were a couple of ultra running “stars” to come thorough including Dean Karnazes and, well, OK, that’s the only star I can think of. We were a little bit too late to catch the front runners.

There was a house that was converted to a burger bar at the end of the street and they had internet access. They could give you an update on your runner and at first glance we were told Jeffery should be coming through Michigan Bluff around 7 PM. It was just past 4:30 PM so we had some time to kill and it went fast watching all the runners come through. I tried to take a nap at one point and was pretty successful in falling asleep in a chair, but I would wake every time a runner came through, hearing the cheering. I was curious if I knew the runner so I’d startle myself awake. I did sleep though as a neighboring crew made fun of me for sleeping with my mouth wide open.

If you’ve never watched a “crew” in action just think a NASCAR pit crew attending to a car. Derek came through and he was immediately put into a chair. His shoes and socks were off in a second, his head covered with a cool cloth. His food was replaced in his vest pockets, he was given food and his legs and back were massaged. I just sat there and watched (afraid somebody would ask me to help with his feet, now that’s love attending to an ultra runner’s feet!). We knew Jeffery should be 45 minutes to an hour behind Derek so we spent a lot of time with Derek’s crew (his sister, wife and kids) attending to Derek. Eventually he was up and we walked him to the “out” part of the aid station.

Meanwhile, Jeffery’s father Harry had gone to check on Jeffery at the “Where’s My Runner” station at the burger bar. I happened to turn around from walking with Derek and saw Harry running at full tilt waving frantically as if to say, “he’s here!” I ran over to meet him and he said, “Jeffery should be here around 6:13!”

“What time is it now?” I asked.

“6:13!” Harry shouted and I immediately turned around and ran to get my pacing companion Monica. The plan was for Monica and me to go a few hundred feet up the trail before the “in” aid station (permitted by the rules) to meet Jeffery and find out what he needed so the rest of the crew could prepare the food, foot repair kit, clothing, you name it.

Monica and I started running up the hill, Jeffery was a good 45 minutes to an hour ahead of pace, he must have been tearing it up after the last check point!

Monica and I stood there a ways up the trail welcoming runners in, some looking good, some in a SERIOUS state of zombie! One guy passed a little too close to me and I seriously had a flash back to being a kid watching George Ramero’s Night of the Living Dead (the father of all zombie movies) in black and white. I remembered the scene where the guy in the nerdy glasses and Barbara (“They’re coming to get you Bar-bar-a!” OK, I think she yelled, “Stop it Johnny!” So I’m going with his name as Johnny) were in the graveyard at the beginning and some guy wanders over a little to close and then nearly takes a chunk out of Bar-bar-a’s head. This guy could have easily devoured me and he had a look in his eye that said he just might do it! And trust me, I have a BIG head and Monica doesn’t, so if anybody was going down it was definitely me!

The minutes started passing and we were second guessing Harry’s data. As we’re already a couple of thousand words into this report and I haven’t even seen Jeffery yet, let’s just say that Harry was given the time Jeffery had probably left the last checkpoint, not when he was to arrive at MB so Monica and I stood there almost an hour, with me having to pee the entire time, but not wanting to miss Jeffery if he came down the hill.

I was also impressed with Monica and my skills in pacing spontaneity! Word was that if your runner came in after 8 PM, the pacer could pick them up there at MB. As the clock passed 7:30 PM Monica and I started to hatch “plan B.” Monica was to pace Jeffery from Foresthill to the River and then I’d pick him up shortly thereafter at the Green Gate aid station. Monica was in flip flops, her running shoes a good 3/4 miles up the hill in the car. I had running shoes on, but no light. We were like the crew of the Apollo 13, trying to make a plan using only the tools we had. I had the shoes, Jeffery had two lights in the tote, I could take one. We had an extra bottle, MB to Forest Hill (FH) was only 6 or 7 miles, one bottle would be fine. I didn’t have any Body Glide to protect from chafing, yikes! Jeffery had some, but Body Glide is a bit like chapstick, I couldn’t imagine sharing. But in a bind, if the choice was raw nipples and chafing inner thighs vs. sharing Body Glide, well, I’d share the Body Glide! I could run from MB to FH, Monica could take over her assigned FH to the river and I’d pick back up where I was supposed to be.

Jeffery eventually came down the hill well before the 8 PM mark so we scrapped plan B, but again, I was impressed that we had put it together. Monica and I were worried that he might be a zombie as the percentage of zombie to human coming down the hill was growing! But there was Jeffery, no zombies here! We would learn, however, that for a good 10 or more miles he had been throwing up. Unfortunately this would be the theme for the rest of the race.

Jeffery came into the pit and he was extremely positive. Sounds a bit odd I’m sure but I was proud of him. He was grateful to see his crew and we were working like a team…but I was again staying away from his feet (I was feeding him pizza!). Nothing sounded good and here’s a man who in all the ultras I’ve run with him, and we’re in double figures now, he can eat the solids during a race. I’m more of a liquid and gel man for my calories, but I’ve seen Jeffery put down pizza, wraps, turkey sandwiches, PB&J, quesadillas, potatoes, fruit, M&M’s, brownies, you name it! He was counting on eating all of this and more during this race and unfortunately his stomach decided to revolt thanks to the heat and effort of the Canyons. For those who like the numbers, you can estimate that a runner will burn a good 13,000 calories during the run. Add on there the 2,500 or so you need just to go about your day and you’re talking about filling a 15,000 calorie hole! Sounds great, I know, but not when food starts sounding bad, or, worse yet, you start giving it back to the earth over and over again!

Super Crew Monica, Tony, Jeffery, Sandra and Harry in the background

We eventually got him out of the aid station and he was in good spirits. He was well ahead of the cutoffs and his legs felt good. If he could hold down food this would have been an entirely different ballgame.

Heading to Foresthill

The buses had stopped running back up the hill, so, anxious to put in an extra mile or so after getting excited about possibly pacing early, I volunteered to run up the hill to the car. I hadn’t realized how steep the hill was on the way down. I started running and my legs were immediately tired. Then I felt guilty for thinking about being tired! I had run all of a couple of hundred yards up a hill, Jeffery and spent the day running 56 miles so far in the Canyons! I ran to the top!

We parked at the top of Bath Road, Monica and I were allowed to run down Bath Road, a little over a mile and meet Jeffery at the aid station, then run back up with him. It was starting to get dark, and we were seeing people coming up to the top of Bath Rd. that we knew were close to Jeffery so we threw on our lights and started quickly down the road.

At the aid station there was a memorial set up for Dan Moores, the owner of the Auburn Running Company who had died just a couple of days before the race. Many people, including Jeffery and Monica, were close to Dan and it truly put a damper on the feel to the race. But the memorial was a great picture of him with a pen to sign all around the picture and many people had shared the message that Dan had inspired them. I added my name to the list. I met Dan a few times and bought my first pair of trail running shoes from him. At that time he “welcomed me to ultra running” and he acted like he remembered me each time I saw him.

Jeffery arrived quickly after we got there which was a great sign. We tried to get him to eat, but unfortunately his stomach was no better. On the power walk up Bath he had to stop and go through a round of the dry heaves on 2 or 3 occasions. I felt bad for him, here he was at almost the 100k mark, legs feeling better than he had hoped despite the Canyons but his stomach, something that I’ve struggled with a ton, but that he’s had a lot of success with, was now the thorn in his paw. But again, he was positive, his legs were good and he was almost to Foresthill (FH). Many runners said that getting to FH was the hard part, now the fun kicked in. A lot of downhill, the river crossing and then the home stretch.

Foresthill (62 miles)

We ran another mile from the top of Bath into the Foresthill aid station. This aid station is HUGE and there are a ton of people there. This is one of those moments when the runners truly feel like rock stars. People were lining the streets applauding Jeffery and he was feeling it, running well. His family was there en masse and you could see the excitement in their eyes. His son, wife, Mom and Dad, Mother and Father-in-law down from Carson City, sister and sister-in-law, nephew, friends from church, everybody just had this look of amazement on their faces, he was doing it!

He checked in at the scale and was fine. Sandra had set up the crew gear down the road on the left and Jeffery stopped for a moment and the pit crew went to work. I filled bottles and salt tab bags while Monica and Sandra (saints I tell you) worked on his feet! His family was snapping pictures and giving him encouragement. Monica was ready to run Jeffery down to the river and they were hoping to take advantage of Jeffery’s strong downhill skills despite his thrashed quads.

Jeffery at Foresthill surrounded by adoring fans (well, his family!)

They left and all of a sudden Sandra and I had nothing but time on our hands. We ran down to Taco Tree in Auburn, grabbed some food and made it to stadium just in time to watch the 1^st woman finish. Rookie 100 miler Anita Ortiz came around the track looking strong! 45 year-old with 4 kids, winning her first 100, amazing. We saw a couple of the male top 10 finishers, too (Anita was in the top 10 overall!). We then made our way to the Green Gate aid station content to set up shop and try to get some sleep. It was around 11 PM at this point.

Green Gate (79.8 Miles)

You have to park a good mile or so up from the aid station and, much like at MB, there were cars everywhere. Thankfully Sandra knows what she’s doing. I would never have known where to drive and then where to go if I even found where to park. We humped a couple of chairs, a cooler and a big bag of crew stuff the mile down to the aid station. On the way down we ran into Jeffery’s coach, and ultra marathon superstar Julie Fingar. Julie had just paced our friend Derek from FH to the River and said he was starting to come to life.

We set up shop at Green Gate and I nodded off for a bit until finally getting antsy. Sandra said I could run the 2 miles down from Green Gate to the River and watch Jeffery cross, and then come the 2 miles back up with Monica and Jeffery so I decided that’s what I’d do. The two miles down to the river were great, as people seemed rejuvenated after crossing the river (I used the same old line, “how was the water?” to which most people replied either “cold” or “great!”). I passed uber-blogger Scott Dunlap, you can read his wonderful race report here. He seemed to have similar issues to Jeffery but hung in there to the finish.

I loved watching people cross the river. I found a fairly flat rock just a few yards from the river and watched people for a good hour or so. I saw a few good friends come through which was fun and I also sat and watched a lady literally curl up into the fetal position worrying about her husband, whether or not he was going to make it, if he had dropped, it appeared that he was pretty late and she seemed worried. I really hope he made it? If this rings a bell to anyone (she was wearing khaki Capri pants and had cool, fashionable glasses with dark hair!) I’d love to know if he made it!

Jeffery and Monica made their way across the river I believe around 2:45 AM. They loved it! Monica was dying to run through the river and I didn’t know that when we first set up our pacing duties. I had asked Jeffery if I could cross the river so the plan had been to set up our crew station on the near side of the river, Monica would run him down and then we’d cross and go from there. Then it dawned on me that I didn’t want wet shoes for the last 22 miles and when I heard Monica really wanted to cross the river that changed the plan, and I was grateful for it. We were both happy, Monica for crossing and me for starting my section with dry shoes.

The hike up to Green Gate (GG) was the first time I really started feeling like a pacer! In the next half an hour Monica would essentially hand me the keys to Jeffery and it would be my job to get him to the finish. I started talking to Monica, asking him how Jeffery felt. During my 100 my wife asked me at one particular aid station what it felt like to have my crew chief, Jeffery, and my pacer, Derek, talking about me and how I was doing with me standing right there with no say in the matter. It was odd, but it felt right. Here Monica and I were doing the same thing and Jeffery caught it. He said, “Remember at your race? Pretty funny to be on this side of it.”

Unfortunately Jeffery was continuing to throw up, only most of it was coming up dry. His throat was starting to hurt as well as his abs and back from the force. His quads had left him on all the downhill from FH to the river and his legs were just plain starting to revolt! He said he didn’t have much on the really steep uphill, but on the slight uphill he was OK. He could “shuffle” the flats but that the downs were starting to hurt…a lot. Monica said she had success having him run to landmarks and then taking some breaks. She also found that Sweet Tarts were magical and she handed me the pack. I figured I’d dangle these in front of him at some point to keep him going. The good news, however, is that he was positive! No zombie here. I knew we could do it. I took over at GG and never felt more part of a team. Sandra did her magic at GG and Monica told Jeffery how proud she was of him, that she knew he could do it and we left there feeling like a million bucks. She had given him some soup with a couple of salt tabs opened up in it and some crackers. My job was to get him to drink the soup and eat the crackers. He did his best with the soup and he choked down the crackers.

First lesson as a pacer “on the job.” Praise him like you do your kids when they are little. “Good job eating that cracker Jeffery!” It sounded funny, but the reality is that this guy was having trouble keeping anything down and that cracker just represented 40 calories, almost enough for half a mile!”

I kept preaching how wonderful the second sunrise would be and hoping that it would indeed be the case. Once I hit my second daylight at RDL I had a second wind and truly came to life. Something happened immediately after we started running together, however, Jeffery was running! I didn’t have to pull the “lets run to this landmark” for probably 10 miles. He was starting to move along well. We were talking about the day and I kept saying, “You’re doing it, man, you’re doing it!” I think we had a couple of miles of “buddy high” and it got us half way to the next aid station, ALT. For the super running junkies, Jeffery was very proud of the fact that he was still pee’ing, A LOT, which is a great sign 80 miles into a race. It means the kidney’s are still your friends and that’s essential to keep running, and, well, to live!

ALT to Brown’s Bar (89.9 Miles)

I had my Garmin watch on and Jeffery later confessed that he knew my affinity toward numbers would be a good thing. He said that was part of the reason he wanted me on the last 20 miles, so I would pay attention to pace, cut offs, do the math, etc. He wasn’t wrong. I was loving watching the per mile pace. I knew when we were running below the 24 hour cut off pace, when we got below 30 hour and how much time we had “in the bank.” Only one problem that I didn’t quite do my math correctly and I had us an hour earlier than it really was, as in, “Man, Jeffery, we’re well below the cut off, I think we’ll finish well below 28 hours!” In hindsight that might have been a good thing because we had a great 10 mile stretch despite Jeffery’s tummy troubles. Every 5 mins or so I’d think we were in the zone and he’d pull off to the side and start dry heaving!

We came into ALT and he weighed in a bit light. Jeffery wasn’t going to have any of that and he just told the Dr. that he was fine and he kept moving. I told her that he was drinking fine but food was a problem. She suggested TUMS and I took a handful. Jeffery wanted Mtn. Dew at the aid station and they said they didn’t have any. One of the volunteers, however, said, “I have some!” She poured us some of her personal stash, and again I say, THANK YOU! Calories! Jeffery also grabbed a cookie. “Good cookie Jeffery!” Jeffery took the TUMS and we were out of there rather quickly.

Funny thing happened on the way to Brown’s Bar and it’s stuck with me this past week. We’re making great time, putting money in the bank. I haven’t figured out my time lapse yet and we’re having a great time. The sun is up, TUMS seem to be working and Jeffery is in good spirits. We’re doing it, man! We pass a couple of folks, a couple of folks pass us, no problem. We get passed by a guy with an accent, I won’t tell what kind of accent as to keep his identity safe. He and his pacer seem nice enough. We get a mile down the road and I see him squatting on the trail, OK, MAYBE one foot on the trail one off, definitely not indiscreet. He says something about “look” and I figure he’s found a wounded bird or something so I slow down to look and I ask, “Is everything OK?” To which I realize he’s saying, “Don’t look!” The guy is taking care of business right there a few inches off the trail! I suddenly feel stupid and apologize but the more I think about it the more I think, “No, he should feel stupid, not me!” They pass us later and it was all I could do not to share my thoughts with him. Regardless of his bad decision making skills at mile 88, I still figured this was about him finishing his 100 so I let it go. But even I know you take that stuff off the trail!

We made it into Brown’s Bar, the infamous Brown’s Bar. Music blaring, aid station folks a couple of sheets to the wind, lights strung across a bridge, crazy stuff…apparently at night. We were catching them in the morning and they were wonderful, but a bit subdued. We made it through the aid station quickly and knew we had some downhill to Quarry Road followed by an uphill section to Highway 49, then we could “smell the barn.” We’re doing it! We’re there!

To Hwy 49…A Dark Patch (Cue ominous music)

So far being a pacer was pretty easy. I reminded Jeffery when to take a salt tablet, kept asking him to drink, got him to choke down a gel or two and patted his back while he puked, all the while telling him only about the times that we were running putting “money in the bank” and trying to motivate him when we were slipping a bit. I had also figured out my time error and shared it with Jeffery casually. We should still be able to finish before 29 hours, no worries. I only had to use my “therapist powers” briefly, when we’d hit a steep uphill or something like that.

There’s a pretty nice descent from Brown’s Bar and I knew that would hurt Jeffery, definitely physically, hopefully not mentally. I’ve run this stretch with him a few times before and he flies down it. I stayed with him once, on an official WS training run and I felt completely out of control. This time it was different, picture somebody walking on hot coals, every step and “ouch, eech, ooch!” His quads were trashed! But he kept on down the hill. We reached the bottom of the hill and we started what would be a good mile or more up a slight incline (Quarry Road) to a very long uphill (to 49). We had only been up Quarry Rd. for a minute or two and he hit a spot we hadn’t seen before.

“I’m done.” He said. Just a mile before we had been celebrating the fact that he had crossed the 90 mile mark, just amazing when you think about it.

“No, you’re fine,” I said with no hesitation. But he wasn’t. I started trying all kinds of things, give me more effort, think about how much you have left, run to that tree, I’m getting nothing. He was starting to go a bit zombie on me, not high on the zombie scale, but the part where they’ve just been bitten by another zombie and something has definitely changed.

We were running around several other people at this point and he would come in and out of zombie state. He cracked a pretty funny joke with Deb Paquin about her pacing strategy (staying well ahead of her running challenging him to catch her) and we were trading aches and pains with I believe Georganna Quarles. I’m making this assumption as we’d stay off and on with her the rest of the race and she finished right in front of us. Extremely nice woman and a great help. We eventually made it off Quarry Rd. and started to head up the steep, rocky, single track trail to the Hwy 49 aid station. Jeffery was hurting and this mile alone took us just over 30 minutes. On a normal day Jeffery could climb this thing in 15 or less, but he was hurting.

I was staying positive, but when my Garmin gave me that split just before we reached the 49 crossing, I figured it was time to get “real.” Monica and I had talked to Jeffery and joked that we were both probably the least mean people he could pick to pace, but that if need be, we were allowed to get mean. My kids would probably disagree but I wasn’t really sure if I could get mean. But I quickly did the math and with 7 miles left, if we had another 30 minute mile, well, all of a sudden we would be in danger of not finishing this thing. I shared this with Jeffery and he said, “I’m worried.” I told him I wasn’t but that we couldn’t do another one of those miles.

Highway 49 Aid Station (Mile 93!)

We reached the 49 aid station and there were Monica and Sandra. They both gave me a look like “you better get mean!” and they told me I needed to step it up. They didn’t realize I had just spent two miles trying to motivate and while I knew we’d pull it together, I had to dig deep in my bag of tricks. We made it quickly through the aid station and Jeffery and I discussed the plan going up the hill to the meadow. We had to power up this hill. We had to shuffle the meadow and he HAD to give me two miles of downhill to No Hands Bridge and we’d go from there. We set a tentative goal of getting to the pavement of Robie Point at 10 AM, just 1.2 miles to the finish, an hour before the 30 hour cutoff. In the back of my mind I felt that was pretty darned aggressive, but we needed a goal.

Then something started to happen that again, I’m just flat our proud of my runner! One of the wildest things about ultra marathons to me has been how you can experience a true high and a low and get back to the high again. I’ve done it, Jeffery has done it, every ultra runner has done it. And I swear it something about going longer than the marathon distance of 26 miles. I’ve done many marathons where I fall apart and I struggle to the finish, period. I make it, but I never recover during the run. I’ve run many ultras where I’m done, I die and then I come back to life and feel good as new, over and over again in the same race! On this day, Jeffery would do just this…he came back. We powered up the hill, he was in positive spirits. We had apparently found the zombie anti-venom and his zombie-trance was gone.

We made it to the meadow and continued with our plan. We were doing it, man! We were…WHAM! Jeffery darned near doubled over in pain. His foot! It felt like a rock he said. We took off his shoe (yes, I was touching his foot!) and found no rock, but did learn that his feet were in pretty bad shape. He had just popped a pretty major blister under his toes. Now, go back to Jeffery’s Miwok 100k of LAST year, he started with blister at mile 14 and finished the 62 mile run anyway. By the end of that race he was covering his feet with duct tape just to try and make it to the finish. His feet were two big blisters. I pulled out what was one of my finest pearls of wisdom yet…”Jeffery, now we know why you went through what you did at Miwok.” If you can do 50 miles on blisters, what’s 6 or 7?” I turned tough, I told him I know it hurts but frankly I didn’t care, I needed these next two miles on the down hills.

He started to run, slowly at first. When we first started the descent he was in pain and I jus t kept saying, “Just keep going, you’ll loosen up.” I figured he wouldn’t, but maybe his legs would go numb. Now, I’m not just saying this next part for his ego, but I started looking at my watch and yelling out his pace as we were running, “12 minute miles, 11 minute miles, let’s get under 10 minute miles so I can write it in my race report!” He gave me more and we spent quite a bit of time in the 9 min mile range! He even dipped as low as 8:45 pace on this downhill stretch. Two things happened that sealed the rest of the race.

First, a runner came up behind us and we asked if he wanted by. He said no, he wasn’t running the race; he was just out for a run. We started talking and he told us that he had heard repeatedly that the number of drops on this day was extremely high. That anybody who would finish today was just amazing. I kept saying, “Yep, this guy is amazing, thrown up for the last 50 miles and we’re going to do this thing!” Time wise we were making up some serious ground, I was no longer worried we’d make it, but I wanted to make it easily. Jeffery would ask me how we’re doing, he said a couple of times that he was worried and I let him worry a bit, it sure was working!

Then Tim Tweitmeyer shows up on the trail encouraging everybody on. He’s finished 25 times under 24 hours and won it a bunch of times. He gives Jeffery a knuckle bump and Jeffery says, “I got knuckles from Tweitmeyer!” We had planned on walking the VERY steep last hundred yards down to the bridge to save his legs but Jeffery said, “I’m not stopping at the aid station.” So I grabbed his bottles and stopped while he kept going across No Hands Bridge. Sandra and Monica were there and they looked relieved. I told them we were in good shape and I think they could tell.

Home stretch

The last 3.8 miles are deceptively hard because they are essentially all uphill. Here we are less than 4 miles from the finish, he’s been throwing up, awake for a day and some change, probably a few thousand calories in the hole and we have hills to deal with, not fair and I was prepared to help Jeffery pace himself to the finish. But Jeffery was a man possessed! We must have passed at least a dozen people on this section and we were passed by no one. He was now running the slight ups, all the flats and power walking the big ups. We made it to Robie Point at 10:04, 4 minutes after our goal set back after our slowest mile during our darkest period, unbelievable.

Jeffery and I were power walking up from Robie with a purpose, he was doing it, man! It was then that reality set in and that he was thinking on a brain deprived of sleep, racked with the dry heaves and probably severely under fed. “Are we going to make it?” 1.2 miles, Jeffery, 56 minutes, I think we’re OK.

A little blurry, but Jeffery and I, all smiles heading into the track for the final lap.

Then the euphoria set in and this is the part I don’t want to ever forget, nor do I want Jeffery to forget it. We threw our arms around each other and walked shoulder to shoulder playing a spirited round of “No, YOU’RE the man!” He was all smiles, HE DID IT! We finally hit a stretch that didn’t feel like straight up hill and we started running. We turned a corner and there was his sister, she was ecstatic. He gets to the entrance of the stadium and his family was there going nuts! Monica and Sandra, Jeffery’s Mom and Dad, his wife Jeanne and his son Jason, his in-laws, several people hit the track and ran that final lap with him. They announced his name and I peeled off to the side and watched him cross the line at 29:25, an easy 35 minutes ahead of the cutoff and looking like a million bucks.

Sandra and Monica and I were going nuts, we did it, man! Jeffery’s family was coming up to me and hugging me telling ME thanks, it was just a rush of emotions…emotions that I hope to have in the not too distant future as I now throw my hat into the Western States lottery!

Jeffery crossing the line in 29 hours 25 minutes.

Huge thanks to all those who help put on the Super Bowl of 100’s. Jeffery’s wife and family were amazing, Sandra and Monica could hire out as professional crew and a huge thanks to Jeffery for letting me be a part of this huge accomplishment, one that not many will experience, but those who do will never, ever forget!

4th of July Family Affair at the Roseville Crime Stoppers 5K

2009-07-07T14:11:00.000-07:00

July 4^th is full of many traditions in the Overbay home. For the past few years we stuff ourselves silly at our friend’s annual bbq (this year was no exception, I ate a hamburger, hot dog and chicken to pull off the rare “trifecta”), spend the day swimming and retire to our court with our neighbors to light off what are essentially glorified sparklers until the kids get cranky and fall asleep on the front lawn. For the past two years, now, we’ve added another activity to the 4^th of July traditions, and that’s running a family 5k, even better, having a daughter win the 5k.

This year we again found ourselves along with about 250 others at the Roseville Crime Stoppers 5k fun run. Last year Alexa, McKinley and I ran along with family friend Melinda and we all had a great time. Alexa and McKinley took 1^st and 2^nd in the 10 and under age category (I guess effectively placing me 3^rd in the 10 and under). This year the lineup changed. After 5-year-old Jake and 7-year-old Sydney cut their 5k teeth at last year’s Manda Run, they were excited to put another 5k in their rear view mirrors (and more excited to get the t-shirts!). So it was a family affair! The lineup would go as follows: I would run with McKinley, she again wanted victory and wanted me to push her. Wendy would run with Sydney. At the Manda run Sydney pulled away from Wendy and Jake and ended up finishing the race with a group of women! That left Jake, and Alexa was happy to pace him through the race. Alexa is a very good runner, but isn’t as motivated by the medals. She’s won two races of her own and I think she was happy to lend a hand to her little brother.

We found out a couple of days before that several of our friends from church would be running, too, which made for a lot of fun at the start. McKinley and I secretly set out our plan to try and beat as many of them as possible (all adults) so that she would have bragging rights at church the next morning.

I decided to forgo my usual pre-race run so that my legs would be fresh just in case McKinley found a higher gear. I had run 20 miles on the trails the day before but I was feeling great, and it was a good thing I bagged the extra miles because from the start she was off! Wendy did me one better! She got up early and actually rode her bike to the race, some 14 miles from home (and she rode it back, too!). We were determined to earn the right to eat like pigs later in the day.

Mac and I wished everybody good luck and moved to the front of the pack. As soon as the starter yelled “Go!” we were off at a brisk pace. McKinley’s previous best was at her victory in the Manda Run, she clocked a time on the 3.1 mile course of 29:53. She was hoping to take another minute off her time at this race. I looked down at my Garmin watch and noticed that we were starting off at about an 8:45 min/mile pace, that would definitely get us to the finish in record time but I didn’t want her to burn out.

I carried a hand held water bottle so we cruised through the first aid station at just under a mile. The course was an out and back through old-town Roseville which made for a lot of fun as we could see the leaders on their way back to the finish as we made our way to the turn. Our friend Byron Clement, who finished in 15^th place overall, was the first one we saw and he was looking strong. Earlier in the day my oldest had asked me if I ever wanted to just go to one of those races and go for the win. I told her no, of course not, I preferred running with the family, but admittedly the next day I was sure to check the time of the winner (18:12, yes, I could have beat that!). We made the turn at 1.5 miles and started on a gradual uphill. I kept asking McKinley if she was tired, if she wanted to slow down and she kept shooting me down. She truly makes this running stuff look easy!

As we made our way up the hill we started to see our friends. Next was Trevor Nielsen. Trevor is a good friend and a true “Man’s man.” My guess is that he probably hadn’t planned on getting beat by a 9-year-old when he woke up that day. I mentioned to Mac that Trevor would probably try to beat us and I noticed that she picked it up a little. That’s my girl!

We eventually caught up to Theo Wirth and his daughter Hannah, who would also go on to take 2^nd in the 10 and under category. Theo was my pacer for my first 100 mile run. I beam whenever I see him. The memories of the last 30 miles with Theo are some I’ll never forget.

We then saw Wendy and Syd and they were moving! Wendy told me that Syd ran the entire race. She’s amazing. Even when Syd said she wanted to start running 5k’s I figured she’d never actually be able to run the entire way until she was a bit older. In our trainings we rarely even run a mile, and many of those days the mile run turns into more of a mile walk and we count lizards on the sidewalk, so it’s amazing what adrenaline does on race day.

Syd running by, Mac reaching out for a high five from Mom

Alexa pacing Jake

We then saw Alex and Jake. Alex told me that Jake was doing great and they were both moving along well, too. Mac and I hit the 2 mile mark and she was still cruising along making things look easy. We could see ahead three stop lights and then the turn to start toward the finish. She started counting them down and we quickly made the turn. With about a quarter of a mile to go there was a group of men outside a food shelter cheering everybody on. When they saw Mac one of them shouted, “Let’s hear it for the next generation!”

We made the final turn and she kicked it in, finishing first in the 10 and under age group with a PR of 28:06, almost 2 minutes off her best. You can see Mac's finish by clicking here. Trevor finished 40 seconds later and yes, I rubbed it in the next day! I saw Mac through the finish and then I turned and sprinted back on the course to bring the others in. I heard several comments like “You’re going the wrong way” and “How many times are you going to run it?” When I caught up with Wendy and Syd, Wendy just told me to keep going to find Jake. She said that Syd was doing incredibly well. So I kept running and met up with Jake and Alex a little past the 2 mile mark. They were taking a little walk break coming into the final aid station. Jake grabbed a cup of water and Alex said, “Watch this.” Jake gulped down the water and then ran up to the garbage can, jumped up and dunked the cup in and then took off running.

“That’s his favorite part,” she said.

From that point on we ran it in with the guys at the shelter going crazy when they saw Jake. Syd ended up taking 5^th in the 10 and under division finishing with her best time of 38:32. Jake finished with a personal best of 40:32, only 2 minutes behind Syd and good for 5^th place as well in the 10 and under boys category (and the only boy under 8 years old to finish!). You can watch Jake's finish by clicking here.

Jake finishing strong!

We stuck around for the medal ceremony for Mac to pick up her first place medal. She’s now run 5 5k’s getting 4 medals in the process and winning 2 of them outright. She’s truly amazing, as are the rest of the “Running Overbay’s.”

Mac showing medal to Mom

“That’s his favorite part,” she said Big thanks to J and J Sports Productions for again putting on a great race. We'll definitely be back next year!

Newsmessenger - Anyone in Need of a 5-Year-Old Handyman?

2009-06-23T18:05:00.000-07:00

There’s a song in the 1958 movie Gigi that says, “Oh thank heaven for little girls.” Before you get too impressed, I must credit Google for that reference. I think I heard the song on a diaper commercial once and it has stuck with me ever since. I’ve sung it to myself on numerous occasions as a father of three angelic, perfect little girls. But as I watched the PG&E man pull into my court last week while I sat with my neighbors, freshly evacuated from their home thanks to the exploits of my little boy, well, let’s just say that song rang even more true.

Were any of you aware that there was a power outage in Lincoln last week? No? That’s because it only involved one house, namely another set of neighbors (and another story, not the one I mentioned earlier). I’ve routinely heard and uttered the cliché “boys are different than girls,” but only recently have I realized how different they truly are!

Not once with my girls did I have neighbors coming to my door asking if my power was out, too. Not once with my girls did I have neighbors come to my door looking for the caps to their yard drains. And I can say with a fair amount of certainty that I never had to familiarize myself with the PG&E emergency number and ask a neighboring family to evacuate their home because of something that my girls did.

But I can answer with a resounding YES on all of the above from just one, blond haired, blue eyed, dimple-faced boy. Shall we take them in order? First the yard drain incident. Innocent enough, a couple of little tykes pretending to be landscapers, moving grates from one yard to the next. Forgettable, to say the least.

Next, the power outage. My neighbor came over to drop off a dessert, which is always welcome, and seemed surprised that we had power. She said that nothing in their home worked. She left and my oldest daughter said, “I saw the boy and his friend over on the side of their house.” The boy, who had been sitting at the table eyeing said dessert, was now suddenly absent?

We opened up their power box to see that all of the breakers had been flipped from on to off. Apparently now they were being electricians. Somewhat cute, but not so funny. The boy gets a stern talking to and I am assured that the electricians will never apply their craft again! For a couple of days I saw significant progress. The boy even went so far as to rat out his partner in crime while they were attempting to paint a fence with crazy glue. He was rewarded with a Subway sandwich and I figured his Dennis the Menace days were behind him.

Well, they weren’t, but I guess one could argue it’s my fault. During the stern talking to I never once told him he couldn’t take a hacksaw to the PG&E Smart Meter or bang around on top of the meter with a hammer. Yes, these things were done causing the aforementioned gas leak and the evacuation. Not so cute and not so funny, but the PG&E service technician did say he finally had a unique story to tell the other guys and added that he would display the sawed and banged up meter in the break room.

With my girls, I was constantly fighting with rubber Polly Pocket dresses and trying to fit GI Joe’s pants on a Ken Doll (have you seen what Ken has been wearing these days?). At this rate, thanks to my son, it appears that I’ll finally get to learn what a Bail Bondsman does, unfortunately as a client, and not via a Google search when looking for a clever column starter.

I’ve heard that girls are easier than boys in the beginning, but that when the teenage years hit, girls get emotional while boys ease into a steady routine of sleep, watching cartoons and eating cold cereal. Nobody told me that in the beginning boys would be getting into so much mischief. Somebody just rang my doorbell; does anyone know a good bail bondsman?

* One story didn't make the print edition of the newspaper. I thought it might be a tad bit too much. Earlier that same day that my little rascal took the tools to the meter, he was caught in the same families back yard, well, um...relieving himself. Apparently a little too much fun was had on the trampoliene and nature called. Not wanting to miss out on the fun, he just made a quick bee line to the corner and did his thing. Unfortunately, for him, he was caught red handed (there's a joke or pun in there somewhere) and had to apologize for his actions. There are also some "like father like son" jokes that could be inserted in here too, but that's a story for another day.

Newsmessenger - Getting Political in Chalk Town

2009-06-16T09:06:00.000-07:00

Well, congratulations are in order to the new President. I've never been one to be overly political, but this time I have a vested interest. After all, I'm part of the family. No, I'm not talking about the president of the United States; I'm talking about the President of Chalk Town! Elections were held for the Chalk Town presidency this past weekend and my oldest won in what I have to assume was the closest election in Chalk Town history, 4 to 3.

Thankfully all three of her siblings were voting, along with one of the neighbors who had just had after school snack at our house. So while the cost of the vote was relatively inexpensive, I believe a fruit snack and a juice box to be exact, she was definitely on the take. I guess one could say we were trying to teach our kids a lesson in how real politics work.

Actually I need to clean something up. As my wife was reading this article over my shoulder, she informed me that I could actually be thrown in the Chalk Town jail for referring to it as Chalk Town. I guess it was renamed “Great Falls” recently, most likely in honor of the many great falls that have taken place by the residents when they were learning to ride their bikes on this very court.

For those of you who aren't up on Chalk Town, I mean Great Falls history; it was founded a few months ago by the kids of my court after somebody received a bucket of chalk as gift at a birthday party. The kids went crazy with the chalk and before you knew it a full fledged town had emerged, complete with restaurants, a post office and a pretty nice set of houses and well kept roads.

And while the real economy is continuing to take a bath, Great Falls was thriving as my wife found a few more tubs of chalk at Target's recent 90% off sale. If only the real economy was this easy to fix. It was clear Great Falls needed a leader, and my niece won an unopposed election and was a wonderful president, until the floods of March 09 hit. Yes, the rains fell, and so did the Great Falls infrastructure, like, well, chalk down a storm drain. But with the end of Spring along came the re-emergence of Great Falls and elections were once again in order.

My daughter was quite impressive actually. She ran on a platform of growth. “A weather report in every email inbox and a new piece of chalk in every hand!” she proclaimed to the crowd more interested in whether or not our neighbor was going to finish her fruit snack or if there would be any left to pass around. Her cousin was running against her, as no term limits had yet been established in Great Falls. And unlike their presidential predecessors, no mud was slung, and it's a good thing, too, because I’m sure I would have had to clean it up.

Paper and crayons were then passed around and names were spelled over, and over, and over again to make sure the voters knew what to write on their ballots. I made sure that my wife put special emphasis on my daughter's name each time she spelled it definitely trying to sway the crowd.

And when all votes were in, we had a winner. Luckily my niece could only muster up three of her siblings for the vote, the deciding vote was the one captured by the fruit snack. Luckily she couldn't find her two oldest brothers, or we would already be planning the recount. Hail Great Falls, and let's hope that the rain in the forecast for this weekend heads North, I don’t think we’re ready for another election just yet!

Slogging Through the Wet and Windy Miwok 100k

2009-05-07T17:37:00.000-07:00

Many years ago I ran a road marathon in the rain. All three hours and 54 minutes were in the rain. It was my 2nd ever marathon. I had finished my first in something like 3 hours and 52 minutes. It was a year later and I had trained much harder so I was a bit disappointed with my finishing time. But someone quickly told me that the rain can sure do a number on performance, times, etc. I didn’t like running in the rain. I didn’t have a rain jacket and I inevitably was one of those guys running in a trash bag. I didn’t like running in a trash bag. I figured that it made me run slower and so I essentially vowed to become a fair weather runner for the rest of my career.

I had no problem telling running friends of mine that I just flat out didn’t do the rain. Sometimes I’d blame it on not wanting to get my orthotics (shoe inserts) wet, other times I’d just tell the truth, I didn’t like getting wet! A gym opened up nearby and that gave me the perfect excuse to stay out of the rain and still get my training done on the treadmill. Once, while training for a marathon, it rained on the day of a scheduled 20 mile training run so I did it all on the treadmill.

The treadmill would only go for an hour at a time so there I was with a couple of bags full of dry clothes, snacks, water, you name it and I did it. The best part of that story was our local newspaper was doing a feature on a couple of us heading to run the Boston Marathon, so they came out and took a picture of me running on the treadmill and the reporter, not a runner, wrote that it took me 7 hours to run those 20 miles on the treadmill that day. In order to cover 20 miles in 7 hours you’d pretty much need to stop, drop and then roll the entire distance. My running friends teased me for a long time about my 7 hours on the treadmill.

A year or so ago, and several years after my vow of no rain, I signed up for the first day of the Western States training camp. Day one would take us some 32 miles North of Foresthill. We’d run back down the mountain and then a few of us would re-fuel and go another 18 to make it an even 50 miles for the day. And then the rains came. I ended up running for 6 or 7 hours in the rain, it was a cold rain and I vowed (again) to never run in the rain.
And then last Saturday happened.

Running buddy Jeffery and I drove down to the Mill Valley Travelodge in pouring rain. The kind of rain where your wipers, working at full blast, still can’t keep the windshield clear. A couple of times I found myself just staring down at the white line to the left of the Jeep and the brake lights ahead of me, and it never let up.

We made our way to the hotel hoping the entire time that the skies would clear the closer we got to the Marin Headlands. But the closer we got, the more it poured.

The guy checking me into the hotel was nice, and I know he meant well. He asked if I was there for a run and I told him “yeah, a little run.” He said, “5k?” And I replied, “Times 20.” I don’t think he majored in math; he looked at me quizzically and then changed the subject. “How about this rain?” To which I replied, “Man, I don’t want to spend the day running in the rain!” And then he said, “I like to run in the rain.” To which I said, “Do you want to take my place? Just give me the t-shirt.” Again I was met with a puzzled look. Finally he wished me luck and said he hoped I’d win. Little did he know that I was simply hoping to finish within a few hours of the winner.

He told me about check out time at 11 AM, about the free continental breakfast beginning at 6 AM and about the late night dancing at a club down the frontage road. I’d be passing on all three. Jeffery and I unloaded the Jeep and then decided we’d drive down to the start just to make sure we could find it as the next trip would be done in the 4 AM’ish time frame.

We eventually found the start and, surprise, it was raining. Jeffery pointed to the corner of the parking lot and said, “That’s where it ends!” Admittedly I was thinking it might end tomorrow morning in my car if the weather didn’t change.

We headed for dinner at the Outback and I found myself trying to think of all kinds of things that I could do to sabotage my race. I tried twisting my ankle stepping out of the Jeep. I figured I’d ask for the seafood platter, raw! Give me water with extra lemons (for those of you who didn’t see the Dateline or 48 hours special a while back on the lemon wedge that finds its way into your water, well, maybe you don’t want to). But I settled on a bbq chicken breast and baked potato, salad and extra bread. It was perfect.

We made our way back to the hotel and commiserated some more about the weather. At one point Jeffery asked me if it was still raining. I opened the door to see sheets of raining moving through the field behind the hotel. It was still a downpour.

We watched The Bucket List on HBO, made jokes about it raining buckets, powered down some yogurt covered pretzels, red licorice and Mrs. Fields mini-nibblers and packed our drop bags and got our race gear ready for the next day. Actually Jeffery’s drop bag was probably packed sometime in March, he likes to be prepared. I sorted through everything I had brought and I started what would be the recurring theme for the next few hours, rain jacket or no rain jacket?
We actually both slept pretty well and woke up to the 3:30 AM alarm. As good ultra runners do, we both reached for bagels and sandwiches and power bars and Gatorade and started eating. The rain had let up a bit and there was hope for the day. The weather channel wasn’t a big help, it showed no “severe thunderstorms” but it showed constant rain.

We made our way to the start and got a parking space right next to the finish line. It was hard to believe I’d eventually make my way back there later that night…hopefully! We ran into several ultra friends, including Monica Moore and Trish Godtfredsen, a couple of people that we run with in Auburn. They had stayed at a hostel and said that the “bongo playing hippies” had kept them up until after 2 AM. When they woke at 3:30 AM they weren’t very popular. I was very grateful for the Travelodge.

The big debate was now what to wear. A quick glance around at the other runners found some wearing essentially underwear and arm warmers while others looked ready to camp in the arctic. I settled on short sleeve shirt, arm warmers, Nathan’s vest (not a guy, but a brand, Nathan wouldn’t have been happy if I just grabbed his vest right before the start) and yes, my rain jacket. Two days before I bought a serious running rain jacket, not the kind that just repels rain, but the kind that takes the rain and throws it right back up at the sky! The only negative, according to the REI rep, was that it could get a bit warm. He was right!

The Start to Bunker Road! 6.2 miles

We walked as a group to the beach and after a couple of words (including a reminder to look for pink ribbons on the trails which sent me into an immediate panic because I hadn’t even thought about my tendency to get lost on trail runs, the course was incredibly well marked) we were off! We slogged along the beach for a few hundred yards and then came to a grinding halt as some 320 runners made their way up a steep single track trail. The weather was actually quite warm, it wasn’t raining and I was already breaking a sweat.

The next few miles were all up hill. Up a steep, paved hill. I made my standard, “Now I’m going to make my move” jokes and “Is it only the top 3 that get into States” comments. I was also starting to sweat profusely! Jeffery suggested we ditch the rain jackets around mile 2 and I envisioned carrying my jacket, or wearing it around my waist for the next 19 miles until we hit our drop bags at the Pan Toll aid station. Jeffery, thankfully, convinced me that my jacket would fold up and fit in the back pouch of my vest, and it did without a problem. All of a sudden it was warm, my jacket was off, there was no rain, this was going to be my day!

We were able to chat with several people, two ladies that Jeffery had seen before, both training for Western States, I can’t remember their names, but they said just go with “The long and the short of it,” and one of them was long (tall) and the other was, well, short!

And then the hills kept coming, and coming. I swear I don’t remember any downhills for the first 15 miles of the course, but I know there had to be. We cruised into the Bunker Road aid station feeling great.

Bunker to Tennessee Valley, 11.9 miles, and onto Muir Beach 16 miles

After Bunker we had a deceptively short, but flat piece of trail and I thought, once again, that I was ready to settle in and find a groove. That was when Jeffery pointed way up into the sky and said, “See those tiny people way up on that hill?” Sure, I saw those ant-size folks far off in the distance running up through the clouds. “That’ll be us in a bit.” And we began some serious uphill marching!

And then the rains came. It started to rain pretty good and the jackets came back out. For the next few miles I don’t remember much other than it went up, and I was wet.

Somewhere around 13 or 14 miles we were climbing some mountain and I realized that although the climbing was hard, I really didn’t mind it. And, Jeffery and I were gaining on people on the up hills. We also ran for a bit with Molly from Grass Valley and her friend. They had been running with one of our friends, Jack Meyer, and so the 5 of us, along with a couple of others, descended the mile or two down into the Muir Beach aid station together. It was at this point that my quads started burning. How quickly one could go from “this is my day” to “how long is this again?” I remember looking at my watch and it only said 15 miles and my legs were tired! Other than the American River 50 miler exactly 4 weeks earlier, I hadn’t done anything long, so I thought I’d be pretty darned fresh.

So the following conversation happened:

Me: “Jeffery, I need you to tell me the honest truth, don’t tell me something just to sound like a ‘real man’ or anything like that OK? Promise?

Jeffery: “Sure, whatever.”

Me: (in one breath) “OK, do your legs hurt at all, even one tiny bit because mine are already hurting and I think that I need to hear that after 15 miles of climbing the ups that a little downhill work will at least cause ones legs to feel a little bit of pain so seriously, as my friend, tell me the truth, do your legs hurt at all?

Jeffery: “Nope!”

Me: “Well that doesn’t instill much confidence in me! We have 47 miles to go!

We came down into the Muir Beach aid station in the pouring rain and I was starting the pity party, at only mile 16! Something else was happening, too. Despite eating a gel religiously every 30 minutes, I was starting to get hungry! Those who have read my reports leading up to my 100 last year know that solid food and I don’t get along well on a race yet here I was reaching for a PB&J square! And it was good! I figured I’d see how it went down and if all was well I’d try two at the next aid station.

Muir Beach to Pan Toll, 21.7 miles

We left Muir Beach and ran through some beautiful single track trails in the ultra green foliage, the canopy enough that while you could hear the rain above; you couldn’t really tell how hard it was coming down. After a couple of miles of that we eventually emerged into a, what else, a big hill! We were told we were looking at a roughly 2 mile climb up to the next aid station, Pan Toll, where our drop bags were located.

The next two miles were truly the worst part of the day for me. First, as we made our way up the climb, I told myself to eat and so I downed a gel and then I reached for the Shot Blocks. I don’t know if it’s because they were several months past their expiration date or because it was COLD but they were hard! I swear I was pulling out fillings with every chew and it took me every bit of 2 miles to eat the entire bag. Meanwhile Jeffery let me try one of his Gu Chomps AFTER I was done with my filling-pullers and it was like eating a freaking gummy bear!

It was also during these two miles that it dumped buckets and buckets of rain from the sky! We were soaked, rain just poured down the bill of my hat. My feet were soaked and I had rocks in my shoe but I didn’t want to stop to try and get them out. I was starting to think that today could just be a nice 21.7 mile training run and I could call it a day at Pan Toll.

We got into Pan Toll and we were both freezing. I changed shirts, tried to eat and empty the rocks out of my shoes. Jeffery said he was going to go ahead; every time we stopped we started to shiver. I left the aid station telling myself when I made it back, if the sky wasn’t full of sunshine and I wasn’t “pooping rainbows” as one of my daughters told me the other day, which apparently means that everything is going well, then I’d be dropping the next time I hit Pan Toll (Miwok is an out and back course with a slight change on the way back).

Pan Toll to Bolinas Ridge 28.4 miles

As if the last climb wasn’t bad enough, we were now at least done with the climbing for a bit, but we were now on an exposed ridge that I’m guessing was exposed to the ocean, although it was raining so hard one couldn’t see the ocean, only feel its breeze! Worse yet, the trail was tiny (I called it half track instead of single track) and it was slightly pitched, and muddy! A couple of times wind bursts hit so hard that I literally blew off the trail into the high grass. You would also periodically come up to an area where you could see slide marks off the trail into the grass which would then be muddy. The trail didn’t look particularly bad and then WHOA you were following those slip marks into the high grass. Apparently everybody was doing the same thing.

I finally caught Jeffery who was running with an old friend named Tom Harper, 60 years old from Auburn, who would go on to beat us by a fair amount. Tom was amazingly positive and the three of us were truly in a groove. We eventually made our way into the seclusion of the forest where, without the wind, and only the downpour to deal with, seemed like paradise.

Two things thing happened. First, we saw the leader, Eric Reis. Unfortunately he would drop shortly after we saw him, apparently unable to keep food down, but at that time he was some 12 miles ahead of us! Amazing. The next runners wouldn’t be seen for at least a mile. Then the second thing happened, Jeffery took a fall. He hit a root and went airborne. I’ve seen Jeffery fall one other time and it’s just amazing how everything slows down. He fell off the side of the trail and Tom and I had to help him up. He was muddy, bruised and a little bit rattled, but we knew it would make for a better story.

We made our way into Bolinas and again I went for the PB&J, this time two squares and it was wonderful! Jeffery and I also both made our way to the M&M’s, something we neither one typically eat at ultras but we both agreed it really hit the spot. Again, I was unusually hungry!

Bolinas to the Randall Trail (turnaround) 35.6 miles

As Jeffery and I left Bolinas we both checked in with each other and realized that despite the rain and cold, we were both actually running quite well. The next 7 miles to the turnaround were a lot of fun. We were starting to see more and more of the faster runners coming back and we were yelling “way to go!” and trying to come up with as many jokes as we could.

At one point we passed friend and uber ultra blogger Scott Dunlap (he was on his way back, don’t get me wrong) and I made it a point to yell out Scott’s name. We gave 5’s and he kept on running. It’s funny what a little pub on his blog will do to traffic on your own and I found myself devouring his post-race report looking for the part where he “saw Tony Overbay” on the trail with a link to my site, but unfortunately I must have been left on the editing room floor. Maybe next time!

We were also keen on conducting an unscientific study. Most of the front runners were essentially naked. Shorts and a tank top, half top, shirtless, you name it. Once those runners made it past you started seeing people wearing normal shirts, then long sleeve shirts and it wasn’t until a couple of miles from the turn around that we saw our first rain jacketed runner. Keeping in mind that we were wearing our rain jackets we knew we were now approaching “our type of runners.”

Also of note was that the puddles during this section of the race were more like lakes. Some were far too big to find a way around so we started plowing through them, which made life a little easier despite the numb feet and toes. The final two miles down to the turnaround were all downhill and muddy and we ran it hard and loved it. We saw a lot of friends, Leslie Antonis, Monica and Jack, Trish and many other familiar faces.

The 2 miles of down of course meant two miles of up to follow but we were ready for the hike after that downhill. We refueled at the turnaround and made a mental (and out loud) note that we were more than half way home. For the first time in the day, despite the rain and cold, I truly felt we were going to do this!

Randall Trail (turnaround) back to Bolinas and on to Pan Toll 49.5 miles

The way back was much similar to the way in, seeing the runners now on their way toward the turnaround, joking, exchanging “way to go’s” and “looking goods” while romping through puddles. We were also able to pass a few folks on the section to Bolinas which further pumped us up. We were truly running a good race.

At Bolinas I must have eaten a bag of M&M’s and another PB&J square, maybe this solid food thing was going to work out after all? Before we knew it we were back on the ridge fighting the winds and now leaning the opposite way on the pitched half-track. The wind was still fierce and the rains coming in buckets but we were moving and we were in a good place.

Pan Toll to Highway 1 Crossing 54.7 miles

I have to say, I truly thought when I first came through Pan Toll at roughly 22 miles that by the time I made it back at mile 50 I would be done. But here I was feeling pretty darned good. I knew that there were a couple of miles of downhill coming after Pan Toll so I was starting to do the math, meaning, I knew I could run those two downhill just swell and that meant I’d soon be at mile 52, only 10 to go. I also realized that my legs actually felt better than they had back at 15 when I started my pity party. Perhaps all the salt and gels and solids and fluids (my pee total was already in the teens at this time) were paying off, I was in good shape!

I was ready for the next 12 miles so I grabbed a bag from inside of my drop bag, took off my vest, stuffed what I needed into my jacket pockets and left. Since I know this report is going long, let’s just say I didn’t realize I was missing my vest, which contained my iPod, until the following day. Apparently I just left that bag with the vest and iPod on the table in the drop bag area, sealed up my drop bag and left. I emailed the race director Tia who got back to me on Tuesday and surprisingly let me know she had the vest and iPod! They are on their way back which I am grateful for, but not before I went ahead and bought a new iPod Nano, the kind that play video (that’s what I’ve been wanting since my oldest daughter got one for her birthday). Thanks Tia!

I remember the 2 miles of downhill and we did run it well. I remember making the hairpin left turn at the bottom of the hill which many miss and add miles onto an already long race. We passed a couple of more runners and were truly feeling great as we crested a ridge and found ourselves at the Highway 1 crossing. There were hills to follow and we did our best to eat and drink and gel and salt. They also had pizza. Jeffery grabbed a slice, I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to make the leap to pizza and we started moving up the hill.

Highway 1 to Tennessee Valley and onto the FINISH, Rodeo Lagoon, mile 62.4!

We were on yet another long uphill. Hopefully Jeffery won’t mind me sharing this part, but about a mile outside of the aid station he said he was done. He tried to send me on ahead but some 20 miles ago, when he was the one feeling strong we made a pact to ride this one out together. We were only 6 or so miles from the end, I wasn’t about to leave a man in the field! Plus, I knew there were plenty of downhills to come and Jeffery absolutely kills on the downhills, leaving me every time we hit a stretch of down throughout the day only to find me catching him on the ups.

We started to play leapfrog with a father / son team, I don’t know their names, but they were great sports giving us an idea of what was still to come. Jeffery ran Miwok last year but he developed blisters in the first dozen miles and ended up with a death march the last 50 miles or so with duct taped feet, entire layers of skin coming off the bottoms of his feet so he admitted that the last few miles were all a blur.

We hit the Tennessee Valley aid station and moved quickly through it. Neither one of us had drank much since Highway 1 as I believe we were both just ready to be done. The weather finally broke, not the cold so much, but the rain and we began what was to be our last climb, 1.8 miles up and 2 miles down to the finish. Knowing this gave Jeffery a little more spring in his step and I’m proud to say the last 4 miles were fairly easy. We were going to finish! We made it up the climb and passed a couple of additional runners as we then started downhill. I had to give it all I could to keep up with Jeffery as he could “smell the barn” and he was on his turf, the downhill.

Finally we could see Rodeo Beach, the finish line and people were clapping and cheering. There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING like finishing an ultra marathon. To put in all of the time and energy in training to then find yourself feeling so good about crossing an imaginary line that signified that you were done, that you did it. Another ultra in the books. A story to tell, and on this day, quite a story to tell. Early in the race, when I thought my wheels were coming off, I had already crafted my race report. It was going to be my first DNF (did not finish) but I was going to say it was a DNF as in Did Not Feel like it. But there I was grabbing a bbq chicken breast and a goodie bag completed with a Brooks hat and an awesome finisher’s shirt, as well as a finisher’s medal, something I hadn’t seen since my marathon days.

We finished in 13 hours and 32 minutes, good for 157th place overall. 62 runners dropped and rumor has it that another 40 something didn’t show up to start. I felt great!

We quickly changed into dry clothes and left with our sights set on the Mill Valley In-n-Out. We had burned approximately 7,500 calories during that run and I was intending on putting them all back in one sitting. Yet once we sat down I barely finished my burger as exhaustion set in. I had to get Jeffery to talk to me non-stop on the way home to stay away and, once home my hunger was truly back and I ate a giant bowl of ice cream and chocolate chips.

Epilogue

One thing I thought might be interesting for the ultra folks who have made it this far in the report. I’ve been amazed at how easy it has been over the past couple of years of ultra running to recover and be back running a couple of days after a race. In my old marathon days I’d be out for a week or more and for the past two years I was not only running a couple of days after an even longer event, but I was racing again within a couple of weeks.

My routine has been pre-race deep tissue massage once a week for the two weeks leading up to an event and then post-race deep tissue the week or two after. I have also made sure to drink the recovery drinks, like Endurox, stretch, use The Stick massager, all of these great things. Well, to be honest I just didn’t feel like all that stuff this time. Instead of Endurox I hit In-n-Out. Instead of stretching I laid on the couch and watched NBA playoffs. I did hit the gym starting Monday for daily elliptical and upper body weights but I skipped the massage and the Stick as well. And here I am on Thursday and I’m still feeling tiny remnants of soreness! So I think the old routine is a must for a quicker recovery.

Thanks again to Tia, the race director, to Jeffery, my running buddy who I didn’t tire of despite 6 hours in a car, 6 hours in a hotel and 13 hours on the trail and all of the wonderful volunteers who braved a day in the rain! We ran our race, and both felt like we could have kept going. Something that is a necessity for him as the countdown is now on for his Western States 100 run in just a matter of weeks!

I’m now going to take a break from ultras and chase the elusive sub-3 hour marathon. I feel I have the base, I’ve done a 3:14 and I have two good marathons targeted, the Deseret News in July and the St. George in October. Stay tuned, we’ll see how it goes!

Newsmessenger - Thinking About Stealing Home? Just Don't Forget the Capri Sun!

2009-05-04T13:04:00.000-07:00

The greatest piece of advice given to me before the 2009 Lincoln Little League Tee Ball season started was this, “Before you get to your first practice, lower your expectations. And then, once you get to practice, lower them again.” This Yogi-Berra-like wisdom was imparted on me by my good friend Nathan Oates, pastor of Lincoln’s Emmaus Church. My guess is that after his stint as a tee ball coach last year, he prepared more than one sermon on patience, long suffering, and wondering whether or not practices were necessary when getting the kids to stand up for an entire inning was truly goal number one?

But with all of this said, and at the time of this writing we are a mere 9 or 10 games into what feels like a full, Major League 162-game season, I am having the time of my life. As a father to one son and three daughters, none of whom have quite taken a shine to team sports, I’ve longed for this day since playing catch with my own dad some 30 years ago. And now that I’m here it’s far exceeding expectations, my son and I just can’t quite play catch yet, well, we play throw, drop and chase. Just who would have thought the actual playing of baseball itself would have very little to do with the experience?

Put aside for this year, and next (and probably the year after that, too) are my diagrams of the hit and run, the suicide squeeze or whether or not to leave a pitcher in so we can save his arm for the next game. Now the question is whether or not to let a kid leave in the middle of an inning to go potty? The answer is yes, by the way, or else watering the field takes on an entirely different meaning. Now the most important document I carry to games is the snack schedule. You think losing a big game is bad? Try telling a team of 5 and 6 year-olds that somebody forgot the Capri Sun and granola bars!

Hitting the cutoff man is replaced by not hitting each other when fighting for who gets to overthrow first. Anxiety over whether or not we can pull off the double steal is replaced by the anxiety that the coach manning the tee is going to take a bat to the midsection when a budding Barry Bonds (pre-steroids, the name was used purely for the sake of alliteration) tosses the bat backwards like a frisbee. Forget teaching the finer points of fielding ground balls, we’re busy trying to keep track of where everybody’s hat and glove disappeared to.

I want to tip my increasingly sweat-stained cap to my assistant coach Heather, the true brains behind the team. I showed up to the first practice thinking I was going to take the team solo, and thankfully Heather knew that playing catch the first practice was akin to asking the kids to basically throw rocks at each other’s heads. She was hired. The same can be said for Jen, my team mom. Another position I was unaware of. Without a team Mom you don’t have a float, banner, trophies and snacks, which, as I stated before, are truly the lifeblood of the team.

But I especially want to thank the tee ball kids and parents of the 2009 Mets, a word that none of the players can read mind you. To Jake, Max, Kyle, Carson, Connor, Colby, Christian, Jackson, Dante, Tyler, Braeden and Brandon, you’ve easily made this the most fun year I’ve ever had in baseball. I just need to make sure I don’t forget the treats to the end-of-year party.

Newsmessenger - Let's Talk Pennies and Chalk, Comb-overs and Turkey Manure

2009-04-14T15:23:00.000-07:00

In every profession, I’m sure there are items that make one scratch their heads in bewilderment or laugh in amusement. As a therapist, I see plenty. Whether it’s the individual who acts as normal as anyone to the outside world but who secretly confesses to traveling through electrical wires once the door closes or those who believe that, “Hey, we’ve all specifically plotted out taking over the world, right? Right?” And then there was the guy who stayed up for days on end existing entirely on a diet of pennies and chalk but came to me to talk about his relationship failures.

I’ve also learned that this phenomenon is true from my clients. I saw an ER nurse regularly for several months who wanted to spend the first five minutes of every session telling me about all of the odd things that she saw come into the emergency room. Her husband didn’t have the stomach for it, but apparently as someone getting paid to listen, I did.

I had a very candid conversation with a hair stylist once about how she often had to bite her lip when the customer would come in asking for the mullet with the date being nowhere near Halloween or the balding guy who would insist on keeping a 12-inch strip of hair on top for the comb-over look. (As a bald guy myself who once came dangerously close to sporting a comb over of my own, I can joke about this. To this day, I’m grateful for the intervention organized by my wife).

I saw an example of this that takes the cake just a few days ago while at Fedex. I simply needed to run in and drop off a box; it would only take me a couple of seconds. I’ve thought about what I saw sitting on the counter enough over the past few days to turn it into a column and possibly pitch it as an upcoming reality series.

Apparently, even box manufacturers are in on the fun. Let me digress. Recently, I purchased some gear from a Web site called Moosejaw. The site was easy to navigate and the products I purchased were a great deal (no, I get nothing for this plug). When the boxes came, I became an even bigger fan. They were covered in funny stickers and advice, telling me not to use sharp objects to open, to be careful or I’d lose an eye. They’d obviously had fun with the packaging design.

No doubt the box manufacturer who bagged the Moosejaw account not only appreciated the business but also adding a little humor into their day. Well, the box I saw on the counter was equally as funny but I don’t think it was created as a joke. It was serious. It was the box equivalent to the guy with the mullet or the man with the comb over.

The box said, and I couldn’t make this up, “Use caution when opening, fresh turkey manure.” Granted, I’m sure the recipient will appreciate the advice. I’d hate to be the guy going crazy with the X-Acto knife excitedly opening his new box of turkey manure on his desk next to his enchilada platter.

And to think, some trees grow up to be the Rockefeller Christmas Tree; others, they become a box donning the words “Fresh Turkey Manure.” At least that box had a better fate in store than those pennies and chalk!

American River 50 Mile Endurance Run Race Report

2009-04-08T11:05:00.000-07:00

Two days after the 2009 running of the American River 50 Mile Endurance Run I think I'm finally starting to put things into perspective. I thought about heading down the overused cliché route, like the Tortoise and the Hare, or the one from the old Wide World of Sports, something to do with the thrill of victory and agony of defeat but the more hours that pass after the event and the less sore my legs feel the less dramatic the event seems. As a matter of fact, right this very second I can say that the entire experience was wonderful, and that I'm happy with my time. I've gone back and forth with that sentiment, however, many times over the last 48 hours as I think back to what I could have done better, and then praise myself for powering through a few routine ultra-related highs and lows.

First, the summary paragraphs, for those who like to stop by the site, catch a couple of details and get out, those who don't really care about all of the ultra running geeky details. Then I'll get to the geeky details (what I enjoy) and no doubt this report will go longer than intended.

The Summary!

Over 700 runners toed the line for the 30th running of AR50, some 200 runners tackling their first 50 mile race! At the race packet pickup the day before the Fleet Feet in Fair Oaks gave away t-shirts to the first 200 to pick up their race numbers that had a great phrase on the front, “50 miles, the new 26.2.” With this year's AR50 selling out a few weeks ago, and other ultra runs requiring lotteries or fast fingers at the computer I think this statement is definitely true.

Last year I was one of those rookies ready to take on a 50 miler, so this year I felt like I knew everything about the distance. That was my first worry, I can't lie, I felt like I was a bit over confident if anything. It was still 50 miles! I had put in the road training, but not a lot of time on the trails. I wondered if that would make much of a difference on the day, and I think I found out about 35 miles into the race.

Team Overbay was back in their uni's this year.

Wait, back to the summary. I started out a bit too fast, but really felt good. I set a goal to hit the marathon mark around 4 hours, hit Beal's point (27 miles) around 4:10 and then hang on from there. I hit the marathon mark right on schedule, Beal's the same. I had another good 3 or 4 miles and then around mile 32 I kind of fell apart, mentally and physically. I was determined to finish, so that wasn't a worry, but at one point, right around mile 35, I thought I was heading toward a 15 mile “death march” to the finish.

Me coming into Beals Point wearing my Brooks ID Gear

I've been running ultras now for a year and a half. I've run 8 or 9 of them and I've yet to have an injury. Yet there I was around mile 34, 35, feeling an odd pain in my right knee. I felt the pain primarily when going downhill. Now, it's important to note that on an ultra you always want to run the flats and downhills, try to run the slight ups and power walk the big hills. Having knee pain on the down hill sections forced me to almost walk the downs, making me want to compensate by running the flats and every up that I could, possibly wearing out my legs in the process.

From Buzzard's Cove (35 miles) to Rattlesnake Bar (41) I was essentially walk-running just counting down the miles until I could see my family (at Rattlesnake). That was the only thing keeping me going through that stretch. I was starting to get passed, and that's no fun at all. The good news was that I wasn't too hot, my stomach stayed with me the entire race, it was just my darned legs! Who'd have thought that after 30+ miles ones legs could stage such a convincing revolt!? I was desperate as I arrived at the Rattlesnake aid station. My family was there, and that was wonderful, but I had 9 more miles to go. Luckily I thought to pop 3 Advil, because I was willing to try anything. After kissing the family unit and even getting a very sweaty hug from my 7-year-old (the rest stay at a distance at aid stations) I headed out and started running.

5 and 7-year-old wondering when Dad would finally appear!

I decided that I would run until I just felt I needed a walk break. I made it a quarter mile and I felt fine so I just kept running. Pretty soon it was a half mile, then a mile! I passed somebody, then somebody else. Now I was at a mile and a half, the next aid station was just a couple of miles away so what the heck, let's try to run it in! I made it! After 10 miles of pity, I just put together a string of 4.4 miles of pure running. Open fields, beautify day, butterflies in my way, running. This is why you run!

Me sporting the "Team Monsters" shirt and the orange-tinted glasses from Rio Del Lago 100

7-year-old Syd helping me into the aid station

Finally arriving at Horseshoe Bar

I left Manhattan Bar (44 miles and some change) still feeling great, knowing it was only a little under 3 miles until the last aid station and where the hills started (the last 3 miles were up hill). I knew once I hit that last aid station that I truly could walk it in from there and be content. After running the last 4 miles I knew I would beat my last year's time (something that was in jeopardy when I reached Rattlesnake less than an hour earlier. I knew this from my wife simply saying, “You know what time it is, right?” Oh yes I did!).

But here I was again, running, and passing people, and feeling good! I made it to the Last Gasp aid station (47 miles), what service! Volunteers ran down the hill and grabbed my bottles and asked me what I wanted in them. At this point just ice and water. I was so sick of gels and gu and fruity flavored anything! They told me to keep moving and they'd catch me with my bottles, and they did. All I had for a tip was an unused gel or some salt tablets. My happy helper declined and I kept moving up the hill.

Last year I finished in 9:52, this year I secretly want to finish under 9, but I really would take anything faster than last year. In my head, I figured if I walked in the last 3 I'd finish in 9:40'ish but again, there I was feeling good! So I started to run! Well, slow jog I'm sure, it was mile 47 after all and it was uphill, but I was moving! So I ran it in from at least a couple of miles out. I turned the corner to the finish and there were all those wonderful feelings coming up inside of me again, like they do with every finish. My kids smiling, my wife yelling, the crowd clapping, Norm Klein announcing my name and saying, “Here comes Tony Overbay, I beat this guy up Stagecoach (a very steep training hill) last week!” Norm is the race director of the Helen Klein 50k/50m and once RD of Western States, and Rio Del Lago 100 miler (my 100 miler!). My finishing time was 9:23, good for 164th place out of 510 finishers.

Crossing the finish line at 9 hours 23 minutes, 30 mins faster than last year!

When people ask me why I run these distances sometimes it's easy to say “because I can!” Laugh a bit and leave it at that. But there is nothing like that sense of accomplishment. Nothing beats having the highs and lows, ups and downs and working through them, seeing what you are made of, pushing through the pain, feeling the results of hours and hours of pre-daylight training, eating right (well, better), and then you reach your goal. It's truly amazing each and every time and part of the draw of the next event is the finish (OK, and the t-shirts and finishers jackets and all the cool stuff you get these days for finishing).

Holding the coveted Brooks finisher's jacket!

I crossed the finish line and I was handed my finishers jacket, it's awesome! It's from Brooks no less, my sponsor, so I can wear it with pride...if only it didn't hit 70 degrees the next two days! Huge thanks to race director and ultra athlete Julie Fingar for putting on such a great race.

I found my buddy Jeffery working the massage tent with all of the folks from Monsters of Massage. I spent 5 minutes on the table but those 5 minutes no doubt helped me with a quick recovery. I thought I'd have trouble going down steps by Monday but I'm just fine. I even went to the gym this AM with my wife for some weights and 30 mins on a bike followed by a day at John's Incredible Pizza making the most of the buffet. Ah, the benefits of burning 6,742 calories just two days earlier (thanks for the data Garmin 305).

Celebratory hug (from a distance thanks to my smell no doubt) from my wife and son.

Quick bit of business for those runners about to leave without reading of the two sub plots in the race, I ate a gel every 45 mins, took a salt tablet every hour and eventually threw down a couple extra salts and gels and the day went on. I carried two handheld bottles the entire race, one with water, the other with my Gu2O sludge (4 scoops plus one scoop of Endurox for a shot of protein in one of the small bottles, I go with 5 scoops in the larger bottles).

I tried going with some potatoes and salt at a couple of aid stations and tried some soup at one but I just wasn't feeling the solids on this day and I didn't force them since I was packing a lot of gels. I did change from my road shoes to my trail shoes at Beals Point and I was glad I did (more on that later). I read a few reports of folks getting poison oak but luckily I missed it. I did use a couple of pre-wipes at Beals but never rinsed with Technu afterward like I had planned on doing.

Now, in the words of Paul Harvey, “The Rest of the Story!”

First, the cliches. The tortoise and the hare. So a few months ago I was called out on a friend's blog, he said that he could beat me in a 50 mile race. We attend church together and a lot of people at church know that I run some long distances. It became well known around church that we were theoretically racing each other. Now, I mean no offense in anything I'm about to type, he (his name is Mark Snow, let's give him some credit here) knows I'm a fan of his and consider him a good friend. But, with that said, I've run a lot of ultras now and a lot of marathons before running the ultras.

I had to figure out a lot of things with regard to eating, hydration, salt balance, training, you name it! When he first entered the race I figured we'd train together, but I floated that idea out a couple of times and I felt like he wasn't very interested in training with me, or hearing any of my advice. He had a plan and he was going to follow it. That plan consisted of no ultras leading up to the 50, and no back-to-back long runs, etc., all things that went against any published training plan you could find. We did manage to do one run together, a 15 miler that consisted of the Auburn Overlook to Cool via K2 (killer hill) and back to the Overlook via Stagecoach (another killer hill). I can't lie, the plan was to show him how hard this stuff was going to be, and I felt like I succeeded a bit on that particular run, I had a great day and I felt he was tired by the end. When we made it back to my car I said, “OK, now picture another 35 miles!”

Well, fast forward to race day. I was hoping to see Mark in the AM and run together for a bit. We didn't connect and I went out about as fast as I figured I would, very slow the first mile or two, but then I met up with ultra speedster and the father of ultra blogging Scott Dunlap (makes you sound old, doesn't it Scott?). I've traded emails with Scott, I've seen him at races but I never thought I'd be able to run with him so I grabbed onto the opportunity and did 3 or 4 miles at his 7:45 pace which he kept up the entire day (finished in 7:44!) and commented in his race report he felt he could have kept up for another 30 miles! Scott is preparing for his first Western States and he appears to be doing it right.

Thankfully nature called me (as it did a record 15 times, including at mile 46 which is always a good sign that things are working well) and I let Scott go but it was indeed a treat to run with him and talk family, training, parents, the Paleo Diet, Vespa, you name it (I tried two Vespas at this run but I can't lie, I don't think even Vespa can make up for my lack of trail running!). I then ran back and forth with good friend Leslie Antonis who ran a 50 miler the previous weekend and a 100 miler just a couple of weeks before that (she went on to finish in 8:48!)! We played leapfrog for the next 10 miles as I would leave the bike path to un-hydrate and then catch back up with her. My point being, I figured my buddy Mark was well behind me because I was moving at a good clip!

I also ran with a very nice guy I've bumped into many times out on the trails, Ryan (I'm drawing a blank on his last name). His wife was due that day with their second child and he had a buddy meeting him at every aid station to pull him if necessary. Don't think he didn't have his priorities straight, his wife sent him out to run the race as she felt like nothing was happening on the baby front. Imagine his surprise when she showed up on the race course with their oldest and ran with him for a bit! I saw it with my own two eyes and caught up with him to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing! She looked great! Pregnant, but great! Hopefully the baby made it into the world safe and sound, with a great pre-birth story that I'm sure he/she'll appreciate down the road.

I hit the marathon mark right around 4 hours, disappointing if it's a marathon but absolutely perfect for a 50 mile pace, I was going to smash my last year's time! As I came into Beals Point I saw my family and Mark's family. So naturally I thought that Mark hadn't come in yet. As I sat down to change shoes my wife said, “Mark just left and he was looking pretty good, he said he was getting tight but he was doing alright!”

WHAT!?

I started to panic! She was feeding me Shot Blocks (I wrote up in my instructions to feed me even if I said no, and sure enough I told her no and she kept feeding me!), I was changing shoes, my shirt, replenishing gels and salt and all of a sudden I thought, “What if Mark pulls this off!?” I had jokingly gone on record and said if he beat me I would give up running forever. Now he was a mere 23 miles from taking me out of the running game altogether.

I popped up and by the time I left he had a good 10 minutes on me. I made my way to the aid station and filled up, said “Hi” to good friends Nancy Warren and Melissa Johnson and I was off, now with a purpose. I'll admit, I was almost panicked, “Must catch Mark!”

My trail shoes felt great as my road shoes (an unreleased model from Brooks) were great and light, but bad on the trails. My legs were tired, but the up and down of the trails and the cushion of the dirt always bring the legs back to life just a bit.

Finally, as my watch showed 31.50 miles I saw somebody walking up ahead that looked like Mark. “Snow?” I yelled!

“Hey Tony,” he said. It was Mark. I stopped and walked with him for a bit and we broke down his day up to that point. I couldn't tell him enough how impressed I was of him. Here's a guy who never ran more than 20 miles and he came through the marathon mark under 4 hours and stayed ahead of me until exactly 50k. We chatted on Sunday and he said he thought he went out too fast. He said his tummy never turned on him and that he probably could have done a better job with electrolytes or food early on but I tell you what, he's a natural ultra runner if he can find the time for it. Mark and I have had a couple of good conversations about what it takes to train and have kids. Mark has a big family like me, with small kids, all active, and he coaches a track team at Whitney High. He said he just plain ran out of time to train and I definitely understand. I confessed to him that thankfully I require little sleep so I can train from 4 – 6'ish every morning but that over the last few months those back-to-back 20 milers on Friday and Saturday, hitting the road at 4 AM, well, those weren't as fun as when all this ultra running was shiny and new.

So tortoise and hare. I played the role of the hare and caught my tortoise at the 50k mark. He managed to keep going up until Rattlesnake Bar, approximately 41 miles into the race. Well done, Mark! If you're ever up for training for a marathon or 50k I'm your man!

Subplot number two, the “Thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat!”

If I'm being perfectly honest, the moment I passed Mark was a pretty big victory mentally. But there was another threat gaining on me and I didn't even know it. Back story – A few weeks ago fellow Lincoln resident Chris Perillo emailed me and said he had read my newspaper column, saw my website, that I was an ultra runner and emailed me to ask me some questions about ultra running. I was happy to start trading emails with Chris because when I started there were some very nice ultra folk there to answer ALL of my questions, and I mean all of them. Primarily there were two people who became my virtual coaches. First was Nancy Warren, she's run a lot of hundreds, done the Badwater Ultra through Death Valley a couple of times, she's the race director for the 12 Hours to Cool night run and just a nice, nice person. The second, and if you read my 100 report from last year you'll already know, is Lon Freeman. This guy is the real deal. He wins ultras, sets records and still had time to answer a lot of dumb questions from this rookie. So I was excited to give back.

The weeks went by and Chris and his running partner, Roseville resident Amy Schmich, were doing everything right. A lot of long runs, trail runs, speed workouts, you name it. They did Way Too Cool and both had great times. We finally figured out a time to run during our taper. We, meaning Jeffery, me and Pastor Nathan, another good running friend of ours, met Chris and Amy one chilly morning at 5 AM at the Tower Market in Lincoln for a 7 mile run. It was great, they were both running strong, great conversation, a lot of running talk but more importantly WE were the ultra gurus. Jeffery and I were waxing on about our ultra exploits, I was quick to mention my 100, Jeffery training for States, we were the stuff! They were both talking about finishing somewhere between 10 and 11 hours so the last people I was worried about seeing were Chris and Amy.

So of course when I hit Buzzard's Cove, easily the coolest aid station in ANY ultra I've ever run, it pops up in the middle of nowhere, I was shocked to see Chris and Amy coming through looking right out of the pages of Runner's World magazine! I'm dying and they are coming through looking fresh! I never saw them again. I caught up with Amy at the end and they finished about 12 minutes ahead of me. Amazing job! Quick note on Buzzard's Cove, too. I don't know if these guys are the aid station captains but my friend Matt Keyes and my super pacer from my 100, Derek Semanski, were both there with words of encouragement and, best of all, ice cream! I can't wait to see the proofs of the pictures from the professional photographers at the race. As I crested one particular hill I had a cone in my hand and I smiled for the picture.

So there's there agony of defeat. While I was VERY excited for Chris and Amy, truly I was, I wasn't expecting that Chris, in his first 50 I might add, would pass me up at 35 miles! I look forward to running more around the streets of Lincoln with Chris in the future. They both finished at 9:10 by the way, incredible!

Now for the random thoughts portion of the race report:

- The bus ride up in the AM was nice. The bus left the Overlook at 4:15 AM, so I set my alarm for 3:15 AM, got up, started hydrating and eating and made it to the Overlook about 4:10. Again, for the ultra geeks, I had a Balance Bare Trail Mix chocolate chip bar and a banana before the race. I also had a bagel and a granola bar with me but I just couldn't muster up the desire to eat them. Back to Scott Dunlap's report, he went to Denny's and ate a Grand Slam! Maybe that's the key to a sub-8 hour finish. Back to the bus, we left a bit late and made it to the start by 5:15, the bus was silent as many of us, I think, fell back asleep. It was nice to see Rio Del Lago alum and good friend Monica Moore manning the check-in clipboard for the buses. I saw Monica at the race check-in on Friday, at the bus and then at a couple of aid stations along the way. She had a longer day than those of us who ran! She was fresh off a great run the previous week at the Lake Sonoma 50 miler and she'll be toe'ing the line at Miwok with me as well.

- Brief pause to say huge “thank yous” to all of the volunteers that help put on a race like this. The aid station folks were great all around.

- Somewhere around mile 23 or 24 a very jovial man came up from behind me and made a comment about what a wonderful day it was. It was clear his way of passing the day was chatting up runners that he caught from behind, offering words of encouragement. We started chatting and it was like pulling teeth to get out of him that he was 62, has run lots and lots of 100 mile races, including Western States 10 or so times, Badwater a couple of times and basically any other ultra you could imagine. He typically wins his age group, or is at least in the top 3. His name was Jim Magill, what a great guy and what an inspiration.

- Often times people ask me (last week as a matter of fact) how much longer I'll run these ultras before calling it good? I always say that I have no immediate plans to stop running, and that to be frank, the more miles I run and the better I take care of myself the better I've felt. I truly have that feeling at pushing 40 that I'm in the best shape of my life, and I've always tried to be in good shape. I've been actively running for 16 years, so why on earth would I ever want to stop? Now, if injury or accident should occur then obviously I'll be forced to rethink my current plans, but with the latest research coming out that shows that running actually increases bone density, cartilage, you name it, I truly feel that running is something that we all should do in some form or fashion (yes, people do have knee troubles, ankle problems, there are truly exceptions, but subscribe to Runner's World and every month you'll read stories of people who didn't start running until their 60's, people who shed addictions, people who were literally hundreds of pounds overweight who started walking, making it eventually to a run). I go on this tangent because Jim Magill. He has older grand children no doubt who have a grandpa that runs 100 mile races! I'd have to imagine that a lot of his kids and grandkids have adopted healthy exercise habits thanks to Jim's example. OK, enough on that, but I'm glad that Jim passed me, and yes, he finished ahead of me.

- I prepared for this run, as far as laying out what I needed, coming up with a plan for my wife, labeling my drop bags for her, etc., several days before the big event. I don't typically do that. It led to a rather peaceful Friday evening before the run and even as I left my house early Saturday morning I had a feeling that I had forgotten something. I didn't, but I always thought that if you were prepared enough that feeling wouldn't be there, turns out it's in my head!

Well, now that I qualified again to put in for Western States I'll do it. Time to start getting my heart broken by not making the lottery, but eventually I'll get in.

So next up, the Miwok 100k, my first stab at the 100k distance. Again, having a 100 miler in my back pocket makes me think 100k won't be a problem. But as I learned at this race, anything can happen at any point and it can last for a few miles, and then you can feel better. My goal at Miwok is simply to go out and have a nice, long run, and get all the cool stuff that I'm sure comes with the race.

Newsmessenger - Disneyland in an Hour or Less

2009-03-02T17:30:00.000-08:00

Have an hour to kill? Why not visit Disneyland? On a recent business trip to southern California I found myself staying in a hotel directly across the street from the happiest place on Earth. I called home to tell my wife that I could almost smell the chlorine in the Splash Mountain water when her sister, standing nearby, told her to have me buy some fudge from the candy shop and bring it back the following day. I laughed and wondered aloud whether or not I’d be able to hear the nightly fireworks from my hotel room when my wife said, “she’s serious.”

It was then that I learned about the little-known “shoppers pass.” Apparently you can check in at the front gate and let them know you’d like to run in and buy something. They take your credit card and start the clock. If you’re not back in an hour you might as well stay because you just paid $69 for a one-day pass. Ironically over a decade ago I was in Tokyo, Japan with a friend. We wanted a Tokyo Disneyland sweatshirt so we pooled our money together and sent him in with the goal of buying two sweatshirts. Unfortunately folks in Tokyo wanted US Disneyland merchandise so he came back empty handed.

The fudge shop was located right up front on the California Adventure side of the park. If I simply grabbed the fudge and left it would have taken me all of 10 minutes. I looked at my watch, looked down at my running shoes and thought to myself, “How many rides can I make in an hour?” I immediately took off running in a dead sprint toward the back of the park. If I was going to ride anything it would be Mickey’s California Screaming roller coaster with the double upside loops as well as the Mali-boomer, a ride that shoots you some 1000 feet straight up into the air causing you, and your stomach, to do a little weightless time before coming back down, hopefully with all contents intact.

While the running shoes were wonderful, the sweatshirt and long pants weren’t. I pulled out my cell phone somewhere around A Bug’s Life and squealed like a little kid to my wife, “I’m…running…to…the…roller…coaster…” I had never tried to carry on a conversation while attempting Olympic qualifying sprint speeds. I made it to the back of the line feeling excited, and that’s when it happened. The water works started.

I sweat, a lot. And running through a park wearing long pants and a sweatshirt on an unseasonably warm day didn’t help matters. When I came to a stop the teenage girls in front of me looked back and gave me a quick glance. Then they all turned back to me looking like they were watching me give birth! That was when I realized that my bald head was pushing out perfect drops of sweat like some bad play dough barber shop commercial. In a matter of seconds I was dripping wet, and all I had to mop up with was my sleeve, and it, too, was starting to darken with sweat.

Thankfully the rush of wind from the coaster cooled me off just in time to sprint to the Mali-boomer. I then glanced at my watch to see that I might have time to make it to the Tower of Terror if the line was short. It was, and I was Terrified! After getting off, I started at a more reasonable jog toward the park exit, ready to check back in and get my credit card. And then I remembered the fudge! Once again, the sprint, the sweat, only this time no ride to cool me off.

I made it back to the main gate with just a minute or two to spare. I had my fudge, my head was drenched. My once red sweatshirt was now covered in maroon patches, especially on my back and under my arms. The person manning counter asked to see my fudge, and the receipt and he handed me my card. As I started to walk away he yelled, “How many did you do?”

Feeling safe with my credit card in my wallet I said, “Three, but it was three good ones!”

“Not bad,” he said. “But the record is six!” Looks like I need to drum up a little more business down in Southern California.

Newsmessenger - Getting Muddy...At Least I Hope It Was Mud!

2009-02-10T21:52:00.000-08:00

Pictures follow the article...

If laughter truly is the best medicine, my wife will be the picture of health for years to come. I gave her quite an increase of white blood cells this past weekend while clearly depleting mine. Now, every time she looks my way she’s getting a booster shot. I’m afraid the story that is about to follow is not to be read by the weak of stomach.

Let me take you back a few short months ago. We decided to take on some major back yard improvements. Neither one of us cares much for yard work so once the crab grass had overpowered our real grass we knew it was time for a major overhaul. We have two dogs that require the back yard to, what’s the nice way to say it, eliminate. This project would require many people to work in our back yard from time to time thus requiring the need for some good old MacGyver ingenuity. First we put in a doggie door. Not in the door itself, its glass, but in the wall. Second, we created a dog run against the house made of stakes and chicken wire. My Tennessee relatives would have been proud. The dog run was entirely on cement, we wouldn’t have any grass for several weeks. So we put down a couple of pieces of sod and called it good.

For weeks we hailed ourselves as geniuses, virtual dog whisperers in our own right as the dogs seemed content to go out the doggie door and do their business on the sod. Every day or two I’d clean the solids and spray off the grass. I was shocked to see that the grass was actually growing. Turns out all I needed for a healthy, green lawn was a pad of cement underneath!

As time went on we began to notice a puddle here and a pile there inside the house. All kids are potty trained as far as we knew so we assumed it was the dogs. A few days ago we were met with a flat our revolt! The dogs refused to go on the sod. My wife and I decided that it was time to replace the sod and we purchased a couple of pieces and set out to swap out the old with the new. So far, so good.

My wife rolled the green waste can over and I climbed into the dog run. I was wearing gloves and I immediately started to roll up the first piece of used sod. I had barely started rolling when I was met with a stench that I can only describe as old grass, plus dirt, plus ammonia and “elimination” with equal parts rotten egg and plugged toilet. My gag reflex kicked in automatically. The smell hit my wife and it took her down to the concrete. I gathered myself and quickly apologized for making my little dogs sit out there for 15 minutes the previous night waiting for them to do their business (which they refused to do).

I held my breath, reached down and rolled the sod. As I rolled I noticed how wet the underside of the piece was. I picked up the sod and immediately felt its increased weight, the weight of weeks of watering, both by me and the dogs. I got it about waist high and realized I was losing it, both my lunch and the sod, but I was committed. I slopped the sod onto the lip of the green waste can and threw the other side over. The resulting “thud” sent what my wife kindly later called “mud” in a sheet across my face and jacket. It was at that time that I was starting to gag, so my mouth was wide open to receive the mud. I screamed, my wife started laughing and fell to the ground. I fell back against the house, eyes closed, mouth open and started laughing too, and shortly thereafter yelling for my wife to grab something to clean off my face, my eyes were starting to burn.

Seconds later my wife came back out with dipe wipes in one hand and a camera in the other trailed closely by two dogs with an odd look of justice on their furry faces. The taste in my mouth was far worse than anything I had ever experienced, even the liver and onions I was subjected to as a kid. I begged my wife to let me have a dipe wipe before my photo shoot, thankfully she obliged. The photos are now on her computer, as well as on my website for the world to see, as my wife says, purely for medicinal purposes.

Newsmessenger - Wants vs. Needs, Budgeting Taught By My 10-Year-Old

2009-01-26T17:34:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite parts in any good, cheesy movie is when the hero, often with his or her last breath, suddenly turns the tide on the evil genius and says, typically while overpowering the aforementioned bad guy, “So now the student becomes the teacher!” I’ve always wanted to use that line. I’ve tried a couple of times but it just hasn’t come out as hoped. Changing a diaper is about as close as I’ve been to solid (pun intended) use of the phrase but typically the baby being changed doesn’t pick up on the irony.

My wish was granted this past week not once but twice, both times by my soon-to-be 11-year-old (don’t call her 10!) daughter. First, a bit of background. For the past couple of months my wife and I have been trying this thing we've heard of called “a budget.” It hasn't been much fun. Here's the basic way it works. Whenever you want something, you have to tell yourself that you can't afford it. You also write down all of your expenses and, by about the middle of the month, you realize that you've spent more than you actually make, so you stop writing everything down and you go back to the way you were living content to try again next month.

This time, however, we're determined to at least track our expenses for 30 days. Actually, that's my out, I used that exact wording with my wife and I haven't told her which 30 days I'll be tracking. Definitely not last Wednesday when I left my power bars and raw nuts at my desk and ate In-n-Out followed by a Famous Amos Chocolate Chip cookie chaser.

The difference with this attempt at not just announcing, but sticking to the budget has been my constant preaching of “wants versus needs.” If I had a dollar for every time I've said the phrase over the past couple of months we wouldn't need to be on a budget in the first place. If you want to take the fun out of any shopping trip, other than bringing along four children, just say the phrase “is this a want or a need” whenever you even start to get excited about buying something. Inevitably the item ends up in the “wants” category which means that it's not going to find its way into the shopping cart.

I like to buy things. I'm like a kid at times, I just want to buy something for the sake of buying something. Money burns holes in my pocket. I don't care what it is, either. As long as I leave Target with a tube of Chapstick I'm OK. On this particular occasion I was eyeballing a funny t-shirt online. I called my daughter over to look at it. “Dad?” She asked, “Do you need it, or do you just want it?” I, well, um, it was a picture of Christopher Columbus and his crew meeting the cast of Gilligan's Island, to me that's a need! But alas, she deemed it a want, and told on me to my wife to boot! I was foiled by my own attempts at teaching economic discipline.

Just a few days later my daughter was asking me about my job. I'm sure at school they were talking about the economy, so she asked me if I was ever worried about being laid off? I explained to her that I worked for myself and that so far I had been relatively pleased with my own performance so I felt my job was safe. She said, “What if you aren't making enough money for the family, do you have a backup plan?” A backup plan? I already felt terrible about almost buying a $10 T-shirt and now she's asking me if I have my career ducks lined up in case of hard times? It took me nearly 40 years to finally become the teacher, now, how can I get my almost 11-year-old to resume her role of student?

Newsmessenger - What's in a Name? Just Call Me Bob

2009-01-11T22:46:00.000-08:00

Just call me Bob. After all, everyone at the gym is thanks to my wife. I've had my share of folks calling me “Toby” or “Troy” or “Baldy,” in my day but Bob? More specifically my wife has not only been allowing a gym acquaintance to refer to her husband of 17 or 18 years (I’m a guy, it’s hard to keep track!) as Bob for the past couple of months, but she's been participating.

Thanks to having a handful of kids in the home, four at last count, my wife and I go to the gym at different times. We left the kids at home once and pumped a little iron together, we were armed with a cell phone. But after the 7th call from our 4 and 6-year-olds asking which of their older siblings was “the boss” we quickly learned that they weren't quite ready to be under older-sister rule. So I go early, and she goes after I come home.

This schedule has led to many conversations where we try to tell a story about somebody that we might have both seen at the gym. “You know the guy with the red hat, always wears the dirty socks?”

“Does he bring a yellow water bottle, stare at his calves in the mirror and sing 80's rock songs between sets?”

“No, this guy has a green water bottle, stares at his triceps and sings 90's show tunes.”

“Oh, I have no idea who you are talking about.”

But occasionally someone comes in during the end of my workout and stays until she arrives. We'll call one of these guys in particular “Steve.” Steve is a nice guy; he'll always greet you with a smile and a story. Don't get me wrong, Steve works out. You see, there are definitely different types of gym-goers. There are those who go to socialize and those who go to work out. Steve is a hybrid of sorts. He works out, but he can socialize with the best of them. A true socialize will spend more time standing beside a machine talking than they do in front of one exercising.

It's important not to mix a “social exerciser” with a “serious exerciser.” The serious exerciser is one who has a limited amount of time and needs to get in and get out. When confronted with a social exerciser the serious exerciser will often avoid eye contact, or, in some cases, gravitate toward machines far away from the social exerciser in order to avoid getting caught up in conversation that takes away from the workout.

I'm convinced that a very well laid out gym will have machines from all major muscle groups scattered about in every corner of the gym in order to accommodate those hoping to avoid the social exerciser. But back to the story. Steve is a nice guy. I barely see Steve, but my wife sees him regularly. One day Steve asked her if “Bob likes James Bond movies?” I asked her, “Who's Bob?” She said, “I think it's you!”

Now she'll often come home and tell me that she talked about what Bob and she did over the weekend. Bob's favorite restaurant, basketball team, etc. I asked her why she didn't clear the air, let Steve know I’m a Tony and not a Bob? She told me that she didn't want Steve to feel bad. Well what about Bob...I mean me? Here she is living this secret life, at the gym no less, with Bob.

So today I finally see Steve and he says, “Hello Bob!” I correct him and fill him in my wife's kindness. Steve seemed to be OK with the correction; he didn’t run screaming toward the steam room vowing to steam himself to death. Another friend within earshot says, “You know, you kind of look like a Bob.” The two of them have vowed to continue calling me Bob.

My wife arrived at the gym and immediately found herself the butt of everybody's joke. But the best part? Steve was filling in one of the other folks my wife and I both regularly see on the story. Steve says “Can you believe it, for the past few months I thought her husband's name was Bob!” The friend had a chuckle, looked over at my wife and said in all sincerity, “I'll be Phil had a good laugh at that one.”

Newsmessenger - T-ball for Christmas, the Perfect Gift!

2009-01-04T19:38:00.000-08:00

Open the paper or watch the news this Christmas season and all you'll see are stories about the slumping economy. Try to park at the mall and you'll wonder why these people aren't reading the paper or watching the news! There's a phrase that says “One man's meat is another man's poison.” I'll be honest, I'd stay away from that meat but I do understand the sentiment. Thanks to the down economy I found Webkinz on sale 2 for 1, and for my kids that equals a very, Merry Christmas.

My wife and I, however, are using the down economy as good reason not to spend money on each other. Overall we feel we have everything we need, she'll still find a box of See's Candy in her stocking (or else I'll be sleeping on the couch Christmas night) and I expect a bag of Rolo's in mine, one of her favorite candies...hey wait, I've never put that together!

But ultimately my gift came early this year. On December 6th I walked into the Lincoln Community Center, head held high, check in hand, and signed my youngest up for t-ball. Not only did I sign him up, but I also filled out the coach's packet. I've dreamed of this event since the day my wife first threw up an Oreo shake some 12 years ago, the first sign of her pregnancy, and the last Oreo shake I had for several years. Not to worry, I’ve long since made up for that multi-year Oreo shake drought.

A girl hadn't been born into the Overbay line in nearly 80 years so it was a given that she would soon give birth to a future major leaguer. Imagine my joy as the doctor said, “It's a girl!” A girl who eventually discovered that traditional sports just weren’t her passion. Sure, we tried soccer, not my favorite, but there I was wearing baggy short and shin guards, whistle in hand trying to coach her but she quickly realized chasing a ball around a field wasn’t her idea of fun. She eventually found her niche and is an amazing runner, piano player and writer.

Pregnancy number two and surprise, it’s a girl! More shin guards, more soccer and eventually more piano and running. Daughter number two is winning races in her age group. I couldn’t be more proud, but still no baseball. Another pregnancy and another girl. This one loves art and dancing and is truly a joy to be around. But again, no baseball.

By the time my wife was pregnant with number four I was ready for another daughter. We had kept clothes and toys. I was thinking with my wallet, and not with my baseball mitt. And just when I thought my dream had died, I got my boy. And now comes the pressure. He’s 4, soon-to-be 5, and as his coach I’m already unsure of whether to bat him first, because of his blinding speed, or 4th, a natural clean up man. What college should he grace with his athletic presence? Or should he just go straight to the big leagues? Hang on, I’ll be right back. I have to help him tie his shoe. OK, maybe I’m jumping ahead just a bit.

And in my first bit of trying to make good with all the baseball types, I promised I’d make the announcement that the last day of signups are on January 3rd, from 1 to 5 PM at the Lincoln Community Center. So does the economy have you down? Not sure what to get for Christmas? Do you want a gift that keeps on giving…from February through June to be exact? Sign your kids up for Lincoln Little League, and consider it an investment. When my son signs his first $10 million a year contract in the summer of 2022 down economy or not I think we’ll be doing OK! Merry Christmas everyone!

Belated Helen Klein 50k Race Report - A Cautionary Tale

2008-12-30T17:35:00.000-08:00

My Helen Klein race report, both the writing and running of can be summed up with the same phrase, “Better late than never!” Admittedly I think I've run out of witty running analogies after my Rio Del Lago report, and quite frankly I think I ran out of words. I almost didn't even post a report for Helen Klein but I remember as a brand new ultra runner searching the web for info on any of the races I was thinking about running. I also had an incident with a drop bag that, well, I think it should be passed along as a cautionary tale in hopes of saving folks from a similar fate in future race. So with the calendar just a few days away from turning to 2009, I thought I'd write a few thoughts about the 2008 running of the Helen Klein Ultra Classic held November 1, 2008 in Granite Bay, CA.

It was wet! My goodness it was wet and at some points throughout the race it was cold and wet, and windy and cold and wet. To be honest I'm a bit of a fair weather runner. Many moons ago, I believe in 1998, I ran a rain soaked California International Marathon. It was my 2^nd marathon at the time. I had trained much better for it than I had the previous year when I crossed the line in my marathon debut at 3 hrs 52 minutes. I was happy with that time in 97, but in 98, watch out! Watch out for large puddles was more the case and I ran in a downpour. I remember essentially staring at my feet for 4 hours and just wishing the race would be over soon. I crossed the line in 3 hrs 54 minutes and I was bummed, but I realized that the weather had to have had something to do with the slower time despite my training.

Another memory of that race was my running attire. It was pre-technical fabric running shirts and I ran the race in a 100% cotton Utah Jazz t-shirt. It rained so much, and perhaps I sweat so much, that from that day forward I had 4 rust marks on the shirt from the safety pins that held my number in place. I've since moved on to be a number-on-my-shorts guy. But back to my fair weather running confession.

I didn't run in the rain again until last May, some 10 years later, the opening day of the Western States training camp. I was running with Western States entrant, and all-around swell guy Jeffery Johnston (who can now be seen, by the way, using his magic hands working with VeLoyce at Monsters of Massage!). The plan was to run both the first and second days of the camp in one day, allowing us to bag the Sunday run altogether (I don't typically run on Sundays). We would do 32 miles supported by WS aid stations and then we'd run another 18 miles on our own. It dumped rain. It poured rain! It rained and rained and rained and I wasn't prepared. I was cold, wet, and muddy but I tried to stay positive. After all, Jeffery was the one running States and I was merely a pacer. It was my duty to support him! So in hurricane-like conditions we found ourselves close to the finish of the first leg, I was very glad that he asked me if I would mind cutting the run short?

On the positive side, I was the type of runner who would do my best to avoid getting my feet wet up until that point. I blamed it on my expensive orthotics that I wore in my running shoes, but the truth was that I just didn't want to get my feet wet. This run cured me of caring about my shoes, my orthotics, you name it.

Back to HK. I had asked Jeffery if he had a waterproof running jacket I could borrow pre-race. He gave me his best one. Now fast forward to just an hour before the race. A few hundred of us, people running the 30k, 50k and 50 mile distance, are all huddled in the Cavitt Elementary Gym. It was dark, “pinch black” as my 4-year-old would say. It was also not raining. I spotted fellow new 100-mile alum Monica Moore at the check in table for the race. I asked Monica for her opinion on whether or not to wear the jacket. I had tried it on and it felt warm. I was starting to think about leaving it behind. Monica reminded me of how much I sweat...not sure if that was a compliment or not but point well taken.

As RD Norm Klein led the masses on the ¼ mile walk to the start I was one of the last ones to go. I was still debating whether or not to take the jacket. At the last minute I decided against it, I thought that it wasn't an impossible thought that the rain could break for a mere 4 hours to allow for a good race.

I made the hike to the start and sure enough, the skies started to open just a bit and a light drizzle fell. Still, no problem. Now, onto the good stuff. Just like for the start of RDL, thanks to some Homeland Security work on the levee, we would be forced to take a slight detour at the start and finish of the race. Thanks to the rain, the detour was nice and muddy. It was dark. Norm decided to send the 50 milers off first, then the 50k folks 2 minutes later and finally the 30k folks 2 minutes after us. He also delayed the start by 15 minutes to allow for a little extra daylight. All of these ideas sounded pretty darned good in purpose.

He started the 50 milers and all of the 50k folks made our way to the start. Within a couple of minutes he sent us off. I started off with a lead pack of about 5 or 6 runners. Within a quarter of a mile we had caught the last of the 50 mile folks who were diligently walking the uphills. It was a muddy, single track uphill and thus it posed a problem for those of us trying to get out to a bit of a fast start. All of a sudden we had gridlock, muddy gridlock no less.

The next couple of miles were spent trying to nicely pass the 50 mile runners on the muddy course when possible. Eventually I made my way to the American River bike path. I'd spend the next 27 or 28 miles on the bike path and I was quite content to do so. Unlike many trail folks I'm still a road runner at my core. I love the trails, love them more than I thought to be honest. After Rio I didn't run on a trail until this past Saturday. I did an easy 15 miler from Auburn to Cool and back and it was wonderful. I truly do like the trails, but I don't mind the road either.

For the next couple of hours there was very little to report save a few things that popped into my head when sitting down to type this report.

First, several people asked me why I felt the need to run a road ultra so soon after completing my first 100 miler. The answer was, “I don't know, I guess I just signed up.” My recovery from the 100 was great and I had been running fine for a couple of weeks prior to HK. With that said, about 4 miles into HK the skies opened and it dumped rain for a bit. I had roughly 27 or 28 miles to go. I had participated in many ultras over the past few months. I accomplished all of my goals...and here I was sloshing my way in the cold rain. I had a bit of a “why am I doing this?” moment. I had to just put my head down and keep on moving forward.

Second, it was lonely out there! Last year I ran HK as my 2^nd ever ultra. There are a couple of hundred runners between the three distances, but nothing like a good old 6,000 person marathon. Over 32 miles you can run many, many miles without seeing anybody. I mention last year because I ran the first 16 with my friend Jeffery. I then hit the turn around and saw a lot of people over the next few miles on my way back. Eventually I was running on my own but you couldn't swing a stick without hitting a biker (and trust me, I wanted to try several times). This year, thanks to the rain, there were no bikers. I was following a couple of people who turned out to be 30k runners, so they turned around at the 9'ish mile mark. I didn't see anyone again (other than aid station volunteers) until a couple of miles from the turn around when Michael Fink was sprinting the opposite way. He finished in a ridiculous 3:40-something and was running like a man possessed. He was truly in the zone. I saw the 2^nd, 3^rd and 4^th place finishers and then all of a sudden I was at the turn around. I was in 5^th place!

I made the turn and saw several 50k and 50 mile runners (I was extremely happy not to be running 50 miles this day, I thought about it for a few minutes before turning in my 50k registration). I then ran by myself for at least the last 12 miles, in the rain. No bikers, no spectators, no walkers, just me and the rain.

Third, I thought, after a successful 100 mile race, that I was smart enough to eat and drink enough to stay feeling great. But sure enough, it was cold and wet and I just didn't feel like eating frozen gels or drinking my special mix of Gu20 and Endurox. I'm sure that all came into play in my overall down mood the last few miles.

I could go on, but let me just first, thank the volunteers. Friends Steve Itano and Ling-Ru Chu were at the Hazel aid station and both were happy to tell me that they were glad they weren't running! And friends Melissa Johnson and Nancy Warren were at the next aid station and gave me the surprised, “Tony, you're in 5^th place!” Nancy walked with me out of the aid station on the way back with a cup of broccoli soup and told me to get out of there and place high! It's always fun to see familiar faces and especially those who are excited for you.

Now, basically the reason I decided to write this report even two months after the race. Let this be a lesson. Remember earlier when I said I set my bag of dry clothes down against a wall. That was foreshadowing. When I set my bag down that morning I was a bit surprised, and bumped, that a couple of folks decided to put their bags so close to mine. Hey, there's a whole gym, people! Spread out.

Now, I finished the race and was pretty happy to say I finished in 5^th place. I knew my family would be there and I saw my kids playing in the rain. I made it in the gym, soaked, cold, and expected a warm response from my wife. Not so much. Turns out she had just wrecked the van against a basketball pole in the parking lot. She put a pretty good dent in the side. Thankfully I went with the, “Are you OK?” as my first reaction. Always a good move! But my wife was rattled, and it showed. No excited, “You took 5^th!” No problem, we had promised the kids In-n-Out for coming out to watch Dad run so let's just get my dry clothes on and get out of there!

Norm gave me an award for finishing some place in my age group, and I went to the wall to find my bag. No bag. No problem, must have moved it somewhere. I walked all around the gym, in the locker room, still no bag. I was cold. I finally flagged down Norm and asked him where he put the bags that were against the wall where I left mine. Norm looked at the wall, and then looked at me. He said, “read to me what that sign says on the wall.”

“Sunrise Aid Station Drop Bags.”

My dry clothes were miles away at the Sunrise Aid Station. Quick directions from Norm, out to the dented van and I slipped into early hypothermia as we eventually found the aid station and my wife ran out and got my bag. The kids were patient, which was a pleasant surprise and before long I was in dry clothes and we were on our way to In-n-Out. By the time we got there my appetite had caught up to me and I indulged in a rare double-double. That, along with my fries, and the left overs of everybody else's fries and I had put a dent in the 4000 calorie deficit I had put myself in (according to my Garmin GPS watch).

So use my story as a cautionary tale, always look on the wall above where you leave your bag, and never forget a chocolate shake is a wonderful post-ultra recovery food.

Newsmessenger - Traumatic Dentistry

2008-12-04T16:16:00.000-08:00

Note - I've had a few people ask me if I was still writing for the paper. Writing, yes! Posting the articles to my blog, no! I'm going to do a little catching up over the next few days.

There I was, white knuckling the dentist chair. I couldn’t have been more than 14. Dr. Christensen’s size 10 right loafer firmly planted on my left cheek, left foot on the armrest of the dental chair. His two hands, which oddly always smelled, or worse yet tasted, of pepper, gripping the handle of a cartoonishly large pair of construction-grade needle nose pliers pulling desperately at my lower-right wisdom tooth.

“I’ll get you out of this mouth if it’s the last thing I do!” he said maniacally.

To this day, I wonder why he didn’t take all four at once. My guess was that he only had a couple of payments left on a boat and my bottom teeth would cover that amount quite nicely. Better to wait for his daughter’s wedding before extracting the top two.

I showed him, though. Some 20 years later and a thousand miles removed from that dental chair, I waited until one of those top two wisdom teeth abscessed, helping my then-dentist Dr. Tuttle re-roof his house or take the family to Disneyland with those extracted chunks of enamel.

At least he had numbed me. I was to the point that I looked forward to the shot and its accompanying round of the sweats, which always caused me to soak through my shirt.

Dr. Christensen had a bad habit of uttering a line that to this day sends a shudder up my spine — “I think we can fill this one without numbing you.”

It never worked. Eventually, I always needed the numbing. I’ve often wondered if a heart surgeon could get away with that line?

“The valve is quite close to the surface of the chest. I think if you bite down on this rolled up Highlights magazine, we should be able to fix it without bothering the anesthesiologist.”

And now back to my exaggerated memory. I felt a bead of sweat drop from Dr. Christensen’s uni-brow and land smack-dab on the portion of my tongue that housed the taste buds for sweetness, and suddenly I felt a gagging sensation. Well, that’s not exactly what happened. Funny how things that seemed so dramatic, so intense as a kid were, well, quite a bit less dramatic once you put them into context as an adult.

Dr. Christensen did remove my two lower wisdom teeth somewhere around the time when the A-Team was battling it out with Magnum P.I. in the ratings. A time when the phrase “the plane” made you think of a fantasy about to be realized and not removing your shoes and wondering if anybody will notice that your toothpaste tube is .6 ounces too big for your carry-on.

When I was a kid, a trip to the dentist meant filling cavities. Preparation for the dentist was much like cramming for a test. The night, or sometimes morning, before, I would dig through the cupboard and find that old dusty container of floss. I would then proceed to turn that white floss string red from the bloody gums that accompanied my semi-annual flossing. I would be very certain to brush daily, sometimes even twice a day for at least three days leading up to the visit. The goal was to knock down the layer of what I liked to think of as “fur” off my teeth before sitting in the chair.

As an adult and father, it’s humorous to see the dentist through a much different lens. I now floss daily. It’s not because I’m passionate about flossing, it’s because if I don’t I know I’ll get a cavity, and I have crummy (translation, little to no) dental insurance. That means I’m out a couple of hundred bucks for a filling, heaven forbid we’re talking crown or root canal.

I’m also hyper-vigilant about my kids brushing and flossing habits. Four kids plus two adults, divided by terrible to no insurance, times a bad genetic hand (I’ve often said my wife’s teeth are made of candy corn) equals an awful lot of money when we let the oral hygiene slip. I’m now convinced that my parents looked the other way with my youthful dental practices, thanks to what was probably pretty darned good dental insurance. But lucky for my family, the first thing I noticed was that our dentist has tiny feet. Perhaps their childhood memories won’t be as traumatic as my visits to Dr. Christensen.

Manda Run - Family 5k

2008-11-09T22:23:00.000-08:00

I’m starting to wonder if I have a glimpse at what it must have been like to be Michael Phelps parents. Granted, I haven’t spent a lot of time researching the swimming phenom’s childhood but I’m guessing he didn’t climb to the top of the winner’s podium for the first time in Beijing. I figure he was a pretty decent swimmer as a kid.

Well, I’m wondering if I have another Michael Phelps living under my very roof! Only in this case my version of Michael Phelps is female, stands 4 foot and some change and is making her mark on two feet instead of in the water.

My daughter McKinley, 8, won her age group a couple of Saturday’s ago at the Manda Run, a 5/10k race held in Loomis, CA to benefit the L. B. E. F., or Loomis Basin Educational Foundation. According to the L.B.E.F. website, their mission is to “enhance educational opportunity and to support the strategic plan of the Loomis Union School District for the benefit of our children.” The Overbay mission for the day was to see 5 out of the 6 members of the family finish a 5k race!

J and J Sports Productions put on the event. I’ve become a big fan of J and J thanks to their well organized 4th of July Roseville Crime Stopper’s 5k (my oldest two daughter’s first 5k) and their annual Resolution Run, which I highly recommend, held at 2 PM on New Year’s Day (5k, 10k and 10 mile options on the Auburn trails no less!).

McKinley is now 3 for 3 in the medal department. And, much like Phelps in many of his races, she made this one look easy. My oldest daughter Alexa decided to sit this one out. She invited her friend Aisley and they spent the morning chasing down frogs and cheering us all on. Wendy, still nursing a pretty bad case of plantar fasciitis, planned on running with 6-year-old Sydney and 4-year-old Jake.

Race morning couldn’t have been any better. I went out for a quick 7-mile run early to get the legs tired and felt a pretty good chill in the air. It had been 2 weeks since my 100 miler and the 7 miles definitely wore me out. I was planning on going 10 but figured I better save some just in case McKinley went for it. I’m glad I did! By the time the sun rose the chill was gone and we were all able to leave jackets and long sleeve shirts in the car.

The kids were extremely excited for the race. Jake had been counting down the number of sleeps for almost a week and he had his clothes for the race laid out by about Wednesday for the Saturday morning run. J and J offered a “Family Registration” which was tailor made for us. For $25 you could register your entire family, with a minimum of three registrants. I had signed up McKinley, Alexa and myself a few weeks ago. They also offered a 1/4-mile kids “Fun Run” which I thought would satisfy Syd and Jake. I was wrong. They had already felt snubbed in not running either of the previous 5k’s that their sister’s had run so they let me know that 1/4 mile was not going to cut it. In our family runs they have done surprisingly well typically completing a lap or two around the neighborhood at roughly .75 miles per lap.

Wendy agreed to run with the two youngest. She figured that she’d run half a mile and walk the remaining 2.5 miles with the little guys and try to make it a positive experience. So I attempted to sign up a second family group for an additional $25. J and J told me that Wendy, Syd and Jake could be rolled into my original family registration, a very kind gesture, but I told them I didn’t want them losing money on the Overbay family just because we liked to run (they provided very nice goody bags with t-shirts, water bottles and snacks!). Just to be safe, I sent an additional $25 in which they said would go directly to the L. B. E. F.

There were about 225 people running either the 5k or 10k. A quick look at the post-run results showed that 175 of them were running the 5k. The atmosphere at the start was festive. There was a band (not of the marching variety) as well as a bounce house. I thought I might lose the youngest two to the bounce house but they were definitely in “race mode” and were getting excited for the start.

Jake, Sydney and Wendy at the start

Before we knew it the gun had gone off and 5 of the 6 Overbay’s were running a 5k! I’ve always dreamed of the family running a race together, even if it was only 5/6th we were well ahead of schedule of when I thought this might happen.

Mac tackling the first hill...all smiles!

McKinley and I moved ahead of Jake, Syd and Wendy and we quickly gone into a groove. The course was a nice out and back, 1.55 miles out, and 1.55 miles back. I love this type of course because you can see the leaders hoofing it to the end and on your way back you can cheer for those on their way out. I taught my kids the joy of the “low five” when passing little kids on the way back and I figured we’d have plenty of low five opportunities. There were a couple of good hills, too. We were about a quarter mile into the run and I looked down at my Garmin GPS watch and saw that we were running a sub 9 min/mile pace. This was a good clip for an adult so I quickly checked in with Mackie. “You want to slow down?”

“No, I’m fine.” She was all smiles. She’s wasn’t even breathing hard. We started passing a few of the smaller folks who had truly gone out too fast. We were also passing an adult or two and I remember thinking that we should really slow down.

We hit the first significant hill and I recommended that we walk it. Mackie shot me down. We kept a good pace up the hill and before we knew it we were at the 1 mile mark, an aid station. I glanced down at my watch and we hit mile 1 at 9:25, still way ahead of pace. If we kept this up we’d break 30 minutes. Mackie’s best so far was 37 minutes for a 5k (her first 5k was 38 minutes). We grabbed a drink and walked while we pounded the water. That would be the last walking we’d do until the end!

We quickly started seeing the leaders on the way back. We shouted words of encouragement and kept up our own speedy pace. Quick admission here, at each of the 5k’s I’ve done with the kids there’s been a small part of me that wonders how I could have faired had I run the race for my own time. I’ve never trained so much as I have for my 100 miler so I figured I could do OK. Granted I’ve been told by a few veteran 100 mile runners that 100 mile pace and 5k pace are two different things. True enough, I was 2 weeks post-100 and with Mackie’s pace my legs were definitely tired. With all my fatherly pride, however, when I saw the winners time of 18 minutes and a few seconds I announced to the kids, “I could have beat that!” But these races are about building the confidence of the kids, and Mackie’s confidence was riding high!

We joked and laughed, pointed out various farm smells and looked at animals in the yards of the houses we passed. We soon hit the turn around and again I glanced at my watch, we were still on sub- 30 minute pace and Mac was just cruising.

It wasn’t long and we saw Wendy, Jake and Syd just past the first aid station. They were all smiling. I yelled to Wendy, “How’s it going?” Thankfully she said, “Really good!” She sounded surprised, everybody appeared to still be running.

Jake, Syd and Wendy still running just past mile 1!

We blew through the mile 2 aid station (same as the mile 1 aid station on the out-and-back). Mac said that she felt fine and she could go the rest of the race without water. Mackie then started doing something that made me know without a doubt that she had a little of my DNA. She started spotting kids up ahead of her and sizing them up. “Do you think that boy is in my age category?” We picked off one, then another, just like her dad!

All of a sudden we were rounding the turn for the finish and I realized I wasn’t filming. I grabbed my camera, turned it on and captured her finish. She finished amazingly strong, a new PR in 29:53, good for first place in her age group! 7 minutes off her record AND first place! You can watch Mac's finish by clicking here.

Mac crossing the line sub-30 minutes, first girl 10 and under (and she's 8!)

We quickly ran back to the corner to look for the rest of the crew. From a distance I could see a small girl running in a red shirt. It had to be Syd! Wendy and Jake were wearing the same shirts (Overbay “Crew” shirts from my 50 and 100 mile runs) but I couldn’t see them. They HAD to be there! There was a good sized group of women running together so I figured I just couldn’t see them.

As the group came closer I realized that my 6 year old, in her first ever 5k, had left Wendy and was running with a group of women! It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. As she drew closer I started yelling, “Go Syd!” One of the women running in the group said, “I picked up a friend! Don’t worry, I’m a first grade teacher.”

Syd and her new friend nearing the finish.

Wendy told me later that Jake ran out of gas somewhere close to the turn around and Syd just kept going. Wendy threw Jake on her back and tried to keep up but couldn’t. This first grade teacher said, “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

I jumped in and ran and filmed Syd as she crossed the finish line. As we drew closer Syd picked up the pace and passed a lady whose husband had come up beside her. She said, “Do you see who I’m getting beat by?” I said, “She’s 6!”

Syd crossing the line with plenty left in the tank.

When the crowd saw Syd they started going crazy and Syd cruised in at 39:51 for her race debut. She was amazing! I left Syd with Alexa, Aisley and McKinley and ran back to the corner just in time to catch Jake and Wendy. Jake was running strong. I didn’t know at this point that Wendy had carried him a bit but still, the guy is 4 and he’s finishing strong! Same drill, I filmed him running the finish and again the crowd goes nuts! Jake breaks the tape at 41:45 beating 30 other runners and clearly the youngest finisher of the day. Wendy came in just behind him so he can always say he beat his Mom in his first race. You can see Syd and Jake's finish by clicking here.

Jake finishing his first 5k at the age of four.

We stayed for the medal ceremony and Syd, Mackie and Jake all ran in the 1/4 mile fun run as well. Mackie picked up first in her age group and I actually grabbed 3rd in my age category. In ultra marathons the Male 30-39 year age category is typically one of the largest. On this day there were plenty younger and older but not many for me to compete against so I grabbed my medal happy to have an award for one of my slowest 5k’s.

We caught a few frogs, played on the playground and then made our way home, everybody happy with a great day at the races. HUGE thanks to the folks at J and J Sports Productions as well as the folks from the Loomis Basin Educational Foundation. Paul, the treasurer, made sure to get a picture of the entire family after the finish and thanked us for supporting the foundation.

The Manda Run will most definitely be on the Overbay calendar in 2009. Is it too soon to start grooming the kids for the 10k?

Rio Del Lago 100 Mile Race Report in 22,000 Words or Less

2008-10-16T17:23:00.001-07:00

I ran 100 miles! I still can't get over that. Every day that passes since the race, and unfortunately it's been a few now (Tony's note – OK, 3 weeks before posting this report!), I'm a bit tardy in putting my thoughts to screen, the entire event just seems so surreal. I expected to be sore, VERY sore for several days and yes, I woke up in the middle of the night on Sunday and felt like I had been run over by a truck. But then the strangest thing happened. On Monday morning I called my wife over to watch me walk down stairs…semi-normal! Typically I spend a couple of days walking down the stairs backwards, much easier on the quads, but there I was Monday looking like a regular human being!

By Tuesday I really only had soreness in my calves. I visited VeLoyce in the Monster Den for a post-race deep-tissue massage and it wasn't anything like I expected. Sure, he made it hurt, but anyone who has ever been to VeLoyce knows that he enjoys making it hurt.

By Wednesday I felt mostly back to normal. This from a guy that used to waddle for a week after marathons! On Thursday I had enough, I woke up at my usual time of 4:45 AM, I was to the gym when it opened at 5 AM and I lifted weights and spent half an hour, easy mind you, on the elliptical machine. On Friday it was 45 minutes and on Saturday I did a 45 minute ride up Mount Kilimanjaro with my wife (OK, on the bike at the gym, it was the Mt. Kilimanjaro program). The reason I'm going on and on about my recovery is a) let's face it, to feed my ego and to have people reading this to say, "wow, what a real man!" but more importantly b) to let people know who stumble upon this race report prior to running their first 100 mile run and read one that says it was a GOOD EXPERINECE. That is wasn't even remotely as bad as many that I've read.

I'd love to explore this further at some point in the future. Since I've been doing ultras, roughly 12 months, I've definitely run more and suffered less than I have during my entire running career. I always point back to one distinct moment about 7 or 8 years ago. I worked for a software company and often had to go upstairs to talk to engineers (insert engineer jokes here, there are plenty). I remember walking up the stairs thinking, "Man, my legs are tired!" And I thought to myself, they'll always be tired thanks to the fact that I'm a "Marathon runner!" Well, here I am 7 or 8 years later an "Ultramarathon runner" and I don't have those same thoughts. I can run day after day and the legs feel fine. I really think a big part of that is that now I ALWAYS run with a handheld water bottle. Whether I'm running 3 miles or 13 on a weekday morning I run with water and I down an entire bottle. I believe that helps with recovery. I also eat immediately after I'm done. A yogurt, banana, apple, etc. Anyway, something to explore another day. I realize if I keep this up now I'll never finish this race report.

Race reports are wonderful, by the way and I read them all. Sure, they're self-indulgent, but I think they can serve a purpose whether to learn, motivate, etc. Short, long, I read any 100 mile race report that I could find in preparation for my first hundred and the majority of them talked about losing toenails, gigantic blisters, hallucinations, extreme low points. I had myself a tiny bit freaked out about what this whole adventure was going to look and feel like. And now, looking back, I almost feel like I didn't get my money's worth! No blisters, no extreme lows, my legs stayed with me until the mid-80's, I didn't puke (although I did come close), I didn't fall, I didn't yell at anybody, I just had a great time! Well, actually I did have one injury of sorts, more on that later.

UPDATE – Here I am almost two weeks post-run and I might lose a toenail! Whohoo! It'll be my first! Not exactly as exciting as having our first child, but my left-middle toenail is purplish-black. I'm afraid to cut it, touch it, etc., but my wife definitely thinks that thing is coming off. I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment when my pacer Derek emailed me a day after finishing Rio and simply said, "Welcome to the club." I expect similar good feelings in joining the lost toenail club. DOUBLE UPDATE – Now almost three weeks post race and I think it's just some sort of blood concentration in my toe. Bummer!

So if you find yourself reading this report prior to your first 100, if you're unsure whether or not you can run a 100, if you're signed up to run the Rio Del Lago 100, you can do it!

OK, onto the race report…

I have to say that about 3 weeks ago I decided I was going to finish, regardless. I know that sounds kind of like a no-brainer, but I truly do believe you have to take the "I might not finish" out of your mind set. Pacer extraordinaire Derek Semanski emailed me a couple of days prior to the race and shared some information that he had provided his crew prior to his successful Western States 100 run last year (24 hours and some change). He said that he told them no matter what he said during the race, he wanted them to make him keep running, unless he had sustained an injury that could cause some long-term damage. I liked that idea, so I shared that with my crew.

So I was mentally ready for whatever the day gave me. I've heard folks use the term "death march" to describe what the last miles of a 100 can feel like. I even read a report where a guy said he did a 55 mile death march to the finish. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want to resort to walking it in but I wanted to finish above all, so death march or not, I was going to do it.

Part of the reason is I have such a darned big ego! I let FAR too many people know I was running the race. I didn't want to have to craft a story about me being TOO fast that they pulled me for fear of my health, or that I got bit by a rattlesnake or something like that. Now, to be honest, worst case, I was prepared to slather my calf with beef gravy and let my two yorkies have at it and tell people I was attacked by a bear! Thankfully that would not be necessary!

Truthfully, telling a bunch of people was some pretty serious motivation. A few years ago I was fortunate enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Leading up to Boston I not only told a zillion people, but I took advantage of technology and put together an email list of folks that would get updates of my progress along the Boston course thanks to a chip attached to my shoe. That turned out to be a terrible idea. What a hundred or so friends and family were able to watch was my complete disintegration via email. They saw me start fast and then every 5k they received an update that saw me slow down a bit, then a bit more, and then, if they did the math, found me basically crawling the last 10k of the race course. Here I was, once again, letting the whole world know that I was about to run 100 miles. If I failed I'd have to deal with a few days of why I didn't make it. It was much easier to simply go with, "I did it!"

This is me inserting random pictures to break up all of the text. This picture was taken at the Maidu Aid Station about 46 miles into the race.

I have a feeling this baby is going to go long. So if you're just interested in the details I ran 100 miles and change. Approximately 2 or 3 miles of change as my 2^nd pacer and I got lost sometime around mile 75. Makes for a better story, that's why we did it! We learned at the pre-race briefing that some 116 people had signed up for the 9^th running of the Rio Del Lago 100 Mile Endurance Run. I read post-race that 96 eventually toed the line with only 50 finishing the race. I finished in 25 hours 12 minutes and 58 seconds, good for 24^th place overall. For those who won't read the blog that'll be 24^th out of 116 of course.

I wish I would have kept track of all the foods I ate, salt tablets I consumed, but I didn't. My plan was to go with a GU Gel every 45 minutes, a salt tablet every hour and I was trying my best to pound about 48 oz. of fluid each hour as well. I carried two hand-held bottles, one with pure water, the other with a rather potent mix of 5 scoops of GU2O and one scoop of Endurox. More on that later. I ate boiled potatoes dipped in salt, I had soup, broth, tried a PB&J, a grilled cheese, I ate several packs of Shot Blocks (those were good!) and Jelly Beans (went down great!) and made it about half way through a pack of Sharkies (not working for me). After about 35 miles or so I had my first craving…Mtn. Dew. I don't drink Mtn. Dew, but for some reason it sounded great…and it was. Again, more on that later. Heck, I just gave the view from 30,000 feet, let's get to the details!

Let's go back in time.

I was born on an overcast November day in 1969, the 24^th to be exact. OK, too far back, let me fast forward a bit. I've written on more than one occasion that I'm still a newbie when it comes to ultra marathons. A year ago in June I volunteered at the Western States 100 mile endurance run (and almost backed out at the last minute!), met my ultra running sensei (and Lincoln neighbor) Jeffery Johnston and the rest is history, sort of. Despite hitting the ultra scene running (literally) I had no desire to run a 100 mile race. Last October I was signed up to run the St. George marathon, and Jeffery talked me into running a 50k the next weekend. Still not sure how he did that, but we ran it and I was hooked. 6 more 50k's and one 50 miler and, to be honest, I was pretty pleased with myself as an ultra runner. I figured IF I ever did a 100 mile run it would be NEXT year…and when next year came it would be pushed out to the NEXT year. I truly wasn't feeling the call of the 100.

Jeffery got into Western States and he asked me to pace him. I was pretty content with pacing him the last 40 miles, taking a few summer months off before deciding how much I wanted to race the end of this year. Well, Western States was cancelled thanks to all of our forest fires and Jeffery, in 100 mile shape, said, "Let's do Rio Del Lago together!" I believe we were at a deadline for entry, not that you couldn't get into the race, but you'd save $10 for registering early. So for that $10 savings I made the decision on a Friday afternoon in an attempt to get my entry post-marked. I was in. And shortly thereafter Jeffery was out! He had a bad case of Achilles tendonitis. His Dr. recommended he take a couple of months off of running. So that led me to A LOT of solo long runs. For about a month and a half I bumped up my daily mileage to somewhere between 7-9 miles a day and I tried to do a marathon distance or more every Saturday.

At about 5 weeks out I did a 32 mile run in 100 plus degree heat, then 4 weeks out I did a 35 miler, again in the heat and 3 weeks out I was planning on doing 40-something miles on a Friday afternoon in the middle of the heat but I only made it about 28 and I was done. I was a tiny bit burned out at that point. I was doing 70+ mile weeks, it was hot and I was done. Some afternoons I would come home from work, and in the name of a "heat workout" I'd run another 4 or 5 miles as long as it was over 100. This was on top of the morning running.

One particular day I ran a half marathon distance in the AM, then, since it had hit 105 I decided to do a quick 5 miles when I got home. I had just gotten out of the shower and my two oldest daughters asked if I'd run with them in anticipation of their upcoming 5k. Never wanting to discourage them from running I said sure and we ran about 3 miles together, so there I was in the middle of the week running 21 miles. Even with that said I wondered if I was underprepared in the weeks leading up to Rio. There were a lot of folks saying that they typically ran at least one 50 mile training run leading up to a hundred mile race. My last 50 miler had been at the American River 50 mile race in April! (Tony's note – In re-reading the race report, which took several days mind you, I realize this might be as good as any point to say I think in the future I could get away with actually a bit less in the weekly mileage department. I probably would be too paranoid to do so, but I really think I could have).

The taper

I'll try to make this section short. I decided on a 3 week taper. Jeffery helped me work out a schedule that had me stopping my weight lifting a week and a half out. I had also made the decision to stop eating ice cream 3 weeks out. That was hard! I eventually caved and allowed myself to eat it only on Saturday nights. So on Saturday I would essentially cram an entire quart into a bowl. Those bowls were stacked to the sky, and I finished them, no problem. But I wasn't running much, I was taking a couple of days off each week and it was starting to drive me crazy. The last 3 days leading up to the race I did some serious carbo-loading (potatoes, noodles, deli sandwiches) and drank Gatorade like crazy and I hit the pre-race weigh in definitely NOT feelings like an ultra runner. I'll share my weight because a) I'm not a girl and b) it comes into play later in the report. I hit the scales around 168, a solid 6 lbs above my normal cruising weight which is a solid 10 lbs above where I'd really like to be. As a matter of fact as I sit here on the couch typing this report I can see my monitor for my desktop computer. I have it set to randomly show pictures from my computer. It just popped one up from this summer, me getting ready to jump in a pool. After I go crazy with junk food this week I really need to a) lose those extra 10 lbs and b) look into some sort of self-tanning crème! (Tony's note – 3 weeks later and I'm still eating ice cream every night, yeah baby!)

Pre Race Meeting

Friday before the race all runners met at Cavitt Elementary School in Granite Bay to receive pre-race packets, to get instruction for race day and to weigh in. There were several familiar faces at the check-in, and once again I was amazed at the shapes and sizes of those who ran 100's. There were very young (16-year old phenom Michael Kanning, with his sights set on a sub-20 hour finish) and very old. There were people who seemed to be a tad bit on the chunky side and there were others who came in looking like typical runners, i.e. skinny.

Rio Del Lago is run by race director Norm Klein. Norm is a character. He's 70 years old and he is very much still a runner. Two weeks before the race there was an organized training run covering the final 17 miles of the course. Norm wanted to keep the training run free, so he couldn't go pull a permit to let us all do our own thing, mark the trails, have aid stations, etc., so he told us we'd be staying together. The way he ensured that we'd stay together is that he led us on the first 6 miles of the run! We had a train of close to 50 people running single track trails. We stopped several times along the way whenever a) Norm came to a spot that reminded him of a story or b) whenever Norm needed a break. Ultimately the training run was a lot of fun despite it taking a LONG time to complete. I joked that Norm was like a docent for Sutter's Mill or somewhere like that, filling us in on the history of a particular stretch of trail, telling us a story about a previous runner, or spinning a tale about how the skunk got its stripe.

Norm was truly in his element at the pre-race meeting sharing stories of bravado (he got into an altercation with a gentleman the day before the race who was pulling down the trail markers because he felt that trail runners left too much garbage on the trail – this will come into play in a mere 20 pages or so) and stories of inspiration. He pulled several runners out of the crowd and told us stories about fast times or miraculous finishes. He let us know that it's hard to drop from one of his races. He said if you're thinking about dropping you have to inform an aid station captain who will then call Norm and have you talk to Norm. By the time you're done you're back on the course!

Norm announced that this was his final year heading up RDL and that he was talking to a few folks about possibly taking over the race. I'm glad to have run Norm's final hundred but I was also a bit disappointed to think that the race could disappear. With it in my backyard, I had already decided if all went well I would like to do this one more than once.

He also answered a question about how well the trail was marked. He said you could close your eyes and reach out your hands and feel the markers. This is called foreshadowing!

My Crew

Since Jeffery couldn't pace me he became my crew chief. I also was able to grab his pacer, sub-24 hr Western States finisher Theo Wirth. Theo would pick me up at Cavitt Elementary and take me the last 33 miles. I initially had planned on having a couple of my local running buddies, Kevin and Cody pace me from the Auburn Overlook to Cavitt, around 21 miles. Kevin and Cody had recently both completed their first half marathons, both had great races. I had taken them both up to the trails and they both seemed to enjoy the experience. Then I talked Kevin into driving down to Oakland with me and running the 30k portion of the Pacific Coast Trail Runs Sequoia run. More on that in my Sequoia report, but let's just say the day wasn't kind to the 17-year-old Kevin. He, for all intents and purposes, retired from running after the 30k.

Cody felt so great after his half that he put in for the St. George marathon lottery, and got in! He then went on a 5 or 6 week no-running bender and decided to back out of the marathon. So I had no one for that section of the course. At first I thought I'd be fine, but the more I thought about it the more I wanted a pacer for that section of the course. I didn't know the course, and I would cross that mental threshold of 51 miles, longest I had ever run. Luckily Derek Semanski had dropped me a note and asked how my training was going. I've been a big Derek fan since meeting him on the trails close to a year ago. He has been extremely supportive when I've run with him, and he's cheered me on both at the American River 50 and the Way Too Cool 50k. He's by far the coolest cucumber I've ever met. Even keel and I really like that about him. He's also finished Western States with a time of just over 24 hours, so I know this cat can run!

I started feeling Derek out, asking him if he was planning on being around for any of the race. When he threw out in an email that he was going to hang out at Cavitt and be ready as an emergency pacer I ran into that open door crack and asked him if he could pace me from the Overlook to Cavitt. He agreed and I suddenly had quite the All Star team!

I had lunch with Jeffery the day before the race and he had mentioned that he'd been told he was a type A personality a couple of times that week. For your crew chief that's a good thing! I've seen his garage, the guy is organized, plus you should have seen his pre-Western States crew handbook. I swear it was 50 pages; it had everything from what he'd need, how he'd feel and what to do if the weather turned, all broken down in 5 degree increments (OK maybe not that detailed). When we established that he'd be my crew chief about 2 months prior to the race he asked me weekly if I had my race plan laid out. I finally told him that I'd be lucky to have my act together the day before the race. I showed him, though; I had all my stuff laid out TWO days before the race.

My Plan

OK, so for those aspiring to run their first hundred here's my advice…hire Jeffery to be your crew chief and ask Derek and Theo to pace you, period, end of story. I read a couple of race reports this past week of folks who either tried to run a) solo, without a crew or pacer or b) who ran with a crew full of non-runners and it was a completely different ball game. You should have seen the organization and the precision of my team. I bought them all matching shirts and running hats. I decided not to put my name on the shirts, though, because I figured that'd guarantee they'd be a "one and done" shirt. We looked good!

One crew experience stands out, and it summed up the day for me. First, I'm terrible at remembering aid station names, but it was when Derek and I came running into one of the "Bar" aid stations, either Horseshoe Bar or Rattlesnake Bar. I was feeling GREAT. First, Derek had a funny thing that he'd do before an aid station. Despite the fact that our plan had been for him to lead, me to follow, when we knew we were close he'd tell me to take the lead. "You go in first and get the glory." That was awesome because by this point in the race the runners were so spread out that when you did come into an aid station you were a bit of a rock star for that minute or two.

We came into this particular aid station and immediately I feel like a NASCAR car in a pit stop. I stop and Jeffery hands me a cold Ensure, "Sip it, not too fast!" Then he starts talking to Derek, "How's he doing, what's he eating?" Meanwhile he now has a cold towel on the back of my neck and another in my hand; I'm wiping the sweat from my bald head and wiping off my arms. I also notice he has my fanny pack and he's replenishing my gels, my salt. Derek is telling him what I've been eating, that I'm running well. My wife is right there beside me and she says, "Is it weird that they're talking about you and you're standing right here?" I just smiled and said, "It's awesome!" Then I said in my best caveman, "Tony job run, Derek make Tony eat, Jeffery keep Tony happy, Tony happy, Tony run!"

And so it was throughout the race. Tony run, Tony happy! When I pulled into an aid station where Jeffery was it was towels, pack check, Ensure, change of socks, lube (and later in the race rubber glove for amount of lube necessary, more on THAT later). My only craving of the day was Mtn. Dew. I told Jeffery I wanted one when I was up around Cool, in the 30-something mile range. I really just wanted a cold, carbonated soda and I knew as a non-caffeine drinker that the caffeine would probably do a number on me to pick me up. And I used to drink a TON of Mtn. Dew, Diet Mtn. Dew to be precise, prior to giving them up. Jeffery had 4 bottles waiting on ice for me by the time I hit the Overlook. Later in the race when my tummy was struggling a little bit that Mtn. Dew hit the spot! Then sometime around 3 or 4 AM when my system was raw that was like liquid lightening, definitely kept me going.

Seriously, though, if Jeffery, Derek and Theo aren't available, or if their asking price is too high after announcing their precision to the world, I can't stress enough how important and comforting it was to have such a good crew. Only 50 people finished the race, 46 dropped. I never really experienced any of the lows, the concerns over heat, any of that and I truly believe it's because Jeffery kept me so well hydrated, cooled, fed.

The night before the start

RDL is local so I was able to sleep in my own bed. I grabbed Spaghetti Factory on the way home (marinara and browned butter with mazithra cheese, if you haven't tried the browned butter yet you are truly missing out) and learned that my three girls were spending the night at a friends. That left just the boy and he goes down easily. He was asleep by 8:30 PM and the house was quiet. It was perfect. I was actually able to get to bed by around 9:45 PM. You often read that the night before the night before the race is your best bet for sleep. That night I had gotten to bed around 10 PM but I woke up at 4 AM, wide awake. I only mention this because thinking about running through the night is strange enough for the race, but if you keep in mind that most folks only got a couple of hours of sleep the night before, it's just amazing what the human body can do!

Race morning

I set the alarm for 3:30 AM. Once again, Jeffery, the man, insisted that he pick me up and take me to the start. He said he didn't want me driving home by myself after the race. There was a chance my family wouldn't be able to make the finish. I didn't need the alarm, I woke up around 2:45 AM and went downstairs and watched TV and ate a couple of granola bars and started drinking more Gatorade. Man I was getting sick of Gatorade! Quick side note, at the pre-race meeting some students were doing a hydration and electrolyte study on those of us who wanted to participate. They claimed they would be able to tell you how hydrated you were pre-race and then give you some reading afterward. At the pre-race check I was told I was very well hydrated. That actually took a bit of the edge off and I eased up a bit on my drinking Friday night and Saturday before the race.

Jeffery was going to pick me up at 4:45 AM, the race started at 6 AM and we were about 35 to 40 mins from the start. I was ready to go at 4:30 AM so I walked into the living room to wait by the window. There was Jeffery. Turns out he didn't get much sleep either, so off we went.

The Start

Start slow, start slow, start slow. I had been rehearsing this mantra for weeks. I knew it was the right thing to do, although I can't lie, every now and again I thought, "maybe I could just go for it, run at a decent clip for 50 miles and then struggle the rest of the way in!" Thankfully I stuck to my game plan.

Monica Moore, Deb Paquin and me at the start…all smiles and one bright light!

I can now admit one dumb thing I did the week before the race. I have a friend named Darren. Darren works for REI, his title is something like Outdoor Program Manager. He plans hikes for a living. He has a great job. He told me that he needed to go up Highway 50 and scout a trail for a potential hike with a group sometime next spring. He told me the trail was only 7 or 8 miles and that we'd take it nice and easy. I figured I would be going crazy with my taper by then and a nice walk would do me good.

Darren and I headed out at 5 AM the Tuesday before RDL. We drove almost two hours and eventually found a trail head somewhere near a ski resort up Highway 50. We were up around 8500 feet. It was cold! He was dressed like an REI hiker, and I was dressed like a trail runner, I was freezing! I had brought one 24 oz handheld full of Propel (no real calories to speak of) and a couple of Cliff Shot Blocks and a package of jelly beans. The plan was a nice easy walk, and have me back home by 1 PM so I could get back to work.

We immediately started heading straight up a hill and did so for almost two miles. I don't know if it was the altitude but I was breathing hard. It was also quite a climb and all I could think of is that I was ruining my legs I had worked so hard to a) train and then b) taper. We eventually met up with the Pacific Crest Trail, a trail that runs from Canada to Mexico. It was beautiful and we were well above 9000 feet.

Darren will forever be linked to me for something that happened on the trail. I've been asked on numerous occasions if trail runners go to the bathroom on the trail? Well, of course we do! At least that's what I've heard. Sure, I've gone number one plenty of times on the trail but the other? Well, let's just say the call of the wild has never taken over in my year of trail running. I don't know if it was the hills, the altitude, whatever it was, this rookie was ready for a new experience on the trail and I let Darren know that something special was indeed about to happen. He asked me if I knew the rules of "dumping in the woods?" I said that I was pretty good at it at home so I figured I'd be able to manage.

The next thing I knew we were off the trail and he was showing me how deep to dig a hole, what to do with the displaced dirt, etc. Well, let's just say all went better than anticipated, memory created…kudos to Darren!

We stopped at one point and Darren was showing me how his hand-held GPS worked. He punched back in our start point and it said we still had 4 miles to go to get back to the car. We were already at 6.7 miles. I thought we only had a little over a mile to go. All of a sudden our time goal was in jeopardy and our easy distance goal was shot. Darren asked if I wanted to run, and I said sure! We ran a very, very easy pace the final 4 miles, somewhere between 10 and 11 min miles and made it back quickly. But the potential damage was done. I had drained my water bottle and eaten all my food. We ended up putting in just under 11 miles with 4 of them running. I was a tad bit worried I would pay for this, especially based on the fact that according to my taper plan I was supposed to jog 3 miles easy that morning.

When I got home I emailed Jeffery and told him I was going to pass on my last easy run Wednesday morning. I told him I had gone up and easy-walked a trail with my REI buddy and that I'd just sleep in the rest of the week. Deep inside I was starting to panic that I'd done some damage rather foolishly with just a few days prior to the race. I made a vow to take this excuse to my grave, however, if I did indeed blow up at the race because I could just hear folks saying, "you did an 11 mile run at altitude 3 days prior to your first hundred with limited food and water!? How dumb can you get?"

The Start Part 2

I had already joked with Monica Moore that I was going to simply follow her and draft off of her at the start. I've always felt that Monica was a far stronger runner than me based on a few training runs I've been on with her as part of a larger group of runners I've trained with. At my last 50k, Sequoia, I went out ahead of Monica, Jeffery, and Terry, a few others that I knew and I never saw them the rest of the day. I have to admit I thought I had beaten them all by a good margin. Immediately after I crossed the finish line I glanced back to see if anybody was close and I saw Monica looking like she had just started! She came in a couple of minutes after me. The only problem was that race had a 30k loop and a 20k loop. When we compared times later, I had her by 25 minutes after the 30k loop. That means that she made up 2 mins/mile on me on the 20k loop and I thought I was running it pretty well! So I did the math, dropped a zero, carried the two, and I figured Monica would beat me by a couple of hours at Rio.

I also knew that Monica had been trained by Julie Fingar, a well known ultra runner and great coach in our area. Julie trained Jeffery for his Western States bid as well so I saw all the effort Julie puts into training her runners. From weekly mileage to developing goals and running mantras, you name it, she covered it. I knew that Julie would have a solid race plan for Monica, so I can't lie, I thought if I stayed with Monica as long as possible I was essentially getting the benefit of Julie's coaching!

Monica told me that she was going to run with Deb Paquin and that they were going to go out SLOW. She told me I was welcome to tag along but she didn't think I'd be able to stand it.

Starting with Monica and Deb was easy thanks to the fact that I didn't bring a headlamp for the start. I had read that although it was dark, enough people brought lights that those who didn't could run off the lights of others. It briefly dawned on me that if everybody thought like I did we were all out of luck, but thankfully many came prepared with lights. Deb took the middle, Monica on one side and me on the other. Norm yelled "GO!" right at 6 AM and we were off!

Everything I had read about the start was true. All the worry, fear anxiety of the last couple of weeks, the pent up excitement of the taper, everything was gone once we started running. It was dark, but we started on rolling ups and downs on a fairly wide dirt road. I've started and stopped this race report so many times I may have covered this already, but my plan was to break the race down into segments. The first being from the start to the Overlook in Auburn, some 23 miles into the run. I figured I could coast the first 23 miles. How funny was that to put the race into that kind of perspective? Coast almost a full marathon, but you had to, that left 77 miles to go!

I remember my Garmin 305 GPS watch beeping at me as we hit the first mile. I glanced down at my watch and it was somewhere in the 11 minute range. Success! I couldn't tell you the last time I ran an 11 minute mile that wasn't a hill. I truly felt like I could run at that pace all day. I can't lie, I got semi-freaked out shortly after thinking only 99 more miles to go! I yelled it out loud and nobody really found it funny.

Start to Twin Rocks

I really enjoyed the first part of the course. I continued to run with or by Monica and Deb up to the first aid station, Twin Rocks, around the 4 mile mark. It was starting to get light. I glanced down at the watch and we were pushing 50 mins. We had actually SLOWED the pace a bit, and that was perfect. I knew I should theoretically eat something at every aid station but at 4 miles I just couldn't quite pull the trigger. I did pop a Salt Stick capsule. I had eaten my first of many GU gels about 15 minutes earlier. As much as I didn't want to pay attention to the small details, I was determined to GU every 45 minutes and salt every hour until the heat of the day when I would probably need to salt every 30 mins.

Rattlesnake and/or Horseshoe Bar

Here's where I'm usually amazed at the really detailed race reports. I can go for days on feelings and thoughts before, during and after, but I really do enjoy the folks who can break things down mile-by-mile, aid station-by-aid station. Both on the way out and back I really couldn't put my finger on whether I was at Rattlesnake Bar or Horseshoe Bar aid stations. I know that Deb got out of Twin Rocks a little bit ahead of Monica and me. On the way to Rattlesnake I passed a couple of folks I've gotten to know through ultra running including Dr. Tom Zinkle, Kaiser Psychologist. I believe this was Dr. Zinkle's 10^th hundred mile start. He's in his 60's, a really nice guy. We spent some time together at the training run two weeks prior and he gave me some good advice. What I loved, and I don't know if he would remember even saying this, was as I passed him he just said, "keep it up, Tony, good pace." He knew I was worried about going out to fast.

Monica and I talked quite a bit during this stretch. We talked about running, about our kids, the plans on seeing spouses during the day. We shared some clichés about running. I told her I had heard the one that goes something like, "finishing a hundred hurts for a few days. Dropping from a hundred hurts for years." That one resonated with me and I figured I'd pull from it later in the race. I can honestly say I didn't think about it again!

Remember the part where I said I was well hydrated prior to the race? Well, over the first 10 miles I was doing my best to become regularly hydrated…at roughly the clip of once every other mile, or 5 times in the first 10 miles. I figured if I kept up that pace I'd finish with 50 times over 100 miles. I'm not sure what the world record is but I would guess that would be close. Hey, whatever motivates somebody!

I saw Jeffery at one of these aid stations and he, too, commented on my time. He said I was right on pace. He had an Ensure for me, counted my gel packets and got on me a bit telling me I was one behind. He swapped out my bottle of sports drink and sent me off eating shot blocks and promising I'd keep gelling.

Lon Freeman…the Master

Ah, my sports drink. This brings on a story. A few weeks earlier I was really struggling with my hydration on my long training runs. I was routinely dropping 7 or 8 pounds on a 20-25 mile run. That didn't bode well for a hundred. I shared my concern with ultra elite Lon Freeman. Those in the ultra community know Lon well. He set a course record at the Miwok 100k last year. He was running in 2^nd place much of last year's Western States until an injury forced him to call it a day at mile 85. He's won numerous 50k's, 50 milers, he's an Ironman, you name it. He's also a darned nice guy! I hate to give this info up in fear of him getting a slew of requests for information but he has helped me tremendously over the past couple of years. Here's the ironic part. I started interfacing with Lon well before I EVER thought about running an ultra.

I have a good friend named Rob who got to know Lon a couple of years ago. They live near each other. Rob knew I was into marathons. He knew Lon was a distance runner, although I don't think either of us knew what kind of distance runner Lon was at the time. He introduced me to Lon via email. At that time I was in my pursuit of qualifying for the Boston marathon. I bounced a couple of emails off of Lon asking for bits of advice. Lon came back with GREAT advice…although at the time I wasn't a big fan of some of the advice he was suggesting…primarily to eat better. But that's why I run, so I don't have to eat better! He quickly dispelled some of my, as we call it in the therapist business "irrational thinking" and he recommended a couple of books for me to read which I did and which changed some of the ways I thought about food. Don't get me wrong, I stayed with the ice cream but I definitely started cleaning up my act a bit. I went on to qualify for Boston and Lon and I traded emails before and after. Rob would occasionally forward me some race results from the internet of Lon winning a local 50 miler and I still didn't get how good of a runner Lon was (and is).

Eventually I started getting into ultras and Lon became a WEALTH of knowledge…and it was a lot of fun to say Lon is my "good friend" because everybody knows who Lon is. So back to my hydration issues. I threw a note out to Lon about my weight loss issues on the run and we proceeded to carry on some wonderful dialogue about hydration. He broke it down into a science, how many mg of sodium the body can handle in an hour (1000), how many calories the body can process (don't have my notes handy but I believe it was between 275-350), what too much protein can do, too much sodium, etc. I was also trying to eat solid foods on my long runs with not much success. He suggested I become "Gel Man!" and get the majority of my calories via sports drink and gels. This sounded great to me and while many people told me it wouldn't work, I think that was one of my saving graces on this entire 100 mile experience.

I have a terrible tummy to start with, but I was trying to force sandwiches and pizza and protein drinks and everything else into me whilst completing my training runs and it just wasn't working. I realize everybody is different, however. A side-bar column in Runners World last month showed three hundred milers and what they ate. One person ate pizza, turkey sandwiches, you name it, they ate it. Another runner was in the middle, gels but also potatoes and bananas and chips. The final runner downed 65 gels in a 100 and some sports drink. All three were elite runners. That, coupled with Lon's suggestions gave me confidence and I started running with gels and shot blocks and a dense sports drink mix…and I started feeling great on my long runs and I wasn't dropping as much weight!

For those wondering, my "mix" was 5 scoops of Gu2O (normally you would use about 2) and one scoop of Endurox (high calorie plus a bit of protein). Thankfully, despite how sweet this tasted, I actually liked it (I went with orange both for the Gu2O and the Endurox) so prior to the race I mixed up about 15 baggies that had this mix in it. I bought a couple of extra 24 oz. Ultimate Direction bottles (with the insulated holders!) and every time I saw Jeffery he handed me a new bottle. That dense of a mix takes a bit to get shaken up and it was great to have Jeffery hand me a bottle with ice, fully mixed. Each baggie, by the way, had something like 780 mg of sodium and 375 calories.

I'm getting ahead of myself but coming into the Cool aid station at mile 30 a guy asked me if I was Tony Overbay? Little did he realize that my wife and I have a joke about this. I write a humor column in the Lincoln Newsmessenger. I have been writing the column for almost 10 years now and it has my picture in the column. So from time to time I get recognized. It's flattering, I can't lie, but it really hasn't gotten me the free meals at restaurants I thought it would! Every now and again somebody will just see me and say, "Do I know you from somewhere?" I used to assume that it was always from the paper, so I used to pull the move where I'd say, "You probably recognize me from my articles in the paper!" and say it like a cheese ball. Well, a couple of times I did that and people would say, "no, no, I don't read the paper, are you the clown who made me stop my car short at a crosswalk while you were running thinking that you owned the road?" Needless to say now when somebody says the line "where do I know you?" I just say, "You have me mistaken for one of the other million bald guys in the world now."

Well, this guy at Cool was Curt Harvel, a friend of Lon's. Lon had told Curt to keep an eye out for me and the only description he gave Curt was that I was bald. When Curt saw me I had my hat off cooling off with a towel. He told me who he was and he called Lon and told him I was feeling great (which I really was!). Funny part of this story # 2 is that when I reached the Overlook on the way back to Auburn (44 miles) Curt was there and he had Lon on the phone. He handed me the phone and I think I said something rather lame like, "I'm doing it, Lon, I'm doing it!" And Lon said, "Well what are you doing on the phone, get running!"

I can't end this "Tribute to Lon Freeman" section without giving him a huge thanks for his support, encouragement and for helping me figure out my eating and hydration plans which worked great. He also put together a KILLER spreadsheet for me with aid station split times for me and my crew which was invaluable, especially for my family. It helped them have an idea of where and when to meet me throughout the day (and night).

Rattlesnake Bar to the Power Plant and on to Maidu

Somewhere a little before Horseshoe Bar Monica and I separated. I wouldn't see her again until the next morning on my way back to the finish from the turnaround at Mt. Lion Knoll (mile 83) and at that point we both knew we would finish. I really want to thank Monica and Deb for setting the pace early. Deb would go on to have some serious heat rash problems with her feet (she sent me the pictures of her legs and feet one morning pre-breakfast and let's just say it delayed the pounding of the Pop Tart for a bit). I also passed Scott from Yosemite during this stretch. Scott stood in front of me at the weigh-in line on Friday and did a fantastic job keeping me occupied while I was so excitedly nervous about what was going on around me. He was also very confident in his race strategy, nice and easy, drinking V8 and Progresso soup along the way. We talked for a mile or so on the trail before I pulled ahead. I saw Scott when I was at mile 90, he was at mile 77, he still looked strong. I was happy to see he finished the race under the 30 hour cutoff.

I also hit a scale at some point along here and I was only down 1 lb, from 168 at weigh in down to 167. I felt a huge wave of relief figuring I had nailed my hydration.

This next section was wonderful to run, but it was definitely in my head since the pre-race meeting. From Rattlesnake to the Power Plant was only 2.2 miles. From the Power Plant to Maidu was a little over 7 miles. The problem is that a) it was starting to get warm and b) there were a few jugs of water at the Power Plant, not a full aid station. So you would essentially be running 9.2 miles without aid. I was downing two bottles every 6 or 7 miles. I knew I could top off at the Power Plant, but still this would be the longest stretch without true aid of the run, both on the way out and back.

I ran alone to the Power Plant, although I was following a couple of runners. One was Melissa Johnson. I have met Melissa a couple of times and knew that she had done Rio last year. I never want to interrupt anybody just in case they are in a groove but when we hit the Power Plant one runner disappeared into a Porta Potty (my favorite one, called the Wee Chateau) and Melissa and I topped off our bottles together. The trail went single track for the next 7 miles so I asked her if she minded if I drafted her for a while. We went a mile or so without really saying anything and then we started talking. It made the next 3 or 4 miles fly by. We passed a runner fairly early on who looked like he was already feeling the effects of the day. We were only 15 or 16 miles in, that had the markings of a long day for that runner.

We also came upon a runner who had loud, audible music blaring from speakers he had mounted on his person somehow? We caught him and he had some Mexican Ranchero music going. Not my particular style, and he let us by. Then, however, he kept up with us for a couple of miles and we heard some Cure, a little Bob Marley and some punk rock. It was actually pretty fun for about a mile, then I noticed Melissa and I were having to yell a bit and we eventually pulled away from him.

Cardiac Hill!! (Queue ominous music)

We hit the infamous Cardiac Hill, one of two major hills for the day (the other being K2 on the way up to Cool). I can't lie, I had myself psyched for Cardiac. I had run K2 a lot in my training and Jeffery told me that Cardiac was much easier than K2. I started to power walk up Cardiac and soon got ahead of Melissa. I actually passed three other runners heading up Cardiac and I did that thing were I was going fast thanks to how good I felt, but I was freaking myself out because of how fast I was going, meaning was I killing the rest of my day for this one mile stretch just to be able to say I passed four people on Cardiac?

I hit the top before I even knew it and felt great. You then run along the canal for a mile or two and I settled in behind a couple of women, one of whom was already making comments that this wasn't her day. I pulled into the Maidu aid station (21.24 miles) just a mile and a half from the Overlook where I'd see Jeffery and my family. As I stopped at Maidu to fill the bottles (I had timed it perfectly so I drained my "mix" as I pulled up to the table) and grab some potatoes and salt (those were going down fine in additional to a lot of gels) I was met with a "Tony!" by good friend Bill Carr. Bill ran a couple of long runs with me in anticipation of Rio and I think I sensed a bit of "you're here ahead of runners like Monica, Deb and Chuck!?" He took a couple of camera phone pictures I'll post here. Notice the cool orange shades! They were handed out at the pre-race meeting. They were cheap and fit me PERFECTLY! I love them and figured I'd run with them forever. I let my 4-year-old wear them Sunday afternoon and he immediately snapped them in half. If this race report ever finds it's way to Norm, and he has left over glasses I want a handful!

Check out these sweet orange specs! Photos courtesy of Bill Carr's camera phone

The Overlook! (22.74 miles)

I actually ran the stretch from Maidu to the Overlook at a nice sub-9 minute clip. I couldn't help myself. I knew it was only 1.5 miles. I was feeling great. I was excited to see my family and there were people ahead of me. I have a terrible problem with the need to catch people ahead of me and I used it to my advantage for this stretch and I passed the two women ahead of me from the top of Cardiac as well as the yo-yo guy (runs 100 mile races whilst yo-yoing!) and Dennis Curley who I have met on a couple of occasions. Seeing the yo-yo guy reminded me of a time in my first marathon where I passed a juggling clown…at mile 22. He wasn't a happy clown at that point in the race. I must say I was a bit miffed that it took me 22 miles to catch up to a guy running a marathon in clown makeup and big shoes who was JUGGLING!

As I turned off the trail onto the road heading up hill to the Overlook I was feeling great. Again, knowing I should be walking up the hill, saving some energy I just couldn't hold back and I started running as I knew my crew and my family would be there. I crested the top of the hill and saw the familiar red matching shirts of "Crew Overbay." My kids were excited, my wife was telling me I looked good and Jeffery was in full pit-crew mode grabbing my fanny pack and checking up on me. My three daughters all pulled out crafts they had painted at their sleep over from the night before and they were showing them all to me. It was cute. They were excited, I was excited, they didn't know what to do with that excitement so they were showing me their artwork! I made sure to pay attention to what they were showing me while downing a gel and drinking some Ensure.

The Overlook was another weigh-in station and I was doing OK. I had dropped a couple more pounds, I was down to 164 but still within a healthy range.

Overlook to No Hands (26.34 miles)

I love this stretch. I've run it dozens of times in training. It's mainly downhill and while there are some exposed sections there are also plenty of sections where you're running under a canopy of trees. There's at least one creek you can get to, and I dunked my hat in the creek. It was COLD and that felt great. It was also getting pretty darned hot. In the 4 miles from the Overlook to No Hands Bridge I downed about half of both of my water bottles. At the No Hands aid station I topped them both off with water and ice (the benefit of starting with a mixture so dense when you watered it down it actually became quite normal tasting). I will say I was continuing to try and eat a little something at every aid station. I tried a couple of chips but solids just really were sounding very good.

No Hands to Cool via K2

Now things were starting to get serious. K2 is a hill that feels like it goes straight up at spots. It's well over a mile long and I believe it gains somewhere close to a couple thousand feet in elevation. It is also just plain deceptive. You reach several "false summits." You think you're through and you turn a corner and the hill is going straight up. Still though, I've done K2 many times and I kind of enjoy it. I power walked it and it felt great. I passed a few people including Linda McFadden. I met up with her again on the Olmstead Loop a few miles down the course and had a nice chat with her. She's humble. I asked her a lot of questions about ultras and she shared some information with me but I had no idea she's done races like the 135 mile run across Death Valley, aka the Badwater Ultramarathon.

K2 has several "false summits" or points at which you think you've reached the top, you turn a corner and the hill goes up as far as the eye can see. Having trained on K2 I always wondered if hitting it with close to 30 miles on my legs would just ruin me? There's also one particular stretch where even on fresh legs it gets so steep that for a few steps you wonder if you can keep moving forward. I've wondered if I would have to walk it sideways, or backwards, or just do something different to make it up the hill. Thankfully I didn't, it seemed to be business as usual, although it was continuing to get very, very hot.

At the top, again, I felt surprisingly good and I ran at a nice, easy pace into the Cool aid station. There was Jeffery a little before the aid station with quite a spread! He has the table out, bucket of ice, had my fresh bottle waiting. I did what I would do every time I saw him for the rest of the day, and what I felt was invaluable, wipe down my face and neck with a freezing cold towel while he filled my 2^nd bottle with ice water. He told me that I would need to do a weight check after running the 7 mile loop but I was admittedly pretty curious about where my weight was at this point in the race. I jumped on the scale at the aid station and a bit of panic set in. I was down to 162. I told the person monitoring the scale that I was on my way out (you didn't need to officially weigh in until you returned 7 miles later) so she didn't pay attention to the weight. I was determined to have both bottles drained before hitting the Knickerbocker Hill aid station in 5 miles, and then drain them both in the 2 miles from Knickerbocker back to Cool and the official weigh in.

I wasn't lying, check out Jeffery hooking me up with a cold towel! You can see a bit of the table he set out in the bottom left, this guy was prepared!

I'm very bald. Photos courtesy of Curt Harvell.

Jeffery "So this runner walks into a bar with a duck under one arm…"

Cool to Cool (30.28 miles to 37.33 miles) via Knickerbocker Hill (35.74 miles)

I headed out of the aid station and immediately got onto the familiar Olmstead Loop trail. I had run this loop 3 times in the 12 Hours Too Cool night race held a few weeks earlier and I had been looking forward to this section. I personally like out-and-back courses, loop courses, I like knowing where I'm going. I also recognized the trail and there's always a bit of comfort in familiarity. The only negative to this stretch was that a lot of the trail was exposed. I read later that temperatures at this time were hovering in the low-to-mid 90's and several people called it a day after (or during) the loop.

I still felt good. I gelled when I needed to and started taking 2 salt tablets per hour (the bottle recommends 2 per hour with heavy sweating…I was heavily sweating as evidenced by the weight loss). Speaking of weight loss it's always fun to share how much one can lose and gain during an ultra marathon with a non-runner. Someone who weighs themselves daily might see a few ounces difference here and there, maybe even a pound on a crazy day. I've easily dropped 7or 8 pounds on a long run and I hear similar tales from others. Don't get me wrong, this means that I'm not doing a variety of things right, but typically by the end of the day weight has stabilized and everything is back to normal.

A couple of miles into the loop I could have sworn I saw the familiar Brooks Inspire Daily running top worn by top contenders Michael Kanning (16 year old ultra phenom, ran Rio last year at 15! This year he was hoping to set a junior national record at the 100 mile distance) and Jean Pommier. I knew that if I was approaching one of them at this stage in the race something had gone horribly wrong. I was hoping that it was just somebody else who changed into the shirt later in the race. Unfortunately it was Michael. I slowed down and checked in with him and he was having some knee trouble and had gotten lost for a while earlier in the race. I felt terrible for him. I was impressed with him, however, as he was still smiling and simply said that this wasn't his day. Funny that I ran the rest of the day (and night) assuming that he'd get it together and pass me, right up until the end. I learned later that he dropped, I believe, when he returned to Cool.

Thanks to the heat I had no problem downing my two bottles within the 5 miles. When I hit Knickerbocker Hill (not a bad climb but short, very short) I knew aid was near so I downed what water and mix was remaining in my two bottles. I'm sure it was only a quarter or half a mile to the next aid station but in one of the only true mind tricks my body played on me I thought for a second that I was wrong about the aid station at Knickerbocker because it wasn't at the top of the hill. I was just starting to panic when I crested a small hill and saw the aid station. I filled up with ice water and Gatorade (didn't have a spare mix bag) and then ran along the paved road to Cool. I chatted again with Linda and a couple of other runners who I didn't know. I came back into the Cool aid station having to pee but I wasn't about to let ANY fluid escape thanks to the weigh in. I drank as much as I could and when I hit the scales I had actually put on a pound, I was 163 so I was passed through without any comment. Jeffery cleaned me up, Kurt took a couple of pictures and I was heading back to Auburn. This stretch was HUGE for me. I couldn't believe I was at nearly 38 miles and my legs felt like I had just started. I still couldn't fathom it. My stomach was with me and I knew I was heading on a nice 3 mile downhill stretch to No Hands Bridge. I would then have a mere 4 miles to go and I'd pick up my first pacer. I was in a good place.

Cool to No Hands (40.79)

Not much to report here. I had a nice downhill stretch, ran the whole thing at a decent clip and felt great. I've turned my ankles a time or two on this stretch so I was careful to pick up my feet and pay attention. It was so sunny, though, that at times coming in and out of the shade was a bit difficult but no casualties. Saw no one, passed no one, just in a good place.

At the No Hands aid station one of the very kind volunteers filled my bandana with ice and wrapped it around my neck. She filled my bottles with ice and topped them both off with water and she filled my hat with ice. I downed some banana and tried to eat a pb&j square (and actually choked it down but it sucked all the moisture out of my mouth).

No Hands to the Overlook (44.73 miles)

As I ran across No Hands Bridge I realized that even though it was hot, I had too much ice going on. The ice in my hat was freezing my bald head and I had to dump it out. The ice in the bandana was great, though, and it lasted a long time. I don't have a clue how she did it but that ice stayed in my bandana for a couple of miles and really worked perfectly. Good call by Jeffery on the bandana. He recommended it on Friday during lunch and I ran over to Longs and found one. It was great throughout the day for wiping down my sweaty face and as an ice holder.

I ran this stretch nice and easy and I saw no one. It was actually nice. I knew Jeffery and my family would be at the Overlook. And I would pick up my first pacer, Derek. It was at this point that I hit a pretty significant stretch of the runner's high. I had felt it earlier as well, actually on several occasions, when it just felt good to be running, to be a part of the race. But for a couple of miles on this stretch, despite the heat, despite the majority of the section being uphill I just felt good. I didn't think it would be possible to feel so good at this point in the race. I started rehearsing what I'd tell my crew. My wife told me later that she kept waiting for me to come into an aid station and have the wheels come off. That my stomach was upset, or my legs were cramped. I couldn't wait to get to the Overlook and tell everybody that I felt great!

At the Overlook still feeling great!

The Overlook to Maidu (46.23 miles)

As I came into the Overlook I was on cloud 9…no, make it 10! I heard a couple of people yelling my name before I made it into the aid station. I had to check in first, and then all of the crews were set up a few hundred feet after the aid station. I jumped on the scale and for a brief moment the wind went out of my sails. 160 lbs. Man, down 8 lbs now from the start. Although not written in the pre-race guide, rumor had it that if you were up or down 10 lbs at any point in the race they'd sit you down for a bit until you gained some weight. I don't remember who was manning the scale, male or female, but they asked me how I was feeling and I told them I really did feel great, that I started a few pounds over, etc. They let me go.

When I made it to Jeffery's table there were a lot of friends around and that felt great. Derek said he had just made it there, apparently I was a little bit ahead of schedule. I would learn later that I was well ahead of 24 hour pace at this point but oddly enough I didn't care about my pace, the time, etc. I didn't even ask what time it was (and I wouldn't until I was back at Cavitt later that night where I would learn that it was 9:30 PM, still ahead of 24 hour pace!).

I will admit I was pretty turned off by solid food by this point. Derek started with me immediately, "Sandra has In-n-Out!"

"No, I'm good."

Jeffery jumped in, "How about a sandwich?"

"No, nothing sounds good. Really, I'm…"

"How about a chocolate milkshake?" Jeffery asked?

"Yeah, I'm in!"

First craving was the Mtn. Dew. Now this wasn't so much of a craving, but it sounded like the greatest thing ever made (which is what it sounds like pretty much all the time). Somebody handed me an In-n-Out chocolate shake and it tasted SO GOOD! I downed about a quarter of it, slammed a gel and downed some Mtn. Dew. I also changed my shirt; my first one was pretty salty.

Jeanne, Jeffery's wife, let me know that I arrived a bit too early for my family to make it. They'd try to meet me at Maidu. This was also where I had my brief phone call with Lon (mentioned earlier). Derek asked me if I was ready to go and we were off!

From the Overlook to Maidu was only a mile and a half. It was the mile and a half along the canal that I felt so good on earlier, and I was happy to show Derek that I still felt really, really good. I felt an odd sort of pride with being able to run. There was a part of me that worried that by the time I picked up Derek I'd be shot, either emotionally or physically and I was neither.

I will say this many times over the next few paragraphs, Derek is a phenomenal pacer. He spent most of the section going over the first 45 miles of the day, paying attention to how I've been eating, drinking, running, my mental state. We were at Maidu aid station in no time and didn't spend long there, just long enough for this picture with my family.

This probably cost me the win but I felt a quick stop for a family photo was in order.

I had also missed their artwork on the van, this was a wonderful surprise! My friend Jim told me later that his wife saw our van at Wal-Mart at some point in the day. I love the fact that the family unit was cruising around in the van, decorated up for the race, all wearing their crew shirts. They ate dinner at Fresh Choice, the manager came over and asked them about the shirts. They told him what I was doing and he graciously gave them a free dinner coupon for me to use later. Nice! For what it's worth, Fresh Choice was where Wendy and I had our "Last Meal." 10 years ago Wendy found out that thanks to a spike in her blood pressure, she would be induced with our first child the next morning. No wild rides to the hospital for our first kid, we were able to clean the house the night before, go to Fresh Choice for dinner, wake up, shower and go to the hospital and have a baby. Nice to tie Fresh Choice to another good memory (hey, this much of a plug deserves more than one free dinner!).

One more shot of the van and the kids, that was just too cool!

Derek and I heading out of Maidu

Maidu to the Rattlesnake Bar (via the Power Plant) (Mile 55.53)

With Derek in tow we headed along the canal and down Cardiac, much easier than running up. He started right in with me on when to take salt, when to eat gels. I had bought 30 something chocolate and strawberry / banana gels. I was getting VERY tired of these flavors so I traded Derek for a few of his. It was nice to have a little Tri-Berry and Orange to mix things up. I was able to go back to the strawberry banana later, but chocolate is dead to me! Chocolate the gel, not chocolate in general.

Derek and I settled into a great rhythm. He led, and he had a good feel for how I was running. He knew when to run and when an up hill was steep enough to power walk. I didn't have to think about it. I also never worried about a trail marker. Honestly, this was just a good stretch. With that said, I'll turn the time over to Derek who shot me some "talking points" the day after the race, let's go through them, shall we? (Note - The formatting of this section is terrible! I'm so fed up with trying to post this report that it's going up regardless!)

Milkshake at the Overlook – Covered! In hindsight that's the only food consumed during the race that I didn't want to avoid for the next several days.

Overlook Shoe / Sock / Shirt change – I did change the shirt and socks. I went with one pair of shoes for the entire run. This was significant to me and something I debated quite a bit heading into the run. I own a cheap pair of Vasque's that I bought on clearance from the Auburn Running Company to start my trail running career. I bought a pair of Asics Gel Trail Attack 3's when I thought I'd be pacing Jeffery at Western States. I was going to cross the river with him at mile 78 and wanted a dry pair of shoes so these were my backup pair. The problem is that I've never had a blister in any long run until wearing these at the Sequoia 50k in July. They're comfy shoes but first blister…now that was in my head.

After becoming part of the Brooks Inspire Daily team I bought a pair of Brooks Cascadia III's pretty much because that's what everybody else was wearing on the trails as best as I could tell. I loved them and didn't think about buying a backup pair early enough to be able to change into the exact same shoe half way through. So I brought all my shoes and stayed with the Cascadia's the entire 102 miles. Great shoe! I also had fun watching Jeffery pull off my Injinji Toe Socks and put me into a fresh pair. Now that's a crew chief! My feet were DIRTY and he didn't even hesitate. Good man!
Hang Nail Injury! – I would have forgotten about this one. At one point Derek asked me if I was having any minor aches or pains, any signs of injury. All I could think of was that I had a little hang nail on my left hand that I hadn't noticed earlier. I think it was from the way I kept adjusting my water bottle in that hand. I told him that it would be ironic if my only pain from the day was a fingernail.
Drunk 4 Wheelers – I think we heard them when we were getting close to Twin Rocks, around 63 miles. They were partying hard down at the lake. We were joking about them seeing a couple of lights bobbing up in the woods and taking shots at us.
The record – This is a section that the non ultra folk can skip over, PLEASE. One of the first, well, maybe 3^rd or 4^th questions I'm often asked is "where do you go to the bathroom?" Well, wherever you can! People lose all inhibitions on the trails. Long ago my running friend Tom Wagner and I were all ready to start the Salt Lake marathon. We had to pee and the porta potty lines were LONG! We ran a quarter mile away from the start, held near the University of Utah campus, and turned a corner thinking we were discreet to a small group of women doing exactly what we were planning on doing. They screamed, Tom screamed and we ran out of there embarrassed. I was shocked! Couldn't believe it. Pee'ing in the open, how terrible! Fast forward to one of the Western States training runs I did with Jeffery. There were 4 busses full of men and women, all hydrating prior to running 30 something miles that morning. The bus ride was an hour. When the busses let off in the middle of nowhere people were barely off the bus taking care of all matters of business, both men and women. It made the SLC marathon experience rated G.
All that to say that by the time 50 – 60 miles rolls around if your body needs to make noise it just does. Pacer, runner, nobody cares. I don't know if it was the 20 gels or so up to that point, the boiled potatoes, anyway, Derek, and later Theo, were both kind to point out that it simply meant my body was functioning well! The part about the record, well, some things will just stay on the trail, and Derek, no, the record was not broken.
Directly from Derek "Lots of questions / updates, nice to not have to drag info out of you about how you were feeling." – This is much appreciated feedback, Derek! During the Rucky Chucky 50k I hit a patch where I didn't feel well. Jeffery was trying to be supportive and I shut down emotionally. I was a real pain in the rear and I felt terrible about it afterward. I eventually rallied and we finished together strong and happy, but for several miles I wasn't very fun to be around. I worried about this with Derek and Theo…and Jeffery and my family for that matter, but I am happy to report I just felt so good I was in good spirits all along. I answered all of Derek's questions and I'd ask him questions about why I'd get certain up and down feelings in my tummy, etc.
Double GU – Since I wasn't eating much in the way of solids, Derek started having me pound 2 GU's at the same time. I knew he was right and I did it despite how much I didn't want to!
Resisted Solid Food Intake – I think people are getting the point. He did point out I did "pretty good" on a few potatoes and I tried a sandwich or two but not much going on there.
Beef Jerky Good! Sharkies Bad! – Derek had some beef jerky on him. When I had a few tummy troubles during this stretch he suggested I try some. It didn't sound good, but it didn't sound bad. I tried some and it went down well and a few minutes afterward I noticed I was feeling pretty good. I think I might pocket some of this on another long run and see how it goes down again. I was good about eating my Shot Blocks and Jelly Beans, but I had bought a couple of bags of Sharkies, healthy fruit snacks with electrolytes in them. They're made out of brown rice and some other good stuff…good for you stuff. Those weren't working. I had a few bags left and gave them to Jeffery after the race.
Saltstick vs. S-Caps (215 mg and 341 mg of sodium respectively) – I had been using S-Caps exclusively for my year of ultra running. I then read one little post somewhere that said that Saltsticks had more stuff in them so I bought a bottle and started using them. Derek is an S-Cap man so he was a bit surprised when I wasn't able to give him the details on what the Saltsticks had in them. I told him I was sure they were the same amount of sodium, looks like I was wrong!
Passing Folks (including some 53 mile stragglers from the Sierra Nevada Double Marathon) – We didn't see many people along the way. We did pass Nancy Warren and a friend of hers at one stretch, I can't really remember where, Derek reminded me that it was prior to the Power Plant aid station. Nancy has been a HUGE support in my new running career. She's the race director for the 12 Hours to Cool race, she's run numerous 100's and has done Badwater multiple times. She's an amazing runner. It was great to see her on the course, but along with Michael Kanning, she's one who I thought I'd end up seeing again later. I was able to stay ahead of her but she did finish with a good time (at this point the race website is down and I'm unable to back up anybody else's times!).
Mainly on the way to Twin Rocks and then again from Twin Rocks to Cavitt we came upon a couple of groups of people. Seeing people was wonderful as I have a tendency to want to pass people ahead of me. It really gave me a burst of energy and we passed most going rather fast. Derek was quick to point out that these were folks finishing the 53 mile run (evidenced by their race numbers). Still, this felt good to finish my 67 miles ahead of their 53.
Great Stomach Recovery – This was a HUGE lesson for me. On a hundred you're going to have some problems. I had read that time and time and time again. As I mentioned earlier in this report, the normal emotion is that when something bad happens that part of your body is DONE, finished, game over. Example, in marathons my legs would cramp and they'd remain cramped until I was done with the race. I had experienced some tummy troubles in previous ultras, but these ultras were only 32 milers, so there was typically a little tummy trouble left overs even at the end. I didn't want tummy problems the entire 100 miles, or even the final 60 or 70 miles. A few miles into running with Derek I started to establish a pattern. I'd eat, my tummy would rebel and then I would feel better. No puking, but definitely not a lot of fun while it was rebelling. Sitting here two weeks after (OK, now three!) I can barely remember the tummy problems, nor would that be a deterrent for a future hundred. My body worked it out and that was a great lesson.
Headlamp Issues – Well, issues aren't really true. First, I brought a hat that had some weird plastic piece on the back, so running with it at night didn't work, my headlamp coupled with the plastic piece caused my head to hurt. That was disappointing. I ended up clipping my hat around my waistband and running with the light on my bald head. This felt odd but it was better than I thought. Derek asked me if I had brought a headband. Derek and I both rock the Halo Headband at times. The Halo is great for directing sweat away from the eyes. Plus it would have given me a bit of cushioning for the headlamp. I didn't bring it! So I just left it on my bald head the rest of the way. Luckily it never gave me any trouble.
Again, from Derek "Saying you hadn't seen a flag in miles 10 seconds after we passed 2 of them." – OK, he just made that up. I was sharp as a tack throughout our entire 20+ miles together!
Only one trip – Derek pointed out that I really only had one trip/stumble in a very technical section of the course. This was true! I really thought I'd take at least one good fall during the run or stub a toe or twist an ankle or two but none of that happened and I was shocked! Granted, I probably wasn't tearing it up during any of the more difficult sections but it was nice not to experience my first fall during the race (that's right, knock on wood, a year of ultra trail running and I haven't taken a tumble yet!).
Running everything I asked you to – That's from Derek, too. I tell you, a good pacer is key. Derek knew what I could really run and when he sped up I sped up. It worked and it made things so much easier!
Asking if I should slow down on the levy before Cavitt (67 miles) – Here Derek is making up for the flag comment above. He said I was "feeling great and really moving" which is exactly how I felt. I really couldn't believe how good I felt coming into Cavitt.
"Laughing at, or at least enjoying, the roller coaster up and downs you were feeling" – That's just because it was so, so much better of an experience than I ever thought I'd have. I remember us figuring out when I hit 51 miles (longest run ever), when I hit 100k (first 100k run!) and I just felt good.

Back to the report. I think by all of the above info one can get the feel that things were going well. When we hit the Power Plant I was very much hoping that there was still water left at the unattended aid station, and there was. But, before that, we crossed a river, and Derek recommended we get wet. I seriously thought he meant wade into it and I was just about to tell him I didn't want to get my shoes wet and he recommended dipping my bandana in the water, washing up a bit, it felt GREAT!

We came into Rattlesnake Bar where I believe, if I am correct, that we just filled up on a bit of food and kept going. Jeffery would be at the next aid station. Actually in reading over this report Derek informed me that I am indeed a bit aid station challenged. We met Jeffery and went through the experiences that I share below at Rattlesnake Bar, not Horseshoe Bar. But again, at this point, I can't wrap my brain around switching things up in the report…the cow is out of the barn, the water is over the falls, and a bunch of additional cliché's so forgive me for getting a couple of the aid stations mixed up.

Rattlesnake Bar to Horseshoe Bar (Mile 57.46)

This stretch was a little less than 2 miles. Again, here's where my lack of aid station prowess and unfamiliarity with the trail are to my detriment.

Funny memory from when we hit Horseshoe Bar, however. Derek let me take the lead and we came in to the cheers of my crew, some other folks crew (Sandra), Jeffery's wife and son were there, my family was all there so it felt great. Before I was able to reach Jeffery's table I had to weigh in. James Barstead was there. He's run Western States and he and I have done a couple of training runs together and have seen each other at a few races. I like James, and he's a positive guy to see. He was right there with me at the weigh in. I hopped on the scale and we all looked down, 159 – 160, darn it! Still low. The person in charge looks at my start weight and James notices that I'm about to get a "talking to" regarding my weight. He sees I look good and says, "Tony, you're looking great, how are you feeling?" I say enthusiastically, "Man, I feel great, James!" He looks at the person by the scale and says, "He feels great!" I nod my head and the person kind of gives a concerned look and says, "Watch your weight, and try to eat more from this point on."

"I promise!" I say and I give a nod to James. Safe for another weigh in.

It was great to see my family again. My wife looked impressed, and that felt pretty darned good. Jeffery checked in with me, Derek, I'm pounding more Ensure, more Mtn. Dew. Derek removes Mtn. Dew from my hand, "That's just sugar, try to eat something!" Jeffery makes me take a Roctane Gel and promise to eat some Jelly Beans. I kiss the family and Derek and I are off!

Jeffery and Derek taking care of me, daughter McKinley watching on

Ready to head out! I did remember to remove the towel.

Derek and I back on the trail.

Horseshoe Bar to Cavitt via Twin Rocks (Cavitt 67.42)

OK, based on the fact that I'm on page 22 of this race report AND the fact that things did get a bit fuzzy after dark, we'll start making up some time. Granted, this is my journal of my first hundred mile run, so I don't want to cheat myself, but I have a feeling I'll never get through this report myself if I ever come back to it to read it.

This section was very technical, a lot of rocks. Much of what I reported in Derek's talking points up above took place during this section, i.e. the drunken folk, the trip, the headlamp issues, but the bottom line is I was running! I do remember that I started pulling a little bit of "are we there yet" with regard to the Twin Rocks aid station. Derek rightly said that this would be the longest 5.9 miles I had run in a long time, and it was.

I believe Twin Rocks was the first place that I started to eat soup (correction, Derek reminded me it was at Horseshoe Bar, thanks Derek!) I've read often about how wonderful soup is during ultra marathons. I had tried some soup in shorter 50k races and to be honest I wasn't a fan. I became converted at Rio. Soup hit the spot. Theo would keep me eating soup throughout the night and it never really was a bad thing. I think I could go to soup earlier in the future.

Derek reminded me that we both tried to take in a little PB&J at Twin Rocks without much success. I was really trying at that point to be a good runner for my pacer but bread just sucked all the moisture out of my mouth. It brings back two memories. First, I tried my very first pretzels at the American River 50 miler last April. It was a similar experience to when you eat the saltine crackers and then try to whistle. Moisture in mouth…gone! I also remember my first experience eating a gel, probably a good place to share it figuring I ate 30 plus gels during this race. I was running the California International Marathon. I had never had a gel. I hit mile 20 and somebody was handing them out. I grabbed one without water…remember, this is the FIRST of these pure carbohydrate, syrupy, thick, odd tasting, paste-like substances I had ever had. I opened the top and sucked the whole thing in my mouth. I tried to swallow and WHAMMO it was back out on the street! Thankfully the PB&J experience wasn't that bad, but it definitely put a bit of a nail in the eating solids coffin.

When we hit the levee on the way to Cavitt I was practically floating. I knew there would be a lot of folks there. I knew my family would be there and I knew Jeffery and Theo would be there. You can hear the commotion at Cavitt as you turn down a 1/4 mile hill to get to the school. I started getting really, really excited.

On the left Derek and Jeffery dialing me in at Cavitt while my oldest Alexa helps out. Center, well, more of the same. To the right, pacers past and future, Derek and Theo ready to pass off the baton.

The brain trust, everybody together plotting out the next 33 miles! Derek, left, Jeffery, center and Theo, right (and me far right!)

Again, breaking down my race, I had made it through several "chunks" and felt fine. As I made it into the aid station I could tell I was smiling ear-to-ear. A couple of our neighbors were there, Staci and Melinda, and that was a great surprise. They make me feel great constantly about my running. They're the perfect non-running running friends (although Melinda did recently run her first 5 and 10k races!). They ask a lot of questions about running and act impressed. They were there for my 50 miler and Staci tells me that she works my running 100 miles into plenty of conversations. You gotta love that support!

My kids were there, my wife was smiling. I just wanted to let them all know I was feeling great! I jumped on the scale, I was up a couple of pounds from the previous weigh in, which was a good thing. I ate some soup. I scrubbed up with the towels. I looked around and Theo and Derek were talking, Jeffery was in the zone filling up my pack. My kids were so cute. My oldest daughters Alexa and McKinley were asking me questions, they wanted to be involved and I did my best to respond to everything going on around me.

This was the point where I asked what time it was. Melinda told me it was 9:30 PM. For some reason I thought I could be to Cavitt by 7:45 so for a brief second I was disappointed, but Theo quickly reassured me and said, "The time doesn't matter, you're making great time."

I kissed the family good night, thanked Staci and Melinda and tried to express my appreciation to Derek. I'll never forget crossing the 51 mile mark, the 100k mark, etc., with Derek, that's a good guy!

Now the race was simply a 33 mile out and back. Simply…wow, as excited as I was, as good as I felt, I had a 50k and some change to run! I did a quick body check. Legs, good, stomach, so-so, mind, good, tired, NO! Let's go!

Cavitt to Folsom Dam Park (70.52 miles)

I knew that Theo would be a much different pacer than Derek and he was. I met Theo through Jeffery last year. Theo is a sub-24 hour Western States finisher and a great guy. He knows a lot about running and I knew that he'd keep me on task throughout the night.

I told him I needed to walk up the hill from Cavitt, that my routine for the last 10 or 15 miles was to take it easy for a few minutes after eating while my stomach complained and then I'd be OK to run.

We made it to the levee and then took the detour made necessary thanks to what Norm had said was simply "Homeland Security training exercises" on the levee. The detour was a series of loose-dirt switchbacks slightly downhill, not a bad way to start the last section of the race. Once we hit flat land, however, Theo came alive.

"You run ahead of me, let's go! If you need to walk up a hill I'll take the lead and you must keep up with my pace." I felt like saying, "Theo, I've run like 68 miles, right?" But I had also been doing some math in my head and I knew that I was sub-24 hour pace and I definitely knew that Theo knew that. Why not give it a shot!?

We kept up what I felt was a good pace for a bit and then Theo did something pretty funny that thankfully didn't take the wind out of my sails. He started walking very briskly alongside of me while I was running. I could have sworn that I was moving some dirt and he was, well, power walking. I joked with him, "Hey, shuffle the feet at least, will you?"

We quickly made it to the Folsom Dam Park aid station. Theo went ahead and had the volunteers get me some soup. It really was hitting the spot.

Here's foggy memory number one. At some point we decided I would switch to one bottle because now that it was night I wasn't sweating nearly as much and I would be OK without both bottles. I also lost my fanny pack at some point (gave it to Jeffery, not really lost it), but I believe that wasn't until 80 miles. I simply put the gels and salt in the pouch of my water bottle holder.

Folsom Dam Park to Negro Bar (73.27)

This area was starting to become a blur to me. My legs still felt great, but it was now somewhere around 10:30 – 11 PM. I had a couple of caffeine pills in my bag and I asked Theo if I should take one. He was from the school of thought that if I was feeling OK why introduce something else into my system at this point. He also advised against taking Advil for the same reason. There is a lot of discussion on taking ibuprofen on a long run and I had only taken it after twisting an ankle months ago with no ill effects. But still, I think Theo's advice was sound and I didn't take any ibuprofen until well into Sunday afternoon after waking from a nap unable to move very well.

Negro Bar to Hazel Bluff (Mile 77.77)– "Theo, I've seen this park before!"

There is a section of the trail called "The Bluffs." In hindsight I now remember this part from the AR50 course as well as the training run a couple of weeks earlier. I remember going up a hill, running along a fence line and down a hill. That memory would have sure been great during the race! We were heading toward The Bluffs and I was still feeling good. My stomach would backfire a bit, I'd do some sort of cough every now and again that could easily be mistaken for the start of a heave but I really didn't think I was going to purge. Theo was good to check in with me whenever he heard one of these coughs and we'd take it easy for a minute. If I'm being honest some of these coughs had a flare of the dramatic, but that was only when I thought Theo was pushing the pace.

We were in a groove, and as we headed up hill to the Bluffs I had talked Theo into taking on a similar approach as I had with Derek, that he take the lead and I would follow him. I told him to run what he thought I could, and power walk the rest. Theo came up with the phrase "Walk with a purpose!" I liked that and repeated it whenever we were at a point where we'd walk.

We were talking, running, talking more, up the hill to the Bluffs. Theo was checking in with me and we're following chalk arrows on the ground. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. We went to the right at one point and headed toward a little play area. I made a mental note that the play area seemed like something my kids would enjoy. We then took a right, headed down a hill and hit a spot where I had to jump down a couple of feet from one part of the trail to the next. I stopped short on that section and Theo, seeing me, stopped and asked me if I needed help. I jumped down and I have to admit, at 74, 75'ish miles into the run that was a jolt! I couldn't believe we had to do that at this point in the race.

We hit a point where we could go right or left and didn't really see a good trail marker. We went right and it appeared to be correct as we eventually found another chalk mark. We turned left, headed up a hill and followed the chalk mark around again. We were moving pretty well, made a turn and, and I'll never forget this, there was the park again. I stopped, "Theo, I've seen this park before!"

"No, impossible!" he said. We started looking around trying to see how we had missed a trail marking somehow. We found the remnants of a couple of markers in a tree. We quickly guessed that this must be the part of the course inhabited by the guy who likes to remove trail markers. We started down a trail that we thought looked like a new way to go and there was the big drop off again. We turned back. We found another way down and again found the place where you went right or left, we went left and once again, we were at the park.

I could tell that Theo felt terrible. We weren't sure what to do and all of a sudden we saw a couple of lights in the distance. Two other runners were lost as well, although they didn't know they were lost yet. I learned post-race that it was Ted Knudsen and his pacer. You can read Ted's race report here, he makes mention of getting lost and yes, Theo and I are the guys he mentions

We informed Ted and his pacer that they, too, were lost. It was a funny couple of minutes watching it register on their faces, too. I'm sure they thought, "No, YOU guys are lost, not US!" We went patiently with them as they, too, followed the trail around and down and viola, we were back at the park a 3^rd time! We tried another route and stumbled upon a burned out blue car, not the right way to go.

Finally Ted's pacer just took off downhill and started yelling when he found trail ribbons and glow sticks. We had been going in circles, had we just gone downhill, along the aforementioned fence line, we would have met up with the ribbons. Theo apologized and I can honestly say I didn't care, it made for a better story. Theo calculated that we lost about 40 minutes while we were wandering and ran at least 2-3 miles (there were plenty of moments during the 40 mins where we just walked aimlessly looking for a trail marker).

I can't lie, however, it was during this time that my legs finally said, "Hey, remember us? Well, we're pretty whupped, and you aren't helping us much by starting and stopping." I can also say that if at any point I could say I hit a down slope mentally it was here. I still new I'd finish, I didn't feel like I wanted to quit, but the wind was definitely out of my sails. We hung with Ted and co. for a bit until we found ourselves out on the bike trail. We then made our way past them, and we would repeat shuttling back and forth with Ted until somewhere in the mid-to-low 90's where they would finally leave us for good. I believe Ted finished ahead of me by about 10 minutes or so.

We hit Hazel and I was surprised to see my wife and our friend Staci there along with Jeffery. We told them about being lost and my wife was great, telling me to keep my head up. The whole race there was a great look in her eye. She had seen me prepare, heard me talk about this race for a couple of months but I got the sense that she, too, wondered what I was doing running a 100 so soon in my ultra career. Heading into the race I really wondered how far she thought I'd get. She swears that she knew I'd finish, but she did think it would take me 28 hours or so.

There was one other problem that was starting to develop, one that would dog me the rest of the evening, very badly in the last few miles I must say. Let me give you a clue…

"Jeffery, do you have any Vaseline?"

"Yeah, but you have your Glide, right?"

"I don't think Glide can really get to all the problem areas."

"Don't worry, I brought a glove," he said and you could hear Wendy and Staci laughing. Staci tried to get a picture on her cell phone and I quickly ran behind Jeffery's car. From mile 77 on I can testify that each and every aid station had Vaseline! I had been using Glide, a body lubricant, throughout the race. But this chafing, along with another problem or two, was happening where I had never thought to Glide!

Hazel to Mtn. Lion Knoll, aka "The Turnaround" with the Willow Creek Aid Station in there Somewhere (Turnaround at 84.07 miles)

At this point it's 1 or 2 in the AM. Time truly doesn't matter. One of the benefits of getting lost, again, if I'm being honest, is that Theo and I come to the conclusion that a sub-24 hour finish isn't in the cards. Between the 40 minutes of retracing our steps and the accompanying pity party for a couple of miles after finding our way, it's just not going to happen.

The good news, and I realize I sound like a broken record here, is that I felt good. Theo mentions a couple of more times that he feels terrible that we got lost and I try to assure him that a) I truly just had the goal of finishing, if somebody would have told me before the race that I would have been running sub-24 hour pace through 75 miles and feeling good before getting lost I would have thought them very, very crazy. We were going to finish. And b) not having the pressure of now trying to finish sub-24 really made the whole experience a bit more relaxed. Theo seemed OK with that and the goal simply became to have as good of a time as possible these final 20 or so miles.

A couple of thoughts that I remember thinking after reaching Hazel. Only 23 more miles. Theo said, "Less than a marathon to go!" That was supposed to be encouraging. I was telling myself that. But if I stopped and thought about that statement it's funny what a different mindset you have to get into for running 100 miles. ONLY a marathon left…but you already have 3 marathons behind you! I was picturing the distance in my head. Hey, it's only as if somebody dropped me off in Sacramento and said, "OK, run back to Lincoln!"

Theo came up with a very good rhythm at this point. He encouraged me to run for 2 or 3 minutes and then walk with a purpose for 1 minute. This was actually much, much easier than I thought. As a matter of fact our running would at times go longer than 2 or 3 minutes and for a good half an hour after hitting 80 miles we ran, and I mean ran, quite a bit of it.

This was also a great stretch of the race because we were just a few miles from the turnaround. We started seeing people on their way back. Some looked dead, others pretty good. We actually saw some people earlier, I believe while we were making our way (successfully, finally) down the Bluffs. We passed Jean Pommier. He finished 2^nd I believe. He, too, looked a bit tired, but I read on his blog that he was struggling a bit after going out too fast. We passed Jimmy Dean Freeman when we made it down to the bike path. Jimmy went on to take 3rd overall and finish under 20 hours! He looked fresh (possibly why he took 3rd!) and gave a nice, "Looking good guys!"

We saw my friend, and 4^th place finisher Mark Tanaka. I think in reading Mark's blog that he was running out of gas. I yelled, "Mark Tanaka!" But he didn't respond. We saw my new friend Ling, she finished first female. I met Ling at the pre-race meeting the previous day and she was kind enough to say she reads my blog. I did the same with Ling, "Ling, it's Tony Overbay, you're doing great!" She didn't respond either, but her pacer said, "Thanks!" Quick mental note – It looks a lot harder to run to win one of these things than to run simply to finish!

We hit the Willow Creek aid station and one of the ladies there said something that at the time really made my night. In hindsight she probably said it to everybody who came through. I came into the aid station still on this little running high. I was happy, I felt good and she simply said, "You look better than anybody who has come through!" That did it for me. By golly I'm a 100 mile runner and I'm going to finish this thing in good shape! ONLY 19 miles left! I grabbed some soup (and Vaseline) and we kept going.

Mt. Lion Knoll! The turnaround (mile 84.07)

About a mile from Mt. Lion Knoll we passed my friend Leslie coming back from the turnaround. She was pacing a runner. We learned that Leslie was a fair distance behind me earlier in the evening but passed us when we were lost. She was now about 2 miles ahead of us. I said to Theo, "Let's catch them!" Well, we never did and I haven't had the heart to see when her runner finished. They had to have us by at least 25 – 30 minutes at that point. I'd like to think I finished closely after them but admittedly I never thought about them again after that. A little validation that the mind wasn't perhaps at 100%.

As we approached Mt. Lion Knoll we came across a bridge where two love birds were setting the stage for what I'm sure was going to be an all night event. Theo said, "Coming through" and we ran between them. The guy acted like he was seeing Pink Elephants run through. My days in a fraternity (TKE!) helped me quickly smell that he was several sheets to the wind. It was probably 3 in the morning, he's on a quaint bridge down a trail sticking the moves on either his girl friend, or somebody he met that night and a guy with a German accent yells, "Coming through" and a bald guy shuffling (but thinking he's flying) come traipsing across the bridge.

We hit the aid station and I hit the Vaseline and soup, now my go-to move at the aid stations. They had some brownies which looked great, but maybe on a different day. Ted and his pacer came in about the same time and I believe got out a bit earlier.

The Home Stretch! Mt. Lion Knoll to Hazel (Mile 90!)

Again, breaking the race down this was another MAJOR milestone mentally. I was now heading toward the finish. I had run this section two weeks earlier. I had 84 miles on me and I still had legs. 24 hour pace was all but a memory so Theo said, and I concurred, "Let's just take it easy and finish good." Great advice. By now my Vaseline problems were getting a bit worse, I knew I'd hate the shower for many days to come, but I also knew it wasn't going to stop me. We continued the running for a few minutes and then walking with a purpose.

I actually had to pee at some point! That meant things were moving through me just fine. I wasn't really thirsty or hungry but I knew food and water were still a necessity. I was starting to get a little bit tired so I added a cup of Coke at the aid stations along with my Vaseline and soup routine.

We passed more runners and I saw some friends. This was exhilarating! About 3 miles back from the turnaround I saw Monica running with her pacer Trish, another good friend. I was elated to see Monica. Jeffery had told me back at Hazel Bluffs that Monica wasn't too far behind but that she was tired. She wrote a great race report a week or so after and talked about her fatigue. We stopped for a second to check in with each other and she told me she was running on a "Pepsi drip." Her race report later confirmed that she was doing whatever she good to stay away. She said she felt good and she congratulated me. I did the same and I said, "We're going to do this!" We've traded an email or two since the race and still both can't quite believe what a positive experience our first 100 milers were.

OK, more from the honesty camp, I did do some quick math and realized she was 6 miles behind me, I had about 13 to go…she could still catch me! If anybody could do it, it was Monica! Derek sent me some splits that he found post-race and sure enough she ran the last 10 or so miles faster than I did. Truly, had the race been longer she'd have caught me! Of course I would have pulled the "I got lost!" card in a heartbeat.

We passed Trish's husband Chuck. They run the Mile 78 aid station at Western States, where I got my start with ultrarunning. When I volunteered there Trish was running States, Chuck was manning the aid station. He's a great guy, very easy going and funny. He made that night at his aid station a lot of fun. He's also been VERY supportive of my running when I see him at races, etc. I yelled, "Chuck! You're looking great!" Chuck had literally decided to run the 100 miler a few days earlier, not a lot of training, and he'd go on to have his best 100 mile time. His answer was classic, "I'm not doing as good as you, T.O., you're in front of me! Keep it up, brother!"

We passed a few others and gave the standard, "Great job, looking good, keep it up!"

Hazel Bluffs (Mile 90!!!)

We reached Hazel and there was Jeffery. Now he was beaming. "You're going to do it, man!" I told him I was pretty much done with the eating and drinking and that Theo said I could make it on fumes at this point but he wouldn't have any of that. He made me chug some more Ensure, which actually tasted OK at that point, and slam another gel. I could do those in my sleep at that point (and kind of was I guess). Vaseline (with a glove, thanks Jeffery!) and we were off. I left Hazel with 10 miles to go, one water bottle and no fanny pack.

Leaving Hazel there is a steep immediate downhill. The Yo-yo guy was coming up with no light? I noticed he had a flashlight in hand. I'm still curious if he ran out of batteries, or if he just enjoyed a challenge? We caught up to Ted and his pacer on the bike path. We started seeing a bunch of lights coming out of the trees. Theo said it must be the 30 hour cut off group. There were a lot of runners and we exchanged "Atta boys!" Many of them looked good. Admittedly with only 10 miles to go for me, and they were still 23 from the finish I was very happy to be me. I couldn't imagine having 23 to go, but then again, it's less than a marathon!

We made it onto the trail behind Ted and his pacer. Ted took off and we stayed with him for what seemed like a mile or so, but was probably a few hundred yards. That was the last we saw of those two. Again, I was content at that point that I was going to finish. My "uncomfortable areas" were making the running a little bit hard, definitely a bow-legged waddle, so we let them go ahead.

Theo was incredibly supportive the last 10 miles. He kept me talking. We haven't had this conversation post-race, but I'm curious if he knew that I was starting to get tired or if he was just bored and wanted to pass the time as well? We talked a lot about running, training, a little family mixed in there, it was great. But I was starting to get tired. I don't remember the Negro Bar aid station at all (mile 94). I remember a couple of times thinking that I could understand the race reports I had read in the past where the runner wanted to curl up on the trail and take just a little cat nap. At one point Theo moved off the trail to take care of some business and I thought about laying down on the trail just to say I did it, but I also knew I might not get back up.

I do think I full on "sleep ran" for a couple of seconds here and there. We made it onto the bike path and wound our way to the final aid station, Folsom Dam Park, mile 97.62. I remember having a little bit of Coke and some soup but at this point I was just ready to be done.

THE HOME STRETCH! Folsom Dam Park to the Finish (100.72 miles)

I was going to finish a 100 miler! The sun was just beginning to rise and I've read on many occasions that with the sunrise comes a renewed sense of energy. That is 100% correct. We left Folsom Dam Park and I started running! I took off trying to leave Theo but of course he quickly caught me. "OK, enough of that" I said and we settled back into an easy pace. I could finally "smell the barn." My chafing issues aside (which were bad, I can't lie) I felt absolutely wonderful! I knew we'd finish somewhere around 25 hours and I was extremely happy with that. Which, of course, brings up a side-story.

We're pretty active, church-going folks. Our church schedule rotates every year, there are 4 congregations that meet in our building. This year we drew the 8:30 AM time slot. My wife has some responsibilities at church that she couldn't get out of. I felt guilty for making Sunday AM all about me, so I told my wife that if I finished before 8 AM it'd be great to see the family at the finish. If not, Jeffery would just drive me home and I'd catch them after church. I now knew that they'd be there and every time I thought of that I started getting a little emotional. When we were at Hazel Jeffery was either going to call Wendy, or he already had, but she was planning on being there around 7 AM, the 25 hour mark.

Theo and I were running a bit and I seriously started thinking that if I ran it in from there at a decent clip I'd arrive too soon. I discovered later that Wendy had made it to Cavitt with the kids by 6:30 AM so I could have sprinted and they'd have been there. But it was a funny train of thought thinking I had to put the breaks on a bit in order to have my picture-perfect finish of the kids being there.

With that said, there were a couple of stretches where I just took off, feeling great. It was now fully daylight. I knew the family unit would be there and we were within a mile or so of the finish. I just remember saying to Theo over and over, "I did it! I can't believe I did it!" Just a year ago I really didn't know anybody who had ever run 100 miles. In the past year I had met several folks who had done it but had some pretty horrific stories to tell about the experience. The more I thought about it, my two pacers, Derek and Theo, were a couple of folks who had told me that the experience was pretty darned good and here I was about to be in the 100 mile club and with a great story no less…it's not that bad!

We made our way up the dusty trail toward the levee. I actually had to make a quick pit stop before we got to the levee, again, all systems go! We reached the levee and Theo asked me how I was feeling. I told him that I think I was too spent to get emotional, but that I was happy the experience was almost over. I then turned left and started heading down the quarter mile hill leading to the school, to the finish line! All of a sudden I felt the muscles around my mouth starting to quiver…here come the emotions! I knew my kids were right around the corner, that my wife, who had been so supportive was right there, big smile and all. I've cried after a few marathons, just overcome with emotions. I never saw it coming the first couple, now I'm OK with it. I expected some tears after this race and they were starting early.

Then there they were! My kids were holding signs. My Dad is my hero! My kids were jumping up and down, shouting, my wife was there. I gave them 5's, I encouraged them to run with me and Sydney and Jake took off, I couldn't catch them! It was everything that I had imagined. There was Jeffery, shouting, he had been up all day and night, what support! My friends Staci and Melinda were there! What a surprise! They put in a lot of time coming to see me and it was greatly appreciated.

The signs say it all!

The kids with a little more kick left than me.

Almost there! The picture was a bit blurry due to my speed!

Into the cafeteria, 25 hours 12 minutes 58 seconds after I started!

I came into the school cafeteria (the finish line literally routes you inside) and Norm was there to greet me, "Well done, how do you feel?"

"I feel awesome!" I said!

"Pa, you're dirty!" Sydney said. My legs were FILTHY!

Norm sat me down and took my blood pressure, everything was OK. I lay down on the table so the folks at UC Davis could see how my body composition was post-run. They gave me the green light, I had salted and hydrated just fine. Eat, drink and be merry, you just ran 100 miles! I stepped on a scale, I was actually up a pound from the start, 169.

Norm taking my blood pressure, Finally, I'm done!

I thanked Theo and Jeffery profusely. It wouldn't have gone so well without the three of them. I can't thank them enough. I love this part of the race reports, similar to the Emmy's or Oscars, "I'd like to thank my agent, Marty, thanks for sticking with me man!" But seriously, what an effort to put on a 100 mile run. HUGE thanks to Norm and his staff of people who marked the course, manned the aid stations, everything was top notch. HUGE thanks to my crew who will forever be a part of my memories in helping me through my first 100. And a gigantic thanks to my family for their support. I seriously try harder than most I believe for my running to be little to no impact on my family. I want them to know I run, I want them to know I value exercise and staying in shape and of course I want them to run but I don't want them to resent running. I do all my week-day running before anybody opens an eye and I leave for my Saturday long runs in the pre-dawn hours in hopes of returning to still find them in their jammies watching cartoons. But this 100 caused me to miss a little more time on a Saturday AM, or to tell them goodnight at 7 PM while daddy goes off to run through the night. They were so supportive and it just cracks me up to hear them talk casually about their dad and his 100 mile race, or his 50 mile race. I'm sure they have teachers who just think my kids don't know what they are talking about.

Epilogue

Three weeks, 22,000 words later I've finally finished this race report. Work, family, and life have gotten in the way but I really wanted to lay everything out on the page. I became addicted to race reports prior to my first 100 and when I hit a long one I actually looked forward to reading about the experience. Hopefully there's at least one other runner who will find this information helpful.

I'm fully recovered, or at least I think I am. I'm running, lifting weights, cross training and eating ice cream much like I did before I ever took on this challenge and better yet, I can't wait to do it again. Just for the sake of the time involved I think the next 100 will be next year. Possibly the Headlands Hundred in August or maybe Rio again. I'm signed up to run the Helen Klein 50k on November 1^st and I can't wait. If a hundred miler is on your list of things to do, do it! I truly do feel like I'm a different person coming out on the other side of the experience. Happy trails everybody!

Deep Tissue Massage...To My Groin!?

2008-10-02T17:14:00.000-07:00

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you this brief story about the benefits of deep tissue massage. I'm still busily working on my race report from the Rio Del Lago 100 Mile Run and hope to post it in the next couple of days. Meanwhile, the folks from the Brooks Inspire Daily Team asked me to write about my experiences with overcoming an injury. I truly believe that while very painful, deep tissue massage has helped me run farther in the last 52 weeks than I have in my life! But not to worry, I'm still able to successfully mention my recent 100 mile finish...and yes, I've already been in for a deep tissue massage post race. Let me just say that deep tissue massage plus two days post-100 miler equals a bit of pain.

After successfully running a dozen marathons, as well as numerous other 5 and 10k races over the past 15 years, 2006 found me in new territory…injured! I had developed a groin injury that wasn’t only putting a damper on my running, it was also leaking into other activities from mowing the lawn to wrestling with my 4 kids. I tried to stay active, spending a lot of time on various elliptical machines, but nothing quite helped me escape like running.

In June of 2007 I was beginning to settle into my newfound role of master of the elliptical machine, and ex-runner packing on an extra 10 lbs. I had tried a variety of what I thought were traditional approaches to healing a groin. I had tried rest, ice, and stretching. I had gone to medical doctors wondering if I had some type of hernia. I completed weeks of physical therapy that included ultra sound machines, TENS units and every type of stretching exercise one could imagine. I found myself hooked up to an electro-accuscope, my groin played the role of a pin cushion to many accu-pressure needles but at the end of the day, no relief.

At the suggestion of a friend, I decided to volunteer at an aid station at the 2007 Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run from Lake Tahoe to Auburn, CA. I had decided that if I couldn’t run myself, I might as well live vicariously through others. I worked the mile 78 aid station. While there I noticed a number of runners who came through gave high-fives to a deep tissue massage therapist who had set up a small table at the aid station. The massage therapist, VeLoyce Shackleton, aka “the Monster” owned Monsters of Massage in Auburn, CA. The Monster had built quite a business working on endurance athletes, with a large percentage of his clientele ultra runners. A friend at the aid station, who heard of my groin trouble, suggested I chat with VeLoyce and ask him if there was anything that he could do to help. To be honest, the idea of a deep tissue massage to the groin sounded more like a form of punishment than relief. But in speaking with the Monster, he said he had treated many runners with the exact same injury. I had tried everything else, why not give deep tissue massage a try?

When I first booked with VeLoyce he recommended a half hour appointment. I thought all massages lasted an hour. I had never been to a massage therapist. In my mind, a massage was something you did if you were at the beach, and wanted to fall asleep while having someone gently rub your cares away. VeLoyce assured me that I couldn’t handle an hour of his deep tissue massage. As a matter of fact he figured I couldn’t handle 10 minutes of his deep tissue massage. He was right.

The theory behind deep tissue massage, I learned, was to cause trauma to the area a) to increase the amount of blood flow to the injury and b) to release toxins and other symptoms found in a muscle-tissue injury. After the first session I was bruised. The second session was worse. But by the 6^th session I was beginning to notice relief. I continued to see VeLoyce for several more weeks just to be safe. I started running again and I was pain free.

Shortly after I started running again I decided that I could become a trail runner, much like those inspirational runners from Western States. Over the next 12 months I went on to run 6 50k ultramarathons, 1 50 mile run and last Saturday I completed the Rio Del Lago 100 Mile Endurance Run in 25 hours and 12 minutes, good for 24^th place overall.

My routine now consists of regular deep tissue massage in the Monster’s Den, at least 3 weeks prior to a race and 2 weeks post-race. I’ve run more miles than I ever have in my life and I’ve been completely injury free!

I RAN 100 MILES!

2008-09-29T10:19:00.000-07:00

I did it! I ran 100 miles. Actually a little more than that thanks to a bit of a detour along the way. I figure I did 102, maybe 103. My official finishing time was 25 hours 12 minutes and 58 seconds, good for 24th place overall. While my day was darned near perfect, the conditions weren't so good for quite a few others. Only 50 finished, 46 dropped. I'll have PLENTY more in the next couple of days, that was an experience like nothing else I've ever done.

Couple of quick thoughts before embarking on the race report...

1. If you thought my 20 year HS reunion post (below) is long, I can't imagine how long this report is going to go!

2. I'm very, very disappointed in my junk-food intake. Apparently my body is having a little fun with me. I put it through 100 miles of torture and it's going to hold back my appetite for a couple of days. Here I sit Monday morning and I HAVEN'T BEEN HUNGRY YET! I think I'll force feed myself In-n-Out for lunch and I'll make myself eat ice cream tonight if necessary. Last night (Sunday night) I fell asleep before eating ice cream! I won't let that happen again.

3. I'm shocked to say this but while yes, my legs hurt A LOT, it's nothing worse than any other marathon, 50k or 50 miler. I even called my wife over this AM to show her I could walk downstairs like a normal human being. Typically I have to walk downstairs backwards for a day or two.

4. What a difference a crew makes. Man, between my crew chief (and ultrarunner extraordinaire) Jeffery Johnston, to my pacers, Derek Semanski and Theo Wirth, they kept me moving, eating, you name it all day (and all night) leaving me absolutely zero time to think about dropping from the race at any point.

What a wonderful experience, what a day! I'm now in the 100 mile club! PLENTY more to follow!

Tony