Well, I was disqualified (DQ’d) at mile 24! Here is the story:

I arrived in Truckee California in the Sierra Nevada (6000’) on Wednesday 21^st , in part to allow myself to acclimate to the high elevations that I would experience in the race. My first stop was Donner State Park, a beautiful park with a very sad history for it was here in October of 1846 that the Donner Party of 80 some souls became stranded in the winter snows and forced to spend several months subsisting for survival. Only half survived until rescue in early Spring. They did so partly by eating their own dead. The park was beautiful and my hotel was nearby it and the picturesque old west downtown area.

On Thursday I spent the morning exploring the shops in Truckee and in the afternoon I attended a WS100 pre-race briefing. WS100 is supposed to be the most challenging one day event is the world. Forget Survivor and Fear Factor. This is the real thing! With elevations as high as 8750’, 18,000+ feet of climb and 23,000+ feet of descent it’s not supposed to be easy. At the training camp I attended in May the Race Director seemed to me to sneer as he described rerouting of the course that "added difficulty". Now we were being told that record high temperatures were expected in the canyons and still a lot of deep snow remained in the alpine high country. The cut-off times were not being extended this year either as they were last year because of the snow. A cougar had been chased off the trail by a clearing party two weeks ago. I was feeling a distinct tightness in my throat as Shannon, the cute blonde surfer girl from Malibu I had met at Camp pulled her chair up next to mine and provided just enough distraction to stave off full blown panic.

My response to the heat threat was to purchase a 64 oz "camelback" and a hat with a zippered compartment to hold ice at the WS100 store. I realized that the amount of water I could carry would be critical and even three 20 oz bottles might not be enough. On Friday morning I reported for my official entry and medical check. The race packet included batteries from Energizer, another new Camelback and "deodorant for risk takers". My weight was 137 fully clothed (Ok) but my blood pressure was high (155/95) and heart rate high too (82). It did not help that the exam was conducted facing the 8750’ snow capped mountain that would be the first climb at 5:00AM Saturday. Maybe the elevation contributed too. I’ve gotten pretty sick before at 9000’ without any athletic activity. I kept telling myself I’m trained, I’m ready, I’ll do fine.

Picking up Mariela at the airport at noon Friday I could feel my blood pressure drop 10 points. She always has such a calming influence on me. So organized, so confident, so capable – she said "Bob it will be just fine, relax!" I determined that my goal would be getting to Mariela at mile 62 – if I could get there I could go all the way through the night to the finish! My friend German’s pacer Russell was with Mariela and together we drove up into the mountains above Lake Tahoe to stay with his other pacer David, his dad and 16 year old niece the night before the race. I brought in two sacks of groceries and took them up two flights of stairs. At the top I was gasping – not a good sign. Even so it was a pleasant evening because with the great view and all the good company I forgot to panic.

I awoke at 2:30AM super excited. I got everybody else up and pretty soon we were headed for Squaw Valley and the starting line. At 5:00AM the gun went off as 400 runners started up Emigrant Peak on ski trails lit with electric lights almost to the mountain top. It was an incredible, surreal sight.

Like a ladder to heaven! It was tough, steady work though and I tried not to push too hard. Dawn came halfway up as we encountered larger and larger patches of snow. I took a picture of Shannon just below me.

With my GPS watch I knew our elevation at every point. I announced it to anybody nearby. "7000’, 7500’, 8000’…." Going through the snow was tough. Your foot broke through ice, and then sank into slush. If you were not careful to step in others steps you could slide to the side, back a few feet or ski down slope on your trail shoes. Where there was no snow there was mud - thick, dark mud that oozed into your shoes. In some places the snow was melted from below and, if you were lucky, a hole you could easily break a leg in showed on the surface. There was a final steep push to the summit at 8750’. I turned around and snapped this photo. I felt on top of the world!

Descending the western flank of the Sierra put us in another realm. Now there were alpine meadows instead of bare rock. Flowers bloomed in the snow. Clear streams flowed everywhere, especially in the trail. And yes there was more thick sucking mud! Descending through 8500’ we came to snow areas up to a mile long. The going was very rough and I was too stressed to talk or snap pictures. "Descending" meant going a couple hundred feet up then 400 feet down and on and on. The trail ran on jagged rocks often under ice melt water. I felt tired. It was a constant tired that did not seem to change even when there was a nice run-able downhill. In places the trail was hard to find and I remember getting lost for a little while with "Becky" the Energizer Bunny (she was hoping to earn that award from the Sponsor as last finisher). We passed through 7500’ and the trail became full of sharp "prickers" growing low to the ground.

I began to realize I was approaching the back of the pack. Not a good place in a race with enforced cut - offs. When I tried to run faster my heart raced and I could feel the fatigue build up quickly in my legs. Gradually the snow patches became smaller and better trail allowed me to pick up the pace without oxygen debt. I began to pass runners one by one. Beautiful scenes on Lyon Ridge demanded a picture:

Four hours passed then five. All the while the trail had not descended past 7000’. In one place there was a 200’ almost vertical rock face to climb on hands and feet. We passed close to cliffs where a miss-step could result in a fall of hundreds of feet. Golly! Got to take a picture of that! I may never see a sight like that again in my life!

Up hundreds of feet – down hundreds more! Repeat! Now the heat was on. A safety patrolman filled my hat with snow and packed it around my head. A brain freeze! Water dripped in my face from then on but I needed it and I filled it four more times before the snow finally ran out. Between the Lyon Ridge aid station and the Red Star Ridge aid station I ran out of water – all 80+ ounces gone! I fell once and got up covered with black dirt. I passed Red Star only 15 minutes ahead of the cut – off but I asked them to refill my camelback up to the brim. The weight was killing my shoulders – what choice did I have?

The next section was the "new addition" to the bottom of Duncan Canyon. It was in terrible shape. A fire had destroyed the forest and dangerous trees by the trail had been dynamited to fell them. Downed trees and debris were left on the trail and the area was exposed to full, hot sun. It was the obstacle course from hell! I kept counting down the miles to Mariela. 62 at the start now 50 now 45. The elevation stayed at 7000’ up 200, down 200 – where was the canyon? I looked for nice run-able downhill that never seemed to come:

I had passed at least 20-30 runners since Lyon Ridge. Overhead was a helicopter evacuating a heart attack victim only 51 years old. I later found out he was stable by morning. I passed three runners lying by the trail attended to by the safety patrols – thank God for those volunteers. I prayed for strength and safety. After about six hours into the race I realized using my GPS that I might not make the 11:30AM cut – off at the bottom of Duncan Canyon. I kept up the pace though just in case there was a dispensation. Mariela was going to be waiting for me at Foresthill.

Finally the steep downhill and then the aid station came in view. A race official pronounced me "late to cut – off" by 8 minutes and cut my wrist band off. I was DQ’d! I felt devastated and relieved at once. It was now 96 degrees in the shade. Deadwood Canyon would be 117 degrees in a couple of hours. At my pace I could not be expected to make the cut – offs further on where I’d be required to do two consecutive 2000’ climbs feeling 120-130 degrees on my flesh.

"Catra what are you doing here?" This was the girl I met in Camp who planned to run all the way to the finish and all the way back without stopping! She had tattoos all over (every part I could see – big stars going up both legs), purple hair and 25 body piercings. 10 holes in one ear, 6 in the other, 3 in the nose and six others I did not ask for specifications on. Well, she was DQ’d with me!

My theory is that with all those body piercings, all the Gatorade leaked out!

Well now we had to wait to be evacuated. It was blazing hot! An hour passed then two. The aid station was packed up and gone. We were left under a tree. I was stranded in the High Sierra like the Donners with a bunch of ultrarunners. None of them looked like they had much meat on their bones – except Miss Energizer Bunny…

A van finally pulled up and I got in with Becky and two other ladies who all got sick on the hour long mountain drive back – but we were rescued! Mariela was standing there as the van pulled up to the Foresthill School Aid Station. What disappointment! She found another runner to pace though and I busied myself with driving her and German’s pacers around.

Through the evening we monitored German’s progress via the internet. At Devil’s Thumb he had lost 10 pounds. I prayed for him and worried. Then later that evening he ran past me at Foresthill looking strong and recovered. Wow! What a triumph! Russell began running with him and David knew he would be taking over at 2AM.

The next morning German with David ran through the finish at 28:59. It was a jubilant moment for us all! Mariela brought her runner in a little after, one of less than 200 to finish the race.

A final note:

At 11:00PM Saturday the Race Leader Brian Morrison of Seattle stepped onto the track with 18:00 on the race clock – 15 minutes or more ahead of number two. He staggered and fell on the hard rubber surface just 300 meters from the finish line. Instinctively his pacers picked him up by the arms and he was able to stagger and crawl on his own to the finish line where an ambulance awaited. His time - 18:05. Hours later he awoke in the hospital to find out that he had been disqualified because his pacers were judged to have aided his physical progress in lifting him up. He got nothing for finishing – just like the man who crossed the line at 30:01 - 59 minutes before noon on Sunday. Those are the rules at WS100.

Shannon was injured and dropped at Devil’s Thumb.

I am convinced that altitude was the main factor in my failing to make the cut – off. I know my limits now. It’s not something I can practically train for - real acclimation takes three weeks or more at altitude. I believe in searching for my limits though I’m driven to test them occasionally. There will be more tests but not at WS. Not for me.