My First DNF - A quick recap of my attempt at The Canyons 100K

After successfully completing the Bulldog 50K in August of 2016 I felt as though I had stepped into another dimension.  I got my first taste of what it was like to run an ultra marathon and be part of that small group that runs beyond the standard marathon.  The sense of adventure and accomplishment caused me to dive even further and after a couple of months I felt I was ready for a new challenge.  After doing some research, I decided to sign up for The Canyons 100K, a double out and back course beginning at the elementary school in Foresthill, California.  The course would follow the Western States Trail through the ‘Canyons’ section, turn around at the pit of Deadwood Canyon, pass through Foresthill again and finally descend down to the American river where we would then turn around and head back to the finish line at the elementary school where we started.  On Saturday 4/29/17 after a restless night’s sleep, I awoke at 3:30 AM and began race preparations in the motel room that my wife, mother in law, and our dogs had reserved for the weekend in Auburn.  My wife dropped me off at the starting line in Foresthill in front of the elementary school at 5:15 AM.  I stood there among the other runners, shaking with anticipation until the race began at 5:30 AM.  The race was on!  We made our way up Foresthill road for a mile and a half until the road met up with the Western States Trail and we began our decent into Volcano canyon.  The notoriously challenging ‘Canyons’ section of the trail would be during the first 32 miles of the race.  The second half down to the river was relatively easy comparatively.  Making my way down, I began chatting with some of the other racers.  One guy, who was local, was about to compete in the Western States 100 mile endurance run for the tenth straight year in June.  Another older gentleman from Oregon had been an ultra marathon runner for over thirty years.  These were some of the gnarliest SOB’s I’d ever met and I fed off their enthusiasm.  Eventually we would come to the first of many river crossings at the bottom of Volcano canyon.  Approaching the bottom, we pulled up to a short line of runners waiting to cross the river.  The crossing was about ten feet wide and the water came up to my knees.  The icy cold water felt rejuvenating even though it was early in the morning and fairly cool out.  After stepping out of the river we began a sharp climb up to the first aid station at Michigan Bluff, mile 6.2.  I stopped there for a few minutes to delayer, use the restroom and grab a small handful of trail mix before hitting the trail again for the 3 mile 1,800 foot decent into El Dorado Canyon.  Running down the trail felt good and I was enjoying the scenery.  Though I tried to not let it shake me, I took mental note that I would eventually have to climb back up this decent for the return to Foresthill.  Once I reached the aid station at the bottom of El Dorado Canyon, I crossed the bridge and began the longest climb of the race, a 2,500 foot 4 mile climb up to The Pump aid station at mile 13.5 just before Devil’s Thumb.  It was a bit of a hike to get there but the enthusiasm from the other runners and the beautiful scenery carried me along pleasantly.  When I reached The Pump I was feeling pretty good mentally and physically.  I wolfed down some salty snacks, refilled my water bottle with electrolyte sports drink and my Camelback with water.  I received an uplifting sendoff from the volunteers, many of them in costume, and headed down the trail to make the decent into Deadwood Canyon where I would turn around at the bottom.  The plunge down there was steep and descended a good 1,700 feet in 1.5 miles.  Turning around at the bottom, I now had to make my way back up this steep climb.  It was a remorseless climb but the views were a good distraction.  Much of this section of the trail showcased the surrounding forest with towering pine trees, green rolling hills, and the snowy mountain peaks of South Lake Tahoe jabbing at the sky above the trees in the distance.  I finally passed by Devil’s Thumb and back through The Pump aid station and began picking up my pace, knowing that I was now going to be running 4 miles downhill back into El Dorado Canyon.  Still feeling pretty good, I refilled my water bottle at the gorge and began the long 3 mile 1,800 foot climb back up to Michigan Bluff.  It was tough going and my quads were starting to feel it, but the smell of fresh pine was in the air and when I finally made my way to the aid station at Michigan Bluff I was mentally lifted.  I paused there for a few minutes, moved onward, descended back down into Volcano Canyon, crossed the river again and eventually made it back to the junction where the trail meets up with Foresthill road.  Hobbling down the trail parallel to the road, I saw my wife and dog running towards me.  This made my smile and I could not have been happier to see them!  We ran together for the last quarter of a mile back to elementary school where my mother in law and wife had setup a chair for me and fed me fruit, donuts, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a good dose of healthy motivation. I had now covered 31 miles and was feeling great.  When it was time to resume the race, I could barely stand.  It took me a few steps to acclimate to the pain in my quads but eventually I was able to move forward.  I bid my crew farewell and set out to tackle the second leg of the race.  The trail would now drop around 2,500 feet in 16 miles and several sections of the trail rolled parallel to the American river.  The terrain was much easier than the first half.  I ran along gradually downhill to the Cal 1 aid station at mile 35 but shortly after departing, my quads began yelling at me.  A mile later, they were screaming.  By the time I hit the Cal 2 aid station at mile 40, they were cursing every four letter word in the book at me.  A volunteer advised me that it was 7 and a half miles to Rucky Chuck where the course would turn around and head back up to Foresthill.  The cutoff time to be there was 7:00 PM.  My watch read 5:26 PM so I was fairly confident I could make it.  The crowd at the aid station was enthusiastic and supportive and gave me a great sendoff but a mile and a half down the trail my quads had finally had it.  They simply couldn’t content with the downhill pressure anymore.  Going downhill was excruciating and I now could only shuffle about 20 feet before being forced to walk.  Although the odds seem stacked against me, I kept walking along, running when capable, still optimistic that I would make the 7:00 PM cutoff.  When I arrived at Ford’s Bar it was becoming increasingly apparent that my race would be coming to an abrupt end at Rucky Chucky.  This infuriated me.  How could I not finish?  I couldn’t believe I had dragged my mother in law and wife all the way here and was going to have nothing to show for it except sore muscles and mosquito bites.  I wanted to take the hat and race shirt that was part of my race package and burn them.  I had failed and that was it.  ‘Screw it’ I thought.  I may have failed but I’m at least going to preserve the last ounce of dignity that I have and walk my ass down to Rucky Chucky.  During the long walk to the check point I was able to re-assess the situation.  Sure, I had failed but isn’t failure part of learning and growing?  Isn’t it true that if we never fail, we aren’t challenging ourselves enough?  An oncoming runner shook me from my thoughts.  I had met her earlier on in the race and explained that even though I knew I wouldn’t make the cut off time I was still heading down to Rucky Chucky anyway.  ‘Hey man, great job’ she said ‘This course is a killer and the fact that you made it this far on your first 100K attempt is fantastic!’ I thanked her and said I would train harder and come back next year for redemption.  We parted ways and I made the final half mile walk to the aid station, quads on fire, barely able to walk forward, smiling widely.  At Rucky Chucky there were 2 volunteers and a half dozen other runners who were in the same boat as me.  We gave each other props for our courageous attempt and were driven back to the start/finish line by the volunteers.  Shortly after arriving, my wife picked me up and brought me back to the hotel.  Even though I didn't finished, it sure felt like I did.  I had covered 47.8 miles in 14 hours on the Western States Trail.  My crew was proud of me for how far I made it and I was so thrilled to have been able to run on this epic trail with such stunning scenery and where so many great ultra runners had set foot before!  I slept soundly that night with good vibes in my head.  So, Canyons 100K, you may have won this time but this is far from over!  I will train harder, log more distance and I’ll be back next year and this time it’s war!  And lastly, thank you for the experience and helping me further realize that failure is not the end of the road.  If you fail in life it simply means that you are living life the way it was meant to be lived.  And that’s living if you ask me!