The next morning during my drive to Auburn, I utilized Rio Del Lago's online tracker to monitor Tony and Gus's progress. They had started the race at 5:00 in the morning and when I left the Bay Area at 9:30, they were somewhere around the twenty-three mile mark. They were throwing down an eleven-minute pace and I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to keep up with them. "Man, I could screw this up badly" I laughed to myself. My anxiety was driven by the spur of the moment decision to make this trip, the possibility of Tony and Gus having to wait for me if I arrived late to Overlook, the possibility of having an "off day", and potentially not being able to keep up with their impressive pace. "What if they drop me four miles into it?" I thought. But the opportunity to help my friends complete a 100-miler and the thought of spending quality time after not seeing them for quite a long time was enough to mitigate my fear. Once I arrived, I parked my car on the street near Overlook Park, made my preparations for the journey ahead, and walked over to the main parking lot. The Rio Del Lago 100-miler passes through Overlook Park two times throughout the race; at mile forty-four, and again at mile seventy-four. My pacing duties would begin here at mile forty-four and conclude thirty miles later, when we returned. Between those two junctures would be long stretches of fire road, single track trail, technical hills, beautiful mountain wilderness, a few aid stations, pain, joy, and hopefully, no major emergencies or meltdowns. But I was ready, just in case. As I entered the park and made my way towards the course, I was greeted by Sheny and the rest of the crew as they were setting up a small outpost complete with chairs and small tables stocked with plenty of snacks and drinks for the guys when they rolled in. A digital clock rested off to the side of the trail at the crest of the hill that we were on as runners made their way into the small dwelling of canvas tents and race crews. Once I checked in with a race official and received my pacer bib, I got more acquainted with the crew while we waited for Tony, Gus, and Nelson to arrive. Sheny and her sister Corina, or Cori as we call her, introduced me to Gus's girlfriend Mishelle, Nelson's girlfriend Kat, and their friends Diana and Jerry, who had all come up from Southern California to help get Tony, Nelson, and Gus to the finish line. There was a lot of positive energy in the air and everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Eventually, Nelson crested the hill and made his way over to our area. Tony and Gus arrived shortly after. All three of them took a seat in the chairs as we greeted them and brought them provisions. To my delight, they all seemed to be holding themselves together quite well. A lot can happen in forty-four miles, and the guys looked fresh and were feeling good overall. The plan was for Jerry to pace Nelson all the way to the finish line, and when I returned to Overlook Park with Tony and Gus at mile seventy-four, Cori, who was Tony's girlfriend, would pace him to the finish line, and Diana would do the same for Gus. After some rest and regrouping, the guys made their final preparations for the next leg of the journey, and Nelson and Jerry took off down the path. Soon after, Tony said he was going to start walking, and Gus and I departed about ten minutes after, around 3:00 PM. As we ran down the trail, Gus in front, me closely behind, I admired the surroundings. Much of the stretch that I would be running with Tony and Gus would traverse the Western States trail and Quarry road, following a very similar course to the Way To Cool 50K and American River 50-miler. Gus explained that the first eighteen miles of the course had been on relatively flat bike path, which allowed he and Tony to run a brisk pace during that stretch. However, this next section would be on trails with some technical hills. That, factored in with already having run fifty miles created an element of uncertainty. You just never know what could happen. Eventually we caught up with Tony and followed some rolling hills down to the aid station at No Hands Bridge. It was ten and a half miles to the next aid station at Auburn Trail Lakes, so I made sure that the guys had enough nourishment as I filled my water bottles. Soon after departing from No Hands Bridge, we crossed highway forty-nine, which deposited us onto Quarry road, a long stretch of fire road that we would follow for the next several miles. The non-technical and more gentle terrain allowed the three of us to enjoy the scenery of the Sierra foothills, and engage in conversation. As is the case with most ultrarunners and their pacers, we shared stories and learned more about each other. Tony and Gus were both born in El Salvador, and grew up there until their parents moved the family to the States during their youth to Texas, and California shortly after. They talked about the challenges they faced as two young Salvadoran kids adapting to life the U.S. by learning a new language and growing accustomed to a new culture. Gus went on to tell me that despite he and Tony being ten years apart in age, they had always been close brothers, and that it was Tony that introduced him to ultrarunning. At the time he began running he weighed close to three-hundred pounds and in the last few years, running ultras had allowed him to lose almost half of his body weight. As Gus and I made our way down the trail, Tony followed closely behind. "How's it going Tony?" I asked. When I didn't hear a response I turned around and laughed when I saw him holding a large Ziploc bag full of potato chips in one hand and stuffing his face with the other. "I'm good, just need some salt" he answered. As we approached Main Bar, the junction dumped us onto a single track trail with Tony in front, me in the middle, and Gus behind. Despite being only eleven miles into it, I was happy to be part of this experience and started to become loopy. We would have long moments where no words were exchanged, during which I would break the silence with ridiculous comments about being happy to be the meat of the Tony and Gus sandwich and how were the TLG train (Tony, Liam, Gus). As we ascended a hill, we came across a runner vomiting off to the side of the trail "That's good, get it all out" her pacer told her as she staggered back onto the course. "Nice work guys, you got this" we said as we ran by. "Dude, that was Amanda!" Tony said once we were out of hearing range. Unbeknownst to me, he was referring to the girl's pacer and went on to explain that she was a professional ultrarunner from Utah who came in as the fourth place female at Western States the year before. "Gus, I think we're going to go up Goat Hill" Tony said as we made our way up a series of switchbacks.
The sun had just fallen completely below the horizon when we rolled into the Auburn Trail Lakes aid station around 6:45 PM. Tony and Gus took a seat in the camping chairs behind the tables and changed into warmer clothes while I brought them food and refilled their water bottles. Ten and a half miles is an unusually long distance between aid stations in a 100-miler, so Auburn Trial Lakes was a welcoming sight, with tables stocked with quesadillas, PB&J sandwiches, chips, cookies, hot broth, and friendly, helpful volunteers. After a quick respite at Auburn Trail Lakes, we continued onward. The guys were holding themselves together quite well, and Tony, although a bit shaken, remained determined. It was now very dark as the TLG train made their way along the rolling trail. Running on trails during the day is one thing, but things get a lot more interesting when nighttime kicks in. A sense of tunnel vision sets in, and your whole world is confined to the light of your headlamp. In my experience, running on trails at night has created situations where my senses are unusually acute, and any little movement or sound immediately catches my attention. Therefore, I become easily startled. As we rounded a corner, we heard a rustling in the shrubs off to the side of the trail. I turned my head abruptly to the left, and in the beam of my headlamp, I saw a runner relieving herself in the brush. "Sorry!" she exclaimed as she laughed. "All good!" I answered. "We thought you were an animal". Or at least I did. Whether they were less startled by abrupt noises in the wilderness at night, or just too tired to care, Tony and Gus weren't phased by the encounter. "I think we're going to hit Goat Hill soon" Tony said. "Yeah, I'm surprised we haven't hit it yet" Gus answered. The guys had made some references to "Goat Hill" throughout the race and now I was becoming curious. "It's a grind, but it's not too long in mileage" they explained when I asked for more details. As we made our way over a hill, the trail made an abrupt right hand turn, and began a steep climb into darkness. "Ah, here we go!" Tony said. "Is this it you guys?" I asked. "This is the infamous 'Goat Hill' you guys have been talking about? This better be as awesome as you guys have built it up to be. I have high expectations" I said jokingly as we began our ascent. They weren't kidding when they said it was a grind. The climb was about three quarters of a mile long, but the grade was about twenty percent. Or, said another way, it was steep as shit. "Nice! Goat Hill did not disappoint" I said as we crested the climb. All three of us broke into laughter as we continued down the winding trail, happy that we had conquered the tough climb. As the miles continued on, Tony had become very quiet. He kept moving at a brisk pace, but it seemed that something was strangely off. "Tony, how's it going?" I asked. But I didn't get a response and he just shrugged his shoulders as if to say "Dude, I don't know". I was becoming mildly concerned. I pulled up along side him, put my hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the face. "Hey man, you good?" I asked. He smiled and nodded his head. I knew that he was going to need to regroup at the next aid station, the junction where the trail crosses highway forty-nine, which was probably less than a mile ahead. "You got this" I told him convincingly.
Soon enough, the lights of the aid station came into view, much to our relief. Police cars with flashing lights were parked along the side of the desolate highway and police officers guided runners across the road to the aid station. Upon arrival, Tony immediately took a seat and Gus and I removed his shoes, massaged his legs, and fed him hot soup and Coca-cola. Clearly the mounting distance was taking a toll on him, but after a few minutes of being off his feet and nourishing himself, he began to come back to life. There is a notorious saying that is common among ultrarunners at aid stations known as "beware of the chair". Being off your feet for a few minutes at an aid station can be a necessary relief sometimes, but if runners get too comfortable, it can be very difficult to get back up continue. The volunteers were friendly and dedicated to taking care of runners, but they were also focused on keep us moving. As we departed the aid station, it seemed as though Tony's energy had been at least partially restored. White Christmas lights lined the first hundred yards of the trail as we made our exit and disappeared back into the midnight wilderness. We had intermittently ran with other pacers and runners over the last several miles, but we now found ourselves alone on the trail once again. That is until we saw lights from two runners about a hundred feet ahead coming straight towards us. Tony stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait, it's that way" he said pointing to the right. Gus and I paused, and sure enough, the trail had split into a Y shape, and we glanced over to the right as one of the many orange florescent ribbons that had been marking the course appeared on a tree branch on the other path. "Hey guys, we went the wrong way" we heard a voice call out as the two runners approached us. The five of us made the short traverse across the grass and onto the correct path. The duo turned out to be another runner and pacer, and despite taking the wrong path, they remained determined and energetic. Knowing that Tony was coherent enough to realize that we had almost gone the wrong way brought Gus and I a sense of relief. We soon found ourselves alone on the trail again, but the comfort of knowing that we only had a couple of miles left before arriving back at No Hands Bridge pulled us into an up zone. We felt more energized and engaged in buoyant conversation as we hammered along, until I noticed something peculiar. "Hey guys, are we good? I haven't seen a ribbon in forever". There was a brief moment of silence. "I think so" Gus finally said. "There hasn't been any other turns since we saw those two girls coming back the other way". He had a point but still, we were all alone and it had been at least a good mile since we'd seen a ribbon marking the course. When ten more minutes passed by and we still hadn't encountered the florescent glow of a course ribbon, the guys had me run ahead in search of one. Just when I began to feel legitimately concerned, a bright, shiny ribbon appeared off to the side of the trail in the trees. "Guys! we're good!" I called out with delight. This triggered flashbacks to my experience at Tahoe Rim Trail 100 earlier this year when I began hallucinating in the middle of the night and was convinced that I was going the wrong way although in reality, everything was perfectly fine. Gus and Tony had not crossed into the hallucination phase by this point, but who knew what could happen later on.
When we arrived at the No Hands Bridge aid station we were greeted by enthusiastic volunteers and there was a large crowd of runners and pacers gathered around the food tents. As we hobbled down the approach, Cori and Mishelle emerged from the crowd. This instantly lifted Gus and Tony's spirits and I think, especially for Tony, seeing Cori in that moment was crucial in boosting his morale. After refilling their water bottles, chowing down on some hot food, and a quick rub down, the guys were ready to continue. Mishelle helped Gus make his final preparations before departing to the next checkpoint, and Cori joined the three of us for the four-mile stretch from No Hands Bridge back to Overlook Park. At that point, my work would be done, and Diana and Cori would pace the guys through the night and to the finish line. As we continued onward, we filled Cori in on how things were going, shared some laughs, and before long, the hustle and bustle of Overlook Park was upon us. As our outpost that we had been at thirty miles before came into view, Gus and Tony wrapped themselves in warm blankets and took a seat in the chairs, as I congratulated them on their progress thus far. "These guys are doing great. Hopefully they didn't save all the puking and hallucinating for you guys" I told Cori and Diana jokingly. All things considered, things had gone well, and I was confident that both Tony and Gus would finish strong. I would have loved to have stuck around to see them finish, but it was after 1:00 AM, and I had to get back home to get some sleep for the busy work week ahead. The guys and I embraced in a big hug and I told them I'd be tracking them the rest of the way. After bidding the team farewell, I made the wobbly walk back to my car and hit the freeway, bound for home. During the ride I reflected on the experience and thought about what it really means to be a pacer. To me, it's not just about being there for your runner. It's not just about making sure they finish the race. It's about friendship and connection. The experience is just as much about hanging out and spending quality time with friends as it is making sure they finish. These are the kinds of experiences that create special bonds within the ultrarunning community and maintain strong friendships that last a lifetime. When I awoke the next morning, Nelson had just finished, and shortly after, Gus and Tony crossed the finish line in just under twenty nine hours. I couldn't have been more proud of them and I was grateful to Cori, Mischelle, Kat, Sheny, Jerry and Diana for being amazing pacers and crew members. Congratulations Tony, Gus, and Nelson, and way to be a kick-ass crew, Sheny, Cori, Mischelle, Diana, Kat, and Jerry! One team, one dream.
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