The Western States 100 | Why the Fourth Saturday in June is the Best Day of the Year



     There’s something special about the Western States 100. It’s hard to describe, but the best simplification I can come up with is that it’s humanity at its finest. Sure, it’s just an arbitrary competition, but in the big picture it’s more than that. It’s 369 people attempting to do something incredibly hard and thousands of surrounding people offering them help doing it. It’s a welcome summer day of excitement, positivity and a massive amount of human kindness, and for the past four years it’s been my favorite day of the year. 
The first time I went to the race was in 2016. That year, I talked my mom into driving out to the small town of Foresthill for the afternoon—62 miles into the race. We watched Jim Walmsley fly by at a pace that was unprecedented for a person trying to run 100 miles in the mountains. We followed him to the river (mile 78) and watched with panic as it swept him 20 meters away from the crossing before he safely reached the other side. Finally, we waited for him to set the course record at the Placer High School track, but a missed turn at mile 93 meant he wouldn’t finish until long after we sleepily hit the road to go home. Instead, we watched a young kid (Andrew Miller) just two years older than myself earn the most coveted victory in our sport.
     The next year we returned to watch a more experienced Jim Walmsley seek almost certain redemption, but mud, scorching heat, and unreasonable expectations led him to vomiting, delirium, and an eventual DNF. Instead, it was returning challenger Ryan Sandes who took home the trophy, along with underdog and graduate of my own university Cat Bradley who earned the women’s title. 
     The following June I had the best day of my life. Despite an abysmal 2% chance, I had previously been selected in the Western States lottery, and on June 23rd, 2018 I made my way through the Sierra Nevada mountains from Squaw Valley to Aurburn California. By no means was it the perfect day, but with the help of my friends and family tirelessly driving to various points of the course, providing me aid, sharing my excitement, and offering encouragement, I shuffled onto the Placer High track 28 hours and 35 minutes after I started. It was a glorious adventure for everyone involved. While I was moving slowly along, my crew was sleeplessly waiting for me at remote aid stations. After the race, they had endless stories of making friends with other runners’ crews, volunteers, and Auburn residents who had helped them for no reason other than the fact that everyone was in it together, and it was a nice thing to do. 
     This year I’m thousands of miles away from Auburn on exchange in New Zealand, but the fourth Saturday in June was still a day I was gleefully looking forward to. Between the texts from my parents, who were on site enjoying the race for themselves, and the frequent twitter updates, I thought about the Western States 100 and my own ambitions to win someday. More than anything though I just couldn’t wait to be back in Foresthill and Auburn on the fourth Saturday (and Sunday morning) in June. Whether that means running, spectating, volunteering, or crewing, I don’t care. I just can’t wait to go back. 
     Mark your calendars everybody; There’s only 363 days until the Western States 100 (at the time of this writing). 

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