Angeles Crest 100–From Good, to Bad, to Great

 

In 2018, following my finish of the Western States 100, my first 100 mile race, I decided I’d like to do one 100 mile race per year if possible. Then, in 2019 I went to New Zealand for the year and never had an opportunity to run a 100 mile race. When I returned, I threw my name into the AC100 lottery. I was living in Santa Barbara at the time so the AC100 would require limited travel. Additionally, my buddy Austin, who got on the waitlist for the race himself, lived just 5 minutes from the finish line. 

Then, Covid came along, and the race was canceled in 2020. The next year, I was in New Mexico for grad school and was planning to train for AC100 in 2021, but sometime in April I got an email that due to fire damage, the race would have to be canceled yet again. In 2022, we got another email saying that the course would be dramatically changed, but it was to go ahead. I wasn’t sure about the course changes, but eventually made the decision to participate. 

Training in the months prior involved daily 9-11 mile runs (with one day off per week) including twice weekly speedwork sessions. For one day per week on the weekend, I’d do a 3-5 hour long run. On top of this, I had a few longer training races. In May I participated in a low-key event in the Magdalena mountains consisting of 29 very rocky miles with 8000’ of climbing, all at above 6700' with a highest point of 10,783. In late June I completed the Cuchara 60K (which ended up being 41 miles) including 8000’ of climbing at between 9 and 11000 feet. Finally, on Thursday, August 4th, I flew to Burbank and met up with Austin to race the Angeles Crest 100. 

The new course was an out and back with 23000’ of climbing. The race directors informed us that this course would be considerably more challenging than the original—Gary Hillyard made it clear that this would be similar in difficulty to the Wasatch 100. The toughest section would be miles 77-89. This section, to be run during the night, would take us over Mount Badin-Powell for the second time. This included a 2500’ climb and descent, plus some rolling hills for a total of around 3000'. Additionally, the out and back meant that 17 miles of the course, instead of the usual 8.5, would be on pavement. I wasn't too happy about this, but remembered something I heard from the 2016 Western States Champion Andrew Miller. "Road miles are gimme miles." I channeled this and figured that while the road would be boring, it should be reasonably quick. 

Prior to the race, we checked into our Airbnb, had lunch with the Pasadena running crew, and went to bed early. On Saturday morning my alarm went off at 3, and we readied ourselves for a very long day.

 

Austin and I in Wrightwood, ready to go.

The race began on the roads of Wrightwood. I’d been told multiple times to take it very easy in the beginning, but my approach deviated from this advice somewhat. One of my occasional training partners in New Mexico, Michael Carilli, had finished an impressive 7th place at AC100 in 2019. He told me he went off the front for a bit, and that he was just having fun. I decided “just having fun” would be my strategy. I didn’t want to run when I felt like hiking, but I didn’t want to hike for the sake of hiking either. For that reason, I started a bit faster than nearly all of my friends.

I made it to Inspiration point (mile 9) and Vincent Gap (mile 13) ahead of schedule. On the descent into Vincent gap, about a mile before the aid station, I heard a bizarre animal sound. I looked over and saw a little bulldog happily panting away in the shade, but no owners, odd. Then on the way down the trail, two young dogs just wandering along. I told the aid station captain and he replied, “ah yes, we are aware and are on the case!” I found out later that the owners were indeed located. 

On the way up to Mount Badin-Powell (the first time we would summit this mountain) I took out my trekking poles and hiked along, still having a blast. Shortly after reaching the top, I passed a guy who said, “Keep floating man!”. I loved that mantra and thought about it for the remainder of the race—not pushing, just floating along. On the way down to the mile 25 aid station, I heard a familiar voice behind me. It was Austin! He’d started a bit conservatively but was beginning to pick up the pace. We were both way ahead of the pacing plan that he'd originally set, so I wasn't sure if he'd ever really catch up, but I knew that he was certainly fit enough to catch me (Austin had beaten me at every ultramarathon we'd previously run together). We ran together until just before the mile 25 aid station when I peeled off to use the bathroom. 

The next section was on the road except for one brief detour onto a short mountainous trail. This section was honestly significantly sketchier than I was expecting. I assumed that for such a large event, they’d have cones or barriers of some kind separating the runners from the sports cars and motorcycles zooming by at 60 miles per hour, but that was not the case! We ran on the shoulder of the road, and occasionally in the road when the shoulder was nonexistent. It was okay, but felt as though the race was taking somewhat of a risk by allowing so many runners on an open road like that. Ultrarunning has plenty of risks, so I wasn’t discouraged by any of this and don't blame the race at all, but found it surprising. 

Austin caught back up to me within a few miles of leaving the aid station. I was surprised because I didn't see him at the aid station and thought he'd left before me! He told me he was hoping to catch me because he didn't want to do the road section alone—I agreed. It was easy running, but boring and hot. We ran together for a while, and then hiked for a while up a hill with a French guy named Guillaume. We were also briefly joined by a young-looking guy named Roman who cracked a few jokes with us before slowly moving on ahead. He was a tall guy and had a bit of a lumbering stride, but we found out later that he’d consistently moved through the field all day and Finished 11th—a spectacular run!

After finishing the first road section and getting refreshments at mile 33, I headed down a connector trail to the next road section and turned right on the highway. Shortly thereafter, the woman behind me shouted, “hey I think we’re going the wrong way!” We took a look at her phone and sure enough, we’d turned the wrong way. Had I continued the way I was going, I would have looped around and returned to the aid station I’d just left. I thanked the woman, who I found out was named Ashley Hall, and we ran together back in the correct direction. At the junction where we missed the turn, we ran into Austin who’d left the aid station shortly after me and was about to make the same mistake. We all corrected ourselves and the three of us continued on down the road and chatted for a while. Two days later, Austin and I were examining the results and discovered that Ashley had won! She apparently had an epic second half of the race. 

While I was enjoying the chat with Austin and Ashley, a growing blister on my right little toe had decided enough was enough. I bid fairwell to my two friends and stopped beside the road to lance the blister. To do this, I did what I always do and pinched the skin between my fingernails and sawed it open. I’ve been told multiple times that I shouldn’t do that, but I’ve never had a problem, so until I get an infection I’m just going to keep doing it. After lancing the blister, the first few steps were excruciating. I wondered how I could continue like that, but within a quarter mile of shuffling the pain in my toe began to feel better. Several miles later I’d have to do the same thing with my left little toe. These little toe blisters have become somewhat of a chronic problem. I'm not sure how to remedy them. Toe socks? Half-size up in shoes? I taped the toes with moleskin from the start, which I'm sure helped somewhat, but still got the blisters eventually. Send me some advice folks! 

Later in this stretch, about a mile before the aid station, I had a sudden urge to use the bathroom. I weighed my options, deciding between a very uncomfortable shuffle to the next aid station or a trip into the bushes. I decided on the latter, and thankfully I’d come prepared with some toilet paper to handle the situation. I chuckled to myself thinking how well I felt in general despite this little four mile stretch being filled with a missed turn, a necessary stop for foot care, and a bathroom trip in the woods. 

Looking like a demon on the way up to Three Points (mile 37) aid station

I entered the mile 37 aid station just in time to see Austin leave. Here, I ate, drank, and did some foot care, but I made a critical blunder. I asked my crew to fill two bottles and put Gatorade powder in them. They didn’t realize that I meant the Gatorade powder that I had with me, and the aid station happened to have fruit punch flavored gatorade power with them, so she filled the bottles with that. Satisfied with the assumption that the two flavors of gatorade were similar enough that I should be alright, I left with the Fruit Punch in my soft flasks. Since it was getting hot, this meant I was drinking a lot of it, and my stomach wasn’t a fan. Due to nausea, I took a hiatus from from any calories until I reached the Chilao aid station at mile 44. I stocked up on food at this aid station, but still wasn’t feeling well. 

Nina joined me for the two 6.7 mile sections going to the turnaround and back. This, for me, was where things got pretty dark. The temperature was very high, my stomach was struggling, and the terrain was very challenging. This section was rocky in places and included some pretty steep and long climbs and descents. At the turnaround aid station I was desperately in need of icewater. I was also starting to have some heat-chills which is never a good sign. I told myself that I’d take as long as I needed before returning to the course. That ended up being around 17 minutes. 

Not feeling great at Shortcut (mile 51) Aid Station

The return to Chilao at mile 57 was similarly brutal. Fortunately, as I approached the aid station I felt a good sign—hunger. I was now craving the lemonade and snacks my crew had, and was able to take in a fair amount of calories at this aid station while the sun was setting. I also saw Austin just as he was leaving. Each time I saw him, I assumed I wouldn’t see him again, but I continued to catch the tail end of his aid station stops. 

Malire jumped in to pace me at mile 57 and we motored along in the dark. Malire was an excellent source of gossip at night and helped the time pass quickly. We made it through the mile 64 aid station and eventually to Cloudburst aid station on the road at mile 69. The moment I entered the aid station I heard someone shout, “vegan potato soup!” And I shouted back “That’s what I want!” It was amazing. 

Malire and I returned to the highway section of the course in the dark. On the downhill sections we were able to maintain a good pace of around 10 minutes/mile. Again, running on the side of the highway at night felt sketchy, but we stayed alert, prepared ourselves to move off the road if need be, and thankfully were never squashed. We nearly missed the brief trail offshoot on this section but thankfully caught it in time. 

On the highway in the dark

I made my way into the mile 77 aid station and readied myself to tackle the climb back up to Mount Badin-Powell in the middle of the night. At this aid station I was joined by Chris, an old running buddy from UCSB. Chris is a roadrunner by most standards, but a talented uphill guy as well, and I could tell he was ultra-curious, so it was fun to have him along. I think pacing here piqued his interest in the sport. We caught up on life, he told me some wild stories about his dating life, and we hauled ourselves to the top of Baden-Powell. As we climbed, we remained approximately even with folks around us. We were passed by a few people and we passed a few people. 

The sun rose just shortly after we crested Mount Badin-Powell at mile 81. At this point my brain started doing some weird things. I wouldn’t say anything was really an outright hallucination, but I would frequently mistake trees for people. Normally when this happens your brain corrects the mistake right away, but at this point, I would stare at the people for several seconds as I got closer, and the people wouldn’t return to being trees until I was 15 feet away. Nothing too crazy, but I could imagine how this effect would turn into full-blown hallucinations if I’d had to keep going for another day. 

As we began heading down to the bottom of Baden-Powell, something incredible happened. I realized that while my feet and ankles were sore, my quads and knees were incredibly intact. I increased to a good clip and eventually a solid run. We then realized that while my quads and knees were in good shape, most of the people in front of me weren’t able to say the same. Person after person in front of me began to appear and I passed 8 or 9 people on this descent including Austin, who I was totally sure was long gone. Moving up in the field came with a huge surge of energy, and on the way down, Chris and I decided we should get through the aid station as quickly as possible so we wouldn't spoil this jolt of energy. Since this stretch between aid stations was 12 miles long with 3000 feet of climbing, nobody else was going to do this so we made up more time on the people we just passed. We entered the aid station, ate a few things, never sat down and moved on toward the final aid station—inspiration point—mile 93. 

I continued to pass people on this stretch, but did need to sit and refuel for a few minutes before continuing. As we left, a group of three runners entered the aid station. Shortly thereafter, I became paranoid that we’d missed a turn and two of those runners caught up while we were figuring it out. I yo-yo-ed with these guys for the next couple miles, but eventually went ahead for good. I was passed by one woman however who we were unable to catch—she must've been flying.

As we got closer to the final descent we began to crunch some numbers. If I finished the final 5 miles in 80 minutes I could finish under 30 hours. Two miles later, 3 miles in 52 minutes, it was in the bag. 

Then we saw a sign that said the trailhead in Wrightwood was 2.7 miles away when we thought it would be only 2. This was a a blow. There was at least 1 additional mile in Wrightwood, so we now knew we needed to do at least 3.7 miles in 52 minutes. Fortunately, once we reached the descent, the same legs that I’d found on the way down Mount Badin-Powell returned. We were absolutely flying. I felt like I was on an ordinary trail run, despite having more than 100 miles on my legs at this point. We hit the roads in Wrightwood with 26 minutes until 11 AM. I passed a few more people on the road. To one of them, I said, “keep it up! 30 hours is in the bag!” And she replied, “maybe for you.” I found this puzzling, because it seemed obvious to me that the remaining paved section of the course would not possibly take long. 

Chris and I continued to plunge through town. While it felt like we were running 6:30 pace, my watch confirms it was more like 8:30. Markings in town were somewhat sparse and we were in a rush, so a few times we asked local Wrightwood residents if we were still going the right way. They confirmed. As I ran through town behind Chris who was pulling me along with his energy, I realized that there actually was a lot more running in town than I was expecting. “Maybe that woman won’t make it in under 30 hours,” I thought (she did). 

Chris and I bombed down the last hill in downtown Wrightwood before turning into an alley and going underneath the finishers arch. My final time was 29 hours and 46 minutes. I have never finished an ultra with that kind of energy. 

Chris and I after a strong finish in Wrightwood.

Not feeling so great after sitting for a few minutes!

At the finish, we waited for Austin, were faked out by an Austin doppelgänger, and chatted with a few other finishers. The RD’s, two older gentleman with a snarky but fun attitude, personally called everyone up to hand out belt buckles. It was amazing. Austin eventually finished and I gave him a big hug. I said goodbye to my amazing crew and sprawled out in the shade. Eventually we were headed back to Pasadena, sleeping in the cars, and taking naps at Austin’s place. Needless to say everyone, crew and pacers, were exhausted. 

I’m more than thrilled with the way this race went. While it wasn’t perfect, there’s no such thing as a 100 mile race without a few mistakes. I can say with certainty that I gave NEVER finished a race with that much energy. I’m still amazed that it’s possible to be struggling so much at mile 45, but energized and excited at mile 85. The lows in this race were low, and the highs were unbelievable. This finish gave me the confidence to know that if I can eat and drink well enough, I can run strong even late in a race like this. 

Despite being internationally known, this race was quirky and low-key. Volunteers were amazing and everybody was kind. I will say that because this race is so popular for LA area trail runners, it seemed that a lot of information was spread by word of mouth and came as a surprise by the time of the pre-race briefing. For anyone planning to travel to this race, I highly recommend making friends with someone in the area beforehand and letting them pass on the local gossip to you. 

Altogether, I had an incredible time. The Angeles Crest 100 was an opportunity to reconnect with friends, and a chance to practice perseverance and problem solving. It also proved to me that second winds like the one I had are possible, and I’ll be chasing that feeling in all ultras I attend going forward. I am incredibly grateful for so many people. First and foremost, Austin and his family for welcoming me back. Austin and I have raced together a few times now, and I know we will continue to do so. I'm also grateful to my crew, including Nina, Malire, and Linda, who must've been as exhausted as I was on Sunday morning. Nina and Malire are now seasoned crew members and I hope they'll be willing to help me out in the future, and I really hope I'll get a chance to help them out at one of their events in the future! I'm also really grateful to have had Chris at the end, who also got pretty much 0 sleep to help me out for this one. He brought an excitement and energy that absolutely played a roll in the strong finish I was able to have.

Crew and Pacers

Lastly, thanks to all of my friends and family for the palpable and distant support they always offer. I am so grateful for the support of everyone.

Epilogue (lol):

It turns out that traveling plus absolutely trashing your immune system by running 100 miles without sleeping is a recipe for getting sick! Within 12 hours of returning to New Mexico, I was sick with covid—my first time! It was brutal for a few days, but I'm now 5 days in and nearly fully recovered. I suspect I picked up the virus on the flight to LA (on Thursday night), but the virus didn't really take hold until I thrashed my immune system following the race. That's my best guess. Thanks to everybody in Socorro who offered to help me out while I quarantined at home! This includes a huge thank you to my wonderful girlfriend Marina, who has not only been incredibly kind in the support she's given me, but is also dealing with the illness for herself now (I'm so sorry!). Will be back to normal in no time!