Rio Del Lago 100M

Sept. 22-(23), 2007

Second (sort of) DNF (sort of)

Introduction

I've long prided myself on a lack of "DNF's" (did not finish). I did have one "sort of" DNF back in 2001 at the Quadruple Dipsea. I was quite sick (just a cold), plus it was pouring rain before I even left the house. Actually the latter was the one reason I went at all; I told myself I'd be a real wimp if I skipped a race because of rain. Given how sick I was, I figured I'd start and just see how it went. Well, it went ok for two laps, but going up the stairs the second time at the start of the third lap, I started to feel quite dizzy, and called it a day. We'll call that "half a DNF," since I really shouldn't have started in the first place.

Well, this year's Rio Del Lago 100 was pretty much in the same category. For several months I've been plagued with knee problems, which started in my left knee but lately has actually been almost equally a problem in both knees. I say "knee," but actually the place I felt (feel) pain is just above the knee, sort of (I imagine) where the hamstring connects to the bone. It's been quite painful on downhills, and somewhat painful at all times (when running; stationary or walking, it's just fine). I actually had a great race at the Skyline 50K back in August, with a time ten minutes faster than 2006, but sometime after that my log starts to note significant pain in my left knee. In early September I got through my own Stevens Creek 50K ok, without too much pain, but significant quantities of ibuprofen were involved.

The pain had another effect - cutting down on my training. After American River 50 in April, I didn't do another 30-mile training run until July, and then the Skyline 50K and Stevens Creek 50K were my only other really long runs for months (there were even only five other 15-20 milers in that period). Really insufficient training for a 100-mile race. But...because I hadn't gotten into Western States, I had been planning on doing Rio Del Lago as my "season-ending" race. Because of my physical problems, and because RDL is one of the few races with almost no financial penalty for late entry, I had put off entering the race, and I went back and forth in my mind, knowing I had a physical problem and wasn't really training for the race.

In the weeks before the race, I took two steps forward. First, I ordered a variety of knee braces - one below-the-knee "ChoPat" strap (primarily for ITB problems, which wasn't really my problem), one above and below the knee dual strap, and one over the knee pad with a hole in the knee. At the same time, I thought a softer landing might help, so I went out and bought two new pairs of shoes - Mizuno Wave Rider 9 and 10. I had recently taken to wearing the Wave Rider 8 on trail runs (including the Stevens Creek 50K), and thought that a lighter, softer shoe like this would be good.

On the Wednesday before the race, I went out to a nearby hill and tried some uphill and downhill running which each of the three braces (and no brace) and each of the new shoes (yes, that was their total break-in period - less than a mile total). Well, the downhills didn't hurt too much, even with no brace, so I decided to go for it and, as with the Quad Dipsea in 2001, just "see what happens." An added incentive was that cool temperatures were predicted for the weekend, for a race which has had some brutal heat in past years. That night I called up race director Norm Klein to verify (as I had been told) that I could actually enter the race on Friday, the day before the race. Actually that was only "sort of" true, since he was entering information into the computer that night, but he took my information over the phone and I was committed. Debi had already scheduled a meeting for Friday night, and would have to come up Saturday to meet me, so I quickly found a ride up on Friday with Tom Kaisersatt, and began assembling my gear. On Friday up we went, arriving so early that we helped setup the race registration, then sitting through a race briefing in which we received a stern lecture from Norm about quitting. He wouldn't let anyone quit because they were just tired or worn out, he said, only if they were injured. Hmmm....

The Race

Race morning there was another race briefing, repeating much of what had been said yesterday, and then at 6 a.m., before first light, it was time to head out, tiny (Photon) light in hand to light the way over the first few miles. I was starting without a knee brace. Wearing brand new shoes – no problem. But the thought of running 100 miles with something around my knee, and the possibility of chafing that might cause, was too scary. I was saving it for when I really needed it.

Race briefing (click on any picture to enlarge)

In races I only know one speed, which is all out. Not all out like I'd be running a 100-yard dash, obviously, but all out in the sense that I want to push as hard as I "can" for the entire race. "Saving it" isn't my style, so in the first rolling miles (the whole course is pretty much rolling except for the handful of major hills), when everyone else walks the uphills, I run. I reached the first aid station, Twin Rocks (4.15M), at 43:51, 10:34/mile pace. Obviously much too fast, but this kind of thing doesn't worry me in the least. First of all, despite the precision of the alleged distance, I never trust race measurements, and for all I know the aid station has been relocated since the course was measured, and it's really, say, 3.8M and 11:32 pace (not that my brain can do any of these calculations while running - full statistics are found at the bottom of this report). And second of all, I was running "within myself," and that's really all that matters. Two pre-race ibuprofen mean I hadn't noticed my knees yet.

7:12 a.m., between Twin Rocks and Horseshoe Bar

7:25 a.m., between Twin Rocks and Horseshoe Bar, following Yo-Yo Man, Roger Jensen

I had taken note of the fact that the second aid station, Horseshoe Bar, is almost exactly at 10 miles, so when I hit there in just over two hours, I could calculate that I was on a 12 min/mile pace, which is a perfectly comfortable pace for me over long distances, so I was feeling good about that. One of the reasons I wanted to do this race is because it's one of the few 100's that I have a reasonable chance at finishing under 24 hours. 24 hours is 14:24 pace, so being on a 12:00 pace through 10 miles means that's a reasonable target. If I can last. And, given my preparation and my knees, that's a big "if."

8:52 a.m., approaching Power Plant

The course continues past beautiful riverside scenery, one of the big reasons I'm doing this race, and passes through Rattlesnake Bar, the Power Plant (a self-service aid station with just water), and then up the first big hill ("Cardiac") to Maidu. I probably would have pushed harder up the hill and regretted it later, but I was caught in a small group and went with the "run the few mild sections, walk the rest" approach that the lead runner in the group adopted. From the top the course goes along a pretty canal until a block or so from the Auburn Dam Overlook, adjacent to the finish of the American River 50 race. My time into the aid station, 22.7 miles into the race, is 4:35 - 12:06/mile pace, and I was still feeling strong and well within myself.

This is the first aid station where I had a drop bag, which I was mostly using to resupply myself with GU since gels aren't available at the aid stations (an idiosyncracy of the race director). I did have spare shoes, in case something went wrong, and one of my knee braces (I'm carrying another in my fanny pack), but so far those weren't needed. The weather was turning a bit chilly, however, so I did pick up a windbreaker I have stashed there. I'd spent four minutes in the aid station, much longer than I like to, but it was also the first aid station where my wife Debi showed up, having driven up from home that morning, so I couldn't leave too quickly!

From the Dam Overlook the route descends down into the American River Canyon, across No Hands Bridge, and then up the second major hill ("K-2") to the Cool Fire Station. The downhill to the river was really painful on my knee, and perhaps I should have put on my knee brace, but I didn't. My pace on the descent to No Hands, 14:17 despite the fact that it's all downhill, really reflects how much I was hurting - it's significantly slower than my pace on any section so far, even on the section which included the Cardiac uphill. No doubt I lost ten minutes or more here, but when I got to the No Hands aid station (after passing a whole bunch of the 52-mile runners, who turn around at No Hands and are on their way back), I was told I was 28th overall, which is certainly a nice position to be in. If I could hold it. Big if.

K-2 is a steep hill, but no steeper than routes like Powerline at Rancho San Antonio that I run every week in training. I walked the steepest parts, and ran the rest, gradually pulling away from two people who had caught up with me near the bottom. By the time I came into Cool Fire Station, just short of 12:30, there was no one on my tail. Analyzing the results later, my pace on this uphill section was faster than it was on the downhill section to No Hands!

12:24 p.m., coming into Cool Fire Station

Another quick hello to Debi (who took the pictures above and all the ones I appear in), and I was off on the Olmstead loop. Shortly after leaving I passed the 50K point, with an interpolated time of 6:38:50. I was starting to flag, and Gordy Ainsleigh passed me at one point, the first person in probably 25 miles to do so. I soon passed him back when he stopped to cool off in a creek, though. The final 1.5 miles back to Cool are on a paved road, and I was definitely tiring a bit, but I resisted the urge to walk, and pushed on. I had a smile on my face as I return to Cool (below), but you can credit the sight of Debi for that; my paces (and my downturned head in the picture below left) show that I was clearly starting to drag.

1:54 p.m., returning to Cool Fire Station with Gordy Ainsleigh on my heels

Downhill back to No Hands Bridge was definitely painful on my knee, but I still, perhaps foolishly, hadn't put on one of my braces. I had taken a few (probably 4) Iboprofen up to this point, which may or may not have been doing anything to alleviate the pain. The uphill back to Auburn Dam Overlook was slow going, and painful to boot, and although I arrived again looking chipper, it's a bit of a front.

3:47 p.m., entering Auburn Dam Overlook

Leaving the aid station I had fresh supplies but unfortunately not fresh legs. I jogged down the canal to Maidu, with a painful moment when I had to negotiate a large step over an access to the canal. Lifting my knees up a high step (maybe a foot) really hurt, as did the descent of Cardiac after I left the aid station. Heading out to the Power Plant and then to Rattlesnake Bar is a beautiful section of trail, but my running was slowing. A handful of people passed me in here for the first time, Gordy being one of them. Gordy let me know we were on 24-hour pace, which I knew, but I also knew it wouldn't be happening for me today (nor, as it turned it, for him). By the time I reached Rattlesnake Bar, my pace had slowed dramatically (to nearly 17 minutes/mile), and Debi was worried about me because I was far behind the time she was expecting me, after being more or less "on target" up until this point. Well, it was going to get worse.

6:16 p.m., Gordy approaches Rattlesnake Bar; 6:24 p.m., SLP follows in the waning light

6:25 p.m., Rattlesnake Bar, not much left in the tank

I wasn't completely done after Rattlesnake Bar, but close enough. My first problem was that the course marking was poor, and for the longest time after leaving the aid station I wasn't even sure I was on the right track, which isn't a good feeling. Finally along came Buddy Pohl pacing Michael Kanning, which was reassuring, and the finally a ribbon, but my deteriorating physical situation was definitely reflected in the bad mental attitude. Sometime later, I arrived at another intersection where for the life of me I couldn't figure out which way to go. After several minutes some other runners came along, and they searched up and down the various paths, until finally, after having wasted five minutes or more, someone spotted a ribbon and off we went.

It was quite dark by this time, and unfortunately, this section is a very bad one to run in the dark, because there are lots of rock "steps" which require good visibility, and I was not about to risk tripping and smashing my knee or head, so this section was sort of a run-walk section of necessity. I was certainly still running the "easy" sections, but getting more and more unhappy. By Twin Rocks, with 4 miles to go, I had pretty much decided to pack it in, and to walk to the Cavitt School which is the start, finish, and 67-mile aid station. Far too tempting for me on this day. My knees were really starting to hurt, and I knew I could just keep taking Ibuprofen to mask the pain, but at the risk not only of doing serious damage to my knees, but also to my stomach. Why do that? Plus I was really done in by my undertraining, and there wasn't any more running left in my legs. I knew I could easily walk the last 33 miles within the time limit, but to prove what, and to whom? I've done that before (walking the last 55 miles of my first 100, Western States in 2002, due to another knee injury, ITB that time). So it's not like I'd be finishing my first 100, or that I'd be recording any kind of 100-mile PR. In short, there was every reason to stop, and pretty much no reason to go on.

I stopped. Of course I didn't tell Norm I was stopping because I was exhausted. No, I only told him the other part of the story, which is that my knees were injured and I didn't want to risk more damage. That was true, but the full truth is that if it were only for my knees, I would have gone on. It was only really because I didn't have any more good miles in me that I decided to stop. As noted in the title, a half a DNF, because really it should have been a DNS, or really a DNE (Did Not Enter).

Aftermath

I gathered my strength with some soup, gathered up Debi, and we went off to check back into the same motel I had checked out of early that morning (we weren't about to start a drive back to Cupertino at 11:00 at night). The next morning we woke at leisure, had a nice (and, for me, large) breakfast, went back to the School to gather up my aid station bags (and to see some of the final finishers), and left before the post-race banquet (I couldn't face it).

It was fun, and enjoyable to do the parts of the course I did. It's too bad I didn't finish, but hardly surprising; as I said at the very beginning, I really had no business starting. But it was a nice 67 mile training run.

Unfortunately, that 67 miles of training would pretty much go to waste as far as any future races go. In the days after the race, my knees were really hurting. If I squatted down, I literally could not stand up without using my hands. I'm writing this a full month after the race, and I haven't run since. I've been walking 3 or 4 times a week, 4-6 miles, and I'm actually surprising myself with how fast I can walk (12:15/mile on a 3-mile flat city street loop, and even 13:05/mile on a 6-mile hilly trail loop. So I'm trying to keep in shape, and expect to start running again fairly soon, as the knees are getting much better (but still not totally pain free, particularly going up stairs). Did the race accelerate the problem? Almost certainly yes. Do I regret it? No (but I sure would if the damage were permanent!). Anyway, that's where things stand.

The Data

Want to send feedback on this report? Click here.

Return to Steve Patt's Race Page