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Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run 2000 Report: Andrew Wilkins

Here is my report of the AC 100 this past weekend:

It all started after the Phoenix National Trail 50 Miler in January, 2000.I 
could no longer fight off the urge to sign up for my first 100 miler. Having 
completed four 50*s I thought I was ready.  I convinced my wife that training 
for a hundred would not screw up our family life and sent off an entry form 
for the Vermont 100 seven months away.  

My training began. I ran the San Juan 50K in March and prepared for the Zane 
Grey Highline 50 mile in April. Disaster struck on April 15th.  After three 
consecutive 75 mile weeks my IT Band flared up and I was forced to drop out 
of Highline, Holcomb Valley, and, eventually, Vermont.  The injury just would 
not heal and I refused to give in until the last minute.  I finally succumbed 
to a doctors visit and physical therapy and by early July I was ready to 
resume training. I looked at the schedule and chose to sign up for Angeles 
Crest at the end of September.

My training began again and this time my body held together.  The big test 
was the three day Labor Day training camp at which we ran the entire AC course
over three days. After surviving that and then completing a Grand Canyon 
double crossing the following weekend I thought I was ready.  I began to 
taper.It felt good to rest. I was nervous, excited, and completely distracted 
from all else in life.

Race eve came and I arrived in Wrightwood late. I scrambled to get my drop 
bags on the truck and said a prayer to Buddha that they would actually arrive 
at the aid stations (they all did safely arrive thanks to the way-beyond-the-
call-of-duty-actions of the race committee.) At the medical check my pulse 
and blood pressure were both unusually high but my weight was just right. I 
went down to Victorville and got four hours of sleep. 4:30 AM came awfully 
fast.

The 5:00 AM start was euphoric. After the setbacks and the months of intense 
training I could finally run the race.  My first hundred...wow!  As I walked 
the first climb out of Wrightwood my mind raced with hopes and fears. I tried 
to remain controlled and focused.  I knew I was in for a long day. The arrival 
at the top of the climb was wonderful.  Coinciding with the first hint of 
light coming from the eastern sky I began the beautiful ridge run along the 
Pacific Crest Trail to the first aid station at Inspiration Point.  This 
section of the course was cool, breezy, and beautiful as the views spread out 
on both sides of the ridge.  At this stage in the race the runners were pretty 
close together and talking of all sorts of things from Hardrock to hardware 
(seriously) it was great!

The first aid station was a quick bottle refill and then it was on to the 
short section to Vincent Gap from which begins the major climb up to the 
highest point on the course, Mt. Baden-Powell (9,300 ft).

I enjoyed that climb. Walking every step from the parking lot to the summit I 
found myself getting into a comfortable rhythm and enjoying my surroundings. 
I ate plenty of solid food on this stretch and tried to stay up on my fluids.  
At this point I began thinking that the middle section of the race was going 
to be hot.

After the summit I enjoyed the long and steady downhill to the Islip Saddle 
aid station at 25 miles.  At this first medical check point I weighed in and 
met my wife and kids (who were crewing for me) for the first time.  I really 
began to get into the race at this point.

I had a yogurt with Granola on the steep short climb up to the top of 
Williamson and then hammered the downhill to Eagle*s Roost aid station where 
I picked up a third water bottle and began the hot traverse of Cooper Canyon.  
I was concerned about calories and fluids at this point and made an extreme 
effort to keep aware of what was going in and what was coming out.  It seems 
to me that it would be easy to forget about these things at this relatively 
early state in the race when your feeling good.

I walked into Cloudburst (Mile 38) and knew it was time to take a look at my 
feet. This was the first time in the race that I sat down in a chair while 
my crew changed my socks and cleaned off my feet (I would do this again at 
Chantry). There were no blisters yet but I could feel them coming.  I drank 
my first Coke here and ate a roast beef, avacado, and cream cheese burrito. 
It tasted really good!  It was off to Three Points on a meandering downhill 
section on which I hoped I could make some time.

Three Points (Mile 42) was a quick stop to fuel up before tackling the 
hottest part of the course (for me) the section from Three Points through 
Mt. Hillyer and onto Chilao where I would pick up my pacer.  The hot sections 
here seemed to be sapping alot of people.  I passed a couple runners who 
seemed to be having a little trouble but generally people were slogging 
through and making the best of the situation.  The Sulfur Springs Road took 
alot out of me and I was grateful for the outstanding course marking through 
the section the locals call *Bedrock* (I had gotten hopelessly lost here 
during the training weekend).

After Chilao things got better, the weather cooled a bit, my stomach settled, 
and the stretch to Shortcut Saddle seemed to go very fast.  While my quads 
were beginning to feel a little saucy, in general, I was in decent shape and 
I was pretty much on schedule.  From Shortcut I estimated that it would get 
dark for me somewhere on the way down from Newcomb Saddle.  Good thing I had 
a flashlight at Newcomb.

The downhill from Shortcut was a blur.  After saying goodbye to my crew 
(I would only see them one more time, at Chantry) I worked the downhill all 
the way to the concrete bridge.  I was slowing on the downhills due to my 
quad situation but I was still able to manage a decent uphill pace on the road 
to Newcomb Saddle.  The chicken teriyaki they were serving up there was 
downright orgasmic!  I*m sure that that stuff was still with me to fuel my 
climb up Mt. Wilson more than two hours later. 

My quads recovered a little on the descent into Chantry (Mile 75) but as it 
was my first experience running in the dark it seemed to take alot longer to 
get there than it did in the training run.

Chantry was like a NASCAR pit stop at night.  People were coming and going, 
flood lights were shining brightly, runners, pacers, and crews were strewn 
about the parking lot, food was cooking, music was blaring, and there was a 
general feeling of nervous excitement pervading the entire scene.

Here at Chantry I changed into a pair of lightweight road shoes, had a nasty 
blister on my right heel lanced, changed socks for the last time, ate three 
cups of chicken soup, drank my first cup of coffee, grabbed a third bottle 
for the climb up Mt. Wilson, and changed into a dry long sleeve shirt.

The nocturnal climb up Mt. Wilson was a bit scary.  My legs got wobbly, the 
shadows created by my flashlight beam looked like snakes and rats coming to 
get me, a few trees jumped out to bump me in the shoulder, and I seemed to be 
overcome with fatigue.  In short, I seemed to be feeling some sort of mental 
transformation.  After reaching the Toll Road, therefore, I decided to walk 
until I got my head back together. I didn*t want to get into Idlehour 
(Mile 83) in a state of delirium.  After about 15 minutes of downhill hiking 
I was ready to run again.  The soup and coffee at Idlehour tasted great. 
After an 8 minute stop I was ready to resume.

Surprisingly, the climb up to Sam Merrill seemed to go quickly. In fact, at 
this point in the race I seemed to enjoy the uphill sections more than the 
downhill sections.  I think because the quads were trashed and the darkness 
was scary, the slow pace of the uphills allowed me to get off into my own 
world more than the downhills.  Since I had to concentrate so intensely on 
the downs at this point the mental muscles seemed to be unraveling. With 
eleven miles to go from Sam Merrill (mile 89), however, I allowed myself to 
begin thinking about successfully finishing for the first time.

Sam Merrill to Millard (96 miles) has some serious technical downhills. 
Since it was night and I was very tired I was not at all in the mood for 
hammering this section.  This was a real mentally draining part of the race 
for me because while I could see the proverbial light at the end of the 
tunnel I could not push myself any more than I was.  When Millard finally 
emerged I was relieved and rejuvenated.

I left everything but one bottle at Millard and tried to hammer the last 
four miles to Johnson*s Field.  I left my pacer at this point and took the 
last miles on my own. When Jeff Hines and his pacer caught up to me a couple 
miles from the finish I latched onto them and together we finished quite 
strong. This section seemed to drift by as I began to comprehend the reality 
of completing my first 100 miler.

The finish line scene was surreal. About 20 people were scattered about. 
Some runners were there eating or waiting for friends to come in.  Crews 
were hovered around the radio tent checking runners* status.  The guys at 
the tables had burgers, soup, and chile. Some people slept.  

The feeling that overwhelmed me as the reality sank in was satisfied 
exhaustion. Everything hurt and for the first time all day I allowed myself 
to show it. Simultaneous pain and joy can be difficult to deal with. While I 
was tired I could not sleep, while I was happy I could not laugh.  It was 
like no other feeling in the world! I had run 100 miles! I was a finisher!

There are so many people to thank that I cannot list them all.  The Race 
Directors, the over 1,000 volunteers, my crew, my pacers, my family, my 
friends, all of them contributed to this accomplishment.  It really does 
take a village to run 100 miles.  

There is one person I wish to thank by name and that is the two-time AC 
100 winner Tom Nielsen. Among other things Tom put together the three day 
training weekend over Labor Day, shared his immense course knowledge with me 
and anyone else who would listen, allowed me to pick his brain for training 
tips and nutrition concerns, and all the while continued to be a classy, 
respectful, and thoughtful friend.  Furthermore, he is probably going to upset 
with me for saying all these great things about him because he is an 
incredibly humble man as well. The ultrarunning community is replete with 
wonderful giving individuals who represent the sport with class and dignity.  
In my opinion and in my experience, Tom Nielsen stands for all that is right 
with our sport. Thanks Tom, for helping me to the finish line!