Is it because of the two recent best selling books about ultrarunning?  I can’t count how many people have asked me if I’ve read Born To Run - NO, I haven’t read it yet.

Are the entry requirements too easy?  11 hours for a 50 miler whether it is in the mountains or on the flat roads?  I bet KRW could walk 50 miles in 11 hours.

Is it because the two-time defending champion is just so good looking that people just want to be near him?

Is it because of the 2009 WS Synchroblog Project and all the attention it drew to the race?

Is it because people don’t realize that the two-time loser rule has been discontinued?  I know of at least one guy that just took his name out of the bucket yesterday when I told him it ended in 2008.  If there is anybody out there that thinks there is still a two-time lottery loser rule - WAKE UP - there isn’t.

Is it because the entry procedures were too easy?  No credit card, no proof of qualifications, no checking a box that you understand the requirements?   Any tire-kicker could put his or her name in the bucket without ever intending on paying the $307.  I know of at least one of the 72 Oregonians on the list that doesn’t have a qualifier (BTW, that is the most from any state save California).  Wonder how many folks will get selected in the lottery and then not register?  Should there be some sort of penalty if you get selected and then not register?  Maybe a ban from entering the lottery the next year?

What do you think?

When I suggested this topic to Mr. Balls, he turned it around and offered it as a guest blog.  I think when you’re desperate enough for a topic to confront the ways in which your wife loves you, you’ve started to hit bottom.  My guess is until the lottery, or at least until he knows he’s in, we’re not going to have too many blogs about his obsession.

Skinny Little Fart

So, the topic of the day is best songs for running.  I know the USATF wouldn’t approve of the subject, but let’s go for it anyway.  I’m one of those guys who runs by myself frequently and always listens to music when solo.  Oh, I know what I’m missing: the song of the wind, the mighty percussion of the crickets, the battering of the woodpeckers, and the yawn of the mighty puma as I pass by.  I’m sorry, but I love music.

So, I’m offering my five favorites in order.  I don’t think we want the blog responses (please let there be responses) listing every song that someone listened to from Foresthill to Auburn.  Please, no more than your top five.  Here are mine:

1. LA Woman by the Doors.  The beat is exactly right for my running. And it’s over 7 minutes long.  Fantastic.
2. Can’t Stop Running by Todd Rundgren.  Huge Todd fan here, and well, we can’t stop running can we?
3. Tremble For My Beloved by Collective Soul.
4. Are You Gonna Go My Way by Lenny Kravitz.
5. The Call of the Ktula by Metallica (The version off the S & M disc (they played with the San Francisco Symphony.  Oh, and yes, I was at that concert).

10. You put a Shakespeare quote on your race shirts - Lord, what fools these mortals be!

9. You don’t think Granite St is a hill.

8. You own a house with an elevator.

7. You can pet two cougars anytime you want.

6. You drink beer at a place called the Ultralounge.

5. You don’t have health insurance (oooh, so insensitive).

4. You made your money in California or you’re a trustafarian.

3. Your ultra is an SOB.

2. You know to bring Truffaldino Elvis sandwiches.

1. You run really fast.

What did I miss?

Skaggs at Where's Waldo

Erik Skaggs - Medical Expenses

Whatever your position or thoughts are on the current national healthcare debate, one of our own still needs help.  You may recall that Erik Skaggs smashed the course record at Where’s Waldo this year and ran himself right into the hospital with acute renal failure.  His kidneys started functioning again after a couple of weeks, and similar to the ending of Strange Brew, he shed 35 pounds of fluid!  Not sure if he was able to help put out any fires, though, like Bob McKenzie.  Erik’s doing better, and despite getting some coverage from USATF, the medical expenses for the uninsured 27-year-old are substantial.  The folks at Rogue Valley Runners and Southern Oregon Runners have organized a benefit run and raffle for Erik on October 24 in Ashland.  The Birds of a Feather 2 mile and 5 mile races have no set entry fee so you can donate what you wish.  The last day to mail in your entry is Friday.  After that you’ll have to do so in person at Rogue Valley Runners.  In addition to the run there is an accompanying raffle. See the RVR blog for more info and an application.  See you there.

Dave looking sharp

Dave Terry - Memorial Rock

With the unexpected passing of ten-time WS finisher, ten-time Wasatch finisher, and mentor to many ultrarunners in the Pacific Northwest, Dave Terry, friends of his are trying to secure funds to create a memorial rock to be placed in Forest Park in Portland.  The total raised so far is a paltry $500.  In the words of his friend Steve Smucker:

“For those wanting to make a donation in Dave’s name, we have set up an account at the Forest Park Conservancy, which maintains Portland’s Forest Park, which houses Dave’s favorite place to run, the Wildwood Trail. We will be placing a plaque on a rock on the trail in Dave’s memory. Contributions of all sizes, even $25 to $50, are much appreciated. It will be so nice to have a rock memorial in a location where so many runners will be able to see it. Thank you.

http://www.forestparkconservancy.org/support

The Forest Park Conservancy is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization.
Tax ID number: 94-3103055.”

Pierre at Where's Waldo

Nathan Blair - Edurelief

Not sure what you were doing at 24 years old, or maybe you’re not even there yet, but I sure wasn’t thinking about needy kids in Mongolia.  I was just out of grad school and starting my new first “real” job as a nerd in Arizona.  Not so with my friend Nathan K. Blair, a.k.a. Pierre, who has been training with us in Eugene going on two years now.  Pierre, who paced me at Western States this year, thought of combining his new found love of ultrarunning with his desire to help impoverished kids get an education through an organization called Edurelief.  So, he got pledges to earn money if he completed his goal of Way Too Cool 50k, PCT 50 miler, Where’s Waldo 100k, and then Hundred in the Hood 100miler.  He finished each in fine style and with a great attitude. I originally pledged to give him $100 but then John Ticer came along and pledged a dollar a mile so I’m now having to cough up 243 bucks.  Here’s to you, Nathan.  What a great example for the rest of us.

LAGOS, NIGERIA.

ATTENTION: GOOD AND HONORABLE CRAIG THORNLEY

DEAR SIR,

CONFIDENTIAL BUSINESS PROPOSAL

HAVING CONSULTED WITH MY COLLEAGUES AND BASED ON THE INFORMATION GATHERED FROM THE NIGERIAN CHAMBERS OF COMMERCE AND INDUSTRY, I HAVE THE PRIVILEGE TO REQUEST FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE TO TRANSFER MY ENTRY INTO THE 2010 WESTERN STATES ENDURANCE RUN INTO YOUR POSSESSION. THE ABOVE ENTRY RESULTED FROM AN ARRANGEMENT EXECUTED COMMISSIONED AND PAID FOR ABOUT FIVE YEARS (5) AGO BY A FOREIGN CONTRACTOR NAMED THE HONORABLE MR TIM TWEETMIER. THIS ACTION WAS HOWEVER INTENTIONAL AND SINCE THEN THE ENTRY HAS BEEN IN A SUSPENSE ACCOUNT AT AN ACCOUNT AT ULTRASIGNUP DUE TO ONGOING CIVIL WAR.

WE ARE NOW READY TO TRANSFER THE ENTRY OVERSEAS AND THAT IS WHERE YOU COME IN. IT IS IMPORTANT TO INFORM YOU THAT AS CIVIL SERVANTS, WE ARE FORBIDDEN TO ENTER THIS EVENT; THAT IS WHY WE REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE. THE TOTAL SUM FOR OUR ARRANGEMENT WITH HONORABLE MR TWEETMIER WILL BE SHARED AS FOLLOWS: FOREIGN ENTRY FEE FOR US, ENTRY FOR YOU AND PAYMENT FOR LOCAL AND INTERNATIONAL EXPENSES INCIDENT TO THE TRANSFER. OUR ENTRY FEE FOR YOU TO REIMBURSE FOR A SPOT IN THE 2010 WESTERN STATES IS ONLY $2,000 (TWO THOUSAND) USD.

THE TRANSFER IS RISK FREE ON BOTH SIDES. I AM AN ACCOUNTANT WITH THE NIGERIAN NATIONAL PETROLEUM CORPORATION (NNPC). IF YOU FIND THIS PROPOSAL ACCEPTABLE, WE SHALL REQUIRE THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS:

(A) YOUR BANKER’S NAME, TELEPHONE, ACCOUNT AND FAX NUMBERS.

(B) YOUR PRIVATE TELEPHONE AND FAX NUMBERS — FOR CONFIDENTIALITY AND EASY COMMUNICATION.

(C) YOUR LETTER-HEADED PAPER STAMPED AND SIGNED.

ALTERNATIVELY WE WILL FURNISH YOU WITH THE TEXT OF WHAT TO TYPE INTO YOUR LETTER-HEADED PAPER, ALONG WITH A BREAKDOWN EXPLAINING, COMPREHENSIVELY WHAT WE REQUIRE OF YOU. THE BUSINESS WILL TAKE US THIRTY (30) WORKING DAYS TO ACCOMPLISH.

PLEASE REPLY URGENTLY.

BEST REGARDS

I’m not a parent so maybe I didn’t handle the situation the best way, but I was reminded of this incident yesterday as I got into a discussion on AJW’s blog. The topic was about the sub-100 mile ultra performance of the year and somehow morphed into this discussion about respecting your fellow competitors and the race and whether quitting because you’re not running up to your expectations is disrespectful of both. The comments from one of the top 100 mile runners in the country surprised me. He said, “i can certainly see pushing through a bad race out of regard and respect and appreciation for other people who have helped you get to where you’re at. but i think the idea of owing it to other people to finish is a bit dramatic… and a bit greedy and pretentious for those who feel that this is owed to them.”

With that I’m going to site one of my favorite sportsmanship/competition speeches.  I’ve referenced Jeff Johnson’s speech to the 2001 Borderclash runners before on this blog. If you don’t know, the Borderclash is an annual 5K race between the best high school cross country runners from the states of Washington and Oregon. Jeff begins his speech by asking “Why do you run?” and then continues:

So here’s another question for you: Why do you compete? Why do you race 3.1 miles? That’s gotta hurt. Why do you do it?

For most of you, I imagine that you race for the challenge, the danger, the ‘rush’ of putting yourself in a place where you must do your absolute best. Because the race requires it. To give your best is to honor your fellow competitors, your teammates, your coach, your school, your family, your community, and all the good people who have worked so hard to put on the race. To give your best in a race is a matter of honor, and duty, and you know that going in. You know, also, that the course will challenge you, that your competitors will challenge you, and that you will challenge yourself. You know, too, that there will come a critical moment in the race where you must make the decision to lay it on the line, to take your shot, or to fall back and regroup. And you hope you’ll be up to the challenge, but you’re never entirely sure, and it’s that uncertainty that calls to you, because it is there, at that moment, that moment of decision, that you offer yourself up to be measured: by the clock, by your legs and lungs, by your guts, and by your heart. And if you want to win the race, in that moment of decision, you’re going to have to go a little crazy.

You race, then, because races are a big deal. (In fact, speaking from the vantage point of both experience and hindsight, I dare say that at this time in your lives, the race may be the most important thing that you do. A girl on one of my high school teams came up to me on the day of her graduation and said, ” I learned more in cross country, than I learned in high school.” “I’m glad,” I said, “so did I”.

Races are a big deal. Races are the culmination of all the forces that have brought you here: desire, commitment, focus, sacrifice, suffering, self-discipline, hard work, responsibility. You race because you are invested in effort, and you are invested in success. Moreover, you are invested together.

Look around you. Go ahead. Do it. Look around.

Who are those people you see? Do you think they are your opponents? People who oppose your quest for excellence? Well, they aren’t. They are not your opponents. They are your fellow competitors. In fact, they are your co-conspirators, for to compete is to enter into a conspiracy. The conspiracy is revealed in the word itself: compete, which comes from two Latin roots, com (CUM) and petere (PET-ER-AH), which mean “to strive together”.

Al Oerter, the 4-time Olympic gold medallist in the discus, once said: “I’ve never competed against anyone in my life. I’ve always competed with people. To compete against people is a negative thing. To compete with people is a celebration, a celebration of human capability.”

And so it is. The worthy competitor is essential to the race, not as an enemy, but as a co-conspirator. The race, you see, is a secret form of cooperation. The race is simply each of you seeking your absolute best with the help of each other.

Steve Prefontaine said: “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.” What gift do you think he was talking about? The gift of your talent, surely. But perhaps also the gift of opportunity, and the gift of youth, perhaps even the gift of life itself.

In any case, you give your best to the race as a matter of honor. You can do no less, because your competitors are giving their best to you. Now, not all races justify all out, total effort. For some races, you have lesser goals - - to score points for your team, to qualify for a more important race later on - - or just to have fun.

I don’t live in a black and white world and I realize there could be lots of reasons to DNF in a race. I’m not at all suggesting that DNFs are immoral as was asked on the AJW thread by a different top 100-mile runner in the nation. I’ve have several myself in the marathon, 50K, and 50 mile distances. But, if you’re out there in a race with me, know that I feel a responsibility to honor the race, the volunteers, my fellow competitors, and maybe most importantly, myself - to give an honest effort. Do I project that onto others? Yeah, I probably do. Does that make me dramatic, greedy and pretentious? You tell me.

Craig’s note: While this report was written some time ago, I thought it would be fun to post this at the start of the 2010 Western States 100 entry period.  Go to ultrasignup between Oct 1 and Oct 15 to put your name in the GU2O bucket for the drawing on Dec 5. Enjoy lc’s 2009 WS race report.

Nervous was the only way you could describe me in 2007 before I took my first run at the Western States 100. This time around, I wasn’t nervous — at least not at first.

If my goal in 2007 had been to accomplish something special, I was aiming for normalcy this time around. During the crucial two weeks leading into the race, I tried to stay calm, sleep as much as possible and not do anything stupid. Don’t do anything extreme, I told myself, don’t decide you need to satisfy some weird craving, don’t decide to go for a run at midnight the night before the race.

For the most part, my plan seemed to be working. I was calm and even slept some the night before, which never happens. The only problem was that not being nervous was starting to make me nervous. Shouldn’t I be more keyed up for this race?

Race morning came soon enough. Before I knew it, I was kissing my wife goodbye and slapping hands with everybody I knew at the starting line.

“Whatever you do, don’t go backwards” Thornley said helpfully, referring to my disastrous run at Leadville the year before, which ended with me walking backwards on the course so I could DNF 40 miles from the finish.

Despite getting lost at WS in ’07, the factor I was most worried about in ‘09 was my stomach, which had caved in on me during a training run just two weeks before. My plan was to eat small bites of solid foods — turkey/avocado sliders, pork and beans & pbj — for as long as possible, then switch to gels, and then go to Coke and chicken broth if things got really rough.

Those early miles went down easy. I ran a bit with Tapeworm, got passed by Bev and wondered why LB, Bili, GM, WT and Monkeyboy were all behind me? Was I running too fast? Would I pay for this later? I didn’t think so. My stomach was solid, I wasn’t feeling the altitude the way I had in ‘07 and I felt well-rested. I was determined to run my own even-keeled race. Hopefully, it would lead me to a 20-hour finish.

Lewis coming into Duncan Canyon (photo by Glen Tachiyama)

“Your destiny is in your own hands,” Erik Skaden said, running past me somewhere near the Escarpment..

I ran conservatively during the early miles, but my splits were still 15-20 minutes ahead of schedule. I wasn’t eating a lot, but that was part of the plan. Don’t overwhelm the stomach. Eat and drink slowly and survive the first 62 miles.

At Duncan Canyon, I choked down some PBJ, courtesy of my father-in-law, Brent, and for the first time I felt the heat. We were lucky to have gotten several hours of cool running in the morning, but now the furnace was on.

By the time I reached Robinson Flat, I had been passed by at least a dozen runners including Thornley, Victor Ballesteros, Krissy Moehl, and Monkeyboy, which actually made me feel better, since my goal had been to run slower than I was. If I had learned anything during my first two attempts at 100 miles it was that “running by feel” was a bad idea early on in a 100 miler.

I passed in and out of Robinson Flat fairly quickly. On the way out, I saw Ticer and took the opportunity to remind myself to be tough. From that point on, I took every opportunity there was to douse. I was filling the bandana with ice at every aid station that had it. I saw Brent again at Dusty Corners, where I made my longest stop yet. I left the aid station drenched, along with Alan Abbs. Together we took the turnoff to Pucker Point, but weren’t able to run together for long.

I traded places with Alan and Graham Cooper a few times in this section, struggling to keep moving through the heat. At Last Chance, I repeated my dousing routine, and on the way to Deadwood Canyon, I got passed by a few runners. On the steep descent to the Swinging Bridge, I made decent time and regained a couple of spots.

The hike up started too soon and I could feel myself fighting to maintain a decent walk. “This is not a training run,” I reminded myself, frustrated by my inability to run. “This is race day!” I managed to jog a few steps here and there, but I was not setting any speed records going up the Thumb. I reached Bili about a quarter of the way up. He was listening to country western tunes on a portable iPod speaker clipped to his shorts, which amused me greatly. We exchanged encouraging words and kept scratching our way up.

The aid station at the top was the usual scene of carnage. I tried not to look at the runners sitting in chairs. I doused with a bucket that contained a frozen block of ice (so nice!) and grabbed a lime Popsicle. I ate three bites way too quickly and two minutes later found myself throwing up on the side of the trail.

Staggering in the heat, I wondered whether this was going to be the start of my usual sour stomach routine. I ate two squirts of gel, put myself back together and started running. By the time I got to the bottom of Eldorado, it was insanely hot, but I was thrilled that my stomach appeared to be holding. I packed as much ice as possible into my bandana and hat and headed out.

Lewis in Michigan Bluff (photo by Kurt Bertilson - AuburnEvents.com)

Compared to the Thumb, the climb to Michigan Bluff was less of a grind (I think it was the ice). Still, I came into the aid station just as cooked as everyone else. My crew pulled me aside, gave me a couple sips of Coke, some broth, an ice massage and plenty of dousing, which brought me back to life.

I headed down the road toward Volcano Canyon, getting some good encouragement from my pacer Christian Beck and Running Times writer Adam Chase. I passed the point where I got lost in 2007 and felt a sense of relief. I let out a yell to get myself psyched for the descent into Volcano Canyon.

At the bottom of the canyon I submerged my whole body in the creek, then slogged my way up to Bath Road where I found my sister waiting for me with a can of soda and two bottles of ice water. We walked the uphill and she continued to build up my self-esteem, telling me how much better I looked than in ’07.

At Foresthill, I felt happy to be around so many friends and family members I almost didn’t want to leave. I got a serious dousing from the aid station, then got another one from my crew. I kissed Alice and Rebecca, grabbed some new gear and headed down toward Cal Street with my brother-in-law/pacer Duff .

I was feeling pretty well revived at this point. It was great talking to Duff, which helped take my mind off the miles ahead. I had been telling myself that the river crossing was essentially the half-way point in terms of effort. I’m not sure if this helped or hurt me mentally. It sure made the Cal Street section feel longer.

As we reached the 6-minute hill, my pacer wordlessly took the lead. At first I wondered what he was doing since we had agreed that I would be leading, but it proved to be a good move as we reached the end of the terrible uphill a few minutes sooner than we would have with me in command.

I was passed by Karl Hoagland somewhere between Cal 3 and the river. He had been haunting me since Cal 1 and once he passed me I would never see him again.

At the river crossing it was a very different story than 2007 when I had stupidly stopped for a massage and earned myself the honor of the 278^th fastest split between RC Near and RC Far aid stations.

We picked up Leah and Christian on the other side of the river and began the slow hike to Green Gate. Christian suggested we try to catch Thornley, who was some 10 minutes ahead of me. Knowing how strong Thornley could be in those closing miles, I dismissed the idea.

But Christian had planted the seed in my head.

Several minutes later, Christian asked me whether I wanted to continue our slow trudge up the hill or whether I wanted to try doing some running.

“Let’s keep walking,” I said, every bit the true champion.

“Do you think Thornley would be walking this section?” Christian asked innocently.

I started running — how could you not after a question like that? — and started laying the groundwork for a recovery.

After switching from trail runners into road shoes, I left Green Gate, dreading the section ahead. My split to ALT was slower than I had projected, but I was slowly starting to come alive. I had a scare when my weight came up 7 pounds light at the aid station, but I suspected an inaccurate scale.

The more I ran, the easier it became for me to eat and drink. Christian encouraged me to take more gel since I was now eating a third of a gel every 20 minutes. Switching to full gels made a big difference. I could feel the energy returning to my body. I wanted to run.

At Brown’s Bar I rolled in anticipating the usual drunken scene. It didn’t help that there was hasher flour on the trail leading into the station. Prepared to avoid any problems by going on the offensive, I arrived and immediately announced:

“All right you f-cking drunks. I need two bottles of ice water.”

A not-so-amused (and completely sober) man gestured toward a 12-year-old boy and told me the young man would take care of me. I felt awful, but the damage had been done.

Christian found out that Thornley was just a few minutes ahead and we barreled out of the aid station down the steep downhill leading to the river bed. Somewhere near the bottom, we ran into Thornley and his brother, Chris.

“Hey old man, want to race to Auburn?” I asked him, not knowing how he would respond.

LB laughed, wished me well and told me to go after a sub-20 hour finish. Christian had already proposed that idea, but I was highly skeptical. By my calculations, we were about 10-15 minutes off.

On the way to Highway 49 we passed Tapeworm who was stumbling around and having a bad time. I remember saying something encouraging, but we could tell whatever trouble he was in wasn’t going to be easy to fix.

I knew the split from the bottom of the river bed to Hwy 49 and I could tell we were making good – not great – time. At the aid station I had regained the eight pounds I had supposedly lost (damn scales!). I was starting to get excited about trying to break 20 hours and I was able to run some of the Way Too Cool climb up to the meadow.

On our way to No Hands, I had to jump over a rat and we were getting so close I was starting to get paranoid about going off course. It took forever to arrive at the steep decline into No Hands and I was beginning to give up on the whole sub 20-hour thing. I made the last second decision to skip the aid station. I had to at least try.

Coming across the bridge, I asked Christian to lead. He did a great job pulling and for a while I thought we’d make it. But the longer we went on, the more my hope faded. We just didn’t seem to be getting up the hill fast enough. My slow jog slowed to a walk and I told Christian it was “an impossible split.” Just then, a teenager came out of the darkness to take my bottles.

Lewis at finish with that 100 mile stare

My estimated split from Robie Point to the finish was 15 minutes, but my watch told me I had 14 minutes to make it under 20 hours. Skipping the aid station, we met my sister on the street and started to climb through the city streets of Auburn. I remember feeling like there was no way I could physically run any faster. A couple of teenage girls in flip flops had started running with us.

“Wait for us,” they yelled.

At last we started the descent toward the white bridge. I could feel pain shooting through my quads with every step, but it was good pain and after a short climb we were on the white bridge, then over it, rumbling toward the track.

At the high school, I couldn’t see the official race clock and didn’t know how much time I had to run those final 250 meters. It wasn’t until we rounded the final curve that I realized I was going to make it — with 30 seconds to spare.

Final thoughts: 1. A great pacer can make all the difference – Christian pushed me just enough without being pushy. Duff took the initiative and pulled me up the 6-minute hill. 2. A bandana that holds ice is a good thing to have in the canyons when it’s 90-100 degrees 3. When you’re training, following your cravings and “going by feel” works, but not during your taper or during the first 30 miles of a 100-miler. Be smarter than your taper! 4. Setting goals along the way is a great way to motivate yourself late in a 100-miler, even if those goals mean nothing to anyone but you. 5. Sleep works!

10. My ability to live comfortably while she’s away.  I promise to clean up before you come home.

9. I fertilize the rug with my fingernail clippings.

8. My obsession with Western States.  Honey, registration for the 2010 event starts on October 1!  Wanna go to the lottery in December?

7. My sleeping habits.  I really don’t understand why you don’t want a TV in the bedroom.

6. My guns, as in biceps (hmmm, maybe that’s somebody else?).

5. All the opportunities I provide to help with ski patrol, Where’s Waldo, trailwork, aid stations, etc.

4. I make large bets and put thousands of dollars, the truck, or the house on the line.

3. My awareness and concern for water consumption by only showering once a week or so.  Hot tubs are great!

2. My part-time work status for the last, what is it, 20 years.

1. My collection of running shoes.

A few of my shoes

What does your partner love about you?

It is with great sadness that I post this notice that Dave Terry has
passed away.  A ten time finisher of the western states 100 and a ten time
finisher of the wasatch 100, Dr. Dave was one of the strongest and most
compassionate men alive. He was also my training partner for the last ten
years.  I will miss him.

A funeral is planned for Saturday, September 26, starting at 11:00 a.m.,
at the Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Enumclaw, Washington.  It will be
good to see many of you there.  If anyone has questions, please feel free
to write me.  Thanks.

Steve Smucker

Dave near Table Mtn in the Columbia River Gorge

Several of us have already begun telling stories about Dave.  My favorite story is of watching Dave rebuild himself after a meltdown in Volcano Canyon in the 2002 Western States 100.  He was in a chair at Bath Rd in the shade.  I was behind him and my wife said when another runner came into the aid station, also dehydrated, having puked, and bonked, he asked the veteran Dave what to do.  His answer was: Volume.  Electrolytes.  Calories. Volume was in reference to his blood pressure which was low because of dehydration and all the blood at the skin trying to cool his body down.  So he sat in the shade, put ice on his body, and drank some fluids.  Next, he took some electrolytes in the form of S-caps.  “Why not first with the fluid?” I asked Dave after the race.  He said because if he was going to puke again he didn’t want the salt to come back up as it was very abrasive.  Last on the list was getting the calories in.  That was because he knew his stomach couldn’t do anything with the calories until his blood pressure was back up and he was caught up with electrolytes.  The other runner didn’t listen and continued shuffling up Bath Rd as Dave sat.

I passed Dave as he sat in that chair and he looked like hell.  I also passed the other runner before Foresthill, never to see him until after I finished.  I remember my pacer pointing out on Cal St that I was now the first Oregonian in the race.  That didn’t last long though as a flying Dave Terry screams by us on the steep downs after Cal 2.  He had rehabbed the rig as Twiet would say.  I couldn’t believe it.  What a turn around.  Dave proceeded to run well to the end and finished 13th in 19:25, 8 minutes behind M10, and 18 minutes in front of me.

Dave was a great competitor but also very generous with advice to anybody that would ask, even if it meant you would finish in front of him as a result of that advice.  If you were at WS this year you might have seen him in the medical tent as he volunteered his medical skills and knowledge to help us runners.  He got his 10 finishes and was giving back to the race.

I am deeply saddened by his passing.

Let’s hear your stories about Dave.  Steve will be sure Dave’s family reads them.

Update: See Steve Smucker’s comment below on where to make donations in Dave’s name.

From Roger Bannister first breaking the 4-minute barrier in 1954, to Hicham El Guerrouj running the current world record of 3:43 in 1999, to Alan Webb running 3:53 as a high schooler in Eugene in 2001 and then setting the American Record 3:46 in 2007, the mile has captivated track fans.  While the mile is seldom raced in the rest of the world anymore, each June at the Prefontaine Classic we get to watch the best in the world run the mile.  Last year we saw 13 guys break 4-minutes for the mile.  4 laps plus a little bit.  1609 meters.

What about the women?  Well, they don’t race the distance as often as the men, but the current bests are 4:16 by Mary Slaney (American Record) and 4:12 by Svetlana Masterkova (World Record).

So this summer, after a decade of running 100 milers, I wanted to see if I could still run a “fast” mile.  My partner for this was Tbag, a 4:28 1600 meter runner in high school.  He’s still got some wheels as he runs a fast mile each year, usually sub-4:50.  But he’s getting close to being old (he’s 39) and he’s been drinking beer like AJW does, so it wasn’t a gimmie for him this year.

With five or six weeks of faster track workouts and drastically reduced weekly mileage, we set the date and time of Sept 11, 6pm at Hayward Field for our sub-5-minute mile attempt.  I recruited 2:18 marathoner and former UO track runner, John Lucas, to help us with the pace.  John, who is preparing to run Chicago Marathon next month, thought he needed to be tired before the mile so he wouldn’t go too fast.  So Friday morning he ran 24 miles, with 21 of them at 5:30 per mile pace.  A surprising number of people showed up to watch the old slow ultrarunner run 4 laps and 9 meters around the track.  Not so sure why there was such a crowd, but it was great to have so many friends there.

You can watch the video to see how it shook out, but at 1000 meters it got very hard for me. Thanks to perfect pacing by John both of us got under 5:00.  Tbag put a move on me in the last 400 meters to finish in 4:57.4 while I squeaked under with a 4:59.0.  If you’re stuck in a rut doing that 100 mile shuffle, maybe you should get on the track and see what you can do.  The speed comes back pretty quickly.  In my first repeat 400 workout just six weeks ago I barely averaged 78s!  It’s a lot of fun and can be a great source of motivation. Oh, and a personal challenge to AJW - let’s see if you can run faster than my 4:59.0.  And don’t forget I’m 4 years older than you.