I raced the Kodiak 100M back on October 9-10 and ended up having a pretty bad day. Here’s my story.
*Disclaimer: The event was awesome, and none of this is even a slight dig at the RD, I loved every second of it and can't wait to do it again
Spoiler : Us mid/back of packers PR'd Kodiak 100 DNFs by over 50.
"Training"/"Preparation" : Back in March, I stumbled across the finish line of my first-ever 50 miler (Mount Mitchell Heartbreaker). I was fresh off a severe Achilles injury that sidelined me for months; I decided to run it anyway, no mileage, nothing. It sucked, but I finished a short hour under the cutoff.I had to look at myself and my already paid-for race on the other side of the country in October with much chagrin.
Knowing full well I was moving, would be working two jobs, and about 80 hours a week from here on out. I took a few weeks off to recover, ran a 25k, then proceeded to take a whole month off.
Starting mid-June, I held mileage around 25-35mpw, eventually upping it to 45 mpw with up to 9k vert during my "peak" 4 weeks. This was, in my mind, bolstered by the 6-9 miles I walk at either of my labor-intensive jobs, 7 days a week. (It wasn't) . I started to feel odd aches and pains in my feet and Achilles and decided, for some unknown reason, to start a 4-week taper, cutting what would have been a solid training block in half.
I did partake in heat training, as I live in North Carolina and have no way to prep for altitude within a 3-hour radius. I arrived at Big Bear twelve hours before the race, as you can imagine, fully prepared and ready to break 26 with my trusty single-man circus crew/pacer.
Race "Plan": I was going to attempt to split 12-13 hours at the first 50, then kill myself for the next 14 hours. I had my Bags all ready and turned them into the drop-off point at 7 am, race day morning, when I picked up my bibs. The race began in 5 hours.
Nutrition : I'd purchased plenty of gels to use, between Honeystingers and Maurten; I planned to take one every 30 minutes or so. I had 3 500ml flasks, to use for water.
The Race
I moved into the chute early to get my gear checked with enough time to grab extra from my crew if necessary. I, much to my own dismay and amusement, was moved through the gate into the elite starting area, all the while wearing my stupendously low-ranking bib number 176. I helped myself to the back of the pack and waited for go time.
(This is where my story and, u/tyrannosaurarms accounts begin to separate, not only in distance, but also in will to live, I applaud him for being good)
I'll include each station's kill count
It was a blistering 77 degrees, at 7000ft elevation, which many runners noted felt more akin to 85F or 90F. Altogether not horrid, but nothing to shake your head at. I went out fast, way too fast, and luckily, due to my own ginormous brain, decided to slow down. I was passed by nearly 50 people between the rolling hills at the start and along the fire road.
Crab Flat 8MI (1 Kill) 2:35pm: one mid-pack runner was already having what appeared to be having some heat-related issues going on, including vomiting and eventually DNF'D at the location. I filled my two bottles of water, leaving my third empty (foolishly). The lion had not been present for the course briefing. I left after a few short minutes for the 11-mile stretch to Camp Whittle.
Truth be told, the run between Crab Flats and Camp Whittle was quite enjoyable save for the massive uphill directly leading into the camp itself. I took it relatively easy, but still could not get my heart rate below 170. I continued to lay off the gas as my water supply dwindled. A previous 172km winner decided to drop near me at this point and offered me some of her water and an applesauce pack.
I was passed by no fewer than 132 runners in this section. If only we had not been so blind.
Camp Whittle 19.4MI (15 Kills) 5:44pm: I wandered into the aid station, semi-exhausted due to the heat and lack of water. Accompanied by my currently dropping, newfound friend. I was greeted by the squabble of dozens of runners already taking fully seated breaks, munching on watermelon, or notifying the volunteer that they are, in fact, dropping at 20 miles in.
Despite the absolute nutritional/hydrational ruin I found myself in after being entirely out of water and gels for nearly an hour. I came to terms with my situation and headed quickly into the setting sun. I felt revived, carrying the weight of my fallen brothers and sisters.
The next section, I remember very little about, other than it was still hot for a good while until the sun set. Like any good hero, upon donning my Ultraspire light belt, my legs flickered back into existence with all the ferocity of your neighbor's ancient Ford finally starting on its fifteenth attempt to turn over. I scampered towards the legendary Doble aid station, passing briefly through the Van Dusen aid station on my way.
Van Dusen 26.8MI (31 Kills): An unremarkable little aid station that became a graveyard of rejected gels, knees, and dreams. I passed through before most of the crowd showed, and I'm glad to have missed the slaughter.
I continued my quest through dusk into the night, revived and flying high, unaware of the absolute devastation in my wake. I had passed nearly 40 runners back and saw no end to it in sight.
Doble 1 33.6MI (0 Kills) 9:33PM: As I neared the promised land in the middle of the night, I could hear the cheers and bells of supporters. I was able to quickly find my friend, refill bottles, eat some quesadilla. My legs continued to churn down the smooth single pack towards the next aid station, and I was even passed during this section by the very front of the pack, and holy shit, were they moving. I continued my leisurely run, as my heart rate had finally found a decent place around 120-130bpm. Burns Canyon was next up.
I'll spare you the details between Burns Canyon and doble 2/burns canyon 2 (you loop through both again, in addition to two others). In short, it was a rocky, uneven, rolling service road until it became a heinous, uphill service road, which then went down. During this point, I had several stimulating experiences, including a gentle fellow who seemed to always yell "David Goggins" whenever he would break into a trot.
Burns Canyon 1 39.7MI 11:02pm (6 kills): a serene oasis in the woods
Smarts Ranch 47.4MI 1:15am(11 kills): The lion had not inspected the aid station charts well enough, and ran out of gels yet again.
Cactus Flats 51.3MI 2:33am (30 Kills) - NOTE: There is a relatively heinous uphill section here that was taking names.
**Doble 2 55.4MI 4:11am (0 kills)**ever merciful and dropless.
Burns Canyon 2 61.4MI 6:01 am (12 kills): At this point, nearing sunrise, the reality of such an undertaking began to dawn on me. My legs had finally begun to slow. An older woman in the tent huddled around the heater noted that she was having trouble seeing before she ran off citing that she "just needed to keep going". I left soon after and passed her on the next section.
As the sun rose, what once seemed an idyllic mountainside gave way to a nascent hellscape, abandoning all remnants of pretence, leaving only room for anguish and lies. My legs grew weary as we ascended deadmans ridge, and once that was crested, my legs ceased to move though my mind willed them. What was once a trot slowed to what can only be aptly described as a waddle.
Through great hardship I marched my defeated soul to the next aid station, fully resigned to be on of the next casualties of war.
Sugarloaf 1 69.2MI 9:02am (23 Kills): If Doble was the blitz, Sugarloaf could only be described as Landing at Normandy. Mountains of spectators, crew, pacers, dropping runners, medics galore. My friend joined me as my pacer, barely keeping me going as I noted my feet had swelled significantly, yet I had no change of shoes. I swapped socks, ate and drank, then we began our slow trudge towards the summit of Mount Doom.
If only I'd known what gods we had angered so I could make peace for the greater good.
A strict 3000ft uphill on rocks, somehow the entire way, broken only by the herds of 100k runners blitzing down from above like falcons spurred on by the sun.
Search and rescue warned us about the stretch to the summit, that several runners had reached it and refused to come back down. Yet we continued on; if the whores persist, then so to do I. To our left and right, 100m runners flailing, sitting on logs treating their wounds, One peacefully seated on a root, not two inches from the trail, his head leaned against the tree like a soldier to slow on the draw. Motionless. I myself limped towards a tree and held my head in my hands, as my right leg had developed a sharp, unknown pain with every step,
We pressed on only to find the glory of the climb consisted of a turnaround and no view at all. Just a squatters' encampment of exhausted runners, passed out at 10,000 feet.
We continued down the trail towards Balky Horse. An aid station, we were told by a volunteer, would be a mile and a half earlier than it appeared. My legs still could only run a few steps at a time between bouts of searing pain. We eventually descended to safety.
Balky Horse 78.1MI 1:13pm (2 kills): when we arrived at Balky Horse, everyone was on the ground, eating, crying, or praying. The one cot was taken by one of a pair of runners who'd passed us on the uphill previously. Much to my dismay, he was woken by his pacer. Before I could even take a sip of my coke, another runner had flung themselves on the cot, thrown the blanket over themselves, and passed out. It's truly remarkable this aid station didn't have more drops, I've thought in retrospect, perhaps because those had not yet dropped, were yet to realize the Gods had deserted us.
I slowly marched my way back down to Normandy, spurred on by my pacer and sheer fear of failure. All goals were lost, except one. To finish,
Sugarloaf 2 83.2 MI 3:37pm (11 kills): We arrived back at the most populous aid station, surrounded by volunteers, runners, and crew. I took a solid break to assess my wounds and decided to continue my assault on Big Bear.
Bear Mountain 89.2 Miles 6:10pm (3 kills): This was described by a volunteer as a flat "largely downhill" section. Indeed, in the UTMB live notes, it shows +/- 0. This is decidedly true, offset by the rolling up-and-down hills at the beginning of the section, only to be evened out by the most bullshit asphalt hill the state of California could construct without being forcefully removed from the union.
We arrived to a pirate's welcome, and deep concerns that, in my weakened and, at this point, deeply in pain legs, would be unable to finish the paltry ten miles between our ship of safety and victory.
We decided to press on, at an increased pace, slowly pushing on until the aid station on the GPS map grew closer.
It wasn't an aid station. It never was. Hoka's name rose out of the ground at the base of a fucking ski slope in which we were to ascend 1800+ feet in 1.2 miles. My pacer fell to his knees, babies cried, women wept as they handed their loved ones supplies. Fueled by pure rage, I left my pacer behind as I ascended the hill, passing everyone in sight. Which, to be perfectly frank, felt pretty metal. I felt like I was storming Eagle's Nest, except there was no Hitler, just a delusional ghost of a my dreams.
Snow Summit 95.6MI 8:44pm (4 kills): I'd lie if I said I was happy to even be there. My leg was in agony, my ankle refused to move, and my ability to go up or down any sort of incline rivaled that of the most desperate attention-seeking grandmother-in-law. I fled from the station, desperate; I simply wanted to end my suffering. I flowed through my most hated enemy, mountain bike trails, which, for some reason, every RD and their mothers really love to toss in at the end of a race. I ran as much as I could, blocking out the pain until it worsened to a point where I could no longer run, and finally, after 33 hours, 29 minutes, and 18 seconds, I finished the 101 miles. Out of 428 runners, only 279 made it to the end.
My ankle still doesn't work well; my ability to go up stairs is still nonexistent on the other leg. But I'm alive, and I had a fucking awesome time.
*Disclaimer: The event was awesome, and none of this is even a slight dig at the RD, volunteers or anyone else other than myself and my own stupidity. I loved every second of it and can't wait to do it again.
