Bev Anderson-Abbs, Montrail athlete and elite female ultra runner, was the 3rd female to cross the finish line at Western States 100 a few weeks ago. Here’s her take on the race:

The Perfect 50 Miles….

“You don’t learn anything from a perfect race” Scott Wolfe, 2009, post WS100

When the fires of 2008 canceled Western States, I can’t say that I was disappointed. I had been seriously injured and was running with trekking poles in order for my IT band and knees to withstand descents at all. I spent the entire year dealing with these injuries and returned to Squaw Valley ready to run in 2009. I had a friend, Joe Palubeski ready to push me as a pacer for the final 38 miles, and Jennifer Borchard and her husband Richard geared up to crew me and make sure my stops were kept to a minimum.

Saturday morning, after a few minor pre-race day glitches, I was ready to go and actually found myself looking forward to this year’s event. I knew there were some very fast women, Nikki Kimball, Krissy Moehl, Jenn Shelton, and Anita Ortiz, as well as several others, but my plan was to stick with my splits and race smart, never let my race get out of my control no matter what the others were doing. We had not had the heat in Red Bluff that we normally would have had so I was a little worried when temperatures started to climb, but I’ve dealt with high temperatures for years and thought I would be able to work through whatever we were in for.

The start of Western States is always a little crazy, runners sprint up the mountain, camera flashes cause momentary blindness, and the crowd pushes in from all sides. I tried to stay steady and soon found myself toward the front of the pack. I took the climb up to Emigrant Pass much easier than I have in past years, walking more than I ever have, and reached the top with Mark Lantz and just behind Anita. I ignored what Anita was doing and fell in behind Mark so we could talk. We both were planning about the same splits and finish time, sub-19 hours so we started running together. It seemed a little easy and I wanted to increase my pace, but I held steady and kept my run easy and relaxed, arriving at Lyon’s Ridge almost 10 minutes before my planned split.

I refueled and left with Mark, Anita was trying to run up every climb and seemed to be working way too hard this early in the race. Mark and I hiked the hills and easily caught her within a few steps on the flats where we would pull away. Again, I set a comfortable pace and arrived at Red Star Ridge another few minutes up on my splits.

So far the race had the kind of slow, ethereal quality that only a perfect run can have. I was running better than ever, I felt relaxed, my taped knees felt great, and I was performing periodic “system checks” and always found no issues, all systems go.

My world was with Anita and Mark and we continued on this way out of Red Star where I left my gloves, refueled, and headed into Duncan Canyon and then the big climb up to Robinson Flat. I arrived at Robinson Flat 17 minutes ahead of plan, with my crew barely ready for me, and as calmly as possible told them to make a few changes to what I had requested for the next time I saw them at Michigan Bluff. I forgot to get a Boost, but I grabbed a turkey, cheese, avocado sandwich and fresh bottles and left the aid station just behind Erik Skaden.

I took time on the climb to eat my sandwich and just as I hit the descent my favorite descending song, American Idiot by Green Day, started playing. The beat was slightly faster than I was running and it seemed effortless to pick up to match it, quickly catching Erik to run with him through Millers Defeat and Dusty Corners, still enjoying the run like I never have before.

I arrived at Last Chance with Eric, Mark, and Anita and we all weighed in and took the time to cool off at the “car wash” before heading into the first of the canyons on the way to Devil’s Thumb. Still feeling great, I took off and arrived at the bottom of the canyon thinking even if I walk this whole climb it would only be 32 minutes or so.

Not so.. This is where my perfect day started to unravel with little warning.

On the climb up to Devil’s Thumb, I could barely breathe and had to stop three times to let my racing heart slow down. I kept pushing and after what seemed an eternity, made it to the aid station at the top. The volunteers were great as usual, feeding me Popsicles, soaking me down, and moving me on my way again. Feeling better, I jogged off but remained worried about how I felt on that climb and how fast it came on, my system checks were not coming back 100%.

My next test was El Dorado Canyon and the climb up to Michigan Bluff, where I would see my crew again. I felt that if I were going to suffer again it would be on the climb. I was alone and let myself go to enjoy the long descent. I had just passed the spring about halfway down the trail when I blacked out and found myself lying in a manzanita bush on the side of the trail, looking up at the bottle dangling from my left fingers suspended above my face and thinking “We have manzanita bushes in Red Bluff”.

I regrouped, recognizing signs of potential heat exhaustion, got out of the bush and started down the trail again. A short while later, I passed through my next landmark, a small meadow with a wooden fence on the right, and suddenly felt dizzy. I kicked a rock and went down hard on my left shoulder, knocking the wind out of my lungs briefly. I picked myself back up and decided I had better take it very slow the rest of the way down. The final switchback before the bridge and El Dorado Creek, only about 20 feet to go, and…you have to be kidding me…I’m dizzy and tripping again.

I spent some time at the aid station trying to cool myself down and assess my situation before beginning what should be a 42-45 minute climb. I had both bottles filled, one water, one gu2O, took some electrolytes, and loaded my sport bra with ice to try to cool my core, and then set off. The climb took me a horrifying 55 minutes, during which time I was actually taking ice out of the front of my shirt to suck on. By the time I reached the top I knew there was something terribly wrong. A deep breath resulted in knifing pain through my left shoulder and back, and the middle toe of my right foot was throbbing.

At the aid station I asked for a chiropractor, or whatever assistance they could give. I was hoisted onto a massage table where they started to work the spasms out of my back and laid ice-cold towels over me to reduce the heat my body was radiating. My core temperature was around 103F. As I lay there it seemed like a steady stream of runners was passing through the aid station. It would have been easy to quit here. My crew looked very worried and Joe kept saying we’d reassess in a little while. But I did not come to run 55 miles and I did not see myself stopping if I was still ambulatory, besides what would that get me? Sure I’d run and I may even do Western States again, if I could get in, but what would I learn about myself.

Joe said last he heard Krissy was 30 minutes back and Nikki about 90 minutes. I knew that 30 minutes could be wiped out very easily at this stage, and probably had been with my canyon experience. I didn’t want to know where Anita was. Dan Olmstead and Scott Wolfe, friends from Oregon, passed through, and slowly the fire came back into my eyes, I was off the table, although I recognized and respected that I was not out of danger, the next 45 miles would have to be played very carefully.

Jennifer, Rick, and Joe walked me through town, feeding me baked beans from a can and another Boost, handing me fresh bottles, pouring water over my head and saying “we’ll see how you’re feeling in Foresthill”.

I tried to run, but the pounding still sent shots of pain through my shoulder so I held a fast walk and used the time to fuel up. By the time I turned off the dirt road onto the trail into Volcano Canyon, I was able to jog, then run. At Volcano Creek, I lay in a pool for five minutes to try to cool my still too hot body, and then started up to Bath Road. I caught several people who had passed me at Michigan Bluff, finally passing Scott Wolfe just before the aid station. I had asked Joe to try to be at Bath Road to accompany me up the hill and there he was. It was a godsend to have him there. He got my bottles filled and had an extra bottle of cold water that he poured over me on the climb. Half way up we passed Chikara Omine weaving slightly and asked if we could do anything. He sent us off, but we made sure to tell folks at Foresthill that he needed some help.

Foresthill…I was actually able to run the road into the aid station and felt good doing it. I was now close to an hour behind my splits, somewhat disappointing considering I had been over 30 minutes ahead of them not so long ago. I had to rethink my plan from this point on. I was still overheated, my shoulder hurt, and my toe was getting more painful, although admittedly, it did become numb after 15 minutes or so of running. It was the stops that brought the pain out. I weighed in and went to my crew, where they had multiplied. I now had two more smiling women, friends of Jennifer, absolutely waiting on me. I told them I needed to change socks so they sat me down, gently removed my Montrail Streaks and socks, told me my toe looked really bad, wiped my feet off and, just as gently, put on dry socks and my shoes again all in less than a minute. This was the pit crew dreams are made of!

I fueled up while they took care of my feet and grabbed an extra bottle of Boost for the trail. Joe and I set off at a good clip down Cal Street and back onto the trails. We were again passing runners through this section and I was feeling better, although still too hot. Each creek we passed I lay down in for a few seconds and had Joe splash water over my chest. Much of this section I ran with Joe D’alessio and his pacer Caitlin Smith. We passed Victor Ballesteros soon after leaving Foresthill and kept catching glimpses of runners that we thought were Dan and his pacer.

Crossing the river was sweet reprieve for my system. I would have sworn you could see steam rising when I hit the cool water to make my way across. As short as I am, this crossing was a comical event as I tried to straddle over boulders only to fall into holes on their far side. The cold water did wonders for me at this point but I was still not ready to tackle the climb at more than a forced march. Joe and I headed up the hill and shortly before reaching the top I was passed by Krissy, running. I actually managed a run for the last few hundred yards to Green Gate, and then sat down for a complete pit stop and preparation for night running.

I had thought the additional crew angels would only be at Foresthill, but here they were again and suddenly my Montrail Streaks and socks were being removed, feet wiped down and now socks and fresh Streaks were being put in place and tied. A Starbuck’s mocha went down exceptionally well, as did two cups of chicken noodle soup. The one thing I wanted at this aid station, potato soup, was not to be had this year. Again, I took a Boost for the trail and pulled a pair of tie-dyed Moeben sleeves around my wrists in case it cooled off enough to need my arms covered.

Dan Olmstead with his pacer, and Caitlin and Joe left Green Gate just ahead of me but by now I was feeling much better and told Joe P. it was his job to help me hit my splits the rest of the way. We set a good pace and very quickly caught and passed these two sets of runners. They both held on to the pace I was setting and stuck very close behind Joe. Shortly before reaching ALT, headlights were turned on but we all kept going. This is about where Victor passed me again moving incredibly fast.

At ALT, I finally got my longed for potato soup. Joe P. and I made short work of the stop and headed off again. I set pace, followed by Joe P., then Joe D, and Caitlin. I’ve run with Joe enough that he knows how hazardous it can be to follow too close behind another runner, especially at night, and he was keeping a reasonable distance back, Joe D, however was right on his heel, as I again set a fast pace headed to Brown’s Bar. Joe and Caitlin were hanging on and I was feeling a little cocky at this point so I pushed the pace up. When I very suddenly stopped to throw up off the side of the trail, a collision was inevitable. Joe D. piled into Joe P. and Caitlin into both of them.

After losing whatever I had eaten in the last few hours, I was ready to go again so I set off with the same train of people following. I was not pushing as hard and at one point stopped to walk a minor hill. Joe did nothing to get me moving and said “I’m just trusting your judgment now”. “Joe, you’re not here to trust my judgment, make me do something,” I snapped back, hopefully the first and only time I snapped at him. He made me and by the time we reached Brown’s Bar, Joe and I were alone. I had more soup, got a handful of ginger candies to settle my stomach and rolled out just as the next runners arrived.

Highway 49 came and went and we were climbing the hill to Cool just before the descent to No-Hands Bridge. I filled a bottle with Coke at No-Hands and set off. Joe no longer trusted my judgment and made me run the climb until the very steep sections. We hiked up the road and as soon as things leveled out again, ran the rest of the way to finish in 19:53, a little over an hour off what I had planned.

So what happened? Although I live in Red Bluff and normally savor the high temperatures experienced, we had not had any heat prior to race day; in fact we had storms every afternoon up to five days prior so I had no heat acclimation. It didn’t seem as hot as 2006, so I may not have been quite as diligent with cooling off early, although someone told me it had been over 100F at Rucky-Chucky at 6:00pm. The middle toe was broken in my second fall, so I ran about 50 miles with it causing an annoyance the rest of the day, especially on climbs. I will come back, and hopefully have that perfect race feeling for the entire 100.2 miles.