My first pacer experience at a 100 miles race – the Canyons Endurance Run.
It all started with Lindsey’s message in our SFRC WhatsApp group: “I’m looking for some pacers for Canyons 100M on April 28th. I’ll pay you back with your choice of homemade baked goods”. I was immediately sold on the idea of pacing someone from my local running group for such a prestigious race; heck, the baked goods were enough of an incentive for me. Canyons is a World Series event that serves as a qualifier for the UTMB World Series Finals, UTMB Mont-Blanc, equivalent to the Olympics for trail running.
At first, I was a bit shy about messaging her because I was afraid of not being fast enough. But then I decided to take the plunge and send her a private message to let her know I’d love to pace her. I was honest about my running abilities and suggested that she take a look at my Strava profile to make sure I wouldn’t slow her down. My worries floated away as she positively responded, “You’re a real strong runner!”. The next day, I met her in person at SFRC Saturday runs. It turned out I would need to pace the last 34 miles. It was a real challenge for me since I had never run further than 26.2 miles before and her pace was going to be quite fast. The following week, I committed to pacing her; she was thrilled and grateful that a stranger like me was willing to run 34 miles through the night with her.
As race day approached, I found myself seeking guidance on how to be an effective pacer for Lindsey. Talking to my friends, I realized that there were many factors to consider. However, I was overwhelmed by the varying opinions out there. Are you supposed to push them? Should you be talking to them? Should you be in front or behind them? When do you make a call if something goes wrong? How often do you check up on them without being annoying? The list goes on. It didn’t help that I did not know much about Lindsey either. I had only interacted with her briefly that Saturday morning, had a phone call, and had a 14-mile run a week before the race. I quickly realized that a pacer could greatly impact someone’s race experience, so I took my job seriously.
Someone in particular – Jamie – helped me understand the significance of my role. I am incredibly thankful for his time and guidance. I could sense his enthusiasm for Lindsey’s success in the upcoming race, and his words stuck with me “This race could be a turning for Lindsey, the beginning of something greater.” He told me how she was an enigma, the type of runner who goes out and fucking crushes the course. Her ability to run that fast for 100 miles, she had to have some mantra, but no one knew what it was. Even after running 38 miles for 9.5 hours with her, I still haven’t found what it is.
The week of her race, I did not hear from her until the day before. She sent me some details about the mandatory gear, what she wanted to accomplish, and again that she was so grateful to have someone by her side to run through the night. I responded, and then radio silence. Later that evening, I even wondered if she still wanted me to pace her. I reached out to a few friends asking them if they had heard from her. Nothing. I drove up to Sacramento and slept at my brother’s wife’s parent’s home, where, again, I got an immense amount of advice. I spent 3 hours with Randy, who’s had a handful of experiences as a pacer. I texted Lindsey and asked about her estimated arrival time at Forest Hill, where I was picking her up for the last 34 miles. I went to bed anxious, still no news from her.
I woke up at 9 AM on Friday, just as the race was beginning. I checked my phone; four texts from Lindsey at 8:30 AM. She expected to arrive at Forest Hill around 7 PM. I could read her nervousness through her words. I spent the morning foam rolling, chatting with Randy, and frantically packing my running pack about five times. It’s incredible how much can fit in the pack, which also increases the likelihood of losing items in there. I attempted to memorize where I put the gels, the bars, the headlamps, the salt tabs, the bandages, and so on. Later in the evening, I had to redo my pack. I headed over to Auburn for a late lunch and met some friends who were participating in the 100K race the next day. We then headed to their Airbnb, which was right in Forest Hill. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening lounging on the couch, pacing around the house and porch, snacking on pretzels, and sporadically drinking electrolytes and coffee while keeping up with Lindsey’s live tracker. She was in 4th place among female runners and wasn’t expected to arrive until 11 PM. We decided to head over to the aid station earlier than planned to catch a glimpse of the top three female runners. Everyone seemed worn out from the severe heat, which had remained at 90 degrees all day in Auburn and reached 100 degrees in the canyons. Observing others’ physical and mental states was beneficial because it gave me an understanding of how Lindsey might be feeling and confirmed that everyone was struggling.
She arrived at 11 PM and was able to talk without any issues. However, her knee began to bother her, which presented a challenge later in the race. Despite this, she shared a funny story, indicating she was in good spirits. Until we both realized we hadn’t seen any runners for quite some time. I overheard back at the aid station that the course map had been changed, and the left turn to the trail was further down the road than the map indicated. But I had no idea when this turn was supposed to be. We stopped a car in the middle of the road and confirmed that we had gone too far. We backtracked; I checked my watch and realized we had been running for over 4 miles on this road. I did some math in my head and estimated that we missed the turn by about 2 miles, which meant this was a 4 miles mistake. I did not tell Lindsey, of course. I felt devastated and blamed myself. But I couldn’t reveal my feelings to Lindsey, as I knew it would affect her mental state. Instead, I apologized once and tried to lighten the mood by making a joke about the situation and said something like, “100 miles were not enough for you that you have to add some more!”. I also made some silly jokes and riddles: “This race is just like camping, it’s intense (in-tents)” and “What time is it when an elephant sits on a fence? It’s time to fix the fence”. Thankfully, Lindsey responded with a polite laugh. I like to think that it was somewhat effective and got us to stop thinking about that detour.
That first stretch was challenging due to Lindsey’s injured knee. We had to walk all of the hills, which was the majority of the course once we hit the trail. Two runners passed us, which was discouraging, but I encouraged Lindsey to stay strong and reminded her that this race was far from over and that we would most likely pass them later on. After 13 miles, we reached the next first station. It felt like a rebirth. We asked the medical team to check Lindsey’s knee. A runner miraculously had Bio freeze, which I applied to her knee, and medical staff strapped it to stabilize it. After that, we were able to start running again, which was a game-changer. I had asked the aid station staff about Lindsey’s ranking, as I knew our detour must have cost her something, but I couldn’t check for myself because there was no service. The aid station guy told me she was in fifth place, but shortly after that, another woman ran through the station, putting Lindsey in sixth place. It wasn’t as bad as I thought.
As we ran through the canyons under a half-moon and a sky full of stars, the single-track trails felt magical. Every sound, from the cracking tree branches to the howling animals and intense river flow after the snowy season, was audible. I felt a deep connection to the earth like never before and was in awe. However, I was also highly focused on ensuring Lindsey was following and eating enough. We didn’t come across any other runners for at least 5-6 miles, and I started to imagine scenarios where a mountain lion would jump on the trail. Finally, I spotted a headlamp in the near distance, and I told Lindsey that we were about to pass someone. This gave us a mental boost, and we ended up passing one woman and one man.
As we took on the long steep climb leading up to Driver’s Flat aid station, Lindsey walked with the determination of a true champion. As the race progressed, time seemed to both stand still and fly by simultaneously. My sole focus was getting Lindsey to the finish line. The next thing I remember is finally reaching Driver’s Flat aid station and seeing two familiar faces, Jessie and Katy, whom I had only met once before but felt like family at that moment. I explained our needs while Lindsey fueled up on broth and water. Katy provided much-needed words of encouragement, she told me Lindsey was doing extremely well and to stay positive. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find Biofreeze at this aid station. We continued on our journey as the darkness turned into the mystical morning light. It was like the morning after a battle when we turned off our headlamps and experienced the morning’s first light, listening to the birds singing at full force. I even contemplated playing “Circle Of Life” from The Lion King.
We endeavored into another single-track trail in the forest. The terrain felt smooth, quite a change from the rocky one we had earlier. As I ran, I noticed numerous tree roots on the ground, and it felt as if I was running alongside my companions, the trees. They were an integral part of our adventure, pushing Lindsey to keep going until the very end. As we journeyed through nature, I felt an overwhelming sense of joy and shared a peaceful silence that brought us all closer together.
We arrived at the second to last aid station, Clementine, where we were informed that we had 7 miles to go. Both Lindsey and I were pleased to hear that. The remaining stretch included 3.5 miles downhill to No Hands Bridge, followed by 3.5 miles uphill back to Auburn. We refilled Lindsey’s water, grabbed a few watermelon slices to keep us alive, and set off for the last section. The downhill on the road was a relief, as Lindsey’s knee was still bothering her. With only 7 miles left, we felt energized and determined to complete the remaining miles. We ran down the road and reached the trail section by the river and the famous Auburn Bridge. It was breathtaking, and I felt privileged to be there. The beautiful scenery and the emotions flowing in our bodies kept us going strong.
Approaching No Hands Bridge, something magical occurred. We crossed paths with the 100K, 50K, and 25K runners who were running in the opposite direction. Every runner we passed cheered and applauded Lindsey with such honesty and astonishment. “Keep going!”, “Bring it home!”, “You’ve got this!”, “You’re amazing!”, “So strong.” Their words of encouragement, big smiley faces, and positive energy evoked a flood of emotions in me and even brought tears to my eyes. I had never felt such a strong sense of camaraderie before. It wasn’t just about achieving a personal accomplishment but also about the human connection we shared with hundreds of others who were all competing in the same race and pushing each other beyond limits. There was a mutual understanding that this was the most beautiful thing. As someone who has played D1 golf in college and competed in sports before, I have never experienced such a strong bond with that many people. Lindsey and I haven’t talked about this moment, but words are not necessary to understand the significance of what we experienced together. We both know in our hearts that this was real and surreal at the same time.
The final 3 miles of uphill switchbacks were pure survival mode. The sun was shining, the temperatures were mild, and Lindsey was running like a champ. We finally reached the top of the hill and had only road left to the end. Neither of us knew how long we still had to go, so we asked a guy on the side who responded, “About a mile”. The goal was not to get lost on this final mile. We could manage that. After I told Lindsey we had about 0.4 miles left, she sprinted towards the finish line like she had nothing left in her but everything left at the same time. I couldn’t stop smiling; I must have looked funky. What kind of person runs 38 miles all night long and finishes with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen? A trail runner. If only I could have frozen time to watch Lindsey finish this thing like a stud over and over again! She crossed the finish line 23 hours and 31 minutes and 104 miles later, placing 5th among female runners, and qualified for the UTMB World Series Finals in France 2024 as an elite runner.
After finishing the race, we were happy to see our friend Carolyn cheering us on. We were escorted to an aid station where we could rest and enjoy some post-race snacks. Given that we had been deprived of sleep for more than 24 hours, and Lindsey had run a distance of 100 miles while I had covered 38, we lay down on reclining chairs and wrapped ourselves in emergency blankets. I must say, Carolyn deserves a special mention for bringing me a walnut banana muffin that was beyond delicious – it was the best I’ve ever had!
The experience was far from over as I headed to Driver’s Flat aid station to cheer on those running the 100K. Seeing my friend Martina there, supporting the runners, brought a smile to my face. We were both inspired by the sight of Quinn, Will, and Jamie, each facing their own challenges in the scorching heat. Despite the tough conditions, Quinn had a huge smile on his face and asked me how my night was. I told him it was a blast and that he was doing fantastic. Will arrived feeling good but soon began to shake uncontrollably after having some broth and letting his body temperature come down. He insisted that it was normal, and we blindly trusted him. Then Jamie showed up and decided to call it quits. He had already made up his mind; he was done. He sat down and started vomiting vigorously. What a scene. It was a true ultra-experience right there, my first one and I know it won’t be my last. It taught me that perseverance is key to overcoming challenges along the journey. To many more races!
I am immensely grateful to those who made this experience so unique and unforgettable. This memory will remain with me forever, till the day I die.
