Blog With Sally

Fatal Errors and Gory Details from the Western States 100 Mile DNF by Bob Crowley

I began the Western States 100 miler on Saturday following my plan exactly.  I lined up in the rear at the start and proceeded up Squaw Valley at a nice slow pace, low heart rate.

By mile 13 I felt a twinge in my left hamstring, a harbinger that it was going to be a long day.  This happened to me at the last Vermont Trail 50 miler early on but then, as opposed to now, I was moving too quickly back then. I remained on my plan of slow and steady.  By mile 16, at Red Star Ridge all my toes were being crushed into the front of my sneakers from the relentless downhills. I could feel, in spite of a thorough lubing and taping of my feet, both my big toes were developing blisters. Another harbinger.  By mile 23, I began to back off my plan, due to the blisters now interfering with my gait. As I arrived at Duncan Canyon aid station and saw my crew for the first time, I was experiencing dead legs. The heat and altitude was working me over and I had stopped peeing to top things off. I weighed in at Robinson, mile 28, 4 pounds over my starting weight.  I was on the verge of hyponatremia yet again. I then lost my stomach and had difficulty eating any food, at a time when I most needed to ingest salty foods and potassium. So the vicious cycle continued to Miller’s Defeat where I felt the first toe blister explode, sending an inexplicable shooting pain up my leg. I could feel the blood squishing between my toes. I stopped, re-lubed my feet for the third time and pressed on, now only able only to limp. 10 minutes later the other toe exploded. Now hobbled, I limped into Dusty Corners at mile 38. By now, the lack of peeing, inability to ingest food which I’m guessing was partly a result of the altitude, heat and pain from the blisters, was becoming an issue of dehydration since I had to cut back on fluids to try and prevent the hyponatremia.  That all led to a re-bandaging of the feet which enabled me to finally run again.  From Dusty for the 5 miles to Last Chance,  I actually was moving well at 12 minute miles and a nice steady low heart rate. I had recovered.   But now the cramps began to show up, first in the hamstrings, later the quads.
I lost 7 pounds from Robinson to Last Chance, so I was getting the hyponatremia under control, even had a small pee. But I was still dehydrated and so I was forced to run the steep downhill switchbacks of the first canyon with quads ready to give out. I passed Bogie half way down and he was struggling, saying he was going to drop. I encouraged him to not give up, that he could and would recover and just keep going. I arrived at the bottom of the canyon with the sun beating directly on my back and the quads on fire. There is a river pool there in which I soaked my rear (best place on the body to bring down your core temp) for over 3 minutes. It felt wonderful. But unfortunately, the rapid drop in core body temp caused me to become nauseous and as I began the steep 15% grade climb out of the canyon I tossed my cookies. This led to me losing what few nutrients I had gained at Last Chance (2 cups of salty chicken soup) and thus the cramps began almost immediately, but this time in the quads, hamstrings, calfs and even under my feet - all at the same time. I literally had to go from tree to tree leaning on them for support or face falling off the steep trail. I had to stop seven times up to Devil’s Thumb aid, now dizzy, nauseous and cramping and out of breath. Bogie climbed past me looking good, in better spirits, now offering me assistance. But there was nothing left to do. I was perilously behind on nutrients and my body was shutting down. I still had another hour of steep, hot climbing ahead. I finally reached the top and the aid station taking 1.5 hours to make the 2 mile climb that normally takes me :45 minutes. I was sick to my stomach, dizzy, badly dehydrated, cramping in 5-6 places in my legs and even in my stomach.

I was broken and faced the longest downhill in the race, 4 miles into El Dorado then the longest climb. As I pondered my next move my left leg went numb. I couldn’t feel my toes. I have no explanation for this. I then began to yawn uncontrollably.  Then my left ear popped, like on an airplane and I couldn’t hear out of it.  Very weird.  After trying to get food and drink down unsuccessfully, I determined the danger of entering the next canyon dehydrated, with a numb leg, cramping and dizzy was probably not a good idea and reluctantly, but if I’m honest with myself, wisely dropped.Dear friend Ted Moore gave me a lift to Foresthill to meet my crew.
Ironically, I never heard from my Achilles’ heel. It was completely fine. Nor from the plantar fasciitis.
It was the ugliest ultra I’ve ever run. It was Western. The Diesel, Bob Crowley, was derailed.
I’ll be mulling this one over and over in my mind for sometime to come. It’s already begun. I went to bed at midnight and was up at 5 am this morning. I an disappointed and frustrated, but not defeated. Rounds 1, 2 and 3 go to Western. But this fight isn’t over. I’ll be back, even smarter and more determined than before.

Bob Crowley
Weston, MA