Rio Del Lago 100 Mile Pace Report
“Yuji can’t make it”… the voice cackled from the other end of the telephone, and almost immediately a smile broke on this end.
“I fucking love that guy” I exclaimed still in bed, bleary-eyed.
“The fuck you mean?!”
“Wohoo!!”
This is the story of Saurabh’s first 100-mile race. A 29 hour mud-fest full of fun, poetry, and pure fucking awesomeness!
I had been looking forward to this for a while now, and kinda funny for more reasons than I’d like to admit here. I don’t mean to be unnecessarily cryptic, just a few important things needed my attention and somehow Rio graduated to the top. The reasons could be several, from not having raced in a while, to craving that atmosphere, to missing running. But now that I think of it, I think I just wanted to be there with my friend for his first 100 miler.
The dude on the other end was Saurabh and we finally settled on the crew, pacers and other logistics. Everything was set. Or so we thought.
Mile 44. Overlook.
I impatiently waited at mile 44 among a carnival of runners’ friends, family soaking in the atmosphere in the rain. It had been raining since the start of the race now, it had been almost 9 hours. At around 3 PM Saurabh sauntered in to cheers of people and I discovered later how awful one’s own sound sounds like when recorded.
All systems green! Legs felt fresh. We quickly grabbed a bite and started to run. A few miles downhill, looking at maps, next aid-stations, more information and running into some familiar faces exchanging high-5ves and all that fun weather talk.
Auburn evening was soggy, the sun was soft and sky crimson, around 6 PM head-lamps came out. We were making good time, chatting and almost running 11:30 min/mile. Everything was going according to plan.
Well, it was almost time for Goat Hill. That fucking thing is a mellow 40% grade; muddy, slippery, you get down on all fours or risk slipping back taking a few other guys and gals with you. How many times have I ran in a forest carrying Vaseline for another man’s crotch? A few times a month maybe, duh?. This was different though. A few passing runners curiously inquired why I had a blob of Vaseline on a stick in my hand while I ran behind this badass dude.
“It’s for some fun business later” I chuckled.
Saurabh had been chafing, and chafing bad, stopping every 2–3 miles slapping a generous serving of Vaseline on his nether regions. I had the responsibility of carrying it with me and with it came opportunity of making a shit ton of gay jokes.
Mile 70. No Hands Bridge.
We had been running for about 8 hours now and about to hit another aid-station. Being pumped with the running atmosphere I turned my tail light on and moved a few paces ahead of Saurabh giving both of us an equitable amount of booty-admiration time.
The Graveyard Shift
Night running on trails makes it pretty obvious why it’s tough to go without a pacer in conditions like that. A significant amount of effort boils down to mental toughness, I can’t imagine how much tougher it’d be to have those many miles on the legs to stay on course and keep going. I quietly admired the involved badassery with occasional reminders of nutrition. Well, maybe not too quietly. I enjoy poetry and humming old Hindi music and occasionally “sing” that to myself on long runs when alone. Unsure in he beginning if it’d get annoying, soon I gave in the urge to humm softly a few personal favourites. The night went on and so did the running, walking, occasional jokes and laughter. I felt a resolute calm setting in the night and in Saurabh.
Mile 74.5 Back to Overlook
My shift came to an end and I gave my spare shorts to Saurabh to ease the chafing. They were orange in color. I rushed to the hotel to catch some sleep before rushing back to assume my crewing duties. While these 2 enjoyed running together I was subjected to a hot shower and a bed. It wasn’t fair on me but each one of had to make sacrifices. I let them have a field day and bought fries to Rattlesnake bar. I think I miscalculated the timing and missed the duo by a whisker. Shit, I hope everything was okay I murmured in consternation. I turned around, having missed my friends, and quickly dug in the bag of fries. They were still warm and so good. This is indeed a night of sacrifices.
Mile 100
29 hours after the start of the race, I saw him over the bridge running to the finish line apparently mustering everything that was left in his legs. Saurabh overcame a century distance and crap ton of chafing with planning and grit. The best thing? The dude smiled through the 100 miles, finally crossed the finish line and earned that Buckle.
Post-race
We drove back to the hotel room when in the elevator Saurabh had trouble staying upright with his entire body groaning. I remarked to a gentleman that he had just ran his first half marathon. He promptly congratulated Saurabh on the apparent gargantuan effort of 13.1 miles. “Bravo!” he exclaimed. I felt a kick to the ass coming but luckily he chose to nod back in appreciation instead. We caught some rest before starting back to our homes soon after.
In November, 2016 when I met Saurabh on an early morning trail run in Ed Levin park I remembered in the first few sentences talking about how triathlons were such individual efforts and I didn’t see them as much of a camaraderie building exercise. (For those who don’t know he has finished over 7x full ironman races). When I look back I am unsure if that’s a great conversation starter for a first meeting. I remembered clearly he replied back that that’s the reason I do trail runs. After 1 year time I understood that night what it meant to enjoy camaraderie on trail runs; how much happiness lies in helping people achieve their goals and watching them become an incredibly strong athlete and a person. Over time I’ve felt that life’s basic fundamentals are simple and can be applied to all walks. Helping people, sharing, giving and receiving is a central part of it all I reckon.
For the full race report check out: http://runr.in/post/167345963068/race-report-rio-del-lago-2017
