2019 White Mountains 100

A couple of weeks ago, I ran the White Mountains 100, which takes place near Fairbanks, Alaska.  It's 100 miles on snow-machine trails on BLM land and one can choose to bike, ski, or run/walk the race.  There are 3 indoor checkpoints at miles 40, 60, and 80 (roughly).  There's also a water stop at mile 17, a warming tent if needed a little more than half way (which saved my freezing ass in 2013), and a trail shelter around mile 90.  The race is really well supported despite being a wilderness back country winter activity.

BACKGROUND

For background on what drew me to 100 mile runs in Alaska, here is my write-up from the Susitna 100 in 2011.  I didn't finish and had a somewhat terrifying experience (all in my head).  http://montanacoffman.blogspot.com/2011/02/susitna-100-race-report.html.   I went back and finished the race the following year without incident.  I then completed the White Mountains 100 in 2013 in 45 or so hours, mostly without incident.  That was my last attempt to run 100 miles until last year.  I got pregnant the summer following the 2013 White Mountains and have only recently started to get back into shape ("in shape" being somewhat relative).

I'm not entirely sure why I registered last year, but it is clear in hindsight that I should not have.  I didn't adequately train (or train at all for that matter) and wasn't mentally committed to the concept.  After having a baby who woke me up all night for more than a year, it has become harder to see the point of exhausting and sleep depriving myself on purpose for recreation.  I dropped out of the race last year at mile 40ish with an asthma attack and a frozen inhaler that didn't thaw for hours.  I don't think my attitude was especially good from the beginning of the race, so while I was stopped in my tracks by asthma I might have dropped anyhow.  I just had a good (mandatory) excuse.  I suppose I can liken it to the relief I felt when I learned that my child was breech and I'd need a C-Section.  I'd planned an un-medicated "natural" childbirth -- since that's a thing and it didn't really occur to me to question whether I should commit to such a thing -- but quickly realized what nonsense that was when contractions began in earnest.  The receipt of a spinal block, while obviously not part of my "plan," was such sweet relief insofar as I was excused from natural childbirth.  In any event, it didn't  bother me to be forced to drop and I left Fairbanks last March adamant that I was done with these ridiculous events and would never sign up for another one.  I really did mean it.

Sometime between last March and this fall, when the White Mountains lottery occurs, I seem to have decided I should throw my name in the hat just in case I changed my mind.  Next thing I knew, I was enthusiastically training for the race and excited to be returning.  (My training was comprised of a handful of 20-30 mile runs).  Mostly, I don't like quitting and just needed to prove to myself that I could actually still do it.  It has become painfully obvious to me now that I'm in my mid-40s that I absolutely must not only train if I want to do difficult athletic things, but I also need to generally take much better care of myself.  Since last fall I've cut back on beer, increased my running, and lost some weight (which I likely regained this past week on vacation, but I digress).  

PRE-RACE MISCELLANY

My friends Jill and Wendy were also doing the race, and we had a lot of fun before hanging out in Fairbanks at new friends Connie and Eric's house.  I was also able to see my friends Mike and Tiffany who live up there.  It was generally a good vacation separate and apart from the run.  The weather forecast was unseasonably warm, which was fine with me so long as the trail didn't get mushy.  Remarkably, the trails were remaining solid despite the near 50 degree temperatures and sunshine.

I'd trained this winter for really cold conditions - mostly because it was really cold here.  Oddly, my last long run in the Grand Canyon, where I was wet in 50 degree rain all day, turned out to be the most similar weather to the actual race (for half of it).  The warm conditions actually made it tough for me to figure out what to wear and what to bring.  This year's White Mountains 100 was sort of like two separate races.  One where I was energized and joyful, running on hard packed trail and basking in sunshine, and a second, where it was dreary and I felt ambivalent, plodding along slowly through heavy wet snow.

THE ACTUAL RACE

The first half of the race was truly enjoyable.  The sun was shining, I was making great time, and I was feeling generally great.  I was subsisting primarily on Tailwind, a sports drink that doesn't make me sick and is caloric, plus a few random other snacks I carried with me.  I had made some chocolate snacks that all melted into a big gross blob of goop and ended up being tossed.  I never bonked despite probably averaging only 100 calories/hour plus whatever I ate at the checkpoints, which probably ended up being another 1000 calories.  Near the end of the race my stomach was growling about every 30 minutes so I actually ended up eating more near the end, which is uncommon for me, but generally speaking I didn't require too much food.

I rolled into the first checkpoint before noon, which is really good for me, and rolled into the Cache Mountain Checkpoint at mile 40-ish around 5:30.  This was ahead of the unambitious plan I had sketched out for myself ahead of time which made me feel happy.  Through this entire 40 miles, I felt truly "in the moment" and enjoying myself, while also remembering how cranky I had been last year.  I spent some time running with Jill, which was fun.  She's faster than I am and she was spending less time at checkpoints so she got a couple hours ahead of me by the end.  I made it up to the highest point of the race, the Cache Mountain Divide, just as it was getting dark, which was pretty neat.  

Cache Mountain Divide

The infamous "ice lakes," which are really just huge areas of overflow, were nicely frozen and the temperatures stayed reasonable all the way to next checkpoint at Windy Gap at mile 62ish.  I rolled into Windy Gap around 12:30, had some meatball soup and whatever else was there (I forget), changed my socks and headed back out, still feeling pretty good and way ahead of schedule.  For reference, in 2013 I was at this checkpoint at least 5 or more hours later.

this is what overflow looks like (frozen)

Sometime around 2 or 3 am, it started snowing that wet sloppy kind of snow that makes everything wet and also is irritating in the light of a headlamp.  Temperatures were right around 33 or 34 and it was just sort of dark and wet.  The trail started getting softer and snow was accumulating.  Most of the section between Windy Gap and Borealis at around mile 80ish was just dark, wet, and slightly nauseating with the fat snowflakes reflecting in my headlamp.  It's much like headlights when driving in these conditions.  Annoying.  Eventually it started getting light-ish (it was so cloudy it didn't really get all that light) and I entertained myself by following Jill's footsteps, which often veered off the side of the trail.  She appeared to be falling asleep.  She was also dragging her feet.  This kept me entertained for awhile.  I also started listening to a book to distract myself from the fact that I wasn't enjoying myself as much as I had the day prior...

might as well be Montana in the winter

I got to Borealis around 8:30 or 9 in the morning.  I think.  I spent an hour there as I was at this point cold, wet, and getting really stiff.  This checkpoint had Ramen noodles which is my favorite food in the world so that was a great thing.  I made the coffee/hot chocolate that Beat had ready for me in his thermos and forced myself back out into the blech despite really not wanting to go.  

The last section had the advantage of having distinct parts: the section to the trail shelter, the section from the trail shelter to the top of the Wickersham Wall, which basically looks like a wall and feels like one too, and from the top of the Wall to the finish.  I continued listening to the vapid "China Rich Girlfriend" until I found myself at the finish.  Until her tracks were erased by a snowmachine,  I continued to follow Jill's tracks in amusement.  I hate to admit this but the audio book really saved me from sinking into any real suffering.  It seems a little like cheating, since most 100 milers REQUIRE some level of deep suffering and misery.  I never felt more than a little uncomfortable during the race, and I credit it to the audible book which I started listening to as soon as I started asking myself WHEN WILL THIS END?  Which, by the way, was about 7 hours before it ended.

I finished in about 33:50, though the official results have me finishing half an hour later.  This was about 12 hours faster than 2013.  In hindsight, I'm not sure how I was able to take 12 additional hours, but I did.  Jill, Wendy, Beat, and Jorge were all at the finish waiting for me, which was really nice.  I had a burger and snuggled a puppy and we headed back to Corrine's for showers and more food and sleep.

me finishing, courtesy of Jill Homer

GEAR

I'm always interested in peoples' gear - if you're like me, this is for you.  I left my pole pogies behind and only even wore gloves during the second half of the race.  My gloves got soaked so I'm glad I also had overmitts and chemical handwarmers.  I wore a short sleeve Lululemon swiftly, long sleeve Arc-teryx vertices hoodie, which has a built in balaclava, and a pullover rain jacket for the wet part.  I brought a light Mountain Hardwear ghost whisperer puffy, which I never needed, as well as Jorge's Mountain Hardwear ghost whisperer windbreaker, which I did wear some.  I also worse Jorge's Skinfit pants that zip down the sides, which were so awesome and perfect.  It's never good to try new gear on race day, but I lucked out.  When it got colder I wore my warmer fuzzy hat.  I brought a Cold Avenger face mask in case the wind picked up or the temperatures dropped, and had some safety gear an an extra shirt.  My layers ended up being just right though I'm glad I had the puffy just in case.  I wore GoreTex high ankle shoes, which I think gave me a million blisters an heat rash on my ankles, and DryMax socks.  I wore Khatoola microspikes from Cache to Windy Gap due to the ice at the ice lakes, and used my trekking poles most of the race.

THOUGHTS

This was my sixth (?) 100 mile finish, and one of only two where I didn't find myself experiencing any particular level of suffering.  I barely even hallucinated.  I'm not sure if I'm just now starting to get the hang of the distance, or whether it's the part where I trained.  Either way, while I had a great time and in the abstract would like to do it again, it seems a good place to put an end to running 100 mile races.  It takes a lot of time to train and the training particularly wrecks weekends.  It's best to end on a high note I think.  I'm glad that I can, after all, still do it.  I suppose that doesn't mean I should.  I can quit anytime.