Going into the San Diego 100 I was well prepared. I’d put in consistent miles and had a good dry run during the Lost Boys 50 in April. But as well prepared as one can be, you’re still never completely ready for what 100 miles will throw at you. Especially when you go at it alone.

Since I’ve recapped this race twice before – once as a DNF and once with minutes to spare – I want to focus more on the uniqueness of running the race solo. In prior races, I often found myself relieved and excited when I would get halfway and get a pacer to help keep me going. I wondered how things would fair if I didn’t have that luxury.

Race Day

The first portion of the race was really enjoyable. The trails of the SD100 had become my primary running trails in San Diego. With this being my third time running the race, they were comfortable and there were little surprises. I took things relatively easy and just tried to soak in as much of the race as I could. There is just something so freeing about running through the great outdoors.

Before I knew it I had reached Sunrise aid station and was in and out quickly. As predicted, it was starting to warm up fast and the next stretch was sure to slow me down, which it did, and by the time I reached Pioneer Mail my time in the bank had started to diminish, and I was starting to feel the effects of the heat.

The descent down to Pine Creek Aid was rough. Real rough. I walked most of it and was out of water. It took me awhile at the bottom to get my head right. After some time at the aid station I started feeling better and ready to head up Noble Canyon.

As I climbed Noble I could tell this was going to be a decision point for a lot of us. While not right up on cutoffs, time was still a concern and the climb was really taking it out of us all.

As I arrived at Penny Pines I had a decision to make. And I chose to push it and keep going. I was in. Out. And on my way. Quickly.

As things got dark I pulled out the headlamp and continued on, before arriving at Red Tail Roost. I saw a few friends there who were rooting me on, which gave me the spark I needed to keep moving forward.

It was at this point I realized that I was still moving, but not picking up any time. The pressure of being up against cutoffs with 50+ miles to go was stressing me out, but I continued on, pushing where I could.

The climb down to Cibbet’s Flat was a killer! It was a new addition to the course and one that really took its toll on everyone. I knew it was going to be another clutch point of the race.

A light up ahead 

As I got down to Cibbet’s Flat I was greeted by Matthew – a fellow runner whom I had come to know through various events. His enthusiasm and willingness to help met out was just the spark I needed. I had only come in with 15 minutes to spare. I downed some soup and continued back up the way I had come down.

On my way up I saw people still descending, as well as people climbing up. Their states of mind seem to correlate to the direction they were heading. With cutoffs now a real threat, we were all focused on moving forward as best we could. We’d hit the point where you dig in, or drop. I put my head down and, although my mind was racing, focused on the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other.

I arrived at Todd’s Cabin with 10 minutes to spare. As I left Todd’s and started heading back towards Penny Pines, the sun started to come up, giving me a sense of rejuvenation I hadn’t experienced since the day before. I’d survived the night, and a new day was about to begin.

Time was of the essence when I arrived at Penny Pines, as I was still very close to the cutoff time. I saw my friend Willy, a friend whom I’d shared the trail with many times. He handed me a breakfast burrito and told me “you can’t stay here!”

Feeling better after eating the burrito, my pace improved and I started moving better than I had in hours. It was now mid-morning and I was some 80 miles in.

Getting back to Sunrise, I knew that I had banked some time and, barring any huge blow-ups, was going to finish. As I left Sunrise I was warned that it was going to get hot, quick.

And it did.

I kept moving. Slowly but surely, I continued to head towards the finish. I linked up with a few other runners who were moving slowly due the heat, but few words were exchanged. We were all pretty deep in our heads.

It was shortly after noon before the lodge came into sight. That was it. I could see it. The finish was literally in sight. I was going to run my first solo 100 miler…and it was going to be one of my strongest finishes yet!

I ended up crossing in 31:08. The day (and night…and subsequent day), felt more like a dream than anything else. I guess that’s expected when you’re running solo; a lot less interaction with others made for some very quiet and introspective miles.

But I learned something equally important in this race. Even though I ran the race solo, I was never really alone out there.

I had a crew with me in my mind and heart the entire time. My wife Christina, our soon to be daughter, my family and friends – many people accompanied me on the run; some of whom only exist in my mind as memories anymore.

Sharing the miles with all of them is how I finished. There’s no doubt about that.

Post Race Thoughts

For a mid-packer, running this race solo was a big deal for me. It was a finish that ranks highly in my mind and will for years to come. While I can’t pinpoint exactly where my mind went for a lot of the race, I do know I spent in an introspective state, revisiting times, people and things from various points in my life, all of which played a role in my being out on the trail alone.

While our past doesn’t dictate our future, it does play a big role in how we approach the present. For me, this run was an opportunity to come face-to-face with some things that I had worked hard to move past and overcome. I’d say progress was made in that regard.