Wanted: For Trail Fraud, Ultra Larceny and Attempted EndurancideTodd Fanady (aka Bonk Boy, Sir Walkalot, Trail Guano)
Chuck Sohaskey (aka The Snail, The Walker, A-Wreck)
Below is his confession: Laura was the lucky one. She got sick a couple of days before the Mt Disappointment 50K and had to miss it. It was rather sad because we had trained pretty hard for this race. We had all run the sections of the course a couple of times and, to be even better prepared, we ran it during the heat of day. In fact we trained so hard we almost killed Emmett (see last month’s newsletter).
On race day me and Todd Fanady left Long Beach at 4:00 am and drove to the summit of Mt Wilson where the race started. The race started well for me. I ran up between Mt Disappointment and San Gabriel Peak and then down to Red Box. I got to that aid station right on schedule. That was the last time I felt good.
Next was a long technical down hill section of 5 miles. That is when I started having stomach problems. This was followed by spleen problems, thymus problems, muscle problems, brain problems and diaper rash. By the time I got to the start of the climb up Mt Josephine I knew I was in trouble. About half way up that climb I realized I really couldn’t run any more. 10 miles into a 31 mile race and it was all over for me. I got to the top of that mountain because there really wasn’t anywhere else to go.
Finally I got back to Red Box. I ran into Chuck Weissman at the aid station and he was feeling about the same as me. We decided we could push each other and finish. So off we went. From the aid station it was 5 more miles to the bottom of Mt Wilson and a final 5 miles uphill climb of 2,600 ft. Yeah I was really looking forward to that last part.
Did I mention the next 5 miles were in the sun? I left the final aid station and started the final climb at about the time I was finishing this race last year. Finally I saw the radio towers on top of Wilson and I knew I was close. I passed the guy taking pictures who said to me in a very sarcastic voice “nice sprint”. I was just happy he could tell I was moving. I finished in just under 8 hrs trying not to puke on anyone. 2 hrs worse than last year which I think entitles me to a “Most Disappointed” award of some kind.
Wanted: For Trail Fraud, Ultra Larceny and Attempted Endurancide
Todd Fanady (aka Bonk Boy, Sir Walkalot, Trail Guano)
It's like this, see... Chuck Sohaskey, Laura Chaides and me was training in the mountains all summer for the Mt. Disappointment 50K... see. We trained for the hills, for the distance and for the heat and we were ready for the big caper. But they don't call it Mt. Disappointment for nuttin' and a couple days before the race Laura got sick and the doctor banned her from running... she put out a hit on the mook! I decided that since I'd surely be hiking the last steep 5 miles up Mt. Wilson, and prolly couldn't jack a ride, I'd run the first 10 miles of mostly downhills fast. So I did, and about an hour into it I even passed that slo- mo poser Chuck. Obviously, he must'a packed his crack pipe, cuz an hour later, he blazed past me going up Josephine grade like some kinda flying monkey. It must have been the fast start, the heat, or prolly George Bush, but for some reason I soon bonked hard and couldn't keep from being passed by every sniveling trail-weenie on the mountain... that rumplestiltskin dude with the walker was too much tho... he accidententally fell of a cliff, darn. At about mi 19 I could no longer run even the downhills, so when the Brownie troop dragged me into Redbox aid station at mile 21, I officially dropped from the race. But then, as several of us drop weenies sat waiting for the wimp wagon to haul our DNF butts back to the start, Hwa Ja Andrade came through the aid station, kicked dirt on us, and ran back out onto the trail laughing. That was it!!! How could I accept my first ever DNF when a lady in her sixties was still running? So I cancelled my drop, filled my water bottles with Schlitz and Ripple and hit the trail. Amazingly, my energy came back enough that I ran about half way up Wilson talking smack to about a dozen slo-pokes and collapsed heat-strokers on the way. Then, all of a sudden, the trail-gods sent a thunderbolt of bonk straight through me and I sputtered, yelped and crashed into quivering heap of race refuse. As all the people I passed, passed me back on the steep incline, using my head for a foothold, I realized I must be suffering a case of heat exhaustion, and therefore had plausible denial in my favor. With this mental pick-me-up, I picked my various parts back up and managed to limp to the top of Mt. Wilson and eventually, over the finish line. I was hoping to beat my last year's time (and secretly Sohaskey) but wound up finishing 2.5 hours slower. Thanks though to Hwa Ja's inspiration, and calling me a "trail-punk", at least I finished! WANTED: For Trail Fraud, Ultra Larceny and Attempted Endurancide Todd Fanady (aka Bonk Boy, Sir Walkalot, Trail Guano) It's like this, see... Chuck Sohaskey, Laura Chaides and me was training in the mountains all summer for the Mt. Disappointment 50K... see. We trained for the hills, for the distance and for the heat and we were ready for the big caper. But they don't call it Mt. Disappointment for nuttin' and a couple days before the race Laura got sick and the doctor banned her from running... she put out a hit on the mook! I decided that since I'd surely be hiking the last steep 5 miles up Mt. Wilson, and prolly couldn't jack a ride, I'd run the first 10 miles of mostly downhills fast. So I did, and about an hour into it I even passed that slo- mo poser Chuck. Obviously, he must'a packed his crack pipe, cuz an hour later, he blazed past me going up Josephine grade like some kinda flying monkey. It must have been the fast start, the heat, or prolly George Bush, but for some reason I soon bonked hard and couldn't keep from being passed by every sniveling trail-weenie on the mountain... that rumplestiltskin dude with the walker was too much tho... he accidententally fell of a cliff, darn. At about mi 19 I could no longer run even the downhills, so when the Brownie troop dragged me into Redbox aid station at mile 21, I officially dropped from the race. But then, as several of us drop weenies sat waiting for the wimp wagon to haul our DNF butts back to the start, Hwa Ja Andrade came through the aid station, kicked dirt on us, and ran back out onto the trail laughing. That was it!!! How could I accept my first ever DNF when a lady in her sixties was still running? So I cancelled my drop, filled my water bottles with Schlitz and Ripple and hit the trail. Amazingly, my energy came back enough that I ran about half way up Wilson talking smack to about a dozen slo-pokes and collapsed heat-strokers on the way. Then, all of a sudden, the trail-gods sent a thunderbolt of bonk straight through me and I sputtered, yelped and crashed into quivering heap of race refuse. As all the people I passed, passed me back on the steep incline, using my head for a foothold, I realized I must be suffering a case of heat exhaustion, and therefore had plausible denial in my favor. With this mental pick-me-up, I picked my various parts back up and managed to limp to the top of Mt. Wilson and eventually, over the finish line. I was hoping to beat my last year's time (and secretly Sohaskey) but wound up finishing 2.5 hours slower. Thanks though to Hwa Ja's inspiration, and calling me a "trail-punk", at least I finished! WANTED: For Trail Fraud, Ultra Larceny and Attempted Endurancide Todd Fanady (aka Bonk Boy, Sir Walkalot, Trail Guano) It's like this, see... Chuck Sohaskey, Laura Chaides and me was training in the mountains all summer for the Mt. Disappointment 50K... see. We trained for the hills, for the distance and for the heat and we were ready for the big caper. But they don't call it Mt. Disappointment for nuttin' and a couple days before the race Laura got sick and the doctor banned her from running... she put out a hit on the mook! I decided that since I'd surely be hiking the last steep 5 miles up Mt. Wilson, and prolly couldn't jack a ride, I'd run the first 10 miles of mostly downhills fast. So I did, and about an hour into it I even passed that slo- mo poser Chuck. Obviously, he must'a packed his crack pipe, cuz an hour later, he blazed past me going up Josephine grade like some kinda flying monkey. It must have been the fast start, the heat, or prolly George Bush, but for some reason I soon bonked hard and couldn't keep from being passed by every sniveling trail-weenie on the mountain... that rumplestiltskin dude with the walker was too much tho... he accidententally fell of a cliff, darn. At about mi 19 I could no longer run even the downhills, so when the Brownie troop dragged me into Redbox aid station at mile 21, I officially dropped from the race. But then, as several of us drop weenies sat waiting for the wimp wagon to haul our DNF butts back to the start, Hwa Ja Andrade came through the aid station, kicked dirt on us, and ran back out onto the trail laughing. That was it!!! How could I accept my first ever DNF when a lady in her sixties was still running? So I cancelled my drop, filled my water bottles with Schlitz and Ripple and hit the trail. Amazingly, my energy came back enough that I ran about half way up Wilson talking smack to about a dozen slo-pokes and collapsed heat-strokers on the way. Then, all of a sudden, the trail-gods sent a thunderbolt of bonk straight through me and I sputtered, yelped and crashed into quivering heap of race refuse. As all the people I passed, passed me back on the steep incline, using my head for a foothold, I realized I must be suffering a case of heat exhaustion, and therefore had plausible denial in my favor. With this mental pick-me-up, I picked my various parts back up and managed to limp to the top of Mt. Wilson and eventually, over the finish line. I was hoping to beat my last year's time (and secretly Sohaskey) but wound up finishing 2.5 hours slower. Thanks though to Hwa Ja's inspiration, and calling me a "trail-punk", at least I finished!
APPREHENDED: Emmett Rahl (aka Tall Drink of No Water, Sir Cramps-A-Lot, Heat of the Moment)
I never saw it coming. In my past attempts at 50K and 50 miles, I have had problems, but never quite like this. I got my requisite 3 hours of sleep and then headed off for my carpool in Altadena at 5:30am. The temperature was cool, but unfortunately not cold, and due to certain circumstances, the race started 15 minutes late. 15 minutes I can never get back… for you see, it’s never going to be as cool in the evening as it is now…
The first 11.2 miles went better than I expected and I ran very conservatively – just around 2 hours. The next stretch (2.5 miles uphill) I walked easily (another hour) and I felt good. I jogged and walked the next 5 miles and everything was, well, hunky-dory.
All of the sudden, the temperature skyrocketed and I was HOT! I sat down in the shade and tried to give myself some energy, more water (yech, hot), but nothing seemed to help. All the older runners (60s and 70s – groovy!) passed me, gave me candy, and took note of my number. I finally crested the hot hills and continued down to the aid station.
When I got there, they asked if I wanted to quit, but really, I was just dehydrated. Did I want to run the shorter distance? Not really, but I promised to take it one segment at a time. I was 2-1/2 hours ahead of the cut-off, in any case. I took the next 5 miles (in the sun) fairly well. A lot better than last year, when I was talking to myself in an unknown languge. The aid station informed me that I was still 2-1/2 hours ahead of the cut-off, so I opted to continue on the 50 mile quest.
Now 3 miles of tortuous uphill (think the 2nd Street bridge, only rocky, and 80 degrees heat). I was starting to get minor cramps in my feet – stuff I could deal with, though. I walked with Summer, a nice girl from Burbank, I think, and we decided we would finish, unless they pulled us (and our lifeless corpses?) from the course. She and I played a game of Ultra tag – “I’m going to catch you!”) I reached the next aid station about 15 minutes ahead of her, and I felt decent. My heel lifts had turned around in my shoe, but I decided to wait until I got back (1.8 miles RoundTrip) to the aid station. That’s when the painful cramps began. These are cramps I hope never to feel again – from the tips of my toes to my waist – everything cramped.
I shortened my stride to lessen the possibility, and when I got back to the aid station, when I attempted to fix my shoes, the cramps set in again. I stayed there for 45 minutes trying to rehydrate (and volunteers massaging my legs, feet and toes – we were back of the pack, and they had nothing better to do – apparently).
I set out on my way, with a 45 minute cushion, and trailed by the clean-up crew, who also were motivating me to go a little bit faster, if I could. I kept losing more and more time, just going downhill, and then the 6+ miles of uphill began (at times as steep as Hill Street in Signal Hill), in close to 100 degree heat.
The cramps continued and I became less and less sure I could outrun the time. At 6:50pm, a Jeep and two course officials awaited us around the next bend. I was 2.5 miles from the Mile 40.9 aid station, and the cut-off was in 5 minutes. Summer and I wanted to try and set a new world record, but they folded us into the Jeep anyway and drove us back to the start.
Something like 30% of the starters either switched to the easier distance or dropped out. The diehards I tell that I “DNFed,” while I tell everyone else – “I ran 38 miles on Saturday.” See you when I get out of the clink.