Cascade Crest

Cascade Crest was last weekend. A great race, a long race--one hundred miles. Cascade Crest is a big loop around the Snoqualmie Pass/Lake Kachess area, with 50 miles or so on each side of I-90. It starts at 10 AM on Saturday, the last weekend in August, and the finish cutoff is 6 PM the following day. There is over 20k in elevation gain, and the same in loss. The organization and volunteers are amazing, and it is one of the best races, if not the best, in the Pacific Northwest.
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I had a tough day, but I finished, which is all I really wanted to do, having DNFed my last 100 attempt. I didn’t talk a lot about this race beforehand with friends, or participate in the training runs, opting for the North Cascades instead. I knew though that it would take an acute injury of some type to prevent a finish, because of the earlier DNF. I did get a blister the size of Texas on my right heel, and on some days that might’ve been a deal-breaker, or the Sunday sun, which absolutely slayed me, but somehow I managed.
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So—how’d I do? My finish time was 31:12, exactly the same time as two years ago. I was third from last, not very fast. I do have a buckle though, and I’m pretty happy about it. The buckle is very disco. Thank you to everyone who helped me get it.
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The weather on Saturday was perfect, NW gray, but I struggled from the get go, because my right shoe was cutting into my heel, ever slightly. I probably went 95 miles with a blister on my heel, and “blister” does not do this carnivore justice. It’s really bad, still. I also ate a ton at the pre-race breakfast at the Easton fire station, partly because the food was good, and partly in anticipation of a lengthy adventure. Fuel is good and all, but my systems were taxed, digesting breakfast, while trying to motor up the 5000 foot high Goat Peak, in the first 10 miles. I also managed to drop and bust a camera during this section. Life is so good.
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My favorite part of this run is the 25 or so miles on the Pacific Crest Trail, which begins somewhere around Mile 20. The Pacific Crest Trail is a trail going from Mexico to Canada. This section is single track, with thigh high huckleberry bushes, with some serious rockhopping in places. Lots of bees. The trees are tall, the views across ridges sometimes long. It’s a lonesome stretch, which is why I like it.
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Stampede Pass, Mile 33, was much anticipated by me for many miles. I didn’t have a crew, but this is the first drop bag site. My friend Rich happened to be volunteering there, and he set me up good. I was slightly spacey, and he pointed out I was shaking. Good catch. Dry clothes, half a Subway for dinner, and I was outta there. Go Terps.
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I wanted to get as far down the PCT as possible before dark, when things slow down. Once it got dark, I tried my headlamp, and--whoomp, there is is--one was busted. I tested them beforehand and put in new batteries--I have no idea. Fortunately, I had two extras. Good thinking, Lincoln. Soup at Meadow Mountain—thanks Scott T. and friends; a nice section with TC; and then two pierogie specials from the Seattle Run Co. at Ollalie Meadows.
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After Ollalie, the course makes its way over to Hyak Aid Station, the second drop bag site, at Mile 53. To get there, the next section used to go through a two mile pitch dark tunnel, but this was closed this year due to safety reasons. This year, we had the re-route over the Hyak ski slopes. It sucked. For me, at least. It was good, necessary even, and hard. Character building and all that blah blah blah. But at 12 midnight, in the cold mist, I wasn’t feeling it one bit, as I kicked rocks hard and lost toenails, one by one. That’s part of the 100 mile program, I get it, blah blah yadi yadi yadi. I kept on.
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Hyak was abuzz at 1:00 AM. Folks in Claus outfits. Rich was there again, and he totally set me up. I knocked down some soup, and got out of there pretty quick. The next 7 or so miles are logging roads, all up. I turned off my headlamp and marched, jogging occasionally, through the aggressive mist. I didn’t go heavy on caffeine, relying more on the caffeine from my Gu. What is the plural of Gu? Gus?
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Once up top, it’s another 7 or so down to Lake Kachess. I kept steady through all this time, not fast, but just doing what felt right, slingshotting back and forth with some friends. The stars came out around 4:30 AM. Eastern Washington clear skies are great.
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I was hoping to change socks at Lake Kachess, but no luck, since I hadn’t packed any, duh. I had a hole in the toe of my sock by this point, and my right heel was trashed. Lame. Kendall gave me a solid hello, and Eric B. was awesome, doing a quick inventory on my dropbag, which turned out to be pretty empty on things I needed. I hit the Trail from Hell, and actually was into it, hopping logs, jumping rocks, grabbing roots, with gorgeous Kachess to the right for the next 6 miles. I spent a lot of time in my teens at Kachess with my cousins, waterskiing, drinking gagmont, and I don’t know what else.
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I hit Mineral Creek around 8 AM. I did the complete pit stop here, finally, changing shirt, socks, getting food, putting on sunscreen, Vaseline, and whatever else. I tend to approach these long events more like a backpacker than a racer, making sure I have everything before setting out, and not worrying about the extra minute or two.
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The next 7 miles are up, a beautiful slog, up up to No Name Ridge. Somewhere on the three thousand foot climb, the sun came out and I began to fall apart. I just don’t do that well with sun. I kept on. Once on No Name Ridge, I jogged where I could, hiked most of the time. The Kachess Ridge Trail is known for Mt. Thorpe and the Cardiac Needles. And the views. The views are great. The Needles are climbs, steep climbs, but not that bad really, but for the fact they’re 85 some miles in. Attitude. The sun was absolutely killing me though. The views from Thorpe are fantastic, with Rainier in the distance, Lake Kachess in the foreground, and wildflowers up close. Check out Glenn’s photos.
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The final 11 miles of the run are pretty quick if you have it, and doable if you don’t. I proved the latter true, as I really really struggled to the finish, doing an old man’s trot, a dead man’s walk. I didn’t want to eat, or drink, and I was worried how I might react to an endurolyte pill. I had no spit in my mouth, and my stomach felt like it wanted to puke. But I kept on, and usually the incline was slightly down, and that helped some. I came in to Mile 95 an hour or two later than expected, and I was truly worried I had sun stroke. I was a total wasteoid. Bandur and Michael C. saved me though, pouring water down my back, putting ice in my cap, and sending me off. For the final few miles, I jogged, I hiked, I did the powerwalk thing where you swing your arms. Some more people passed me.
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About a half mile out, Rich was there, again!, and he brought it home with me. The finish line was absolutely awesome, with Charlie C., RD with Audrey, on the microphone, and many friends there cheering me on, and later, visiting with me, looking out for my well-being. Very cool, and thank you. Once I crossed that line, I beelined directly for the fire station, to be out of the sun, and I spent the next hour in a chair with a bag of ice on my head, a frozen can of Blackcherry Shasta in my lap, and my feet in a paint bucket full of cold water.
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The National Anthems

Goat Peak

Runner in the Mist

Early ridgeline after Goat Peak