All Grit, No Quit: Beth's Inspiring AC100
And I thought I was tough.
When Beth rolled into the mile 44 Aid Station at Chilao Flats, she opened her arms, inviting her family to join her. As she got closer, we could see the layers of dirt and grime that caked her lower legs, as well as a sweat-stained hat perched atop her head and a dripping wet bandana wrapped around her neck. She’d already been through the crucible, but she wasn’t even halfway done. This was the Angeles Crest 100 Mile Endurance Run, after all.
Beth wept as she hugged her two kids and husband Rob. Her tears were silent, but these were tears of joy, love, support – and of hope and anticipation. It was touching to see, and any outsider could tell that what Beth was doing meant so much more than the 101 miles she was to cover on this day.
I was there just to pace Beth, but what I ended up witnessing was incredible, a real gift. It was a night of struggle, perseverance, vulnerability, trust, mental strength, and learning. In a nutshell, true grit, and what it means to “dig deep.”
As Beth shared that intimate moment with her family, the rest of her crew readied their next moves, eager to perform a NASCAR-quick pit stop and get Beth back out on the trails—STAT. What did she need? More electrolytes? Ginger ale? Ice? Massage? A turkey wrap?
Dee, the sage Crew Chief, grabbed the first aid kit, just in case Beth’s feet needed work. Darren opened the cooler and was ready to pull out any drink that Beth needed. Sheila grabbed Beth’s gear bag in case any change was needed. I made sure my laces were double-knotted, my handheld was topped off, and my watch was ready for Beth (yes, my contribution was light, if inconsequential).
As Beth and her family continued to embrace, a member from another team quipped, “Uhh, just so you know, this isn’t the finish!”
With that, Beth snapped back to the task at hand, and the crew attended to her with 5-star treatment, dressing a blister as they removed her shoes and changed her socks.
Meanwhile, it was time for my day to get started. As one of Beth’s two pacers, my job was to get Beth from Chilao 1 (mile 44) to halfway at Shortcut Saddle (mile 50.7), and then all way back to the aid station at mile 75.8, Islip Saddle 2, where Delia, her other pacer, would pick her up and take her to the finish. (Who said running wasn’t a team sport?)
Dreams on the Edge
Starting out at an elevation of 5,200 feet, the route from Chilao to Shortcut is a beautiful section of trails peppered with soaring ponderosa pine. The single-track goes up and down moderate rollers until runners cross a street and onto a fire road that drops into a canyon with breathtaking, 270-degree views of the San Gabriel Mountains and the L.A. basin way off in the distance.
Beth moved through the canyon with ease, clipping off cautious but steady miles. We caught up with other runners and enjoyed a party train for a good mile or so. All was going to plan.
But soon after we reached the end of the descent, Beth became nauseous. She pulled off the trail, hands on her knees. She heaved, but little came out. I waited about 10 yards in front, giving her some privacy, and time to process and regroup. I got this sense that this stop wasn’t going to be a one-time event.
Beth seemed frustrated – and for good reason. She had trained so hard for AC100. It had been on her calendar since December 2019, when her name was among the lucky few that was drawn in the lottery to run this storied race. It didn’t seem fair that an upset stomach could hamstring her efforts. But in 100-mile ultras, anything can happen, and you have to adapt.
“In my mind, it was too early to be struggling with my stomach,” Beth recalls. “It was discouraging at the time, but I was hopeful that I’d find a way to get it under control. I was trying to problem solve and think of things that could help me get my stomach to chill out. Ginger chews, ginger ale, Tums, Coke, bland foods, etc. Nothing was working, though.”
As we left Shortcut, Beth seemed to improve, but the GI issues persisted. We pulled off to the side of the trail a few times. To keep her mind off the discomfort, I asked Beth about Dave Mathews Band, her all-time-favorite group. She called some of the members – Dave, Stefan, Carter – by their first names. And it made sense, as she’s seen them in concert dozens of times, and has even met them in person. I shared the concerts I went to as a kid (Whitney Houston, Madonna, Bon Jovi, James Taylor), and where I also saw DMB live (we may have been at the same one).
Interesting nuggets of info, but those jam-band shows alone weren’t going to bring Beth back to the start/finish in Wrightwood. If anything, however, they helped the time pass as night fell and we made the 2,000 ft ascent back to Chilao 2.
We officially arrived at Chilao 2 (mile 57) at 9:37 pm, or about 1 hour later than our planned ETA. At that point, Beth had already been on the go for more than 16 hours. Those 4 hours we’d spent covering just 13 miles and 3,600 feet of elevation gain were trying – and these were relatively “easy” miles on this stout course.
Still, Beth remained focused and resolute, determined to press on.
The next two sections were marked with short, punchy climbs, and the trails were dotted with oversized boulders that could have easily been borrowed from the sets of 1950s sci-fi flicks. Though the trail was marked well with long yellow ribbons that dangled from tree branches, it would be forgivable if runners went off course. In fact, the race directors relayed this tale to runners when describing this section in the race book: “This area was a favorite hideout of horse thief, Tiburcio Vasquez, in the mid-1800s. He was able to hide full grown horses amongst the rocks, so you can see why we’d caution you not to get lost.”
While the course provided a little WOW factor as our headlamps lit up the Martian-like landscape, it didn’t make things easier for Beth (and there were no horse sightings). She tried to hang on to other runners’ shoulders as they caught up and marched passed us. But she just didn’t have it in her to keep pace. She apologized.
“Don’t worry about it, Beth,” I reminded her. “You are so strong. You trained so hard for this, and you are ready. Let’s go.”
Beth recalls how she felt at that moment: “Oh, that was so defeating. I knew that I should’ve been able to move faster, but I was really struggling. I was trained for this and felt so strong going into the race. The first 40 miles were glorious, and everything felt on point. Seeing people go past me and making it look so effortless when I was struggling felt like such a punch to the gut.”
When we arrived at the aid station at Mt. Hillyer 2 (mile 61), Beth was still on the struggle bus. This was a crew-less aid station, so I put on my best Rob and Dee hat and got her the calories needed. We then set off for Three Points.
The next section to Three Points was equally short – and just as challenging. It was only another 3 miles, but it took us an hour to cover that ground. Late into the night (it was close midnight), Beth remained as positive as she could, but a lot of her good spirits were challenged by an uncooperative body that dared Beth to quit.
As we neared Three Points, we could see the aid station pop in and out of view along the ridge as we wound up, down, and around the trail. It kind of felt like Three Points was taunting us, going, “I’m right here … oh, just kidding.” I counted down the distance remaining as we advanced, to assure Beth that we were making progress. As we got closer, I asked Beth to list what she needed. I thought it would give her something to look forward to, and a little mental gymnastics would help stimulate her mind. We landed on, “Soup broth, Imodium, yogurt, fuzzy water [aka La Croix], grilled cheese, Tylenol.”
Dee and Rob took care of Beth at Three Points, and, akin to putting on your own oxygen mask first, I took care of my needs, refilling my bottle with more Gu Roctane as I wolfed down a quesadilla and watermelon from the aid station buffet. (You could also call ultras eating contests with some running sprinkled in.)
Before we left, Dee gave me an assignment: “When we see you next at Cloudburst, I want to hear three things that are going well for Beth.”
“You got it, Dee.”
“I’m not givin’ up, givin’ up, no, not me”
On paper, Three Points to Cloudburst is runnable. Save for a short, punchy climb, the rest of the 4.8-mile section is a gradual incline, and it even meets up on the smoothly paved Angeles Crest Highway for roughly 2 miles.
Of course, “on paper” is one thing. Because even though it’s runnable, it’s no slouch: The vertical gain averages 250 feet per mile, and the section finishes at 7,025 ft above sea level (nothing comes easy at AC100!). And, when you’ve got close to 70 miles and more than 10,000 feet of elevation gain on your legs (as did Beth) – not to mention ongoing discomfort, dehydration, cramping, and a massive calorie deficit – it’s easier said than done.
Beth continued to give it her all. She put her head down and kept moving. Earlier in the day, I let Beth lead the way, and I trailed her as she made her way from aid station to aid station. As the night wore on, however, we swapped places. The goal was twofold: first, to light up the trail in front of her (safety first!); and second, to pull her along and push her to maintain pace.
I pushed only so hard, feathering my effort so that we stayed close together. For the most part, Beth was keeping up. Those miles did not come easy, however, and I could feel Beth fading. But her stubbornness, tenacity, and drive were also strong. She wasn’t going to let AC100 break her.
When we connected with the Angeles Crest Highway, Beth welcomed the change of pace.
After plodding away for hours on trails near Highway 2, setting foot on it seemed to energize her. Beth broke out a playlist on her phone, and for the next 2 miles, we sang some DMB (how could we not?), but also some Metallica and Andy Grammer. I loved watching Beth come to life.
“The music got me feeling more powerful, and I felt determined to keep moving quickly,” Beth recalls. “I started to have thoughts that things might be turning around. If I could keep this up until morning, then the sun would give me the boost I need to make it to the finish.”
One prescient moment was when “Don’t Give Up on Me” by Andy Grammer came on. Beth sang the chorus, almost at a whisper:
Cause I'm not givin' up
I'm not givin' up, givin' up, no, not yet
Even when I'm down to my last breath
Even when they say there's nothin' left
So don't give up on
I'm not givin' up
I'm not givin' up, givin' up, no, not me
Even when nobody else believes
I'm not goin' down that easily
So don't give up on me
Beth personified those lyrics and kept moving, tapping her poles on the road with the downbeat as she marched ahead. She wasn’t going to quit. And I wasn’t going to give up on her, either.
Forward Progress
At Cloudburst, the crew was ready for Beth with fuel, a bottle refill, and encouragement. It was after 2:30 am, and Beth had been moving for more than 22 hours straight. A long day, indeed, but before we came into Cloudburst 2, Beth and I agreed that we weren’t going to spend too much time at the aid station – “Don’t die in the chair,” we said.
Aid Stations are a tricky thing. While it’s important that you spend enough time there to take care of your needs, you can’t get too comfortable and overstay your welcome. For as crucial as they are, aid stations can just as easily thwart your plans and kill your race. Hence, our agreement.
With just one more 7-mile stretch before Islip Saddle 2, Beth and I got moving. She wasn’t in great shape – not by any means – but she understood what she’d signed up for, and a little suffering was expected. Though this was an “easyish” section filled primarily with road miles on Highway 2 – and a lot of them downhill – Beth’s body was not cooperating.
“Beth, let’s try to run this section,” I encouraged. “Let’s let gravity work for us.”
Beth tried, but her legs would not turn over any faster. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” So, we power hiked.
As Beth’s pacer, I felt like I’d failed her. I hadn’t kept her in good enough shape so she could take advantage of these paved downhills. It hurt even more when two other sets of runners shuffled by us. Though it was disappointing, Beth didn’t let it break her. She remained focused on her own race and reaching her own goal: getting to Wrightwood.
As we neared Islip Saddle 2, Beth grew more concerned, almost in crisis mode. Her GI issues persisted, and keeping fluids down and calories in were next to impossible. When we got to the top of steep section, Beth stopped completely. “I’m so sorry,” she broke down. “I just can’t anymore. I’m sorry that this we are going so slow…”
“Beth, there’s nothing to apologize for,” I assured her. “I’m honored to be here with you. Plus, look at the stars. It’s a beautiful night. Now, let’s get to Islip.”
Beth regrouped and carried on. The last third of the section was marked with slow miles. But on this night, it was all about forward progress, and Beth was getting it done, closing in on what would be the start of the most critical section of the day: her second summit of Mt. Baden-Powell at 9,300 ft.
After making it through the Williamson Tunnels on Highway 2, a race volunteer guided us into the aid station at Islip Saddle, where Beth’s crew was anxiously waiting for her.
At Islip, a full 24 hours after she had started her day, Beth collapsed in the chair. She looked done. She had already given it 200%. I thought of David Goggins, and his 40% rule – that when you think you are tapped out, you actually have 60% left in the tank. Well, on this day, Beth had shot well past that mark (probably before we got to Mt. Hillyer). Beth had left it all out there on the course.
By all measures, Beth was done, and we would have understood if she had called it. We would have been proud of her. But somehow, after close to 30 minutes, Beth pulled herself out of that chair. As dawn broke, she asked for her poles and stood up. She wasn’t quitting. She wasn’t going to drop. She had 25 miles to Wrightwood.
We all – and by “all” I mean everyone who was at the aid station, including volunteers, other runners, other crews, the ham radio guys – hooted and hollered as Beth and Delia exited Islip 2 and crossed the street to the trailhead for Vincent Gap 2 and her second summit of Mt. Baden Powell. It was a remarkable feat for someone who had looked fully cooked to get up out of that chair and press on. It was the embodiment of grit and determination.
As I watched Beth slowly disappear up the trail toward Baden-Powel, my heart was filled with pride, and a little disbelief. Dang, she’s gonna do it, I thought. She is so tough.
Back to Wrightwood
While my 12 hours and 32 miles with Beth were complete, my time at AC100 wasn’t. After Beth and Delia left, Darren drove me back to Wrightwood so I could volunteer at the finish, cooking breakfast and lunch for the runners and crew.
As the hours wore on, and I hadn’t heard anything from the crew, I’d check in with the timing table to see Beth’s progress. She still hadn’t checked in to Vincent Gap. I started to worry, as temps had warmed up fast, and she had been going for 30 hours straight. But at the same time, I knew deep down that Beth would still be on course fighting for it.
“She might be the toughest, most stubborn person I know,” says Darren. “100 percent.”
Finally, just before noon, Darren texted and said that Beth checked into Vincent Gap – some 18 minutes after cutoff. I was heartbroken to hear the news, but also so proud that Beth gave it everything she had.
And I mean everything. They had to pull her off the course and cut off her wristband. Because it’s just not in Beth’s DNA to stop.
“Beth is one of the most amazing runners I’ve ever crewed for,” says Dee, the crew chief. “She may not have reached that finish line, but I know that she left if all on that course. With that said, I also know that she will be back with a vengeance! I would drop everything for the privilege of crewing her to the finish.”
So would I, Beth. Because, we’re not giving up on you. Just like you didn’t give up on yourself.
UPDATE:
At 6:00 am on October 13, 2023, Beth toed the line at Kodiak 100, in rustic Big Bear Lake, CA. Some 30 hours and 100.5 miles and 17,000 feet of elevation gain and loss later, Beth COMPLETED her first 100-mile trail and mountain ultra. Congrats, Beth! There was never any doubt!
And, BONUS, she will toe the line at AC100 2024. Let’s go, BT!