Spectating at the Western States Endurance Run

It was early evening, but the heat still lay heavily on the Placer High School track. The crowd cheered, the cowbell symphony in full swing, and Jim Walmsley slowly spun around just short of the finish line with arms raised, waving and smiling in honest appreciation of the adulation.

"What the hell," I exclaimed to no one in particular, "he's not even sweating."

Walmsley had just won the Western States Endurance Run 100-mile trail race for the 4th time, looking like he hadn't even warmed up yet, much less run 100 miles in the heat. He hit the tape at a casual walk, arms raised, thumbs up, wearing his signature white Hoka bucket cap. It had been a hotly (both competition and weather) contested race for the better part of 90 miles until Walmsley finally distanced himself from his nearest competitors.

I was working on my spectating skills at the 51st running of the race, the oldest 100-mile trail run in the world. States Week, as they call it, had begun three days prior (not quite a week at only four days) in Palisades Village, Olympic Valley, Tahoe. The village is cute and quaint, a copy of a ski town in the Swiss Alps. This week, instead of skis and parkas, there were runners of all shapes and sizes. Everything from the beefy, tatted cross fitters, to the lanky, storkish striders. The "village" is built around a central event plaza, surrounded by parking lots on two sides, and ski lifts on the other two. It has all the facilities you'd expect in a ski village: clothing shops, ski rentals, hotels, restaurants, bars, ice cream, and spas.

States Week

On the first day of the four-day 'week', Thursday the 27th, there were presentations, interviews, elite runners wandering around, and Hoka giving out stuff. Hoka is the big sponsor of the race and one of the more popular trail running shoe companies. Everything is Hoka during States Week. There are Hoka branded chairs to sit on in the event plaza, Hoka apparel customization trailers, Hoka banners, Hoka cowbells getting handed out like Halloween candy, Hoka stores in Hoka pop-up tents, Hoka pre-race interview shows, and Hoka shakeout runs.

The Village, Expo, and Escarpment

I wandered around Palisades Village, looking at some of the expo tents. One of them was looking to collect urine. I would have happily donated some--I make it every day after all and mostly just get rid of it--but they only wanted ultra-runner urine during the race. It turns out it was a study about kidney damage in ultras. I saw several of the interview shows, which took place on a stage set up at one end of the event plaza, but had to take breaks because, even though it wasn't all that hot, the sun at this altitude likes to cook you.

Later in the afternoon, I went to the Olympic Valley Event Center where I saw several presentations. The first was Crewing a Western States Runner. I wasn't crew, but it was open to everyone. Or, at least, nobody told me to go away. As a general suggestion for States spectating, you should always defer to the crews of the runners. This is only really an issue at some of the more impacted aid stations where parking and shuttles can get crowded. In this case, there were plenty of seats and I sat way in the back. The final presentation of the afternoon was the sports science presentation. They have a vibrant sports science program at Western States and if you're a sports science nerd, like me, I highly recommend seeing these presentations. One of which was about the kidney study done by the urine collectors.

Friday; The Day Before

On Friday morning, the day before the race, Hoka held their "High Camp Challenge", a race up the first three steep, hard miles of the race course. It was free for anyone and included bib numbers, a pancake breakfast at the top, and a nice gondola ride back to the start (the gondola ran at certain times during States Week and was open to anyone). Who doesn't love a free pancake breakfast, but I chose to sleep in because I wouldn't be sleeping much in the following two nights. Also, I planned to go up that same trail to watch the sunset from the ridge above the ski resort, known as the escarpment.

I spent the early afternoon hanging out with my friend Pen, waiting with unreasonable optimism (or so Christine, Pen's crew chief, told me), hoping she would be getting off the waitlist and into the race. She and the four others above her on the list were standing by, ready to race, with gear, race plans, and crews, all set to do this thing. One of them had come from Sweden. In the end, when the entry list was finalized, only one of these five made it into the race.

After registration closed, there was a runner's meeting in the event plaza. They went over necessary information, like medical advice; introduced the elites; talked about the course conditions and the weather; and explained crew rules and how to get help. Once the runner meeting was over, the expo day was done and all the runners left for their last night of carbo-loading and to try to get what little sleep they could. I, on the other hand, had some course spectating recon to do and a sunset to chase.

Your first choice as a spectator is where to be when the race starts. There are three basic options: start line, escarpment, or sleep in and catch up with the runners after breakfast and coffee. It's nice to be at the start line. It's the beginning of the drama and the realization or dashing of dreams. But, honestly, it's not like the start of a 100-meter dash. A bunch of runners, trotting, mostly casually, up the hill in a centipede of headlights in the dark. The start line is where I was this year and I'm glad I did it once, but next year I think I'll opt for the escarpment.

Option two, the escarpment, four miles into the race, the highest point on the course, and where the wilderness begins. Timing-wise, it corresponds closely with sunrise, which is worth it in and of itself. The challenge is that you have to get up really early to beat the runners to the top, around 3:00 am depending on how fast you hike. And your options for coffee this early are minimal.

The final option, sleep in and catch the runners later on in the race. But come on, you're here for the race, forgo a little sleep to cheer them on. But if you must…

I began my hike to the escarpment a little after 6 pm Friday afternoon. My timing was pretty good, it took about two hours to do the four-mile hike (the next morning Rob Farvard would run it in less than half the time), and I made it with a few minutes of daylight left. Those first four miles of the race are hard. Really hard. Four miles and 2500 feet of climbing from start line to the escarpment top. They’re running the wrong way from the bottom to the top of a ski resort. It was quite enjoyable, though, hiking past all the ski lifts and other assorted equipment it wasn't exactly a wilderness hike. The views out over Lake Tahoe to the east and over the mountains to the west were outstanding. The whole way up, as I gasped for breath on the steep terrain and altitude, I couldn't stop shaking my head and thinking, "They're going to run up this?"

On top, you find a monument to the 19th-century emigrants to California, some wicked wind, and big views in both directions. To the west was the Granite Chief Wilderness area where the sun was setting behind Granite Chief Peak. And after that gut-busting four-mile hike up, the trail looked inviting rolling down off into the distance. To the east, Lake Tahoe was in shadow and getting darker by the minute, and the lights of Palisades Village were twinkling on, like some fairy settlement down in the vale. I could see why this would be a great spot to watch the race in the morning. Next year.

The Race

The gun went off at 5:00 am, and the runners crossed the start line and headed up the hill. I tried to imagine what that felt like but it was hard to get my head around it. I have started very long races in the dark before, but never before coffee, so that was to be my next stop. Unfortunately, the most convenient coffee was miles away. There was some congestion getting out of the parking lot as all the spectators and support crews raced to beat their runners to whichever aid station they had chosen. I was going to have a roughly two-and-a-half-hour drive to get to the first accessible aid station, Robinson Flat. There was plenty of time, though, as the lead runner wasn't expected until almost 9:30 am.

The drive to the very popular Robinson Flat aid station is long and convoluted. You go all the way back down Highway 80 to Auburn and 47 miles back up into the forest on Foresthill Rd. You're driving about 118 miles while the runners go 30.3. The good thing is that on exiting the freeway there are all-American chain coffee and breakfast options. Foresthill Rd gets progressively smaller, rougher, windier, and more scenic as you get higher up into the mountains and closer to Robinson Flat. By the time you're within a mile of the aid station, the road is barely more than one lane, and cars have overflowed from the parking lot and lined the side of the road, parked half-in half-out of the ditch on one side. Volunteers control traffic, directing the alternating one-way flow, telling people where to park and where to catch the shuttle. Crews are sent to a lot closer to the aid station. It's about a mile from parking up to the aid station, which you can walk but it's probably better to take one of the shuttles, which are school buses borrowed from local elementary schools.

At Robinson Flat the runners first appeared, popping up around a tight corner and then they have about 100 meters of flat, gravel road--mostly roped off with caution tape--until they get to the aid station tables. On one side of the road is the Robinson Flat campground bathroom. On the other are some facilities for the hard-working spectator: a DJ, port-a-potties, and free hotdogs (Yay! Hotdogs!). Behind that is a meadow with four historical wooden buildings, complete with informational plaques. The route does a little jog left into a semi-circle of aid station tables and behind the aid tables is the forest proper with giant pine trees, amongst the shade of which I set up my camp chair and left my stuff. It was already starting to warm up, and shady spots right next to the course were hard to come by. After stashing my chair and backpack, I walked back to the course and happened upon the aid station chief having a meeting with the troops. He was snippily explaining that no unauthorized people came into the aid station cutout: "…and if any media follows a runner in, I will TAKE their badge for the duration of the race!"

Even an hour before the first runner was expected, Robinson Flat was jumping. People were lined up along the route with camp chairs, coolers, and noisemakers, and the DJ was pumping music that never stopped. Rumors rippled through the crowd about how the race was progressing, such as "Walmsley leading but a big pack of men together right behind him" or "Katie Schide way ahead of record pace." At Robinson Flat there is no cell service; updates came directly from aid station volunteers who had access to a Starlink connection. The rumors turned out to be correct and Walmsley came loping in at 9:25 am, a minute ahead of his own record pace, closely followed by 16 other men within the next 10 minutes.

Katie Schide arrived 19 minutes after Walmsley, 19th overall, 21 minutes ahead of her nearest competitor, and 15 minutes ahead of course record pace. Her crew was set up down the road in front of me, i.e., well before the aid station proper. She quickly finished her resupply and ran by me looking relaxed, comfortable, and determined.

I watched and cheered until about the 20th woman came through, then meandered through the meadow looking at the old buildings, coming out at the far side, which was farther up the race course. I just happened to pop back out onto the course when fan-favorite Kaci Lickteig showed up. Kaci is a previous winner of Western States and was attempting her 10th finish to earn that 1000-mile buckle (spoiler: she would). She passed me by with a smile and a friendly wave.

With Kaci safely through, it was time to go. I retraced my steps back to the car, and down the long and winding road I went. The next two options for spectators are Michigan Bluff, at mile 55.7, and Foresthill, at 62 miles into the race. Michigan Bluff is the harder of the two to get to. It requires a drive up a three-mile windy road off of Foresthill Rd and then a shuttle to the aid station itself. Foresthill, on the other hand, is right there on Foresthill Rd (surprisingly) and you're driving through it anyway. This is the biggest, party-est, and most accessible aid station of the race. There's plenty of street parking all along Foresthill Rd for the 1/2 mile-long cheering section.

Foresthill

I parked in the first free spot I came to and wandered down towards all the action. Foresthill is a cute, historic mining town right on the edge of the Tahoe National Forest. The aid station proper is at the elementary school and was the first thing I passed (remember, no one is allowed into the aid table area except runners) as I walked down the street. On the sidewalk near the school, there was a giant TV set up showing the live feed. On one side of Main Street were sponsor tents: Hoka etc. On the other side was where most of the spectators were, in some cases with elaborate setups of tables and chairs and food platters. I walked about a 1/4 mile down the road and found my friends Pen and Christina (with table, chairs, and food platter).

At that point, we still had about an hour before the lead runners would be coming through. We could tell roughly where they were because Foresthill has cell coverage which allowed obsessive checking of Ultralive and the WSER app on my phone. I watched where the leaders were, Walmsley barely maintaining a lead until Foresthill and Schide far in the lead but "how far ahead of record pace was she."

We waited and chatted and snacked for almost an hour before the cowbell symphony started playing for the lead runner. All the while, friends, crew members, and fellow runners were coming up to us and commiserating with Pen about her almost start of the race. The commotion started, cowbells and cheering, and we saw the crowds up the hill surge into the road, and Walmsley came trotting down with his posse. A minute later Farvard came by and five minutes later another four competitors. The spectator procedure was this: sit and chat, get alerted by the cowbell early warning, stand and move into the road readying our cameras and/or cowbells, cheer for the runner while trying to figure out which runner it was, and periodically shifting our seats to try to stay in the shade. It got pretty warm as the afternoon drifted on.

Katie Schide came through 39 minutes after Walmsley, running easy and relaxed, smiling and waving at the crowds, looking like she was on a Sunday stroll. Of course, it's easier to be relaxed in a race when your closest competitor is 38 minutes behind you. That next woman would be Fuzhao Xiang, who had worked her way up from 19th at the escarpment, to second place after Michigan Bluff. Between Katie and Fuzhao there was something of a drought, only two men in the intervening 38 minutes. While we sat there waiting and snacking and chasing the shade, a small group of four people rapidly set up a little aid station of camp chair and table, a cooler and bags. I overheard them saying 'Eszter', so I asked them if they were Eszter Csillag's crew. It turns out they were, and I thanked them for giving us a front-row seat to a top runner's crew station.

Eszter came into Foresthill in fourth and her crew flew into action. It was like a Formula 1 pit crew, feeding her things like watermelon (I heard her coach comment, "Watermelon: good") and drinks, putting an ice bag around her neck, and generally checking in with her. She was in and out in seconds, and the crew was packed up and out of there shortly thereafter.

We hung around lazily in the sun for some time until Christina looked at the time and said, "Oh, my god, we're going to be late. We have to get to the finish!" So, after watching and cheering elite athletes through the soporific atmosphere of a warm summer day in the forest--not a bad way to spend the afternoon--we flew into action, gathered up our gear, and took off for Placer High School in Auburn.

Placer High School in Auburn

It's a 30-minute drive, but for planning purposes allow for double that. Let me tell you, parking around the high school is a pain. The High School has a parking lot but it fills up and unless you're early or have amazing parking karma you’ll have to drive around to find a spot. It took me twenty or thirty minutes of spiraling farther and farther away from the school before I found one.

The track and field stadium is set up for a two-day party. The finish line is set up on the finish line of the track, complete with a giant banner, race time clock, and a photographer bullpen area just past it. The infield is full of people picnicking and playing catch and there’s a big-screen TV streaming the live feed. Adjacent to the track is a large grassy area, usually used for field events, with another expo area. There's a large wall-less tent used for the awards on Sunday, the kitchen tent and eating area, a number of vendors set up, like Hoka, of course, and off in the corner of the field next to the gym lockers, an area reserved for camping. In spite of the parking challenges, I made it with plenty of time to see the finishers.

I found a spot near the finish line as the excitement built for the first finishers. After 20 miles of exchanging leads, Walmsley had pulled ahead of Farvard and was within a few miles of the finish. By the time Walmsley hit the Robie Point aid station--1.4 miles to the finish--everyone was in spectating position, hanging on every word from the announcers on the big screen. As he got close to the stadium, the drone camera picked him up along with his retinue (family, friends, and crew members are allowed to run with the athletes from the last aid station onward), and we watched on the big screen as they ran through the streets of Auburn. The crowd erupted as he entered the stadium. He trotted easily around the track with his long, lazy-looking stride. Twenty feet before the finish line he stopped running. He spun around slowly, arms up both in celebration and acknowledgment of the crowd. He gave a thumbs up, turned back to the finish, and walked calmly through the tape, with a big smile. His 4th win and the second-fastest time in race history.

Walmsley got his finisher shirt, medal, and hugs, and then the hosts of the show, Dylan Bowman and Callie Vinson, had him sit down for a post-race interview. They got through about one question when it became apparent the next finishers were about to enter the stadium. Rob Farvard entered the stadium followed almost immediately by Hayden Hawks. Farvard was forced to sprint to stay ahead of Hawks. And he did, but collapsed in a worn-out heap after crossing the finish line. He would be fine, he just needed a minute.

Ninety-three minutes later, the sunlight slowly fading and temperature dropping (but not by much--just enough to take the edge off), Katie Schide entered the stadium. I think there was more excitement for Katie's finish. Jim amazed everyone, but in a number of ways this was the year of the women; beginning earlier in the week with the hard-to-get "I'm here for the women's race" T-shirts and at the finish with six of the top ten women's times ever. Katie ran across the finish line to a cheering and appreciative crowd, with the 2nd fastest women's time ever.

It would be 34 minutes before the second-place woman, Fuzhao Xiang, finished. Perfect time to eat. There's food for everybody; it's nice and convenient having it right there, so you don't have to figure out how to get into town somewhere and come back and (gasp) try to find parking again. There may be walking distance restaurants; I just don't know because I didn't need to. The food is for everyone and it's recommended that you drop something in the donation jar, so please do.

Fuzhao finished at 9:20 pm and for the following hour, there was a semi-steady stream of finishers, including the rest of the top ten female finishers. I decided that was enough for the evening; I wanted to make sure I was up early enough in the morning to watch the last of the 24-hour finishers, and I still had to set up my camp and shower.

With all the big names finished, I was able to score a closer parking spot, and I lugged my tent and other gear to the camping corner of the field. There were eight other tents already set up, and one big, tentless, puppy pile of (presumably) teenage bodies and bags and blankets and fluff. As I carried a load onto the field, I waylaid a guy who had the shiny, wet-slicked hair look of the just showered, and innocently asked if I had heard correctly about the availability of showers. He confirmed the rumors and gave me directions. They were, it turns out, right next to the camping area, in the boy's locker room of the gym. I desperately needed a shower. I hadn't had one since the day before and it had been a full, warm day of running around in the sun. And at 11:20 pm, it was still around 90 degrees.

My camp set up and organized, I grabbed my shower gear and followed the directions from the squeaky clean fellow. I walked in the door of the boy's locker room. Pitch dark. I took a tentative step into the room and the overhead lights slammed on. I looked over row upon row of lockers. On the left side was a bathroom and the big shower area. I walked hesitantly into the room, my senses heightened, thinking: this is the beginning of a horror film. To put you at ease, no chainsaw-wielding madmen appeared and I successfully showered. The shower itself was comical, with a three-second automatic off button that needed to be continually pushed, and only cold water, but it was refreshing and I was thankful.

I set my alarm for 4:00 am to cheer for those last silver buckle winners--sub-24-hour finishers get a silver buckle, sub-30-hour runners get a bronze buckle. There's always some drama at the deadlines: those who just make it, and those who don't. Especially the 30-hour cutoff, which is the big one. Runners finished all through the night. Anytime I was awake I would hear the cowbells going off. Some 60 runners finished while I slept, including Kaci Lickteig with her 10th.

I struggled out of bed in the dark and (finally) cool morning and made it over to the grandstand to cheer those last silver-buckle finishers from the grandstand. It's interesting to see the effect of the deadline as a motivator. There were thirteen finishers between 3:00 and 4:00 am and only six people finished between 5:00 and 6:00 am. But in that last silver buckle hour of 4 - 5 am, 33 runners finished. For the 30-hour deadline (without any details on the post-deadline numbers) the effect isn't as great with only a few more in the last hour than in the penultimate hour.

After the last silver buckler, I went back to bed for a little nap before breakfast. There were three older runners I had been monitoring and really wanted to see finish. Eric Spector at 77 years old would have been the oldest finisher, but he had to drop. Ken Ward, 67, was going for his 10th finish and 1000-mile buckle. He also gave a presentation at the sports science meeting on Thursday. The third was Iris Cooper, who would be only the third woman 65+ if she made it. I spent the morning packing up, having a delicious breakfast (donate!), and hanging out with friends. Ken finished handily in 29:30, he came across the line with his full crew all wearing matching "Ten for Ken" blue t-shirts, smiling and looking relaxed, and with the full appreciation of the crowd.

I had been monitoring Iris, as best I could, with the Ultralive results website. She had been well behind 30-hour pace for most of the race. At Foresthill, she was a full 44 minutes slower than she should have been. But she turned on her afterburners in the last third of the race and by the Pointed Rocks aid station, with six miles to go, she was only 8 minutes off the pace. Then she really kicked it into high gear and by the final aid station, with only 1.3 miles to go, was on pace. I was trying to guesstimate how much time she had and how fast she would go. I figured she would just barely make it if that, and ran to my car to get some water. When I came back to the track I went straight to the spot where the course entered, thinking that I could get a picture of her coming onto the track and then beat her to the finish ( I only had to run across the infield, runners have to go most of the way around the track). I waited with growing disappointment as the 30-hour mark passed. Eventually, I gave up waiting, checked the results, and found out I had missed her. She blazed that last mile and finished with 4 minutes to spare.

Sigh…live spectating, without the benefits of instant replay, sometimes you miss a few things.

Race Basics

• The race begins at 5 am on Saturday, June 28th at Palisades Village in Olympic Valley.
• The finish line is on the track at Placer High School in Auburn and the first man will likely finish around 7:00 pm.
• The first woman will likely finish after 8:30 pm.
• The cutoff for the last official finisher, earning the bronze belt buckle is 30 hours.

Accommodations for the night(s) before the start

If you want to have a room in Palisades Village you need to reserve one way in advance. Like January, or earlier. Though there are plenty of rooms (and cheaper) to be had farther away. There are also camping options not too far away but those can get sold out as well.

Viewing Options

• There are four main viewing locations and several more minor ones. The most obvious are the start and finish.
• The start in Palisades Village is at 5:00 am.
• The next option is the Escarpment. This is the top of the ski hill, four miles into the race, and an amazing place to watch the runners.
• The Foresthill Aid Station is smack dab in the middle of the town of Foresthill, easy to get to, and with all the facilities you need.
• The final main option is the finish. Parking can be a chore but once you're in the stadium the atmosphere is amazing. There's also food and drinks and a camping area available.
• There are a few other aid stations you're allowed to go to but they take more time and include a shuttle ride and/or walk to get to.
• Michigan Bluff is only five course miles before Forest Hill, but harder to get to.
• The river crossing is one of the iconic spots in the race but getting there is time-consuming and includes a hike.
• Robie Point is only 1.3 miles from the finish and you are allowed to accompany your runner from here on in.

Sleeping options for the night during the race

• Plenty of options in Auburn or between Olympic Valley and Auburn for hotels, motels, and Airbnb.
• Camp on the field in the stadium at Placer High; A very WSER experience.
• Don't sleep. Hit all the aid stations following your runner.

Online coverage

• WSER livestreams on Youtube for the duration of the race.
• Ultralive.com has live updates from the finish as well as all the aid stations.
• WSER has an app where you can follow along.