The 2021 Western States Experience | Race Day!

by Chase Parnell — June 29, 2021 — 📸: All photos courtesy of Luke Webster

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Western States DELIVERED! Sheesh, what an incredible thing to witness. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of livestream coverage, but I have to say that the in-person experience was way better than I’d anticipated. I thought I was going to be missing out and totally out of the loop out there on the course, but really, it was the opposite. We were in it! So that’s where I’ll start, put spectating Western States on your ultrarunning bucket list. You will not walk away from this experience the same person you were beforehand. I mean sure, you have to love ultrarunning I think. I overheard a guy at the finish line say, “This is the Super Bowl of ultrarunning? There’s only like 300 people here.” After bristling a little, I thought about how I would I react if I went to see, I don’t know, the best opera performers in the world or a Nascar event or something? I don’t know a thing about either of those so there’d be nothing resonant or moving about it. But if you’re a runner, you’d know what each and every one of the Western States finishers must have gone through to make it all the way to that track. It was glorious.

At this point, most of you out there probably already know the basic play-by-play of what went down. Jim Walmsley and Beth Pascall as winners, the women putting their toughness on display with 15 in the top 30, you probably saw this wild video of the last two finishers just dipping under the 30 hour cutoff, but what you can’t possibly know are the little things I witnessed that left a lasting mark on me personally, memories that I’d like to share in part three of this Western States blog experiment. If you finish this and want to read about the days leading into the race, here is part one, part two, and a YouTube video I made while running up the escarpment, the first 3.5 miles of the course.

Carnage Triggers Empathy

For each elite runner that finished with arms raised in triumph there were an equal number whose race ended in a gut-wrenching spiral of DNF despair. I really felt for the golden ticket winner at the Bandera 100k, Ryan Miller, who looked like he was knocking on death’s door at Robinson Flat (mile 30). I can’t imagine what was going through his mind when contemplating the fact that there were 70 more miles to the finish line. I was completely shocked that he somehow rallied and ran 25 more miles after being in such a bad way. Then there was Addie Bracy and Jeff Browning who limped into Foresthill and ultimately pulled the plug. Jared Hazen got out of that aid station but later walked back in and dropped. Witnessing these DNFs in person really humanized these athletes for me. Normally, you peruse the ultrasignup results or just get a snippet that they pull out from the race for whatever reason and it doesn’t even really register what that experience must’ve been like. The reality of it was tough to watch in person. And their crews! The crews of these elite runners were completely immersed; I felt like I was at a funeral watching their faces literally mourn what was happening to their runner. That energy spilled over to us and I couldn’t help but empathize in a way that I hadn’t before. It’s easier to disconnect when you absorb this sort of thing through a screen. There was no disassociating here. And even now, they’re off in their respective training grounds with the weight of a tough race in the rearview mirror. They’re as good as they are because they’ve learned to not let experiences like this bury them, but those wounds must take time to heal. This is going to change the way I consume and digest race performances in the future. 

Next level volunteers and aid stations

One of the crazy stats before the race was that there would be over 1,500 volunteers at Western States, roughly five volunteers per runner. From parking attendants to aid station workers and medical personnel, this race is dialed like nothing I’ve ever seen. And they mean business! They’re all about supporting the runners and doing everything they can to get them to the finish line. If that means they have to yell at some spectators so the runners have a clear path to the aid station, so be it. And in the aid stations themselves, they’d give you an organ if you asked them. Okay, maybe not, but that was the vibe. Nikki and I struggled to wrap our heads around why that is. I mean, of course race volunteers are incredible in general, but why is Western so special in that way? Our conclusion is that it boils down to the history and culture of the race. Sort of like how you get fanatical cheers by complete strangers at UTMB, and the reason is because your average citizen there has a different kind of respect and admiration for the mountains and what ultra runners can do. Similarly, Western States is an annual tradition baked into the community for generations now. You have your Western States experience and you can’t help but walk away with a desire to give back. It’s touched a lot of different people in a profound way and now we all benefit from the trickle down effect. Come to Western States to get your VIP 1st-class treatment. They’ll really roll out the red carpet for you. They had five pounds of ice for every runner at every aid station. Wrap your head around that one. All you have to do is move your body the 100 miles. NBD. 

Starstruck but welcomed

It was a trip seeing all the stars of our sport live in the flesh. They went from characters on the internet to real human beings. And I’m not just talking about the athletes. It was wild to see Jamil running around with his camera, David Roche pouring his heart out for his athletes, Eric Schranz posted up on the track at Placer High, Jason Koop, Anna Frost, Tommy Rivs, Craig Thornley, Bryon Powell and Meghan Hicks, Billy Yang and the entire Western States board of directors; the list goes on and on. I’m not one to work a room and make introductions like I probably should, but I was able to share quick conversations with many of them. I was encouraged by the fact that some of them already knew who we were. The President of the board, Diana Fitzpatrick, said we write good stuff and knew we just had a baby! I told Billy Yang that we didn’t have a plan on race day and he said, “Now you do.” He went on to give us the itinerary we used. So why am I gushing like a Bieber fan over here? I guess it’s because we just felt really welcomed by the community and that felt good. It was confirmation of what we’ve always surmised: ultra people are good people, even the ones we see everyday on the internet. 

Finish line celebrations to remember

I teared up twice during Western States. But don’t worry, no tears rolled down the cheeks or anything, I wasn’t sobbing like a blabbering baby, but you know what I’m saying, the misty eyed well up. First, it was watching Audrey Tanguy of France finish. Now SHE was crying full on! And in such a sweet way, really wearing it on her sleeve. She hugged her pacer and then saw Beth Pascall along the guardrail, the women’s winner, and went over for a long shoulder-convulsing squeeze. I could hear Beth say, Don’t worry, go ahead and cry. I did too. It’s in these moments where the full reality of what this person just experienced comes to the surface. When they’re out on the course, yeah they might look like they’re suffering but it’s done with a bit in the teeth, and then they cross the line and let out that pent up emotion that they’d been white-knuckling through the entire day. Not only that, it’s in that moment too when they seem to recall all their hard work and training, the graciousness of their crews and family members, and as spectators, we get to watch this wave wash over them. It’s so good. The other moment was of course during the golden hour, the final hour before the 30 hour cutoff. We arrived with only 20 minutes left and I’ll be darned, the first runner I saw cross the line broke me. I can’t say why this triggered such an immediate response but I’ll try to make an analogy. If you don’t have a child you won’t know what I’m talking about but there’s something that happens when you see your baby for the first time, you just immediately cry. I’m making a generalization here of course as I’m sure not all men cry when their babies are born, but the golden hour finishes are sort of like that. You see this moment in time where someone transcends from one person into another, they are overwhelmed with such an authentic state of joy and relief that it goes on to flow into whoever is in their orbit. It’s a beautiful thing.

Our coverage and where we’re heading

If anything, our Western States experience confirmed that we want to do more of this. How could we not! We also realized a lot of—how should I put this—room for improvement. We haven’t yet dialed in which races we’re going to attend next (open to suggestions) but the goal is to provide more comprehensive race coverage and to start working on figuring out technology needs and logistical considerations that would really help us improve. Apart from races, I’m ready to jump back into writing more long form athlete profiles and resource pieces as well. I’ll be working on Treeline Journal full-time for at least the next couple months, so stay tuned for a lot of changes and updates to our site and a steady stream of content. Hype train full steam ahead. 

So there you have it, that’ll do it for Western States. We’re happy to add this experience to the stoke vault, which is now at an all-time high. If you’d like to support us in our work and be apart of the Treeline community in a greater way, please consider becoming a patron for as little as $2 a month. We can’t do this thing without you.

Finally, huge shout out to Luke Webster for allowing us to use his images in this post. Check out his work.

Much love. End blog.