Pacing at Rio del Lago 100M - November 1, 2025

 Prelude

At 615 a.m. I'm standing on the sidewalk across from the Lake Natoma Inn waiting for Emaad to run by. For him it is about mile 6.5 of the Rio del Lago 100 Mile Endurance Run (RDL) which began at 5 a.m.  I could have been running the associated 50K with him, but decided that $200 was too much to pay for a race that would be mostly on bike trails.  Instead I've volunteered to pace him the last 31 miles of his race, which means I'll get to run 50K for free, and mostly on trails.  It's a win-win for me, and a win for him, as he will have a pacer when he is most in need of encouragement.

Right on schedule, he comes by at 6:18. I run a couple of hundred yards with him, bid him good luck and go back to bed.

A few hours later, about 9 a.m. his wife Saira and I drive to meet him at Beals Point (mile 21.7) which is also the start/finish of the race. The first part of the race is a loop on mostly flat, wide trails, paved and dirt, that go south and then back north to Beals Point before heading north to the Sierra foothills.

He arrives about 9:30 a.m. and changes from road shoes to trail shoes, drops his light that was necessary for the 5 a.m. start, and drinks a coffee beverage.  He's in good shape and is about 18 minutes ahead of his ultrapacer,com 29- hour pace card.  That is his target and a full hour ahead of the 30-hour cutoff. He has started to develop blisters, but that is not unusual for him.  He makes a couple of other adjustments and bids us good-bye.

Saira and I head off for a day of sight-seeing in Sacramento, visiting Old Town Sacramento (a surprising number of candy stores, even for a tourist area), looking at the Delta King riverboat, now a restaurant and hotel, and spending a couple of hours visiting the California State Railroad Museum. We return to Folsom, and after having dinner, I try to get some rest and sleep, as my pacing duties are coming up.

Slowing Down

RDL provides real-time tracking at many of the aid stations and we can see Emaad's progress is steady. At Granite Beach (mile 26.6) and about a mile short of where the hills begin, he is 15 minutes ahead of his 29-hour schedule. He keeps the 15 minute cushion through Rattlesnake Bar (mile 36). By Overlook (mile 45.5) he has given some back, but is still 8 minutes ahead of the pace card.

But things start to slow down after that as the day, and the course, start to erode the cushion. At No Hands Bridge (mile 49.3 and essentially the halfway point), Emaad is 12 minutes over his 29 hour pace. The ten mile stretch to the next aid station at Auburn Lakes Trail (mile 59.8) puts him 18 minutes behind his pace card, but he is still 42 minutes ahead of the 30-hour cut-off.

I'll be meeting him at the next aid station at Cool Fire Station (mile 69.5).

Game face.

Showtime

About 11:30 p.m. Saira and I leave the inn for the aid station.  The road is a two-lane winding mountain road into the foothills. Saira is driving and is clearly not enjoying the task.  At one point we spot a pair of deer standing of the opposite side of the road, which does nothing to make the drive more enjoyable.

Arriving at the aid station about midnight, we park and Saira get out to await Emaad.   Runners come and go into the aid station. She has various things on the list of things he wanted her to bring: a coffee drink, Ensure, socks and shoes. The temperature is in the 50s, so I stay in the car to stay warm - and to stay off my feet.

He arrives at 12:38 a.m. He is 29 minutes behind the 29 hour pace card, but still 31 minutes ahead of the 30 hour cut-off. He is a bit tired and his blisters are bothering him.

No Hands Bridge

We head out and run, or mostly walk in the company of several other runners and their pacers.  This portion of the course is mostly a long downhill.  About mile 71 the trail parallels CA49 and we can occasionally see headlights of cars on the winding two-lane road below. It isn't seeing the cars that starts working on my mind; it is the steep slope between the trail and the road.  I begin to fret that a misstep and I'm rolling down that incline. And since it is night, the only thing one sees is the circle of trail in front of oneself illuminated by one's headlamp. In the dark, a foot or two to the right, is the unseen abyss - at least to my imagination.

In about a mile we reach No Hands Bridge, a former railroad bridge over the North Fork of the American River. The trail is wide, smooth and, since it is on an old railroad right of way, straight with a gentle grade. 

In less than a mile we reach the No Hands Bride aid station (mile 72.6).  Emaad has been going for 21:03 and is now 56 minutes behind his 29 hour goal pace.  In other words, he only has a 4 minute cushion to make the 30 hour cutoff. It is going to be hard, but the closer we get, the better off we are.

Ticks. I hate ticks.

Overlook

Now we start the section with the last major climb of the course.  It is just over 4 miles to the next aid station, but it involves a mostly steady 700 feet of climb. Initially it is a gentle uphill.  I spot a pair of women ahead.  One is standing on the trail. The other is squatting at the side.  I get ready to ask if she is okay but realize that isn't why she is there.  My eyes and light promptly swing back to the trail.  We will see her in the same pose a bit later. That's trail runners for you.

At one point I'm ahead of Emaad.  I stop and wait.  Then I become concerned that he is ahead of me. A quandary - wait or go on?  Another runner and his pacer come along.  I ask them if they had seen him and they assure me that he is still behind and coming.  He had stopped to make an equipment adjustment. I resolve that as his pacer, I need to keep him in sight at all times.

Before we get to the aid station I manage to trip and fall, scraping my right knee.  We were walking, so it wasn't a hard fall, but I'm wearing shorts and draw blood.

When we reach the Overlook AS (mile 76.8) one of the aid station workers gets out the first aid kit and wipes down the knee with some alcohol wipes.  

Time keeps slipping away. Emaad has been going for 22:42, which is 62 minutes behind the 29 hour pace, or more critically, two minutes behind the 30 hour cutoff.  He is going to have to make up that time over the next 24 miles.

Trail gully.

Rattlesnake Bar

The next aid station Rattlesnake Bar, is almost ten miles further on.  Fortunately, it is going to be downhill, and according to the course map, once we get there we are finished with both long climbs and descents.

The first part is on a not-very-steep downhill paved park road.  I urge him to run as this is a section on which we have a good change to make up some of those two minutes, and he responds favorably.  We don't need to sprint, only move quickly. And we do. At one point we come to an intersection with another park road. We see no ribbons indicating which way to go. We look and then wait for other runners to come along to indicate the proper direction. 

After three miles of downhill on the paved road we come to the Cardiac water station (mile 80). It is unmanned, but there are large water coolers.  I fill my hydration pack while Emaad goes on.  I quickly catch up to him and in about a half mile the pavement ends and we are back on single track.

The trail is near the river and generally without any significant up and down. But it is dark and there are rocks and roots that require one's attention to stay upright.  Around mile 84 we pass over the Newcastle Powerhouse, a small hydroelectric generating plant.

In about a mile and a half we try to figure out how we are going to cross a moderate stream of water. Emaad doesn't seem to recall this area on his outbound journey earlier, and as we search around a runner on the trail above yells at us that we have gone off the trail.  We bushwack a bit uphill are regain the Pioneer Express Trail. I now have checked both boxes of my "it isn't a trail run unless you get lost or fall down" adage.

When we get to Rattlesnake Bar aid station (mile 86.2), Emaad heads to the medical tent to have his feed attended to, and I go to get his drop bag so he can change socks and have a coffee drink.  The medics put moleskin on the blister on the bottom of a foot but refuse to lance the blister, citing the risk of infection.  They urge him not to linger as the cutoff is approaching. 

We hustle out, but things are beginning to get ominous. His time is 25:29 for Rattlesnake Bar, which is only six minutes ahead of the 30-hour pace. And that pace does not take into account any time spent at aid stations.

Dawn is coming.

Horseshoe Bar

But we are still moving and the next aid station is only 2.6 miles ahead.

In places the trail is deeply eroded with straight, ditch-like gullies.  At one point I straddle one, then start to slip and try to jump to the other side.  I stumble and stay upright, but my hydration bladder flies out of my pack, as I had not looped it in when I refilled it. I have to stop, remove my pack, and reinsert the bladder.  Perhaps while doing this I drop my reusable cup (RDL is a cupless race) as later in the day I no longer have it.

Gradually the sky starts to lighten. Rosy fingered dawn is with us.  Folsom Lake is no wine-dark sea but Emaad's journey, like that of all the RDL entrants is on an Odyssey of his own.  Saira plays the part of Penelope, awaiting the return of the hero, not to Ithaca, but to the finish line. I am Polites, true friend and crew member.

Rosy fingered dawn over not so wine dark Folsom Lake.

Homeric thoughts stowed away, we continue. Approaching the Horseshoe Bar AS, (mile 88.8) we overtake a runner limping badly.  It is likely that his journey is coming to an end.  At the aid station, I use the portapotty, then take off my long sleeved shirt and tie it around my waist.

And we move on.

Granite Beach

All through the night we shared the trail with other runners and their pacers.  But gradually we see fewer and fewer, as some go ahead, and some disappear behind, likely dropping out. Now, it is just the two of us.

On the Meat Grinder.

Emaad asks how are we doing. I equivocate, knowing that we are falling further and further behind pace, but on the other hand, recognizing that we are still moving. Every step now is one less later.

The race does not allow poles. He picks up a rather thick branch to use.  After a mile or two he discards it as too heavy.  I find a thinner one and give it to him.  It serves for awhile and then breaks.

While there is not much in the way of elevation change the course has roll to it, and rocks and roots.  This is the Meat Grinder section (there is a sign that identifies it) and given his blistered feet, aching quads and general tiredness, running is out of the question.

At a couple of places I have to offer him a hand so that he can step down. In other places he uses rocks of the side of the trail for support. 

Finally he sits on a rock for a bit of a break.  When he says that the crevasse on the other side of the trail looks like a good place to nap, I tell him we need to go on.

He didn't refill his flasks at the aid station and has run out of water.  I refill one with water from my pack.

I text Saira, "He beat." She asks what is is estimate finishing time. I respond that "there's a 40% chance he quits at Granite Beach." I'm being optimistic, but keep it to myself.  Like Penelope, she retains hope that her Odesseus will make it. "He's stubboran and wants to finish," she replies.  She asks his likely finishing time.  I reply with "between 11 and 12."  I don't say that the cutoff is 11.

Out of the Meat Grinder the course get flatter, the trail wider and the surface smoother.  No matter.  He can no longer run.

Two women wearing red shirts catch up with us.  They are the Safety Sweepers.  Their presence confirms that Emaad is the last runner on the course.  We chat with them, but because they are the sweepers, they never step in front of us.

Approaching Granite Beach
accompanied by the Safety Sweepers.
(Photo by S. Burki)

Emaad finally announces that he will drop at Granite Beach. I let Saira know so that she can meet us there.  Based on the pace card I'm carrying and the mileage measured by my Garmin I keep texting her a countdown of our distance to the aid station.  I'm off and it begins to annoy me that we are not there yet.  Finally the sweepers point out a lifeguard station in the distance and tell us that is where the aid station is.

When we get there, Saira awaits. The volunteers have started to close down the aid station. But they still offer us solid refreshments as well as things to drink. Emaad walks to the timing mat, crosses it and announces he is officially dropping. His time is 29:40.

By the Numbers

There are 197 official finishers and four unofficial (over 30 hour) finishers. There were 88 DNFs, but only two others besides Emaad made it to Granite Beach. Only about 61 percent of those who started finished.  Later, he recognizes that he had underestimated the difficulty of the course with its 12,000 feet of climb and descent. And the deceptively easy, flat and fast (he ran a 50K PR) at the beginning.

For me, I went 26.7 miles in 9:55, an average pace of 22:15. My Garmin logged 4368 feet of total ascent and 5427 feet of total descent.  Of course, I hadn't run 69.5 miles previous.

Swag: Pacer bib.