Western States is more than a weekend; it’s more than an historic and iconic 100-mile race. It is an aspiration, a life long goal, a crazy and irrational thought, or to the 400 hundred plus runners a reality. Every June people flock to Squaw Valley and are greeted by the typical camaraderie, support of family/friends/volunteers, beautiful scenery, and nervous excitement that are par for the course with most Ultra Distance Trail Races.
However, there seems to be something more resting in the wings at Western, it seems like it holds a little bit more mystique and allure than other events I have been fortunate enough to attend. My adamantly blatant admiration aside, this race has no doubt fully intrigued and inspired others as well. If not evident enough by the pre, during, and post race chatter. With so many exceptional interpretations and reflections of this years’ Western States, my opinion is rather moot. And ultimately I don’t feel like I could conceptually provide anything to the thrones of already published content of the weekend. All in all, my re-cap can really be summed up pretty briefly: Fun, long, hot, awe inspiring, tiring, and really fun.
Regardless of what you have already seen or read about the weekend my take is more visual on both the defeat, the triumph, and of course, the pain. Here is my personal view of the run, which happens to mostly be a perspective from the sidelines before the race, and from the front, as much as was humanly possible by chasing down the fastest mountain runners in the world, by car and foot. I wish I could have shown more, but reality is there is way to many insanely awesome and integral people to this event than my one man and single camera could ever capture.