A rare moment for the Western States 100

Every year the first Saturday in August I run up the slippery granite face of Squaw Valley. I am infected by the morning hum of race-day runners, the smell of coffee and sunblock and fine Alpine dust mixed with flirting-with-the-ground sound from the bronze pistons of experienced climbers and endurance athletes—all elongated fingers and push pins for knees shaking their arms and legs and internal combustion engine to ready.

Local Truckee teens, out to bound a morning lap up the hill, sometimes leaving their folks in the dust, sometimes dusted by their folks, laugh encouragingly the way you do at the age when you’re still being dropped-off everywhere. Flashing braces in the sunlight.

To take a moment prior to the start from beside the dormant sway of the KT lift and pan all the way to the shiny peak of the resort’s Funitel tower and think I’m just three…