The runner's high is something that every runner knows and experiences. We know all too well that indescribable feeling when we push ourselves hard during a race and when we cross the finish line we're so hopped up on endorphins that it's as if we've stepped into an alternate reality. We've been through so much that are brains are essentially full of mush, at least for the time being. We're so exhausted from giving it our all, that the world around us seems dreamlike and simple things that our brains can normally process easily don't quite register. Our ability to comprehend what's going on around us, our ability to make simple decisions, or our ability to perform everyday tasks is all temporarily impaired. This can often lead to funny situations, as was the case with me when I ran the Broken Arrow 52K.
At 6:30 AM on Saturday October 2nd 2021, I stepped out of the my car in the parking lot of Squaw Village. Sam stepped out of the passenger's side and shivered in the frigid morning air and she came around to the driver's side. She gave me a quick hug and kiss and wished me good luck before promptly jumping into the driver's side of my car and driving the two miles back to the condo that we had rented for the weekend. In front of me stood the massive peaks of the Tahoe Palisades Ski Resort above the quaint little village at the base of the mountain. Squaw Village has several restaurants, stores, and shops that typically cater to skiers and snowboarders, however today those establishments were being occupied by runners. Even though it was still early in the morning, the village was pulsing with energy from the race participants, the vendor booths, music, and the race staff making announcements over the loud speaker. I made my way through the village to the start line, which was just underneath the arches of the village entrance, across from the Coffeebar Olympic Valley coffee shop. I hadn't had any coffee yet and to my delight, the coffee shop was open and the line wasn't too long. I still had twenty minutes before the race started at 7 AM, so I went inside and hopped in line. As I stood amongst the other runners warming my soul (and body) with a piping hot cup of brew I saw Courtney Dauwalter next to me chatting with a group of runners. I made eye contact, said hey, introduced myself, gave her an elbow bump, and congratulated her on her awesome finish at UTMB. I didn't want to be too much of a fanboy so I kept it short. She was in town for a trail running workshop as part of the festivities for Broken Arrow, and even though I was just another runner, she said thanks and seemed appreciative of the support. Before long, the clock at the start line indicated one minute until race start. I assumed my position in the middle of the pack of three hundred or so runners. The gun went off and we were making our way towards the chairlift at the base of the resort. For the first several miles we would be following the same route as Western States, which climbs to the summit of the ski resort over a four mile span. The Broken Arrow course however would be taking a detour and we would be cresting Squaw Peak around mile seven. The climb along the Western States trail was steep with several switchbacks, and after the first mile I no longer felt cold even though it was around thirty-eight degrees outside. The line of runners was moving up the single track trail slowly, so there really was no choice except to power hike. No sense in burning myself out this early in the race by trying to run up these inclines. Eventually the pack thinned out and I was able to run along some of the rolling terrain. As hours passed and miles were covered, things seemed to be going well. The course was advertised as being fifty-two kilometers in length, however due to some construction at the resort, the course was re-routed and ended up being forty-six kilometers. The route we would cover was a fourteen-ish mile loop course that would be run twice. The course circumnavigated the ski resort, climbing and descending several peaks along the way. There were many instances where we climbed up steep single track trails above treeline with endless switchbacks, while other parts of the course were run on wide jeep roads. The climb from the KT-22 ski lift up to Squaw Peak at 9,000 feet was especially a doozy. We traversed over craggy ridges with sheer drop offs on either side, made the arduous climb up to the stairway to heaven ladder, and finally crested Squaw Peak. Along the way we were treated to spectacular views of Lake Tahoe and the surrounding mountains, which made it all worthwhile. The course then descended into Shirley Basin, climbed again up to High Camp, then down the Thunder Mountain single track trail back to the village. During this descent I admired the scenery around me. The trail followed a series of switchbacks and surrounding me in every direction were towering mountain peaks. These were some of the most beautiful and scenic miles I had ever run at an ultramarathon, if not the most. I came into the aid station at the halfway point of the course near the base of the mountain feeling energetic and ready to take on the second loop. To boost my chances of finishing strong, I decided to deploy my "secret weapon" after scarfing down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My actually not so secret weapon was a 5-hour Energy shot. I pulled it from my pocket, tossed it down, and headed back up the Western States Trail for the second loop. The shot was working it's magic and I found myself running swiftly along the rolling sections of the terrain through the trees, passing several other runners along the way. As I passed one guy with pictures of donuts on his shorts, I thanked him for letting me pass and said I didn't know how much longer this was going to last (referring to my burst of energy), but I hoped that I wouldn't regret it later on.
The burst of energy from the shot carried me along pleasantly for a while, and I made the climb up to Snow King for a second time feeling pretty good. Coming into the aid station at the top of Snow King, I recognized Kaycee one of the volunteers. She regularly helps out at all of the races in the area and I had seen her at just about every ultramarathon that I've done in California for the past couple of years. We exchanged pleasantries, she refilled my water bottles, and I was on my way. I had also seen Holly, another volunteer, at the Squaw Peak aid station that I had gotten to know over the years. It made me once again realize how tight knit this community is and the friendships that develop over time. Unfortunately, things went to hell pretty quickly when I began climbing from the KT-22 ski lift up towards Squaw Peak for the second time. My legs began to hurt and completely seized up. It became impossible to move any faster than a snail's pace and I had to stop and sit on a rock at several points along the climb to stretch out my legs. I was leap frogging with a couple of guys and we just kept moving forward with our heads down, occasionally looking up to see how much more climbing we had left. The guys around me were using poles and I thought about how much of a help they would have been in this moment. After what seemed like hours, I finally made it to the base of the stairway to heaven ladder after scrambling over the rocks on all fours, barely able lift my legs. Passing over Squaw Peak and through the aid station once again, I felt relieved that the worst of the race was now behind me, however there was still one big climb up to high camp a couple of miles down the trail. Even though the climb was less than a mile, it took all of my remaining energy. I was done. Spent. As I crested the climb, some volunteers were on the trailside cheering. The massive toll the course had taken on my mind and body caused me to act loopy, and I danced up the trail as I passed by. This drew plenty of laughs and when things quieted down, I managed to say "you guys are awesome, thank you" in a hoarse, raspy voice. "We got whisky!" one of the volunteers said excitedly. This caught my attention immediately and shook me from my fuzzy mental state. "you have whisky?" I said. "Yeah! do you want to take a shot?" "Hell yeah, I do!" I responded with a grin. High Camp was the final aid station of the course, about three miles from the finish line. I plopped into a chair and after refilling my water bottles, the volunteer returned with two shots of whisky. We toasted and threw them down, which instantly made my body feel warm and tingly. I heard a familiar voice next to me. "Hey Liam! I had to quit man, I've been puking for the last three miles". It was Tim, a guy I had chatted with during the first loop of the race. Unfortunately his day ended up not going so well, but he didn't seem too disappointed with his situation. He had run this race as well as many others in the area several times. Some days you just don't have it, and that's okay. I bade him and the rest of the volunteers farewell as I dashed down the trail, which was almost all downhill from here on out. Taking in the scenery of the surrounding mountains a second time was more emotionally intense than the first time. I didn't struggle much during the first loop. But here I was, after dragging myself up to the top of Squaw Peak for a second time, feeling like I was going to die at several points, not sure if I could continue. But I pulled through and got myself through this meat grinder of a race, and now I was surrounded once again by beautiful mountain scenery as I ran along the switchbacks. Out of all of the races that I've done, I can't think of a time when I struggled so much, with the possible exception of Tahoe Rim Trail 100. Taking in the views of the mountains all around me after going through all of that madness was mind altering, to say the least. When I completed the descent and ran towards the finish line in the village, I saw Sam on the side of the course. I crossed the finish line with my arms in the air and was so overcome with emotion that I hugged the volunteer who put my medal around my neck. Immediately afterwards I hobbled over to Sam and gave her an even bigger hug. Having her at the finish line put me into a whole other reality and I couldn't have been happier. At the end of the day, I had climbed and descended 10,030 feet over 28.8 miles, experienced moments where I felt like I had the entire universe in my pocket and, in turn, experienced other moments where I felt like a walking pile of dog shit. The manner in which the race ended was the perfect way to top it all off.
The aftermath of the race was the funniest part of the whole day. As I mentioned up top, we runners know all too well the feeling of having our brains fried after races when we feel like we're going to die along the way. Given that I struggled especially hard during this race and I still managed to finish, my mind was at about a nine on the one to ten scale of post race brain mushiness. Sam was very understanding of my ridiculousness and listened as I went on like an insane madman about how awesome the experience was and how much I struggled during the race. I give her kudos for being patient with me because I wasn't really all there. That patience muddled after a little while. It started as we walked through the village and we passed by a tent that was serving snacks and quesadillas. "Hey, look, they have lots of snacks here. You're probably starving". "Actually, nah, I'm okay for now. I'm not that hungry" I answered back. "But look, there's so many snacks here" she said as she walked over towards the tent. I reluctantly followed her and told the volunteer at the tent thanks, but I wasn't feeling very hungry yet, since I had just finished the race. Sam looked at me and rolled her eyes. "I'm getting snacks". "No, I'm okay, really" I said back. "It's okay, we'll save them for later or for the ride home tomorrow" she responded. I took that as my queue to just be quiet, so I said okay. Of course that was all on the surface. Internally I was saying "I'm not hungry right now, I don't want any goddamn snacks! I just want to go back to the condo, take a shower, and rest for a little while, then I'll be hungry". And in Sam's head, she was saying "I get that you're not hungry, but they're free snacks that we can have later. Just shut up and take them!". Another episode occurred as we were exiting the village to go to the car. I wanted nothing more than to just go back to the condo, take a shower, relax for a little while, then go have a big dinner once hunger set in. Just as we were nearing the exit, Sam stopped at tent selling CBD products. Again, I patiently followed her to the tent and spent a few minutes looking at the display items with Sam while the vendors talked in detail about the products, hoping we would buy something. None of it was sinking in. It was simply too much information for my brain to process in that moment. When the sales people paused for a few seconds, I saw my chance to finally chime in. "That's cool guys, but honestly I'm not at my best right now and I need to go recover for a little while. You guys will be here tomorrow right?" They said yes, and I told them that we'd be back to check them out tomorrow after I was feeling more with it. When we finally made it back to the car, Sam just stared at me. "What?" I said as I smiled innocently. "Those people at the CBD booth were trying to tell you that you get a free Epsom salts sample for finishing the race." I looked at her confusingly. "They did?" "Yes, you doofus!" she shot back with a laugh. She held up a small pouch. "I grabbed your free sample for you". I told her thanks, but I said that I was just going to take a shower, I didn't need that stuff. "But your legs are seized up, and if you take a thirty minute bath with these, it'll help with your pain". "No, I'll be okay. I just want to take a shower". She'd heard enough. "Okay, listen. How about this" she replied with a hint of frustration. "These were a free sample, so just use them and see how they feel. THEN you can take a shower". She didn't wait for my response and instead just said "you're using these". I just looked at her and we both burst into a fit of laughter like a couple of hyenas. I'm sure the sales people at the tent mentioned the free samples, but it just wasn't registering in my brain. It wasn't sinking in that it was a free sample, and all I had to do was take it. It didn't involve any decision making. Once again, internally I was saying "I don't want any goddamn Epsom salts right now. I just want to go back to the condo and recover". Internally, Sam was saying "It's a free sample. Take the fucking Epsom salts and use them! They'll help you". Sam was rational, I was not. After the laughter calmed down, I agreed to take a bath with the Epsom salts and we headed back to the condo as the sun began to set.
Some people who are reading this might be wondering what in the hell happened to me based on the behavior I was displaying. Well, the answer is 28.8 miles with 10,030 feet of climbing and descending at an an average elevation of 8,000 feet happened to me. I think that about sums it up. I'm grateful that Sam urged me to take a bath with the Epsom salts. I will say, they certainly did the trick. After I took a bath and got cleaned up, my muscles were already feeling a lot less sore when we went out for dinner that night. The race series is a weekend long event at Squaw Village, so the next morning we visited the vendor booths again after I was feeling more refreshed. That experience was much more pleasant than the experience of visiting them right after finishing the race, and I shared a laugh with the sales people over how out of it I was the day before. When the smoke cleared, I was pretty sure that Broken Arrow was the most challenging race I had ever done. Sure I had run races that featured more elevation gain on similar terrain, but I had never run a race with so much elevation gain packed into such a short distance. The epic course and the struggle I faced will stay with me forever and I look forward to doing this race again someday.
