In May of 2018 I began seeing a therapist shortly after my former wife and I split up. We've talked once a week for nearly three years now, and in that time, we've talked about a wide variety of things. We talk about pretty much anything and everything. Sometimes it gets deep, sometimes it doesn't. Earlier today though, we spent the entire fifty minute session talking about my upcoming 100K run this weekend. Believe it or not, yes, I actually did spend almost a whole hour mumbo jumbo-ing about an ultramarathon.
Over the last four years, this race has repeatedly vexed me. The first time I attempted the Canyons 100K in 2017, I was completely unprepared. I had run my first 50K eight months prior, and ran no further than a marathon's distance between that run and Canyons. Looking back, I have no idea what I was thinking when I thought I could fake my way through a 100K with such light training. The course beat me into submission, and I was forced to drop out at mile forty-eight after arriving at the aid station thirty minutes after the cutoff time. I have nobody or nothing to blame except myself, and my foolish and unrealistic optimism. Not finishing the race was a valuable lesson, and I'm grateful that it happened. The following year I trained properly and went back to seek redemption. The hard work paid off, and I finished within the cutoff time and got my Western States qualifier. It was a proud moment. I realized at that finish line that I was stronger and more capable than I ever thought I was. When I returned in 2019, the course had to be re-routed due to record snowfall after an enormous winter in the California Sierras. To add to the complexity, it was a warm and balmy day on race day. The Canyons 100K course certainly lives up to it's name. It traverses the Western States trail through the notorious "canyons" section, which includes several steep and lengthy climbs and descents. The deep sections of these canyons are often ten to twelve degrees warmer than the rest of the course, and on this day, the temperature reached the low eighties. I had a great first half, however the heat caught up with me around mile forty. I wasn't prepared for the heat, and by the time I reached mile forty-five, I was cramping up with every step, dry heaving, and contending with heat related nausea. I didn't have enough sodium and electrolytes in my system, and I was too far gone to make up for the deficit. It's like overdrawing your bank account by $300 and someone says "here's $200. Will this solve the problem?" Nope. "How about $50 more?" Nope, that still won't do it. "Well, tough shit, that's all we can give you". I made the painful decision to once again drop out at mile forty-eight. Again, I learned a valuable lesson from this DNF, but this time, I wanted blood. Five weeks later I finished the Bishop High Sierra 100K and went on to finish the Tahoe Rim Trial 100-miler that July. In April of 2020 the race was called off because of...well...that big thing that came in and changed the entire world the month before. It was the first of many races I had that were cancelled in 2020, but I opted to do a solo self supported 50K run in the Bay Area on race day to keep my ultramarathon fire burning.
And, that brings us to now. Canyons 2021. The race that's been on my mind for the last several months. The race that I've been rambling to my girlfriend, my therapist, and my friends about for the last few weeks. And here I am again doing it on this blog post. How do I feel about it now that it's only two days away? Well, I have a lot of nervous excitement. I'm excited because I haven't run a live in person ultramarathon since January of 2020. Also, I love this course and this trail. It's one of my favorite places to run. I'm nervous though, because this will be the furthest I've run since Tahoe Rim Trail 100 in July of 2019. Also, this is a hard ass race. It's sixty-two miles with 15,000 feet of climbing. A lot of things can happen and it could go a number of different ways. Some good, some not so good. I'd like to think that I will have a good day though. So far, all of the ducks seem to be in a row in terms of what I can't control. To start off, the race is actually happening. That's great news in it's own right. The run will be on a modified course to allow more room for social distancing. We will be running a point to point course from Overlook Park in Auburn to the China Wall campground in Foresthill. I've been on this whole course before at some point during other races I've done, except for the last ten miles. We'll just have to see how that part goes. Additionally, the State of California has allowed us to all start at the same time at 5 AM as opposed to having staggered starts, and there will be aid stations every eight miles with packaged treats, plenty of hydration, and lots of awesome volunteers. The weather forecast is supposed to be excellent; mostly cloudy, in the high fifties, low sixties. In terms of what I can control, I feel cautiously optimistic, but again, anything can happen out there. I've been putting in some big miles over the last couple of months, including a sixty mile week a couple of weeks ago. Among those sixty miles was a thirty-one mile all night run along the shore of Lake Tahoe. Over the last two weeks I've been tapering, doing more uphill hiking to prepare myself for the inclines, and ramping up on my strength and core training, which I began dabbling more into about five months ago.
All I can do now is try my best to make sure my head is in the right place. My therapist advised me to think positive, but don't repress the negative feelings because then they'll scream at me even more loudly. "Welcome the negative feelings and tell yourself it's just anxiety, and you can push through it". Part of the mental game is also telling myself that a finish would be fantastic, but if things go wrong and I don't make it to the finish line, it's not the end of the world. I can't be afraid of failure. There are plenty of other 100Ks that I can run. Canyons is not the absolute and final word in ultrarunning. Still though, I will absolutely do everything in my power to finish this run and get my Western States qualifier for 2022. I can do it. I'm capable. I have nineteen hours to travel sixty-two miles on foot. Pure and simple. I either succeed or fail. My girlfriend and I leave for Auburn on Friday afternoon, and at 5 AM on Saturday morning, it's go time. I can't say exactly what the result will be, but I'm cautiously optimistic. We'll see how it goes!
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