Race Report: Waldo 100k

I had originally registered for the Waldo 100k in 2022. On the heels of Broken Arrow 50k, I caught a tear in my achilles that resulted in a 6-8 week moratorium on running. Ultimately, I cancelled my registration weeks before Waldo, and pushed through the next three months of recovery.

This year I wanted to leave it all on the trail. Waldo was both my first 100k and a notoriously challenging course. Everything worked in favor of this race. My training was the best it's ever been, and less than a day before the race a rainstorm dispelled all of the smoke and dropped the anticipated heat down to the low-to-mid 70s. This year was a strong comeback, with several factors working to my advantage (including those I'd engineered to).

Training

I started kicking into gear around the turn of the year. Rode easy through early January with more focus on building my strength with training that incorporated more variety (yoga, barre, pilates, boot camp, and personal training). This ended up being a solid foundation, and set the tone for a strong season of training. Maybe my strongest yet. Around mid-January, I began increasing weekly runs and weekend mileage. I built a training schedule that included a few fun races:

• Deception Pass Marathon (March)

• Tiger Claw 50k (May)

• Broken Arrow 46k (June)

Each race brought their own challenges and victories, from PR'ing my marathon the week after a break-up to defeating nearly 90º heat over 8,800 feet elevation gain at Tiger Claw to glissading snow through Broken Arrow. Each challenge built my physical and mental stamina in ways that definitely paid off on race day.

Training was set in 1-2 week blocks, typically alternating climbing or speed work with complementary strength training built in (i.e. glutes and quads on climbing weeks, core and upper body on speed weeks, etc.) To avoid overtraining and injury (which, in part, led to my untimely demise in 2022) I whittled this down to 1 week blocks the last month of training. When I could, I joined the local chapter of Trail Sisters for weekend runs which pumped my energy and pace. The hardest and final training run was a ~40 mile run up three peaks on the Waldo course (Maiden, Fuji, and Maiden again). This run took place on the hottest day of the year in Willamette at nearly 90º. The first peak was a race against herds of mosquitos, who, without the deterrent of any sort of bug repellent, enjoyed a nice yummy blood smoothie across the entire backside of my body. To ice the red velvet-y cake, I ran into a gear issue about 16 miles in that left me without water for almost 5 miles. That run was death, and left me a bit shook pre-race.

In addition to a tough final training run, this year entailed battling superfluous work stressors and last-minute travel pre-race, despite my best attempts to prevent this well in advance. Dropping some knowledge here that was bestowed upon me a little too late: "No" is a full sentence.

Nutrition

Okay so, taking tips here, because this is an area I always struggle with. I've been a habitual snacker, who either snacks too much or too little during tough training blocks (which my body responds to poorly). Finding balance here continues to be a challenge. Generally, there are a few tried-and-true tricks I always apply, including:

• eating a wholly plants-based diet;

• a mix of intuitive eating and intermittent fasting (basically not starting the digestive day until my tummy calls for it and stopping the clock at 8 hours after "breaking fast");

• upping protein intake (usually daily smoothies + other natural sources);

• eating 200-300 calories per hour on long runs. RELIGIOUSLY.

All this worked well this year, with one notable addition: a moratorium on alcohol consumption. Barring a couple premeditated exceptions, I spent the last few months of training abstaining entirely from drinking. This gave me some serious advantages, many of which you can imagine (less bloating, healthier eating, better sleep quality and easier early runs). Some of the benefits were surprising, though. Generally I found myself more grounded, and less anxious. I found myself rehydrating much more quickly after long runs, and just generally drinking way more water. I also found my social engagements becoming more outdoor focused (with less sedentary activities), which definitely complemented training.

Overall, would 12/10 recommended at least severely limiting alcohol consumption during training.

Pre-Race

Leading up to Deception Pass, someone asked me if I had any pre-race rituals. This question came to me on the heels of both finishing Artist's Way and Yoga with Adrienne's 30-day yoga journey. Exploring daily ritual and practice had become deeply important to me, so a ritual sounded right.

The week preceding Deception Pass, I gave this more consideration. I thought more intentionally about how I wanted to feel on race day. How do I want to show up to the start line? How do I see myself running a successful race? Years ago I'd read an article that recommended "laying out your running [wo]man" the night before a race as a full gear check. But this year, I wanted to mentally prepare as well, so starting with Deception pass I broke my race ritual into two parts:

The night before I:

• eat a plants-foward dinner with healthy starchy carbs (i.e. sweet potatoes);

• take a hot shower;

• study the course, focusing on tougher sections;

• lay out my running [wo]man; and

• drink my hot tea + magnesium and go to bed EARLY.

The morning of I:

• drink my coffee;

• put on my race gear;

• choose my race mantra and recite it in a personal japamala practice; and

• place my mala on my right wrist, and head to the race.

Interestingly enough, just before Waldo 100k my trainer noted that placing that mala on my right wrist actually balanced my meridian and would help me on race day. (The things that happen when you follow your intuition, amiright?)

Running Waldo 100K

Days before Waldo, a friend jeered me, asking "If it's so hard, then why do you do it?" I responded "I'll let you know Sunday."

Race Day

The crew and I woke up around 3:10am on race day. Start was at 4:00am at Willamette Pass Ski Area, so after a brief coffee, light nibbles and crew-runner pep talking, we hit the road. For the first time in my racing life, I showed up to the start line late - at 1 minute past. I sprinted across the start line, was met with cheering supportive volunteers, and began the ascent up the first hill to catch up with the trail of headlights about 1/4 mile ahead.

I caught up pretty quickly. By the time I landed in Gold Lake I had manage to join the back-of-the-packers. I caught my crew, grabbed some water and snacks, and headed up the second ascent to Fuji Mountain.

Fuji Mountain to Mt. Ray On training day (three weeks before) Fuji was hot, covered in mosquitos, and left me without an ounce of water at the end. I was pleasantly shocked on race day to find myself jogging up the hillside, beating the bugs and making it to the top in good time. There was a bit of smoke hugging the upper level of the hill, which (I enjoyed a nice, easy cruise down through forest and meadow to Mt. Ray to make a quick pitstop before heading to The Twins. The Twins My run through to Twins was jammin'. It was mid-morning, perfect temp, smoke was dissipated, juice was high and I was amped. At this point in the day, my nutrition was on point, I was running on a 7/10 effort and still beating my usual pace. By the time I rolled into Charlton Lake (~50k, halfway point!) I was all smiles, with plenty of gas in the tank. I showed up to a crew that was more efficient than a Nascar pit stop with coconut smoothies, frozen water bottles, every snack in the book. Charlton Lake

From Charlton Lake it was a long route through burnt, ashy woods and throughikers. I found myself spending the stretch wondering what it might take to get more people on foot, on trails, close to the woods where they might get a better sense of what the earth really needs from us. I exchanged smiles with a few PCT hikers and pressed on. Road 4290

Arriving at Road 4290 was, in a word, other-worldy. The "Area 51" themed signs and alien heads posted in the 1/4 mile leading up to the station were welcome cheer rolling into the 37th mile after the third peak. My toes had begun accumulating some pissy blisters, so the aid station was a welcome reprieve. And, look. I knew I had a physician on the crew - and I knew she knew the ins and outs of ultras and runner care. What I didn't know, is that she's a blister remediation expert that runs foot care at one of the roughest aid stations at the Western States, and had come prepared with a full med kit. Before I could say "E.T. phone home" my shoes were off, the blister was delicately burst, iodine was (rather painfully) applied, fresh socks and shoes were on and tied. Popsicles and pickle juice down, pack restocked, pacer-of-the-year Tatsiana and I set out on the last 25 miles. 2nd Stop at The Twins

The gentle, sloping climb up Twins felt longer than the hikes preceding it, but the company was a lovely boost, so I continued to trot along with high spirits and a steady tank. We made decent time back to Twins, and comfortably beat the final cutoff. Tatsiana and I left the aid station confident that, come what may in the next 18 miles, I was going to finish this race. Maiden Peak: Up and Down

The climb to Maiden Peak, the tank started running low. I can't remember exactly when my stomach started to turn, but I'm chalking this climb up to it. My energy became purely focused on moving full steam ahead, and less focused on calories per hour. We traversed the next few miles with trail potty pit stops and sluggish steps, but still pushed the speed on downhills. When I got to Maiden, I had beat my prior 50 mile race time, a feat that gave me a bit of wind. I sat in a chaÏr, and felt the weariness set in. Tatsiana offered encouragement and motivated me to beat the light. At this point, I was about to push straight up hill beyond the longest mileage I had ever run. Fear settled in for the ride. The next few miles we brutal. I stopped, often. The stomach was turning and fighting. Tatsiana urged me to take in some fresh lemon, including the rind. This was surprisingly soothing.

The view from the peak was blood red. Smoke settling across the landscape consumed the rose gold rays from the sunset and painted war across the sky. I will never forget the image of a crimson sun screaming murder through the smoke it clung to before slipping behind the mountains. Now, the real race had begun; with the light gone, it was a race to the finish.

Dusk set in and headlamps came on while Tatsiana and I traveled through an invisible symphony of crickets to the next aid station. We arrived to hot broth and Jim, aid station captain of the year. Jim, with the kindest eyes in the world, commiserated on his first Waldo DFL. He talked me through the next few small climbs, the turns I'd take, and the final sign I'd see to the finish. After sharing his famous "happy" blueberries, we were on our way. The Finish Line

The last 7.5 miles were pure focus. Holding a conversation became difficult. But, as bizarre as this might sound, I remember feeling so surprised by how serene I felt. No panic about reaching the end. No panic about losing energy, or the battle to stay on track I was waging within. Even though the body was steeped in stiffness and screaming in pain, and I kept focus on the lit square foot before me through to the finish.

It took me a solid couple of minutes in the arms of my crew and closest friends before realizing I'd been met at the finish by Craig Thornley himself. We shared a few words, and he was every bit the humble legend and race directing hero I'd hoped he'd be.

The Why

We're called psychopaths for doing this. Those of us committed to the ultra life know, we are ever in search for our why. Everyone on the trail arrives at it differently, but we all sort of coalesce around some variation of "because I want to see what I'm capable of".

Even if it was a crawl, today, I was capable of staring down 62.5 challenging miles to the finish.

Recovery

Recovery has been rough at best. Repeating mistakes I'd made pre-race, I'd accepted family plans a short three days after the race (note to future self: travel moratoriums are advised). Travel drag combined with limited food options, compromised sleep, and just general added exhaustion made the road to recovery a bit longer than it may have been under more stable circumstances. With that said, though, is there anything better than waking up to mom's homemade vanilla latté, seeing the sunset from your parent's porch or watching the first Seahawks game of the season couch-side with your pops?

Summary

Overall, this race was tough, but my finish still feels like a best-case-scenario and leaves plenty of room to be avenged. It took eight months of training and recovering from an injury to finish.

Along the way, this is what I learned:

The pros included:

• a stronger strength training base;

• limiting alcohol consumption, leading to clearer mind and body;

• a longer runway for training;

• registering for multiple races which kept training sharp and fun.
  

The cons were:

• recovering from injury (presumably due to stress and overtraining);

• too much travel which depleted energy;

• tackling a big first on a tough course;

• needing a bit more fine-tuning to overall nutrition.

I may not have snatched the sub-18 WSER points I wanted, but I'm pleased with a finish. I clearly have a ways to go before I'm WSER-ready.

It's hard to say I might have finished if it wasn't for my legendary crew: Kira, Heather, and Tawnya, and especially my pacer, coach, and dearest friend Tatsiana. (If you want to experience the best of the best, join her world at Verve Training.) For now, I'm looking forward to hitting more ambitious goals in 2024.