My 2024 Never Summer 100k
My 2024 Never Summer 100k
July 28, 2024: An indepth race recap and philosophical exploration of my run
I made it to Canadian Aid, mile 52, without a minute to spare. I sat down in a chair under a pop-up tent as my crew surrounded me. The storm arrived. The winds gusted high as the volunteers grabbed at the tents to keep them grounded. The lightning bore down upon us as if Zeus himself was aiming to strike us all down. It was too much to handle. I had been running over mountains for 13 hours now, the last 5 hours and 20 miles I hadn’t seen my crew. I broke down, the emotions were too much to handle. The storm was frightening but it was easy to block out, I just focused on eating between the tears. We switched my shoes and socks, put on my rain jacket, and loaded me up with food and water. My partner, Maddy, dawned her gear to prepare to pace me to the finish some 14 miles away. Despite the emotions and the weather, Maddy and I left mere minutes after I had run into Canadian. The rain instantly started soaking us, the wind howling and the lightning moving further into the mountains beyond us.
Just like that, I only had 14 miles to go. I had glanced at my watch only a few times throughout the day but I did notice the numbers remaining. 40 miles to go, 30 miles to go, 20, 14. Physically, I was doing good when I left Canadian. Mentally, I was starting to unravel. Let’s rewind to the start of the day.
Saturday, 3:30am
That was when I woke up, or was it 3am? I tossed and turned much that night but when my alarm went off I didn’t need much to get me going. The adrenaline already filled my body. I quickly got dressed and exited the tent. I turned on the camp lantern and started brewing some coffee on the camp stove and making a bagel. My family and Maddy trickled out of their sleeping arrangements one by one looking much more dazed than me. Maddy braided my hair into two short pig tails while I ate. Afterwords, I filled up my first flasks and loaded my vest and waist belt up. We left camp at 4:40.
5:20am
Activation exercises, family photos, final bathroom runs. Double check shoe laces, hugs and lasting encouragement.
5:30am, Mile 0
The start was quick. I stood a good few rows back from the front and on the side of the corral to make sure I wouldn’t get the urge to sprint the start or get squeezed out by the number of runners. Everyone was very sociable the first few miles. The first three miles were by and large very flat and runnable. People were cracking jokes, making small talk, talking about why they were doing the race, so on. It was a good scene. I fell in with a crew and quickly found myself near the front of a line of 15 or so runners. We started the climb up the first highpoint, Seven Utes Mountain, and the 2,300 foot climb felt quite smooth.
The sun rose upon the landscape as many of us summited the peak. The Nokhu Crags in front of us glistened in alpen glow in all their rugged beauty. Behind us the Park Range some 30 miles away also glowed. The Medicine Bows to the north held the sun’s light lovingly on their east side while contrasted by the absence of it on the west. I choose not to look north at the mountains I’d be in later, but behind to the valley and the Park Range. The views were simply incredible.
6:45am, Mile 6
The descent off Seven Utes is short but stupidly steep. I choose to take it incredibly slow, hoping to save my quads for late in the day. Many runners passed by me but I was glad to lose the group I was with. I was now feeling less social and was hoping to run by myself. Of course with 308 runners starting and only a few miles in people were everywhere, but I settled into a crew that was respectfully spaced out and quiet. We made good tracks to Lake Agnes at mile 10 where the trail turned incredibly technical. This was fitting given the Lake’s position beneath the ever-crooked and jagged Nokhu Crags. My crew was a part of many of the spectators who hurried to this spot to watch runners. They gave me some cheers as I quickly ran by and down to the Michigan Ditch. We contoured around some mountain sides on the ditch before arriving at the first aid station.
7:50am, Mile 11.4
I filled flasks, ditched some trash, and felt like I had a lengthy stop. In contrast though it was less than two minutes when I looked at my watch. I was fully in the front of the pack and the trail was busy as I left. We climbed up towards the American Lakes and near the top I fell in line with a little crew of runners. One sociable guy from Utah, Elijah, made an effort to get to know me and we spent many miles chatting it up. We talked about running, our lives, kinda everything. It helped the twisting miles of descending down to Diamond Aid go by quickly.
9:20am, Mile 18.3
I ran into Diamond Aid with Elijah and a few others. This was the first crewed aid and my folks were ready. They were dialed, my Dad replaced my flasks as I sipped on some sparkling waters. Maddy loaded my vest up with snacks, my Mom sunscreened me and my brother, Sam, got media. It was a hyper efficient stop and I was out well ahead of Elijah and other nearby runners.
Elijah caught up quick to me and so did another runner. We continued chatting but as our climb up North Diamond Peak quickly ramped up I fell back into my own pace. As the climb continued I felt worse. We left the trail and b-lined it straight up the west ridge of the peak. As we exited the trees the clouds shrouded the sun and the winds picked up. For some seconds I was worried about getting some cold sweats but I was able to stay just warm enough as is while moving. I summited North Diamond, high fived some spectators, and began the three miles of rolling alpine ridge to Montgomery Aid.
Around this point I began to notice I was dehydrated. It had been a while since I last peed. I had neglected to take my planned salt tabs in the opening hours of the race because I was sweating shortly after the start. Of course logic would say that because I was sweating I would need the extra salt even more so, but in the heat of the moment I neglected to think that thought through.
I tried to reset and start hammering fluids and salt. Gels were getting hard to put down due to my thirst so I focused on liquid calories. At Montgomery Aid, mile 24.3, I refilled flasks and took some salted potatoes to go with me. The volunteers at Montgomery were incredibly helpful and encouraging. I was a bit flustered from my dehydration challenges and was trying to hide that but their sincerity eased my nerves greatly.
I began the six mile stretch to Ruby Jewel. The first two miles we descended off of the ridge down an incredibly steep, rutted, and rocky jeep road. The following miles were rolling through meadows and forests. The sun was getting quite high and hot in the meadows now so I took every chance to dunk my bandana in a creek before wrapping it around my neck. The trail was hard to call a trail at times. It was muddy and boggy. Overgrown and ankle-breaking lumpy. It was just hard.
12:36pm, Mile 30.5
I ran into Ruby Jewel. I felt good physically but definitely needed a little loving. I was on the right track to get my hydration back on track but it would still take more time. I drank a good amount of liquid and had some salty snacks and pickle juice. On my way out a received a sponge bath, ice in the hat, and a fresh ice bandana. I began the climb up the Kelly Lake Pass, the third climb and one of the hardest. It’s just long, at elevation, and south facing in the heat of the day. It’s also the start of a 20ish mile stretch with no crewed aid. At this point in the day, that was a daunting prospect, one I choose to simply shut down in my mind. I got passed multiple times on the ascent. My mind felt like it had been in a rut for a while, really since leaving Diamond.
At the top of Kelly Lake Pass a runner in front of me stopped to take a photo. I asked if he’d like me to take one of him and he did. We started running together after that. The descent to Kelly Lake was quite challenging. Large boulders compiled the scree fields up high before the trail turns to steep and loose dirt. The runner, who’s name I didn’t get during the race but afterwards learned it was Charles, asked me how my day was going. I said it wasn’t as good as I had hoped but that I was doing it. This started a 10 minute conversation which turned my day around. He asked a few more questions and I soon realized that many of my concerns and frustrations with the day so far were pointless. We talked deeply about being able to appreciate and be grateful for being on the trail right there. The ideas we discussed served me hard, but truthful reminders. My headspace was doing a 180 into one of clarity and joy. On top of that I realized I was doing much better on hydration now and feeling a bit better as a result.
Some spaces would open up between Charles and I but a few miles later after my mind had come around I thanked him for the discussion back on the pass. He said it’s just part of the sport and that all of us runners are a team out on the course helping each other get to the finish. Charles dropped me on the descent to Clear Lake 1 but with my mind in a much better space I was quite content and still moving well. The weather flirted with stroms during this section but other than some quiet rumbles and some spitting rain I was spared.
3:23pm, Mile 40
I took some time at Clear Lake 1. My shoes needed a change, my left one having about a two inch laceration in the toe box. I presume this was from a rock at some point earlier in the day. Fresh shoes and socks felt great but I was slightly worried. My new shoes at my drop bag here didn’t have nearly as much cushion as my other ones did. For the next four miles that would be okay, those miles being the most technical of the whole race. But for the following six to Canadian, those were runnable and mostly downhill miles. I worried the lack of cushion could lead to a quicker deterioration of my legs.
I walked the entire Clear Lake out and back. Two miles up, two miles back, 1000 feet of gain on the most technical, difficult trail of the entire day. I was amazed at the ability of many runners to run the descent on this section. I for one did not want to risk destroying my quads, or use up the mental energy needed for the focus. I saw both Elijah and Charles on the out and back and both had put significant time on me. Nevertheless we exchanged “nice jobs” and “see you laters”.
When I strolled back into Clear Lake I again rested for a minute. I had a dry cough that was bugging me so I sipped on some veggie broth while refilling flasks. I didn’t linger long though and started pushing to Canadian. The trail quickly became extremely boggy and I had to accept my feet were going to get wet. I ran many parts of the trail to Canadian which was fulfilling considering this spot was where I began to meet my maker during last year's race. However, the lack of cushion in the shoes began to wither away at my right achilles, making it painful to step with that foot. My only hope was that new shoes at Canadian would provide the support the achilles needed.
As I neared Canadian I grew excited to see my crew. However, there was an incredible storm brewing to the southwest. As I neared the aid station there were some spectators some distance out. I asked them each if the storm appeared to be coming our way. I did not have the mental energy by this time in the day to track the path of the storms or the winds. They all said yes.
6:43pm, Mile 51
And so I arrived at Canadian. I was feeling alright physically, yet mentally, I fell apart instantly. I think the presence of having my crew there subconsciously allowed me to lower my guard and let some emotions come forward. Mostly emotions of stress and fatigue. I wept, then ate, and then hit the trail again but with Maddy as pacer. The storm raged on. I had a quick bathroom break on the side of trail a mile out of Canadian that gave me a second wind. New shoes with extra cushion eased my aching achilles as well.
.
The rain began to be on and off but it had done a number. The trail was turning into a slip and slide of mud and the added clouds seemed to block out the sun for the remaining time it had left in the day. That was an unfortunate prospect, the dark arriving earlier than expected and no sunset.
With some luck though, the clouds cleared just enough for a sunset to be had, and what a sunset it was. I was quickly becoming less conscious through the hours of effort making the experience ever the more magical and emotional. I’ll let the unedited photos of the sunset do the speaking.
Shortly after the sunset my mind fell back into a bad space. It had been quite good for a while with the exception of needing to vent at Canadian, but now things were different. I think the wear and tear of the day were truly taking a toll now. I told Maddy that I was in a bad headspace and just needed to cry. I did just so while still moving. We entered a meadow and were getting quite close to Bockman. We opted to name the meadow “Misery Meadow” in honor of the emotions I was feeling.
8:45pm, Mile 56
We jogged into Bockman minutes after turning on our headlamps. The storm had seriously cooled things off and I was beginning to fight to stay warm. I sat next to another runner in an tent with a propane heater sipping on soup. We relayered my upper body and loaded my vest up with extra layers before sending me out. While I had battled tough mental spaces all day, for the first time I felt some sense of hopelessness. I was scared, I knew the final eight miles were hard, they could take a long time.
Nevertheless, I left Bockman with Maddy. We jogged on and off but I quickly lost the mental fortitude to keep jogging. However, I could keep moving at a swift walk. The trail climbs for four miles out of Bockman and progressively ramps up. As we climbed the mountain the temperature sunk, periodic sleet seemed to dance in front of our headlamps but I payed little attention to that. I was hurting now. I was deep in the pain cave and the mental toll was becoming almost unbearable.
My sense of time and distance were completely gone and suddenly living in the present moment had become a curse, not a blessing. All I could do was keep moving. Yet, in the dark, we could only see as far as our headlamps shown. You could no longer see lengthy swaths of the course, your vision confined to 20 or 40 foot distances. It was like my mind was imprisoned in dimly-lit maze where try as you may to see far, you simply could not. This caused me much mental agony in the final miles.
At some point we went over the final mountain. Then we had a two mile steep descent to Ranger Lakes, a checkpoint two miles before the finish. I tried running pitches of the descent but the steep grade hurt my knees too much. We arrived at Ranger Lakes and I had some warm water and sat for a few minutes. I was lost in my head, deep in the hurt. I needed to compose myself for the final two miles. The final two miles felt lengthy, yet faster than last year at least. It wasn’t pretty, I walked pretty much all of those two miles. But I did jog across the line this year, shortly after 12:27am on Sunday, with a race time of 18 hours and 57 minutes.
I embraced Maddy deeply and began tearing up before hugging my parents. They rushed me inside where I could sit and get warm. I began sipping on some fluids and began to warm up, feeling all the emotions possible. Relief, gratefulness, appreciation, sorrow, pain, everything. Relief from finishing, the last eight miles requiring me to dig incredibly deep. Gratefulness, for my body, my family, Maddy, the race organizers and volunteers, the other runners I shared the trail with, the mountains for safe travels, for everything. Appreciation for the moment, the beauty in the suffering. Sorrow, from the finish, the let down, and just how much I endured. Pain, physical and mental that I pushed through. Not just from this day, but from the weeks and months of training. The people I trained with, the places I ran and biked at. All the sessions in the gym lifting. Just everything.
It’s hard to describe the emotions I felt during the day. Furthermore, the emotions in the last 10 miles. When I got to Canadian I just cried spontaneously. I didn’t know it was coming, but it surely needed to happen. Similarly that happened a few miles later on the trail. I heard a story from this year’s Western States and I forget who, but one of the elites had a cry session mid race on the trail. They told their pacer they just needed to cry while running and they did just so. It’s validating to know that the pro’s are feeling the emotions too, that it’s okay to show that side of you during a race. Especially when that side is often labeled vulnerable and weak. If you need more reason to disprove that idea, look to the emotions one feels on the trail deep into a race.
It’s addicting for me to go long. I think it’s because it forces you to be present in the moment for so long. Of course it has its downsides. If you think too far ahead it’s easy to get lost in despair. I believe that’s the main reason for why I struggled so much mentally during this race. People like Elijah early on helped take my mind off things, as well as Charles later in the race. But when you can control the mind, become truly immersed in the present, not focusing on future legs of the race, that’s where the magic happens. I think that’s one of the reasons the latter sections of the race are so magical. The mind has less to focus on ahead of the current section, thus it’s easier to be in the present. I’ve noticed other extenuating circumstances can grab the mind’s attention too. For example, the beauty of the sunset was so ridiculous (and that I didn’t expect a sunset at all) that it launched me into a moment of incredible clarity and presence.
This race definitely wasn’t my strongest outing mentally. I am disapointed that I wasn’t better prepared mentally for the mental challenges. After the sunset I fell into that bad headspace in Misery Meadows. Having become so present in the moment so drastically made it quite easy for my tired mind to spontaneously do just the opposite; Spin into a not-present, negative headspace. Yet, I proved to myself that I do have the ability to grit it out when it does get tough, at least with my current mental skills and strengths. You have to keep training the mind just as one does with the body, routine, day after day. This race served as an important reminder for myself and mental training.
Ultimately, these races provide me with a vehicle to explore my own mind, as well as the limitations of my body. The above thoughts are merely just the ramblings of my mind as I try to process this event.
So for some fun thoughts to wrap things up instead of ending on a weird philosophy discussion of my mind:
18-22 servings of Tailwind. (I don’t know because I don’t remember how much I drank in those final stretches.) That equates to at least 3,600 calories, 12,120mg of sodium, 1,080 grams of carbs.
Favorite flavors: Dauwaltermelon for hitting the sweet tooth. Blueberry Lemonaid becuase the stuff was my go-go juice, I could drink it all day, tasted so so so good.
8 Carbs Fuel Gels. 1,600 calories, 840mg of sodium, 400 grams of carbs.
Lots and lots of potatoes in various forms. Favorite to least favorite forms are as follows: Boiled and salted, hashbrowns, mashed, tater tots, perogies.
Most interesting combo: Pickle on top of salted watermelon. It works but the flavors are both so strong that it was a lot to handle. Not necessarily a bad idea though, I will continue experimenting with this combo.
Best snacks: Rainbow Goldfish and Albanese Sour Gummy Bears
The crew after my finish.
