Being my first ultra-marathon, I periodically wrote down different thoughts or feelings I had regarding running such a distance – anxieties, achievements, and frustrations, as well as things I’ve learned throughout the process of not only running the race, but training for it as well – please enjoy, especially the vlog.
As a note: writings written asynchronously to the creation of this blog post are italicized for reference.
Preparations and Training
The most common question I received upon telling someone I was planning to run a 100km distance was: “why?!?!” My answer: “I’m not quite sure.” Perhaps it is slightly masochistic – choosing to put your body in intense pain for a long period of time – but there is something oddly thrilling, or incredibly rewarding about this experience. The challenge too, or doubt, that what you are trying to accomplish may not be achieved provides both excitement, anxiety, and discipline which ultimately allows one to push the mental limits of their own self-inflicting expectations. That is, always do what you are afraid to do!
I first signed up for the Canyons 100k under the influence of my friends – also ultra-runners. I never thought I would be capable of running for 60+ miles, but their excitement for the race and high encouragement made me feel like I could do it. The combination of their support, mixed with my mild impulsive/craziness, made me sign up at the end of November. At this time, I would run where I could, and enjoyed it, but I have to say, this race and the process of training for something, both changed and enlivened my love for running.
My friend PK (co-owner of this blog), being an ultra-runner himself, kindly drafted me a training plan. It was written on grid paper no less, which offered both an officialness as well as expectation that I follow it. Which I would, quite diligently, for my final Spring 2023 semester.
It was structured by “hours on feet” instead of “miles ran,” which I personally enjoyed as I found it offered more flexibility in terms of how to structure and manage my training runs.
At the start of my senior year spring, my training began. The beginning weeks were pretty managable, and felt similar to how I ran prior to training. However, as the weekly hours increased, my body and mind began to feel the effects. I think for the better, but I found my lifestyle to be subtly changing: turning down college parties, alcohol, and going out late with friends, in exchange for better sleep, better rest, and better focus in order to have a more successful training run. Not only that, I found myself far more exhausted after all the exercise. Most of my commitments and choices that semester revolved around running. It was a change, to say the least, but each week, I could feel my strength growing. Although it was a sacrifice, the slow satisfaction I was receiving from the growing strength of my running was an experience I had never before felt, which made it all worth it.
This brings me to what it is I love about running: gradual progress. In this regard, it feels to be one of the best form of delayed gratification. One cannot run a long distance overnight, but rather, as you slowly increase the mileage, by not only investing in, but trusting and committing to yourself, you slowly begin to see and feel the returns. One day you wake up and go for a run and realize that you could in fact, and do, have the strength to run for 60+ miles.
The Course
Canyons Endurance Runs happens in the town of Auburn, California – the alleged “birthplace of mountain ultras” and “endurance capital of the world.” Run by UTMB, the races include distances from 25 to 160 kilometers.
The course I planed to attempt was the 100k race, counting 62.9 miles as well as 10,500 ft of elevation gain – approximately 3,200 meters (I apologize for the sporadic metrics.)
While the race begins and ends in the town of Auburn, it also traffics through the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range, the American River, and includes parts of the Western States’ route.
The course itself was absolutely beautiful and if one ever finds themselves in the town of Auburn I would recommend you explore their trails.
Arrival to Auburn
Ben and I drove up from Los Angeles to Auburn Thursday evening. Nerves, at this time, were incredibly high. It felt as if all thoughts revolved around the race. Generally, too, I am able to aid my stress via running. However, the “tapering,” in preparation for running the race, disallowed me from doing such, only increasing my angst.
This is well represented in my writings from the day before the race: Sitting inside a cafe and seeing a mix of awkward, smoothie-drinking high schoolers as well as excessively fit ultra-runners, all while trying to write a research paper for an Irish history course and complete a computer science assignment, both for classes of which I do not attend – my stress levels are high.
Later that day we went food shopping, finished our assignments, and then met up with Ishaan and Marco – fellow USC runners who were planning to run the 25k – at the lovely establishment: Applebees. After dinner, Ben and I prepared and assembled our miscellaneous gear, and nervously fell asleep in anticipation for our 3am wake up and 100k race.
Race Day! Vlog!
I thought the experience of actually running the course would be best summarized through live-action footage. So without further ado I present to you: the vlog.
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Ben also finished! Yay! (Sorry it was not documented in the vlog.)
Link to strava post: https://www.strava.com/activities/8981383096
Thoughts & Reflections
Although I was incredibly joyous upon completing the 100k, following the race, I felt a rush of emotions – both good and bad – of which I did not anticipate. I wrote my thoughts down at the time, but wanted to include them in this blog post as I think they showcase the realities of life’s inherent volatility.
My writings from the day after the race:
Wow. I cannot even begin to feel the joy, reward, and feeling of accomplishment that came from completing a race such as this. I felt like I endured a challenge unlike no other – never have I before felt so focused and in touch with my mind and body for so long. No music, no thoughts, just running. One foot in front of the next, maybe observing the beauty of the trees, but other than that, mental peace … calm.
It is odd to me now as it all feels to be a blur. As if the mind seeks to block out all of the pain – only remembering all of the joys, the journey. I think the focus that was captured in the race is what makes me want to do it all over again. It is a moment to push yourself, a challenge you’ve been anticipating, waiting for. The anxieties leading up to the race feel like fuel – the fact that there is this embedded doubt. Perhaps too the linearity of it all. That you know it gets increasingly difficult as the day goes on and miles accumulate.
I want to be out there in the mountains again: feeling charged, feeling discomfort. Growing, challenging yourself, and facing your fears. Zoned in.
My writings from 9 days after the race:
As of late, I have felt incredibly sad. Although I did it, I completed my 100k race – something I had been working towards all semester – I feel oddly incomplete. Lost, perhaps.
What feels most weird is knowing how good I felt during race day. The laughable irony: that when I was in the most pain was when I felt my best. I think this brought about abundant feelings of accomplished. I worked hard, I pushed my body, and it was rewarded. I felt absolutely exhausted after the race – however my blood and brain: rushing with adrenaline. I barely slept that night, perhaps a total of 4 – 6 hours due to the immense pain my body was in. The following day, I hobbled around like an old-lady. Laughable, really.
The day after the race I have never felt so relaxed. I knew I had just put my body through hardship, so I was letting it rest, giving it thanks. As a person, I often feel I have trouble sitting still. Although it leads to many endeavors, sometimes it feels frustrating when “resting” feels so bad. I always think: “no, you can’t just sit around, you have the whole day, how can you waste it?!?” While this is, to an extent, good – it often opens incredible opportunity for accomplishing your goals – the importance of rest is equally important and should be valued in similar respects. (Or at least I am now learning.)
Training for a race like this is interesting as it presents many dichotomies to ponder. For one, working your body to the extreme, followed by immense rest. Although I was able to run for 66 miles — to recover from such a thing takes time, which I suppose many other long-distance runners struggle with this as well. For so many months, I had dedicated multiple hours a week to running. Most weeks, I was on my feet for about 10-12 hours a week, however, the number gets even higher when one accounts for the stretching, the showering, the early bed-time from increased tiredness, as well as all of the other things that come from such a pursuit. Although this was a challenge – balancing this routine amongst the lifestyle of college – I found it to work well with my make-up. Getting to run often, being on my feet, allowed me to explore and get closer to nature. Not only that, but it also offered mediative escape and therapeutic benefits. Yes, although the impending anxiety of the approaching race day was causing some anxiety, when I ran, it aided all of the stress.
Now, however, I am unable to run. And I think this makes me feel oddly disconnected from a very crucial aspect of myself. What do you do when something so key to your lifestyle suddenly becomes erased? Not only is running gone, but so too is the anticipation of the race – I miss all the crazy excitement that came from that. I took 8 days off running – the first few days were easy, my body felt tired, and I felt deserving of the rest. However, now, I feel frustrated that it is not yet ready to go. I felt good for so long. Why am I not able to be on my feet? I ran this morning – a distance of only 2 miles – and even this seemed to invoke knee pain and foot tightness. I know that I will run again, but right now it feels difficult to just “sit around.” I want to move!
Not being able to run has made me think about its meaning. Upon further reflection I’ve concluded that running is an oddly selfish hobby. For the most part, it doesn’t involve others – at least not for me – and requires that you are gone from those you care about for multiple hours at a time, using your mental stamina for miles instead of social exchanges. Not to say I don’t love this, I have always enjoyed my alone time, but just reflecting upon its impact.
The process of training and preparing for Canyons I too have been thinking about. I used to never think I could run that distance. Impossible, I said. Terrifying. But I did, somehow. And I was able to through training, by committing time and energy to running and its improvement. It was a gradual progression, but that is what I so much love about running: she’s a slow burn. Diligently, and in time, I increased my milage, and with such, came increased strength. If you commit X amount of hours to anything, overtime, you will see the improvements, it’s only a matter of what it is you wish to invest the variable X into.
Running with the intent and motivation of a race is, to an extent, easy. You have an “end goal” in sight, where in a lot of other hobbies, this might be harder to foster. However, Canyons has taught me how the idea of a “race day” can, and should, be applied to any endeavor.
Due to the fact that I am unable to run currently (have you grown tired of hearing this yet), I have been thinking about other hobbies and passions that I have wanted to pursue and improve upon: Japanese, chess, fishing, and guitar, to name a few. With my grown wisdom from running, I hope that in the coming weeks, as I decrease “miles ran,” I can redistribute my milage into other things that bring me joy – not immediate joy, however, but a disciplined form. But a joy that is so much richer once it has been achieved.
Now, as I complete this blog post, I have been able to find my footing once again. I have been able to run. It’s funny how hopeless I felt (and how slightly melodramatic I was) at the time. But it proves how things change – the only constant after all. This race, too, came right at the crossroads of my college graduation: a time of immense change, something incredibly exciting, but also scary. The experience of training for, running, and ruminating on the Canyons 100k race I think allowed me to better process the end of college. I felt accomplished and proud, but also terrified. A longing for the past, but also an excitement for the future. What I have come to find is that life can be filled with intensely big moments – whether that be running an ultra, or walking across the stage to receive your diploma. These moments are fantastic, but they dually need to be accompanied by lulls, bouts of solemn, and spaces for reflection. You can’t have the Highs without experiencing the Lows. But both of which are what create an adventure.
Next Steps
Blister care and toe recovery asap! And maybe sign up for UT Mt. Fuji soon…
Mowgli's World 
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