Many of you might not know, but I was a sea-kayaker in
2015, long before I even attempted my first ultrarace. Well, I ran a few
marathons here and there too, but running for me was something I enjoyed doing
on my own, without signing up for races, mostly to be in shape and have the
endurance to do what I enjoyed the most, sea-kayaking.
I guess at this point you’re probably asking, holy
peaches, what the heck does sea-kayaking have to do with this Wasatch100 race
report? Is Wanderley wandering again? Is he fully recovered from that weekend
or is he still hallucinating?
Well, I believe there are many principles in sea-kayaking
that can be learned while ultrarunning and I would like to raise awareness. So,
buckle up very tightly and enjoy the reading…
My years living in LA helped me connect with an
amazing community of sea-kayakers at the UCLA Marina, just as I am connected to
the trail running community in Utah. That’s a lesson I have learned when moving
around this country, “You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for
others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes,” just like in the
Winnie-the-Pooh story. Well, now you’re feeling you’re back in kindergarten all
over again… Hang in there…
I recall taking my first Intro to Sea-kayaking level 1
course from amazing mentors, individuals who helped me shape my interests in endurance
activities. I would love to name all my mentors here, but I am always afraid to
overlook a name because in actuality, all my friends taught me great lessons on
their own way throughout those years. They know exactly who I am talking about,
I love them like family members, and we still keep in touch.
Photo: April 9, 2013 - Catalina crossing from San Pedro, CA
After advancing in my sea-kayaking instruction courses
and assisting with some training at UCLA, I was able to get my certification as
an instructor by the American Canoe Association, some of the top instructors at
UCLA and in this country. That’s when life took a big turn in my education and
eventually my career, and I moved to Utah with my family.
We left amazing friends in LA, and I was able to
return a few times to catch up on kayaking, as well as to the Santa Monica
Mountains at the Malibu Creek State Park where I ran my first 50k, The Bulldog
Ultra, directed at that time by an amazing ultrarunner friend and race
director, Nancy Shura-Dervin.
July 18, 2015 - Short meeting with Nancy Shura-Dervin, Race Director of Bulldog50k
A few weeks prior to that race I was vising LA for a
few days and stopped by the Malibu Park to get acquainted with that race
course. It was a huge surprise to me, but at the parking lot I met the actual
race director Nancy. She had planned a training run that morning, and she was
wrapping up the section when we spoke. She gave me all the necessary tips in
order to accomplish my run and warned me to bring enough water with me. She
even sent me a new friend, Mitchell Jacoves, to guide me through the first
section so I wouldn’t get lost, and then I was on my own. What they forgot to
tell me was that the canyon turns into a mudfest when raining—absolutely
butter-like terrain. I was having so much fun that day, until guess what
happened next?... I will let your imagination finish this account.
My family and I moved to Utah in July, and at the end of
August I went back to LA to run that race. I drove 12 hours to the start line,
arriving at about 5:30am, then took an hour nap in my car until the race
started at 7:00am. I ran the 50k, meeting amazing friends along the way. Then I
cleaned up and drove back to Utah right after the event for another 12hrs drive.
BTW: DO NOT attempt this race travel planning, but I do highly recommend the race--one
of the best in LA.
After moving to Utah and feeling like a fish out of
the ocean, I sought through trail running an alternative to sea-kayaking. I
know you might be thinking I am crazy because they are unrelated activities,
but the principles I learned as a sea kayaker can definitely be applied to trail
running, and I was able to again find something to do that would allow me to
enjoy the outdoors and have new adventures.
July 2, 2015 One of my first runs at Mueller Park, the place I encountered peace.
I really like the quote by Jimmy Dean reminding us
that “I can’t change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always
reach my destination.” This saying has been my motto professionally, in my
personal life, and also during my ultrarunning journey.
Well, what principles in sea-kayaking we can learn at
ultrarunning that helped me at the Wastach100?
Safety First
Ultrarunning, just like kayaking, is one of the safest
sports there is. However, anytime a trail is involved, just like water is
involved for kayaking, there’s risk. The ocean is a constantly changing
environment that needs to be respected, so as the trails. The elevation and
gnarly ridges attract ultrarunners and must be respected.
After I finished the 2017 Wasatach100-miler, I
promised myself I would never run that race again, a typical attitude of an
ultrarunner after undergoing through a challenging race.
What a joke that thought was. I guess my main excuse
this year was the celebration, the 40th anniversary of the race, and the
opportunity to run with the runners who ran the race within the first 10 years
of its existence. It was a unique privilege to meet some of the legends of this
race and mingle with them either on the course or after the post-event awards.
Photo Credit to Robert Boyden. September 7, 2019 Start of the 2019 Wasatch100-miler. The 12 Pioneers at the start of the race 4 hours ahead of the 300 entered runners at 1:00AM.
So there I was at 5:00AM-ish, a few minutes late at
the start but still on time… Right after all runners left I started toeing the
conga line at the East Mountain Wilderness Park hitting the first climb at
5,257 feet, Bair Canyon.
Bair Canyon Climb, first 5,257 feet climb of the Wasatch100
As we were climbing the canyon, we were welcomed by an
early morning drizzle and rain as we approached the Francis Peak Radar Towers
Road. That came as a welcome salute to those of us who were battling the heat
and humidity of the climb. The wind started blowing hard, and I simply threw a
windbreaker over myself and allowed my head and body to get soaked. It actually
felt really good, and the descending section from the observatory towards
Bountiful B was very enjoyable.
At that point of the race, we were just becoming
acquainted with the weather, elevation and the running community on the trails,
just like when one should be doing when sea-kayaking. It’s important to point
out that when kayaking one should always remember to wear a life jacket (PFD),
stay within a swimmable distance of shore and out of high wind and waves until
I’ve mastered the skills necessary to handle rougher water, consider air and
water temperatures when heading out, and wear a wet or dry suit if hypothermia
is a risk in the event of capsizing. These three basic general rules can and
should be applied to the sport of ultrarunning when taking into account staying
within runnable distance of cliffs or gnarly trails, wearing proper clothing to
prevent hypothermia, and considering the weather temperatures when outdoors.
When I reached about mile 15 of the Wasatch100, prior
to Sessions Lift Off, the mudfest started. That was something that brought back
memories of the 2016 Bearmagedon100-miler, and I stayed within a range where I
had already mastered the skills. The 2016 race was the race weekend with 11
hrs. of rain and 10 hrs. of snow and mud up to our calves, my first 100-miler.
I noticed at this year’s Wasatch100, as I was moving along the trails,
literally trying to stand still since everything was so slippery, that some
ultrarunners were brave enough to climb down via the narrow cliff/ravine and
simply hope for the best. Others opted for the side of the trail bushwhacking
instead of backside sliding. I attempted both options, and was lucky enough to
come up with only mud on my shoes while others were not so lucky. So, my lesson
learned here was that no matter the option one takes when facing adversities,
it is important to stick within a range one had already mastered the skills of.
Mile 15th at the Wasatch100: Mudfest
Get comfortable capsizing
Every tail race comes with different challenges, and
one should strategize back up plans for her/his event just in case things do
not go as Plan A.
In sea-kayaking, newbies struggle and fear having to
capsize. The more one practices in calm water, the more one will be able to
keep her/his head in real-life situation. It is important to learn from more
experienced kayakers how to wet exit and how to re-enter the kayak in deep
water.
Even after running a few hundred-miler races, I still
feel at times that I am in the beginning stages of feeling comfortable being
under water. At times I feel breathless and want desperately to get out of the
water without going through the right techniques or steps that can help me
re-enter the course quickly.
September 2, 2013 - Adaptive Sea-Kayaking with the Arana family. Assisted rescue lesson.
When I approached Lambs Canyon Underpass Aid Station,
mile 45.71, I was already feeling a bit underwater by being exhausted, with tired
legs, and mostly feeling very uncomfortable with a blister I inherited on my
small right foot toe.
The first person to greet me at that aid station was
Matt Jensen, at least that’s what I recall since at times my mind is racing
with thoughts and concerns that I might overlook or overhear someone saying
something. Matt professionally asked me to take a photo. How can one deny
Matt’s request, even in the midst of distress? Matt has been an inspiration to
me since I moved to Utah. I have followed his talent in photography work since
I ran my first 50-miler on the Antelope Island, running a few races with his
brother Andrew Jensen, and Matt’s own attempt to complete his first 50-miler at
the Pony Express Trail Run.
Lambs Canyon Underpass Aid Station. Capture by Matt Jensen
After the photo was taken, I was finally able to take
care of my blister by simply washing the area, sterilizing with a safety pin,
making a small hole and gently squeezing out the fluid, washing it again,
smoothing down the skin flap, applying antibiotic ointment and cover it with a Band-Aid.
And blah, blah, blah… I assume you already know about this, but I had to personally
learn the hard way this skill that helps me re-enter the course quickly and on
my own.
Back in 2017, when I ran my first Wasatch100, I spent about 2 hours at
the Brighton Lodge Aid Station waiting for a professional to take care of my
blisters. After that lesson, I learned I could save time and DIY a few
emergencies at these ultra-events. The feeling of desperation at times when
under water in those races are not as intense now when compared to my first
100s after acquiring a few basic outdoors survival skills.
Know your strokes
After I left Lamb’s, on my way to Upper Big Water Aid
Station, Mile 54.18, I faced a different challenge that required me to get
comfortable moving forward, climbing, and moving forward again.
At that point of the race, I was really tired and was
falling asleep as I was moving. I encountered myself weaving along the main paved road heading towards Upper Big
Water while cars were passing by. At times I was the only runner on the road,
and all I could hear was the sound of the streams on the side of the road.
When sea-kayaking, one must learn basic kayaking
strokes in calm water first. Learn and use the power of torso rotation—using
your whole upper body and not just your arms. Get comfortable moving forward,
backward, and turning. This is a skill that took me years to learn, and is still
yet much to be perfected. When lessons are learned with much practice, one can
improve and avoid errors.
I guess there is not much that could be done in terms
of attempting to keep myself awaken, other than to sing and talk to the trees.
In my case, since I am a religious person, I normally chat with God and address
to him what I am going through, my challenges, and even ask for His help, just
like I would when speaking to my wife or my kids. So, I kept my time as busy as
I could, maintaining the right strokes moving forward and climbing in order to
get to one more aid station.
Ocean-specific tips
As I approached Upper Big Water Aid Station, I decided
to protect myself against any further danger by taking a 10 minutes nap. I
couldn’t find a place with heaters or warmers, so a volunteer recommended I
rested on the drop bags blue tarp near the light. At that point, all I cared
was to close my eyes and rest for 10 minutes.
While setting my alarm o’clock, volunteers
brought me a blanket, hot broth, and icy water. They were simply amazing helpers
and concerned about my well-being. I also always bring to these ultra events a heatsheet,
which is a product with silver lining technology, originally developed by NASA
for the U.S. space program. These heatsheets are used mostly in endurance
events like marathons as well as emergency survival gear, and they reflect up
to 90% of a person’s body heat and can be flipped (silver-side-out) to deflect
external heat sources. They are amazing and easy to carry. The only issue I had
with it was when I left the aid station and started my hiking towards the Desolation
Lake Aid Station, mile 59.7, I heard a runner screaming on the switch back
above me, very loud: “Stay away, please stay away…” The dude was screaming so
loud that I was concerned he was being murdered. I totally freaked out at that
point. I pointed my flashlight in his direction and asked what was going on. He
replied he heard this wrinkling folding sound and it sounded like wildlife was
approaching him. Haha
It was my heatsheet and he almost pooped his pants
thinking the sound was of wildlife approaching him. He apologized later and
laughed about it when he found out what really was.
Anyway, the trail is just like the ocean, in that it
isn’t an ideal beginning kayaker’s environment. Ultrarunners must be ready to
protect themselves from wind, waves, and strong currents, like kayakers in a
small bay.
April 9, 2013 - Mary and I at the Pacific Ocean - our "small bay"
In this race, I didn’t face the challenge, but I have
since read race reports and posts through social media about runners who
struggled physically and even emotionally and simply decided to take the risk
by being on their own out on the course. They decided to leave behind aid
stations and necessary help they could have benefited from. In sea-kayaking, in
case one capsizes and isn’t able to re-enter, it is recommended that one to
stay close to the safe zone of the shore. However, one must also take into
account that tides can change the shoreline, sometimes drastically. If you’re
in an unfamiliar location, talk to the locals to find out the best times of day
and launch spots to venture out from.
Ultrarunners must not only do their homework by
becoming familiar with the course they are running, but also strive to obtain
tips from locals about weather patterns, concerns and danger on the trail, and
the best times to run the sections of the trails and venture out.
Prior to
running this race, I had not only paced other runners, but I also ran 2/3 of
the course during training. I was familiar with the course and some of the
challenges and was able to prepare myself mentally. It is understandable that
not all runners have the luxury to travel and test the courses prior to an
event, but there is a plethora of information available about the trails through
social media, and plenty of friends who can assist during the trail education
phase.
In sea-kayaking we must be concerned about
rip-currents on beaches, which is when the water is pulled in by the waves,
then pulled out by gravity. They can come strong, specially where the shoreline
is steep. As ultrarunners, we simply need to be often concerned in the trails,
especially watchful in unfamiliar grounds.
Launching into the waves
The most challenging sea-kayaking instruction I
underwent had to do with beach launching and landing. The ocean is a very
dynamic world. When leaving near the coast and observing the tides and waves,
one can see it constantly changing even along the span of a shoreline. When we
were out practicing beach landing lessons, our instructors made sure we stuck
to the beach areas that have a gradual shoreline and where the waves aren’t
breaking high and hard, at least during the beginning lessons until we were
able to feel comfortable and advance to more challenging sections. The gradual
sections were also the preferred spots to launch from.
At Wasatch100 this year I made sure to stick to the
nutrition that I felt comfortable with and that would not make me sick.
Unfortunately, that’s an area I really need to improve, particularly because I
normally go 70% of my race on a liquid diet type of nutrition (coconut water,
water, chicken broth, and watermelon).
When I arrived at Brighton Lodge Aid Station, mile
67.08, at 5:38 am, I already knew I was in trouble at deep sea, running close
to the cutoffs. I was in and out of the lodge within minutes of meeting my
amazing pacer and running buddy Mike Taylor after I drank some coke and ate a
bite of sausage.
There were so many friends at the Lodge I wished I had more
time to chat, but we left the place very quickly and started our endless climb
through Catherine Pass in order to reach the Point Supreme (highest point of
the race, mile 69.9 at 10,467 feet). I recalled getting to the sign and kissing
it just in time for the sunrise back in 2017. This year we reached the sign after sunrise,
and this was not a good sign. I mean, the sign at the summit was awesome, but I
knew I was in trouble as far as meeting cutoffs. My first reaction was to tell
Mike that we had to pull the kayak into knee-deep water and get in quickly, approaching
the incoming breakers head-on with a strong forward stroke by running those
technical downhills as fast as we could so I could make up time. It was not
easy. Those trails were so gnarly and steep with loosened rocks, but once we
got to the bottom we felt we accomplished something great that helped us to
re-enter the course, at least for that time being.
2017 Wasatch100-miler at Catherine Pass, the Point Supreme (highest point of the race, mile 69.9 at 10,467 feet - Photo credit to Pacer Jade Mangus
When we approached mile 84.79, at the Pot Hollow Aid
Station, my friend Jill Bohney welcomed us and asked what we needed. She sensed
my worries and distress when I asked to sit for a couple of minutes to rest my
legs as we came down from the dusty Plunge. I asked her for some Ginger Ale and
water and questioned what I should be facing until the next aid station. She
said: You will have a very steep climb, only ½ mile but gnarly, and then some
gentle downhill until the next Hard Cutoff aid station, mile 89.52, Staton Aid
Station, at 2:30pm. You will have to work very hard.
Once I left the aid station and started the climb I was
really discouraged, and when we reached the top, I again assessed with Mike my
running pace in order to meet the cutoffs. He said that if I maintained at
least a 15-minute mile pace I would be able to make it to the 36-hour cutoff
with a few minutes to spare, but I would have to be consistent. I debated again
the thought of running on trashed legs and the mind game started.
Once at the
top of the hill there were a few Wasatch Mountain Wranglers, and my mind was so distressed that
I even do not remember their names, but they were cheering us on and insisted
we continue to the next aid station. A young man was very encouraging, and he
said he would come to my house and kick my butt if he finds out I gave up. He
said he knew my ultrarunning journey and that he knew I had pulled through
before in worse circumstances and that it was totally feasible for me to meet
the cutoffs.
At that point, I looked at Mike and I apologize for
changing my mind back and forth and that told him we should run… I simply took
off downhill and he came after me. I asked him if he was ok, and he said he was
trying to catch up. At that point we also mentioned to a few runners my
decision to drop at Staton. When those runners saw us and what we were doing,
they all started running and working very hard towards meeting the cutoff. I
really apologize to those runners who I expressed discouragement and lack of
confidence from my part in not finishing the race. I saw some of them arriving
at the finish after we did, and I was very pleased to see their hard work.
We made to the last Hard Cutoff, Staton Aid Station at
1:57 pm, with only ½ hour to spare until the cutoff. My friends Jake and Teri
Davis were volunteering at that aid station. They were also very encouraging by
helping me quickly with all I needed and insisting I continue. I checked out
from that aid station within 2 minutes of my arrival and headed to the last aid
station, Decker Canyon Aid Station, Mile 93.58, prior to the Finish line.
The
downhill heading towards that aid station was technical but I felt it easy and
more runnable. By the time we arrived at the Decker Canyon AS, it was 3:06pm,
and I knew we had gained some cushion time that made me more comfortable to
finish the race. I knew we still had about 6.42 miles to go, and that we would
encounter some rolling hills. The heat around Soldier Hollow combined with the
rocky terrain added some pressure as well. At that point, the remaining runners
on the course were working very hard to meet the cutoffs.
I ran into Karen
Bonnett Natraj and she was running strong. I got the feeling I knew who she was
and simply asked her name. Even after she introduced herself to me, I still
didn’t connect the dots since I wasn’t very coherent and only found out later
who she was through a post on social media. Mike pushed hard his pace during
those last miles and I kept pressing forward. As we approached the final section,
the road leading to the Finish, Mike mentioned we had ½ hour. I insisted we
should walk to save my legs for the finish.
Just like in sea-kayaking, in ultrarunning “the river
(or ocean) is wild. You can’t control it. Embrace the chaos.” Also “Good friends
are hard to find, harder to leave and impossible to forget.”
Wasatch100 lessons learned this year was no different
from the amazing experiences I learned while sea-kayaking in Southern
California.
For one reason or another, our ambitions to take upon
these challenges, either in ultra-running, sea-kayaking or even in life, opens
our eyes to our potential and what our bodies can handle. However, on the other
side, in the midst of the excitement, we can be blinded about risks and danger
associated with the challenges.
Run or paddle on friends! Be safe and remember that “I
can’t change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always
reach my destination”.
Thank you friends and family for all your support and
encouragement. Solid friendships in our lives help us deal with stress, make
better choices that keep us strong during these events, and even allow us to
re-enter the course quickly.
Photo on left: Trevor Fuchs. Photo above: Dee Wolf (sweeper) and Brad Sween: These are some of the faces of the amazing volunteers and good friends. I wish I had captured photos of all of them.
