Ultrannuning can sometimes be fun and other times disastrous. The experience at Kodiak was a lot of both. Similar to how the sun rises and falls, ocean currents wade up and down the sandy beach, and pulling the switch turns the light on and off - the highs and lows at Kodiak were as consistent as a clock.
Mediocre spaghetti was the meal of choice before the big run. Though lacking in flavor, it got the job done and I was relieved to have escaped the hordes of people at race check-in (I was like the 10th person in line). The most taxing part about ultrarunning is the wait. Not sure if I'm one of the few that gets anxious days leading up to it - the night before especially - but it is by far my least favorite part. After settling in my hotel the night before, I think I heard and saw every hour of the night. I didn't sleep well and was dreading the 4:07 AM alarm that I had set (for some irrational reason, I think picking a random alarm time when it's set to be super early tricks the brain into thinking it will sleep in). Unfortunately, my theory was wrong, and my anxiety got the better of me. Not sleeping the night before a 100 mile run isn't unusual for me, so I was least grateful the wait was over.
With the race starting promptly at 6, I put on all my gear, ate my normal breakfast (3 eggs with a bagel and lots of butter), and then drove the half mile to the start of the race. I received my GPS tracker at check-in, made sure all my food was ready, and then put my three drop bags at their respective locations: Nordic Rim (mile 25), Cushenbury (mile 55), and Sugarloaf (mile 67 and 81). Kodiak has 17,000 feet of climbing, so I wanted trekking poles but didn't want to carry them until I got to the 3,000-foot climb up to Sugarloaf (mile 67), and also the highest point of the race (just under 10,000 feet). Sidenote: Those who know me know that I'm a TERRIBLE planner - I'm spontaneous in a lot of ways (which probably explains why I finish races in trashbags sometimes) Needless to say, I was proud of my organization.
The clock hit 6:00, and it was time to run. My primary goal this race was to finish under 24 hours. In 2021 only 6 people were under a day, so I knew it was going to be brutal and a respectable goal. Though there is a decent amount of climbing, I assumed (and can now confirm), that the long, exposed sections of the race at elevations between 7,000-10,000 is what destroys most people. Sunscreen and water quickly become your best friends.
The first aid station was 6.5 miles out. Nothing really stuck out from this section aside from there being lots of runners in groups and many rolling hills. The real fun started at Champion (mile 14). This is the section you go down Siberia Canyon and then up the other side. First off, the name is epic. Being the middle of August, I knew this wasn't going to be a nice North Pole tour with elves and talking bears, but more like an unwanted Saharan expedition down abandoned trails.
The downhill was a lot of fun. I remember moving very nicely through this section, following a runner up ahead. What struck me was the dramatic landscape all around me. It was a sharp green mountain that jets in the sky across from me. I also was taking in all of the manzanitas on this section. This trail could also be called "Eye Poker Trail." It seemed I was tunneling through and contorting my body through narrow trails and had to dodge scraggly eye-poking shrubs. Every plant on this section was sharp. They were playing a game of who can get the most pokes on the incoming runners. My last observation was that we were descending - and a lot.
This eventually flattened out and we were boulder hopping in the canyon. The bugs were atrocious. They were extra motivation to keep moving as they were swarming everywhere. There was a stream we crossed and an "aid station" at the bottom of Siberia Canyon. They intelligently were wearing nets around their faces and very graciously donating water before the steep climb. I filled the pack up and headed out.
Siberia Canyon is one of the lows of Kodiak. Despite living an hour away and training on parts of the course, I was not prepared for Siberia Canyon. It is a 3,000 foot climb up to Nordic with 0 shade. By the time I got here it was late morning - perfect for the midday sun to cook. Though 81 may not sound too hot, it is awful at elevations of 7,000+ when there is no shade - it's like being put in an environmental microwave. It was this section that a handful of people passed me. Though I was mostly acclimitized to running at this elevation, something about the sun just destroyed me. It felt like the whole world passed me here.
However, I kept climbing. I could hear voices not far away and I was sweating profusely. Thankfully I made the summit shortly therafter as my water supply was empty. I crossed the road and was flabbergasted to see my friends - Brian and Matt. It was definitely a pick me up, and it did give me some life back. At Nordic I had my first drop bag. I restocked on the only foods I planned to eat that day: Oreos, apple sauce, and Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. I drank a whole soup and took the other one with me.
The next stop was Green Valley Lake. I've run here before and knew the area. I had a high from seeing Brian and Matt. I also think the calories from the soup kicked in as well. It was nice to run some trails I've been on before. However, despite knowing Green Valley, I also knew that it was a long, exposed section of the race. Once at the aid station, they made sure we had two liters of water as the next one was 10 miles out. Though I've done races with them longer, this was totally exposed. It was also the middle of the day so the best to get fried as well.
I restocked and went out with a handful of guys. I think I've confirmed there are two types of runners: those who do it for social reasons and others who do it for the nature reasons. I'm in the latter. It's not that I am not a social person, but there is something about the total disconnect that I treasure in these events. When the groups started mingling, I was cloistering on different parts of the road.
Eventually, the groups got broken up (namely, they kept driving forward). This was another low of the race. I was about 1/3 of the way and I had to get Oreos out of my bag. I went to get it and everything fell out of the pack. When I say "everything", I mean everything but my two water packs in the front: GPS, Oreos, apple sauces, Skullcandy headset, and Campbell's Chicken Soup. I played cleanup and pressed on. As I kept going, I heard someone say "are you number 60!?" from afar. I turned around, and lo and behold, there was my GPS tracker! It was the one thing I left behind as the other runner picked it up.
After realizing I was shunning people, it was people, aka another person, who saved my race. Oh, the irony of that. Tim was his name and I greatly appreciate him catching up and giving it to me. We then ran for a little bit on that section, but he was definitely feeling more chatty than me. He said if he gets to mile 87 and has to crawl to the finish, he would go all 36 hours if he had to. Admittedly, I admired his mindset, as I was being a little whiny baby in my brain at that point. If I'm also being honest, I was also a little annoyed he was feeling way better than me. "Misery loves company" and this company was being a lot more optimistic than me and just didn't understand me (boo-hoo). But, I was healthily motivated from him. Later I learned he did finish in 31 hours, so congrats Tim!
I was getting that feeling of not really wanting food. I think the heat of the day was getting to me. Therefore, I wasn't eating, and I could feel myself slowing. This was the early signs of what has historically bankrupted a few of my races. Though mechanically things were ticking perfectly, the stomach is the dictator of the body, and the stomach and the rest of my body have had some sharp disagreements.
I did get a few Oreos down and got a second wind. I passed Tim for good and pressed on to Hana Flats. I remember this section being mostly flat and I did more walking than I should have. I'd give myself a C- on nutrition on this leg. I didn't eat a lot and I was getting early signs of bonking (totally having no energy due to no calories) and knew I had to eat a few more Oreos.
I got to this aid station and immediately put in my ear buds. Next stop was the Van Halen Aid Station (that's what I called it). That was at mile 47. This section was going through a campground and up a long, gravel road. The next thing I knew, I was on the PCT and had sensational views of Big Bear Lake and the high desert to the east - it was sensational. Running along the PCT was again planting the seed of doing the entire PCT from Mexico to Canada. Maybe someday. It then turned into a downhill and this was when I excelled. Downhill running is something I'm quite decent at. I caught up to a number of runners and got a second wind. These were all of the runners who got ahead of me at Green Valley Lake.
Next thing I knew I was at Van Halen. What impressed me most here were the aid station volunteers. They were some of my favorites. There was a lady who would respond on command and her two kids were mini drill sergeants. Whatever I asked was done with two adult and 4 kids hands coming at me with aid. Their efficiency was impressive, and I very much appreciated all of their help!
From here I started to head to Cushenbury. This was when things went downhill, and not literally, unfortunately. Shortly after leaving, I had a banana and left the other runners I came in with. That was when the stomach revolted the first time. I'll spare the details, but the score is Stomach:1 Body:0. I kept hiking but knew the stomach was something I was now going to have to deal with. I was hoping my diet of Oreos and apple sauce for most of the day would keep it happy. That wasn't the case. I walked a bit as it was uphill and then got motivated to run the second half as it was all down hill. The views of the desert was amazing, but I wasn't fully enjoying it as I was running out of energy.
In most races I'm not happy when the sun goes down. In this one I couldn't wait. The sun sucked the life out of me, similar to how my Shark vacuum sucks up the Skittles that I drop on the floor. I also knew that the soups would be coming out which really seem to work for me.
When I got to Cushenbury (55) I grabbed some food and took off as soon as I could. The unfortunate part is I had no energy. I don't usually like hanging out at aid stations so I chose a boulder off the trail this time. I sat and ate some food with the hopes that my stomach would settle. After seeing a handful of runners go by, they graciously asked if I needed anything. I am always impressed with the hospitality at these events. We do generally try to take care of each other and there are many small acts of kindnesses that demonstrate that. After eating a banana, soup, and apple sauce, I took off. It probably wasn't 10 steps more that the stomach settled the score again. Now I was in real trouble.
The next few miles were a slog to Burns. This was most frustrating as it was still daylight and you could see, temps went down, and it was runnable. Though mechanically I could, the calories weren't there to support it so it was a lot of walking. A lot of the people I passed earlier passed me again. This was the lowest point of the course. Eventually I got into Burns and took a seat at their aid station. I was extra delighted because Cushenbury said there were no volunteers at Burns (the Burns people were offended when I broke the news).
Here I recuperated and got my bearings. I also turned my headlamp on and headed to Sugarloaf. This section I'll call the "The Stupid Hill and Mental Destruction." Halfway in this 9 mile section, I got to a national forest road and a sign that said "closed." Well, we go under that sign and up this steep hill. What I didn't expect was the steep hill to last for a really long time. I don't remember seeing this on the map and the aid station workers didn't really warn me about anything up ahead. I think when it comes to doing these events, having false realities can be really destructive mentally. I kept going up this hill which had tons of jagged rocks, you slip backwards a little with each step, and it just kept going forever. I also thought how nice it would be to have my trekking poles, which, thankfully were awaiting me at Sugarloaf at the next aid station. The one positive of this section is when I had the headlamp on, I noticed bats swooping right in front of me to get easy bug prey that was attracted to the light. I felt like Batman, but cooler.
The Stupid Hill continued. And continued. And continued. Until it didn't! It flattened out and I was gaining momentum as we started to go downhill. I knew that at the bottom of the hill would be Sugarloaf which had my aid - and trekking poles. I eventually got to Sugarloaf and looked for my bag with the trekking poles. Tony, the eventual winner, had already completed Sugarloaf and come back from Balky Horse. I was impressed.
After finding my bag I noticed my poles weren't there...I kept looking, thinking it was a mistake but no, they were not there! Now, the mental state I was in was full saltiness mixed with a lot of feelings of self-entitlement that I had to have those trekking poles. It felt like someone who just keeps throwing water in your face. Pure annoyance. What I did notice was that another bag had trekking poles which resembled mine a lot. They were REI, slightly warn, and red. I commented to the aid station volunteers and they thought the same - that I shouldn't take them. They said they would look into it.
Now Ann was trying to settle me down as I knew Sugarloaf was the hardest part of the course. At mile 67 you climb to 10,000 feet and up about 2,900 on loose rock. I wanted my trekking poles. I even planned to have my trekking poles here. It felt like I disobeyed the disorganizational gods and they were punishing me for being so prepared. Ann eventually let me borrow hers. What I'll say about Ann is she is about 5'2 and her trekking poles were up to my quad. But, it was better than nothing. The other high is I saw my neighbors, Savannah and Gabe. I was not expecting them and it was a very pleasant surprise, though they definitely saw me in a less than enthusiastic state.
Even though I was hunchbacked going up Sugarloaf, the trekking poles were extremely efficient. I had also trained on this mountain so I knew what to expect on the worse of the trail. My stomach was also tolerating the soup and I was getting energy back. All I remember about Sugarloaf is I made a lot of progress. I saw headlamps up ahead and pressed on. Someone who made the summit said "this is soulcrushing" as he was going back down and I was going up. I felt much stronger than he looked and knew others were suffering as I was gaining up to many of them.
Maybe it was Ann's magic trekking poles, the fact I could hold food down, or a combination of things, all I know is things were really coming along. There were groups of people I passed and I got to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain at about midnight. Two women were at the top and they punched a hole in my bib. I turned around and knew I wanted to put the foot to the floor. I made excellent headway on this section and passed more groups of people. I was basically sprinting past them. This was exactly how I wanted to feel. The moon was a bloody crest in the sky, protected by the diamond-like stars surrounding it.
It was all downhill and I made great progress. I put my music back in and was jamming to tunes at midnight on a mountain. I got to Balky Horse, grabbed some soup, and headed back out. It was all downhill. When I got back to Sugarloaf for mile 81, Ann said that the other bag that had my trekking poles hadn't come in yet, so she let me continue with hers (I later learned those trekking poles were mine and they were accidentally put into the other bag when they were being transported).
I took a caffeine pill to help me stay awake, and kept pressing on. I could feel my body getting stronger. It astounds me what my body is capable of when it gets the energy that it needs. The next section was relatively flat. It did include some pavement which hurt a little but eventually saw some other runners and decided to put the pedal to the metal again. Next thing I knew I was at Skyfall (or so I called it).
Here I grabbed my provisions, noticed another runner and kept going. It was a slight uphill and then down, down, down. If the former hill was "The Stupid Hill", then this one was "The Stupid Downhill." It never ended. I do love downhill running, but when it just goes on and on and on, it gets annoying. Eventually it did flatten out and there was an aid station at the bottom. It was a guy who just gave water out before the big climb.
Since I was warned on this one, I found this to be signficantly easier than Siberia Canyon. Sugarloaf is on a whole different playing field as well. However, I do think when you're mentally prepared that a section will be hard and it is, it feels less punishing when you get to the hard part. Having false expectations and false realities is what's hurt the most. I think the same could be said of life. Here the sun was coming up as well, or at least partial light.
I pressed up the hill and eventually got to the final aid station. I was so relieved to make it to mile 96. The race was over at this point. I learned all of the volunteers stayed up all night. We all seemed a little loopy and laughed at pretty much everything. After grabbing a ginger ale, I headed out. Thankfully this was mostly all downhill. I was so happy to know the finish was in sight. I knew I was going to miss my 24 hour goal, but I was happy with how I readjusted that goal and overcame circumstances that just got thrown at me. I'm also happy with the final push at the end and feeling better at the end of a 100 than I think I've ever felt.
Once I hit the pavement, deep relief overwhelmed me. It was an amazing feeling to know that I just ran around all of Big Bear Valley. It was a beautiful experience and I'm so grateful that I got to experience it. I could see the sign ahead with the time of 24:33. The race directors congratulated me and I got the Kodiak 100 belt buckle - and 7th overall. There were about 105 that started and 69 finished, so congrats to all of those who did. The drop rate was certainly higher than most I've run, and I can see why.
Given that I was at 15th at one point, I couldn't be more pleased with passing 8-9 people on the last 20 miles. I felt strong and I think there are some takeways from this race. The last couple haven't been the most smooth, but they certainly continue to test me mentally and physically, and there is just something primal about them that has me going back for more.
Thanks to the race directors, volunteers, friends family, and others who supported me, both in-person and in spirit. It's much appreciated!
