Pine to Palm 100-Miler Attempt, September 9-10, 2023
The 2023 Pine to Palm 100-miler spanning Medford to Ashland in southern Oregon from September 9th to the 10th gave me my third DNF at the 66-mile mark, a place where I found myself cold and alone and more than frustrated at having missed both the 2:00 a.m. cutoff and Dutchman’s Peak, the aid station I needed, and was informed by another runner was a way’s away from the bottom of a hill where the lowest point of the adventure arrived and dug to new depths of mental abysses I’ve gone through, a canyon of angst on single track trail, a margin brimming with thorny bushes and open questions about what to do next and plenty of should-haves and, more importantly, a struggle to stay on the right side of consciousness while my body, mind, and soul had been suddenly and summarily flattened by the arrival of the energy bill for the 18 hours and 16,306 feet of vertical gain I’d put down to get to this point, and was now here, waiting for my next move, like ten boots on my one neck.
Naturally, we sign up for these possibilities in any worthy physical challenge.
This was my third attempt at the 100-mile distance, and as always I knew nothing is promised, ever, and gladly accepted that I might not finish this one either, especially with the legendary status Pine to Palm holds in the ultra community, with the over 20,000 feet of vert and five beautiful peaks the course asks of its participants.
In the moment of DNFing and accepting that I was now 3-0 for hundos, the ringing in my ears kept rising, and I laid back on the side of the trail, counting my breaths evenly, in, out, while my vision sparked at the edges.
Still, I kept my eyes open, and allowed each feeling to have its space. I rushed nothing, gave myself time to collect and sit with the reality of the situation.
And, as I aim to do in any trying time, I put attention on what worked and could still be put to good use.
I would need to go back up this hill to get to find Dutchman’s or, according to the runner I’d met a few minutes earlier, travel another 4 miles or so to the next aid station.
The shorter but hillier way back to the aid station sounded preferable over pushing more downhill mileage.
I got up, trekking poles in hand, told myself something positive, and started off, slowly.
Two of my favorite dudes ever weren’t long in finding me, all blessings to the sweepers in any race, especially those that keep spirits high in situations like this.
They trucked me back the hour it took to get to the finish line where, surprisingly and with perfect timing, I got to see Karl Meltzer himself cross the finish line, taking fourth overall, and spend some time with him and his wife Cheryl, who I’d first met at my first ultramarathon, Speedgoat 50k in 2019.
I’m in awe of what Karl turns in any day, and I’m especially proud of what my friends Bret and Aaron caught at the race with 1st and 2nd places, respectively, Bret’s win having the special qualifier of being his first 100-miler.
While I didn’t get the outcome I wanted for my own performance, my framing stays around the benefits and lessons I can draw from any experience, and I got plenty of both from Pine to Palm.
When I reached the 100k mark, I’d added over 6,000 feet of gain over what I caught at Canyons 100k in April, and done so an hour faster.
This shows that I’m growing my ultra and trail games in a great way, and bodes well for future projects I’m working on, but more on that later.
I’m also very grateful to have come away uninjured, and that an ongoing semimembranosus muscle issue did not exceed a dull and inconsistent ache during the race.
More than anything, I’m thankful to all of my friends, family, and supportive partners for the opportunity and privilege that comes with any ultramarathon, especially since this one brought a remarkable abundance of beauty, pain, learnings, and cause to celebrate the further sharpening of my fitness.
Pine to Palm in particular has been on my radar for quite a while now.
I first signed up for the race in 2021, a year that saw a spike in forest fires in the region and forced a closure and rollover of entrants to 2022.
The following summer came with some excessive knee pain for me, which would turn out to be inflammation of where my right semimembranosus muscle meets with the inside of my knee. This prompted me to reach out to the legend and all-around angel himself, Hal Koerner, who was happy to roll my entry into 2023.
With all systems go for 2023, I worked with my coach and good friend Zandy Mangold at Chaski Endurance Collective to align on a training block that carried as much vert and volume as much as possible, while still balancing over-training on a tight rope that saw my muscular issue pop up now and again, hissing at me from random moments to say, “Hey, I’m here, and you might get this hundo, you might not, see you in September.”
Clear-eyed accounting and healthy optimism beats every other look in my book. The coach-athlete relationship I have with Zandy is on the same page, and we made our goal of getting me to the start line feeling fit and prepared.
Summer ended, and the trip up to Medford in September came up quick, the journey itself inspiring a host of emotions, from strong and antsy to scared and doubtful. Per usual I embraced all of it, excited to see what I could do at an event that sets itself apart as one of the most difficult courses in the sport.
My friends Kyle, his wife Emily, their daughter Savannah, and Aaron and his wife Becca were nothing but generous and welcoming hosts to me in my short stay before and after the race, which was appreciated more than I can say, since you can’t put a price on going into races well-rested in the company of good people.
Leading up to game day on Saturday, September 9th, I tried a new strategy of cutting caffeine intake to one coffee at breakfast for three days to both maximize sleep and the stimulating effect that would come with taking in as much caffeine as I wanted on the trail.
I’m a huge fan and frequent imbiber of coffee and energy drinks, but the move was easier than I thought it would be. I slept better, for the most part, which helped alleviate the challenge of tapering down, since having lots of unused energy leftover before bed doesn’t do good things for my sleep, usually. But the plan worked, I slept great, and felt very well-rested leading into the race.
I also went in wearing my brace by Zamst and compression sleeve by OS1st like I did at Canyons, during which I didn’t feel the semimembranosus issue at all, which I hoped above all else would be the same story at Pine to Palm.
The adventure started great with all the anticipatory, let’s-go energy sharpened on oh-god-it’s-100-miles stakes and laughs and countdowns, all in prime weather, nice and cool, shared with amazing people on a dark trail with quite a day ahead of all of us.
Hal and his crew and all the volunteers were perfect hosts, and when the time came we got on the start line.
I had plenty on my mind, from excitement to dread to notes around peaks on the profile combined with what I could expect to grab from the drop bags I’d sent to each one.
But, mostly, I kept easy breathing as my top priority, rolling my shoulders back often, shaking my legs and arms to stay loose as 6:00 a.m. got closer, closer, then arrived, seeing us all off on a course that rose almost immediately, and would continue to do so for what felt like most of the next 18 hours of my life.
The trail, as expected, was stunning every which way. The mountainous regions in southern Oregon are gorgeous, and I’d highly recommend them to any trail runner or hiker looking to catch an exorbitant amount of vert and beauty at the same time.
The temperatures got warm but never to the point of true discomfort, as the sheer vertical gain, occasional technical spots, and masochistic amounts of climb heaped on more climb took care of that just fine.
Which, per any ultra I step up to, was exactly what I’d made the trip for.
Before the first aid station at over 14 miles I got stung by two hornets in quick succession, one above my right knee and followed by another in the small of my back. I’m glad it wasn’t anything that could hold me back, what is this without hardship, and I kept going, and was promptly surprised by the last person I’d expect to see coming up: Karl Meltzer.
Turns out a good portion of the lead pack missed a marker and went off course. Undaunted by the hiccup, Karl cruised by me defining focus and efficiency, pushing back to where he wanted to be, which was inspiring to see in any context, but remarkably so when I was sharing the same race he was in, which was also the hardest, by far.
The most difficult challenge of the day and what would end up defeating me were the cutoffs.
Chasing the time constraints assigned to each aid station does great for chopping down an inordinate workload into singular missions. Even so, each segment required every effort to not only scale the climbs that came with them, but also careful consideration, divvying out and holding back on energy I knew I would need for long and short-term goals.
This would be especially true in the last 20 miles of the course, where I was told scrambling down boulders was going to play an important role in getting to the finish, not to mention the cumulative pressure and pain I was taking on with each mile stacked behind me.
Maintaining a consistent pace beats gassing, in the moment or later on, and as exhilarating as the hard threat of missing my window was at each point, I had to stay reasonable, weigh stride length and engagement with discernment around the monstrous peaks ahead, which had more monsters ahead of them.
With this, I kept efficiency as my North Star, hiked often, and ran where I could until running turned into jumping up and down in place, then went back to hiking.
Optimism remained my brand, and I took cause for smiles whenever possible, and no small part of the bliss of ultramarathons comes with the people and calories at aid stations.
There’s a purity in the shared experience between runners and aid station angels: both love to see the other, and the selflessness and generosity shown to me at Pine to Palm by everyone I met at each nutritional and emotional oasis has heaps of my respect and gratitude.
One can get pretty inventive with different ingredients on hand, too.
When calories are all that matters and certain cravings like salty or cheesy climb and stay on the palate, this can be a fun space to play in: one highlight of my experience came with pulling apart a grilled cheese sandwich to get bacon, ketchup, and a pickle in there, then squishing it back together to inhale on the way to the next cutoff.
Truly delicious, but don’t take my word for it, try it!
On that note, I’m glad appetite was not a problem for me, which has been the rule for all my racing experiences and is definitely counted as a strength, since it’s an area a lot of runners wrestle with. I saw plenty of people get sick on the course, and I certainly had low moments of many kinds, but holding down food and water was a none-issue, largely because I brought more than I thought I’d need, which has never done me wrong on trail adventures.
The Squaw Lakes aid station at the 42.6 mile mark gave me a perfect sunset experience with a 2-mile lap around the lake, sans hydro pack. This turned out to be one of my favorite parts of the race, since the lack of weight was invigorating, as was the enthusiasm and support from what felt like a big party of very helpful families out for a day at the lake. The squad had my hydration ready to rock when I got back, a cheese and bean burrito for the road hit the spot, and with night coming on, my state of mind was in a very positive and ideal place.
The semimembranosus pain came on at this point with a manageable throb that never got sharp like it has at its worst. With the next goal of Hanley Gap at mile 52 at 9:30, I was looking at a time budget of three hours to travel 10 miles, which felt reachable.
My clip-on light went on (one of three I had on me for extra safety and peace of mind), and the overgrowth and technicality of the trail waxed and waned, bringing bushes and trees I had to duck through, fields of dry grass and dirt I threaded on more single track leading up, and up, and up some more.
After having serious doubts about whether or not I’d make it to Hanley, I came in at a real run and started getting my gear changed out on NASCAR-mode but then was told I had time, that I wouldn’t have to leave until 10:30 at the latest after doing the 2-mile out and back up a hill behind the aid station to get a blue flag and come back down with it.
This was a relief, and again it was nice to do a little running with less weight than I’d had for most of the day.
I put down another peanut butter and jelly and pickle sandwich, changed into warmer clothes I’d sent to the mid-way point, and heard one of the best sentences of the event from a volunteer who told me, “You’re not leaving the start anymore, you’re heading into the finish line!”
If only, but so it goes, and I kept going as long as I could.
Seemingly small touches go a long way, and having my good friend Jerry’s finish-line victory photo on my phone’s wallpaper, taken at a recent triathlon with his smile and finger pointing right at me, made turning to my device for any reason a delight every time.
This was bolstered even more by the encouraging texts I got when a signal found me from friends and family and teammates throughout the journey.
Heading into the 100k mark, I had one of the strangest moments of the experience on one of the dustier uphill climbs, a place where curtains of dirt fly with ease and can do all kinds of odd things with light and shadows.
I rounded a corner, and ahead of me a human figure dashed forward, stood, and waited.
Being where I was mentally, physically, and emotionally at this point in the race, I literally thought I was alone and seeing a ghost in the woods.
I stopped, hollering “Hello?” at whatever was in front of me, which seems like a funny first reaction to have, questioning and feeling out the reaction I’d get from a visitor from the afterlife, like a call from an unfamiliar number.
I then heard a trail buddy crunching up behind me. His headlamp caught my own shadow and was projecting it in air ahead of me.
I laughed, told him as much, and we kept going.
After this point, the literal uphill battle continued to the point this race report opens with, time in which I was counting down a dwindling buffer with a stubborn commitment to forward motion.
Still, the goal came, then went, as did my endurance.
I had to accept that today wasn’t my day like a well-adjusted adult and athlete has to if they want to be a well-adjusted adult and athlete.
I’m endlessly grateful to all of the friends, family, and teammates who made all of this possible.
Hal Koerner and his whole team were amazing in every way, and I was extra impressed by the post-race awards ceremony that offers an open and celebratory platform for finishers to share the stories that brought them to their successful finishes of this extraordinarily difficult and impressive event.
Of course, I started looking for the next 100-miler to take on the next day.
To have this particular white whale of mine continue to escape does not sit well with me, and I am still itching with a need for revenge against the distance.
However, in the interest of putting more respect on this particular challenge, and with the aim of powering up at the 100k, which I am continuing to improve at and see potential for even more of the same, I’m looking to take on two different 100ks next summer and fall at some very different elevations and locations, which I’ll be sharing about soon.
Pine to Palm saw a few significant changes in my life, especially around my health choices and professional career, the former of which is a specific shift I’ll be speaking on at some point, since I think it deserves it’s own piece.
The latter I’ve been sharing about quite a bit, and will continue to in every capacity, since after flying home I started my new job as the Adidas Brand Specialist in Running at Archrival on Tuesday September 12th.
Working for Adidas has been a dream situation with an incredible team that has and continues to support and treat me wonderfully, and the month was made even more special with my 39th birthday on the 28th, making Pine to Palm a big part of starting the last year of my 30s in a tremendously eventful, transformative, and beautiful way, which is all I can ask for.
More to come, stay tuned, sending all the appreciative and happy-trails vibes from here!
