Broken Arrow 52k, 2022
June 18, 2022
My last big effort was in July 2020 and by most measures it was my most significant push to date. That effort was 18 hours of trail running euphoria. I didn’t complete my goal but I did tap into the Bliss. I didn’t consider myself a blissful runner so finding this space for so long was significant for me. I left that effort challenging myself to find that love in my running practice. I didn’t find it. I lost it.
I moved across the country during the pandemic and struggled. Physically I was exhausted from the training and effort back in Maine and my body was feeling the load. Together with a particularly bad wildfire season, returning to teaching after two years away, and drifting apart from a love, it wasn’t long before regular running slipped away. I didn’t seem to miss it, didn’t even notice. I didn’t realize it then but I was slipping into a pretty serious depression. Going into the ’21 holiday season I was feeling pretty bleak. But an epic east coast Thanksgiving reminded me I’m an extrovert and even though we don’t see each other all the time- there’s a great crew full of unconditional love. I went back to California ready to give it a more honest go. For Christmas I got Covid and sometime in early December I signed up for the Broken Arrow 52k, committing to make changes in my life.
Going into the race I’ve run over 1000 miles to prepare. I’m proud of that and being proud again reminded me that somewhere I stopped being proud of myself, like at all. I started to realize how lost I was, that I needed help. For a long time I have been resistant to take ownership or pride in my genetic gifts for running. Running like this comes easy for me, pride and arrogance are only a shade apart. But I’m in a different place now and I know I need to go find the feelings I’ve been missing. I know that what I’m seeking is the kind of guidance I imagine a father giving an adult son. I need my Dad and he’s not around- I’m not mad about that anymore, but I recognize the space left behind. My Dad gave me sports- as his Dad gave to him, and his before (This is explained in more depth in my Boston 2016 report). Athletics is the Stone family legacy. In finding running again I’m finding the guidance I need. Running provides an experience, a space where I am reduced to just breath and movement, an almost infant state. When I run I feel raw, receptive, revealed, honest. I feel like I’m the most authentic version of myself, the way we can feel so safe and known by a parent. Loved. Running is like that for me. When I run I feel seen and understood. Logging miles and hours in this state nurtures me, it parents me. I feel safe and loved and free to cultivate and connect to my true self, like when we were kids and unapologetically ourselves. After the training it’s easier to be that person all the time. Now, most of the time, I feel successful, capable, unstoppable. I remember feeling like that with my Dad. I’ve spent the last 1000 miles or so in this space and I feel a major shift in my life.
Broken Arrow was a challenging race to prepare for. I’ve become a runner again, but not the runner I knew. The time away from running has given me a new perspective and I’m running differently now. Yes, I’m fascinated and thrilled by my progression and revelations in running. But it’s posing some very real logistical issues with this race. I don’t know how to plan. I don’t really recognize the runner I am today. A race like Broken Arrow has so many variables that it is very difficult to plan or predict what the day will be like. A few months ago six hours came into my mind as a possible finish time. At last year’s race six hours was good for 20th place. I don’t think of myself as being that fast and I would NEVER predict that I could go top 20 in a competitive race like this. But six hours stuck in my head as a top end goal to work towards and plan around. I was prepared for anything from 6–8 hours. The plan was to get through half way and reassess.
Going into the race my plan was to push right at the edge of sustainability while holding myself in a deliberately positive place. Years ago my coach, Jeff Knight, would say that no matter what happens during a race it’s an opportunity to be okay. The race itself is an opportunity to spend time with our rawest emotions- to connect with ourselves. I wanted to keep myself open and receptive to every little drop that could fill the love bucket. Looking for love and beauty every chance to fuel my effort. This race and all the running that led up to it is an act of self love. It’s a celebration of my journey and the person standing on the start line. Running ultra marathons isn’t everyone’s idea of how to practice self love. But love is love and its pride month, so don’t yuck my yum.
Broken Arrow: a lesson in surrender, acceptance, and integration.
Start to Juniper Mountain- 3.8 miles
This is the fastest part of the race. Conventional wisdom would tell you to start easy and progress into the day, but there was something about this race that told me to throw all convention to the wind. I would run this race differently than any before. Leading up to the race I saw pictures of people bottlenecked along the course and I knew I wanted to be ahead of any bubble like that. Aid was close enough that I started the race with empty water bottles- a liter is 2lbs after all. I kept my poles stored on my Naked belt. Keeping the poles horizontal on the small of my back was comfortable, my elbows didn’t hit them and I could run just fine. I was wearing a long sleeve wool shirt, singlet, gloves (for leki poles), a buff, cap, sun glasses, half tights, swiftwicks, and La Sportiva Boshido II. A quick pic with my fav training partner Addie, and the gun goes off. Aggressive dash through a parking lot. Surveying those around me. Studs, top women, and rambunctious bros, I found my pack. We move into the forest around the base of the mountain and pull into the flowyest of the trails. I’m moving well, syncing my arm swing and stride length with the terrain- we vibein. I took off the buff and long sleeve pretty quickly. I was feeling warm and constrained. I was getting ready to go. This race is on a ski resort, I keep thinking about this. Something about a ski resort. Like it’s a protected space, the illusion of the wilderness but also an invitation to get rowdy. I’ve spent a lot of time at ski resorts. I’m not afraid of ski resorts. I kinda want to get rowdy. Once at the aid station I drink a swig of coke, eat a ¼ of a pb&j, and take a gel to travel. Time for the race to really begin.
Juniper Mountain to Snow King- 1.15 miles
The trail kicks up from the aid station almost immediately. I get my poles ready to go but fumbled a bit with the locking mechanism. This is partially because they are new- a warranty replacement for one I broke a few weeks prior in training. After a little struggle my poles were ready to go and I started to sync my movement with the tip-tap of the carbide tips. Poles help me keep rhythm. Robot walking. The right pole strikes the ground as my left foot contacts, pushing off in sync, left pole strikes the ground as my right foot contacts, pushing off in sync. Keep going. Walking the Appalachian trail changed everything for me. You walk sunup to sundown, that’s it. Miles, pace, all the things a “runner” worries about become completely irrelevant. The answer is always keep going. I know how to settle into a climb, I never think of the summit. “This is never over” is one of my most powerful mantras. At the first major climb I just settled right in and chip away with my robot walking. The climb is steep, non- technical, up a ski slope. At the aid station I ate a ¼ of a pb&j, swig of coke, and a gel to travel. Lets gooooo.
Snow King to Siberia- 3 miles
After a somewhat technical transitional zone, the route kicks up to the 2nd and final significant climb. This is where the famous Stairway to heaven, the red ladder, is fixed. The climb was similar to the one before it. Using the rhythm of my poles, I very unglamorously eat the shit out of that hill one little stabby stab at a time. Once I gained the ridge there was a fun rocky approach to the red ladder. This section was cool but exposed and windy. The weather was shifting around. Drop from the summit, down some fun- skree like scramble, and into a 50yd snowy section. fun! I wasn’t worried, I was having fun. I had just completed the most difficult sections of the course and I felt like my effort was sustainable. To be clear, this means I was non-verbal, eyes fixed, concentrating on the trail ahead of me, and keeping my mind fully open and relaxed. But it was happening easily. I think I got this.
Siberia to Julia Millon- 2.75 miles
A punishing downhill. Steep, non-technical, ski slope (notice a theme). Here my pole skipping style really shines. When the trail is just right you can reach ahead with a double pole plant and skip ahead down the trail. Essentially, you are skipping about 1.5 steps. Using the poles like this saves your body, basically you’re banking steps for later. The course gullies out in some transitional boulder field bog. Feels like we’re deeper into the larger valley at this point. The landscape is sort of falling in on itself out here. This was my favorite part of the course. Transitional zones like this are unpredictable. Big rock, loose rock, fallen trees, puddles, it’s where everything collects, each condition requires a different running technique. This is something I love about trail running, so much more than just running. The climb out of here isn’t significant but it is honest. Slightly longer and steeper than desired. Gain to an open flat skree zone. Come into aid for my usual, coke, pb&j, and travel gel.
Juila Millon to the Village-
Drop off the edge and into some technical flowy single track. Point it down a drainage and hit a horizontal connector. I think we goin home. This section is fast, but honest. Rocky but runnable. Spit out onto a wide open ski slope, you can see the Village. Here we intersected with the 11k race. This threw me a little. I was pushing at the edge of my ability and then popped out into the back of the pack of the 11k race. This I didn’t like. I didn’t realize there was another race going on, so going into half way and I see older people ahead of me and I’m like wtf- really confused. Keep it. Keep pushing. I came into half way at 2:47 or so. My effort felt sustainable, six hours could be a go. I wanted to make some changes and jump right back in. but the drop bags were in a new location and that threw me a little more. Once at my drop i’m taken by a “fuck-it attitude”. It’s cold and there are enough aid stops, I don’t need water. I stuffed my face all week leading up to the race and there are enough aid stops, I don’t need food. It’s cold and probably a little snowy, but it’s not like I’m in danger, I don’t need a layer. There are plenty of photographers on the course, I don’t need my phone. Somewhat aggressively I drop everything I was carrying. Vest, bottles, phone, food, layers, everything. The guy working the aid station was great and super helpful, I was really confused, on the edge, and scared to drop all of my gear like this. I think I told him that this could be a terrible idea. I was ready to keep the effort and see if I could really go under six. Just me and poles, my best friends- Tip and Tap. Full send.
*A few days later it hit me that the super helpful guy at the aid station was Vivek, a new friend who I didn’t recognize. Thanks for accommodating me as I was somewhat over the edge of sanity. I feel like we shared a moment. Haha.
The second loop.
I ran the race with an even effort and the second loop was much like the first. After dropping all my baggage (literally and figuratively) it felt amazing to be so fully committed to the run. I was moving from aid stop to aid stop. Totally free and unencumbered. I hate running vests, I feel like a saddled colt. No more! Corre Libre! Moving from aid to aid felt like a nod to how our ancestors ran the sport. Something about my new approach to running feels like the new old fashioned way. pb&j, coke, candy. Full send. I love gear and lust for carbon shoes and stuff. But running is still running and far harder people have done far harder things on much, much less than any of us bring to the start of a race. I knew I could do this race without water and all that weak stuff. I probably lingered slightly longer at each aid stop as a result, making sure to take in my now ceremonial pb&j, coke, and travel gel. But I knew I was moving at an even pace. At one point my mouth was too dry for the pb&j and I dropped the balled sandwich into my cup of coke, gave it a swirl and threw it back. The lay folk of the aid station were audibly moved. Full send. I knew the race was going to be short of the advertised 52k. Half was at 14 miles. Yes, this annoys me. But during the race it empowered me to be bold and be aggressive with the course. I wasn’t afraid of the distance or the technicality (shout out to widowmaker). I kept moving fast, focused on the trail, I kept hearing Trillium tell me “you got this” and I felt like I did. When I popped onto the final service road I emptied the tank. I ran the race as hard as I could have. I was confident in that. I hadn’t looked at my watch at all, I just let it happen. When I came into sight of the finish and the clock I saw 5:57.
I think more than anything I was just surprised that I called it. Six hours seemed so arbitrary. Looking at the elevation profile of the race and scrying with the ghost of McConkey was the best I could do. Six hrs just felt right. I know myself and I know what I can do. This race helped me trust myself and trust what I can do. It gave me confidence. When I was finished I was on my own. I didn’t have anyone there for me. I sat for a bit and let the hormones and adrenaline move through my system. I was coming down. It was settling on me what I had done. I set this goal. I trained myself. I gave myself to the day and I got my goal. I felt proud and I didn’t need anyone else there to reflect those emotions for me. I felt complete.
Broken arrows are peace signs. Signs that everything is okay. That you don’t need to protect yourself anymore. The race had that feel for me. Full send!
