The Other Things

Fitness alone doesn't win ultras

1 mile - 4:39 (time trial on a track in high school)

5k - 15:56 (time trial on a track last year)

Marathon - 2:34 (net downhill course in 2019)

My point here is that I’m not that fast, even in the world of trail ultras. Fast is always relative, but take a look at most of the pro/top contenders in any given competitive ultra these days and my sub-ultra PRs are relatively laughable. To my own credit, I’m not training for a track or road race, and I don’t give myself many chances to make those PRs more impressive, but even if I wanted to I just don’t think my legs were made to really turn over that quickly. Lucky for me, they don’t need to.

Success in longer trail races can’t be predicted on fitness alone. A low heart rate on a decent 25 mile training run is an indicator that someone could have a great day, for sure, but there are so many variables that come into play over the course of an ultra. That’s where I’m able to make up some ground. Let’s use last year’s Western States as an example and take a look at non-fitness factors that played into a 5th place finish.

Conditions: Sunny, with a high of 94F, a low of 63F. Not a scorcher, but definitely at least averagely warm. Mitigated via prior heat adaptation, hydration, conservative pacing, and topical cooling.

Terrain: Somewhat rocky in the high country, smoother in later stages. Lots of downhill, some runnable climbs. I am comfortable on just about any terrain you’d find in most ultras and my quads were prepared for the pounding.

Fueling: Enough to sustain a decent level of effort, not so much that it causes problems. I could comfortably handle about 105 grams of carbs per hour and nearly a liter of fluids per hour.

Logistics: Minimizing stopped time is key, while still taking care of yourself enough to prevent or address issues. I had two crews, one for each set of early aid stations that are grouped together. Crews gave me bottles, gels, ice, and words of encouragement. They soaked my clothes and had changes of shoes for when my feet started aching. According to Strava, I had about 21 minutes of stopped time, presumably in aid stations. I’ll bet the largest chunks of that time were spent doing my two shoe changes and getting ice for my bandana at non-crewed aid stations.

Strategy: No matter how fit you are, if you go out too hard you blow up. I took a conservative approach as this was my first 100 miler, wanting to ensure a finish. By about Michigan Bluff (mile 56) I had worked my way up to the top 10, trying to stay consistent and picking off people gradually in the second half.

Gear: I had practiced with what I’d be using for race day and felt comfortable with it, with the exception of a vest I was testing that I had just gotten recently. I had a minor malfunction with the vest, but it was only an issue for a few miles before I switched into my belt. My shoes were an early prototype that was decent and I really liked them for about 40-50 miles, but then my feet started hurting. That pain was quickly relieved by changing into a fresh pair. I loved my topical cooling setup, which involved a bandana, ice vest, and handheld bottle.

Mentality: Expectations were low, excitement was high. I treated Western States like it was the only race that mattered to me last year. I was ready to finish or die trying, and figured I’d rather not die and just get it done as quickly as possible. I stayed positive and mentally in the fight all day.

Luck: No matter how careful you are, there are factors mostly outside of your control. You can quarantine and only eat plain rice the days before the race but you could still get sick. You can watch every footstep but you could still trip or roll an ankle. Your crew could get a flat tire and miss giving you fuel at an aid station. It’s possible to recover from many of these situations, but it puts you at a significant disadvantage. I had a pacer drop after a few miles during an 18 mile section, but other than that I’d say everything went just about perfectly according to plan. Luck was on my side.

A shoe change + crew pit stop at Michigan Bluff last year.

Ideally you’d be a 10/10 in all of these areas, including fitness. That’s not easy to do. Chances are pretty good that everyone else out there on the start line will be deficient in one or more of these categories, and the winner will just be the runner with the highest cumulative score. Each category has diminishing returns, meaning that while more time spent improving it will result in some progress, that time may be better spent on a different category where there’s more low-hanging fruit. I know where I’m lacking, and I know where I’m strong. I also know that I’m not a 10/10 in any of these areas. I see ways to improve in all of them and have taken steps to do that.

I write this to give myself confidence as I see some of the insane training blocks other athletes are throwing down in preparation for the most competitive Western States of all time. There’s a lot that goes into this. What you see on Strava, Instagram, or YouTube doesn’t tell the full story. If there’s something you don’t feel as naturally gifted at, work to make it as good as you reasonably can, and focus on nailing the other non-genetic variables that within your control.