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Orcas 100 and the rest.


Orcas was more of a mental necessity than a race or event. My spirit was yearning for a finish line, some small moment to peek out of the liminal space I had found myself running from a less than fulfilling 2015.

The reality of crossing over into that refreshed mindset came tumbling down as 10 days prior to toeing the start line, I ravaged my right ankle. I recognized the problematic potential of attempting the stout Orcas 100 profile. Even if I could somehow manage to move on the bulb, my left ankle is still prone to giving out after HURT in 2015. Through the support of close friends and respected physiotherapists, I made the hard choice to attempt the, for me, impossible: complete a 100 miler on a freshly sprained ankle. I had told myself that if there was legitimate pain, I would stop.


Before | After

Orcas 100 came and went. Another 100 miles ticked by with the typical but awe-inspring Pacific Northwest beauty. I thoroughly enjoyed Rainshadow’s foray into the 100 mile distance. They managed a seemingly flawless first 100 with an incredible host of volunteers.

Having collected my mental fortitude and confidence again, the path ahead was my toughest challenge to date. Rest. Healing. Recovery. My body needed it. I was going full on for quite some time. I sunk myself into preparing for a mid-summer 2015 race which was cancelled, leading me to attempt Fat Dog again with a lackluster spirit. Don’t attempt something that requires all of you when you are not willing to be all in.

Work hard and the rest will sort you out. With patience and failed attempts, I have finally been able to return to my love of running.

Keep moving, except when you shouldn’t.




“We tread the icy path slowly and cautiously, for fear of tripping and falling. Then turn abruptly, slip, crash on the ground and, rising, hasten on across the ice lest it cracks up. We feel the chill north winds coarse through the home despite the locked and bolted doors. This is winter, which nonetheless brings its own delights.”Vivaldi, “The Four Seasons – Winter”

It is always easy to blame something, someone. For me, it was HURT, not because of the event itself, but the moment in my history it marked; an equinox at the shifting my of axis. To say the months since HURT were challenging would be only scratching the surface of truth. I hope to capture well what has been bubbling to the surface and let it breathe.

Everyone has a breaking point.

Either the longevity of a situation or compounding restrictions can take tolls on a person. I have been dealing with both. Running has been my respite, my meditation, my way of reminding me that nature takes its time and fruits bear. That mode of processing disappeared after HURT. I struggled with 30 minute hikes which left me aching and unable to sleep for nights later. Each attempt to grasp at maintaining a hold on the situation, on life was leaving me painfully empty handed.

I had tossed my penny in the well and waited for the splash but there was only silence.

Work was starting again. An opportunity I am beyond grateful for having landed in front me was still not what I wanted to be doing with my life. Sometimes you just have to do things, but I do not how much longer I can pursue life outside of passion. The job carried with it a certain set of challenges not dissimilar from any other new position. The finish line for time to hear on my Canadian permanent residence was coming in to view. The end of June became my focus. But even with as long as I have waited, I could not wait anymore. The frustrations were akin to having course markings constantly being changed. I resorted to putting my head down and pushing towards a PR decision. I had waited long enough and felt I owed it to myself.

From my running community here in Vancouver BC, I am known as the guy that can ralley and gut out a finish at any race if need be. It is a characteristic I am happy to possess naturally with many chances to nurture. I have been able to develop a lot of techniques that help me endure on and off the trails. But as a dear friend of mine told me, “just because you are good at struggling does not make it any less of a struggle.”

The real struggle had just begun. Training began to enter my life again. Void of any solace or joy, I found myself cutting runs short because they were mentally taxing. I only wanted to run alone because those few hours were the only time during the week I could try to forget the tangled web of life at this juncture, to no avail. And that is when the fissures began to crack.

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses respect for himself and for others. And having no respect, he ceases to love.” – Dostoevsky

Identity crisis. Who am I when running is stripped away?

Existential crisis. How do I live away from all I know: science, running, and community? What will I do with my life when I do not even know where or when I will be living in any given place? What is the point?

These were the questions I carried with me every day. Close friends saw the cracks – my smile not as wide, my laugh not as deep. The PR finish line keeps moving further away. The end is no longer in sight and my spirit is tired.

The last couple of weeks has begun to reset my axis. I am gaining hope and direction; embracing the coming changes whatever and wherever they might be. I find peace in the still again. The passion for running is burning bright within me again. Each run takes me deeper emotionally. I stripped away all of my races this year. I only have 2 events on the 2015 calendar with one holding any sort of goals.

I am beyond excited at the uncertainty ahead; it now holds promise. Professionally, I do not know where I will end up. These last few months gave rise to my desire to help people. That heart is what propelled me in the sciences and I will look at more direct impact career options in the final hours of this waiting room.

My sails are open. Let the wind blow.


HURT 100 2015.

There is a Seal song which goes, “no we’re never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy.” That is exactly how one makes it through the HURT 100.

In case you are not up on the HURT 100 course, let me break it down for you. It is 5 laps of 20 miles each. Now before you go thinking these laps are 20 mile loops, stop. The course is run WHITE — GREEN — ORANGE, repeat.  The course starts at the Nature Center, climbs up Hog’s back, and then descends a portion of trail you run 10 times, in the same direction. The white route continues to climb with a few downshill portions before it gets flat. The flat section is the popular “web of roots” photo associated with HURT. Then you descend down for what seems an eternity, past the Manoa Falls and eventually arrive at the Paradise Park AS. Turn that beat around and go right back up to the web of roots, turning right this time to run an open ridge with a touch of climbing before descending down to something reminiscent of PNW trails. Cross a river on the stones and you have made it to the second AS, Nu’uanu. Turn around and go straight back up to the ridge, the “web of roots” and climb to the first of 2 pig gates. The trail really opens up for some running after the second pig gate then you are at the “10 x section” before descending back into the Nature Center.

HURT 100 courseHURT 100 Course 2

I had been preparing for HURT with laser precision. I was one of the few non-Oahu residents with a supreme advantage — I get to train on the North Shore of Vancouver, notorious for its trails to gnarnia. I had been working on both the physical and mental attacks that makes HURT…well…hurt. I felt more confident and comfortable than I have ever been going in to a race. My goals were few: (1) Don’t quit and (2) Finish. Yes, I had some time goals where I knew my abilities should put me but I had heard and read numerous reports that many people do not finish HURT on the first go; now I know why. Thankfully I had received some of the best advice available before entering the lions den (I think it was the final thread keeping me from insanity). Run the course like the days of the week with each meal being at the aid stations. For example, Lap 1 is Monday and you would eat breakfast at Paradise Park AS. Then treat Lap 5 as a victory lap; say your last goodbyes to every tree, stone, root, and pig gate.

Lap 1 // Monday // All Systems Go // 4:40


Everyone piled on the little bridge awaiting the final countdown. I ended up about mid-way back on the bridge with Nicola and Alicia. I knew this section from my scouting a few days prior and that it is steep but short lived. I moved on and crested Hog’s back in 15 minutes. I made my way on past the cliffs and the roots to the descent. Dang. It just kept going. I mentally prepared for a long descent but I was worried how this would feel in a couple laps. When I got to Paradise Park in under 1:30 I knew I needed to slow down. I refilled some water, grabbed some hand-made granola bars and took off to go back up what I just came down…with taking it easy in the forefront of my mind. The sun was barely up and I was completely wet with sweat. The tape I had put on to help prevent some chaffing was already coming off. HURT holds a family quality in that you see people as you descend then ascend to each AS. You bond with excited high fives and eventually zombied grunts. photo 1 Lunch

I tried walking slower than I wanted to and when a less steep section appeared I would run. The ridge line was gorgeous. It looked straight down to Waikiki beach. There is a grassy knoll with a bench just before one of the more crazier descents of the course. I could see where a lot of the technicality and rocks would turn against me when they got wet. Thankfully my shoes were giving me more confidence with each footfall. Nearing the river, I thought I was back on the North Shore, surrounded by pine trees some of which were decorated for Christmas. I saw Nicola pass back by who I thought was behind me and we got super pumped. The river crossing is done over about a dozen rocks with a rope set up beside for a handrail. Just one more steep rooted ascent to pop into Nu’uanu. I grabbed some food while the volunteers refilled my water and back out I went.


The ascent out of Nu’uanu came and went really fast and before I knew it I was climbing up the crazy steep “5 minute hill” towards that bench. My clothes and entire being were just drenched. I longed for dry clothes but I knew when I got back to the Nature Centre it wouldn’t matter. In minutes I would be just as soaked again. I rolled up to the pig gate and for the first time heard “that sound” everyone talks about. Again I tried to make sure I was taking it easy but the trail opened to some fun runnable stuff. I met up with some other runners and stayed with them as we made way back to the Nature Center. I was using my watch only to monitor water and calorie intake but I started to calculate how long the lap was taking. I realized I should be done in about 5:30 hours which was about what I wanted. My new trail buddies corrected me that we would actually be around 4:30. Oh right. My watch was not only still on Vancouver time, but I didn’t “fall back” so I was 3 hours ahead, not 2. I refueled quickly and made way back out for another round. I wanted to take this one a little more chill since I now had time to spare and the heat would be cranking up.

Lap 2 // Tuesday // It’s Over // 5:41


The heat was starting to roll in and the humidity sat heavy. I ran a while with some other runners and before I knew it I was back at Paradise, not too much slower than lap 1. Matt and Alexa were there to help me get replenished. We decided to take my socks and shoes off to see how wet my feet were and I could tell by the look on Matt’s face that it was not good. He made the call that I sit for at least 20 minutes at this aid station and the next before we could fully take care of them back at the Nature Center. I did not want to waste this much time just sitting but I knew he was right. If I did not take the time now, I would not finish later.


My mind started to wear me down on the leg out to Nu’uanu. All the thoughts of having to drop were flooding my mind and I was having problems getting them out. The earbuds on my yurbuds had popped off so I also had no music to drown out my own voice in my head. I finally got to the AS and did as Matt has instructed. I sat there…waiting. I asked for a piece of cardboard or something to fan them and one of the volunteer brought me a towel. After I had dried my feet, she said “I wish there was a way to get your socks dry…oh..I know.” She rolls my socks in the towel and proceeds to wring them out with her bare hands. Oh she was gorgeous too.

photo 4


I kept trying not to think about an eventual drop out as I made my way back to the Nature Center. The leg went faster than I had remembered and before I knew it I was sitting in the chair surrounded by Matt, Alexa, Gary, Linda, and Lori. Linda had a beautiful blue parrot named Ocean perched on her shoulder eating a cracker. When Matt asked me what I felt like eating I said with wide eyes as I looked up at Ocean, “I want what the bird’s eating.”

matt ocean

With some incredible Matt ingenuity we got my feet drying out. I was torn between which shoes I wanted to switch to. One had great grip but no cushion, the other good stability and cushion but zero grip. I decided with night approaching and things getting wetter that I would go with my trailrocs. This proved to be a big mistake for this course.

Lap 3 // Wednesday // Send the Pain Below // 8:54


The HURT aid stations are dangerous. The food is so delicious and everyone is so helpful. You could stay way longer than intended or eat more than you should. As I started going up Hogsback for the 3rd time I realized I had eaten way too much right before such a big climb and I started getting nauseous. I knew this would go away as soon as the food settled so after running the next downhill section I sat for a little bit.

photo 5I was still not able to relax mentally given my feet. They were starting to hurt a little bit and all the nagging thoughts of having to drop kept flooding back. I realized that my feet were getting destroyed by this course in these next-to-no cushion shoes. I saw the girl who had wrung my socks out at Paradise. She brought me food, told me corny jokes, and offered to pace me if her runner dropped. This gave me a little more incentive to keep going.


I passed Alicia on some of the out and backs who had completely revitalized and was moving well. She gave me a big hug and told me to just keep moving. My feet just kept hurting on a deep deep level. I decided here that I would try to finish. Not for any reason other than I never wanted to run this course again. I could either tough out a couple more laps or have to come back and start all over for another 5.


The climb out of Nu’uanu was eventful. I somehow smacked my head on a hanging log, hard. Not a minute later I see Lori, who gave me encouraging words. I found out the next day that she too hit her head on the same log!

Lap 4 // Thursday // Loony Loopy Lost It // 7:37


“Your feet look incredible!” Matt said as he assessed the situation. I responded, “yeah but they are beyond trashed.” Here we go, time to put on those pearls that I cursed so much during Fat Dog for slipping all over the place. I really couldn’t imagine how bad they would be on the HURT course, nor did I want to. I wanted to quit. I was already at the start/finish. It would be so easy to just quit right here, right now. But Matt got me fed, refueled and back out. He wouldn’t let me leave until I smiled. The course starts to blur after a while. The bamboo starts talking to you. The slippery rocks taunt you.


“I bet green gets sad” I said as I climbed up towards the flats. “No, really. Green must be sad because it always has to share the course. White has its own section. Orange does too. But green is always paired off. All it wants is a little….limelight.”

At Nu’uanu, I began doing tired math. Never do tired math because it always ends in incorrect disappointments. I was positive I would not make it back to finish the final lap. Then a little old Hawaiian lady came up to me with a warm scented wet towel. She washed my face and said an endurance blessing over me as my eyes began to tear up. Then she washed my legs and told me I must go. Of course all my friends I told this story to said the same thing…”there was no old Hawaiian lady.”


“I can’t tell them I’m going to quit. But I can’t do this again. I’m going to quit.”

“We’re going to pace you!!” Linda was so excited to get out and run the first leg of my victory lap with me. Then Alexa was going to run the last 2. Great, so there goes my plan to quit.

Lap 5 // Friday // A Little Help from my Friends // 7:00


Linda kept me company, telling me stories from the day, updates on Ocean and pointing out the ginger on the trail that I swear I had smelled but given my mental state was not trusting anything. The company was much needed and unexpected. I don’t think I could have made myself go back around for another lap. Linda helped me say my final goodbyes to each tree, root, and rock we passed. We hopped down in to Paradise and I was back to feeling really good, minus the pain in my feet.


Alexa had not been on the rest of the course. I had already seen it 4 times. I would tell her what was coming up probably ad nauseam, but she played along. It was starting to get hot, really hot. I was moving well but grunting a lot. I apologized a lot to Alexa for the noises I was making. We saw Matt and Linda at Nu’uanu and that girl.


On the way out of Nu’uanu, I made sure to punch the log that both Lori and I had hit our heads on.

I knew there was only a little bit left and I was ready to hear that pig gate slam for the last time. It sounded so so good. I was picking up speed and ahead I could see that girl who had ended up picking up someone else in dire need of a pacer. I was ready to make the move to pass them but when she turned around and looked at me, I tripped and fell hard. Thankfully a big rock kept me from flying off the cliff. I picked myself up and made another, successful passing attempt. Alexa was thrilled at how well I was moving for the end of the race. I was just happy that I was within an hour of being done.

We made it to the final descent into the Nature Centre. This was it. I was actually going to finish a race that only a few hours in I thought I had no chance. I was sad that it did not go as planned but happy beyond belief that I was able to kiss that sign and never have to come run it again.

Josh finish.   photo-4

And that is just the race. Y’all. I don’t think I can put in to words just how incredible the HURT 100 experience is. The Hawaiian word for family is ohana, which is exactly how everyone is treated. While I may have vowed to never run this race again (I’m in good company on that vow, although everyone seems to recant after about 4 years) I want to continue to be a part of HURT for many years to come. This is definitely an event I will not soon forget and am so thankful to have been a part of. In fact, as I write this a week after finishing, there is still some aching going on. 🙂

Thank you to the RD’s, all the volunteers, Cindy, my amazing friend Audrey and my crew (Matt, Alexa, Linda, and Gary) — I could not have finished without y’alls support.

Take Aways:

  • Matt is the best crew person out there and I call dibs
  • I finally nailed hydration and cooling on a hot course
  • Make sure shoes drain or stop sweating so much
  • HURT has the best AS food and volunteers
  • Draining every ounce of my mental toughness is hard to recover from

Keep moving.


The Art of Loneliness and Long Distances.

“The truth is that it is natural, as well as necessary, for every man to be a vagabond occasionally.” 

Sometimes in order to be lifted up, you must first be brought down. I have now been experiencing the vagabond dirtbag runner life for two months. While it is as awesome as I had dreamt it to be, it is not without challenges or for the weak-spirited, but adventure is always worthwhile.

Two months ago, it all began with solemn excitement, hopeful anticipation, and what I thought were the necessities. After just one week I realized that my 3 carry-on sized luggages of clothes was way more than enough. They were filtered and condensed into one. Seeking minimalism is required in this lifestyle, excess will just weigh you down. Minimalist living is not for everyone and I have yet to decide if it is still even for me. I have been able to distill my belongings which are in arms reach but my storage unit tells a different story. My hope is over time I will realize how frivolous all ‘things’ are as my mind begins to forget what I have stored.


One personality trait I have been able to develop further is my self-motivation/sufficiency. I am so glad I already had this engrained in me, otherwise I think the vagabond life would eat my soul. Some days I get that longing feeling of needing something to do, anything. Remember that from your childhood? How long has it been since you’ve felt that? It had been years, maybe decades, for me.

Other days I am overwhelmed with possibilities. I recently viewed the film 180 degrees South. Jeff leaves California via boat for an incredibly long journey towards Patagonia to climb. The film documents his adventures and stoked in me the flames of long distance travel. The next day I began researching ways to become a deckhand and make way to South America. One of my best friends has connections and has offered to help me flesh out this extreme dream. While this particular scenario might not happen (for now), I feel something in the same vein is bound to soon.

I am in the midst of training for the H.U.R.T. 100 mile race which is in Hawaii in less than 2 months. Like a good crew, my friends have helped me beyond measures unthinkable or repayable. Those days filled with doubt and loneliness are matched with days of hurting cheeks from laughing too long and tired legs from the days mountainous excursion. It is reminiscent of running an ultra with long stretches of not seeing a soul or sometimes a marker to ensure you’re on the right path. Then suddenly you happen upon an aid station and the energy is palpable. At the end, I am left with gratitude and a desire to give back.

“The life you’ve led doesn’t need to be the only life you have.”

Now that job offers are all but on the table, I am restless. I do not want to slip back into the rhythm and routine which was stirring my heart to seek something more. I fear I will miss the opportunities and freedom too much, leaving me unfulfilled with no time to pursue my true desires. That said, there is something to feeling tired at the end of a day of hard work. Returning to the depths of scientific research and development does not have to be a return to the life I had. I will be able to carry with  me the vagabond spirit and find even more ways to pursue further the dream life this season awakened. I am willing to go the distance both in life and on the trails, empowered by the sense of life one gains as a vagabond and the arms of my friends around me. Thank you will never be enough.


Keep the dream alive.


The Ultramarathon of Life: A Story of Uncertainty, Adventure, and Hope

I frequently mention how training for and running ultras challenge the way I approach life and prepare my mind to tackle those unexpected lows and bumps in the road. During a 100-mile race, my mind is constantly assessing, constantly questioning and anticipating what challenge might surface next, all while attempting to soak in the present moment and enjoy it to the fullest. Geoff Roes is quoted as saying that ultras, like life, are about enjoying the highs and managing the lows.

What if that dirt starts to blister my feet? What if the next step is the one when my leg starts to cramp? What if this is the last gel my body will accept? What if my headlamp batteries are not as charged as I thought? Should I stubbornly keep moving forward or actually sit, rest, and try to let everything calm down and soak in?

What if my job suddenly comes to a screeching halt? What if I have to be exiled in Canada? What if I have to move out of my apartment and live out of storage? Should I stubbornly keep moving toward a career in the sciences or actually sit, rest, and try to let everything calm down and soak in where my passions could lead?

What if all this was true?

It is.

Adaptability. Running 100 milers has given me the opportunity to train my mind. In the heat of an unexpected situation, I have developed and nurtured an ability to breathe deeply, step back and assess what is going on and suss out my available options for remedy. Resourcefulness is the key to a successful ultra. You go in with a plan, a backup plan, and backup for your backup plan. And might as well have a backup for that. Then you realize planning does not really help all that much and you throw it out the window to be able to constantly adjust as needs arise. This isn’t to say planning is bad, but you must not hold on to it too tightly, everything will try to rip from your hands.

Toughness. Endurance creates space for opportunities unthinkable to appear. I do not know what life will look like in the coming months, but I am approaching this season with an open mind and a willing heart. To press on into the unknown and uncertainty is not a light load. These moments, these movements evoke a certain humbleness and excitement. You can drop out of an ultra. You can’t drop out of life. There is no flagged course; no set finish line.

Find your way.

Provision. I recently was able to go on two amazing adventures. Days after receiving the news that my job would be ending, I got away with some close friends to explore the Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park. I took this opportunity to let nature give solace. The scenery and mountainous terrain was a welcome surprise. I had no idea this type of terrain and views existed so close to Vancouver, BC. On the first day, we had a general idea of the peaks we wanted to summit but we were able to make our own way around once we made it to the ridge. We got to run across the remnants of a snowfield, drink the water flowing straight from it, and then eat as many blueberries as we wanted on the ascent to the next peak. The next day we went to another area of the park. The blueberries were out in full force and were bursting with flavor.

Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park.

Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park.

Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park.

Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park.

Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park.

Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park.

Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park.

Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park.

Returning from Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park, I had peace of mind in the midst of the storm. I had no idea what would come next for me but somehow I knew it would all work out. I didn’t know when or how, but I was ready to accept the next chapter in my journey. Before heading off to the second adventure, I went to run around Black Tusk just north of Vancouver.

Black Tusk.

Black Tusk.

The next adventure has been on my bucket list for years, and if it’s not on yours yet it should be. The Wonderland Trail circumnavigates Mount Rainier with 93 miles of relentless trail covering every type of terrain imaginable and 24,000 ft of ascent. I was fortunate enough to go along with a crew of now great friends. We took on the trail over 3 days which allowed us to soak in every ounce of scenery and the Wonderland Trail overloads you with scenery by the ton. The days were split to be 34 miles, 26.4 miles, and 31 miles. The first day was by far the hardest, gaining about 10,000 ft of elevation in just over 50km. I bottomed out massively towards the end of the first day but continually got stronger in the next days. I fell even more in love with the simplicity of trail running. My daily  needs were few. On the last day, as the alpine views took my breath away, the sun began to heat up. The trail crosses many flowing streams straight from glaciers and I was able to continually drink and cool down as I humbly passed through.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Wonderland Trail.

Wonderland Trail.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Wonderland Trail.

Wonderland Trail.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Mt. Rainier, Wonderland Trail.

Those people and conversations gave me hope that life is full of opportunities when I was doubting everything and fighting off depression. These adventures let me know that somehow, I would be taken care of.

Community. It started with Twitter. I posed the question of where to acquire free moving boxes. With Vancouver being one of the most expensive cities in the world to live, I recognized I could not afford to live in my apartment and needed to begin making preparations to move my belongings into storage. I had no idea that post would leave me with a multitude of house sitting options and offers to have spare rooms. My Canadian work permit extension was approved, so I get to stay in Vancouver at least for a little bit longer. Everything can eventually come around if you stay actively patient.

I still don’t know what is next for me professionally but I am beyond grateful to be given the chance to sit, rest, and soak in where my passions could lead. Life, like a 100 miler, is not a solo endeavor.

Open your eyes, your sea is changing.

Josh in Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park

 Keep searching.


Fat Dog 120 Mile 2014.

“Don’t reserve your joy for the perfect outcome. Be grateful for the journey and appreciate the scenery.”

If I could distill my Fat Dog 120 experience down to a single word, it would be laughter. I went in to Fat Dog physically prepared thanks to my coaches and mentally ready to tackle the demons these distances unearth thanks to some creative steps ensuring the ability to  maintain positivity. I am not sure I can accurately portray how amazing a time I had during this race in this blog post, but suffice it to say that this was the most fun I have ever had running. Ever.

There were of course multiple doubts before Fat Dog. Was I really prepared for conquering my longest distance yet? Was I mentally ready to truly hold on loosely to my goals and allow them to shift as the day developed? I definitely was not prepared to laugh as much as I did. Upon registering for Fat Dog back in January, my immediate thoughts for the next few weeks were “what have I gotten myself into?” “how do I even train for something as daunting as 120 miles when I don’t even feel confident in my ability to train to a 100 miler?” Thus began my long search for a coach. I knew I needed someone to not only help me develop a good training regime, but also keep me from overtraining out of fear of the distance.

I approached race day feeling confident in my training and experimentation and with not many expectations. As I previously posted, I got to have the time of my life exploring the Fat Dog course a couple weeks prior. On race day, I get to share it with the amazing ultrarunning community. The energy was different this year. I was surrounded by friends with whom I have shared many miles and stories; life. I had my family literally behind me. The specialness of having my parents and dear family friend Rosanne helping me with my biggest challenge yet was indescribable.

“Perseverance is not a long race it is many short races one after another.”


Photo credit: Mayo Jordanov

As soon as the gun (read as bear banger) went off, I found myself with my best friends Matt and Dave of Project Talaria. We quickly realized how amazing it was that we were finally running the same race together and not sitting at a computer constantly hitting refresh throughout the night. There were a lot of jokes made in those first few moments, and that set the tone for the rest of my race.

I expected to be running a major chunk of this race alone and in less than an hour I was by myself. The first climb of the race is unending, pacing through scenes from an enchanted forest working towards a dramatic summit.

Cathedral First climb summit

The descent finally started and it was a bit more technical than I had anticipated so I just tried not to slip and fall on the wet ground and cambered trail. I rolled in to the Ashnola aid station slightly ahead of schedule and was greeted by my best friends from North Van volunteering and taking photos. I knew the aid stations would be stocked with food, but I was not anticipating avocado!


Coming in to Ashnola AS

Photo credit: Mayo Jordanov

I have been training on a high fat diet for a while and avocados are one of my favorite sources of fuel but are not that great to leave in drop bags. I made my way out to my family to get my pack restocked and began the climb to Calcite. This section was stunning! The forest was burnt out so all the trees were charred black which made the lush greens and vibrant purple flowers visually overwhelm me with beauty. I knew at the end of this second mountain, a river crossing awaited and then I could see my family and Ms. Rosanne again. Crossing the river was every bit as refreshing as I dreamt it to be. It was thigh-deep in places but as soon as I made it to the other end of the rope I sat down for a while and let the cool water energize me. Then it was just a quick couple miles on the highway to get to Bonnivier, my crew, and fresh clothes and shoes. As soon as I popped out on the road, AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” came on and I began to hammer which felt great after the seemingly endless descent to get there.

photo 1

If there was a low point for me during this race, it was here. I took my time at the aid station changing clothes, refueling, and preparing for a long night alone until I got to Cascade (mile 78) where my best bud Peter would be jump in to start pacing me. I had grabbed a grilled cheese to go from the aid station but I just did not want to eat. After an hour of carrying it, I made myself sit down on a log, drink a lot of water and eat. Almost immediately I felt better, knowing I’d made the right decision to take time to get more calories in. The ascent up to Heather is full on. I got back in my groove, jamming to music and just ticked away until I could hear a dog barking in the distance. I knew I was close to the aid station and then the lights began to come in to view from the thick fog. I was munching on the amazing quesadilla and drinking some Guinness, joking with the volunteers when suddenly I hear a voice on my shoulder asking me if I wanted a pacer. It was Nicola and I gladly accepted!! I had paced Nicola on this exact section last year. We immediately got to chatting and she entertained me with numerous stories from her and her boyfriends time on the PCT this summer. The trail was muddier than I anticipated and my shoes, while great for running support and dry non-technical, the brand of my shoes became my new cuss word every time I would slide. “PEARL!!!!!”

What seemed like a short time had passed and we were at Nicomen Lake aid station which was led by one of my best friends Matt. I ate some fresh cooked bacon, refilled my pack, got a big hug and started the long descent to Cayuse. My quad was really starting to become a legitimate issue. A few years ago I injured my left ankle pretty badly and upon returning to running starting favoring my right leg on descents subconsciously to protect my left ankle. That means that after 60+ plus of my right leg taking the brute force of the downhills was taking a toll. I became fixated on “the road” which would signify about 4km until the Cayuse Flats aid station. Thankfully Nicola did not get TOO annoyed at my incessant questioning about where the dang road was. The mood was kept light with singing songs and laughing.

I managed to hold it together to get in to Cascade but was really starting to wonder if I would have to walk the rest of the entire course given the progression (or digression) of my quad. I was only a little more than 1.5 hours off my fast goal time at this point. At Cascade, Nicola graciously worked on a blister and taping my feet up. Peter had the biggest smile. I’d never seen anyone so excited and that energy was definitely making stoked. We started with jokes and laughter within steps of leaving the aid station. It was only a couple miles until the next aid station and it was all on the highway. I told Peter my concerns about my quad as we got into Sumallo Grove he got to work on loosening it up which helped for a while but along the way my quad pain came back stronger than before. This section of the course was a surprise beauty. All I had heard about it was “mosquitoes.” The trail was the softest of the day, hugging a meandering blue-green river topped with early morning fog and surrounded by towering trees. Peter, who was running his furthest distance ever and first time ever pacing, did a phenomenal job. He would get me running when I just wanted to walk and kept me smiling and laughing with story after story.

The downhills were brutalizing me. I would hobble down then start to run the flats and the uphills. Rolling in to Shawatum (mile 90) aid station was a relief. Another pacer change and ‘only’ 30 more miles to go. Just before the turnoff for the aid station, I thought we surely had missed it and I got Peter to run back to make sure we had not missed a turn somewhere. Tara was waiting for me at Shawatum, all smiles and ready to see the stellar views of the Skyline ridge. The next 9 miles were a jungle adventure — swarms of mosquitoes and lots of prickly overbrush. Tara was incredible at motivating me to get to the next aid station. Once there she quickly got me a beer and bacon. I took some pain meds for my quad and off we went. I normally never take anything during a run but my quad hurt so badly.

I was now entering into the unknown with regards to distance. I had that feeling Samwise does in Lord of the Rings “If I take one more step, it will be the furthest I’ve ever gone.” The climb to Sklyine ridge is a beast. I began laughing at just how ridiculous it was but I knew what was coming so I just put my hands on my quads and powered up. Eventually, we reached familiar territory and my quad pain was gone. GONE! I turned back to Tara, smiled, and said “let’s run.” I guess from the miles and hours I’d spent having to walk my energy levels just increased because I felt unstoppable. Tara kept commenting on how good my gate looked and how fast we were motoring. These last 20 miles of the course are the hardest (and not just because it starts at mile 100), but also have rewarding views.

I got to the Skyline Junction aid station and was informed that I was in 10th place. I had not entered Fat Dog with any placement in mind but I decided right then that I would try to see if I could catch 9th and most definitely not get passed again. I could not believe how good I felt on the ‘pumps.’ These climbs are ridiculous and you can see then next one from the one you’re on. I could see people on the next summit and worked hard to pass them before they had descended. Sadly no one I passed was in the 120 mile version of Fat Dog. I knew what to expect and chugged along until we reached the burnt out forest which is the moment you know it’s 5.5 miles of nothing but downhill to the finish. I do not know what pace I was running towards the finish, all I know is Tara kept throwing down the compliments and telling me I was running a 50km race pace, not a 120 mile.

As you reach Lightning Lake you can see the finish line across the lake, and those at the finish line can see you. I could hear the cheering and dug deeper. My dad told me they had been informed from Skyline (99 mile) aid station to expect me to come in hobbling but he recognized Tara’s cape and it was sticking straight out behind her. I was in disbelief that I felt this good, was running this fast, and that my Fat Dog 120 experience was almost over. I did not want it to end. I came around the end of the lake and saw someone had made a wrong turn so I sprinted to pass them (another 30 mile runner). I had such a blast on the course that it only seemed fitting to come rolling across the finish line doing the Gangnam style dance. I wanted everyone to be laughing as much as I had. I ended up crossing in 32:03:09 which was good enough for 10th overall.

Crossing the finish

Photo credit: Mayo Jordanov

Photo credit: Mayo Jordanov

Photo credit: Mayo Jordanov

I am beyond grateful to have my parents supporting me all along the way. They had a great time, fell in love with the ultrarunning community, and kept me focused. I could not have done this without them. I have some amazing friends who will come out to the middle of nowhere and run in the mountains just to keep me moving and laughing. Nicola, Peter, and Tara, I am so happy to have y’all alongside and will cherish the memories and stories for years to come. Heather Macdonald, Peter Watson, and the multitude of volunteers put on a world class event; congrats and thank you. Thanks to Distance Runwear for all the support and Nuun for keeping me hydrated.

Photo credit: Mayo Jordanov

Photo credit: Mayo Jordanov

After receiving my colorful belt buckle and eating some food we made our way to a hotel where I passed out and woke up in the middle of the night not too dissimilar from this:


Watch the full video of this gif here: This pig is my post-100 (or 120) mile spirit animal.

Congrats to all my amazing friends and everyone else who took on and did great in one of the 9 toughest ultras in the world.


  • Have a nutrition plan and stick to it, I finally never bottomed out
  • Laugh well and often
  • I love my family and glad they got to see me doing what I love
  • I have amazing friends and hope to one day give back to them the way they did for me
  • The ultrarunning community is by far the best ever

Keep laughing.



Resurfacing. Alive. Dancing.

“All the faces and lives now lost to time but remaining as a reminder, not just that we may one day die, but that we may live now, live fully, and love freely.”

I realize it has been quite some time since I have updated on here. I was laser-focused on my goal race for the year, which just took place this past weekend and will now try to catch up on the events that led into Fat Dog.

Trailstoke 60k

 This was my first Sky Running event and I must say, I quite enjoyed it. Maybe it was finally being surrounded by clouds and rain. Or the Wasatch-esque climbs and descents. Or that I had next to no goals for the day outside of really taking my time and last nutrition experiments before Fat Dog.

Even though I was not particularly satisfied with having to slow down every time I felt like letting loose, finishing with very little fatigue in my legs and energy to spare was worth it all. It was a great weekend with friends old and new, in an area completely new to me. I’m glad my 2014 plan to explore more of the area where I live is panning out nicely.

The race itself was quite well organized being in its first year. After a few items get ironed out, Trailstoke will be a new classic.

 Wild but not Free

“It is only in adventure that some people succeed in knowing themselves.”

I finally got to live my dream. I set up my mini-SUV as an ultrarunning mobile home and made my way off to the mountains. Back in January when I registered for the Fat Dog 120 mile race, I knew that anything could happen on race day but these moments, these days of living wildly would mean more to me than race day itself. As much as I have come to love my community in Vancouver, my heart dances when thoughts of spending time alone running in the mountains for days on end begin to play.

Passion. It is a song heard by few and different for every person. But when you hear this song, you have no choice but to move and be moved. I am blessed and cursed to hear this piece constantly.

I set out, plans in place of which parts of the Fat Dog course held highest preview priority. Equipped with all my gear and the dearest of friends planning on joining me for a couple days, I was excited beyond what I dreamt this moment to be.

Each day held that joy and anticipation you felt as a kid finally released from school or chores and told to go play outside. The deep simplicity was fully satisfying to my soul. The adventure stoked the fire to explore more of the natural beauty in this world. Even getting tracked by a cougar could not dampen my spirits, although exhilarating and scary as hell.

So how does one return to the so-called normal life after finally dancing to the song that has been playing for years? I cannot be the only one left trapped by a desire for wildness. Thoreau has a famous quote “all good things are wild and free.” I do not see how ‘wild and free’ can coexist. To be wild leaves me with no freedom in my ‘other’ life. The mountains are always trying to acquire my attention, gnawing at my thoughts, making the ‘career’ seem as small as a darting sparrow through the trees of the forrest.

I will continue to hold these moments close to my heart in hopes to spread the joy and happiness it gave me to those around me. Or as Howard Thurman put it:

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Keep dancing to your song.