Broken Arrow was such an incredible event and race course. I definitely recommend it! There was so much energy in the village of Palisades, and that energy stretched throughout Olympic Valley and onto the peaks around it. The spectators and volunteers were fantastic. They were up at high points and high aid stations just to cheer and help out. They handed out moral support while I was fumbling up the fabled orange Stairway to Heaven ladder at the peak. They were super inclusive, cheering everyone on. They reminded me there was one last climb and it wasn’t all downhill from the top 😅
This race was 23k (~14.2 miles) and had ~4300 ft (1310m) of elevation gain (and equivalent loss), starting around 6200 ft (1890m) and peaking at almost 8900 ft (2710m). It was difficult to train for this in Boston, Massachusetts, with it being flat and at sea level, (nevermind I also was managing some shin pain), but we did our best with a few trips north for some gnarly East Coast vert in the weeks beforehand. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure lifting is what saved (and enabled) my body on race day.
The night before the race, as the sun cleared out an unexpected mountain blizzard, I came across a line that I couldn’t relocate but I believe came from Scott Jurek: the essence was that if one goes deep enough into the pain of racing, they will find clarity.
I had toast, a muffin, and a bunch of electrolytes for breakfast. The start was late, so I had plenty of time to digest. I packed 1.2 liters in my running vest along with 2 gels to get me to the first aid station. We did a little warmup run (~10 minutes) and cheered the elite women’s start. We lined up in the usual I’m-not-sure-how-fast-these-people-are-I’ll-just-go-here manner. We did a countdown, and we were off! Turns out I lined up a little too far back considering how quickly the race funneled into single track (making it hard to pass), but maybe it was for the better to force some early pacing.
The first climb is always the worst. My calves started burning immediately. But I leaned into it… could be worse, could be the pain of injury, this is what I signed up for, go through it to the clarity… My self-talk was interrupted by someone pointing out a black bear. I think I need a new contact lens prescription because I didn’t see it. Soon after, there was a nice descent through a beautiful wooded section that helped loosen things up. Good time to take a gel. Then there were two steep, exposed climbs to the aid station. I found someone power hiking at the perfect pace, what felt just like at the edge of my ability, and hung on. My steps exactly matched where his feet had been one step prior. I briefly thought of all the other runners whose steps had been here in the past few days. We passed a lot of people together on this uphill and I felt like I was doing a really good job being in a flow, letting the hill do the work, being present.
At the top, there was an aid station. I took 3 gels and stopped for a second to have a cup of water, douse myself, and take in the view. I saw mountains for miles, some snow-capped peaks, the enormous Palisades parking lot below, and the ridge we’d soon be on. When I started running again there was a short steep downhill and my quads seized up, which is very unusual for me, but I wasn’t wholly surprised as my training was a little sub-par. Luckily I ran off the cramps and didn’t have this problem again. I wasn’t looking at my watch at all during this race, but I’m pretty sure I had 90 grams of carbs within the next hour. Ultimately, I was so happy that I didn’t have any GI issues during or after this race (that was the story of my only other altitude race at the Mammoth 50k in 2022).
Anyway, there was a bunch more climbing up sandy shale that was a bit hard not to slip back down, especially as I did get stuck behind a few people and honestly the slower the hike the slippier. There was a cool rocky ridge to run along, and I just imagined I was Kilian Jornet playing in the mountains, or Anna Gibson running along this very ridge on her way to a win two days before. The next few climbs were pretty brutal and I didn’t snap back into the rhythm I’d had before. I did a pretty good job though and only took two short breaks, which were just as well because the views had opened up spectacularly: now Lake Tahoe and a bunch of other small alpine lakes were glimmering in the midday sun. So pretty!!
Near the top there was a very short bit of scrambling and then the ladder to climb. There were some ropes to hold on to but I found them unstable so I just used my hands on the rocks and on the sides of the ladder. The ladder steps were angled a little weird so I was very much on my toes. It was a little terrifying but there was a photographer somehow perched on the rock there and I figured I was in a safer spot than she was! There was a bit of a jam waiting for the ladder so I took in more views (and fueled). I think I then contributed further to the jam though, so I can’t complain.
There was a short steep slippy descent to the aid station. I tried to stay with a woman in a green shirt who had just passed me, channeling Allie Mac descending Mount Marathon. I jogged through the next aid station, afraid the quads would seize again if I fully stopped, and enjoyed the downhill (did stop once to pee here…it’s super uncomfortable to run downhill and have to pee).
The next section was more technical singletrack trending uphill. This was the final push up, and I pushed, past the girl in green, along with two guys who were doing the Triple Crown (Ascent, 46k, 23k on consecutive days) who told me we were so close to the top! There was a little snow, but not much, and I found it was runnable. I would say I reached peak respiratory fatigue at the top of this climb, which was exactly what I wanted, and the rest of the race was basically downhill.
Downhill running is so much fun! I love both the more technical downhill where you’re praying you don’t misstep, and the smooth downhill where you just fly. I also was definitely better at this than the pack I’d been around, and I must’ve passed like 10 people on this final descent. Even though I barely practiced “speedy” descending in training, I told myself I was better than the average California runner at the technical stuff, and I rarely go fast in training so this was my chance to really go. Most runners were really considerate and let me pass them on the singletrack, but one guy, despite my saying “when you have a chance, I’ll pass on the left”, didn’t move over. I waited about 5 minutes and eventually took a leap off the trail to pass him. That really gave me the zoomies. Finally we turned onto fire road. I saw the finish line and it sunk in that I did it and it went so well, and it was such a good feeling. I channeled a stride into the finishing chute and rang that Broken Arrow bell!
One thing I’d been considering was whether or not to use poles. In the end I’m glad I decided against it (I also don’t own any poles). I didn’t have to worry about taking them out and putting them away and when it’d be worth it or not to do each of those things. Also one fewer thing to carry. Plus, I was almost spiked a few times by runners with poles.
Because I am competitive even though results don’t matter: I came in 226th overall (out of 603 finishers), 64th female (of 237), and 11th in my age group (of 27). Perhaps most importantly, we were the only runners from Massachusetts in the entire race!