States DNF and the Aftermath

I think I’m finally at the point where I’ve dwelled on Western States enough (I wrote this part like 4 days ago, so I’m definitely over it now).

It’s funny how much weight a race result can carry. For months, sometimes years, you build towards a single day. You put everything into the preparation, make sacrifices, and convince yourself that when the opportunity comes, you’ll be ready. Then the day arrives, and sometimes it just doesn’t unfold the way you imagined. Writing about it helps. Not because it changes anything, but because it allows you to get the weight off your chest, reflect on what happened, and accept that you can’t go back and change things now.

That’s where I’m at. I genuinely felt like I was in the best shape of my life heading into Western States. Usually, I’m pretty quiet in my confidence. I don’t like making big statements or putting expectations out there. But this time was different. I felt good. I felt ready. I was open about believing I was in a great place to race. Maybe that was my downfall.

But, the thing is, I still felt that way standing on the start line. There weren’t any obvious signs that things were going to go wrong. My chest had felt a little tight in the days leading in, but I put that down to altitude and the usual feeling of trying to absorb more carbohydrates before a big race. Nothing felt alarming, so I remained calm and just went about my normal routine in the approach to race day and race morning.

The start of the race reinforced my feeling that I had it together. I was controlled going up the Escarpment, my heart rate felt lower than previous years, and I settled just behind the front group. I was exactly where I wanted to be. Running with Hayden Hawks and Jeshurun Small gave me confidence too. These are guys I’ve trained with, and being around them confirmed that I wasn’t doing anything stupid. I wasn’t overreaching. I was happy with my positioning and felt smooth heading over the saddle and into the High Country, flowing through the descents and feeling like I had plenty left.

Then, around 15–20 kilometres in, I noticed something wasn’t quite right. My stomach was moving around, and I wasn’t able to take on nutrition straight away. That isn’t necessarily unusual in these races. Sometimes it takes time for the gut to settle, especially when you’re racing at high intensity. To be fair, that’s what Western States is now. Yes, it’s 100 miles, but the front of the race is fast. It’s not about sitting back and waiting for things to come to you anymore. You have to be willing to make your mark and take some risks.

I didn’t want the gap to grow too much. By Lyon Ridge, the front had started to move away, but I still felt like I was in control. I knew I hadn’t been able to fuel as well as I wanted early on, and I knew at some point I would probably need a bathroom stop. That came just after Red Star Ridge, before Duncan Canyon. It didn’t cost me much time. Some people moved ahead, others came back, but the front of the race was pushing hard. My focus was still on getting to Robinson Flat, seeing my parents, Michelle, and the crew, and settling into the race.

But from there, things gradually started slipping. I thought maybe I could find my rhythm on the long downhill sections. I got a boost seeing Killian Jornet (the GOAT), although unfortunately he was dealing with his own issues after his knee blew out. I was still moving okay and managed to catch Jesh, which made me feel like maybe the race was starting to come back to me.

Then I hit the canyons. The problem wasn’t the heat. It wasn’t some dramatic collapse. I just didn’t have the energy I needed. The climbs that normally feel manageable became a battle. My legs felt flat, and I had nothing to give. Looking back, it was probably the slowest I’ve ever moved through that section (not what was expected on a cold year for Western States, although still hot). Getting up to Michigan Bluff was a challenge, but I still believed I could turn it around on the way to Foresthill.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be. I moved through Volcano Canyon and caught Anthony Costales on the downhill. I thought maybe things were improving. But climbing out, I was in trouble. My legs were shaky, and Anthony passed me straight back.

He asked me to come with him, which was nice, but I had absolutely nothing. Coming up Bath Road, he slowly pulled away. Jeff Mogavero came past during that time too. I was a pretty sad sight coming into Foresthill. This was where I saw my crew and Beth, who was ready to pace me. But instead of arriving ready to fight, I felt completely broken. Looking back, I still have moments where I think, surely I could have given more. How could that have been my best? But the reality is, on that day, it was.

I still thought I might be able to jog my way through to the finish. Maybe I could find something. Maybe the body would come back. It didn’t. Beth did an amazing job pushing me to jog whenever I could. I stopped at almost every aid station and tried to eat as much as possible. The Nerd Clusters were a highlight, and I think it was the first time I’ve ever actually relied on aid station food in a race.

Eventually, I reached the river, and that was where my day ended. Pulling the pin felt shameful. A DNF. That was a hard thing to accept as usually I pride myself on consistently racing well. But at that point, I was completely spent. There was also the reality that this wasn’t the end of my season. CCC was only a short turnaround away, and while that doesn’t make the decision easy, this is also my livelihood. Sometimes you have to make difficult decisions.

Afterwards, I went back to the track and watched my competitors, friends, and teammates finish. That was one of the best parts of the weekend. Seeing the different journeys everyone had. Some amazing, some brutal, all of them painful in their own way.

Everyone who finished earned it. Now, with some time to reflect, I don’t regret my decision. I still find myself disappointed. That’s natural. When you believe you’re ready for something and the opportunity slips away, it hurts. You have to learn from these experiences, but you also have to be honest that opportunities don’t come around forever. Western States was a missed opportunity, but there will be more.

The recovery has gone well. We’re enjoying a beautiful holiday in Italy, and training has started again with the focus shifting towards CCC.

The goal remains the same. Keep learning. Keep improving. Keep chasing those moments where everything comes together.

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