There are a few races I keep coming back to, both because of the beauty of the course and the chance to travel to an interesting location. The Gorge Waterfalls races traverse a network of trails along the Columbia Gorge. All three of the races—the 30K, 50K and 100K—require runners to negotiate technical scree sections and pass under waterfalls that reach halfway up the mountainside. By the time runners cross the finish line in Cascade Locks, they’ll have navigated singletrack, grassy slopes, roads and even a knee-deep creek crossing.
Last year I ran the 100K, but this time around I wanted to opt for the shorter 30K distance.
On Wednesday we made the drive to the Gorge and the next morning Nick joined me for an easy run through meadows thick with golden balsam root. We enjoyed vegan banh mi sandwiches at Golden Goods and browsed the local bookstore downtown (for every 10 minutes I spent browsing, I pick up another book so I have to keep my visits short.) We relaxed in the sunshine with Cashew. In comparison to the prep required for a 100K, Friday’s 30K race felt easy. I would see Nick just once during the race where I’d swap out bottles of Open Fuel and grab a few gels. Even with a 10 am start, I’d be done by lunch.
With a mandatory forty-minute bus shuttle to the start of the race and a 10 am start time, I knew a proper warm-up would be tight. With that in mind, I did an easy 15 minutes before getting on the bus with the plan of finishing the warm-up and getting in some necessary strides before the start. Based on the posted race day schedule, I’d have about 20 minutes to do so.
I said goodbye to Nick and Cashew, got on the bus and as we started driving was surprised to see the bus make a left toward a toll bridge. A moment later we were on the Bridge of the Gods and crossing the Columbia River Gorge.
We passed a sign: Entering Washington. At no point does the race go through Washington.
As we reached the other side, people on the bus began to shout at the bus driver that we were going the wrong way. The driver turned the bus around and then we were going back over the bridge again. It was clear the bus driver did not know where he was going.
What I can control: Let go of any anxiety about being late. Trust that the race won’t start with runners missing through no fault of their own.
Someone at the front of the bus pulled up Google Maps on his phone and began directing the bus driver on how to get to the start of our race. An hour later, at 9:57 am, we finally arrived at Wahkeena Day Use area. The race was slated to start in three minutes.
As we waited for the buses to unload, I saw several of the Nike ACG pros (which was most of the field because this was a Nike ACG sponsored race) getting out of vehicles and leaving behind their warm-up gear. It looked like they had been driven to the start which was odd because everything on the race website said that taking the shuttle was mandatory.
I left the bus and hurried to the porta-potty line which was more than a hundred deep. Surely they’ll delay the start long enough, I thought. A second later I heard the people in line behind me saying that the first wave was starting in ten minutes! I left the line, ducked under a bush to pee and dropped my jacket with a pile of bags that we were told would be delivered back to the finish. There would be no warm-up.
What I can control: Let go of the warm-up and do what I can to be ready with the time I’ve been given.
I darted to the cluster of runners at the start and two minutes later, after an opening poem about the beauty of the Gorge was read, we were off. Everyone was sprinting, all of us vying for a spot in the front before we left the road and ascended the singletrack. Within ten seconds I got elbowed in the face and then kicked in the shin.
What I can control: Let it go and shake it off. You can still see and it wasn’t hard enough to do any damage.
One of my goals for this race was to put myself in the lead pack from the start. Almost immediately I was having a hard time keeping up. As we switchbacked up toward Multnomah Falls, I fell into 5th place female. This is when the cramps started and they were just about the worst ones I’ve had.
What I can control: Focus on my breathing. Break the pain and discomfort into something manageable.
I kept running but the cramps got so painful that I began looking for a place to step off the trail and take a moment to sit through the pain.
Maybe because of this, or maybe because I just wasn’t paying attention, I twisted my ankle, badly. Like every trail runner, I’ve rolled my ankle before; typically all that’s needed are a few tentative steps and I’m fine to go again. But this was not like that. I had to stop and pull over on the side of the trail to let everyone pass while I breathed through the ankle pain.
What I can control: Focus on the present. The first step is to get through the pain and see how injured I am.
I tried to run but found I couldn’t, so limped down the trail, wondering how to get myself out of this situation. During this time I was passed, over and over again. I stepped aside to let the oncoming runners through. As I walked, the pain lessened and I found I could bear more weight on my ankle. I tried a light jog and it was doable, so I decided to give it a go, knowing I had no options until the first aid station at mile 5; turning around would have me running into 400 people on tight singletrack above a waterfall. Sitting down would have me in a patch of poison oak. I needed to continue.
As I continued, the pain decreased but inverting or everting my foot was painful so I focused on where I was stepping and how I placed my foot.
I came into the first aid station at mile 5, knowing I could drop if I needed to. I wasn’t having the race I had hoped for—far from it—but I didn’t believe I was doing lasting damage to my ankle by continuing.
What I can control: Get to mile 12.2 where Nick is waiting. I can reassess then.
As the miles went on, I found I still had energy so decided to try and catch as many women as I could. Plantar pain in my right foot seared on the flats, my achilles felt like it was being bitten on the ascents, but I was managing.
Coming into the aid station at Wahclella Falls, I made the decision to keep going. As I ran past Nick, we exchanged bottles and I briefly told him about my ankle. But there wasn’t anything to do about it, so I kept going.
What I can control: I can continue and see if I might make it to the end of the race.
Slowly I began working my way back up from 13th female down to 12th, 11th, and 10th before settling into 9th place a few miles from the finish. As the course veered from the trail and onto the finishing road miles, I saw two women ahead. My first thought was oh no. I didn’t want to have to push any harder than I already was. But I knew that I would value having given it my all, right up to the end.
What I can control: I’m going to work as hard as I can to catch them.
As I worked through the discomfort and the miles clicked by, the two women began to separate. The woman in pink was increasing her distance on me, but I still had a chance to catch the second woman. We were now running through downtown Cascade Locks, the finishing chute just a quarter mile away.
What I can control: Even if it’s a painful finish line sprint, I’m going for it.
Just as the woman entered the finishing chute, I passed her, sprinting as hard as I could to the neon orange banner of the finish ahead.
I finished in 8th place and nearly 15 minutes slower than I had hoped. In the moment, 8th felt like nothing exceptional. But I knew that a future version of myself would be proud that I had tried my best, even when the placement didn’t really matter.
If nothing else, every race offers the chance to develop a new skill and the races that don’t go as planned are perhaps the most fruitful—if you so choose to harvest the fruit that can be gleaned. This was the race I had and while so much felt out of my control, I still had the opportunity to make decisions when presented with these obstacles. I could pause and recenter myself or become frantic with what-ifs. I could drop from the race or finish in an unremarkable time (for me)…or I could glean what I could from the circumstances and develop resilience for the future. I could feel disappointed by the result of the race (which I did for a couple of hours) or I could feel proud of myself for what I had been able to do (which is how I feel now.) Nothing is black or white, all or nothing.
Nothing, that is, except for my hatred for the poison oak which has begun to develop on my legs. Poison oak I’ll always be happy to shun.
A few links:
I recently wrote a piece in this month’s special Trail issue Canadian Running Magazine. Check it out for a solid hill workout to include in your training repertoire.
John Trent published a wonderful article about my running journey in the latest Ultrarunning Magazine. You can subscribe here! I recommend doing so as the magazine consistently publishes quality pieces. In the growing world of AI, supporting writers is especially important.
One of the athletes I coach is a terrific writer and he recently penned a piece that’s worth your time. Consider reading Rhys Desmond’s article, Nike ACG athletes granted alternate start-line access at Gorge Waterfalls 30K.
Nick and I both have a few open spaces on our coaching roster. If you’re interested in working with either of us, reach out here!
Thank you to Altra and Open Fuel for all of the support!
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