deschutes river 50k — a solid type two fun, but fun anyway.
sunday, october 20, 2019.
soph and i planned this weekend gateway in 📍bend, oregan, partly because she wanted to scout out her future residence, and partly because i signed up for the deschutes river 50k. the race starts where the city ends and the national forest begins, and advertised on the website as “still within a ten-minute drive of a gazillion breweries”— i was sold right away.
we flew into the redmond airport on friday morning, spent a few hours at the 📍smith rock state park — one of my favorite places on earth. it was a bit nostalgic to re-visit the park not as a climber, but as a runner; some of my best sports climbs happened here. as we hiked up the misery ridge, i wonder if and when i’ll ever be able to climb its iconic monkey face.
we stopped at a vegan food truck on our drive to bend, checked into our airbnb (it did not disappoint), strolled along the deschutes river and around the tiny downtown area. we hauled home a pack of peanut butter porter from wild ride brew, cracked one open and had a soul chat in the hot tub under the stars. ✨
before i passed out, i checked the forecast for saturday one more time. it was looking (a) cold and (b) wet — a high of 49f with light rain in the morning. not ideal, but nothing i can’t handle.
so i packed a long sleeve, a rain jacket, headlamp and gloves, made a mental note to hydrate often, and thought i’d be good to go.
little did i know what i was about to encounter.
here are my key takeaways from the race, with some recap thrown in:
one. sometimes life throws you curveballs.
little did i know, two thirds of the course would be covered in 4–6 inches of fresh snow, and the rest a mudfest. it would rain and snow the entire time. i would sprain my ankle at mile 8 and wouldn’t have felt much because my feet would be so wet and so cold. my hands would be so numb that a volunteer at the aid station would have to help me tie my shoes.
little did i know, the unexpected weather conditions would make this race particularly challenging. here’s a special weather statement issued by the same forecast site i found out after the race:
a potent fall weather system will continue to pass over the region today through this evening, bringing rain, mountain snow, and strong winds. in addition, breezy and windy conditions expected across most of the region with gusts 30 to 45 mph or higher. those traveling or outdoor recreating should expect hazardous weather conditions and plan accordingly.
uh oh. too late.
two. you gotta hit them out of the park!
now i’m sitting in the sanctity of a local cafe, sipping a cup of warm coffee as the leaves outside the window gently fall onto the ground, i can finally say that it’s cool that my first running experience in the snow happened during a 50k race.
the first few miles were a blur. it started to rain pretty much the minutes we were off. not fully awake yet, i mindlessly followed a pack of runners on the single track. all i could remember was that (a) the autumn foliage along the deschutes river was gorgeous and (b) no picture would be taken because i was not going to take my gloves off any time soon (or at all, as it turned out).
we peeled off the river trail at mile 8, starting a gradual climb up to kiwa butte where on a clear day we could scope mt. bachelor (not today). it got almost instantly colder as the elevation gained. the raindrops turned into snowflakes. before i knew it, i was slipping and sliding through the snow.
i had never run in the snow before, and didn’t know what to expect. the coldness numbed my hands and my feet, but not my brain. there were a couple of times during the snowy stretch (mile 8–22) in which i seriously considered giving up. okay, not that seriously. but many what-the-fucks crossed my mind, and i definitely questioned the stupidity of it all. especially when i realized, bitterly, that hiking was twice as hard as running so i was forced to keep grinding up the climb with a shortened stride. demoralizing.
still, there’s silver lining. most of the snowy miles were shared with a girl from british columbia, and a few others drifting in and out of our two-women pack. we ran together and got lost together — we missed the course markings and had to trace back to the course, twice. we chatted, we ranted, we bonded over misery. but most of the time, we ran in silence, with only the sound of our foot steps and the gusting wind. together, we ran through aspen groves and ponderosas. there’s a sense of tranquillity. we stayed in the present, putting our heads down, and churning out the sloppy steps one at a time.
we were small dots in a wild world of white, yet we formed a line of strength.
we finally ran into the aid station at mile 20, where i saw volunteers dancing through the snow, cheering us on, filling our packs, and one of them helped me lace up my shoes. that act of extra kindness (and the instant intake of three pb&j sandwich bites — oh man they were godsent) really boosted my moral. they were out there in such conditions to support our selfish and silly pursuits. they reminded me that we do these stupid things “for fun”, after all.
three. you are probably going to fall and in most cases it is totally fine.
right after the aid station, and at the beginning of a long, slippery descent, i took a fall (shocking, i know; clumsy ever since puberty). i bursted out a curse and sprang right back up. if anything, the fall flooded me with adrenaline that kept my heart beating fast and my senses peaked for next 10 miles. the rain softened and the snow melted away; it started to get warm and mellow, like pillows of rock and roll, and my heart was jamming carrie underwood’s “the champion”.
i am invincible, unbreakable
unstoppable, unshakeable
they knock me down, i get up again
i am the champion
things turned around and i felt indestructible all the way to the finish.
back at the start/finish area, folks lined up their hands for me to run under. everyone was cheering, so damn loud. the energy was so boisterous, bouncy, and bubbly that i couldn’t help but appreciate everything i had been through in the past six hours. with a big, silly grin, i high-fived the race director and crossed the finish line.
soph was there, smiling. she hugged me, and handed over a hot mocha. i couldn’t think of a better way to end the race. ♥️
four. don’t take it too seriously.
true, it was a bit slower and a lot more miserable than i expected. i was definitely ill-prepared for the condition. but hell, i endured and finished strong. i made friends. and i swallowed a hundred peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. with zero guilt.
at the end of day, all it matters is that i had an adventurous morning out there exploring a new landscape and feeling connected to the land and the community.
running always teaches me something about life. this time, i learned that shortening up strides is a useful technique when things become suddenly slick. it helps my feet under my center gravity, and the added traction goes a long way in keeping me upright. in other words, shorter strides keep me grounded.
there are so many times where we fail to take action because the issue feels so imminent and so overwhelming at the same time. it rings especially true to me right now, as i have so much shit to get rid of; the task seems so astronomical that i don’t even know where to start. i remember the youth-led climate strikes not long ago, and i remember sharing their frustrations on our inaction towards climate change. i wonder if we (individuals, communities, cities and nations) are reluctant to act quickly for the similar reasons — the problem seems simultaneously imminent and distant. distant because its scale too large and consequences too significant. yes, solutions at the global, policy level are important; but i wonder if we can remind ourselves that we can and should at the same time take shorter strides, and they’re equally important in tackling a big, snowy mountain. solutions can be immediate and localized, personalized as well.
it’s difficult, if not impossible, to grasp the concept of saving our planet all at once, but it feels tangible, and entirely possible, to focus on small steps, one at a time — ride a bike 🚲, carry a coffee mug ☕️, eat plants 🌱, and help build a local trail ⛰.
on that note, i am going to bike round the town of bend and hunt for some local favorites while waiting for soph to return from her hike — i decided to skip it today and give my ankle some well-deserved rest. and then, later tonight, we’ll enjoy another soul chat in the hot tub.
