I Get To Do This: Reflecting on the Waldo 100K
The Waldo 100k in Central Oregon is keeping ultrarunning weird and wonderful
I arrived at Willamette Pass Resort for the 2023 Waldo 100k package pickup on race eve, after several long days of driving from my home in Calgary, Alberta. The small, old-school ski hill, nestled high in Oregon’s Central Cascades, perfectly captures the communal, convivial, and quirky vibes of Waldo. Campervans filled the compact parking lot. Tents peppered the ad-hoc race weekend camping area adjacent to the ski lodge. Grizzled ultra vets sauntered about in Hard Rock and Western States race tees from last century. Volunteers from the Willamette Ski Patrol jovially dished out a pre-race pasta dinner as runners and crew filled long rows of cafeteria tables to capacity. Although the post-dinner race briefing was not officially mandatory, runners were clearly eager to soak up every drop of Waldo race weekend.
Beginning at 4 a.m. the next morning, the race itself is a singular event. There is a reason why everyone who runs Waldo falls head over heels with this race, seemingly without exception. With 99 of its 100 kilometers featuring pristine singletrack, Waldo is an immersive trail experience, unlike any ultra I have run. The kaleidoscopic cast of characters and larger-than-life scenery really does make the race feel like a page out of a Where’s Waldo book: sleep-deprived runners, wild-eyed Pacific Crest Trail hikers, pack mules hauling out supplies to remote aid stations, volunteers in green alien suits. The lush Pacific Northwest setting, full of towering Douglas fir and redcedar trees, only magnifies Waldo’s whimsical nature.
So many elements conspire to make Waldo such a special race, the most important being the people. Good vibes at Waldo are endless and soul-nourishing. This race just cultivates goodness. From the half dozen or so runners I got to share quality miles with, to the passionately dedicated volunteers, to the support crews of other runners, and of course to my own crew — my wife and parents who selflessly endured many long travel days and a 2 a.m. race day wake up to help me chase my goals. Simply put, everyone at Waldo is someone that you want to know.
I still think about countless memorable interactions throughout race day, but there are a few that especially capture the unique Waldo spirit. I think of the aid station volunteer, an older gentleman at Maiden Lake. Exhausted, sweat-crusted, and borderline delirious as I descended off the steep and exposed Maiden Peak — the brutal, unforgiving crux of the race at 85k — he picked up on my needs better than I could. Filling my flasks, stuffing my palms full of Pringles and salty potatoes, he walked me out of the aid station throwing down beta on the terrain ahead, exuding a love for and intimacy with the Waldo trails weaving through Willamette National Forest. He was genuinely, authentically invested in my success — and the success of every runner before and after me. This generosity is representative of the mindset shared by every Waldo volunteer.
I also think of Brian, a fellow racer who caught me on the climb up Twins, the fourth of the race’s five significant climbs. I remember the realness with which we connected over running and life within minutes of meeting — running through the woods for hours on end tends to have that effect. “We get to do this!” Brian exclaimed as we reflected on why we sign up for the bizarre endurance events that all but guarantee some measure of suffering. We both appreciated that communal trail running experiences like this are such a miraculous combination of good fortune and hard work.
Brian dropped me as we descended to the Twins aid station at 72k. I never saw him again over the final third of the race, but our conversation stayed in my mind as I persisted through the last third of the race, as my stomach revolted and my legs turned to lead.
I get to do this. I refuse to let extreme discomfort distract me from this experience. I savor the beauty of the Rosary Lakes, dropped like three shimmering jewels amid the dense green. I savor the packs of PCT hikers, cheering and raising their trekking poles into a tunnel I run through. I savor the last strip of forest singletrack and the distant clanging of cowbells. I remember that, however badly I want this race to be done, I’ll miss it almost as soon as it’s over.
I get to do this, I remind myself, finding the will to run the final stretch hard for a proud 12:30, 13th overall finish in my longest ultra to date.
I get to do this, I remember now, as I reflect on another race behind me and on the races yet to come, on the alchemy of ultrarunning that leaves people fundamentally changed.
At Waldo, I was reminded of my profound fortune to have a capable body and the opportunity to experience traveling 100k on foot. And doing it on these beautiful trails, supported and surrounded by beautiful people, was one hell of a reward.
I got to do Waldo. I hope that you get to do it, too.
