Did the pandemic spell the end for ultra-trail racing? For a while there, it seemed like it would. So many organized events were postponed or outright canceled during the first two plus years of the pandemic. But these days, it seems like racing is back on, with events both big and small going forward. Why aren’t we racing them?
Like everyone else, we were sidelined for a while in the early ’20s. Still, when races came back, so did we – initially. But right now, we have no events on the horizon. Strange for someone who built a website about trail and ultra running, isn’t it? Read on to explore our rollercoaster ride with ultra racing in the pandemic era.
Early 2020: Big goals, big races
We had big plans for 2020. After running 12 races in one helluva year in 2019, the plan was to slow down just a tad and focus on some big goals in 2020. After Hong Kong 100 in January, we’d have a few months off to prepare for our next handful of boundary-pushing races.
One of the challenges we wanted to try was altitude. We’ve mostly lived at sea level, and haven’t had the opportunity to do much super high stuff. Both Kent and I were curious about doing an event that started and ended deep in the mountains. So we were stoked about the Yading Skyrunning Festival in wild, southwestern China! We signed on for the 63 kilometer Kora Ultra, which climbed to a pass at 5,030m and featured nearly 4,000m of ascent altogether.
We were living in China in early 2020, so we could count on easy access to this race. Plus, it was put on by the same team who did Devil’s Ridge, a race we loved in 2019! It seemed like the perfect quest for us.
Until, of course, the pandemic hit. In February 2020, we became pandemic refugees: waiting out the pandemic with Kent’s family in the US. By May 2020, it became clear that neither we nor the pandemic were going anywhere fast. Returning to China became less and less likely with each day that passed. Even if we had been in-country, the Yading race was postponed and then ultimately called off.
It was a bummer, but my boundless optimism looked to the next horizon. We were, after all, scheduled to run another race in June 2020!
This one featured another challenge we wanted to tackle: elevation. We’d picked a crazy race for it – one with 7,500 meters of gain over 75 kilometers. What madness is this, you ask? It’s the Rinjani 100, on a volcano of the same name on Lombok island, Indonesia!
Naturally, these being ‘interesting times’ and all, this race, too, was first postponed to 2021, then outright canceled. I stuck around for the first postponement, but ultimately decided to take a refund in the spring of 2021.
I was a shade more disappointed about losing Rinjani, as I had so looked forward to returning to Indonesia: one of my favorite places. I’m also a volcano superfan: half the reason we signed up was me simply wanting to bag Gunung Rinjani.
What kept me going in that dark summer of lost races and lost work opportunities was the promise of Oman. We’d booked a return trip to revenge the race that got away. I could hardly wait to get back to Oman by UTMB healthy and with a stronger mental and physical game. It had been two years since our first attempt in 2018 and we were ready to return for the third edition, scheduled for November 2020.
Here’s one example of just how committed we were: we declined a contract extension with our school in Qingdao. Instead, we signed up for work in Saudi Arabia: with the singular goal of being better prepared for the next Oman by UTMB. Working there would allow us to live in the same climate as the race, and we’d be close enough that we could fly over to train on the course at least once.
Another example? I hired a coach who’d previously won Oman by UTMB! Anna-Marie at Reach For More coaching was going to whip us into the best shape of our lives, plus help us get our mindset race to take on the biggest challenge of our lives – again.
But, as you probably already know, none of my best laid plans worked out in 2020. At the 11th hour, our jobs evaporated. Oman by UTMB was canceled shortly thereafter. And, with no races on the horizon for the foreseeable future, we put our training on pause.
I was devastated. But, I’m an insufferable optimist. When Oman offered us a chance to defer registration for a year, I leapt at the chance. We told our coach we’d come back next year. This was only a set-back, or so I thought then.
Late 2020: Reps > running
With all of the races wiped off the calendar for the rest of 2020, we were without a mission. That just wouldn’t do! So we embarked on a different mission entirely: strength!
For years, we’d talked about getting stronger. Core work promised to help with running, and we wanted to build upper body power, too. To say we were unbalanced athletes is an understatement: we were entirely legs!
I credit Anna-Marie’s coaching with getting us in the mood for more mobility and muscle-building. A few months down the road, we decided that we wanted to get really serious about strength. So once again, I hired a coach: but this time, for a very different purpose!
From September 2021 onwards, my life revolved around circuits, bodyweight training and meal prepping. Even though we had to drop down to just one or two runs per week, I was happy. To my surprise, strength training was a ton of fun!
I enjoyed it so much that at the end of my initial three months of strength coaching, I signed on for three more. I continued to learn and grow well into the new year.
Early 2021: Return to running
When spring returned in 2021, though, I wanted to be out in it. I missed my original sport, and I wanted to see if there was a way I could juggle bodybuilding and ultra-running. It turned out that I could, fairly happily, and so I started lacing up a lot more frequently.
But would there be any races to run?
The only thing we had on the books the entire year was the rescheduled Oman by UTMB in November 2021. But I didn’t have to wait long to learn that, once again, we wouldn’t be entering this event. The organizers sent out the cancellations early, I think it was March. Not only would the 2021 edition not be taking place, they were cancelling the event for good.
I think my heart finally broke at that point. I began to wonder, in earnest, if this was the end of racing. Our prospects, of both racing and returning to the classroom, were bleak.
Not equipped to handle so much bad news, I began flailing around in search of something, anything to serve as a life raft. And it didn’t take me too long to find it: another race.
The Zion Ultras were doable: they were just one state over, so we could drive instead of flying (which at that time involved a lot of testing plus exposure we deemed unnecessary). We were out of practice, but there were short distances too, like a 50k! However, the Zion Ultras had also already sold out, long ago. With limited events on the calendar, and limited entries as a pandemic precaution, was it any wonder?
Still, I couldn’t accept the end of racing. There had to be a way we could run at Zion! So I went on the black market to see if I could nab us two spots at the starting line. I paid a markup, but I did manage to nab us two bibs. Racing was back on!
Then, so was training! With only a few weeks to prepare, we suddenly needed to get serious about running again. However, this was a good thing: it gave me focus and a feeling of purpose. I loved our long training runs in the late winter and early spring of 2020!
Training was the easy part. Almost as soon as we had our bibs, covid case counts began to climb again. We second guessed our desperate registrations. Were we foolhardy? Had we gotten safely through the pandemic thus far only to risk it all for some random 50k? Would we be putting Kent’s family at risk if we went?
Ugh, the moral dilemmas we faced. It felt like the choice was between losing ourselves and accepting this new, dull, raceless reality – or taking a huge risk that could put both us and our loved ones in danger. Ultimately, we decided to do it – but we’d spend two weeks afterwards quarantine-camping.
Looking back on this decision with wisdom from the future, maybe this seems like overkill. After all, the race was outside and we’d just gotten vaccinated. But at the time, it was very much in line with our risk mitigation strategy. Hell, given the exact same constraints, we’d probably do something similar even today. (This is how I’ve avoided covid!)
Both Kent and I struggled with anxiety before, during and after the race – but wound up happy that we did it. But did it signal a return to racing?
Mid 2021: Ultra, our way
Here’s a hint: we did not sign up for any other races for the rest of the year. Although Zion had been a success, the stress surrounding it probably impacted our decision-making when it came to thinking about other races. Moreover, there were few other domestic events that captured our imaginations that year, so we simply didn’t sign up for any more.
Instead, we ran our own ultras! We’d done a bit of this in 2020: we actually ran 5 self-supported ultras in all kinds of places, from our local forest to the Lost Coast.
But in 2021, we got serious about the idea of doing a big, independent ultra. This ultimately led to the Humboldt Hundred: the best secret race on Earth!
The combination of the fun of making our own event and lingering social effects from the pandemic made it seem like this might be the new way forward. Maybe we wouldn’t do so many organized events in these uncertain, oft stressful times, but we could still run ultras!
Late 2021: Return to my roots
A summer spent in state parks nearly had me convinced that I had a future in California. But a handful of things shook me out of that precarious comfort zone: most notably, an illness in the family and a job opportunity outside the country at long last.
I was destined to decamp the US for Thailand late in 2021. And in my new home base in Bangkok, the races beckoned as though they’d never been off.
Before you know it, I was signed up for another UTMB race to replace Oman. In December, I ran Thailand by UTMB!
Then Kent joined me for Ultra-Trail Phuket: an anniversary extravaganza! We quickly signed up for another bucket list race: Ultra-Trail Koh Chang, which would take place the following year in March. There were others that we eyed, too: all kinds of events, all over Thailand.
How could I have ever wondered if racing was over?!
Early 2022: Back to the baseline
But the Omicron hit Southeast Asia, and it hit hard. Soon, scores of events that we were registered for or considering were canceled. It was a bit like early 2020, all over again. Ultra deja vu.
We did manage to run at Koh Chang, and were grateful that we did. It marked the end of a successful season in Thailand. Shortly after the race, we were on our flight back to the US.
Spring 2022 was a bit of a blur of tests for my teaching credential, job interviews, apartment hunting and family reunions. We did not sign up for any domestic races: there was no time, and there weren’t any we wanted desperately to do.
But racing was back on in North America, too, by this point. People, race organizers included, were learning to live with covid. Trail and ultra running went on! It’s just that for the first time since 2016, we weren’t really part of it.
Late 2022: Que sera, sera
Are we currently signed up for any races? No. Is it strange? Yes and no. It feels a lot less strange after three years that just weren’t really about racing. But also yes, because I still define myself as an ultra athlete. I still attend the church of the long run on the weekend. I must be banking miles for something. Or am I?
In previous years, I was most motivated by races. Ultra-trail racing has been a defining feature of my life since the turn of 2016. I can’t imagine it not being something I’m passionate about.
And yet. I have chosen, repeatedly, not to sign up for an ultra-trail race. Here in Hawai’i, there have been two that we could have run – but didn’t. I would love to have a cool new race t-shirt and a local event on my running resume. But that alone isn’t strong enough motivation for me to sign up. At least right now.
Part of the problem is that I’ve always been a destination runner. Both of the local events here have been in areas that I already run regularly. I’m trained well for those specific courses, but they’re less desirable because they are not new to me. Indeed, the idea of running in my precious peaceful places with a ton of other runners does not appeal to me at all.
Also, I think the increasing consumer culture around racing these days has made me choosier. I don’t want to do something just for the sake of doing it: it has to really mean something to me. The financial resources of an amateur athlete are finite, my friends, so I’m only going to shell out for a race if it is one I really want. After all, there’s a whole world out there of waterfall hikes and animal spotting adventures to spend on, too…
For the moment, I’m quite comfortable with no events on my horizon. True, I’m not always stoked about not racing, but I’ve come to live with it. I’m content now, just doing my own thing. I still need the runs, but I don’t need the ultras in the same way I once did.
I’m not sure racing is really finished for me – at least, not forever. There are one or two races that I have my eye on for the future, like my first 100 miler. Whether I get there sooner or later is anybody’s guess. The future’s not ours to see.