Transgrancanaria: The Result

Some flight-home reflections from the TGC Classic win.

Rather than giving a play-by-play breakdown of the whole race, I wanted to focus on a few recurring themes that were in my head during Transgrancanaria. I assume basically nothing that happens to me is unique, so many of you may know what I mean when I say that during races there are little phrases that pop into my head and stick around. I don’t really go into races with premeditated mantras, but these phrases sort of end up becoming mantras throughout the day.

We can basically skip the first 47 miles. The bullet points are:

• I went out hard and was in the lead early, which is not at all my normal style. But it felt right in the moment and was fun. It didn’t feel like I was working that hard, but I couldn’t argue with my heart rate data so I dialed it back quickly enough that it didn’t cause any problems, and I don’t regret it because I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to try that.

• Jon Albon, Josh Wade, and I had such a nice squad going for so long. It was this great dynamic of being sort of chatty and lighthearted, but at the same time we were feeling each other out and occasionally testing each other. Like, mutual respect but a common understanding that this wasn’t going to be a race where we finish holding hands. There wasn’t that much deep introspection or pain cave time because it felt more social and like we were waiting for something to happen. It was clear from very early on that the winner of the race was going to come out of our lead pack.

• Morgan absolutely nailed crewing duties (solo, through the night, 7 months pregnant). So much more to say about her and how amazing she was for this race specifically, but for now: this day would not have happened without her.

One of my three or so pics from the day. Really missed not having a photographerinthewoods supplying me with content.

And that brings us to Tejeda. Josh and I had made a little push while Jon was taking a minute to get his stomach under control in the previous aid station and a small gap had appeared. That showed me the importance of taking advantage of moments of weakness to create distance. If you’re an elite runner reading this you’re probably like “duh, yeah put gaps on people” but honestly I don’t think I’ve ever really raced like that. I don’t come from a competitive running background and a lot of that sort of strategy is new to me. I also haven’t often felt fit enough to do that, it’s been more like start out conservative and pick a pace I can hold and scoop people up as they blow up ahead of me. Which is fine for getting top-10s or top-5s or whatever, but it’s so different to actually be in the game at the front. Ok so with that as context, the first phrase in my head was “play to win.” I was thinking about how this is such a stupid thing we do to our bodies when we race like this and how much it hurts, but then I reminded myself that it’s all a game. I thought about how Jon or Josh might pass me and beat me, and how I’d be totally at peace with that because at least I had finally played to win.

The next phrase is related. It came around mile 52 on the climb to El Garañón. Josh had been putting in little surges for hours and I’d been matching him. After most uphill surges, he’d switch from a run to a hike for a bit after I’d catch up to recover. I went for more of a slow and steady approach, just grinding uphill in a low gear jog. Slower than Josh’s surges, but faster than his hiking, which then would force him back into a run because he never wanted to give me an inch and seemed to like being in front. I was fine with that for a while but realized that eventually I’d need to make a move if I wanted to get ahead. At mile 52 I think he must have clipped a rock with a toe or something because he stumbled a bit and took a few seconds to really get going again. I looked back and saw the most space between us I’d seen in 30 miles, so I decided to give it a shot. The phrase here was “break the elastic.” The bond that had held us together for so many miles would take a hard push to break. The first thing I told Morgan at the crew station at the top of that hill a few miles later was “I burned a lot of matches on that hill, we’ll see how this goes.” But by that point I had put a couple minutes between me and Josh, as well as Jon who I’d later learned was very close to Josh by that crew point. That was the end of my social running for the day and the start of pain cave time.

For the most part, I tried to turn off my brain and just run but I’m not really used to leading races and I was running scared. My legs hurt. Any thought I was having was mostly wondering where Jon and Josh were and if they were gaining on me. The final phrase of the day came out me trying to talk myself into being ok with how much things were hurting. The train of thought was:

1. This hurts.

2. The only thing that would hurt worse than this is if they catch me.

3. If they catch me they’ll control my pace, but right now I control my pace.

4. Don’t let them catch me.

5. Ultrarunning is supposed to hurt.

6. So let it hurt. So make it hurt. At least I control the hurt.

I hate how corny this sounds, but the part of this that really stuck with me I think was semi-subconsciously influenced by that Nike Superbowl commercial a couple weeks ago where they kept saying contradictions like “You can’t win. So win.” Maybe that commercial resonated with me so much because I had just watched it air in Portland with the Nike Trail Team. I guess that advertising got me because I had a lot of those pop in my head and the thing that implanted most was “so let it hurt.” With that on repeat, I chucked myself down that rocky descent and smashed my quads with every ankle-threatening step. It felt good to be in control.

My finishing time was 12 hours 17 minutes. About an hour faster than I thought the winning time would be, or that I could finish. About 25 minutes faster than anyone has ever gone on any version of that course since the race’s inception 26 years ago. Yeah, the route was a bit different than previous years. Yeah, conditions were good. But like that was fast. I’m proud of myself. I keep reinforcing in my brain that I’m to the point now where I can actually compete, and I have a feeling I’ve still got some room for improvement. Excited for what’s next, but mostly content with what just happened.

If you’ve read this far, you deserve to see this pic of Finn taken 30 seconds ago in the Amsterdam airport during our 9-hour layover. “Better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.” -MM