Quest for WS

      Snake encounters are inevitable. In many parts of the US, including the northern Sierra Nevada foothills where I live, coming across snakes between the months of March and November is a certainty. I don't have an active count of how many snakes I've seen while running, but this year alone, the count is somewhere around nine. These encounters range from running past harmless insect-eating snakes to unwittingly running right up to large and pissed off rattlers. With these intimidating slithery creatures on the prowl in our playground, it's worth considering what role they play in the risks associated with trail running and hiking, and how much of our brain space we should allow them to consume.      To be perfectly fair, I think it's important to point out that fear of snakebites is not in any way unfounded. Venomous snakes are dangerous. Around 8,000 people are bitten by venomous snakes every year in the US, and many of those people suffer the effects ...

The California runner is not afraid of winter. While we cruise along trails, climbing coastal mountains in our T-shirts and sunglasses, we hear stories from our midwestern brothers and sisters of heavy layers, micro-spikes, and socks being used for unusual purposes (ask them, not me). Frankly, it is not the cold that we fear, nor is it the heat. Rather, it’s a byproduct of our ordinarily balmy climate. Despite temps regularly surpassing 100 degrees Fahrenheit in some regions (around 38 degrees Celsius for our metric friends), most Californian runners will tell you that the heat isn’t a major problem. Our dry climate makes for cool mornings, and even on the worst of days a 7 AM run merely means pushing through the low 80s. Unfortunately, the dry climate has a dark side. Months without rain means very dry and often dead vegetation, meaning all it takes is a windy day and a spark to bring trouble. Depending on where you live, this can be perilous, but regardless, all fires generate sm...

     The crowd at placer high school was abuzz on December 7th, 2019. The auditorium was filled with hundreds of semi-locals, many of whom hoped their name would be on one of 269 tickets pulled from a drum containing more than 25,000. For most people, odds were stiff, but for some, being selected to run the Western States 100 was a near certainty. When the first of nine 8-year applicants was called, the crowd exploded with excitement. Anytime someone in the audience was called, the crowd lit up, but we all had empathy for the 8-year applicants. To be an 8-year applicant, runners have to run a hard 100k or 100 miler to qualify, enter the lottery, be rejected from the lottery, and then repeat the process for seven more years. For first-year applicants, odds are horrendous (this year about 1.2%), but every year runners enter and aren’t selected, their odds double. If at any point, however, they fail to run a qualifier on some calendar year, or forget to enter the lott...

     The Sean O’Brien 100k is really freaking tough. There’s 13,000 feet of elevation gain, and you only have 16 hours to complete it—that’s no joke. But the thing is, ultra marathon runners are tough people. They know what they’re getting themselves into, and most of Sean O’Brien’s competitors have run longer and harder races before. Due to a variety of unseen factors, however, the race is a DNF machine, sending dozens of experienced ultrarunners back to the start/finish area without a finisher’s medal to take home. It’s not the course or the time cutoff that makes this race so challenging, however, but the unusual ease of quitting that doesn’t exist at the majority of ultra marathons. It possesses a remarkable ability to get in your head, and every year dozens of runners allow it to do just that.        For starters, the race dangles the finish line and your accompanying car (and hence food, shower, hotel) in front of your face at a variety of...

     There’s something special about the Western States 100. It’s hard to describe, but the best simplification I can come up with is that it’s humanity at its finest. Sure, it’s just an arbitrary competition, but in the big picture it’s more than that. It’s 369 people attempting to do something incredibly hard and thousands of surrounding people offering them help doing it. It’s a welcome summer day of excitement, positivity and a massive amount of human kindness, and for the past four years it’s been my favorite day of the year.   The first time I went to the race was in 2016. That year, I talked my mom into driving out to the small town of Foresthill for the afternoon—62 miles into the race. We watched Jim Walmsley fly by at a pace that was unprecedented for a person trying to run 100 miles in the mountains. We followed him to the river (mile 78) and watched with panic as it swept him 20 meters away from the crossing before he safely reached the othe...

Kia Ora friends and family! This weekend marked a relatively special day for me. When April 23rd rolled around, I turned 21 years old. Legally, it’s not a particularly important birthday here in New Zealand, where the drinking age is 18, but it is heavily celebrated (probably due to that pesky American influence). On the day, I was in the middle of a bit of vacation up on the North Island with some friends, and frankly I’m not into raging as much as some of my other peers, so the night consisted primarily of a few casual drinks and good chat.   I was also reminded that I first arrived in New Zealand on January 22nd, meaning that I’d just surpassed three months in this incredible country. During that time, I’ve visited almost all of the major cities in New Zealand, traveled to and completed some epic tramps, and explored the heck out of every trail I could get to from my front door. It’s all been amazing.   Still, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows all the time (...

     It was several months ago that I applied to spend a year studying in New Zealand. I knew I wanted to study abroad and eventually chose New Zealand due to its beautiful scenery, adventurous spirit, and small population of humans. I had initially intended to apply for a trip back to China (feeling like I should make use of my rusty Mandarin skills), before finally deciding that I wasn't keen to spend a year in a major metropolitan area. So, after many google searches and youtube videos watched, I knew whole heartedly that New Zealand was the place I wanted to spend my next year. Specifically, I settled on the South Island city of Dunedin—a moderately sized city featuring beaches and mountains, and cooler weather than I'm used to.    When I finally was accepted into the program about five months prior to my departure, I was always reluctant to share the details of the trip with friends and family. Even though I committed, there were many things I was uncertai...