It has been about six weeks since I finished the Tahoe 200 race and recovery seems to be going well. My heart and lungs are able to function while running and can even withstand some short, harder paces. There are a couple tight areas in my legs that start to flare up when I run, but it seems to get better with each run. The first two weeks after finishing the race were a struggle; my heart and lungs could barely power me up the hills I regularly run. Six weeks later, there has definitely been some progress in my body’s recovery. I have been doing 3-5 mile runs during the week and one or two 8-12 mile runs on the weekends.

I have done a lot of thinking and reflecting on my experience at the race. Writing my three-part race report allowed me to dig deep into my thoughts and memories throughout the journey. My mental and physical state fluctuated greatly over the course of the race and there are many lessons I learned along the way.

Two days after I finished, I was thinking about the race while taking a shower. I told Kerong I have to go back. And that I had a plan for how I was going to prepare. I will use the rest of this year to consistently train and maintain a base volume of running. Next year I will do two 100-mile races with no crew. Then, in 2027, I will go back to Tahoe 200 with a crew, and, hopefully, run under 72 hours (like I thought I could six weeks ago). This plan came to me all at once while standing in the shower after a painful run, two days after finishing Tahoe 200.

In order to get myself back to Tahoe 200 in a better position to run faster, I will focus on the lessons I learned at this year’s race. The following paragraphs will detail some of these learnings and how I will address them in the future. I know I have the capability to run under 72 hours – I just need to address some weak points and allow myself to learn from my mistakes.

1. Running in the high mountains is fucking hard

In the months leading up to the race, I focused on running volume and time on feet, as well as vertical gain and loss. I did not focus much on running fast, just simply running a lot on the local mountains and roads. I had heard going into the race that the trails in Tahoe were quite runnable and “not technical.” On race-day this proved to be true. Most of the course was smooth terrain and the elevation was substantial, but gradual with a lot switchbacks.

I think I got a bit cocky, knowing the trails in my local Santa Barbara were quite technical and steep. After some long training runs, my confidence was quite high that I could keep a steady 3-4 mile per hour pace, which would set me up for a sub-3-day finish. But my longest run was 10 hours and 40 miles. Tahoe 200 would be 5 times this distance.

I found out on day one of the race that running 200 miles in the mountains, no matter how technical or steep, is really hard. After a while, my body was really beat up. I was not even 50 miles in when my legs started to cramp and my head throbbed from the high altitude. I remember the weight of the distance really sunk in around 1am of the first night when my headlamp died on top of a mountain. I had to figure out how to problem-solve while feeling totally exhausted.

2. Sleep deprivation is a major factor that demands respect

I listened to multiple podcasts and read multiple race reports that mentioned the issue of sleep in multi-day events. Some 200-mile runners make a plan to sleep at certain times and for certain lengths each day. Other runners push until they feel they must sleep to continue and then lay down for sleep wherever they are. My plan was to try the latter option, sleep only when I feel I must. I did not want to waste time trying and failing to sleep. I did not anticipate the level of sleepiness I would begin to feel in the race and how slow my pace would become as the sleepiness compounded.

During the first day, I felt mostly okay as far as sleep goes. I went about 20 hours before getting to an aid station where I could sleep in a cot. My crew insisted that I should sleep there and I agreed. But it was mostly because I felt it was the right thing to do. Later in the race I would begin to feel I needed to sleep more and more. There were numerous moments that I could feel my brain starting to shut off while hiking. After taking a nap, I would wake up feeling groggy and sometimes forget where I was and what I was doing.

As I fell deeper into the sleepy blackhole, my pace dramatically slowed down. My mood also fell to a melancholy state. I began to lose confidence in my ability to finish the race.

If I had included more overnight, sleepy trail runs in my training, I may have had more resistance to the wall of sleep. I may have been able to keep my energy high and positive if I knew how difficult the sleep challenge would be.

I also forgot to drink coffee or take caffeine pills throughout the race. This probably would have helped me resist the sleep urge.

3. High altitudes and heat are a tough combination that make for a challenge

The first major climb of the race took us to the high point of the course, at ~9,800 feet elevation, and the rest of the race contained a large number of miles at 8,700 – 9,200 feet.

The high altitude had a noticeable effect on my heart, lungs, and brain. Living in the coastal city of Santa Barbara, I spend most of my time at or close to sea level. My body does not get exposed to the low-oxygen air of the higher altitudes, leaving my heart and lungs vulnerable.

As I climbed higher during the race, I felt a headache develop. This headache seemed to start when I climbed above ~8,500 feet and would go away once I dropped back below. The headache made it hard to concentrate or problem-solve. The relative effort it took to hike a step in the high altitudes versus sea level was much higher. My pace slowed considerably in the highest altitudes of the race.

I am not sure if there is a good way to train for high alpine mountains when living at sea level. The air feels so different, its hard to replicate in other places.

The hot temperatures also exerted my body, especially on long, sun-exposed climbs (of which there was plenty). The sun seemed to become more intense the higher we climbed, as if those couple thousand extra feet made a difference to the sun’s strength.

The altitude sickness coupled with the heat made my stomach feel quite nauseous. It became harder to eat and drink, which would have serious effects on my nutrition. The nutrition aspect is very important in multi-day races; the engine needs to be maintained to perform at a high level.

If I can focus on these three lessons, I think I will be in a better position to run a much faster race. I will use the two 100-mile races next year to build back some self-confidence and to practice relying on myself and the aid stations to get through the challenge.

The purpose of doing a couple 100-mile races with no crew is to force myself to be more self-reliant. At Tahoe, once the exhaustion really set in, I let my crew totally take over my race plan. They did a great job keeping me moving to the finish line, but I did not contribute equally to the plan and decision-making. I think this also slowed me down. If I feel more agency and responsibility in my performance, I will move faster. I will use a couple 100-mile races next year to practice this self-reliance.

Overall, I am glad I completed the race and was able to keep going when things got really tough, but I know I can do better. That thought will keep itself burrowed in my brain until I go back and truly give the race my best effort.