Race Recap - UTMB Canyons 100KM Ultramarathon

Lessons:

1. Set realistic goals. It's great to be ambitious and shoot for the stars, but without any previous benchmark, it can be easy to fall into the trap of beating yourself up for not reaching a potentially unrealistic goal. Simply "having fun" can be a goal as well.

2. Clearly define your goals and plan accordingly to optimize the use of your limited resources. 

3. Never skip an aid station. Take your time mentally and physically preparing for the next leg of the race.

4. Always be prepared. It's better to have something and not use it, then need it and not have it.

5. Shared pain is half the pain. Find someone that is on a parallel journey and challenge each other to be better and to keep making progress.

6. Don't underestimate the power of slow and forward progress. No matter the distance or challenge, continually taking steps closer to the finish will always get you there.

7. Success is rarely ever achieved without the support of others.

I'll be sharing the highlights of the hardest physical and mental challenge I've undertaken to date, the Canyons 100km Ultramarathon. 

Race Goal

Toeing the line of the Canyons 100KM Ultramarathon was a journey in itself. In the fall of 2023, my Ankylosing Spondylitis symptoms became so severe that I couldn’t train adequately for the race. Consequently, I deferred my registration from 2024 to 2025. At that time, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever consider completing the race. However, after starting a new medication and completing other races throughout 2024, I gained the confidence to give it a shot.

Having never run longer than a marathon, especially not on trails, I had no gauge of how well—or poorly—I would perform on such a challenging course. The race starts at 5:00 AM, and many competitors run through the night to meet the cutoff time at 1:00 AM the following morning. One of my goals was simply to finish the course; completing it before dark would be a bonus. Ultimately, I just wanted to have fun.

Lesson: Set realistic goals.  It's great to be ambitious and shoot for the stars, but without any previous benchmark, it can be easy to fall into the trap of beating yourself up for not reaching a potentially unrealistic goal.  Simply "having fun" can be a goal as well.  

Nutrition Plan 

I’ve heard ultramarathons described as full-day buffets with some running between food stations. After completing the 100KM race, I can certainly agree.

Planning nutrition during training was challenging. My longest training run leading up to the race was 70 kilometers, during which I consumed a range of gels, fig bars, maple syrup, carbohydrate powders (maltodextrin), and electrolytes. I knew I couldn’t carry all the nutrition I’d need, so I relied on on-course offerings, which included various snacks and candies, gels, soup, ramen, fruit, waffles, quesadillas, chicken broth, and electrolyte drinks.

Concerned that introducing new foods during such a long race might lead to gastric distress, I started with primarily gels and some solid foods (fig bars and waffles). As the race progressed, I stuck mainly to gels, chicken broth, and electrolyte drinks.

Before the race, I consumed my typical pre-race meals: spaghetti to carbo-load, and for race morning breakfast—oatmeal, banana, and maple syrup. The one change I made was consuming a 500ml bottle of water mixed with maltodextrin, Gatorade, and maple syrup, along with one salt tablet and a caffeinated gel fifteen minutes before the start.

After studying the course profile, I strategized my food intake. The first 50 kilometers were very steep, so consuming too much food before a climb could hinder digestion due to blood flow being directed to my muscles. I focused on consuming solid foods on descents and gels slightly before climbs, with small sips of electrolytes to wash it all down. This strategy worked well for the first half of the race, as I didn’t feel too full, and my energy levels remained stable. 

Lesson: Never skip an aid station. Take your time mentally and physically preparing for the next leg of the race.  

Final Results

Overall, I couldn't be happier with this performance.  I just wanted to enjoy the experience and complete the race in one piece.  I felt great for most of the race and ended up place 94th overall and 16th in my category.  Despite having some hiccups along the way, I believe that it is all part of the journey and makes the experience more memorable.  

Special thanks to my family for coming to support me during the race and to the spectators, race organizers, and volunteers. 

Weather

This was a unique race venue, because it starts at 1,400 meter elevation near the top of a mountain range just outside of Auburn, CA. I had expected the weather to be relatively warm and to continuously get hotter throughout the day, similar to previous years.  As the race approached, the temperature continued to drop each day and the forecast started to project rain on race day. 

It snowed off and on for the first two hours of the race and rained for pretty much the entire race.  It turned out to be perfect conditions, because I didn't dehydrate and was able to moderate my body temperature by putting out harder efforts when it got chilly and was able to cool down when I got too hot.  

What's Next... 

While I was traveling through Asia, I really enjoyed my time in Southeast Asia, in particular Malaysia.  I decided to see whether I could one day move there, so I'm moving to Malaysia for two months starting in a week!  While I am there, I will be training for HYROX Singapore which will be held at the end of June and also Ironman California which is at the end of October.  

I'm both excited and nervous to be moving to another part of the world!  Wish me luck!

Thanks for reading!  

Training 

Training for this race came with its own set of challenges—the biggest being my six-month trip through South America and Asia. Unlike traditional race prep, ultramarathon training emphasizes “time on feet,” focusing more on extended periods of running or jogging across varied terrain than on pure speed.

Because of my constant travel, my training was inconsistent and sporadic. I did my best to fit in longer runs as a way to explore new cities, but my overall training volume fell short of the plan I had followed in 2023. The most consistent training I managed while abroad was in Korea, though it was primarily on city streets with minimal elevation gain, which made me concerned about how well it would prepare me for the course.

To make up for this, I moved back to California for four weeks leading up to the race to get more focused trail time and spend time with family. I also anticipated warm weather on race day, so heading south helped me acclimate to the expected heat.

Although my race-specific training was compressed due to my travel schedule, I learned the importance of prioritizing key objectives while accepting certain constraints—like travel, health, and life commitments. In the past, I’d try to cram in every workout on my training plan and beat myself up if I missed one. Now, I categorize workouts as A (must-do, highest value), B (nice-to-do), and C (only if there’s time). By consistently completing all my A workouts—like hill training and strength work—I ensured I was hitting the most impactful sessions. From there, I distributed any extra time toward B and C workouts.

This prioritization helped me stick to a plan that felt both sustainable and effective. Despite the shorter blocks, I felt I made the most of my time and resources—and I was genuinely satisfied with how my training turned out.

Lesson: Clearly define your goals and plan accordingly to optimize the use of your limited resources.  

Race

This race was one of the most challenging endurance events—both physically and mentally—I’ve ever completed. I began my taper the week before and felt confident I had done what I could to prepare. My goal of finishing before dark felt reasonable. But three days before the race, I developed a sharp pain running down the right side of my neck into my shoulder and back. I wasn’t sure if it was from overtraining, a poor sleeping position, or stress—but I couldn’t fully turn my neck, which was worrisome. I stretched, massaged, and took pain medication to relieve it, but by race morning, my neck was still stiff. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt while running, so I decided to push through and head to the start line.

I followed my usual pre-race routine, but this race was unique in that I had to take a 45-minute bus ride to the start line. I woke up at 1:45 a.m., completed my rituals, and caught the 2:45 a.m. shuttle. Over the years, I’ve grown used to things not going perfectly—like Ironman Korea in 2019 being canceled due to flooding, or crashing before Ironman Penticton in 2024, where the swim was also canceled. This race was no different.

Halfway to the start, our bus developed a coolant leak. We were told to evacuate—on the side of the road, in the rain. After about an hour stranded, the bus was repaired, and we made it to the start line just five minutes before the gun went off.

With a bang, we were off! I spent the first hour and a half following the dim glow of headlamps, which made the falling snow shimmer on the trail. The only sounds were the rhythmic thumping of footsteps and heavy breathing as we inhaled the cold mountain air—it felt like we were moving as one. As the morning light began to filter through the treetops, I caught my first glimpse of the dense, rain-soaked forest around us.

After descending the mountain pass to the turnaround point at a swinging bridge, we had to reverse course and climb straight back up the steep, muddy path. I had debated whether to bring hiking poles due to the added weight, but several experienced Canyons 100KM runners had recommended them. Thankfully, I took their advice. My poles allowed me to power hike (a fast-paced walk) efficiently uphill, saving my quads for the second half of the race. Many runners around me hadn’t brought poles and struggled with balance on the slick, unstable trail—I was grateful I came prepared.

Lesson: Always be prepared.  It's better to have something (in this case my set of hiking poles) and not use it, then need it and not have it.  Given my goal of completing the race, I considered whether the weight penalty of carrying my ultralight trekking poles would be worth it and they certainly were worth carrying.  

Course 

The Canyons 100KM Ultramarathon is considered highly challenging due to its demanding combination of elevation gain, technical terrain, and unpredictable weather conditions. Set in the mountains outside Auburn, California—a historic gold mining town from the Gold Rush era—the course features nearly 5,200 meters (17,000 feet) of descent and 4,000 meters (13,000 feet) of ascent.

Runners must navigate a mix of technical singletrack, fire roads, and sections littered with loose rocks and exposed roots, making footing tricky and requiring constant attention. To add to the challenge, race-day conditions can vary dramatically from year to year: the course may be wet, snowy, cold, muddy, or hot and dusty—making preparation especially difficult.

One unique aspect of the Canyons 100KM is that approximately 60–70% of the course overlaps with the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run—often called the Boston Marathon of ultrarunning—adding historical and emotional weight to the experience for many trail runners.

Success

At the Canyons 100km race, crossing the finish line earns you a beautifully crafted leather belt. But to complete it—with the official belt buckle—you need to conquer the full 100-mile course. Thankfully, I wasn’t quite crazy enough to sign up for that… at least not yet. For now, I’ll chalk this race up as a success and leave the 100-mile dream for another day.

Of course, this wasn’t just my success. I wouldn’t be able to take on these kinds of challenges or set such ambitious goals without the support of my friends, training partners, and most importantly, my family. Their encouragement keeps me grounded and inspired. My mother, sister, and brother-in-law waited for hours just to catch a fleeting glimpse of me as I shuffled through aid stations—grabbing food, drinks, and supplies in a blur. Their presence meant the world to me.

Also, thank you to the race organizers, volunteers, and spectators for a great race! 

Lesson: Success is rarely ever achieved without the support of others.

After returning to the mountain peak from the turnaround point, I found myself running alongside a pack of eight other competitors. We moved in lockstep across the rolling mountaintops, and the kilometers seemed to fly by. But before reaching the 50-kilometer mark, our group began to splinter—some surged ahead while others fell behind. I had now entered uncharted territory in terms of distance, and with that came a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. I was halfway done and still feeling relatively strong, but the fatigue was beginning to creep in.

To give myself a boost, I downed a few warm cups of chicken broth at the next aid station, popped in my headphones, and pushed on. For the next 20 kilometers, I ran alone through the forest. It was breathtakingly beautiful and deeply peaceful. I let my mind wander and found myself slipping into the zone. It wasn’t like any runner’s high I’d experienced before. Unlike a typical marathon, where the pace is quicker and the focus sharper, the slower rhythm of this ultramarathon gave me space to truly absorb my surroundings—the misty trees, the soft trail beneath my feet, the sounds of nature. It felt like meditation in motion.

Upon reaching the 70-kilometer mark, I ran into Scott (pictured above), one of the runners I’d been with earlier in the pack of eight. He had also been running solo for a while, so we decided to stick together and help keep each other moving forward. At this point in the race, I was beyond my longest-ever run distance, so having a companion made a world of difference in keeping my spirits and momentum up.

We focused on reaching each aid station by following a simple rhythm: power hike the steep ascents, jog the flats, and run the descents. The kilometers passed more easily as we shared stories—our hobbies, backgrounds, and how we each found our way into the world of ultrarunning. The true benefit of running together became clear when one of us hit a low; the other naturally took the lead and set the pace. When I started mentally checking out and just wanted to walk, having Scott slightly ahead of me helped me switch off my doubts and stay in motion.

We noticed many solo runners struggling at this point in the race. Once they slowed to a walk, it became harder for them to regain momentum. Scott and I made it a point to always maintain a purposeful stride—even when we were power hiking, we kept a steady shuffle to avoid slipping into a trudge.

Lesson: This isn't a new lesson, but a good reminder that shared pain is half the pain.  Find someone that is on a parallel journey and challenge each other to be better and to keep making progress.  

Scott and I ran together for nearly thirty kilometers. In the end, he had more left in the tank and pulled ahead during the final stretch. I, regrettably, skipped a final gel over the last eight kilometers and was running on the dregs of some sour gummies and lukewarm chicken broth (I know… not exactly peak endurance fuel). Still, I dug deep and pushed myself to keep moving as we entered the outskirts of Downtown Auburn.

I knew that if I could pick up the pace over the last two kilometers, I might just break the thirteen-hour mark. As I neared the city center, the sound of cheering spectators fueled a final surge of adrenaline. I pushed into what felt like a sprint—but likely resembled more of a slow jog—and rounded the last corner. There, I saw my family. I gave my brother a high five and crossed the finish line with a huge sense of relief.

I had done it. I’d completed a challenge I had set for myself over two years ago. I was thankful that I never gave up, that I kept faith in my ability to get to the finish—however long it took. It was a long journey, but ultimately, it just required one thing: slow, steady, forward progress.

Lesson: Don't underestimate the power of slow and forward progress.  No matter the distance or challenge, continually taking steps closer to the finish will always get you there.