A Glimpse of Heaven… a Taste of Hell

I don’t think I’d ever truly experienced the runner’s high until last weekend, 27 miles into my 34 mile ultramarathon race in Lake Tahoe. I was flying down the singletrack trail, literally dancing to my music, completely in awe at the views of the lake. But it wasn’t the music, or the views, that were the real reason why I was so elated. It was because I never thought I’d make it to that moment.

One day I’ll be able to laugh at the series of events that transpired the 48 hours before my race. Two days before the race, I left work early because I felt certain I was getting sick. I forced myself to relax all evening, and by Friday morning, the day before the race, I actually felt a lot better. That lasted for about an hour. Then, in an attempt to clear out wax that was clogging one of my ears, I let water run in my ear, then tilted my head to get the water out. Except the water wasn’t coming out. I took matters into my own hands, and started violently head banging to the side to get the water out. It finally worked!  And then I realized that I had pulled a muscle in my back. As if it couldn’t get any worse, as we were packing up the car, a bird pooped on my back.

I iced my back all day, but it didn’t make a difference. The morning of the race, just walking around to pick up my race bib, my back was in pain. Mentally, I was hurting too. I thought back to all the time I had spent training for the race. I’d sacrificed almost every Saturday morning for the last five months to do long runs with names like “The Beautiful Butt Kicker” and “Waterman Gap Super Loop.” I’d dodged snakes, trudged through the mud, lost my car key in the woods, and got poison oak all over my legs. I’d done my longest run in 100 degree weather, during which I'd ran out of water at one point. It was devastating to think that after all the work I put in, I might not be able to finish the race. But I also wanted to be realistic, and just try to enjoy whatever experience I had. So at the start of the race, I removed all expectations of finishing, and simply told myself to put one foot in front of the other until it hurt too much to do so.

At the starting line, excited for what was to come

The race’s motto is “A Glimpse of Heaven…a Taste of Hell” and that could not be more spot on. The average elevation is 8,000 feet and the course features two major climbs. The first climb wasn’t so bad. My back was hurting, but every step I took, when my hydration pack hit my back and caused more pain, I told myself I was getting a massage and that it was actually a good thing. By the second aid station at mile 12, I was still feeling fresh. Then came the infamous Red House Loop. We descended for what felt like forever. At the three stream crossings at the bottom of the loop, I literally crawled on my hands and knees across the rocks because I knew if I fell and twisted an ankle or messed up my back more, it would be the end of the race for me. The climb back out was one of the toughest parts of the course. I gritted my teeth and hiked on, but it was pretty demoralizing. Plus, my stomach was not super happy (eating 1,800 calories of gels and chews can do that to you). As I was deep in the pain cave, I looked up and saw Owen bounding down the trail! He had hiked out to the nearby aid station and came to find me. It could not have been better timing. We finished the climb together, and he helped me get everything I needed at the next aid station.

Full bar at the first aid station

That guy sure got a taste of hell!

Near the end of the climb out of Red House Loop

One of my favorite moments of the race was coming into the aid station at mile 27. It was manned by a Boy Scout troop, and this young scout came bouncing down the trail, greeted me with a huge smile and said “Hi Breann! How are you doing?” I almost broke down in tears because it was so thoughtful. The scouts were all so eager to help me, filling up my hydration pack, getting me the gels I needed, and filling my bandanna with ice. It was the turning point of the race for me. My stomach pain went away, I told myself that I’d get to the finish line even if I had to crawl, and I just flew.

A glimpse of heaven 

My fastest mile of the whole race was the very last mile. Nine and a half hours after I started, I crossed the finish line. I wanted to cry, smile, and lay down all at the same time.   

I FREAKING DID IT!

After the race, it started thundering and raining as Owen and I enjoyed beer and burritos under the comfort of a tent. I'm so lucky I finished when I did- I think I would have had a mild freak out if I was still out on the course in those conditions. I also got a massage at the station set up right at the finish line. I seriously owe it to the two ladies that massaged me: they scrubbed all the dirt off my blackened feet and legs before letting me on the table. They are champs!  

There are some more thanks in order, first to Owen. He cooked dinner almost every night for months, planned our lives around my Saturday long runs, prepared my Epsom salt foot baths, and when I asked him if he thought I’d be able to finish the race with a bad back, he didn’t hesitate for a second when he said I could do it. He ended up hiking around 8 miles on race day to see me at the aid station, in the heat with little water and no food. He actually got more blisters than I did!  Without his support, I’m not sure I would have finished. Lastly, thanks to everyone else who helped me during training, even if you just asked how it was going or listened to me complain. I truly believe that behind every ultramarathon finisher is a supportive team of family and friends. 

Since the race, I’ve been eating a lot of pizza and getting on a first name basis with our couch. I got a "recovery" massage a couple days ago, which was probably just as painful as the race itself, but instead of the pain spread out over 9 hours, it was compressed into 60 minutes. I know it's helpful though: my back is feeling better, plus Owen and I leave for our motorcycle trip to Alaska in just four days! I won’t be posting from the road, but you can look forward to hearing our stories afterwards. Wish us luck!

A New Kind of "Car" Camping

Imagine this: you’ve been driving all day long, and the sun is setting. You’re covered head to toe in sunscreen, sweat, and dirt. You just find out that the fire you’ve been watching burn on the horizon has shut down the highway, the very last leg of your trip. Do you set up your tent next to an irrigation ditch and wait it out, or do you push on?

We pushed on.

Let me be clear, we did not push on into the fire, rather we found an alternative route, a backwoods road that wound through grassy valleys, deep into the heart of farm country, that we hoped would spit us out closer to home. 

Owen and I were traveling home from a motorcycle camping trip in the eastern Sierras in early July. We did little planning ahead of time: I had the name and sketchy directions to a remote hot spring and we knew we wanted to see Mono Lake, but that was about it. We ran into some challenges but overall, things worked themselves out. For example, we hit temps in the 90s and a ton of traffic coming into Yosemite National Park, but that forced us to take a long break at Tenaya Lake to eat lunch and cool off. We didn’t actually know how to get to Mono Lake, but that made us to stop at a visitor’s center where we got beta on the best place to see the lake’s famous tufa formations and were told where we could dispersed camp in the nearby national forest.

Tenaya Lake, Yosemite 

Tufa formations at Mono Lake

The next morning, we went in search of Wild Willy’s hot springs. Until we laid eyes on a body of water, I was not convinced we were going to find it. We were driving down a random dirt road in BLM land, across cow gates and through open grassland. There was not a single sign for Wild Willy’s, but its mystery made me love it even more. It also meant we had the place to ourselves when we finally found it. Later that day, we cooled off at the lakes near the town of Mammoth Lakes, and it felt like an adult summer camp. The view was incredible, and there were dogs everywhere we turned. I was seriously tempted to call in sick to work on Monday and stay out there an extra day.

En route to the hot springs

We found Wild Willy's!

Horseshoe Lake

But, like the responsible adults that we are, we rolled on. That’s when all hell broke loose, and we found out the highway had closed because of a brush fire. Sunday evening traffic in the Bay Area is bad enough without a closed highway, and the roadways immediately clogged up. No one knew where to go and people were driving like lunatics. I seriously did consider napping on the side of the road, because we had been riding on the motorcycle for over eight hours, and the seat felt like slab of concrete at that point. We took a chance on the wild country road, and although we hit soul-sucking levels of traffic, our route worked. It was an extreme test of our will, endurance, and iron butts, but I know it’s all good training for our motorcycle trip to Alaska next month.

Back in May, over Memorial Day Weekend, we also went on a motorcycle camping trip. The plan was to drive six hours to see a waterfall in northern California that I’d spotted on the cover of a Backpacker magazine. I realized that there was a good chance we'd be disappointed. I’ve had the good fortune of seeing some incredible waterfalls in my life, so I am hard to please. We had all intentions of planning out the details, but we had trouble finding much information about the area: exactly where the waterfall was, and where we could camp nearby. We were also a little anxious because in California, holiday weekends usually mean everyone and their mother comes out of the woodwork to go camping and hiking. We decided to take a chance though, and told ourselves that at a minimum, it would be a good opportunity to get more practice on the bike and to test out our gear.

Things got off to a good start: we found a great place to dispersed camp in Shasta-Trinity National Forest, with Mt. Shasta looming above us. The next morning, we easily found the trailhead for the McCloud River Falls Trail, and saw not one, but three waterfalls, with the trails nearly all to ourselves. After glancing at another map, Owen realized we weren’t far from Lassen National Park, so we made the impromptu decision to head there for the night. En route, we stopped at McArthur-Burney Falls Memorial State Park, which was swarming with people but so worth it. We also happened upon a random cave, formed from lava flow from a volcanic eruption thousands of years ago. I could not believe our luck. I assumed I'd see one waterfall on this trip, but instead got four waterfalls and a cave. 

Searching for the perfect campsite in Shasta-Trinity National Forest

Mt Shasta loomed overhead

So many waterfalls! McCloud Falls...

...Lower McCloud Falls

... and the grand finale, McArthur-Burney Falls

One thing I love about riding the motorcycle is that it’s totally immersive. We experience the sights, smells, sounds, and temperatures of the landscapes we’re traveling through, which you don't always get when you're in a car. The morning of Memorial Day we drove through Lassen National Park, where the temperature dipped down to 40-some degrees and there was still enough snow to go snowboarding and skiing. By lunchtime, it was nearly 100 degrees outside of Chico. I've never shed layers faster! We took shelter at Sierra Nevada Brewing Company, which was not a bad place to be stuck at while we cooled off. Owen has some experience riding a motorcycle in the heat (he made the mistake of riding through Death Valley in the summer a couple years ago), so he knew the trick to staying cool in our full gear. We soaked our heads, shirts, and bandannas at every rest station we passed on the ride home. It still felt like we were being spun in a dryer with the heat on full blast, but we did make it home in one piece.

Seeing geothermal features in the snow at Lassen National Park made me completely lose it- I couldn't stop taking photos

More snow at Lassen National Park. Not exactly what we expected for Memorial Day Weekend

Our motorcycle camping trip in early May to Big Sur was when I first discovered the joys of dispersed camping on the motorcycle in public land. We've done plenty of dispersed camping with the car, but there is something totally epic about riding the bike off road, directly into our campsite. We encountered water crossings, steep climbs, and dense fog, but all in all, but the trip was fairly mellow compared to some of our others. There was no fire, snow, or sweltering temperatures so you could say we got off easy.

Bixby Bridge, Big Sur

Los Padres National Forest, Big Sur

As you've probably gathered by now, we've become somewhat obsessed with motorcycle camping recently. But there are a couple other things we've been up to recently that I'm also excited about. I finally swam in the Pacific Ocean, we are on a Jurassic Park kick, and we've even managed to fit in some wedding planning. We have a couple more adventures coming up- stay tuned!

Early morning ride on Highway 1

The Start of a New Story

The book Wild, about a woman solo hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, is kind of my bible. So when I heard its author, Cheryl Strayed, give writing advice on a podcast recently, I gobbled up her every word. Believe it or not, her secret to getting uninterrupted quiet time to write is to literally check herself into a hotel down the street from her home and family. It made me feel less bad about my struggles to write blog posts, and how I have the best intentions to write every couple weeks but it always turns into every couple months. Now that that’s off my chest, on to the fun stuff: Owen and I are engaged!!

Many of you have already heard the story, but I’m going to tell it again anyway, because this kind of stuff only happens once. Back in March, Owen had been away at National Guard training for a couple weeks, and the mountains in California were getting hammered with snow. We planned a trip to go cross-country skiing as soon as he got back. Owen was chomping at the bit to go, but I didn’t suspect a thing. I was just happy he was as enthusiastic about the trip as I was. Last minute, he found out he had to work that Sunday, so I figured it would just be a quick, casual trip. I was expecting Owen to propose on this trip about as much as I was expecting him to break up with me, which is to say, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind for a second.

Celebrating at every overlook we drove by 

The fact that I wasn’t expecting it made the moment that much sweeter when, in the middle of our cross-country ski trek in Yosemite National Park, alone in a quiet meadow next to a frozen creek, Owen dropped down on one knee. As if on cue, snowflakes started falling from the sky. After I said yes, I think we were both kind of in shock, and it took us a couple seconds to realize I couldn’t put the ring on until I took my glove off (duh!). We made it back in time for Owen to go to work on Sunday, and I took it upon myself that day to take a mini photo shoot of the ring on my trail run in a nearby state park.

Our meadow

The past couple months, we’ve slowly started preparing for our motorcycle trip to Alaska this summer. Back in February, we went motorcycle camping in Death Valley National Park. If I’m being honest, the trip kind of kicked our asses. The ride down alone was an exercise in extreme mental and physical fortitude: nothing can really prepare you for sitting on a motorcycle, in the elements, for ten plus hours.

The approach to Death Valley

We were also in Death Valley almost a year ago, and we heard about this infamous place called the Racetrack which lay some 30 miles from the nearest paved road, and requires a high clearance vehicle, good tires, and “extreme caution” to reach. Our little Toyota Yaris didn’t quite fit the bill, and back then, Owen’s adventure motorcycle was still just a dream. Fast forward to now: we had the motorcycle, crash bars, and safety gear, and thus we had no excuse not to try it out! Ice cream and joshua trees powered us through the ride, and though it got pretty hairy at times, we made it there and back in one piece. The Racetrack is a dried up lake bed in the shape of a racetrack, complete with a “grandstand” of rocks in the center, and it did not disappoint. It’s hard for me to describe the landscape out there, because it felt otherworldly. Closest thing I can compare it to is probably the moon.  

Nothing beats dessert in the middle of the desert

The Racetrack

Death Valley can be a brutal place, and this trip was no exception. That night, a wind storm whipped through our campground, saturating sand into our tent, sleeping bags, essentially every crevice it could find. The wind persisted into the next morning, and temperatures hovered around freezing during our drive out of the park.  It’s worth noting that when we were in the park almost exactly a year ago, temperatures hit triple digits. Go figure. We hunkered down in a gas station for the better part of an hour, warming up, until we realized we couldn’t put off the inevitable forever. After a full day of driving in one of the only cold snaps that California experienced this year, we finally made it home and I promptly took the longest, hottest shower of my life.

It's hard to tell, but that's me!

Don’t get the wrong impression- we actually did enjoy ourselves, perhaps more than we have in a long time. For example, the night we arrived at the park, freezing cold and tired as hell after a full day of riding, I remember looking up at the night sky, freckled with stars, and a sense of peace washed over me. That same night, a group of nine people made room in their campsite for us because there were no open sites left at the campground. Maybe it was just coincidence, but it seemed like people went out of their way to help us because we were on a motorcycle. Maybe because they could tell we were more vulnerable, more exhausted, more reliant on the kindness of others. We got motivational pep talks about making it out to the Racetrack, offers of cold beverages, and when we arrived at yet another full campground, this time we didn’t even have to ask to share a site; someone approached us. One of my favorite parts of the trip was on the drive home. At one point, I looked to my left at a desert landscape dotted with joshua trees, then looked off to my right at the snow covered foothills of the Sierras. Riding at the confluence of those two, magical, wildly different landscapes was a treat I won’t forget any time soon.

Other than the Death Valley trip, between Owen banking lots of overtime and weekend work at his new job, and me training for a race and moonlighting at the running store every now and then, there hasn’t been much time for full blown adventures. Enter the concept of the microadventure. Introduced by Alastair Humphreys, it’s basically a small-scale, local adventure, and could be as simple as camping in your own backyard. A sampling of microadventures I’ve been on over the past couple months: a rock climbing class in a nearby state park, camping with a coworker on a Wednesday night, running up one of the highest peaks in the nearby Santa Cruz mountains, and mountain biking with a friend after work. It’s because of these microadventures that I stay sane at my desk job!

Sneaking in a post-work trail run before the sun sets

A day trip north of San Francisco, to the Marin Headlands

Marin Headlands

I returned to the motherland a.k.a New Jersey back in April for a short trip, and besides ticking off the usual eating checklist (thin crust pizza, a pork roll, egg, and cheese sandwich, and BAGELS), I attended my grandma’s 90th birthday party! It was all I could do not to cry tears of joy as I saw all her friends, from various walks of life, all together in one place, which she told me had never happened before.

90 years young

I also had to hold back tears at a recent work conference I attended. At River Rally, held in Lake Tahoe, I heard story after story of why people have made it their life’s work to protect America’s waterways and environment. One of my favorite stories is about a military veteran who struggled with PTSD, found solace on the river, and eventually started a non-profit organization that connects other veterans and at-risk youth on guided fly fishing trips. The conference was just last week, but Lake Tahoe did not get the memo that it’s spring. That meant I went for a run in the snow, my first and only run in the snow this season. I’m not complaining though: snow makes those mountains come alive.

Exploring in between seminars

The past couple weeks of being engaged have been pretty surreal. After dating for almost eight years, I still can’t believe we’re finally engaged. I kept a journal when Owen and I first started dating, and found a couple gem quotes.

From one of our first dates: “So basically, I still like Owen after today. Where do I go from here?”

My early thoughts on marriage: “It’s like, a shifty business talking about weddings.” Then a couple months later: “We were joking about it [getting married] and how our parents would kill us.”  We’ve come so far!

And lastly, I was writing about all the amazing qualities of Owen: “He loves running with me.” He kept up that act for a solid six months before the truth came out. Hey, nobody’s perfect :)

Winter Out West

It’s been awhile since I last posted, and I’m totally blaming this on Owen. It’s hard for me to hunker down and write when he’s home, and with him being in full-on job search mode the past few months, he’s been home... a lot. I finally had time this week to churn it out though, because Owen went on a motorcycle camping trip to Big Sur to celebrate…his new job! He starts working at Nio, an autonomous car company, at the San Jose office next week! So, what have we been up to the past couple months?  

Owen's setup in Los Padres National Forest

View of Big Sur from the fire roads in Los Padres

A long, long time ago (aka November) Owen and I went to Pinnacles National Park. It’s the newest national park, just a couple hours south of us, and has these sweet caves you can hike through. We explored them during the day, then went back for seconds and checked them out at night. 

The caves at Pinnacles National Park

Someone's pumped to go spelunking

For the long Thanksgiving weekend, we were originally planning on backpacking on the northern CA coast with our friends Dusty and Brian. In the interest of staying alive (think impassable trails at high tide, sneaker waves, and swollen creeks) we headed south instead, to Joshua Tree National Park. We spent a wild three nights there, exploring a desert oasis, climbing the jumbo rocks, testing out Brian’s new truck off-roading, and shooting guns in BLM land. We even got Thanksgiving leftovers from a couple camping near us! We also got kicked out of our campsite one night…we shared a site with someone because the campground was full, then he went rogue the next day for an unidentified reason and kicked us to the curb.

Joshua trees and jumbo rocks

Owen top roping at Joshua Tree

Back in December, Owen and I went on what I like to call a microadventure: motorcycle camping on a week night. There’s something about sleeping outside, then going to work the next morning, that makes me feel like I’m getting away with something. After my baby wipe bath and ample body spray, my coworkers had no idea I’d been camping the night before.

The bike was loaded down with our camping stuff

December was a good month: Owen and I got to spend one glorious day with Madeline! She visited with her boyfriend Evan, and we joined up with Will, another college friend. The five of us went on a whirlwind tour of the Bay Area in one day: we got lunch in the Santa Cruz mountains, hiked amongst redwood trees, watched the sunset over the ocean, and capped it off with extreme gluttony- bread bowls then Ghirardelli sundaes in San Francisco. Needless to say, Owen and I were not hungry until after lunchtime the next day. 

Butano State Park. Photo cred- Madeline

I almost never run short races, because clearly I like being in pain, but recently I ran an 8K up in Marin County north of San Francisco. For a race that short, it packed in some of the most epic scenery I’ve experienced in a trail race. I also ran a 5K “prediction run” which means we predicted our finishing time before the race, and the runner that finished closest to their prediction won (no watches allowed). I was way off my predicted time, but I finished second in the race!

Rodeo Beach Trail Run

We returned to the motherland (what I fondly call NJ) for Christmas. We were eager to experience true winter weather and we got it: the temperature hovered around 15 degrees. I had to wear two pairs of pants to hike outside. Two! We had some much-needed friends and family time and finally got to meet Owen’s nephew, Antonio, who just turned one.

Dressed up as a greaser and "bad Sandy" for a 50s themed NYE party

Braving the cold with Kelli and Mom in New Hope, PA

For MLK weekend in January, we planned an impromptu trip up to Crater Lake National Park in Oregon. Lucky for us, our friend Evan lives not too far from the park so we had a place to crash and a host. Even with last minute notice, he got us El Salvadorean food one night and took us to a game night. Crater Lake was so beautiful that you could literally just “point and shoot” and all the photos came out amazing. During our hike along the lake’s rim, we tried glissading (sliding down the snow on our butts) and even used our hiking poles as makeshift ice axes to self-arrest as needed. Luckily, we never needed to put it to the test: we were able to stop before smashing into the trees at the bottom. 

Crater Lake was incredible

Owen in post-glissading bliss

Last weekend, we went to Yosemite National Park to celebrate my birthday. As Madeline kindly reminded me, I am now closer to 30 than 20. Yikes! I wanted to see the park in the winter, blanketed with snow, but the Sierras had been seriously lacking in snowfall so I wasn't sure what to expect. We lucked out and found snow: we hiked out to a snowy sequoia grove. Mission accomplished! We also spent a good bit of time searching for fireplaces and falling asleep in front of them. It was the perfect birthday weekend.  

Hiking underneath a sequoia tree

Tuolumne Sequoia Grove at Yosemite

We found a fireplace you could sit inside!

I celebrated my one-year anniversary at San Mateo County recently. Work is going well- I'm going to be working on a watershed restoration project, which will hopefully allow me to get out in the field a bit more. I did a site visit a couple weeks ago with an engineering geologist who was drilling some super deep soil cores, and he insisted on getting a photo of me pretending to operate the drill.

Don't worry- I'm just pretending to operate this drill

 

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I'm excited for the coming months and for the days to get longer. If you call us and our phones are off, it means one thing: we are out in our playground in the woods, running or riding down some dirt road, chasing the next view.