Broken Arrow Skyrace VK & 23K
Surviving the VK, taking second at the 23K, and seeing sandhill cranes in Tahoe
Several months ago, I put the Broken Arrow Skyrace VK on my calendar for June.
Held at Palisades Tahoe in Olympic Valley, twenty minutes from Lake Tahoe, Broken Arrow is a three-day trail running festival with eight distances, three of which are particularly competitive: the VK, 46K, and the 23K (the distances change a little each year based on snow melt.)
After running the Triple Crown (VK, 52K, 26K) in 2022 and the VK in 2023, I was ready to come back and see if I could improve upon my own time. The field has only become more competitive each year across all three distances, especially as the VK and 23K doubles as the Valsir Mountain Running World Cup. The 23K is also part of the Golden Trail National Series.
All this to say: these races were stacked.
After a few stressful days of figuring out our pet sitting and dog boarding arrangements (our regular pet sitter had shoulder surgery; you’re the best, Rhonda! Heal up fast!), we packed up the car and started our drive out to Lake Tahoe. The Broken Arrow races have become very popular, largely thanks to what the race directors have done to create a fun, engaging experience for racers and spectators alike across three days. To avoid the potential stress of race day, Nick and I picked up our bibs that day. Nick had gotten off the waitlist for the 46K about a week before, so we were covering races across Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
Training continues to go well, and I’ve recently been able to hit paces I’ve never run before, both on flat ground and on climbs. That gave me a fair amount of confidence going into the VK, tempered, of course, by the depth of the field. It’s one thing to feel good about your fitness and another to know that you’re racing against NCAA all-stars, collegiate standouts, and Olympic trails qualifiers.
Broken Arrow VK
The VK started at 9:30 am on a very steep grassy slope, cross-country style. My goal for the start was to get out faster than I’ve previously done, and that certainly happened. Despite getting stabbed with a pole (poles are also allowed at this race, which is fairly dangerous considering the degree of the slope and the mass of runners), I found myself in third behind trail phenom Joyce Muthoni Njeru of Kenya and 1500m track superstar Anna Gibson. I wasn’t intimidated, mostly because I was redlining and in too much pain to second guess anything but heading to the summit 3,000 feet above me.
While I could power hike fast up the steeper sections, my legs just weren’t turning over on the more runnable sections and within a mile I found myself dropping back from third to fourth to fifth. Even on sections that I had felt strong and confident in during previous years, I could barely jog this year and by the time I climbed Stairway to Heaven, I was in 9th.
I won’t lie: I was disappointed. I don’t often feel strongly attached to the outcome of a race, good or bad, but this one hurt. My fitness was there, I’d worked so hard on my climbing strength, and yet I felt…flat. When it was time to give, I had nothing to give, and I’d watched the other runners surge ahead on climbs I normally love to work through.
By the time I was on the tram back down to the bottom of the mountain and the race venue, I was doubtful that I should even start the 23K. If the VK hurt that bad, then how would I fare at an even longer distance and more time at altitude?
Luckily there wasn’t much time to be down because we had Nick’s graduation to celebrate! Nick officially graduated with his MS in Sports Performance and Psychology that afternoon and we celebrated by going to a plant shop (our favorite, second only to good food co-ops and equally good bookstores) and enjoying time at Donner Lake with Cashew.
On Saturday, we switched roles as Nick raced the 46K! I’ll link to Nick’s race recap in a future post, but suffice to say I’m really proud of him for continuing to really step out of his comfort zone and race shorter, faster races this year.
We were all fried after Saturday’s run thanks to temperatures in the high 80s, so we spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing back at our Airbnb reading and completing a puzzle. That evening while reading on the couch, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye—something big and brown. A deer? Instead of four legs, though, I saw two, so I pulled myself away from my book and took a few steps closer to the window. They were sandhill cranes, with a baby!
I’ve seen these majestic birds a few times: at the Reifel Bird Sanctuary in Richmond, British Columbia and in the barren desert of the Salton Sea, but seeing them here in Truckee was particularly special. After years of hunting, by 1944 only a few nesting pairs were estimated in all of California. Up until the last decade, none at all were seen in in the Lake Tahoe/Truckee area. In recent years that’s changed, and we were lucky to see one of these pairs by sheer luck this weekend.
Broken Arrow 23K
On Sunday morning, I woke up early and immediately felt calmer than I had the last two days. I was racing, sure, but it was also just another training day and later that afternoon we’d be driving back home, and then it was on to other parts of life. My coach, Megan, had texted me earlier that morning and told me that today would be a great way to practice my race fierceness and to do the race for me. I tucked that thought away.
As I readied my nutrition, Nick suggested I use a mantra. I wasn’t keen on the idea, but heard him out. “Tell yourself I am beautiful, I am amazing, I am gorgeous, I am strong.”
I didn’t think much beyond that it was kind of him to say, and went back to readying myself for the race.
At the start line, RD Brendan specifically pulled all of the elite women to the front of the race, which was great to see and experience (albeit a little nerve-wracking). Just before 8 a.m., the 10 second countdown was on and immediately I was being swarmed by some very, very fast men and women on either side. I knew that a strong race meant not letting myself get stuck behind a long line of other runners, especially once the road, then the path, turned to single track. I found myself in maybe 8th or 9th place at that point. By mile two, Joyce and Tabor Hemming were long since gone, and I could just barely see Dani Moreno and Allie McLaughlin running maybe a minute or two ahead.
As we started climbing, I passed two women and a couple men. I could still feel the altitude today and my breathing was heavier than it would otherwise be for the pace I was moving, but I was feeling better than Friday. That gave me confidence to push a bit harder to see if I could close the gap on Dani and Allie.
After the first mile or two of climbing, the single track suddenly descends and in that section I heard Rachel Tomajczyk come flying down the trail behind me. We exchanged a few words (I’m always rooting for Rachel especially) and I watched her take off. Seeing Rachel tear down the trail was all it took to remind me that I needed to take advantage of the descents during this race, too, and I pushed harder to match her pace.
Every time my breathing started to feel out of control and my calves started seizing, I repeated the mantra Nick had given me earlier that morning, only with a few changes that I made as I went. “I am strong, I am brave, I am courageous, I am kind,” I repeated over and over. Anytime my mind strayed from pushing as hard as I could or I started to wallow in the self doubt of whether or not I’d be passed, I repeated the mantra and kept pushing.
As the trail wound up again, even steeper this time, I passed Rachel and was now in 5th place. I was closing on Dani and Allie, and the steeper the trail got, the more that distance was shrinking. As we turned from single track onto the three steep climbs of Snow King Road, I watched Allie pass Dani, and my distance from Dani lessen again. On the third of the three climbs, I passed Dani and kept going, eager to put as much space as possible on her as I could. I knew Dani was a strong downhill runner, and with a sharp descent and rolling hills ahead, I had to do what I could.
Since the 23K hooks onto the top of the VK course, I was now running on the same course I had for the VK—only faster. For instance, I covered one half mile section with 514 feet of elevation gain in 10 minutes, 55 seconds during Friday’s VK. During Sunday’s 23K, I covered this same section in 10 minutes, 20 seconds—just to put in perspective how much better I felt during Sunday’s race!
As we crested K2, Allie was no more than thirty seconds ahead and on the infamous Stairway to Heaven, we were separated by just one male runner. I readied myself for the downhill, believing I’d done everything I could to stave off some of the women from catching me. I needed to buffer as much time as I could on the uphill, or so I thought.
After an initial technical descent, the course screams onto fireroad and I pushed this section hard, running a 5:35 mile, which was good enough to catch up to and then pass Allie, putting me in third place. There wasn’t time to think about whether or not this was a bad choice—should I have been more strategic about when I passed? Would she catch me on the final climb up Shirley Canyon?—I just had to keep going.
I took advantage of every flatter section to keep the pace going, and when the grade coming out of Shirley got too steep, I changed from a run to as strong of a hike as I could muster. I had eaten a 90g Precision gel on the way up K2 and had saved a 30g gel with caffeine for this section precisely, hoping it might provide some pep for the final miles.
As I hiked and choked down gel with my heart rate high, I caught a glimpse of Tabor a switchback or two ahead. She had glanced over at me, and was certainly running scared, but so was I. I had caught a glimpse of Allie below me and she was charging hard. I vowed not to look back again and just focus on catching up to second place.
As I crested Shirley Canyon and ran through the final aid station, one of the volunteers yelled out that I was about a minute back from Tabor and 3 minutes, 45 seconds back from Joyce. I had zero thoughts about making up time on Joyce—as far as I was concerned, she was in an entirely different category (she won Friday’s VK by two minutes!). But maybe I could catch up to Tabor, if only to have someone to latch onto as a way of giving me more distance from Allie and Dani. For all I knew, they were going to try and overtake me in the final mile so I had to do what I could to avoid getting passed right at the end.
I’d run the 23K course in 2022, so knew that the final singletrack section was quite technical. But my mind was so focused on moving as fast and as efficiently as I could that I simply wasn’t thinking about falling. I just trusted my body and moved.
As the singletrack descended into switchbacks, I passed Tabor, now moving into second. I checked my watch: mile 12.1, leaving me with a little over 2 miles to go. I could hold on to this effort—just barely, but I could do it.
As the single track made a sudden left turn onto fireroad, I opened up my stride and gunned it down the hill, convinced that any of the fast women behind me would appear. I was running a 5:16 minute/mile but all I could think about was holding onto this position. I couldn’t let up until I crossed that finish line.
My whole body felt like it was humming. As I entered the wide stretch of road, spectators lining each side, I could hear the announcer. “…doubling back from the VK…” and realized they were talking about Joyce. I’d expected this announcement to have happened minutes ago, not now!
I didn’t let up until I rang that bell, finishing in second place. Somehow I’d made up several minutes on Joyce in the final 3.5 miles of the race, and finished 37 seconds behind her in 2:12:29.
We cheered on Tabor just a minute after that, then Allie and Dani. What a field!
Almost immediately after finishing, I was told I’d been selected for the drug test. There’s not much to say about that except that I had to drink a lot of water in order to feel like I had to pee bad enough to urinate in front of a stranger.
I’m walking away from this weekend with several lessons that I’m hoping to take into my future training and racing:
If possible, train and live at altitude if I’m racing at altitude. As someone who naturally fares quite poorly at altitude, this matters even more. That said, if I can’t train and live at altitude, then rely on the fitness I’ve built.
Every race is a training day for something else. The VK ended up being a great training stimulus for the 23K, even if the VK was not a great race for me.
Don’t count myself out because of one bad day. That one bad day can be the catalyst I need to have my best day.
Lean into mantras when pain or doubt encroaches, but make it a mantra that has personal meaning and significance to me. It was important that I emphasized courage and bravery for stepping up to a competitive race like this, and I needed that reiterated in my mantra.
Shift my narrative. I’ve held onto the story that I’m just not a great downhill runner for years and even as I’ve improved, I’ve believed so fully in that narrative. This race has shown me that it’s time to let go of that belief. I ran a 6:27 average from the top of High Point to the finish, and most of that’s on very technical terrain. I can run fast downhill!
I’m not sure exactly what’s next, but I’m excited to continue learning more from these shorter distance events. With that in mind, my summer plans might be changing!
Your time is amazing! Congrats
What a great write up, I can't believe how fast you were moving. And so close to Joyce! Congrats!