Triple Crown: Jason Thienel
There is something powerful about a good film trilogy. Whether the theme is exploring the ideas of time travel or experiencing a saga from a long time ago, the power of three captivates our imagination and keeps us coming back to see what happens next. This year I completed the Ultra Marathon equivalent of the trilogy. Destination Trail Races puts on three 200+ mile races every year. Tahoe 200 in California and Nevada, Bigfoot 200 in Washington State, and Moab 240 in southern Utah. You have the option on UltraSignup to register for them individually or all three in the same year. Now why would someone want to go and do something like this? Six hundred forty (640!) miles of racing in one year? For me, there are a few reasons. The first and simplest is that if you sign up for the Triple Crown, you get to bypass the lotteries required to enter the races individually. The other reason is a little more complex.
I’ve been running and racing the Ultra Marathon distance for over a decade. In that time I have been virtually injury-free. Besides the occasional sprained ankle or skinned knees and palms nothing significant has kept me from running and racing. In 2009 before my ultra running days, I took a ground fall rock climbing and broke my left leg with enough intensity that I had to have surgery with screws and hardware installed. In the emergency room, I complained that my back was in terrible pain. I’m not sure exactly what happened, maybe they chalked it up to me laying on a backboard for hours during extraction and the ambulance ride. Or perhaps it was just overlooked, but they never inspected my back for injury and I was sent home to lie on the couch for 6 weeks of recovery with the characters from Mad Men and Parks and Rec as my only pals. Jump ahead to the Spring of 2021, where I am 60 miles into the Cocodona 250. I was positioned in the top 10 and felt great. Then I took a misstep and tripped in a hole. When I got up I made audible grunts because of an extreme pain coming from my back. I pushed through a long cold night with persisting pain and finally took the DNF when I reached my crew in the morning. When I returned home, my back was x-rayed and it revealed that all those years ago I had in fact broken my back. The next two years were filled with massive amounts of pain and failure–another major DNF, me canceling the morning of a three-day bike packing trip, inguinal hernia surgery, and me missing an attempt at a 200-mile OKT with my friend Jeff. I desperately needed a win.
I worked extremely hard to get myself healthy and fit again. Doubt and thoughts that I may have burned too many matches in my ultra career to pull off big efforts anymore were looming. Instead of letting these doubts and fears push me into despair, I signed up for the Triple Crown, putting all of my eggs in one basket so to speak.
Each of the three races is unique and has its own beauties and challenges. First up is the Tahoe 200, with buttery single-track trails and a crispness in the air that made me never want to go back to Tennessee. The challenge of Tahoe 200 is that the average elevation is around 8000 feet. I should say that it is a challenge when you live at 600 feet like I do. Because of my injuries, it had been a while since I had raced anything over 50 miles. I was reminded of this in the pre-race interview with a medic when she asked about my racing experience. I told her of Leadville 100 and a 200-mile race I made up in 2021 called the NoNo, and she said “Oh so, it’s been a while.” Not quite the vote of confidence I was looking for. I gave myself a loose time goal and set off into the hills. This year, the route consisted of two huge out and backs because of fire closures. Everything went well in the first section, except that in my time off, not only did the calluses on my feet get soft, but so did the ones on my mind. I kept looking for reasons to quit. I forgot the adage that you just have to be “out” in these races and time does not move quickly. I had a bout with altitude sickness at the 60-mile aid station and spent way too much time there trying to recover. My crew, which consisted of my wife and mother-in-law, finally kicked me out after giving me the perfect encouragement speech.
Usually after the first night of a long race, I start to hallucinate by hearing things, particularly near running water or if the wind is blowing. In this race, I saw my most vivid hallucination ever. As I rounded a corner the second night, the forest in front of me was illuminated with red feeling a lot like the UFO crash sites in movies from my childhood. As I got closer I saw the devil with a broom sweeping up the trail. He turned and looked at me to reveal that he was the combination of the classic red-horned devil and Groundskeeper Willy from the Simpsons. The look on his face was utter disgust, and my allegory for the hallucination became that he was in turmoil because he was resolved to do such a meaningless task in a beautiful place. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief and just as quickly as he appeared his image dissolved into nothingness. It turns out there was a runner on the course that I caught up to who was using the red light feature on his headlamp to save his night vision. My tired mind created a haunting albeit comical phantom that will forever stick with me.
Tahoe 200 became an extremely meaningful finish for me. My comeback year was well on its way, and all of my doubts from my time on the couch were starting to fade.
After a couple of weeks of rest and a couple more weeks of training, it was time for Bigfoot 200. This would be my second time toeing the line here, and I was looking forward to beating my time from my first finish in 2018. On the way to the airport, I got an email stating that there was a forest fire, and the course would have to change. Another out and back. My only doubt going into this race was perhaps overconfidence. I felt strong and ready. The course has similar terrain to my home mountains of The Smokies and Frozen Head State Park, and I felt like I was on home turf. My overconfidence turned out to be positive and I set a personal record for the 200-mile distance.
After mountains, I consider the desert one of my favorite places to recreate. However, I do not like running in the desert. This brings us to Moab 240. Not only is it in the desert but it is also 40 more miles than I have ever run before. By now I had enough momentum from finishing the other two races that nothing would stop me from getting the third and final buckle. Temperatures soared this year into the mid and high 90s during the day. The first hundred miles proved incredibly challenging, and I spent much of the daylight hours in a bad mood. As I entered the La Sal Mountains the temperatures cooled down and I started to get a little giddy on the climbs. Shuffling through washes in full sun exposure with no relief in sight is not my idea of fun.
By the last 20 miles I was cooked. I had planned to run the last 20 miles hard as it is relatively flat and easy. I pushed as hard as I could, but by the end, I was pretty much hobbling. I rounded the corner to the finish and all I could muster was a jog. My crew brought me champagne to celebrate, and I was elated to be finished. I visualize the finish line quite a lot in my training. It’s always different than I picture, you expect this huge grandiose display of emotion especially with the longer distances. For me, with the 200+ mile distance, it seems to take some time to process.
In 640 miles and 250 hours of my life I learned quite a lot about myself and a little about ultra running. My biggest take away from the year was learned in the late miles of Tahoe 200 and developed through the rest of the year. I passed a runner very late in the race and she asked what mileage my watch said. It read 214 with at least 3 miles to go. The race is supposed to be 200. She almost bargained with me saying, “We should be there by now.” No matter how close a volunteer says you are or what your watch says or what your memory says, to finish you have to get your body across the finish line. Without knowing it, this would also be the theme from my time on the couch and getting my fitness back.
The thing about trilogies is that these days the number three doesn’t quite conclude the original story like it used to. There are times when this is a positive thing, and times when everyone just wants it to stop. Next year Destination Trail races will add a 300-mile distance with the Arizona Monster. For now, I am content with my Ultra Marathon Trilogy. I am celebrating the pursuit of pushing up against boundaries. My gamble on myself worked and there will be many more big efforts to come, but this trilogy is complete.
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