![]() With only a few hours to prepare for my journey across the Santa Monica Backbone Trail (SMBBT), I narrowed down my preparation to the essentials. After my initial shock of the cancellation I had an idea, why couldn’t I just tackle the SMBBT tomorrow? Furthermore, my parents were planning on coming down to crew for me as well. Even though I didn’t have to travel for the race, I tapered my training for the race and was walking on eager legs. I was irritated because I was ready to go. Then, one day before Toughest Mudder West (and the same week I started to look at the SMBBT info), they announced the event was cancelled. So in the final week of February, I began looking into the route knowing I had a few months to run all of the sections that were still unfamiliar to me before taking it all on at once. I was thinking of tackling this route three months down the road, so I could properly plan and figure out what I needed to do to make this dream a reality. With 70 miles of trail and 14,000 feet of elevation gain, I would definitely need some planning and a support crew to along the way. Of those, I knew the SMBBT would provide unique challenges of its own. It is also my last year of residency at UCLA and my least year in Los Angeles, meaning there were a few things on my must do list: Cactus to Clouds to Cactus (C2C2C) Trail in Palm Springs (check), run an ultramarathon (officially), and run the Santa Monica Backbone Trail (SMBBT). I had decided that 2018 would be my year of adventure, a year to tackle new challenges and push myself to enter the unknown. I still thought the Backbone Trail was a crazy idea and didn’t know if it would ever happen. The Santa Monica Mountains kept building me up and continued to call. It is a connection that has helped me rediscover my love for the Los Angeles area, even with its many imperfections. These hills not only shaped me into a different type of runner, but a different type of person. But throughout the past few years, those trails built me up, adding miles and minutes on my previous efforts and peace and comfort from a busy life. At the time, it never crossed my mind to even attempt this insane feat, knowing that it was over 50 miles and that a 7-mile run was plenty for me. ![]() Every new trail offered a new sense of joy and a new challenge.Ī few years ago, I heard about one trail to connect them all, the Backbone Trail. From Will Rogers State Park near Santa Monica, through Malibu and Point Mugu, the Santa Monica mountains provided an endless array of running and I was loving every heart pounding minute of it. ![]() I was back in my element, back in nature and back onto the trails. As difficult as the running was, the escape from the concrete jungle was just the medicine I needed. All of my running had been flat and these mountains offered an entirely new challenge for me. I started with a few trails that quickly humbled me with challenging climbs. While I doubted that Los Angeles could offer anything scenic beyond a traffic jam on the 405 freeway, I turned to the Santa Monica mountains for my respite. It was during that time that I heard about some running and hiking trails that were close by. While the races provided an occasional relief, they were few and far between. Running circles around the block and down the street quickly became old, and to be honest, probably added some stress to my life. To be clear, I still hated running, but knew it was a necessary evil if I wanted to get better at OCR. I was drowning in a career-driven culture and needed something to remedy the stress. ![]() It was an escape from the career driven hustle of Los Angeles, from dental school, and from my life’s troubles. ![]() That sense of accomplished lingered long after the pain in my legs wore off and I wanted to explore this whole obstacle course racing (OCR) thing. It was so different from what I was accustomed to in my comfortable and clean modern-day life. I loved rolling through the mud and pushing myself beyond what I thought was possible. Yet, I walked, or rather limped away with 50 miles and a profound sense of accomplishment. During those 24 hours of hell, I danced with hypothermia, flirted with rhabdomyolysis, and was depleted of all of my energy. I didn’t have aspirations of doing well or continuing on into this sport, but rather thought of it as an item to check off of the bucket list. Which is why in 2014, I was in way over my head entering an insane event known as World’s Toughest Mudder (WTM). One of the draws of playing volleyball growing up was how little running it involved. ![]()
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