The Joy of Stories: Reflections from Tahoe 200 

This is not another Tahoe 200 race report. Truthfully, this knowledge will probably move past the 200-mile distance itself. Over the past week, I’ve sat here and reflected on the Destination Trails Tahoe 200-mile endurance run. As a writer, I’ve never truly struggled to find words, just the right words. For an event like this, the emotions are complex. The happiness of finishing brings the sadness of knowing the adventure is over. The highs experienced in the mountains also bring the valley of the lows. However, there is one thing that transcends the spectrum of emotions: the joy of stories. 

The Adventure I Experienced

Tonight will mark 7 days since I finished. The thing that has come up the most during this past week is the stories. The draw of endurance sports is that humans seem to have a short-term memory for pain, but a long term one for the pieces of the journey. The adventure I experienced in Tahoe brought with it shared and individual tales. For example, I shared the first night miles with fellow adventurers Andrew Marvin and Casey Sanders. Both of them have finished multiple 200-milers, but these races were always full of surprises. 

Chilly Tahoe Night

For a quad-crushing climb through the chilly Tahoe night up towards Armstrong Pass (the high point of the race at nearly 9500+ feet), I couldn’t have found better companions. Only, we were all sick. Earlier that day, my stomach was the first to go. Slipping behind a rock, I hurled, laughing at the absurdity of a mile 17 puke as I did. As I stepped out from behind the rocks, I smiled, barf on my face like a toddler. There was Casey Sanders, who caught the tail end of my episode.

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Retell the Story

Sure enough, as we sat down for a break close to midnight, Andrew Marvin’s gut was the next to go. He puked and heaved, later admitting he thought he puked on my shoe. Sitting here and telling you a puke story to prove my point is one of my favorite things about endurance sports. At that moment, we were all miserable. The dry Tahoe heat and altitude had left us all with stomach issues and headaches. Gut-punching climbs humbled us. And yet, after the race was over, we continued to retell the story and laugh about it. 

Unsung Crew Hero

In another example, we have my amazing crew and pacers. Throughout the entire race, there was a chat room where everyone communicated. When I got to mile 99, I was absolutely tired and devastated. As I sat down in a chair and the medic taped my left ankle, I met the unsung crew hero, Khaleesi the 11-year-old dog. Sitting there in her puffy, Khaleesi gave me a sassy look. Having known her for a week now, the fact that she was mildly impressed with me was a win. The crew not only joked about us being named the Khaleesi Orange Puffy Pirates, but also communicated about me throughout the race. This was endearing. 

Capturing the Spirit

During a 200-mile adventure, you could write an entire book on the collection of stories that occur out there. Good stories, bad stories, and bizarre stories are the foundation of endurance sports. While the emotions solidify years later and become distant memories, the stories live on. These are amazing individual stories or shared stories, like my pacers being subjected to my trail naps. Whether it be my Stegosaurus hallucination alarming my crew or the sheer disgust in them watching me eat a cheeseless pineapple pizza with my bare hands, there’s a story for everything. Here at Run Tri Bike, we’re all about capturing the spirit of those endurance sports stories from the everyday athlete. Think you don’t have a story? You’re wrong. Everybody has a story. Tell us yours and partake in the joy of stories.

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