Spartan Big Bear Beast, May 16-17, 2026

 

I have officially confirmed a scientific theory:

It takes me approximately four years to forget how terrible the Big Bear Spartan Beast is.

Evidence:

• 2018 — “Never again.”
• 2022 — “Maybe it wasn’t THAT bad.”
• 2026 — “Oh right. This is basically mountain warfare.”

See you again in 2030 apparently.

For those unfamiliar, the Big Bear Beast is not really a race. It’s more like:
“Would you like to pay money to climb 5,000 vertical feet while questioning every life decision you’ve ever made?”

The answer, historically, has been yes.

This year started with optimism. That was my first mistake.

The weather actually wasn’t terrible. Warm enough to slowly drain your soul, but not hot enough to fully justify complaining. Just enough sun exposure to make every climb feel personal.

About halfway through the race, I remembered exactly why I only do this event once every Olympic cycle.

Big Bear is the kind of race where:

• the climbs never end
• the descents destroy your quads
• your hydration strategy becomes a religious experience
• and at some point you start bargaining with God, your electrolytes, and your life choices simultaneously.

And yet somehow…
I still finished 3rd in my age group at the US Nationals Series.

Which honestly says more about endurance athletes than fitness. We are not well.

One thing that was different this year though: I skipped obstacles. For the first time EVER. My shoulder has been cranky for about six weeks, and instead of pretending I was invincible, I did the penalty loops instead of aggravating it further.

Old Dawn would’ve forced the obstacles out of pride and then complained for six months afterward.

Current Dawn apparently has slightly more brain cells.

Growth.

I also skipped the Sprint afterward. There was a time I would’ve forced myself through sheer stubbornness, but after nearly talking myself into another several hours of suffering, I finally called someone who gave me permission to stop.

Honestly, that may have been healthier than the podium finish.

Somewhere over the last few years, something has shifted for me.

I still love adventure.
I still love mountains.
I still love testing myself.

But I’m less interested in proving I can destroy myself.

That realization is… weird.

For a long time, endurance sports were deeply tied to my identity. They represented strength, resilience, freedom, and reclaiming ownership of my body. Spartan racing gave me confidence and community and some truly ridiculous stories.

But somewhere between:

• writing a book
• working too much
• healing old trauma
• learning piano
• building meaningful friendships
• adventure racing
• and emotionally waking up in midlife

…I seem to have lost a little enthusiasm for voluntary death marches.

Honestly, maybe that’s healthy.

Or maybe I’ll completely forget all this again in four years when registration opens.

Probably the second one.

Anyway, if you’re considering Big Bear:

• train your downhill legs
• bring electrolytes
• start early
• question your life choices responsibly
• and remember:

There’s no shame in skipping the extra race afterward.

Although I did come back the next day and run the "Spartan Trail".  It was just as hilly, but thankfully only half as long.  

San Jose Spartan Ultra and Trifecta Weekend, April 4-5, 2026

I think the San Jose Spartan Ultra/Super/Sprint weekend is my favorite Spartan venue.

I flew in Friday morning with just enough time to have lunch with my mother-in-law before heading to packet pickup and mentally preparing to make questionable life choices the next day.

Still, as Spartan weekends go, this course was actually pretty enjoyable. It was flat, fast, and had one major advantage: a lake.

Normally Spartan races involve slowly overheating while covered in dust and regret, but this course gave us multiple opportunities to jump into the water and cool off. One of the barbed wire crawls even ran along the edge of the lake through wet sand instead of the usual sharp rocks and/or cactus.  The lake crawl honestly felt surprisingly refreshing considering the circumstances.

The Ultra was still a sufferfest, obviously. Heat, obstacles, tired legs, and the usual ongoing negotiation between body and brain about whether continuing forward is truly necessary.

Somehow though, everything came together that day. I finished the Ultra in 6:39 and ended up winning my age group, which honestly surprised me given how much time I spent throwing myself into the lake to cool off.

The rest of the weekend included the Super and Sprint, plenty of soreness, and the realization that obstacle race recovery gets a lot more interesting with age.

Still worth it.

 

Alice-Toxaway Backpacking, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho, September 2025

Last September my friend Wendy and I escaped to Idaho for the Alice-Toxaway Loop backpacking trip.  We discovering it was seemingly the only place in the region not getting hammered with rain during the exact dates we had free.

Sometimes the weather gods take pity on you.

I’d heard the Sawtooths were beautiful, but honestly, this loop exceeded expectations. Lake after lake after lake, granite everywhere, and some of the stillest water I’ve ever seen in the mountains. The reflections looked almost fake at times.

We took two nights to complete the loop, which gave us time to slow down a little instead of just grinding miles. Definitely the right choice. There were multiple moments where we just stopped talking because the scenery was ridiculous.

Mild mornings, sore legs, mountain air, and endless alpine lakes. Hard to complain about much.

Trips like this remind me why I love the mountains in the first place. Not for speed. Not for races. Just for those occasional moments where everything gets very quiet and very simple.

Wheeler Peak, 13,167 ft, Great Basin National Park

Three of my workout friends and I headed down to Great Basin National Park for a long weekend of camping, cave touring, and climbing Wheeler Peak.

I have loved Great Basin since climbing this peak about 10 years ago, and it absolutely lives up to the hype. Ancient bristlecone pines, wide open skies, surprisingly dramatic mountains for Nevada, and way fewer crowds than most national parks.

We spent two nights camping and climbed Wheeler Peak, which tops out over 13,000 feet. The views were incredible, although the altitude definitely humbled a few of us.

By “a few of us,” I mean our trainer may have developed altitude sickness and proceeded to puke most of the way back down the mountain.

Nothing strengthens friendships quite like watching someone dry heave beside a switchback while the rest of you pretend you’re not also struggling.

We also toured Lehman Caves, which felt like entering another planet. Giant formations, strange textures, and the kind of underground silence that makes everyone start whispering automatically.

Overall, an awesome trip and one of the more underrated national parks I’ve visited.