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A few weeks ago, my wife Jess and I hopped in our little short bus and drove down to California for the 2026 Canyons 100k race. I’ll admit: I was filled with uncertainty.
I have this life philosophy that if you do something, think something, or feel something, other people probably do too. So many times, we are cautious about admitting those things because we are afraid of what others may think. But human beings are pretty similar in many ways. If this were a typical race report, here is where I would share my pre-race thoughts, then dive into a detailed blow-by-blow account of how the race played out, and wrap it up with some thoughts on how that made me feel.
To be honest, I don’t really feel like doing that. It’s not that there isn’t really a story to tell; it’s just not really the one I want to pen. What interests me more is the psychological aspect of the race.
Zach Miller running during the early miles of the 2026 Canyons 100k. All photos: Nick Presniakov
Going into the Canyons 100k, I was in pursuit of both a Golden Ticket for Western States 100 and a UTMB qualification. What I would do if I managed to collect both was to be determined, but for the time being, chasing these coveted spots seemed like a good goal. Originally, I was going to begin the chase two months prior at the Tarawera 100k race in New Zealand, but a troublesome knee kept me from toeing the line. Canyons was Plan B, so there we were, driving to Auburn, California, for one big swing.
In a typical race report, perhaps this is the part where I’d tell you about all of the psychological weapons that I used during the race. There’s value in questions like: What was your mantra when things got hard? How did you summon the motivation to keep going? What drives you? But if these are the only questions that we ask, we are leaving money on the table.
For me, the thoughts that felt most valuable were not so much those that arose mid-race, but the ones that I had leading into and out of it. To understand these thoughts, it helps to know a bit of backstory.
A Past Golden Ticket Opportunity
This was the first Golden Ticket start line that I had stood on since 2014. If you do the math, that’s a 12-year hiatus. I won a Golden Ticket at the 2014 Lake Sonoma 50 Mile, but declined it because I did not want to run Western States that year. [Editor’s Note: Everyone should re-watch this post-race interview. It is a classic.]
Zach Miller running during the 2026 Canyons 100k.
At that time in my career, fast, runnable, Golden Ticket-style races were my thing. Although I raced over a variety of distances and terrains throughout the year, I almost always found myself in at least one fast, runnable race in the 50-mile to 100k range. It was a distance I became quite comfortable with and started to feel like I had it pretty dialed.
Uncertainty
As Jess and I drove the bus south to Canyons, my feelings about racing were very different from what they had been at Lake Sonoma 12 years earlier. Though parts of my confidence remained, they were accompanied by significant uncertainty. Ultrarunning has really evolved in recent years, and to be honest, I really wasn’t sure if I had it in me to keep pace with the current state of the sport at this type of race. This, coupled with a troublesome knee that I had been nursing pretty much all winter, meant I had my fair share of doubts.
Zach Miller swapping vests at an aid station during the 2026 Canyons 100k.
To make matters worse, my confidence, or lack thereof, wasn’t helped any by a social media post from fellow ultrarunner Jim Walmsley a short while before the race that said: “Waiting for the right time is part of the art.” This isn’t anything bad; he was simply saying he was getting antsy to race but felt it was important to have some patience. I identified with his words, as I have long thought that one of the keys to success is picking battles appropriately. I feel like so many times people lose the race before it even starts because they fail to wait for the right time.
I specifically remember driving out of Bend, Oregon, where we live, feeling uneasy that I might be doing something dumb. But I was already registered, and sponsors were expecting me to be there, so what was I to do? Turn the bus around and stay at home? Fortunately, I read another social media post by Mason Coppi, both a runner and a coach, that was essentially the opposite of Walmsley’s. He talked about how his winter training had been unideal and was coming off a recent race, but he had a bib for the Boston Marathon, so he thought he would show up and give it a go despite his immense uncertainty. He ended up running a 2:15:07 to win the open division and qualify for the Olympic Marathon Trials. He admitted that it was “an unexpected turn of events,” then went on to explain that he encourages people to be curious because doing so gives them a chance to succeed and/or learn in the process. Mason’s post gave me a bit of hope. Perhaps in some way, it helped me keep the bus pointed south.
Zach Miller choosing curiosity during the 2026 Canyons 100k.
When Jess and I got to Auburn, my doubts were still present, but so was my curiosity. I felt that I was in good shape. What my fitness would amount to and whether or not my knee and hip would hold up remained a mystery, but I wasn’t backing out. We had come all this way, and I was determined to put myself in the race and see what came of it.
Race Day
On race morning, I ate my oatmeal, tied my shoes, put on my headlamp, and got on the start line. I was still unsure of myself as the gun went off, but I sprang off the line and kept going until I reached Auburn. When I got there, I was over the moon. I had fought hard throughout the race and finished second, thereby earning spots for both Western States 100 and UTMB. But more than that, I had proven to myself that I could still do it. I could compete in these fast, runnable 100k races.
Zach Miller finishing the 2026 Canyons 100k in second to earn a Western States Golden Ticket and spot at UTMB.
As the weekend ended, Jess and I got back in the bus and pointed it north, back home to Oregon. We retraced our steps, but this time with far different vibes. My nervous uncertainty and stress were replaced by excitement and relief. The fear that I was doing something dumb was gone, and the curiosity for what the future might hold was stronger than ever. Sure, I still had a knee to watch and competitors to face, but my heart was soaring, and my desire to keep charging was as strong as ever.
I had picked a questionable battle, but my curiosity paid off. I thrived where I could have died and can now ride this vibe and these lessons to the next big dance.
Who knows what that opportunity will bring!
Call for Comments
Have you ever felt uncertain about lining up for a race, only to have a great experience?
What lessons have you learned from taking big risks, whether they work out or not?
Give It a Chance by Zach Miller.
