HTC 2026: What Will I Find Out There?

Reflecting on this past weekend, I couldn’t get the image of Luke Skywalker out of my head. In Empire Strikes Back, Yoda tells Luke to go into the tree. Luke asks Yoda what’s inside. Yoda famously replies: “Only what you take with you.”

If you knew you had to do a 200 mile relay race with 11 other runners, what are you going to bring?

Our hopes, fears, anxieties all end up manifesting in the strangest ways during the Hood to Coast.

The Physical Manifestations of Anxiety

What if I get cold? Thirsty? Bored? I better have 2 more sets of clothes just in case. All the extra supplies we bring with us are manifestations of race anxiety. Not only does anxiety weigh us down mentally, it literally weighs down the van, costs more in fuel, and makes finding anything impossible since now you’re digging through a dozen different packs and bags because everyone else *also* packed everything in triplicate.

I’m not advocating skimping on necessary items – things like safety and communications are absolutely necessary and kept somewhere easily accessible. But things like van logistics and supplies should absolutely be communicated at least among the runners of each van.

Our Pirate Themed Team at the Finish

Bringing our Values into the Race

One of my core values is that we do not strand our runners. Our runners work hard to get there and are sometimes battling to get to the exchange. The least we can do is be present for them when they finish.

Logistically it works better if we have at least 2 people show up for our runner – the next runner, and a second person, I refer to as the “chaperone” that can guide the last runner back to the van. It makes the handoff clean and minimizes confusion. Losing a minute or two due to a sloppy exchange can compound quickly over 36 legs. Not only will it add 30+ minutes to our total time, but if the van gets too far behind schedule, we risk being forced to start skipping legs or leapfrogging since the race organizers need to start closing the exchanges later in the afternoon.

During a past Hood to Coast relay, I blew up on Van 2 because they had stranded my runner. It was 1 AM in the morning, we were already behind schedule, and I was rushing to get our sleeping accommodation set up to maximize sleep. When the volunteers repeated our team number, I realized my runner didn’t have anyone to take the baton with him to keep the run going. I dropped what I was doing to meet him and to send several angry texts out to van 2. The next runner finally showed up 15 minutes later and we finally were able to get back to setting up camp. To this day, my wife tells me that’s the most irate she had ever seen me get. It didn’t matter to me how fast or slow my runner was. My runner didn’t even seem to be particularly upset, but the fact that it happened to someone on my team meant that it happened to me. I do not strand my runners out in the cold.

I’ve seen that happen to too many runners in the middle of the night and I’ve decided that that’s not who I want to be.

I relayed this exact experience as we were rolling into Exchange 18 as that reminded us of my episode from last year. This year, I was in constant contact with Van 2 and relayed to them our ETA so they had enough time to meet our incoming runner.

I also said that perhaps the only exception to the “we do not strand our runners” rule is if our runner comes in so fast, they outkick the van and end up at the exchange before the van gets a chance to meet them. I considered that almost as a flex.

Not 5 minutes go by and while we’re waiting in traffic, ¼ mile from the exchange, our runner 6 blows by and beats the pants off our van. I can’t even make it up.

I told Van 2 to go ahead after the exchange because they needed to make sure their runner was supported at the end of her leg. We didn’t even stop to park at exchange—we called our #6 runner, and she jumped into our van within 5 minutes or so. Not ideal but no one was being held up on our account. There could be worse things than outrunning the van.

This value I bring with me manifests itself with my meticulous timekeeping. I maintained a Google sheet using everyone’s reported time, multiplying it by both the distance and a difficulty factor. I then subtract the projected time by 10 minutes and that dictates the time we need to have someone waiting for our incoming runner.

Race Anxiety Informs our Expectations

Even the most experienced runners get anxious and question their fitness. I’ve run with folks who have had decades of racing under their belt, and I still end up reassuring them and reminding them to trust their training. This year’s HTC was no different.

During the second and third legs, fatigue sets in and my runners start second guessing their ability. It manifests in their goal pace.

“I’m going to gun for 13-minute miles,” my runner tells me as they get ready for their next leg.

I secretly write down 11-minute miles in my projection because, as the Good Book says, “love believes all things.”

I make sure I’m there to meet them at the other end using my own numbers. Often, they beat their goal pace by a lot— and much closer to my secret projection than to theirs.

What’s going on there?

My theory is that anxiousness is causing them to sandbag their own efforts— they don’t want to risk setting too ambitious of a goal and then not making it. It’s better to under promise and over deliver vs the other way around.

My secret calculations allow me to likewise be conservative with me sending someone out there to meet my runners when they finish. It does give me warm fuzzies when they end up finishing much faster, closer to my secret time as opposed to what they believed for themselves. My hope is that they walked away from the exchange knowing that I had believed in their potential the entire time and they can do hard things.

But what if something happens and my runner ends up on the struggle bus, battling to the end? The same runners that undersell themselves on the front end will also catastrophize on the back end if they didn’t do well.

But here’s a hard truth: the course nor the clock know who you are. They force you to look at yourself. A long leg will expose both excellence and flaws. They are unforgiving, yet fair judges.

Back in the van, we help our runners discern the difference between fitness issues and execution issues. If it’s a fitness issue, then sorry there’s not much we can do during the race itself. Your fitness comes from the work you did (or didn’t do) in the months prior to the race. There’s no hiding from that. But If it’s an execution issue, those can be easily fixable and can net free time without added effort. Did you go out too hot? Did you tie your shoes correctly? Did you bring fuel with you? How did you tackle the hills? Picking apart all these little things makes everything much more tangible and manageable than what a trite “listen to your body” platitude will ever do. We can focus and know what to listen for, so we can adjust for the next leg. With a relay such as Hood to Coast, you’ll get an opportunity to clean up your execution much sooner rather than later.

What I Packed

I will do everything in my power to make sure we don’t strand our runners. I will sabotage my own recovery by walking back and forth between the exchange and the van. I’ll wait out in the sun an extra 20-30 minutes to make sure I can see my runner to their finish. It could be warm and uncomfortable for me, but how much more uncomfortable is it for the runner who is battling cramps to the end? It wasn’t that long ago that I was that runner. It only takes one bad cramp or a tweaked knee to be that runner again.

One year I was in Van 2, I was cramping, but made it to exchange 24 and handed off the baton back to Van 1. But no one from my own van was there to meet me. I was wandering around in the dark, looking for my van with no reception. Eventually my teammates found me, but those 10-15 minutes in pain and being lost was something I never want anyone on my team to experience.

This year, being that there’s hardly any reception in the country, I did exactly what Luke Skywalker did and brought my lightsaber. It lights up, and its instantly identifiable – perfect for being found in the middle of the night. The problem is that its also long, fragile and takes up a ton of space. Recall there are 5 other runners bringing their anxieties with them. A giant toy lightsaber just made it that much harder to dig through a bunch of bags to get to my own stuff.

Ultimately,  we didn’t even use it anyways. My spreadsheet estimating expected arrival times got more accurate as I put in people’s actual course times so I was able to project van finish times within the hour. Cell service had improved significantly since the mid 2010s so we were still able to send some texts from the middle of nowhere, and we had 2 way radios with about a mile range so the vans were able to contact each other once they were in the same lot. My fear of being injured, stranded and lost manifested in me bringing a cumbersome light up toy that ended up taking up a bunch of space and not being used in anyway whatsoever.

Yet the team still thought it was a good idea to have something long and identifiable to help find each other from amongst the crowds. If not a lightsaber, then what?

Wait a minute.

zoom... enhance

Our driver mentioned that we *already* have a giant flag on the side of our van. Its not that much work taking it off during the major exchanges to find each other. The answer to our problem had been with us the entire time. We didn’t make this realization until hours after we finished. Collective facepalm activated. Egg all on our faces.

“Only what you take with you.”

Luke brought his weapons into that tree and found only his own anxieties. The cave didn't put anything in there. He did.

The 200 mile Hood to Coast relay did the same thing. It was never about if you were fast enough. Are you “really” a runner? You’ve been a runner this entire time.  What did you bring with you? The extra bags? A sandbagged pace? the lightsaber you never ended up using? Somewhere out there during a random leg in the middle of the night, the course showed you what kind of runner you are.

I’ve run this race 8 times now over the past 10 years, and I keep learning the same lesson. What I *don’t* carry with me is just as important as what I do carry with me. Race anxiety packs heavy. The truth, on the other hand, travels light.

Next year, bring less. You already have everything you need. Some of it's even bolted to the van.

 

Random lessons to take home from HTC 2026:

Don't underestimate a runner's finishing kick.  The second the exchange is in sight, they go beast mode; the aches vanish and the body finds a ridiculous burst of energy.

You have less time than you think. Account for traffic.  5-6 miles might not seem far for a Van. But in rural roads with traffic, it can take upwards of 30 minutes to get to the next exchange. The next runner might have to jump out and walk in order to make the exchange. This is extremely common after ~ exchange 15 or so.

Nerds Clusters and pickles are the sports nutrition of the people. We took zero fancy gels this year. I don't recall any of us using any of the fancy liquid IV stuff either. Candy and pickles will get you the fuel and electrolytes you need at a fraction of the cost. They'll taste better too. 

The Alaska Airlines tents at exchange 24 are a godsend. These tends simplify overnight sleeping arrangements by heaps. No more squishing in a van, trying to sleep in an awkward position. Get the app before the race, screenshot your member ID in case reception's bad.

That’s all I got for today.

 

Now go run