Western States 2022

Western States Endurance Run 100.2 miles

Palisades to Auburn, California

Saturday, June 25-Sunday, June 26, 2022

I've waited over a week to write this report and it wasn't coming naturally. I finally figured that if I didn't just sit down and make myself write the story down that time would distance me from my memories and it would no longer be pertinent.

I ran Western States in 2013 as my first 100 miler, in my inexperience and doubt I faultered my way to the finish line and vowed almost immediately to go back, stronger, more prepared and face the mountains as the best version of myself.

For nine consecutive years I qualified and put into the lottery. For eight years my name did not get drawn, but finally this past December, my number got drawn, I was going back.

It hasn't been the best or easiest season, injury has claimed a bit of my time, so much so that down to the final hours and minutes these injuries haunted my thoughts. 

However, in California, with my crew, settled into the condo with all of my gear around me I felt good. If anything I felt too calm, not nervous enough. I had accepted that likely my knees or my right calf or my left Achilles would cause me trouble at some point, I just had to hold them off as long as possible and not let them get me down physically or mentally when they became a problem. 

I felt mostly ready to tackle the distance, I was mostly comforted that even though in training I hadn't been able to do everything I had hoped to prepare that I had done all that I could safely do. Mostly. However, the Thursday before the race I had a very small hiccup hiking back to our car from Vikingsholm near Lake Tahoe. Our group of friends (the crew) and I had enjoyed this really beautiful, fun, wonderful day together and we were finishing it off by seeing some of Emerald Bay. I was alone, hiking the final stretch back to our cars when I just had this thought that it felt harder than it should to climb. I told myself I wasn't climbing well because I had put on too much weight and I wasn't light enough to hike well. It was just this small little thought, but it came on like a heavy thunderstorm and before I knew what was happening I mentally crashed so hard that it frightened me.  I tried to shake the negativity but it was prevailing. I made it to the car and we left to continue sightseeing. At the time I didn't tell anyone about it, but I had this string of thoughts that if I couldn't shake a small thought like that on a fun gathering how was I going to do well on Saturday?

I don't like the idea that I'm weak mentally, I like to think I'm aware of it, that I've been working on it, that I'm better than I used to be. I spent a lot of time this spring reading books on mental fortitude and brain training. I reread some of the best of what I had read in the days before the race and took notes on the plane to California. I want and wanted to be tough enough to take on the challenges as they showed up. 

Folks, it didn't happen.  I bent at the first signs of trouble and broke before sunset. Whatever race I wanted to have at Western States, I didn't have. This is the story of the one I did have full of honest mistakes and heart breaks.

Western States 2022

All of my stuff was laid out and readied the night before so when the 3:30 am alarm clock went off Saturday morning, I felt I had plenty of time to make it to the start without any need to rush. We were staying on the grounds of the race start so it would be a quick five minute walk over for the 5 am start. Todd made me oatmeal (two bags of Quaker Cinnamon) and some coffee as I got dressed. I had new shorts, a thin Patagonia t-shirt, arm sleeves, Feetures socks and my "75miles in" Altra Lone Peak 3s to start in. I chose my older blue Nathan pack so I could start with a bladder (1.5 liters) and a soft flask of Tailwind. Because it would be a few hours to see my crew I carried an uncrustable, some fruit snacks, raisins, candy and GU. I had between 6-700 calories but I also knew there would be food at aid stations. I wore a cooling Buff and a Nike hat. 

Walking over that morning I did finally feel a little nervous, I tried not to think about the full distance but instead focused on taking in the atmosphere of such a fun race start. There were so many people at the start. Amongst the crowd was my family and my crew of Todd, our children Bailey and Cooper, Scott Covey, the Kidd family (Don, Rosellyn, Zoey, and Edon), Steve and Terri Higgins, Bethany Williams,  and Jeremy Peterson. I got photos with my crew and we saw Josh (who was also running) and Gina Gilbert and James Decker and got photos with them. 

Before too long it was time to start and I said good-bye to the crew and walked to the starting line along with Josh. It was at this point that I realized I had forgotten my soft flask cup that I needed to use at aid stations as Western States was a cupless race. I worried briefly about not having it but Todd said he would get it to me at Duncan Canyon and I just hoped they would give me soda beforehand at the aid stations. 

The start of Western States is pretty incredible, that hadn't changed from my previous experiences there. I enjoyed starting out in a big group and seeing all of the support crews and fans straddling the sides of the climb for the first mile. By the time the crowd had thinned, Josh was gone and the sun was rising. There is no need to start States with a headlamp. There are ski lights on and the sun comes up fast. 

Climbing that first couple miles felt good enough, I didn't move fast, I mostly hiked but there were a few sections flat enough to jog so I did. I felt I was moving smoothly but I also was noticing I was nearer the back, sure there were people behind me but it seemed like most of the people hiked or ran more aggressively. 

At the time I didn't stress this but maybe I should have. In my mind I just told myself that I had miles upon miles to make up that ground, however after making it to the escarpment at mile 4 you begin a long section of ridge running on somewhat narrow trail. It is beautiful surroundings but it's not great trail. It's wet from snow run off, even if most of the snow seems long gone and I had vowed not to let my feet get trashed again so early so I was more careful to avoid the wet. Avoiding the wet wasn't a problem but getting around the crowds of people who were now ahead of me was. Anyone who has started further back in a race than they should have will understand the frustration of trying to get around groups of slower moving traffic. 

I tried not to let this get me down but I felt I wasn't moving like I should and I wanted to move better before the heat of the day set in. I did the best I could to avoid the wet and get around the slower groups and not stress it but in retrospect I was getting irritated. I wasn't basking in the day like I swore to. 

I finally got frustrated enough that I started trying to go around people and was able to make up a little ground when I realized I didn't feel that great moving, I just felt more fatigued that I would have liked, I didn't know if this was because I was frustrated or the higher altitude but I took a minute to access. I gave myself a little pep talk where I told myself to calm down, that there was plenty of day left once we made it to lower elevation. 

I got to aid station one and there was this little billboard sign that each aid station has that says the aid station, the 24 hour pace, the 30 hour pace and the distance to the next aid station. If there was a first moment that really wrecked my day it was aid station one and it was this sign. I came in BEHIND 30 hour pace on a day I wanted to attempt sub 24. 

I immediately started to question everything, why was I going so slow, what was wrong, what did I need to do to speed up, was the sign correct, was I really fighting cut offs? I asked for ice in my bladder and went over to where there was soda. I told the volunteer that I forgot my soft flask cup, thankfully he reached into a plastic bag and pulled out a brand new soft cup that he told me I could take with me. I got a little coke, a piece of fruit and my vest pack bladder filled with water and ice. 

Leaving the aid station I was still stressed about the sign but I knew there had to be nearly 100 people still behind me. I tried to tell myself to just trust myself, my pace, how I run and race, but it wasn't really working. When a faster runner came up and started to pass me I asked him about the signs. He agreed that they were based on past runners and that they didn't mean we couldn't run 24 hours, but soon he ran on and I was still not convinced. 

I really did try to settle in, trust myself and run. The race climbs some from here and I just tried to take in the beauty around me. I heard someone behind me basking in the views as well and I began chatting with him, he was also from Virginia and we talked about the distinct difference in the mountain tops we were seeing and about the races back home. It was nice to have someone to talk to, we talked about ultra runners and races we both may know. We ran on a ways together including the next aid station where once again I was right at the 30 hr mark. 

At this point it was feeling warm and hard already, I got more ice and soda and tried to eat a lot of fruit and a GU. I was somewhat convinced that I was struggling with altitude and I told myself that I just needed to accept it and get to lower elevations safely and quickly. I left aid two excited that it was just a few more miles and I would get to see my crew. 

Between aid 2 and aid 3 there were beautiful views but the running felt harder than made sense, I felt really slow and became aware that I would be lucky to hit my 2013 split and not my goal for the day at Duncan Canyon. Then halfway into this section, I ran out of water. I reached back to feel a block of ice in my bladder but nothing was coming out.  So I sipped harder to only realize that the water surrounding the block of ice was gone. I would run, holding my hand on the bladder behind me in some desperate attempt to speed up the melting of the ice, I would run with my tube in my mouth and just suck on any water I could get out. I should not be out of water I thought, I was angry at the block of ice and so looking forward to seeing Todd and the crew at Duncan Canyon. 

I came into that aid station within a minute of my 2013 split. I realized that maybe my 2013 splits to here weren't that bad, at least for me. I was a little disappointed in myself in both the present for not being faster and for the past for not appreciating how well I may have actually done. I handed off my pack to get more water and went to Todd and the crew. There was a little sense of urgency but Todd told me I was doing fine, I felt good to be there and to see Todd and JP and the kids but I know I complained a bit about the signs and the running out of water. Todd took my trash and gave me some new candy and I was handed back my vest. I started to leave but came back and asked for sunglasses, Todd couldn't find mine so he gave me the white sunglasses crew got at the pre-race from Brazen Racing, I felt bad taking the crew sunglasses but it was really bright and exposed and I needed the shade. 

Leaving Duncan Canyon I did feel better mentally, I had gotten to complain a little and I had water again. I knew I was starting to descend from the higher elevations and hoped I would start to physically feel some better. And I did. I settled in to the day a little better, I reminded myself to enjoy the highs and lows, and I drank. I felt I was moving better and I started to catch and pass runners more naturally which gave me the feeling that I could trust my self and pace, that my day could come around. I reminded myself that there was time. 

I did get my feet wet through here through unavoidable water crossings but it was the first time all day and I wasn't stressed because I knew my crew had sock kits at every crew station. I met a runner here from California and we ran a long ways together, his pace was a little slower than I had been moving but I was starting to feel mentally on top of things and knew I could make a friend and be ok on time. We talked about races for a few miles until a few runners passed us including a female. I was running low on water  and moving slower than I knew I could and maybe should so I passed my friend and went along as another group passed. 

I didn't catch back up to the female but I saw her ahead. It was fun running a little faster because it finally felt good to do so and I knew we would be at Robinson soon. The only problem I had was that I had run out of water again, I was irritated that my bladder seemed so small and that I was now out of water a second time. 

Coming into Robinson is a big ordeal, you see people for a long time before you are at the aid station and even once you're at the aid station it can take a minute to find your crew. Thankfully Bethany saw me and alerted me to where the rest of the crew were.  I gave my pack to a race volunteer and went to my crew. I sat down and they had a blanket laid out with all of the things I could want. Bethany set to work changing my socks which was awesome. I felt I was getting hot spots on my big toes so I asked them to tape them, Steve and Bethany tried for a minute to get tape on the toes but I began to worry that the tape may irritate the toes more than help so I changed my mind. I drank the soda they had and tried to eat some of an uncrustable. I lamented about the running out of water and the frustrating pace signs and told them that I probably wasn't eating great but I didn't feel I was totally sucking at eating either. 

I did spend a few necessary minutes here but none of the time was wasted and it felt so good to get dry socks and see the crew. I remember lots of other crews being there like 'watching' me and I didn't love that feeling, I felt like an animal on display and I felt a little feral. 

I got up and said good bye to the crew and I felt about as good as I had felt all day. I have been to Robinson as crew, I have seen weary, exhausted runners here at barely a 50k, I didn't feel weary, I felt good! 

I left and I knew I had the descending of nearly a half marathon up ahead. I told myself I could be smart and I was finally feeling good and this was my time. 

Leaving Robinson you see crews and people for a ways and they cheered and told me I looked good and fresh and I wondered if they were talking to me or someone else and I turned to see no one behind me, and then some yelled my name. Strangers did this. It felt weird at first but I started to soak it up and I enjoyed it, I did feel good. I was at Western States!! Here I soaked this in, I'm glad I did, it was fun and made me feel special and capable and good to be a runner.

After a climb leaving the aid station area you begin descending. I knew that a runner could wreck their legs descending so I was careful to run easy enough to not stress the muscles but not to out on the breaks either. It was open and exposed through here but I started to see people I hadn't seen all day on the course ahead of me, I started to pick runners and catch them and then pick new runners. I made it a little game. And I drank. I don't know that I ate well here but I felt good. 

At the aid station at Miller's Defeat I looked at the food and none of it looked appealing, it was fruit and chips and cookies but nothing looked great, I did eat a few strawberries and an oreo but in hindsight maybe not enough. I got my bladder filled with water and the voluneteers asked if I wanted to get doused off. I said no, the woman helping to wet runners down looked at me like I was crazy, I told her I didn't want to get my feet wet and they didn't say anything but I could tell from their faces they didn't agree with my decision. Again, in hindsight this was a mistake but I was running from the memory of trashed feet at mile 40. I was more concerned about my feet than the heat. 

I left Miller's Defeat and though the road was open and exposed and it was full on hot now I ran well and I continued to pass more runners. By the time I got to Dusty Corners my Coros watch said, for the first time all day, that I was on pace for 24 hours. Now I know that doesn't account for slowing down but I know the last miles are easier than the first. I knew that I just needed to protect my feet and be smart and I could do the pace. At Dusty Corners Todd wanted to change my socks but my feet were dry, he seemed a little stressed and tried to get me to eat a bit, he told me not to rush so I sat in the chair they had for me and drank more cherry coke. They had my music that I was supposed to pick up here but they couldn't get it to work, so I told them I would pick it up at Michigan Bluff, Todd seemed concerned but I was not, I told him I was having a good day, things were coming together, I didn't need the music. I would be fine. 

I left and continued on running downhill, the day was sunny and warm but I had picked up an ISOCOOL towel from Duncan Canyon earlier and had switched it up with a cool new wet one at Robinson. The towel felt amazing and did keep cool. However, my crew tried to give me an ice bandana leaving Robinson, I didn't take it, Todd tried to give me one at Dusty Corners I didn't take it.  My crew tried to keep me cool and I wasn't smart enough to accept it because I was just so overly concerned about my sissy little feet to realize that I needed to stay cool. So I may not have stayed cool and guess what happens when you lose your cool?

Exhaustion. 

I don't remember Last Chance aid station now. Like at all. I just spent five minutes trying to remember anything about it and I don't remember it. The sheet of my official splits from the race say that I came into Last Chance in the best position I ever made it to. The name of the aid station reads like a warning and yet I don't remember anything at all about it. I know someone told me what was up ahead.  I know that I descended to the water after this aid station and the bridge and I passed by without getting in. I looked at the body of water, at the people in their cooling off and I remembered that I got in that water for like five minutes in 2013, up to my 3 ipods and I soaked there for minutes cooling off in 2013. But I ran on without stopping this time, I passed over the bridge and I started the climb to Devils Thumb. I knew the climb would be bad, it was the stuff of nightmares in 2013. I knew I just had to make it up and over. 

The climb was long, several miles, and I went slow. Over the few miles two people passed me but the being passed was spread out over a mile or so. I passed a runner and otherwise it was just the hot, slow, grueling climb that I remembered with a lot less people on it. I got to the aid station at the top and I knew I needed food and a little break but otherwise I felt ok.

I came in and a volunteer said "Good job, you're on pace for 25 hours! But you've got to go!" and I rather cockily thought but didn't say, "No, I am going sub 25!" Instead I told him I needed food and they offered me chicken broth and I said I was vegetarian and they said they had veggie broth, I got veggie broth and a popsicle and they took my vest to fill it with water and I asked to sit down and they told me I could but just for a minute but I needed to get out of there. And I got frustrated and thought, am I still chasing cut offs? Why am I being rushed out? I need to eat! But I didn't say it out loud, and my cup had broth in it so I didn't get coke, and I just royally messed up here. The same guy came over a minute later and told me I had to go so I dumped the broth to store the cup in my vest and I got up and I went to leave and I just felt really rushed and frustrated. 

I left and was headed down the trail when I tried to drink water and it didn't work. I tried again but nothing came out. I got really worried and a little irritated and I turned around and went back to the aid station where they started kind of yelling at me for coming back and I told them I couldn't get my water to work. Thankfully a different woman came over and started helping me. The tube to my bladder had come dislodged and wasn't connected. We took it out and I put it back together and tested it. This time it worked and I headed out again but by now I was wholly frustrated, I had been rushed out just to have my water not work and have to go back and I didn't get the time or the calories I needed. I know now that this was my big fail, that I needed to say I needed more but it's not in my nature to speak up for me but rather do as I'm told. I didn't just trust me and get what I needed. 

And so instead, I just left angry and frustrated. Did I pull food from my pack, yes, but I ate a pack of gummies, not enough. I got moving again and looked forward to the downhill from the cemetery because I had gotten mixed up here in 2013. In 2013 I thought I was going the wrong way and I had a low here. This time I knew I wouldn't get mixed up. But the trail was unfamiliar even though I thought that I remembered it, and that mixed me up a little. And then the oven got turned up, it at least felt so VERY HOT going down into El Dorado Creek. The air was so thick and heavy feeling even though everyone says it isn't humid. It felt like I was baking. My pack was moving all around and had started to make my back hurt where the tube inserts into the bladder. I kept putting my hand back there to protect my back and I was overall just unhappy with my pack choice. 

I came into El Dorado and it had taken me longer than 12 hours and my pace had slowed even though we were descending. I came in and let them get me a little wet because I was just so hot and I knew my crew would be at Michigan Bluff and would have a change of socks and shoes if needed. I know that I was out of it because I remember sitting down and a woman telling jokes but I can't remember a word of one of them. They gave me coke and I poured it in my cup and they said you could have drank from the can.  I remember being there a few minutes but not eating and then seeing Josh Gilbert who had been there when I came in and just thinking where did he come from. I remember seeing he got ice in his arm sleeves and then remember his leaving and just seeing his back moving away down the trail. I got ice in my arm sleeves too and then I left. 

I remember thinking I should just catch up to Josh and run with him to Michigan. Thinking that would be fun for us and our crews. But then he pulled out of sight and I was just walking. And I felt I wasn't walking straight. And time seems short here in my memory but the time between aid suggests otherwise. I don't know what happened. In retrospect the heat first and calories second got me most likely, maybe dehydration, maybe all of it. I know I got lightheaded and dizzy and it scared me and I sat down on the climb and I remember looking at my hands and they were white as clouds on both sides. My heart was pounding and I looked and my heart rate sitting was over 140 and it felt higher and I remember thinking "I am not okay." And there was a female runner, I think maybe she was French and her name began with a M and she was kind and told me I needed sugar and she gave me candy and told me she would stay with me, I begged her to go and she got my bib number and she said she would send help or my crew. And then other people passed me. And I sat down. And I moved so slowly and I decided that this was unsafe, that my day was done. 

Todd said he was surprised how slow and long it took me to get to Michigan Bluff and that I was much later getting there than they expected. I'm honestly surprised in hindsight I moved forward at all. The 2.8 miles, while a climb, took me over ninety minutes. I only moved forward for the help of my crew, I had absolutely no plans or desire to leave Michigan Bluff again if and when I got there. I was basically crawling and my heart rate was pounding. I remember the mosquitos were all over me and I didn't even try to swat them away. 

Near the top I finally heard a familiar voice, it was Scott who I call Scovey and he asked me how I was. I remember just being so thankful to see him, because I was worried about how I was feeling and now I had someone who knew me if I passed out. He was chipper and asked me what was wrong, he told me we were almost at the aid station, he told me about my candy bearing French friend (not how he described her of course) telling the aid station "runner 110" needed help and they said they would send a safety runner in a little while when Scovey I believe overheard them and asked to go back for me. 

Scovey told me the whole crew was assembled and they were ready for me to change my socks and that they would get me all ready to go again. I didn't say anything. I knew I was done and just didn't feel like making the climb harder by arguing with Scovey. At the top Todd was there and he sounded a bit annoyed it had taken me so long. Scovey had me stop and take a picture at the Deadwood sign. I finally started to swat the mosquitos away but they had bitten me all up and down my arms and legs.

At the aid station I remember being whisked by the medical tent and the food tents and over to our little area with crew, as I got there there was a guy throwing up beside our area. I sat down and they gave me mashed potatoes and a quarter of an Impossible Burger Don has made. They started working on my my pack and I told them I wasn't taking that pack out with me again that it had beaten my back up and Todd said I had to take it because it had my bladder. I said I couldn't take it hitting my back anymore that I needed the other pack. They decided that I could get to Foresthill with just my soft flask bottle and they would have my other pack ready then. I ate the quarter of sandwich and they gave me another, they gave me lemonade and soda and about this time, if I wasn't already, I got really whiney. I complained that I couldn't keep going, I needed a pacer. I was dizzy and lightheaded and nauseous. Todd told me I needed to eat and drink. I tried. I ate the two quarters of sandwich. I ate some mashed potatoes. I drank the lemonade and then some coke. Todd told me I couldn't leave until I ate more calories, I told him I couldn't eat anymore I was going to get sick. He kept pushing food on me and I finally agreed to applesauce and I was eating it and he said I was going to eat another and then I got up from the chair, squatted and threw up a foot from my crew. 

And then I felt particularly done. At this point they had changed my socks and given me food and argued about the pack and the hydration and the food and I was being a pain in the ass because I was so damn sad. In my very depths I felt my good day was behind me, and I didn't wait nine years for a bad day. I had come into Michigan later than I had in 2013 with great feet and yet here I felt done. It was now pushing 8 pm and I all but refused to leave without a pacer and I really didn't want to leave at all.

I was afraid of how I was feeling and of going it alone. 

At this point I'm pretty sure my crew was afraid of me. I'm not proud of how I behaved and I wish like heck now that I could have realized I was making it worse on myself, but I didn't see it.  I just didn't care. I was done with this year's States. It had won. 

Todd agreed to come to Foresthill to get me out of there. 

Todd ran on to the car to get his pacer bib and a shirt but the cars weren't close by, and I sat there feeling sorry for myself. And I think the rest of the crew tried to get my right again but I was somewhere else by this point that I don't remember much of it which was probably meant as self protection at the time but probably just made me look more of the asshole. They gave me my music and I got up and started to walk away. And Jeremy came up and said encouraging words that he's the expert at getting sick and I would be ok, Steve and maybe Don said encouraging words, honestly I was out of it and don't remember the finer details. They were all doing their best job for me but I was not. The best that I could do for them was to leave, to keep going, and they should know that I did not at the very bottom of my heart want to leave and keep going but I felt that they would think it was their fault if I didn't keep moving. And so I got up to keep moving.

Bailey gave me a hug and said "No one's disappointed in you." Which was the saddest, possibly truest thing a 14 year old could say to their mother in that moment and it just made me feel like an even larger disappointment. 

I was already disappointed in me. I don't know how they could not have been.

At something like 8:03 I left Michigan Bluff, Todd wasn't with me yet but I could see him coming down the road. I was walking and knew he would catch me. But I started to run anyways. And he caught me and told me that I was going to come back. And I think I ran a hundred yards and then I had to get sick. So I squatted again and threw up over and over again, six or seven times, it was aggressive and scary and I had stress incontinence which I had never had before and that scared me even more. I told Todd and he said words but I felt in the moment that he didn't really care how serious this was. I know in retrospect he did but in the moment I felt about as worse as I have ever felt. I just wanted so badly to lie down, be very still and be done. 

I got up and turned my music on and walked a little more but I did feel a little better and soon Todd had me running. Loads and loads of people had passed me by this point but I was also around more people than I had been since the climb and the ridge at the start of the day. Todd kept saying I was running really well and that I could come back. All I could think about was being done. I never said it, but I never thought of anything but stopping at Foresthill.

It was dark by Bath Road. I had a headlamp they had given me at Michigan Bluff. I was quiet but I did run and I did hike and I did feel sick but I just moved forward. Bath road was full of people and messages written on the pavement, I kept looking for crew but I never saw anyone we knew. We got to Foresthill at 9:40, it was so late and so dark and I knew at this point that if I was lucky I could maybe make the finish but I didn't want to run until 11 am the next morning. 

I got a cheese quesadilla at the aid station at Foresthill. Then I walked with Todd over to our crew. I remember feeling out of it. Like I was drugged and not really myself. I remember thinking that the crew was just pulling in because the van had break lights on but also JP and Rosellyn making food on a little fire and Steve handing me warm soup. I was very disoriented. I remember Scovey being dressed to run and having a pacer bib on and thinking "These people still think I'm leaving." I drank a little soup but I just got in the worst spot emotionally of the entire race at this point. I didn't want to fail but I felt I had already failed. The failing was done, why should I go on?

I remember being nauseous and not wanting or being able to eat anything. Having the strong feeling that I needed to get up and throw up in the grass. I remember Todd telling me to sit back and listen to music. I say I remember these things because I think there's a lot that I don't remember. I couldn't find a song and I was flipping through songs when my apple watch notified me that my brother in law Jon was texting me. I remember it saying something about being awesome and thinking if he only knew. And at this point I started to cry softly (I think. Hope.) I don't know that I've ever felt a bigger failure. I just really hated a lot right then, hated that I had asked these people to come to California for me, hated that I wasn't tougher, hated that I knew I was responsible for all that was happening to me. Just wanting out. I sat there thinking about the sleep we could all get. But being too afraid to say I wanted out out loud. Bethany said something like, "you said you're only moving forward for us, that's ok, just use that as your why for now as long as you need it". 

I had 38 miles to go. It scared me to even think how I possibly could go that much further with how I was feeling. They had made Kraft Mac and Cheese I remember thinking if anything was going to save me it would be that which shows maybe some strand of positivity. I ate a little mac and cheese and I felt a wave of nausea. I can't do this, not today, I thought. 

And yet, somehow, I don't really even know how, I got up and I started to leave. The idea of my crew leaving me and going away and sending me on the California Trail was terrifying. I mean terrifying. Like the crazy person you think I am at this point I felt crazy, I had a nearly impossible time getting to that trail. I'm sure Todd felt I was impossible. 

I was nauseous but I was so afraid. These miles had been dark and painful in 2013 and again in 2017. I didn't want to do them, not tonight, not when I knew I was feeling so weak. I stopped and started, dry heaved and whined for a mile or more. Droves of people passed us with their pacers. Todd asked at least twice if I wanted to go back to Foresthill. Inside of my head I wanted so badly to plead with Todd to take me back to Foresthill. My pace dropped further. We weren't going to make it. I threw up again five or six times, all of the mac and cheese and soup and quesadillas. But then again after the throwing up I did feel better.

And so we ran. And I turned my music on. And we passed runners and pacers and we moved and dropped the pace a little. We came in to Cal 1 and Todd gave me a grilled cheese and I was afraid to eat it. But he encouraged me to anyways, but I was afraid it would make me sick again, and he said I had to eat or I wouldn't make it. 

I was confused and nauseous and heartbroken. I would run. But then I would get nauseated and stop. The music would work but then the stomach would fight back harder. By Cal 2 I was like a zombie. I sat there and a gentleman asked how I was and Todd said I was a -3. The guy laughed and told some jokes. Another runner came in and sat down and the same guy asked how he was and the runner said 
"maybe 6" and I looked over at him like he was making fun of me. The aid station guy somehow talked me into getting up even though I really didn't want to. I dreamed of how my crew might come and rescue me here. I believe his name was Bill, as he sent me off he said "I'll see you at the track, I'll see you at Robie Point and then I'll see you again at the track." And I shook my head and he said "No, I promise, you can do it." And he gave me a fist bump. And I fist bumped him back and thought how dishonest that fist bump was on my part. I truly didn't think I would see him at Robie Point.

And yet, still somehow, I left. It took like forever to get to Cal 3. I was miserable. I was exhausted, I had nothing in me and I mean that on multiple levels. Finally at Cal 3 Todd gave me a tater tot and I ate it and he gave me another and another. He gave me coke and another tot. I knew I had to eat. A woman came over and asked about me and told me that when she is sick she likes ginger ale and saltines. She poured the ginger ale and stirred it to flatten it, she gave me saltines. I did the work of eating them. Another volunteer came over and asked if I would eat Tums. 

At that moment I would do anything. So I ate a pink tum and I left when they told me to.

And just some yards from the aid station I got nauseous again. Todd said I needed to keep moving. I started to run and then I stopped and started throwing up, it was pink tums and bile and tater tots and it was hard, it felt violent inside my body, once more I had the stress incontinence and then my whole body locked up in a cramp and I'm fairly sure I yelled out for help and Todd said he didn't know what he could do. I feel I writhed around a minute until the stomach stopped cramping. 

When I finally got up I was certain I was dead last and based on my pace I knew there was likely no question, I would be pulled at the river. I got more and more exhausted over the next few miles. I stopped listening to music. Todd did a lot of talking and I fought sleep for miles. I felt empty. He kept telling me how good I was going to feel when I got to the track. How proud I would be. How tough I was. He pulled me along. He told me he would carry me if he could and I believed him then and now. I knew it would probably be easier for him to carry me than convince me to carry myself of my own will which there seemed to be none left. I thought he was very soft and kind to me, this is how I knew I was in real trouble. He kept telling me that I needed to keep moving, that he knew I could finish but I had to keep moving forward or I wouldn't make it. 

At one point we had a miserable climb. At one point I thought I saw a snake but it was only a branch. At one point I heard a sound and turned to see an animal on the trail side and I stopped and just looked at it. It didn't look like a fox but I had never seen something quite like it before, I wondered if it was a cougar. These points are in a straight line anymore and I don't really remember them in any order.

Finally, I could hear the river. But I also knew it was still a ways to go to it. Todd said we had to keep moving because he was worried my pace wouldn't get me to Auburn. So I finally said the words I'd been too worried to say, I said I didn't think I could make it, that I needed to stop at Green Gate. I had tried, I had tried beyond my will and I was ready to be done. 

Todd got a bit upset with this, he had been soft and careful up this point but now he got angry and the more he talked the more his voice got upset. I don't remember what he said word for word but the gist was "What are you saying you're going to do? Stop at the river? No one stops at the river. You know you can make it if you make it to the river." I argued that my pace was too slow, I was too depleted and exhausted. He countered, "So what if you don't make it? Wouldn't you rather see how far you can go? Wouldn't you rather go 94 miles trying that to quit at the river and never know?"

This was really very hard. There was a part of me that did want to quit at the river. There was a part of me that believed fully that I would recover from not finishing. But there was a greater part of me, a thankful in that moment part of me that knew how I felt as a crew and pacer at the river when my runner quit without trying to go on. I had to accept that I may not make it but I had to ask myself if I wanted to risk going on or quit without trying. 

Thankfully we weren't at the river quite then, I had a moment to really consider the options at this point. Todd had given me a few honey stinger chews, I hadn't thrown up. I was exhausted but the crew would have caffeine. I knew it would get hot again when the sun came up. I knew that I might get pulled at 94 miles. 

In the end, I decided I would rather risk the feeling I would have of being pulled at mile 94 than risk the feeling I would have dropping at mile 78. I don't think I ever answered the questions Todd posed. I think I finally just came to terms with the fact that I had assembled a crew of people that I knew wouldn't let me do anything but try. 

It did change a little then. It did help that I wasn't nauseous. It did help that I would eat a gummy and wait a few minutes to eat anything else. It wasn't hot, it was the coolest part of the day. My body felt pretty good considering 78 miles so I felt I could possibly run more than I was. I knew that my stomach may turn again or any other number of things, so every mile was a mile further and nothing more. 

Coming into the river we didn't break stride but we just walked over to where they told us how to cross the river and what to expect and they donned us with glow stick necklaces. I'm always impressed by the volunteers in the river. This year particularly it was high and cold when I crossed. It wasn't easy, there were big rocks and it felt hard just like everything else, except that I could hear my friends calling across the river. I couldn't see them but I could hear their voices and I knew they were there for me and that made all the difference. 

There were a lot of them at the river, Scovey, Bethany, Steve, Bailey and Cooper. They said Terri and JP were at the aid station getting my gear ready and that the Kidd family was there too but stuck in their RV with a mountain lion outside. It was like nothing was abnormal to them, they didn't ask why it took me so long to get there. I had to use a rope and climb up from the river and then we started the 1.7 mile hike to the aid station. I knew I wanted dry clothes, I was cold (and gross). Scovey would leave Green Gate with me. There was a lot of chatter and I tried to lose myself in it, I was a little differently focused but the idea of leaving so close to the cut off was making me nervous. The river had awoken me a little but I still needed caffeine. They made plans for me and Todd said I was hiking well especially after the slow miles we had just had. I think the crew being there worked to get me moving a little better. 

I was also watching the pace. I truly didn't believe I could make the finish. But I felt I owed it to my crew that had just spent the night at the river to try. Todd informed Scovey that I had been doing well slowly eating candy. We got to Green Gate at 4:46. The sun was coming up. I got changed while the girls held up towels to hide me and the boys looked the other way. They were never anything but encouraging. Whatever they may have been thinking I never believed for a minute they did anything but believe I could do it. 

I forget the official cut off for Green Gate but we left behind it. We didn't take headlamps. The sun was all but up. I left my music because my apple watch was almost dead. They joked Scovey would sing to me. When we left Scovey was chatty and I feel I was probably a little bit scary. I was quiet. Todd told him I would listen well. I tried to listen well. Scovey laid out a plan, that we would shuffle the easy flats and downs, we would hike the ups. I would eat candy when he told me to. 

Leaving Green Gate and headed to Auburn Lake Trails I was in a brain fog of sorts but over the next few miles the sun and the caffeine pills worked to make me more alert. Thankfully my physical body felt ok and I was able to run some. It was in this first section that I grew hungry and I took that as a good sign. It felt like forever to ALT though. 

By the time we got there I was so hungry. I remember I got a pancake and a breakfast burrito and I turned to look for a place to sit down because I just wanted to sit down so badly when a volunteer came up and looked me right in the eyes and said "You're two minutes over, you can do this but you have to go now."

This stranger looked sad for me, and serious. Scovey and I left with the pancake and burrito. I took a few bites of each and left the rest in the woods. Now that I was fully awake I became a little more aware of how close I was to not doing this thing. I asked Scovey what I needed to run. He did quick math and said basically a 15 minute pace, but he said the course was supposedly the smoothest it is the whole race over the next ten miles. I didn't know if I could but I wanted to run faster to make up the time and not just enough to make it but I wanted to bank ten minutes so I didn't have to sprint the streets of Auburn. I decided I did want to finish, and I didn't want to have to be stressing it in the last mile or two. 

Thankfully the next few miles were as easy as Scovey said they would be. We ran a bit and I was so so thankful how good my legs felt. 

We were coming into Quarry Road and I could hear loud music. As we got closer I could tell it was Paul Simon, my favorite, and not just any Paul Simon but Boy in the Bubble Simon. These are the days of miracle and wonder. Which is nothing if not a song about hope. If I had a high point in that race, it was coming into Quarry Road and hearing this song and seeing that I had picked up 17 minutes to the good in those 5 miles. 

We came into the aid station which was at the bottom of a hill and Scovey asked what I needed and I said I needed ice. He went to take my flask and get ice when a gentleman said to him "No, you can't get ice, Scott can you get ice?" And the sentence made no sense even to me since my pacer's name is Scott so I looked to see who he was talking to and it was Scott Jurek! And then I looked around and saw Hal Koerner and I got all fan girl giddy at this point and was so thrilled that these two WS champions were there to help us at the aid station. However, I was still scared about time so we headed back out quickly but not before Jurek warned us about the turns up ahead.

From Quarry Road to Pointed Rocks the day began to heat up. We still ran a bit but there was a long uphill on a service road that was exposed and I hiked a bit. I didn't remember any of this from my previous run. We ran down to the road crossing at Highway 49 I believe it is and then through a field as we ran on to Pointed Rocks. There was a loud cheering woman in the field, I would have sworn the aid station was closer, and she said there's margaritas at the aid station and then she said she was kidding. It was funny and just a bit bizarre. But I knew the crew would be there, which is almost as good as margaritas. I'm just kidding, my crew was way better than margaritas. 

Coming into the aid station, Scovey knew I would be trying to move through pretty quick so he turned and gave me a high five. We came in to this aid station and I have no idea how because it doesn't really make sense but we now had made up 50 minutes on the cut. I was starting to feel my muscles though, they were a little tight and crampy so I had my crew get my Tiger Balm and I put it on my quads. Then Steve who was leaving with me gave me a banana because of the crampiness but it just tasted like Tiger Balm which isn't a great snack. However, I did get the second half of the banana in.

Steve was all ready to go. They seemed happy that I had picked up the pace, Steve said they hadn't been waiting long at all when I came through. Leaving Pointed Rocks it was downhill through a field to a trail that was a little technical and full of people. I hadn't seen this many people all morning but it made me feel good because I finally, for the first time in hours and hours felt like I was in among the 29ers and could finish this thing.

Steve was maybe overly confident in me. When I picked him up he said that I could run a PR or at least break 29 hours but I would have had to run those 6 miles in like an hour. I didn't have a goal other than finishing at that point. And for the first 2 or so of the 6 miles it went well enough, I was running some and moving ok. He was good company and chatted away. However, by No Hands Bridge it was getting hot even though it was only 9:30 am.

Steve tried to get me to run between shade spots and and I did ok for about 3 minutes but then the heat came back to haunt me. I took to walking and then slower and slower walking. When we finally started the climb to Robie Point I was overheating and getting nauseous again. A runner and pacer who had been behind us caught back up and said that we were doing well and that we had it but we had to keep moving forward. I was surprised by just how badly the heat was kicking my butt at 9:45 in the morning.

We crawled along, Steve continued to remind me to drink and tell me stories and it mostly helped from keeping me with my own thoughts. I was distracted enough that I didn't worry until nearly Robie Point, and even then I knew I was close but it felt much harder than it should have. I told Steve at the aid station I was going to let them soak me.

And that I did. When we got to Robie Point it was uphill to the aid station and then more even after. But I stopped there and let them soak me, they used sponges and just saturated me. Once fully drenched I walked over to the table and looked at my watch, it was 10:15, I had 45 minutes to make it to the track. I asked for a whole can of coke for the road. They opened it and handed it to me. At this point Todd was there and he and Steve and I kept trucking upward and onward to Placer High. Rounding the corner out of the aid station I saw Bill from Ford's Bar and he remembered me! He gave me a big hug and told me he knew I would make it. 

Todd asked if I wanted to run and I told him I needed the coke and I had the time. On the road pieces of our crew assembled, I can't quite remember who was where and when but I know as we walked along we picked up one and then another and another, Bailey, Bethany, Edon, Don, JP, Cooper, Scovey, and all along the way there were cheering onlookers. At one spot there were kids and they sprayed us again with cool water. Near the school there was a deer and her fawn and a lot of people were excited about that. 

Finally, Todd pointed out a roof and said that it was the school and the field house. He asked if I wanted to run and by this point I felt I could again. So I ran. And there were more and more people and they were cheering and so encouraging. There was John and Michelle Anderson and Rosellyn and Terri. So many people. And then the finish line. 29:34:54.

When I crossed the finish line Brazen Racing handed me a special shirt for being part of the 29er club. I was happy I could stop moving forward for a while. I laid on the field. I fell asleep. 

A little later my name was called and I got to go up and get my second Western States buckle, this one is different because it has my name and the year inscribed on the back. 

Take Aways

Part of accepting the day is admitting my failures. I made a lot of mistakes. I made my day hard for myself and my crew. I hate thinking that I am the pain in the ass to crew that Todd always says that I am, but I most definitely was hard to crew, and I apologize to my crew. I am so thankful for each and every one of them, I'm thankful they put up with me, that they came to California with me and that they didn't quit on me even when I quit on me. I think I learned a bit, as corny as it sounds, about love and friendship. It pains me to think how tough I made their day. 

I wanted to be a better runner than I proved myself to be. As hard as my day was all I have thought about since is where I went wrong, what I could have done better what I need to do next. I had a painstakingly bad day. It sucks that the bad day was part of such a long journey, but I made it there and back again. My physical body held up well for the most part considering, and I feel so much better than I expected to post race. 

I should have done more hundreds before going back to States. I should take nutrition more seriously.  I wished I had been stronger physically but in hindsight it was my weaknesses mentally that cost me greatly. 

However, at the end of the day I have to remember that I did finish. I need to take what I can from that and move on.