50th Running of the Western States 100
Whew. What do you say about Western Freaking States?? I’m not really sure how to sum up all my feelings about this race, but I guess I’ll try.
For starters, I feel just incredibly lucky and grateful to have had the opportunity. Like most people in our sport, running Western has been a goal for me for years and years, it took me 7 years in the lottery to finally get in. I honestly never thought I’d get in. In fact I was in a dive bar on Tybee Island drinking a Bloody Mary from a styrofoam cup the morning of the lottery. We were celebrating Tim’s birthday, I had a broken ankle, and I wasn’t paying a bit of attention until my phone started blowing up. Then it finally dawned on me that it was Lottery Day! I got in! And I’m on a knee scooter. Ugh. I can’t run THE race of all races. I can’t even walk. So that’s how it started. A month later, I finally got to start putting weight on my leg. I hadn’t walked in almost 3 months and it was TOUGH. It hurt every little nerve ending in my foot to touch the ground. All the muscles in my leg and foot had atrophied. I had been so excited for that day, and while it was really exciting, it also made me realize just how much work I had in front of me. I spent the next couple months in physical therapy several times a week figuring out how to walk normally again. I finally started some run/walks about 4 months out from race day. In 4 months I was able to figure out how to run again, and I was able to build up enough fitness to get to line up in Olympic Valley on race morning.
I couldn’t believe I was there. I looked around me and saw every ultra running celebrity you can imagine. I had major imposter syndrome. I had no idea how the day would go, but I was so excited to be exactly where I was. I couldn’t stop crying happy tears waiting for the fun to go off. When it finally did, I very quickly found myself in a rough spot. The escarpment is steep, and about a mile in, it was covered in ice and snow. I’m from Georgia. We don’t have ice and snow. I was a total mess trying to figure out how to stay upright and to keep moving forward. The snow continued over the next 25-30 miles, and I fell probable 30-40 times. At one point I was scanning the horizon for the next flag to aim for and all I saw on all sides of me were runners flat on their backs in the snow. It was absolute chaos. Everyone was falling and sliding and knocking each other over. I didn’t know what to do except laugh out loud. After the longest 30 miles of my life, I finally made it to my crew at Robinson Flat, and I lost it. I cried my eyes out. I sat long enough to change my shoes and refill my pack, crying the whole time. I was emotionally DRAINED. And I still had 70 miles to go. I was in a real dark place. The only comfort I had was that we were finally past the snow. At least it was dirt under my feet now.
“Making that turn onto the track was one of the best moments of my running life.”
The long descent after Robinson Flat helped put a little wind in my sails, and I started to feel a bit more hopeful…just in time to drop into the canyons. Boy, that climb up to Devil’s Thumb is a doozy. It’s roughly a 30-40% grade for 2 miles straight in the blaring sun. It’s character building for sure, and it took any positive thoughts I had right out of my head. After reaching the top, I actually called Tim and cried some more and told him how hard this race was. I was in an even lower place than before and I still had more canyons ahead of me. By the time I reached Michigan Bluff where I saw my crew again, I was in about the lowest place I’ve ever been in in a race. I allowed myself a 5 min sit here to regroup and collect myself. During that time, one of my coaches, Pat, came over to chat and I cried and told him how hard the course is and whined about my rough day. He looked at me and told me that OF COURSE it’s hard, it’s the biggest, most important race in North America. He told me that this is where I have to get gritty. That I’ve finished harder things, and that I have to be tough. Something clicked in my head after that. Honestly I think I was a bit embarrassed about my whining. But I decided right then and there to turn it around and to start running like I was getting to run the race I’ve been dying to run for years.
Over the next 7-8 miles, I actually started to enjoy the day. I started to look around and soak in the environment I was in, and I started having a little bit of fun. I was actually smiling when I rolled in to Foresthill, and I think my whole crew let out a sigh of relief. I picked up my first pacer, one of my best friends Holly, and we set out together with a whole new outlook on the day. We chatted and laughed and giggled. We picked up the pace and we passed lots of people on our way to the river. It was a really fun section! Finally getting to Rucky Chucky was such a huge milestone in the race for me, and I was beyond excited to be there. The boat ride was quick, but one of my absolute favorite parts of the day. Holly and I laughed the whole way across!On the other side of the river, we met my other best friend, Rebecca, about half way up to Green Gate, and we the three of us got to share the trail together for that last mile or so, and I knew then that the day would be fine after that. Rebecca and I set out from Green Gate on a mission. We were out there to have the strongest finish I could possibly muster. She dubbed it the ‘no regrets’ section. We set out to see how many people we could pass, and we leap frogged with a few girls over the next several miles, finally making our big move as we entered Pointed Rocks.
We blew right through the aid station and charged across No Hands Bridge, passing 4-5 people with only a couple miles to go. She called ahead to the crew to let them know we weren’t stopping at Robie Point. We didn’t want anyone passing us back. She led the charge up the final climb and I followed, pushing as hard as I possibly could, absolutely dying to see that track. We finally made it to the pavement at the top, and I looked back and no one was behind us. We did it! We picked up the rest of my crew for the last half mile or so, all running together towards the finish line I thought might never come earlier in the day.
Making that turn onto the track was one of the best moments of my running life. I of course started crying yet again, but this time with very happy tears. I looked around and tried to soak in everything I was seeing as I made my way around the track I’ve seen so many times in pictures and videos. This time it was in real life though, and I was about to finish Western Freaking States. It was incredible! Just 4 months before, I could barely walk, and I just finished 18th female at Western States in under 24 hours. Hands down, the best way to come back from injury is at the race of a lifetime!
