After 34 hours and 27 minutes, I crossed the finish line of the 2018 Run Rabbit Run 100 miler. It was my third 100 miler finish, and I give all the credit to my husband for this one. Back in 2011, I ran my first ultra, the Dirty Thirty 50k. I was massively under-trained, and had no idea how difficult the 50k was that I had signed up for. For the entire second half of that race I told myself I would drop at the next aid station, but I would get there and convince myself to keep going. Getting myself to that finish line felt like a huge victory. I may have been nearly DFL (which is a colorful acronym for the last finisher), but I was still a finisher. Since that race I have never once considered quitting a race. Even at my first 100 miler, hobbling along in horrible pain with a sprained ankle the last 36 miles, quitting never crossed my mind. This weekend, I wanted to quit. I told Josh several times that I was done, but he wouldn’t hear it. He knew that my body was fine, and he got me to the finish.

Everything was going well until nightfall. I spent the last section of daylight cruising along the Flash of Gold trail with my teammate Brad. The sun began to set and the golden aspen leaves were absolutely glowing all around us. We stopped a few times just to take it all in, with a lot of “ooh”, and “wow”, around every corner. As the sun dropped to the horizon, the clouds and wildfire smoke bloomed pink and orange, all the leaves were electric, and the glow cast over a meandering river in the distance.  It was the highlight of the race, and Brad and I agreed that it may have been the most beautiful thing we have ever witnessed on a run. Too bad things went downhill after that.

Once it was dark we hit a section of trail switchbacks going down, down, down, to the Dry Lake aid station. I was starting to feel a little nauseous, which I thought was strange, because I’ve never had stomach issues before in a race. Josh, Ellen and my coach Cindy were waiting at Dry Lake, and gave me food, refilled my water, and sent me on my way. It would be another 6 miles before I could pick up a pacer, so I headed back out on the trail with Brad and we stayed together until the Olympian Hall aid station where Ellen joined me for the next 20 miles. The Spring Creek trail is a nice easy downhill, and my nausea seemed to improve.

Heading out of Olympian for the 14 mile loop around Emerald Mountain, I was doing okay. We were running in the middle of the pack, so there were lots of other people and lights around. Ellen and I were chatting away. My stomach wasn’t great, but I was still eating and otherwise feeling strong. Then the course descended down Emerald Mountain in a never-ending set of switchbacks, followed by even more switchbacks, weaving back and forth down to the Olympian aid station. By this point, eating anything sounded horrible. We headed across downtown Steamboat and started the climb back up to Dry Lake. Ellen said it was like a switch. I was chatting and fine, and then suddenly my pace dropped, I stopped talking, and I looked horrible. Incredibly nauseous and certain I would vomit, I was disoriented, exhausted, and wanted to stop and lay down. For the first time in a long run, my brain was wrecked. Normally, the longer I run the better I feel, but navigating turn after turn after turn on all those switchbacks by headlamp had been way too much for my brain to handle.

As we neared Dry Lake, the sun began to come up, and Ellen ran ahead to get Josh. He came out for me and helped me into the aid station where I laid down on his coat, curled up in a ball with my hands clutching my head and everything spinning. I wanted to tell everyone to be quiet, and just let me crawl into my hole and hide. Josh told me I could have 5 minutes, and then we needed to get going. I had a few choice words lined up, but didn’t have the energy to say them. I just shook my head and said “no, I’m done”. Running ultras is 90% mental, and that other 10% is mostly mental as well. I knew I could finish the race, but I no longer wanted to. My brain was wrecked and I didn’t care about the finish anymore. When your mental game has cracked, things get pretty ugly out there.

Josh told me he didn’t get dressed up for nothing, and I needed to get up. Ellen, Coach Cindy, and Josh shoved broth and food into me, and kicked me to the curb. Not even 100 yards from the aid station, I came around a tree to find a bull moose standing a few yards away. My brain was so slow at that point that all I processed was “dangerous big brown thing, ack!” It took a minute to realize that it was a moose. He snorted at us, and walked off the trail in no big hurry.

So began the 30 mile death march to the finish. Smoke from a nearby wildfire rolled over the course that morning, and to add insult to injury, even with my inhaler I was wheezing like crazy on the uphills. We arrived at Billy’s aid station, and I told Josh I wanted to drop. We arrived at Summit Lake aid station, and I told Josh I wanted to drop. Every time he wouldn’t allow it. He kept telling me that my legs were fine and I could keep moving. Even as we slogged down the trail, I kept stopping to sit down. All I wanted was to lay down and go to sleep. Experiencing brain fatigue in a 100 miler was a whole new level of suffering. Because I felt so horrible, I wasn’t eating much as I should, and that was making things worse than they already were.

Finally, after the never-ending climb back up to the Mt. Werner aid station was over, and all we had left was 6 miles and 3,000′ down the mountain to the finish, Josh announced that he wanted to finish before 6:30pm. I was beyond annoyed, I was fuming. This was MY race, and he already made me keep going when I wanted to stop, and now he had the nerve to tell me after already covering 100 miles, now we were going to run 10 minute miles for the next 6 miles?????? Then he reminded me that two years ago I could barely walk at this point in the race, but we were going to miss the time cutoff, and I somehow willed my body to run down the mountain and finish.  This time, my body was fine, and I knew he was right. So we ran, and I realized that my brain actually started feeling better at a faster pace. My feet hurt, but my legs were solid. We made it to the finish at 6:27pm, after 34 hours and 27 minutes, and I had the chance to run across the finish line with my nephew, all because my husband knew I could keep going.

After the last two 100 milers I experienced significant cognitive improvement. The first time lasted 4 days, and last year it went on for 10 days. Unfortunately, after completely cooking my brain that is not the case this time. I actually felt pretty awful Monday, and because I haven’t been able to tolerate being on the computer for very long, this post has taken several days to write. Physically, however, this is the best I have felt after 100 miles, and it is frustrating to think I could have pushed my body much harder if my mental game had been intact. In hindsight, I wonder if I had napped for 30 minutes, if I could have turned things around. It is possible that allowing my brain more time to reset would’ve led to a faster finish time, but there is no way to go back and give it a try. Regardless, I finished my third 100 miler, and the time really doesn’t matter, and I’m never doing another one, ever.

That evening, back at the condo, I asked my nephew if he wanted to run 100 miles. He responded with, “Maybe, if they pay me $100.” I told him, “Well nobody paid me, and in fact, I had to pay $300 to run this race.” He stared at me for a minute, and then said, “You had to pay $300 to run 100 miles, and all you got was a buckle? That seems really stupid”. We were all dying laughing, because wiser words have never been spoken. Now it is time for rest, recovery, and FOOD! Can you say pizza?