Greenbrier Ultras 100 mile

 After a rousing success at Rim to River last fall, I was inspired to get back into regular training and set a goal of finishing three 100 mile races this year. I talked to Rebekah Trittipoe about doing another hundred with a generous cutoff. We looked at a few options and selected this one based on the ultrasignup description. It sounded like an excellent option to give Rebekah time to finish, and me an “easier” race to focus on pacing, fueling, and night running without stressing about cutoffs or complex logistics with drop bags or remote locations.

We set out to training and were very consistent for the last few months. I thoroughly enjoyed training with Rebekah-she is such a legend and inspiring on many levels. No wonder she is a coach-it just comes naturally to her. She is always positive and encouraging, and has so much wisdom about both ultrarunning and life in general. It was a gift to train with her.

We drove up to the race on Thursday evening. The race didn’t start until 2pm Friday, but we both figured we’d rather get a good night’s sleep, not worry about early alarms or traffic, and have a relaxing morning before the race. Since the weather forecast was looking cold and wet, we had a little arts and crafts project that night making mylar blankets into ponchos. This was a tip from my friends at the Women’s 100 Miler Project. I was super impressed with how small it folded up, and it weighs almost nothing. Definitely a boost of confidence for a cold night.

 The hotel graciously gave us a late checkout, so after sleeping in (as best we could), repacking our drop bags, and checking the weather forecast a dozen times, we enjoyed some HGTV and general lounging around before heading to the park where the race was held.

The forecast for the race was temps in the 40s and rain for Friday and the first half of Saturday, but then Saturday afternoon it was expected to clear up and warm up to nearly 60. The aid station/headquarters for the race was a very nice 60x20 tent with clear walls, and there were tables for drop bags, plenty of chairs for runners stopping in or crew, and a great aid station setup. We found a spot for our drop bags, chatted a bit with other runners (including my friend Sharlota who had also been at Rim to River), and waited for the prerace meeting, which mainly consisted of the RD telling us about how gentle the trails were and how everyone would have plenty of time to finish. After an understated “go” from the RD we were off.

    

The first 0.2 miles or so was down a paved path, across a few bridges, to a trail. Then there was a fairly steep climb. There was a light steady rain, so all the rocks were slick, but it didn’t seem too bad so far. The course was not especially well marked-at turns there would be a few reflective streamer, but there were almost no confidence markers anywhere on the course. I missed a turn from a prominent wide gravel trail onto a small side trail the first lap and stopped at least five runners from making wrong turns throughout the race. But we did eventually make our way through the course. There were a few short sections of what I would call runnable, not technical trail-but the longest was probably about a half mile and overall, I would say at least half of the loop was very technical. There were no easy miles, no runnable gravel down to the aid station. Without having seen the course but going off the description, I thought two hour loops would be entirely doable throughout the event, including time at the aid station. The loop is only around 7.2 miles. But my first loop, subtracting the time for the wrong turn, still took around 1 hour 40 minutes. Since that was my time on fresh legs, I pretty quickly realized that just finishing by dark the next day (around 29 hours) would be a big accomplishment.

    

So around and around we went. No particular views on the course, just up the rocks, down the rocks, across the creek, across the dam, aid station. Rinse and repeat. Every lap felt a little tougher, especially when it got dark. Some navigational paranoia was always present since I had missed the turn the first lap, and when it got dark it looked different all over again. But I kept on trucking. I changed my socks and shoes repeatedly trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to stave off blisters. The aid station volunteers were very kind and attentive. 

We did have a few hours where the rain had let up, which was very nice. At midnight the 50 mile runners joined the course. Overnight the temperatures got very cold, with snow flurries falling for about two hours. Then shortly after sunrise, a storm rolled in. It warmed up just enough to turn to a hard, cold rain, with winds around 30-40mph, and occasional small hail in the rain. I used that Mylar emergency poncho for about four hours under my rain jacket. I wasn’t toasty, but I wasn’t shivering, even though it was brutally cold and wet. A success I would say. But the rain utterly trashed the already technical and slick course. Rocky hills turned into creeks, the trails were flooded with ankle deep puddles and mud. Around this time the 50K and then 25K runners joined the course. This upped the difficulty for a few reasons: first, we more than doubled the amount of feet tromping through the mud each lap, which quickly ruined any sense of runnability, and second, even though I knew this would happen, I grossly underestimated how discouraging it would be to be passed by fresh spry runners around 300 times. 

    

By this point the race felt like a slog. I was nowhere near my goal pace. I wasn’t enjoying the course. There was very little that was even runnable, even though my legs felt strong. I was sleepy. It was tough.

    

I kept on trucking. Gradually the other runners finished their races and I ran more alone. All day I had been trying to catch up to Rebekah, but she was moving too well for me to make enough ground on her. Finally as I finished my 12th lap (of 14) I found her in the aid station. She had realized that with the course as awful as it was, there wasn’t going to be enough time for her to finish. I knew she was right but I was so disappointed for her, and I felt bad since I had convinced her that she is still strong enough and fast enough to finish another hundred. (She absolutely is, and if this course had been as advertised, or if the weather had been better, she would have finished with no issue.) She decided to do one more lap and then wait for me to finish. We set out together and hiked for a bit before I took off to do my last two laps.

For those last two laps I didn’t even try to run, I just power hiked as quickly as I could. I debated stopping honestly, because I had been more invested in Rebekah’s finish than my own. I decided I may as well finish the thing out. The blisters were bothering me but I just went into all business mode, just power through and get it done. For the last lap I took my headlamps again as I knew it would be getting dark. I had just enough battery left in my phone to play most of a podcast and let Rebekah know when I was approaching the end of the loop. Finally, I emerged from the woods, ran across the dam for the last time, and crossed the parking lot to the finish.

Takeaways

There were some really positive things about this race. I had a wonderful training season with Rebekah. Actual race day, the aid station was very good. The large enclosed tent with room for chairs and drop bags was a very nice race headquarters. The volunteers were kind and attentive, and rotated through a variety of foods throughout the race. If you are going to have crew or pacers, the loop format make the logistics much simpler, and there was a playground and bathroom building right next to the tent. I think the RD meant well with this race. There are several distances to choose from. The race location was easy to get to and there were several hotels and fast food restaurants within 10-15 minutes from the race. I like the buckle design.

Unfortunately, the biggest impression I’m left with is that this was the most deceptive course description I’ve ever come across in any race. If this is meant to be for new, hesitant, or slower runners, there needs to be some significant adjustments in the course. If it’s going to be a technical course, it needs to be advertised as such. Confidence markers would go a long way, and this seems entirely reasonable, especially when there’s only seven miles of trails to mark. There really aren’t any views on the course, just a small lake next to the aid station. Obviously the weather made the course especially tough this year, but it would have been technical with a decent amount of climbing regardless. (I got over 16K feet of climbing, although it’s advertised at 13K.) The race director seemed surprised when people told him it was very technical, but then again, he opened the prerace meeting with some comments about the trails not being technical, don’t argue with him, and there’s no reason why everybody shouldn’t finish. If you want to market a race to less confident runners, you should probably be more in touch with what they would feel is technical.

I went into this race looking for a chance to practice steady pacing, running through the night, and consistent fueling on an “easier” course. It turned out to be one giant exercise in mental training. Keeping negative thoughts at bay. Staying focused on the task at hand when it is not what you expected and isn’t fun. Pushing through running on wet, gritty, blistered feet. Not giving up after being passed hundreds of times. Staying in it while watching your expected time continue to slip by hours. Not quitting at any of the thirteen convenient opportunities to do so. Pushing through brutally cold, wet weather with wind blowing cold rain into your hood and sleeves. And all without being punctuated with the occasional confidence boost of an easy downhill mile or the beauty of a surprise breathtaking view that fills you with joy and energy.

I’m so thankful for training partners, for the ability to run, and for what I learn and improve with each race. Clearly I’ve nailed down more of what I enjoy (and don’t enjoy) about a course. This has me very much looking forward to Fat Dog 120, which I know has incredibly beautiful views and much more runnable trail. And even a tough day on a trail is still a good day.

Rim to River 100

I went into Rim to River feeling less prepared than I ever have for a big race. I only signed up on a whim last New Years Day, and got on the waitlist. Hellbender was supposed to be my big race for the year, this was just icing on the cake. Then I dropped at Hellbender for the hellacious weather, which kind of threw me into a running funk. Between that, and typical summer travel, and heat, when I finally found out in July that I would be running Rim to River in less than four months, I was feeling pretty undertrained and unmotivated.

Between travel, renovating a townhouse, and this general lack of motivation, I struggled to get back into race shape. Finally got a few good long training runs in during October, did strength work a couple times a week, and figured I’d just have to run this one powered by hopes and dreams and good intentions.

During the year I’d fallen in with a group called the Womens 100 Miler Project, a grassroots effort aimed at helping women train for and complete their first 100 miler. Even though I’d run one before, it had been a few years and they graciously let me join, and I was so thankful for their camaraderie. I loosely followed their training plan, modifying what I had been doing, adding more interval work and less but more efficient strength training. As it turns out, Rim to River was the big race for several ladies in the project, and there would be a whole group of them out at the race.  I met the ladies in person for the first time the night before the race and during the hour or so before the race start. So fun to meet the people I had been chatting with for weeks as we made our plans! 

Race start was upon us and it was already an unseasonably warm 65 degrees. The first 27 miles had been billed as fast and easy to underestimate the rest of the course, and I found that to be true. A friend of a friend found me at the start and we ran the bulk of the first half together, occasionally leapfrogging and meeting back up. We passed the miles with great conversation and swapping stories of races we’d both done, and tried to keep ourselves from going out too fast while our legs were fresh. We enjoyed a beautiful sunrise in this section, and some nice views as we ran along the river. We also got to run through ruins of some old mining towns, which was really interesting! I was so grateful for her company through these miles.

By about mile 30, it started to get really hot. There were biting gnats all over the place, and it was in the 80s and sunny. I slowed down because I was feeling really hot and finishing my water at an alarming pace. This was a long section, 12 miles, and I ended up drinking all two liters I had with me before the next aid station. We went out to a really pretty overlook in this section, and there were lots of day hikers and climbers in the area who knew about the race and encouraged us.

I rolled into the mile 43 aid station feeling pretty solid, still ahead of my expected pace even though I had been slowing down for the heat. I saw the group leaders again here, who said everyone was still running hard, even though the heat was making it challenging. I picked up my light and some food and headed out to the turnaround. This is a big out and back section so I got to see a lot of people. One lady from the group was WAY ahead of me, she looked so strong! She went on to finish 8th female as her first 100. Amazing!

Reaching the turnaround was a big milestone, since now we get to be counting down miles instead of counting up! And we knew that we were getting closer to the finish with every step. I ran with several other ladies for this section, as we maneuvered our way back to the previous aid station. It looked so different in the dark, running the opposite direction, that it was hard to spot landmarks even though we’d just been there. Finally we hit the road and ran down to where we crossed the old bridge back to the aid station at mile 58.

I changed my shoes here and headed out alone, losing my buddies at the aid station. I wasńt sure if they had left before or after me, it was so busy and dark there. Off I went into the night. I expected this section, from about 58 to 80, to be the toughest section mentally, between the darkness and the point in the race, late enough to be tired but not almost finished. I intentionally used this section to focus on things I was grateful for: the ability to run and see these beautiful places, the rain that had cooled things off, the nearly full moon lighting the sky, the cheerful volunteers at the aid stations, my husband and kids who support my running, the financial means to buy shoes and race entries and hotel rooms at the start, my local running community I train with, this new running community who had welcomed me with open arms, arriving at the start healthy…there was no shortage of things to be thankful for and this kept me in good spirits during this section. There is something so quietly peaceful about running through the woods at night. 

I was happy to arrive at mile 80. I got some food & drink and then promptly alarmed some volunteers when I lost said food into the nearby bushes, but assured them it wasn’t the first time and I was fine. I sat down for a few minutes with some mashed potatoes that I dumped a bunch of salt in, and let my stomach settle for a bit to get some food down. I knew I still had twenty miles to go and needed the calories more than I needed the minutes I’d save. Once I’d eaten some potatoes and enjoyed some Dr Pepper from my drop bag, I thanked the volunteers and headed out.

Less than six miles later we hit the next aid station, and here the real countdown started. Next would be sunrise, then the last aid station, then the finish! However, I majorly underestimated how tough these last 15 miles would be. My legs still felt pretty good, but the trails were more rocky and more uphill than I was expecting. It seemed like I’d run for just a short bit before encountering a large rooty section that I just didn’t have the agility to skip over anymore, or a short and steep climb. I did see a beautiful sunrise in this section, and cheerful volunteers at the last aid station. And then I saw one volunteer and his dog three times as we ran in crazy circles past the finish, then around the finish over and over. I must have seen/heard the finish line five different times. This was a bit maddening and a big mental challenge to stay focused and positive. On the final section of trail, I passed a runner and his pacer and commented about how we just need to get off this trail and onto the road to the finish, and the pacer glumly said, “I don’t think it’s possible. We’ve been running in circles for nine miles. I don’t think there’s a way out.”

Of course, there was a way out, and we finally hit the road. I knew from here it was only about a half mile downhill to the finish, so I took off and ran as hard as I could to the bottom. I finished a little over 29 hours which I was very happy with. The first finisher from our group was already there, and one of the coaches, and a few others. It was so special to have people cheering my name at the finish when I had traveled there alone! I was not expecting how sweet it would be to still have a community of people cheering for me and swapping stories of the day at the finish line…I love that part of our local races and thought I’d just be a lone duck at this one, but it turns out I didn’t have to be. Such a gift!

I got to stay at the finish line and cheer for so many more ladies from the group who finished, including one who finished with less than a minute to spare!! Such an incredible moment at the finish. The entire campground just erupted into cheers as she made it across the finish line. I’m so glad I got to see that! It was a huge moment for the group and those ladies who have been training together all year. They are amazing!

This race was such a great experience. The course was beautiful and the volunteers were fantastic, but the best part was the unexpected gift of this Womens 100 Miler Project community. As I’m looking at next year’s race calendar, I’m definitely looking for more opportunities to run with those amazing ladies. I can’t wait to see them tackle more courses-some to finally get that first 100 mile finish, some to get another, all of them showing grit and determination and heart. I am so grateful for running and the communities I get to be a part of!

Meeting everyone prerace

Prerace meeting with race director

Go time!

Start line

Sunrise

Creek crossing

Running along the river

One of several waterfalls

View from one of the bridges

One of the bridges we crossed

Entering the old mining town

They thought we were crazy

Therés the big bridge

Selfie time

Headed over the old bridge to the turnaround

Famous view of the New River Gorge bridge

Yes, that is the finish…but we are 6.5 miles from being done

I made it!

Group finish line photo

My swag

Garmin finally thinks Ím productive!

Ten years of ultrarunning

 “Kim Weatherford? What?? I never gave you a chance to finish!!”

Those were Dr. Horton’s words as I reached the finish line of the Hellgate 100K in 2015, my first attempt at running the race. I was just as surprised as he was that I managed to complete that very challenging race, seeing less than fifteen minutes remaining in the 18 hour time limit. Ultrarunning is a series of explorations where we try to find our limits and push back at them. That first Hellgate brought the highest highs and lowest lows of any race I’ve ever done. It was every bit of challenge, suffering, and satisfaction you hope for in a race. I didn’t imagine I’d ever do it again.

But then one day in 2017, my mind wandered, and I calculated that if I completed both races every year, I could complete 10 Promise Lands and 5 Hellgates before I turned 40.

Both races are David Horton specials, with lots of tough climbs and beautiful scenery. Promise Land 50K was my first real ultra. I had technically done Holiday Lake first in 2012, but between being grossly undertrained and mildly injured, there was very little running involved. When I showed up at the start of Promise Land 2012, I saw it as my first ultra. That year did not disappoint. Beautiful 50 degree temps gave way to a surprise temperature plummet, with hail, lightning, freezing rain, and 30 degree temps for the climb up Apple Orchard Falls and the five mile descent to the finish. It felt crazy, wild, dangerous, and exhilarating. I arrived at the finish feeling like I had really accomplished something, that I was stronger than I thought. I wanted more.

So I kept running. I ran various races over the years, but Promise Land was the one that I kept coming back to, the one race that I ran consistently every year. It was like homecoming every year, with new friends and old, the course feeling homey and familiar no matter the weather.

A stress fracture in my foot and Covid conspired so that I missed Hellgate in 2019 and then Promise Land 2020 was cancelled. The goal was accordingly revised to finishing 10 Promise Lands and 5 Hellgates the year I was 40.

In December I finished my 5th Hellgate with a huge PR and earned my coveted Eagle trophy. And yesterday, I finished my 10th Promise Land.

In appropriate fashion, it did not come easily. Our first day this year over 80 degrees (a few days ago we had an overnight freeze), the temps hit 86 in the afternoon, plus humidity. The weather was clear and the trees are just getting their leaves, so many portions of the course were exposed and sunny. Especially tough when we trained in 40 degree weather for months. I felt like I was running strong and well, but my watch showed that I wasn’t moving as fast as I’d expect for the effort. Still, my legs felt strong, I was able to pace myself well, avoid cramps, and never feel dead. I didn’t hit my goal time, but it wasn’t my worst time ever. I earned my ten time finisher polo.

After a few years of covid cancellations and modifications, it was a joy to sit around the camp at the finish with friends, sharing stories of the day, and cheering for those who were coming in. Everyone had to work hard for a finish yesterday. And the volunteers had their own stories to share of what they’d seen. So good to see Rhonda, Blake, Sam, Todd, Alexis, Bailey, Chelsie, Gina, Alissa, David, Mike, Wade, Caroline, Helen, Rebekah, and so many more. Congratulations to those of you who finished and thank you to those who volunteered!!

Ultrarunning has given me a chance to accomplish things that went from sounding outlandish, to improbable, to possible. I’ve learned and passed on lessons to my kids about perseverance, problem solving, consistency, and goal-setting. I’ve processed life events with friends out on the trails. We’ve walked (and run) through aging parents, broken relationships, injuries, disease, moves, new babies, job shifts, children growing up, and countless smaller events. We’ve run through 95 degree humidity and wind chills below zero, through thunderstorms, blizzards, and ice storms, through mountain creeks and past countless waterfalls. We’ve seen gorgeous sunrises, countless deer, several cows and horses, and a handful of bears, owls, and foxes. We’ve taken in the beauty of the world around us and encouraged each other that no matter what life throws at you, it never always gets worse.

I’m so grateful that I get to run, that I get to be a part of this community, that I have the support of my husband and children, and that I live in such a beautiful place. Here’s to celebrating a decade of ultrarunning, and hoping for many more.

Hellgate finisher pic with Dr. Horton

Eagle trophy for 5 Hellgates

Apple Orchard Falls (mile 29ish of Promise Land)

Promise Land stairs

Party at Promise Land finish

Promise Land finish line photo

Some of our running community

Unofficial squirrel trophy

Handmade squirrel trophy

Hellgate 100K-pandemic edition

Hellgate will always be a very special race. I wanted to run the race again but this was 2020. After months of everything being cancelled, it was hard to know if the race would even happen. Dr. Horton put out the applications before he heard back about the permits being secured. On the one hand, all our travel was cancelled so my long runs were very consistent this year. Ran 14-15 every weekend during the summer, and upped it to 20+ mile long runs in the mountains, usually a loop of a section of the Hellgate course plus the AT or some other trails, every weekend, and building up my back-to-back run to about 15 miles. On the other hand, it was hard to be mentally/emotionally invested in training for a race that may end up cancelled. I ran a lot of long runs alone for the first time when my running buddies succumbed to various injuries, illnesses, and schedule conflicts. I cautiously held out hope that the race would still happen and it would be a highlight in a difficult year.

To my delight, my application was accepted by the race committee. I continued to run many training runs on the course. I started to feel bad about all the downed trees I was reporting when I had only made it out for a few hours of trail work to help. My friend Helen decided she was going to run the race again as well and we ran several long training runs together when our schedules lined up.

A few days before the race, our governor announced he'd be implementing additional restrictions in light of the covid-19 pandemic. We all held our breaths for his announcement, and let out a huge sigh of relief when the midnight-5am curfew would not be implemented until Sunday night/Monday morning so the race could still go on. 

Image credit: https://www.instagram.com/jimmie.rhoades/

Friday arrived and my friend Freda gave me a ride to camp. It was such a strange atmosphere this year. We had check-in, and then dinner was a boxed dinner to go. There were dozens of cars already there but I only saw a few people. Everyone was spread out eating in their cars, at outdoor picnic tables, or in the scattered tables in a few buildings that were open. We all wore masks in buildings (except eating & drinking) and spread out. Normally the prerace dinner packs everyone into Camp Bethel's lodge, with runners piling onto couches and chairs, surrounded by crew and volunteers. This year we were spread out, wearing masks, in a huge gym. Not everyone attended. It felt very different and a little sad, as grateful as I was that we were still having the event.

One highlight of the prerace meeting was giving Dr. Horton a chainsaw. He had made a facebook post after a day of trailwork wishing for a battery operated chainsaw. On a training run, Helen and I brainstormed how we could make it actually happen. She emailed the runners and people were super generous, so collectively we gave him the saw, an extra battery, and the charger, plus a little extra to buy some safety gear (hopefully). He was so excited! That was a pretty great moment.

Most of the prerace meeting we discussed things we needed to do differently this year-have a mask or gaiter for aid stations, the start, and inside buildings, lots of individually packed food at aid stations, volunteers wearing gloves & masks, temperature check, not congregating in big groups, staggered start, etc. in addition to the normal information about the course and the people who make the race happen.

After the prerace meeting, I would normally hang around and chat nervously with other runners. This year was kind of weird, so while I did talk to people for about 15 minutes, after that people started to disappear. My friends who were driving me to the start weren't planning to arrive until closer to 11, so I took the opportunity to lie down with my eyes closed for an hour or two. I couldn't really sleep but I was hoping to fool my brain and body into thinking I was just getting up for another early morning run. Around 10:30 I started getting my race clothes on, chatting with a few other ladies who were around, second-guessing wardrobe choices. We knew it would be a warm year but we also knew that there was no crew access at Petite's this year, so whatever we wore at the start we would be carrying with us for the first 25 miles. 

Missy and Mary arrived at the camp. I was so excited to have them (and later Tabitha) crewing me during the race. We had run together a lot over the spring and summer but in the fall we had just been eating together. Mary braided my hair, we found Helen, and we all headed to the start. I'm pretty sure I had packed enough food to fill in for a missing aid station for all runners if the need arose.

The normal festivities of singing "O Holy Night" and the national anthem were reserved for the first 25 runners, so we waited in the car at Natural Bridge until it was a few minutes out from our 12:21 start time. One last chance to grab a jacket and snap a picture and we headed over. When Dr. Horton called our names we came around the gate, and then at 12:21 we headed out. It was different to have a quieter start with only 25 people, but I kind of liked that most people were running a similar pace to me. I felt like I was going out a bit faster than I intended but I was excited about the race and the 40ish degree weather. The puddles had dried up quite a bit from the previous week so while we still got our feet wet, it was less and also not so cold. Before I knew it we were coming out to AS1 and heading up the road.

The climb up to Petite's Gap made me really appreciate the wave start. Every other year I've been in the last few runners, looking up at the stream of lights headed up the hill. That was still there, but for the first time, I got to look down and see lights following me up the mountain. What a cool view!

The weather was perfect as we ran. I felt great. Helen and I made it to the top of Petite's Gap about 12 minutes faster than we had the previous week on our training run, which was a boost of confidence. I felt strong. I spent the time talking with other runners, enjoying the night, marveling at the moon and the stars, and just being so grateful to be healthy enough to run and to have the opportunity to run an in-person race for the first time in 15 months.

Our little group of runners started to thin out on the grassy road and I found myself running longer sections alone. Climbing up Overstreet Creek road a bit later, I was kicking myself for never finishing my Hellgate master course info document I've had in the works for years now. How long is this climb? A mile? Two? I was hoping to arrive shortly after 6:00 and surprisingly did, somewhere around 6:10 or 6:15. I wasn't far off my fastest year and I was noticeably ahead of where I had been the last time I ran Hellgate. At Floyd's Field I saw my crew for the first time. It's such a gift to have friends willing to drive around the mountains all night long to support you running a race!

After Floyd's Field I didn't see another runner until the last bit before coming into Jennings Creek. That's how it would be the rest of the day-I'd see maybe a runner or two between each aid station. We had certainly accomplished our goal of spreading out runners more than normal. Also, normally this section down to Jennings Creek is mostly in the dark for me, but thanks to the delayed start, I got to run a fair bit of it in daylight. That was a welcome change. (Although, sad note-because it was daylight when I arrived I didn't get to see the inflatable unicorn lit up. Gotta get faster.)

Although I had brought music, I found myself not even wanting to listen to it. I just enjoyed being outside. Here I was in the middle of the race and it was still hard to believe we were actually running in person. So much of the year I really thought it would end up cancelled. In a weird way, I almost felt guilty that it didn't when so many other important events did get cancelled this year. But I was very grateful. Grateful to be in a race, grateful to have good weather, grateful that my foot was healed enough from last year's stress fracture to run, grateful for seeing so many friends at aid stations and on the course. The section from Jennings to Little Cove is my favorite section of the race, when I feel like I could run forever, and this year I just relished running and the whole experience there.

The day plodded along without a lot of remarkable events-I felt pretty good. I had an amazing crew. The aid station volunteers were wonderful and it was super convenient to have everything already in little baggies to go. The only real hiccup was a nasty stumble in the devil trail where I smashed a few toes hard. Otherwise I just kept running. I wasn't on my record pace, but I was running very well, only a few minutes off my fastest time. The miles were rolling by relatively easily. If I kept it up, had a banner day and never slowed down, I knew it was possible to break 17 hours, but that admittedly wasn't a super strong motivation, just a curiosity of whether I could ever do it. I really wanted to finish in 17:30 or less, but most of all, enjoy the day.

I came into Bearwallow around 11:45-a strong time for me-and my husband and kids were there. Such a great encouragement to see them out there!! I hope someday my kids will want to do a trail race with me. My crew was there too, and Tabitha joined me to run from there. Company! It was so nice to have conversation the rest of the race after a lot of miles without even being able to see another runner ahead of or behind me.

This section is usually where I start to feel tired, and this was no exception. Some of those climbs are short and steep. I was so glad for the training run where I realized that, to my surprise, this section is only about 6 miles. It feels so much longer on tired legs. But we just kept moving, and Tabitha kept talking to me, and sure enough, we eventually crossed over the ridge and headed down to the road to Bobblets.

At Bobblets Mary joined us too. I thoroughly enjoyed running with these ladies through the forever section. I was getting tired and it really did kind of feel like forever. It was starting to get warm (65ish and sunny), which wasn't the hottest it's been out there but exaggerated the tired feelings a bit. But even though I was getting tired and slowing down, I still felt strong. Nothing really hurt, and my legs felt pretty good. Just getting tired. This is the first time I've run this race that even in this forever section, I was feeling pretty confident that I was going to finish. 

Rolling into Day Creek, I got to see Missy again. Last time! I really tried to enjoy the last climb up and the road down, remembering other reports of this being a victory lap of sorts. Around the gate, a mile done. Raised a glass to the Blackhorse Tavern as we passed by. Come around the corner to see the gate at the top and the parkway. Such a gift to be out there running and the day was just beautiful. Looking out over the mountains as we climbed and the first part of the descent-we live in such a gorgeous state.

The sun was setting on our way down from the parkway, so we still only had to run a few miles in the dark. Even though I had walked pretty much the entire last climb, I felt good enough to run the last few miles (with a few walking breaks and some encouragement from Mary and Tabitha). We turned the corner into the camp, ran what felt like another eight miles through the camp (I know it's really only a quarter mile or so), and finally, there was the finish line! Dr. Horton was there, my family was there, a few other people I knew-and I finished in 17:28. I was so tired and so excited! It felt good to finish with time to spare, not worried about cutoffs, and to beat my goal. 

Every year I've managed to shave just a few minutes off. 17:45, then 17:40, then 17:34, now 17:28. Every year a PR. This year was pretty much perfect-the course was in fabulous shape. Dr. Horton had cleared every single downed tree we found. The water level was down. No ice. Temps above freezing the whole day. I even had more daylight with the late start. And my training had gone well-I didn't miss any long runs at all and had run 20+ every weekend since Labor Day. If I can't break 17 hours with everything going well, that may just be out of my league. But that's okay. This is a crazy hard race even with 18 hours. And I'm so grateful to be back out here running.

Thank you to Dr. Horton, for all the work he put in this year, which sounds like even more than a normal year. Thank you to Barry & Camp Bethel for all the work to host the race and make all the accommodations needed in a pandemic year. Thank you to the volunteers who kept the aid stations open for hours longer than other years, and who were so encouraging and helpful all day. Thank you to my training buddies and crew: Freda, Mary, Missy, Tabitha, and Helen for all the support and encouragement and miles shared. Thank you to my family for coming out to the aid station and to the finish-you will always be my favorite people to see at a race. 

I'm so thankful for another chance to be part of this very special race. One more finish to get my eagle trophy. Here's to Hellgate 2021!