Endures-a-lot

While walking through the airport on our way home from the race in Utah, Todd asked what my new name was going to be, for you don't run a 100 miles and not get a new nick-name. Using the two cylinders that my brain was functioning on, I came up with "Endures-a-lot". "Oh, you're a Carebear?" Good point. When I get back my regular cognitive skills, I will come up with a better name. Starting a week before the race, I started keeping an eye on the weather. I was so happy to see that we would be having ideal weather on Antelope Island the days of my race - high of 50 low of 40 and sunny. It was going to be perfect, but every time I checked the weather thereafter, it got progressively worse. The forecast was predicting rain, snow, high of 40 low of 28...great. I've obviously run in colder weather than that, but not for this long, plus I would rather run in snow that would stick to the ground than in rain that will drench you and your clothes all day.

Friday morning I awoke to harsh winds and large clumps of snowflakes falling, fast and hard. Great! I prayed, asking for some help on the weather, but my faith was low. Me and my desires of good weather for this race were insignificant to the thoughts and workings of the Lord. I tried to stay positive, and packed dry clothes into each of my four drop bags (Drop bags are bags you put together that are put at selected aid stations throughout the race, this way you can have clothes or special nutrition or whatever you desire at different points of the race).

Driving out to Antelope Island was not reassuring at all. There was a lot of snow, so much that visibility was compromised. The snow was not sticking to the ground, but was rather just making everything wet. I was about to attempt something that was insanely difficult, then add on the weather... I was having my doubts. My last few minutes of cellular service, I called my kids. They said their regular "I love you"s, then got off the phone in favor of something more entertaining, but just hearing their little voices gave me strength and calmed my soul.

I got to the main tent in time to hear the last of the instructions from the race director. Originally there were 54 people signed up to race the 100 miles, but I think there were only about 40 racers. I think the weather was deterring several less-commited runners.

Our start time was noon, so a few minutes before then everyone gathered to a little line drawn onto the ground by a stick, it was our starting line. I found Carol, we hugged, greeted, and got ready. We looked around for Kris, but couldn't find him anywhere. Finally just a minute before the start, Kris comes up with his bags.

The countdown started and then the racers were off. Carol and I sped walked as we waited for Kris to get ready and catch up with us. As we started running, the wind and snow died down, which we were grateful for, but then we all had to remove a layer of clothing. When running ultras, unless you're an elite (which I am not, I know you're surprised by this) you have to walk as well as run. Most ultra runners will walk up and down every hill, and incorporate walking into the other times as well. I had read that some people will run a minute every mile while some will run for 20 minutes and walk for 10 minutes. Going into the race I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I knew that if I wanted to last the entire race, I would need to do something.

Here's a map of our race. We did the fifty mile course twice.

Miles 1-19

Carol, Kris, and I started up our first mountain, walking, and removing our top jackets. I was excited to be on this adventure, to have it started. After trekking up the first mountain, we were running on top of a trail on the mountain. It was gorgeous. To the left was the Great Salt Lake, and even though the island isn't too far from the mainland, it felt like we were on another continent. The trails were pretty nice, and I was so grateful to be on trails again. I love trail running, but am not able to do much of it since I live in suburbia.

The snow did make the trails quite muddy, we were slipping around, getting mud stuck to the bottom of our shoes, and getting rocks in our shoes. I was wishing I had purchased some gaiters (they go around your ankle and cover the top of your shoe to prevent anything getting inside. Every once in a while I would accidentally splash my foot in a big puddle, causing my foot to be wet and cold, but luckily I had read that if you wear a pair of nylons under your socks, they will soak up the water and sweat, also preventing blisters. It seemed to work, for I got my feet wet a lot, but the wetness didn't seem to last too long.

We ran over the hill and down the west side of the mountain into White Rock. Gorgeous does not even describe this place. We could see the shoreline, we were running on a beautiful trail, it was a little windy, not too sunny, but the temperature was just right. I felt so much joy to be running, felt very free. We started ascending again and when we came around a corner there was a lady clapping her hands.

We were at the first aid station, Elephant Head. We had run 5.5 miles. It was the coolest aid station. On top of this mountain was this tent, flapping in the wind, in the middle of nowhere. I felt like we had just reached Everest. From that aid station we had to do one out and back and one loop. We chose to do the out and back first. The aid station volunteer had told us that the out and back was 1.7 miles. It was on top of a mountain, the trail went over some rocks, and there was a lot of ups and downs. It was great, but halfway out I started wondering when and where it was going to end, for it should have already ended. We finally turned a corner and came to a the edge of the mountain. At the end was a bucket with a sheet of stickers inside that we were to put onto our bib numbers to verify that we had gone all the way out (very high tech, I know). Turns out it was 1.7 miles one way, that explained why it felt as if it went on forever.

We made it back to the aid station, and while Carol and Kris sat and grabbed some more food, I started out for the loop. I came to an intersection and wasn't sure of where to go, and decided to stay closer to the mountain. I ran for a few minutes then I realized that I hadn't seen any footprints. I kept my eyes out for them, and when I came across a part in the trail that was totally covered in snow without even one foot print in it, I knew that I had made the wrong choice. I turned around and met up with Carol and Kris where I had gone wrong. We ran down into a valley, then after a about a mile, we started heading up a mountain. This mountain was really high, and we went up switchbacks the whole way. Some of the trails were right on the edge, so I hoped that I wouldn't make any swaying motions that would send me down.

At one point I remember looking at my watch and thinking, "Wow, it's only been two hours...I'm going to be out here for another good 20 hours....that's a long time", but I tried to not think about it too much. It was too mountainous to try thinking of running that long or that far, I had to just think about the moment, while preparing myself to continue a long ways after the present.

Going up the mountain was beautiful, it was fun, and our spirits were high. I kept feeling like we were in a scene of Lord of the Rings, as the group is traveling up those mountains and such. We decided that Kris was Gandolph the White, for he is so wise, so kind, and is a little bit of a witch doctor.

Carol was Aragorn, for she is tough and can kick any one's trash (I'm scared of her)...plus she's royalty.

and I was Legolas maybe because I like to think I have good hair, or am devoted. Honestly I think I should've been Frodo, for I'm not as strong, not as useful, but honest...but I didn't want to think of myself as him. I'm much more for Orlando Bloom.

At one point, I missed my footing on the trail and was falling. I was going down, my body was sprawled like Superman, my nose was a foot from the ground, then somehow my other leg caught me and stopped my fall. I have no idea how it happened, would love to say it's because I'm so coordinated, but I'm not.

I went the first 15 miles with an ipod in my pocket and not using it. I had no desire to. The scenery and the whole experience was just too wonderful. Then I started feeling like I needed something, so I turned on the tunes. Good idea. It sent a jolt of energy into me. I started running harder and faster. I was excited. I screamed, for everything was just too amazing to keep it all in. My feet hit the ground faster and faster. I looked down at my watch at mile 17, I was doing a 7:30 min/mile pace....way too fast for the distance I would have to go for, but for a moment I didn't care.

When I came to inclines, I slowed to a walk and enjoyed it. I talked to the people I passed. I told Carol that I was going to try to be as friendly as possible, for if I didn't finish the race, at least I could go for "Miss Congeniality". I was talking to a guy that had run 5-100 milers. He finished 2, but DNF 3 because of stomach issues. I knew that couldn't be easy and wished him luck.

As we came around the corner, I saw in the distance the starting point. We were done with this portion of the race, and I would get to see Todd at the starting line aid station. I started running and ran the entire way. I met Todd with a great big hug, he is a great support to me. It took me about 4 hours to complete the first 19 miles.

Miles 19-27

I stopped at the aid station, grabbed a bite to eat, changed my shoes (which was heavenly), and started off again. My stomach wasn't agreeing with me, I wasn't as use to running with food in my stomach as my counterparts, so I did some walking. I still had a lot of energy, so I ran all that I could while still being smart about it. I had gone ahead of Carol and Kris, so since I wasn't quite as well trained for this race as they were, and plus I didn't want to be alone forever, I incorporated walking into my race. I decided to run 20 minutes and walk 10. In some ways this was very difficult. I hadn't really trained for this and found that walking, even though it was a relief, it seemed to make the running more difficult. I found myself looking at the watch, anxious for the 20 minutes to be up. The walk was good though for it did help me have the chance to take my salt tablets or any other nutrition without any difficulty. I used Hammer Nutrition's Enduralytes, and they are amazing. They helped me not to feel cramped up or anything.

I ran to my music for twenty minutes, then walk without any music. While walking I assessed my nutritional needs and also said many prayers in my heart. I knew that this was going to be difficult and that I needed to have the Lord's help if I had any hope of finishing.

I rounded the corner and saw the next aid station, Lower Frary Peak, mile 27.4. I didn't see the motorhome (that we had brought to the island) in the parking lot, so I was feeling quite disappointed that Todd wasn't going to be at the aid station. I pushed myself forward, telling myself that Todd wasn't good with finding places and that I shouldn't expect too much, I needed to just focus on running my own race.

To my surprise, Todd was there with open arms. He had gotten a ride with Kris' friend. He was very helpful, asking if there was anything he could do for me, helping me with all that he could. I got some Ramon Noodles and oh, they were so delicious. I was just leaving the aid station when Carol and Kris ran in. I was relieved of that, we were going to be together soon.

Miles 27-38

I left the aid station continuing on my 20 minutes of running to 10 minutes of walking. If I were to do it again, I would shorten the walking, maybe do 25 minutes to 5 minutes. The sun wasn't on me as much as before, causing a chill to go through my body. The terrain wasn't the best. The trail would be fine one moment, but then the next you were twisting your ankles trying to stay on top.

I had never ran farther than 30 miles, so when I reached that distance, and kept running, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had actually read that a runner should be able to run the first third of an ultra race without really feeling anything, without any problems, body not aching, etc. I wasn't sure I could run 33 miles like that, then I found out that that advice was for running a 50-miler. Ya, I could run 16 miles without feeling it, but as I approached 33 miles, I was impressed with how much I was not feeling achy or exhausted. Wow! I may be able to do this yet!

I got to the Ranch Aid station, mile 33. I took a bathroom break and was relieved when Carol came into the restroom behind me (these were the only flushing toilets of the entire course). After getting some Ramon noodles and fluids, I started back, for the Ranch was a turnaround point. I had only run about a mile when Carol and Kris caught up. I was grateful for this. It was easier to focus on their gait and just run with them than try pushing myself all alone. It was also good because it was starting to get dark and though Carol and Kris both had their headlamps, mine was waiting for me at the Lower Frary aid station. I couldn't see really well, but their headlamps helped me a lot more than running without them would have.

At Lower Frary I was going to be able to have pacers with me. Carol told me that my pacers were going to slow me down. I really didn't care if they did. I wanted to enjoy this race as much as I could. It was my first one and I didn't feel like I had to try to get a competitive time. Plus, since I hadn't been specifically training to run a 100 miler like Carol and Kris, I didn't feel like I could keep up with them, and I didn't want to hold them back.

Miles 39-50

We ran into the Lower Frary aid station and there were our people waiting for us. Todd was ready to run with me, and helped get my headlamp out while I got some nourishment. The temperature had also dropped so we were all putting on several more layers of clothing.

Carol and Kris started out, with Todd and I close behind. Todd didn't have a light because my mom had said that she would bring one up...which she forgot. Then she was going to buy one, but she wasn't back from the store yet. So while relying on just my headlamp, Todd and I ran on the terrain. I had to stop several times because of rocks in my shoes, and at one point had to take off my nylon socks because there was a hot spot on my fourth toe...sure enough, I had a blister. Great.

Then I was getting a little warm, so I took off a jacket as we walked. We started running again and I went to put my gloves back on, to find that I was missing a glove. I had dropped it at some point when I was taking off my jacket. Todd and I turned around and walked for awhile, looking for it, but it was dark, it was hard to see a little glove, and I still had a lot of mileage left to do. I didn't want to spend too much time looking for a glove, even though that glove had been with me on a lot of cold long runs this winter. So, with only one glove, we went on our way.

It was then that the lead runner came upon us, heading down to the ranch for their second time. Wow! Even though there were only about 40 racers, there were some impressive racers. The guy who won, Dan Vega has taken second place at Leadville (incredibly impressive in the Ultra world). The second place guy, Karl Meltzer, is amazing. Carol had actually talked to a lady during the race. The lady had done many, many 100's and Carol was feeling confused and frustrated. Carol felt as though she was putting in a good, hard effort, yet she was still in the back of the pack. The lady told Carol that in a normal race, at the pace Carol was going, she would be in the top 1/3 runners/finishers, but in this particular race, you pretty much only have the elite or/and the die-hards. This information, which may not even be correct, made me feel good.

Todd and I came upon the next aid station. Upon reporting my bib number to the volunteer, he asked, "Loni O'Neil?....is this you're pacer?.....I have something for you". He pulled out a light for Todd. I was so grateful, I wasn't sure how Todd was going to be able to run without a light. I had a volunteer put a band-aid on my toe as I inhaled some more Ramon, then we were on our way.

We started up a mountain, and I saw at the top a large figure with a orange hunting beanie on his head. As I got closer, I realized it was my dad! I was so excited to see him, and felt so supported to have him there. I gave him a big hug and thanked him for coming. This picture was taken 50 miles later, in the exact same spot.

Todd and I continued on. The course took us on the road, then suddenly into a field. While running in the field, we came upon an arrow that pointed to the right, but we could not find any distinguishable trail to follow. We just walked and walked, hoping we would come upon something. Finally we saw a light, and went towards it. It turned out being a lanturn they had set out to mark the path. We quickly found our way to the last aid station before the half-way point, or the end of the first loop. We got some food, then a volunteer walked us to the start of the next trailhead. He didn't have to, but it was very nice of him.

These are the best husbands in the world, Jeff and Todd. There is no way that Carol and I could have done this without them and their help and support.

We got on the trail and started running, all that we could. There was a lot of uneaven surfaces, inclines, declines, rocks and boulders in the way. I was guessing that the scenery was beautiful, but it was too dark to know for sure. It was nice being out there with Todd, definately an adventure, but I kept feeling so tired, desireing nothing more than a bed. I kept reminding myself that I wanted to take a No-doze when we got to the next aid station.

We started getting out of the rocky terrain and more into flatter trails. I started to push it, with Todd at my heals. I had noticed that the time was 11:40, I had been running for eleven hours and 40 minutes! I wanted to make it to the half-way point by midnight, so I kept on running. The last stretch I left Todd in the dust, literally. But I made it, 50 miles by midnight!

Here's me, Carol, and Kris at the 50 mile mark...we look energized

A friend that had completed a 24 hour adventure race had recommended having a complete change of clothes ready at the half-way point. Since we were out in the middle of nowhere, I grabbed my bag of clothes and went behind the aid station tent and changed all my clothes completely. It was a little chilly, and the change took some extra time, but maybe it was worth it.

I came back into the aid station tent and sat on a chair as my mom, dad, Reagan, and Todd all tried to help me. They got me food, asked me questions, got whatever I needed. My dad gave me a pair of gloves, bright orange hunting gloves.

I felt pretty good, a little fatigued, but still excited that I had just completed the first half of the race. My next pacer was Melanie. She was Lyndee's roommate in New York City. I met her once while visiting Lyndee, then I met her again at Lyndee's wedding. The morning of Lyndee's wedding, Melanie, my mom, Todd, and I all went running together, and the thing about Melanie is that once you meet her and get to talk to her, you fall in love with her. She is so likable and very compassionate and sweet... and hilarious. When I was trying to think of pacers, Lyndee suggested Melanie and I instantly agreed. Melanie was the best choice for this particular section of the run as well - 19 miles, lots of hills, in the middle of the night. Melanie has done lots of endurance races, including 3 Ironman, marathons, including the Boston Marathon, and lots of century (100 mile) bike rides. She had the mental strength and ability to help me through this next portion.

Miles 50-69

At 12:40 (40 minutes at the aid station!!!), Melanie and I went in the dark to conquer the mountain. Before leaving the aid station, I knew there was something I needed to get from Todd, ten minutes into the run I figured it out...the No-doze!

The first time through this section was difficult, but I had fresh legs and a beautiful scenery. This time it was difficult and I had tired legs and could not see anything. I kept telling Melanie that I wished she could see the beautiful landscape that was around us.

The trails were difficult, and a lot of inclines. We were moving quite slowly, but Melanie was perfect. She kept the conversation up and going the entire time. She changed subjects frequently enough that I didn't get bored with whatever topic she was talking about. Plus, she has done 3 Ironmans, one of them being Kona, so I utilized that to my advantage to pick her brain about doing an Ironman. When we did get to some-what flat trails, Melanie pushed me to run as much as I could, but there weren't a lot of flat spots, and when there was a flat spot, it didn't last long.

I was feeling so tired, I wanted nothing more than to sleep. I was grateful for Mel's conversation, for it did help me keep my brain somewhat active. I was mad at myself for not remembering the No-doze. I hardly ever have caffine (can't even remember the last time) and I knew that it would definately wake me up.

We got to the Elephant Head Aid station, mile 55, and I gave the volunteer my number for checking in. "Loni O'Neil?" Ya. "Here" he said as he unzipped his vest's pocket and pulled out a small waterbottle, "Someone left this for you....he said you would know what it was." I looked at the waterbottle and saw that there were peculiar little round things floating all around in a gel-like substance. It was Chi, and it was from Ad Marshall.

On my flight to Utah on Thursday I was sitting across from the aisle from a guy wearing the finger-toed shoes while reading a book. I glanced at the book and realized that it was Born to Run. I commented to him how that was an excellent book. He said that it was his second time reading it in the last two months. We started chatting about running and soon realized that we were both headed for the same race, and that it was his first 100 mile Ultramarathon as well. He introduced himself as Ad Marshall and we instantly became friends.

For the remainder of the flight we talked about running. He talked about his running partner, Brian, and I talked about mine, Kara, as if we were talking about our significant others, but we both "got" what it really means to be and have a running partner. We shared stories and ideas of how we were going to get through our first 100 mile race. He talked about Chi, which is mentioned in the book Born to Run. I had never seen it, nor used it, so he told me he would "hook me up". We talked through the entire flight, he got the stewardess to give us extra water bottles (she was insistant that we not show nor tell anyone about it for she could get into trouble!) by telling her about our race. We talked down the jetway and all the way to baggage claim. After picking up our bags, we wished eachother luck and went on our way.

Holding the small water bottle with the fisheggs-like water, I remembered what it is to be a runner... to live life, to experience it, to meet people on your way, to learn from them, and to help each other. I opened the bottle and chugged the concauction, surprisingly it was tasteless....thankfully.

Mel and I chose to do the shorter 3 mile out and back first. It was a lot slower for our footing was not as sure as it was in the daylight, and there were moments that we were on the ledge of the mountain. We reached the end, got my high-tech sticker, and went back to the aid station. It was cold and I was still incredibly sleepy when we got to the aid station. They had several cups of pop set out, one pop was a caffinated drink. I considered taking it, knowing the caffine would help me, but as I consideered it, my friend that had attempted 5 Ultras before and had to drop out of 3 of them was sitting there in the tent trying to will his stomach to allow him to keep going. I haven't drank carbonation since I was a Freshman in high school. I had stopped for soccer season and never went back (once you don't have it for awhile, it's just bubbly, tastless, and hurts your stomach). I knew that if I drank the pop, I may wake up my body, but I would be paying for it with my stomach. Instead I drank some Ramen Noodles, had an oreo (one thing I like about this kind of running is that oreos are recommended, not restricted), and went on my way.

Melanie was such a sport. I was not fast, the terrain did not help, it was dark, and it was getting cold. My fingers were frozen - which did not help my sleepyness. Noticing that my gloves were my dad's size, therefore causing a lot of extra space, Melanie offered to trade me gloves. I was so grateful to put on her warm, tight gloves. It made a huge difference, and later when I offered to switchback Melanie refused, claiming that I had a lot more to do than she did. In the end she gave the gloves to me, stating that they would be a good memory keepsake of our experience together.

Later Melanie jokingly told my mom that all of the racers needed to see a psychologist. My mom then said that Melanie needed to see a psychologist because she had been over on the island for over 12 hours, awake all through the night, running with her friend's younger sister. I thought it was funny, but after what Melanie did for me, the sacrifices she made, she is a very dear friend of mine as well.

Things were slow, we were going up switchbacks, we were close to the edge, I was tired, I was cold, and my light was getting dimmer and dimmer. We tried running when we could, to help warm us up, but the terrain made it very short-lived. Even though it was difficult, and I felt like I could sleep walk. I made sure that I didn't focus on what I still had to do. I was just focused on making it through the next mile, the next corner, the next step.

Here's the elevation map of the course. Notice that most of the elevation gains and losses are in the first 19 miles...and miles 50-69.

We saw the aid station for the last time, and we were happy about that. We continued on our way. While heading back there were a couple of people that passed us, mostly because their brisk walk was quicker than ours was, but I didn't care. I was focused only on complettion, not competition.

With only a few miles left until we were back at the starting point, it suddenly got light out. It wasn't like someone turned on a light overhead, but rather all of the sudden it was like we could see the trail, we could see our immediate surroundings, we could see our footing! With new enthusiasim, Mel and I started jogging, but that soon turned to running. We passed all the people who passed us earlier, they all gave encouraging shouts, one guy stating that we were "inspiring". As low and as difficult as it was before, it was even more that much of a high and effortless to run now. We were going at least a 8:00 min/mile pace and we were not slowwing down. We both yelled at the top of our lungs because it was so incredibly climatic. Words cannot even describe how amazing it was. It was a great feeling to be alive.

A quarter mile to the aid station there was a herd of buffalos, 10 yards from the trail. They were beautiful and magestic, total addition to our experience. Joy was exploding from us. We got to the aid station with wide smiles. We got there at about 7:15 AM, it took almost 7 hours to do that 19 miles. Carol and Kris had come through an hour and a half before us.

Todd and my mom were at the aid station waiting. They couldn't believe the speed we were going at. My mom was up and ready to run the next section with me, but told me that there was no way she could run that fast. She didn't have to, for just as we were about to take off, my dad came around the corner, his neice right behind him.

Miles 69 - 80

My next pacer was my cousin Kristi. Our family has like 36 cousins, and with Krisiti being almost 10 years older than me, I never knew her that well. I was the little girl that passed out napkins while in my Easter dress at her wedding reception, and that was my biggest memory of Kristi.

Kristi had started running 5 years ago when she had happend to go to her aunt's first marathon. Krisit was impressed with the determination of her aunt, she was touched to see so many runners, every different shape and sizes, working hard to achieve something. After that experience, Kristi started running and got a group of 18 other women (ranging in ages from 20's to 60's) to join her as she ran her first half-marathon the following year. The aunt that Kristi had seen run was my mom, and it was my first marathon as well. I didn't know this until after she had agreed to pace with me.After coming off on such a great high, I was excited for the next portion. Kristi was perfect as well. We talked easily, and had a lot to share. Kristi is very positive and hilarious, which made the run that much more enjoyable. We even took a wrong turn (actually there was an absence of a turn and that was the problem) and she laughed about it right beside me.

Though she lives near the area, Kristi had never been to Antelope Island. We saw some buffalos far off in a field, on the other side of a fence and she could not believe it. I told her about how Mel and I had gotten so close to a herd. Then I told her how the race director had sent out an email stating that there was a chance we could encounter buffalo and he gave specific instructions on what to do if we were to find ourselves in a situation that we were dangerously close to them. I couldn't remember if it was that you do or do not look at them in the eyes, but laughed because I felt it was a little extreme to be worried about running into buffalo.

I found that the miles were flying by as Kristi was telling me more about her life and her family (she has 4 boys and 1 girl). Kristi was great at motiviating me to keep running. "Let's run until we reach that hill" she would say, or she would "Weeeee" whenever we went down and up a short hill. Things were going great until I wished that I had been better prepared, listened better, for ahead in our path was a herd of huge buffalos, with no one else around.

It was somewhat humerous since we were just talking about me not paying close attention to that particular email, but upon seeing the granduer of those beasts, it was freightening. Kristi decided that she would make her own trail that went far away from the buffalos. I decided that it was all a part of the adventure, and didn't get as far away from them, but as I got closer and they all turned towards me, I wished I had followed Kristi's example and that I had read that email better.

Just as we passed them, the buffalos gathered closer together and started running off, in the opposite direction. It was so beautiful, and worth the scare that we got...if only I had brought a camera!

Around the corner was the next aid station, where Kristi would be trading with Reagan. I was sad that she would be leaving, I really did enjoy my time with her. I also couldn't believe how good I felt. Sure I felt fatigued (that's expected), but my body was holding up so incredibly well. I didn't feel too bad and felt that I still had a lot left in me.

We got to the aid station and there was no Reagan, there wasn't anyone from my family. I looked at Kristi and asked if she could go until the next aid station. Even though it would make her late to a previous engagement, she happily consented and we started off. At the beginning of every run following an aid station I walk for a little bit, mainly to help my stomach have a better chance to digest what it had just taken in. But as we walked, I found I had a shooting pain coming from my left leg, right in the front where the foot connects to the leg. It was hard to walk on, but at 77 miles into the race, I was going to muscle my way through to the end if I had to.

Kristi insisted that I try running on it, something I hated her for at the moment, but something that I love her for now. We started running and the pain did lessen. I focused my mind on whatever Kristi was saying as I tried bearing through the pain and fatigue. We would walk every so often to help my fatigue, but then would soon be running to help us get further and to make my leg not hurt as much.

Around mile 80 we saw Carol's husband's car and Todd and Reagan on the trail.

Mile 80 - 88

Todd appologized for not being at the previous aid station, and I said my goodbyes and thank yous to Kristi as Reagan got ready to run with me. As Reagan was putting in his headphones I informed him that he wasn't going to be able to listen to music, but rather his job was to help me. He very graciously handed off his ipod to Todd and we started off. I was starting to have a tough time. My leg/foot was killing me, dampening my spirits. Reagan and I walked a lot of those first couple of miles together. We got a mile from the Ranch aid station when we ran into Carol and Kris, who were going the other way. I was surprised that I was only a couple of miles behind them. They were walking and looked beat. We were all excited to see eachother and exchanged hugs and words of encouragement. Carol looked at me and said, "Don't you worry at all about Ironman....this is harder than Ironman" Wow, that did give me some relief, for May.

Reagan and I tried picking up our pace and made it to the Ranch aid station. The whole time I was thinking about how once I got to the aid station, I could massage my leg with Icy Hot. As luck would have it, they didn't have any Icy Hot there. Great! I got my usual Ramen, hydrated myself, and Reagan and I started back.

Reagan was awesome. He did a such a good job being a support. He told me hilarious stories and was there to help in anyway that he could. I got a little choked up by his kindness. I think one of the best things of running this race has been to see the love and support coming from people that I love and care about. I had three other cousins that were going to come pace me, but because I didn't realize there was going to be a 19 mile stretch that no one could come in the middle of, they weren't able to pace me. And here I was, with my 22 year-old brother who was accomedationg to my every need.

I got nervous about the time. I wasn't exactly sure of the time, but I knew I was 17 miles from the finish. I was doing calculations in my head and realized that especially with my leg injury, I may not be able to make it in time for the 30 hour cut-off. I decided that Reagan and I needed to push it. We started running, with Reagan telling me the story of the worst day of his life. It was hilarious, but with the pain, I needed to focus, focus hard. Even though I forbade him to bring his music, I put my headphones in, of course Reagan harassed me about this, but didn't complain, he was very understanding.

At first it hurt my leg to run, but soon I was able to focus my mind and attention away from my pain and keep in the zone, keep running. Reagan would run beside me when the trail allowed this, then would run just ahead of me. I found that he was actually more helpful just ahead of me, for I could focus my attention to his gait and attempt to match it. We ran and ran. I thought I saw the aid station in the distance, so I decided we would run until we got to the aid station. The distance was very decieving, but we ran the entire way. In my mind I realized it was probably now 2:30 PM; I had only 3.5 hours left to complete 13 miles. Something that I could do no sweat on any other day, but not now. I started to realize that though I gave a good effort, I may come up short. I was getting depressed as we came up to the Lower Frary aid station. There at the aid station was my dad, my mom, and Todd. I ran into my mom's arms and started sobbing. Not only was I hurting and tired, but I wasn't sure if I would be able to make it. I asked what time it was and found out that it was only 12:30! (Don't EVER try doing math while running...you will be wrong). Suddenly my tears turned to tears of joy, relief and gratitude. I couldn't believe it.

Miles 88-100

After getting my nourishment, we continued. My mom and Reagan both were pacing me now, and it was helpful to have their little conversation going. I was having a difficult time. My leg was feeling so terrible, I started wondering if I had broken something, destroying my chance of doing the Ironman in May.

I was very tired, physically exhausted and sleepy...I had been awake since 6:30 AM the previous morning and had been running since noon that same day. I was trying to let my food settle, but was discouraged with how slowly we were going. After a bit, my mom suggested that we start running. I said that I would try to run through one entire song, so I got my ipod ready and we set off. The pain in my leg was excrusiating. I was letting out little yelps because of the pain, but I remained behind Reagan, trying to focus on his running. The first song finally finished and I decided that I would try to go through another song. The break between the first and second song was so long that I started questioning if I would make it even to the beginning of the second song. Somehow I mustered the strength and kept running through about 6 songs....amazing!

We reached the next aid station with about 6 or 7 miles left. Todd was there to join us and I was so grateful to see him. I got my nurishment and started up the hill. At the top of the hill was my dad waiting to see us, with his bright orange hat. He gave me a hug and told me that I could do it. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes for a second, trying to get some sort of REM sleep shock into me...didn't work. My mom, Reagan, Todd and I continued on our way. I was holding hands with Todd, while using his hand almost like a cane. My leg was throbbing, but you do not get 93 miles into the race and quit.

I consider myself to be quite mentally strong, I feel that that is how I have been able to endure so many tough races and rough training sessions. But I felt as though I was being pushed to the edge. I was not strong enough, I was falling apart...but it did take 93 miles to get to that point. I cried and I cried. I would stop for a bit, then suddenly just start crying again. I wasn't really sure what I was crying about, I felt like a true woman. Anyone that knows me, knows that I don't cry. It's not that I'm not sensitive or that I'm too tough, I just really don't cry. I think Todd saw more tears during the last 7 miles than he has in the last 7 years of our marriage (and that's including the birth of our four children). Todd says he has finally found a way to "break" me, just have me run 95 miles than I will be under his control.

We would be walking, for at this point running wasn't really an option, and I would just start crying. I don't know if I was crying because I was tired (I had been up for over 30 hours, running for most of that time), if it was because my hormones were off, if it was because my leg hurt, if it was because I just wanted to be done, if it was because I felt like I still had a lot left to go, if it was because I was emotional about finishing a 100 mile race, if it was because we were going so slowly...I'm not exactly sure, but the tears sure were coming.

After we got around the more difficult parts of the trail, I wanted to run, but I also was feeling like I did when I ran the St. George marathon - dehydrated. I only had a few sips left in my bottle and the last thing I wanted to do was pass out before I got to the finish. I continued to walk. I turned on my music, to some Christian music, and that helped me to stay focused (and not cry). We finally came to a road and there was my dad in his car, waiting for us. I got a water bottle from him and drank as much as I could. It helped so much. I felt much better. I could see the Start/Finish tent ahead. I was getting close. It was still a distance, but we were progressing. As I got closer and closer, I wanted to start running, but I held it back. Then we got to the last long stretch, I had picked up the pace, then I turned my music to "I can only imagine" and I started running...fast, at least fast for having just gone 100 miles.

It was great to run, yes it hurt, but I wanted to finish the race running. We had to go to the end of a road, past the tent, turn up a road, past the tent, then finally run down a road towards the tent and the finish line. Todd thought I had turned on my running too soon, but for the first time at the end of a race, I didn't mind the extra roadage I had to do.

I crossed the finish line running. I cannot describe the joy and emotion that was going through me at that moment. I had finished. I had run 100 miles. I was done. I had stuck with it. I felt loved. I felt supported. I was helped. I was not alone. I started crying, but not like before, I was crying purely out of joy, out of disbelief. I fell into Todd's arms and sobbed, then hugged my mom. I had done it. Out of 54 enterants, only 31 people completed the race. I was the youngest woman, and was one of only seven women that finished. I got first place in my age division --but I was the ONLY one in my age division. I finished in 28:28, that's 28 HOURS, an hour for every year old I am....wow. I got my belt buckle, for I had FINISHED!!

Now, I am including the video of my finish. I am a little embarrassed by all my crying in it, but as Todd says, "You just ran a hundred miles...you can do anything you want". I won't add that he told me that my crying in the video was mild compared to my crying beforehand. Enjoy!

Running a hundred miles is quite an accomplishment, but there is no way I could have done it without: Todd, my mom, my dad, Reagan, Melanie, Kristi, Carol, Kris, Jeff, my boys, my father-in-law that watched my boys, Lyndee, and the rest of my supporting family and friends. And of course the one that helped me the most, my Heavenly Father.