Stalked

Slow down! Steep downhill ahead!

7:15pm on a Friday night with a phone call that ended in, "Yeah! Lets go mark the course now!" Jesse met me in a Whole Foods parking lot where we grabbed sandwiches, coconut water, and coffee.  The plan to mark the race course in the morning was out the window with a last minute technicality we hadn't prepared for. At 8:04pm we were caravanning out to Tillamook Forest for some middle of the night adventuring. Both capable, and very willing, we didn't question what we were about to do as long as we had each other to rely on for course knowledge and the safety of a buddy.

9:30pm and we were headed out loaded with cones, tape, and a couple signs to stake into the ground warning of more dangerous downhill sections to come. Fast forward with one burly climb mostly behind us, and catching up with each other on what adventures we've been up to since the last time we saw each other, and it was roughly 10:30pm. We jaunted along and admired what a stellar fall night it was to be out here. Twisting and turning along the more runnable terrain when all of a sudden Jesse comes to an abrupt halt that I just barely skirted around avoiding a friendly crash collision. "HEYYYY!! HEYYYYYYYYY!" Jesse roared, and in the skip of a heart beat I was locking eyes with the cat just yards up the trail in front of us. Its eyes illuminated by the glare of our headlamps, and its ears perked in a sort of curiosity that expressed interest in what type of meat we may be. FUCK.

The logbook before the cat. So excited!

Jesse roared, "GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" I looked around for anything to use that would inflict physical damage if we were charged. Thanks to the damp Pacific Northwest, the sticks I grabbed merely bent under any force I applied. Jesse turned around quickly, found the winning stick, and cracked it over his knee handing me the other half. Arms over head, and screaming like wild banshees, we took steps forward. The cat wandered off up into the hills. We both looked at each other in total bewilderment of what we just encountered. Having been all over this trail for our own training runs a plethora of times, this was a first. Keep moving, keep yelling, and blow that whistle like your survival depends on it. We walked. The more you run when a cat has keyed in on you, the more you look like a tasty morsel worth following. Our eyes scanned the trail in all directions looking for its presence. At 12:07am we were captains logging in the summit book of what we'd seen, and I had just enough service to get a call out to the race director letting him know our kitty cat was on the trail.

Shortly after coming down off the summit we were becoming more and more confident we were in the clear. The grip on my dagger stick loosened, and more light hearted conversations began. We were even comfortable enough to make jokes about a mountain lion encounter in the middle of a Friday night. Our legs began moving their normal running speed again as we kept laying confidence markers on the trail making sure no racer was getting lost on our dime. Jesse had a few chuckles at the fact I may be classified as an "over marker." We were talking about travel goals and other shenanigans when Jesse came to the familiar, abrupt halt again. As soon as my momentum came to its stop, my ears caught the sound of something on the ridge above our trail making the same stop under crunching bushes. The new realization was the cat had indeed been tracking us and was potentially about to make its move right here, in the middle of our future travel plans conversation.

Logbook after the cat. Less excited. 

Jesse was enraged. His guttural roar was back in full force. This time his commentary was something you wouldn't want your mother to here, and horror movie dialogue that would make you feel like you were toast. I was even intimidated. We hauled rocks as far as our arms could throw up into those trees. The whistle firmly planted against my lips, I knew I couldn't yell the way Jesse could, I blew so hard that my surroundings were silenced as my eardrums were paralyzed with internal ringing. I had stayed calm, cool, and collected until this very moment where I had no idea what that cat's intentions with us were. My heart beat elevated pounding through my bony chest, and my breath escaped me. Jesse looked back knowing I may lose it, and firmly stated, "Stay focused Jenn." He was absolutely right. I truly can't comprehend what the situation would look like had either one of us experienced this solo. We walked, and the grasp on my dagger was back to its white knuckled normal.


It was late, and already past the time we had anticipated being finished. My eyes fixed on every bit of trail around me. Where the hell was this thing, and how had it managed to follow us over the crazy path we were traveling without being noticed even once until now? Cats are amazing predators, and have a stealth that I wouldn't ever appreciate until these very moments. "This is fucked up." We were both vulnerable and pissed. The two of us were exhibiting aggressive tendencies I didn't think existed within our personal characters.  I took deep breaths and tried to keep calm under this intense fear of unknown and our own exposure out here. "HEYYYYYYYYYYYY! RAWWWWRRRRRRR! GOOOOOOO!" It was now posted up just in its position of choice just yards up from us on the trail. It's one thing to hear the thing in the woods, but as soon as it presents itself, your mind runs wild with worst case scenarios while in the same breath, your body reaction is somewhat stunned. Arms up over head and I began blowing the whistle so hard that I hoped my sounds would reach Jeff who was much further east fishing on the Metolius. Jesse had two pointed rocks in each hand and he was ready to kill the cat that had spent its night toying with our the state of our psychological health.

The friendly newt that helped calm nerves.

Once the cat had wandered back into the hills, this would be the final time we see it. The miles we agreed would be walked from here to finish, took hours. It was 4am by the time we were back to the safety Jesse's car that promised shelter from the now downpour, and the cat that was probably still on our terrified tails. We processed what we could before making the trek back to our  homes, where once I had fallen asleep, had returning nightmares of the cat. What a freaking  night run for two people who are typically unfazed by the the potential of risk involved. Being with Jesse out there in that situation taught me humbling, valuable lessons about knowing how to react and think clearly when you're in the face of immediate danger, and respecting territory that truly isn't yours. Know your nocturnal hunters! Always carry a whistle, always bring along a night time buddy, because if it's not cats it's weirdos, and never underestimate your mountain surroundings. Heaven forbid it's ever Squatch you encounter when out for an evening run through the woods! My resting heart rate has returned to me, and all is well. Happy trails!

(Disclaimer- No race participant was lost due to our exceptional course markings. Winning.)

Forty Seven Hours Twenty Nine Minutes Later

Selfie cred: Darcy Piceu

We loaded up Amiga with the gear we knew would support our days of adventure to come, sent off our, "here we come!" selfie,  and headed south for Tahoe. Our road trip down I-5 was business as usual with a stop at Sequential Biofuels for the best snacks before crossing state lines. On the radio, our genuinely loved road trip essence playlist, and two dogs letting their ears and jowls flap in the wind as their heads dangled curiously out the back windows.

Jeff and I talked adamantly about how excited we were to have this opportunity to help our friend Krissy as she chased down her goal of setting the supported FKT on the Tahoe Rim Trail. Jeff's enthusiasm was something like that of the boy who just found out he's probably getting the coveted Red Ryder for Christmas,  where mine was more like, "Holy shit, I get to run with the woman I consider my spirit animal in the sport of trail running, and a woman I've felt truly encapsulates the strength, determination, beauty and courage that inspires me as a female ultra runner." I could hardly wrap my mind around being a source of help amongst the full crew of amazing humans also passionate about helping her reach the finish line under her 48 hour time goal. FKT attempts never have guaranteed success, and there are so many variables to consider in planning that could potentially go wrong, but as we got closer and closer to Tahoe, something deep inside of me told me she was going to do this.

The Gellin solution to a lot of coffee

After spending a night with the Boggess family on their beautiful ranch, with their amazing hospitality for weary travelers and dogs, we loaded up basecamp supplies into a suburban and began the caravan to Big Meadows. We rolled through the campground with the frequency levels of Jack's bark piercing our eardrums and announcing our arrival, making sure any peaceful camp vibes were surely interrupted. Krissy and crew were kicked back in camp chairs around Ma an Pa Moehl's RV.  Within minutes we were all catching up with friends we haven't seen for awhile, and making new friends which honestly, is just way too easy to do in the world of trail running. I glanced around and realized what a rockstar crew Krissy had wrangled together. To my right we have Darcy Piceu, don't need to elaborate much there, Kathleen Egan, the world traveler and compassionate animal lover,  Gina Lucrezi, the girl who makes you laugh just by being in her presence, Fred Marmsater, badass adventure photographer who would document all of this experience, Neil Baker, good PDX running pal who is there to create a story for his new magazine soon to to be in print, Jeff Boggess of the one and only Trail Butter, the most delicious nut butters currently in existence (I'm not bias), Monica Ochs, dear friend of Krissy's, and Jeff Fisher, you know, the naked butt guy in all of Paul Nelson's running photos?! Joining us the following day would be Gary Gellin, knower of all things even remotely trail running related, and pioneer of the eighteen cups in one batch coffee method, accompanied by Ross Donihue of Maps for Good. Between Gary's overall love for maps, his extreme knowledge of the trail after his own FKT attempts, and Ross's ability to create maps (he is after all a cartographer), those two were a serious addition of humor, energy and expertise in the aid this crew provided for Krissy.

Girl power!
Myself, Gina Kathleen, Krissy, Ma, Darcy, and Monica 

The pre FKT meeting began shortly after breakfast that morning. I can't tell you how impressive it is to watch Krissy's planning abilities unfolding before your eyes. She's so meticulous in preparation that all we had to do was absorb what she was telling us and start organizing where gear went and which crew car got what supplies. Myself personally, was so worried about not being this type of planner that I was destined to screw something up. Just before the trip Jeff and I had exchanged emails with Darcy because we knew she had extensive intel on what Krissy may need out there based on their running history together. Darcy definitely reassured my nerves when she just laughed and told us that in no way was she a "planner," either. Great! Two negatives always make a positive. I chose not to overthink any detail oriented planning after exchanging these words with her.

Man power! Pa Moehl, Neil, Fred, Jeff B, and Jeff Fisher

Gear fest
Photo cred: Jeff Fisher 

Fred  relentlessly snapped photos as we bounced from tarp to tarp moving food, gear, and tampons into their newly designated, Ultraspire Titan packs.  Oh I'm sorry! Did I forget to mention that on top of worrying about the major logistics of how we'd all execute this thing, that our dear lady had started her menstrual cycle hours before start time? Guys, you have no idea what kind of wrench this may throw into the already grinding gears. Welcome to more ultra female badassery. Ok team, that's it. All systems go in t-minus twenty two hours. A few of us laced up and headed out for a final shakeout run before go time. The giddiness and overall energy of this group was infectious. I was in my element, and never better. Getting back to camp, dinner was being prepped, and cool beers allowed us to settle comfortably back into camp vibes. Krissy was mellow as a melon while Ma Moehl assigned us tasks in having dinner ready. I immediately understood where Krissy gets her efficiency from! Gary buzzed around trying to figure out if anyone wanted to check out the blood moon, and while the others finished up with dinner happenings, Jeff and I piled in with Gary and Ross to chase this supermoon that we never actually found, all the way into Nevada. The night quieted down and eventually, Krissy climbed into Simba (her Honda Element), Jeff and I climbed into Amiga, and extra tents were filled with anyone who wanted to take advantage of them. Sleep tight crew, you won't be for the next two days.

Darcy learning how to take over
 Krissy's social media.  

Dawn broke, and groggy eyed faces started poking out from their sleeping quarters. There was a quiet buzzing that began to bring basecamp to life. The morning sky was perfect while the air hung in peaceful stillness. Calm, cool and collected, we prepared for her 11am start time. Before we all knew it, cars were loaded up and we transported our girl to her start line. She danced around in pure anxious anticipation while we still had at least 15 minutes to go. Jeff and Gina strapped on their packs as they would carry her the first leg into Echo Lake, fifteen(ish) miles away. She hugged and thanked each and every one of us for being there, and spent the last moments in her parents arms. She took none of this experience for granted. It was time, and she was ready. 5...4...3...2...1... GO! Up and away her legs carried her while we cheered our brains out ready to follow along with her on this journey.

We gathered ourselves and hit the road that was planned for each crew car to travel. Knowing that Darcy and I would be by Krissy's side for the next 30, we loaded up on some Mexican food (always a great idea before running) to take with us to Echo Lake where we would await their arrival. Fred decided that consuming a burrito the size of a small child was the way to go before he joined us for the first seventeen miles of the Desolation Wilderness. About 30 seconds after his last bite he knew what his fate would be. No time for digestion, Krissy, Gina and Jeff were headed directly for our aid station! They came in whooping and hollering with Krissy's expression reading she was here on official business. A couple handhelds refilled, watermelon slices down her hatch, she was confident, and we were heading out.

Pigtail party into Desolation Wilderness
Photo cred: Fred Marmsater 

My mind was blown about every fifteen seconds as we ventured deeper and deeper into Desolation. If you didn't know, the Desolation Wilderness is the heaviest used wilderness area in the country, and this was the first time I was laying eyes on her.  Darcy stayed two steps ahead of Krissy while I stayed a few behind. In our Krissy sandwich, we passed her food, water, and trekking poles when she needed them. Fred bounded ahead of us trying to nab the perfect shot earning him the nickname, hammer ahead Fred. I could have sworn he may have been in better shape than all of us with the way he covered ground, back and forth and back. Unbelievably so, his burrito child managed to stay down... Probably because it was making its way out in other (stinky) ways.  Krissy looked back at me for a moment, "You okay girl?" My distraction with the scenery opened a bigger gap between us then I realized. I scamper back up to her when she says, "This part is why I brought you out here!" Then it hits me again. Holy shit. I'm running with Krissy and Darcy. It's not every day you find yourself smack dab in the middle of events you didn't realize to be tangible reality. I digress. We came into the station where the crew had hiked 5 miles in with supplies, cooked us mac n cheese, and like always, got Krissy in and out. We said goodbye to Fred who's burrito had finally given up the digestive fight, and off we went for the last 14 miles.

I don't suggest a back flop.
Photo cred: Gina Lucrezi

So it was, her pacers leap frogged each other as she was handed off like a baton to whoever she ran with in the sections to come. Jeff and Gina were up again after Darcy and I finished, followed by Jeff and Neil, followed by Monica and Kathleen, followed again by myself and Jeff, and to close it out for the finale, Darcy and Gina. Fred was constantly popping on and off course for the miles to capture the moments. The highs and lows, the sunrises and sunsets, the laughter, the cramping, the food that was shoveled into her mouth, and the Desitin that kept her lips moist and chaffing bearable. He crew teams worked diligently to stay alert, have her supplies ready when she needed, feed her jokes and stories as she pushed herself through those relentless miles. Gary was constantly bopping around the trail to access more remote locations he knew a bigger crew wouldn't be able to reach, refueling supplies, and then darting off again to let the rest of the team know her locations and when she was to be expected. At one point the next crew took over and Jeff, Darcy, Gina and myself headed for the lake. More specifically, a private beach we managed to not get ourselves kicked out of, and were able to relax and eventually take a dip. The dip was Darcy's idea, and believe me, we weren't going anywhere until we all partook.

Gina wins relaxation contest

She slept for 45 minutes over the entire 47 hours and 29 minutes she was out there. That was it. She kept her mind strong, and when she hit a low, she had her team to get her through it. To massage her aching foot, to give her back rubs, to carry enough toilet paper that we could have disguised ourselves as mummy's if needed, to remind her in the words of Dusty Olson, to "pull the string out" when the time came, and most importantly, keep ourselves strong so that she would always be able to rely on us for whatever she required. Yes, this crew got her to the finish line, but what we all got to see while she was out there enduring, was pure magic. We witnessed strength, we witnessed ferocious positivity, we witnessed willpower when times were harder, we witnessed kindness, compassion, vulnerability, discomfort, pain, exhaustion, and her capacity to always, no matter what, keep one foot moving in front of the other, come what may. Her status not only as an elite ultra running machine, but as a woman, a friend, a writer, a helper, a planner, and the truest representation of what oneself is capable of accomplishing when devoting themselves to achieving their goals, makes the essence that is Krissy, what we all desire to embody when we hit the trail. One can only be so grateful to experience humans like this throughout this magical thing we know to be life. They are our teachers, and push us to be better versions of ourselves. Our mentors that we look to when we know not the answers we seek.

Once Krissy had been handed off to Gina and Darcy, we knew it was time to head back to basecamp and wait for the next morning when she would cross her finish line. We all gathered at the trail head while Fred set up his camera, we set up her finishers chair, Jeff pulled out the tambourine, and we established an actual finish line in the dirt. Monica, Kathleen, Jeff B, Jeff F, and I headed a few hundred yards up the trail to run her in the last few feet of this journey. Minutes felt like hours as they crept by, and there it was. A flash of her white Patagonia jersey with Gina and Darcy flying in behind her. We roared! We roared as loud as we could to let her know she was home, and all at once she flew by as we joined and sprinted our legs off to be with her in those final moments. 47 hours and 29 minutes later, Krissy fell into the arms of her momma.

Each day we are capable of being who we want to be and leading the lives we want to live. Never stop chasing the dreams you have for yourself. Push your boundary's, get some dirt encrusted into your chafed bottom, eat that piece of cake, take that risk, but most importantly, write the story you want to read at your journey's end. Congrats to our dear friend Krissy in setting the new, supported female FKT on the Tahoe Rim Trail. You've got guts girl!

We did it! The Krissy crew of 2015

Two Years and One Accountabilibuddy Later: An Ode to Him

     "What's that hard thing at the end of the bed?" I curled myself into a ball and pulled the covers tight over my head as I became painfully aware of what Jeff was inquiring about. The toenail I feared would fall off on any given day now had decided to depart from my toe on one of the very first nights I had spent in Jeff's bed. Not knowing how he would take to this, two years later, and with many laughs remembering that first snuggling intro to my feet,  he now shares in the same blackened and battered toenails that have become the "norm" of our relationship.

Yocum Ridge intersection on the Timberline trail, Mt. Hood. 

   
       I've always been extremely aware that any lasting relationship I would find myself in would be one where my partner was tolerating of my nuissances, patient, passionate, shared my twisted humor, and desired to live life outdoors away from comfort zones. Little did I know that taking a hike onto a remote ridgeline on Mt. Hood I would find what I had almost given up looking for. I write this post with the utmost appreciation for my best friend who will be toeing the line of the Mt. Hood 50  this weekend. A race I had been training for only a few weeks after meeting him on that ridgeline two years ago. The race he told me I was "crazy" for doing. The race he just shook his head at in conversation.
   
       When Jeff and I established ourselves as partners in crime very early on in the relationship, it only made sense that I would test his ability's in enjoying time on the trail with me. One of our first runs was along the Salmon River trail, and since then I can't remember a time where we've stopped chasing each other up steep ascents, over jagged terrain, splashing through stream crossings, or comparing who fell harder on that section of trail. All so that afterwards we could drive ourselves to the land of Coke and Orange Fanta, complimented by chips, ice cream, and a whole lot of Netflix. Every weekend we've picked our destination and escaped the city to run with friends all over the PNW,  or fly fish the rivers Jeff has fallen passionately in love with since moving west.  We've spent countless hours in his Toyota pickup we've named Amiga, one of two (rest in peace Monty), sleeping on the side of roads en route to adventure, and listening to Jack bark with reckless abandonment as we weave through meandering dirt roads with the smell of firs and pines on either side of us.

       
        Once Jeff started running there was nothing I could do to tame his excitement for covering ground on foot this way, and I'm not about to try. I have been so unbelievably lucky to share a life with this man who has enhanced my love for the run in ways I've been unable to imagine until now.  Having a training partner on and off the trails is something I will never take for granted. It's something I think about every single day, and honor beyond any scale of value.  If you've never heard the term before, I'd like to introduce you to what we call "accountabilibuddies." These are the buddies that hold you accountable for what you've set out to do, and don't take slack when you're behaving like a CBPP (cry baby pissy pants). Your accountabilibuddy wants the best for you and pushes you to new heights by believing in you when you're having a rough go at it.  For Jeff and I, we do this pretty well. Right down to yelling at the other to sit deeper into the ice bath because, "YOU'RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT!" "If I go any deeper you can say so long to kids!" One also cannot forget the intimate nights spent squirming and grunting as we roll each others tender spots out with the "stick," while our roommate is trying to sleep above us while wondering what the hell is going on down there?
 

       The support required to be able to live a life of chasing your passions, spending hours, days, and weeks doing so is a beautiful thing. You'll find yourself challenged as you seek the balance between it all, and you'll find yourself needing to challenge yourself as well as your partner to support them on deeper levels. You make sacrifices to make it all happen, and try to do so as selflessly as possible even though the sacrifices may require a bit of selfishness.  To find myself living a life with Jeff where our passions align, and we exist in a very cyclical manner of pushing each other through positive energy and actions of encouragement day in and day out, I am ever so grateful. To have witnessed and supported him over these last years grow in the sport of ultra, and explore his strengths in many aspects of life, I can't help but smile.
   
        To me, Jeff has been invincible since he started running these longer distances. For the most part he has existed harmoniously with minimal injury and increasing speeds. Only until just recently on a training run where something in his foot began to disagree with him. These last weeks I have watched him struggle with a foot issue that has for the most part,  gone undiagnosed. I can see the worried look in his eyes as he rolls his calves out, when we takes a step and it doesn't feel right, or when he focuses any extra time in doing his strengthening exercises. I can feel his strength in determination to heal himself so he can be out there doing what he thought was "crazy" only two years ago.  Everything he does to mend himself is a reminder to me of how fortunate I am to share in such a unique sport with my best friend. It's no longer a solo act where people question my sanity. It's now a dynamic duo act where we understand what the other is going through at any given time, and can relate and be there to poke fun when unnecessary, not take each other too seriously,  or no longer cringe when that toenail falls off.
   
      In a recent trip helping our buddy Gary Robbins  set the FKT around Mt. Rainier on the Wonderland trail, there was a moment that stuck out to me above everything else. It was when Ethan Newberry who was documenting the adventure asked Gary if he had anything to say to his wife Linda who was back home. Gary expressed his sincere gratitude and love in being so fortunate to have found a life partner who supports and brings out his best qualities to enhance every part of his life, pushing him to be the best version of himself that he's capable of. By challenging him and believing that he is capable of feats like this when he is not equally as certain. I couldn't help but to look over at Jeff knowing Gary's words echoed everything I've ever experienced since meeting Jeff up on that ridge.
   
      I have no idea what to expect when Jeff steps up to the start line this Saturday, but what I do know is I get to watch him fight for what he wants to accomplish because he's stubborn, and he's strong. I get to support the person who brings out my best qualities and enhances every aspect of my life from sun up to sun down. To me, there's no greater comparison to the joy it all brings. So enjoy your journey love, whatever that may be!

Suns out buns out! Tahoe Rim Trail.

Bryce Canyon- 100 Miles of Surrender

Why? Why was I finding myself willingly and just barely able to place one foot painfully in front of the other in the middle of Utah’s high desert mountains, while the rest of the world went on with business as usual? Screw you mother nature! I thought you were supposed to be my awe inspiring friend that opened my mind and heart to deep love and experiencing life at its fullest? My teacher that challenged me to grow. I wanted you to be gentle! Around mile 62, I realized gentle was out of the question, and the learning had only just begun.

About five years ago I was just beginning to “dabble” in the sport of trail running. I hated hills, and rolling my ankles only made my disdain for technical terrain even worse. For whatever reason, I kept finding myself on them. Maybe because it was a new challenge that I was too stubborn to be defeated by. Maybe it was helping me come to the realization that an old relationship needed to come to an end. Whatever “it” was kept me coming back and I soon discovered the trail running community. After developing new friendships over intriguing bowel movement discussions while talking about life’s most trivial challenges, I knew I had found where I belonged. Years later and with many, many trail miles under my belt, ultra distances I had raced, and 100 mile races I had been part of a crew or pacer for, I finally believed I was ready to toe my own 100 mile line. I had chosen the Bryce 100 in the unique desert mountains of Utah. I set my goals and I prepared for this journey with everything I had. I envisioned myself standing confident and stronger than ever at the line right before our race director Matt yelled, “GO!” Instead, the creeping realization made itself quite apparent as I looked around at all of the other runners. Jenn, you idiot.

Days earlier myself, and my badass crew, Jeff (my sig fig) and Moe, had flown into Vegas ready to get the 100 mile party started. Because I was adamant about this trip being EXTREMELY cost effective, we had spent about an hour and a half in a line believing Moe was getting deported, and Jeff was going to jail for punching the foreigner that gave him the wrong look, waiting to pick up our rental car from what appeared to be the DMV from hell. I had booked an economy car, the Toyota Yaris, and quickly realized with one look from Jeff, that I had made a terrible mistake. “We’re going to pop those tires driving on those roads! There’s no way we can fit our luggage and our bodies into that thing! What were you thinking?!” These were a few of the choice words my faithful crew was relaying to me, and before I knew it Jeff had paid for an upgrade to a full size vehicle. In the end, I am beyond grateful he did this, and still stood by my belief the Yaris would have been just finnneee.

What happens in Vegas

We headed out without getting deported or going to jail, and were on our way to the one and only, Circus Circus hotel. Flashy lights, fancy cars, and people of all shapes, sizes, and languages, made for the most entertaining drive in. I checked us in for our stay thinking we would be staying in the main extravagant tower with an incredible view of the strip. Instead we were ushered to the much less glamorous, and somewhat sketchy, building around the block. Ballin on a budget, and this is what you’ll get. We were greeted with a condom lying on the hallway floor that seemed to have lost its owner. Jeff and Moe couldn’t contain themselves and began harassing me again for my choice to do this trip on the cheap. Needless to say we slept great! The next morning we shared more laughs and quivered at the fact the condom hadn’t been magically cleaned, or picked up over night. A quick stop at IHOP, a fake photo of Jeff and I posing in front of a Vegas wedding chapel, and we were headed for Bryce!

We would arrive at our camp four hours later to meet up with my parents who had made the trek up in their vintage 80’s motorhome to cater to our diva needs for the weekend. Just as we pulled in Jeff immediately points out the Polygamous group meandering the grounds. The entertainment and curiosity that this one entailed, was relentless. Mom and dad got us settled in and we headed out for a jaunt to see what we were getting ourselves into at 8,000 feet. Huffing and puffing, I quickly became terrified that I would be running 100 miles here, and about 1,000 feet higher than our current elevation. Focus Jenn, you got this. Your lungs are simply acclimating and adjusting for awesomeness. The mental demons started to sneak in, and I hadn’t even broken a sweat! The next day we rested and headed out for the evenings pre race meeting. Jeff and Moe listened with persistent attention, and as I stood listening to Matt ramble on about this amazing event, my mind was in a fog. Think hamster on a wheel spinning so fast that dust is spewing to cloud the view of everything around it, and this was my brain. I looked around at the audience captivated by Matt’s presentation, and realized I needed to be alone.

Moe with parting words of advice for me

What’s sleep? After packing up every last detail for crew and myself, I realized it didn’t matter how early or late I was in bed. Sleep wasn’t in the cards. I lay there looking up at the blank wooden ceiling that my dad had stripped the old flower wall paper from, thinking to myself, well... you’re here now. I closed my eyes only to open them almost immediately up to the sound of my alarm. I hit snooze thinking I could steal eight minutes of sleep. I took a few deep breaths, flipped on the coffee pot, and stepped outside to feel the morning air. It was so quiet, so still, and it welcomed me. Alright kiddo, buckle up. We poured out of the RV and into the car. Jeff handed me his ipod and encouraged me to listen to anything that would relax me and put me in the zone. “Life is Hard,” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros drowned out the buzz happening all around me, and allowed me to make peace with my intentions as we headed to the start. WAIT! I forgot my bib number! Flip the car back to base camp, grab the bib I had ever so neatly folded into my jeans pocket from the night before, and we were right back to the line. This is it, don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Quit freaking out. You’re freaking out! Smile for the pictures, tell Jeff I love him, receive Moe’s parting advice, hug my parents, join the rest of my kind at the line. Again, Matt addressed the crowd with his excitement and brief intro while my brain silenced him out. The only sound I heard was the lub dub, lub dub, lub dub, beating hard against my chest. I took in one last, honest glimpse of the scenery around me knowing I would see it again within the next 36 hours. “GET OUTTA HERE!” Just like that, we were free. A complete sense of calm rushed over me as I could hear my crew hollering yips and yaps as they watched me race away down the road. Now the magic begins. I warn you, if you don’t want to listen to a 25 year old youngin’ talk to you experienced folk about life lessons and values, you should probably step away now. For it is here where I will get on my soap box to tell you I have it all figured out.  Kidding! Or am I? =)

Here we go! Starting up Coyote Hollow trail.

My plan was simple. Run an extremely conservative first half of the race, gain valuable insight into the course since it was an out and back, and DESTROY the back half. A fool proof plan I say! How hard could that be? That’s the 25 year old, “this is my first time!” thought process. I wore Jeff’s Suunto Ambit 3 watch to keep track of my pace, and to keep myself running smart. It actually made a huge difference in my ability to contain my fresh off taper legs that wanted to go.

From zero to 1st aid-10.5 miles: The first two miles is a meandering dirt road until you hit trail. I watched the fast guys take off with reckless abandonment as the rest of us sat back and settled into our melodic movement. Approaching the Coyote Hollow trailhead, I was relieved to be off the road and excited to check out this insanely beautiful course I had only seen photos of. The hoodoos are a geological phenomenon that I couldn’t comprehend even being right in front, alongside, and behind them. These first miles melted by, and about a half a mile from the aid station a group of women had caught up to me, we exchanged names, and began notorious giggling as we rolled in to grab a snack. Oh look! I have cell service. Better alert the crew that I’m through the first aid station feelin’ great! This would be the last time I even considered pulling out my phone.

10.5 to Proctor aid station-mile 19: Ok, what’s going on with my two big toenails. They’re achy and not making good friends with the front of my toe box. Whatever, they’ll figure themselves out. Eight more miles to my crew. Seven more. Six more. This weather is amazing! Why is everybody and their mother hiking the slightest of inclines? Crap, do they know something I don’t know? Four miles to crew. The suunto was reading that my pace was staying between 10:30-12:00 min/miles and I couldn’t be happier at how easy it felt to maintain this. I was now running with my new friend Amy who rocked rainbow knee high compression socks. I was beyond thrilled to have her in front of me providing such a colorful distraction. We talked about our plan for the rest of the race, her recent adventures, and then we separated as I pulled ahead on the final climbs to Proctor. I could hear my wild banshees yipping at me with even more excitement than at the start. Moe was all business as he checked in with me and filled my pack. I was so excited to hug Jeff and have my friend Ian show up unexpectedly to be an amazing, positive addition to the crew. My mom snapped as many photos as she could without me wanting to chuck the phone into oblivion, I gave Moe a solid thumbs up, a slap on the toosh from Jeff, and off I went. Realizing I wouldn’t see them again until around mile 42 made my heart a little heavier this time around. It became even heavier with the death climb into the next aid.

Proctor to Blubber Creek- mile 28: Plateau, plateau, plateau to the plateau I go! It was rugged, it was steep, it was technical, it was awesome! I was now at the “office,” and working hard to maintain steady breathing and power myself up this relentless madness. I was alone for the entire nine mile climb into this aid station, that is until a small group of enthusiastic racers passed me in the final push. The respect I was developing for this course began to take root as I pressed my palms deep into my quads for an extra push up the ascent. Finally, I was atop this plateau and thrilled to see the white point of the aid station tent come into view. This aid stop was much quieter, mostly due to its remote location, but the spirits of the runners coming in around me were high. A few orange slices, some ginger ale, and a nutella tortilla down the hatch and it was time to tie some more single track together.

Blubber Creek to Kanab- mile 37: These miles tested my patience. I was beginning to fatigue without any great reason. In hindsight, running between 8-9,000 feet was probably reason enough. More people began to catch me and there wasn’t much I could do about it. They were laughing, and making ridiculous statements about who knows what. Why was I frustrated? The weather was still holding out beautifully, and I was getting that much closer to seeing my crew again. My thoughts became quiet, and I continued to press on in hopes this mood would pass. Immediately upon descending, my spirits lifted immensely! Apparently, Jenn gets altitude grumpy, and yes, that’s a thing!

Leaving Straight Canyon Aid- Mile 42

Kanab to Crawford pass- Halfway there! Mile 52: From Kanab to my crew at the straight canyon aid station was only five miles. Phew! I could knock this out no problem. It was a gentle down the entire length, all I had to do was surrender to gravity. “SUPERFREAK! AHHHH! HERE SHE COMES!!!” Thanks for the never ending enthusiasm Mom, but you’re kind of freaking me out. Mom ran behind me yelling with joy until I arrived at the rest of the crew. I could see quite clearly Moe was readying for the next time I’d see him where he would pick me up as my first pacer. “This is hard.” I made the statement very clearly to Jeff with a smile still on my face. “The climbs are no joke, Ian, your mountains are insanely ridiculous!” Ian lives in Utah and was thrilled I was getting to see her in her finest hour. I made a brief mention of my ankles starting to flare, but in the same breath acknowledged the problem would more than likely work itself out. Silly me. I was much more encouraged leaving my people this time knowing the next time meant I would officially not be running alone, and in fact, in the company of my favorites. Off I went.

Beautiful meadows, darkening skies, and an electric energy that filled my body for the next big climb into Pink Cliffs aid station. Then it happened. A flash, and the loudest crack followed by a BOOM, my eardrums had ever experienced. A rock concert had nothing on what mother nature had in store. The rains came, and soon enough turned to hail that pierced my cold skin with each strike. YEAH! OUCH. SHIT. Seriously?? Ok, we’re done. STOP! Is that all you got?! I was on an emotional rollercoaster at this point, and then the chill set in to my bones. GREAT! I knew my base layers and warm gear was sitting neatly folded in my bag with my crew. Don’t slow down, you’ll get colder. Flash, crack, BOOM. This was madness, and I’m no specialist, but I’m pretty sure they tell you NOT to be headed for the highest, most exposed point on a mountain during lightning storms? I burst into laughter at this realization and it was this humor that carried me up into the aid station. It was a battlefield here. People huddled around space heaters, blue lips, cups of broth to warm up the hands, violent trembling all around, blank stares, and everything else that encompassed an individual looking entirely defeated. I knew I needed to get warm, but I couldn’t let the scene I was witnessing get to me so I needed to get warm, get food, and get out. The skies parted and I was off. My ankles were really talking to me now and the downhill wasn’t going to be my friend for the next few miles. On my way down I saw my friend Zac who was already on his way home from the turnaround point, and we exchanged a quick hug where he expressed he was having one hell of a day. Seeing your friends on any course is a comforting familiarity that I tend to fully embrace with the support it provides. I was almost there. I convinced myself I was so close I could even smell my moms overwhelming scent of perfume. The downhill had become a flowing river of slick red clay, and it was with my greatest effort not to slip and fall into this slop. I heard yelling.

Rolling into Crawford, Moe was dressed in his standard neon green running vest with hydration pack, and bottle belt around his waist. He was ready to churn some serious dirt. Whenever I was coming into the aid stations their smiles were infectious. Mom rubbed my back as I grabbed quesadillas, chips, and downed ginger ale. I was impressed that my stomach had held strong for so long as I’m normally one to experience unpleasant issues in this department. Jeff and Ian began to attach a dream catcher to my pack, and would add another for every aid station I saw them at until the finish. “These will let the bad thoughts through and hold onto the good.” I was on track for a sub 24 hour finish at this point, but as we set out to begin the trek home, I knew time was slowly escaping me and I was going to have to be ok with it.

Crawford to Straight Canyon- Mile 62: The storm had cleared out, and Moe got a mouthful of what the experience was like for me. I tried to keep my ankle pain a secret, and eventually had to give up the intel. Moe was encouraging and was persistent in keeping me moving forward, physically and mentally. I was power hiking, huffing, and insisting on walk breaks as we made our way back up to Pink Cliffs aid. I worried that the river the course had turned into would be awful coming down the back technical section of this portion. To my amazement, the dryness properties of the high desert remedied this issue quite well and just as we were through the aid station, we were down the backside with no wreckage. I should mention this part of the race being the most emotionally captivating, and breathtaking with the formation of the pink cliffs, I’d ever experienced in my life. It brought me to tears as Moe snapped a photo just before it was out of view. Onward and forward, Jeff was up next.

Straight Canyon to Proctor- Mile 84: Jeff didn’t know it, and neither did I, but we both had our work cut out for us at this point. His excitement when he picked me up made the pain of my ankles vanish if only for a moment. I downloaded the miles with Moe to him, how my ankles were wrong, and how I was operating mentally. He took the wheel from here, and I knew his support going into the night was exactly the kind I was going to be in need of. He made jokes and told me how the day had been panning out with my parents, the other runners, and how much he was enjoying himself. His words were soft pillows providing cushion for the pain I was trying to mentally override with each footstep. His energy oozed from his pores and into mine, and my spirits were lifted. Yes we were moving slow, but neither of us cared, we knew there was something bigger happening than a fast finishing time.

Darkness fell and my thoughts were void. All I had were physical sensations of pain giving me feedback. Jeff would look back to check on me, and the first time he saw the suffering in my face, he dropped his pants for a full moon. I just about died. Finally a thought crept into my mind. I’m the luckiest woman alive to be out here with this man. Again, tears poured down my cold face. I was quickly being stripped down to nothing but the ability to move one foot in front of the other. No thinking, no eating, no nothing. Just moving forward, and that was the only job I was capable of doing. Jeff literally had to force feed me when I began to sleep walk. “You have to eat!” “NO!” He would then tear open a gu, or uncap Expedition Espresso Trail Butter, and force it down. I hated, and loved him for this. “We’ll get to the next aid station and you can sit down and have some coffee. You have to eat more. Just know that rest is coming.” I set small goals from tree to tree to move myself along. Jeff let me call the shots for when we ran, and gave me an, “atta girl!” when I moved faster than usual. Blubber Creek aid station provided warmth and brief refuge from the drizzle that kept us damp for the night. I saw familiar faces, said my hellos with brief acknowledgement for our current status, and kept quiet. “I’m going to puke.” I walked outside to take care of this and realized it wasn’t puke that was about to happen. As I sat on a log in plain sight to anyone passing by, I thought to myself, “I don’t even give a shit.” Pardon the language. All I hoped for was that Jeff wouldn’t emerge from the tent during this low point I was finding myself in.

Finishing up, we left Blubber Creek and were Proctor bound. We had to move efficiently to warm ourselves up into the chilled night air. The mountains are unforgiving when you’re unprepared, and our lack of warm attire made us just that. There were 9.5 technical downhill miles ahead of us. My ankles were sending out so many pain signals to my brain, that I knew it wouldn’t get much worse. We hiked down, one excruciating step at a time. I knew that I didn’t have to think, I just had to execute my mission. I was finishing this beautiful asshole if it was the last thing I did. Again, apologies for my vulgarity. Down, and down we went, until it was up, and up, and up. “This is a joke,” I would say out loud to myself. Jeff even began cursing the course for its level of difficulty at this point. I was happy at his recognition, for it made me feel like I was truly accomplishing something great. “This meadow means we’re almost there!” I could have sworn it. Nope. “This meadow is definitely it though,” I would say as we passed another one. I was wrong every time. Dawn began to break, and Jeff looked back at me to exclaim, “Look Love, you made it!” I saw the white tipped point of the tent and immediately panicked as I realized this meant I would be saying goodbye to my best friend who had just endured with me so much of what I didn’t even understand yet. “I don’t want you to leave me,” was all I could mutter. We were both crying, emotional wrecks.

Proctor Aid to Finish- Mile 102: I sat. I ate pancakes. I peeled injini socks off of each toe where every toenail was a bloody mess of cohesion to the fabric. I was completely numb, but I could smell home. Auto pilot had been activated. I looked at Jeff who was watching my attempts to rid myself of these socks, with tears streaming down his face. I couldn’t handle this, but in the same breath, seeing him emotionally vulnerable like this didn’t happen very often, if ever. I welcomed his tears as something extremely positive that gave me a profound reason to cross the finish line. He sobbed into my shoulder as we said our goodbyes. Just like that, Moe and I were homeward bound. He positioned himself right behind me, and we stayed quiet with the climb out of the aid station. “You doing ok?” The silence caught me off guard as he wasn’t his chatterbox self. “I’m good Superfreak, just let me know what you need. You’re doing great.” I knew he hadn’t slept a blink for the time I was out on course. He was as invested in this race, and emotionally spent as I was. I choked back tears as I realized this. After spending many miles with Moe during our training runs together, and pacing him for his 100’s, there was no one more appropriate to cross my first 100 finish line with. I let him know we’d mostly be walking, but there would be periods when I could bust out my trail “shuffle.” To do this, simply swing your arms as hard as you can, and hope your legs follow suit. There was a period after taking some advil where the pain was masked enough to let me “shuffle” for about three minutes that felt more like thirty. We caught someone. No thinking, just moving. Keep watching Moe’s feet. When did his calves get so muscular? I’d be lost without that red bandana. I couldn’t believe he was toughing this out with me. Tears. Dammit Jenn, when did you become such a cry baby? From the cellular perspective of my body, I could tell my biochemistry was totally off balance with my ever changing wave of emotions. As we came into the final aid station with 7 miles to go, I forced some french toast down, and asked Moe to send a text out to the crew letting them know we were coming home.

The last section of the course is the most visually stimulating with Hoodoo formations, ridgelines that provided 360 degree views of the beauty you were surrounded in, and larger than life boulders that framed the scenery. Shuffle, walk, huff, moan in pain, shuffle some more. I kept Moe in view just ahead of me instead of looking down at my pathetic feet as they attempted something like flexion. This is is Jenn. You’re doing it. We passed a familiar set of boulders that I thought had meant we were about four miles out. Of course these were the wrong set of boulders that I had in mind, and realized this thirty minutes later where the real boulders we were now passing about four miles from the finish, were. The last two miles tested every ounce of my strength and dignity. We were seeing the exact same geological formations that made us believe we were at the finish, around every single turn. “This one is it!” We both had a sense of false hope, and I began to enter into the mental breakdown. The physical state that my body was in with the ankles was horrifying. Reality was setting in that there may not even be a finish line, and we’d just be doomed to walk these desert mountains for the rest of eternity. Darkness surrounded me as I was bathed in sunshine. Moe grabbed my hand and began dragging me up the last climbs. My head hung, and the fact he was here with me while I was like this made my heart cry. “We’re never going to get there.” “Shutup freak, we will!” A mountain biker told us we were close, and twenty minutes later when we still hadn’t arrived, I was contemplating putting up WANTED signs with a bounty on his head. Then it happened. Racers who had finished were hanging out on the course hollering we had no more than 200 yards to go. Straight up were those remaining yards where Moe pulled me up with my heart in his hand. “You’ll cross this finish line on your own.” “NO! You have to cross with me. I wouldn’t be crossing without you.” “You’re on your own Superfreak, and it has to be that way. You did this.” That stubborn ass! Why was he abandoning me when I couldn’t bare the thought of him letting go of my hand? Then the finish line came into sight, and with every last fighting breath I began my shuffle to my first 100 mile finish. Moe let me go and ran to Jeff who was waiting alongside as I ran by. They yelled, they cheered, and just like that, I was done. That was it. What the hell just happened? Before I had a moment to think I was scooped up in the embrace of Moe, Jeff, and Ian. 29 hours and 53 minutes later, now it was my turn to sob into Jeff’s shoulders.

Mom and Dad may have accidentally slept through seeing me at the finish line, but I couldn’t have held it against them too long. This was their first time experiencing an ultra event to this extent. It was okay. I welcomed their hugs when they arrived as I sat speechless on a log. The road to recovery was underway.

Their support meant the world. 

Finishing: Before this race, I was under the impression I had completed life events that challenged my spirit and gave me the most valuable lessons one would ever need to succeed the game of life. Only life is not a game. It’s this complex network of connection to something greater. The connection with ourselves to this earth we walk every damn day we wake up and take a breath. The connection to our families, our friends, our mind, body, and spirit. This race chewed me up and tried with all of its might, to spit me out. It presented me with physical pains I didn’t know possible, and showed me the pain was my friend. The pain forced me to be completely present in the midst of chaos. My mind gave me the unknown ability to transcend the pain and find complete happiness in the sounds of my breath. I wouldn’t call this event a race for me. I would call it surviving. By surviving, I realized that food, water, pain, relentless passion for doing what makes you happy, and the support of community, was how I achieved my connection to life at its purest. Everything is so much more beautiful when one is removed from their natural state of comfort. When one is forced to survive. Being at my lowest points during the Bryce 100, I was alive. I am alive!

To Jeff, Moe, Mom, Dad, Ian, and those of you who supported and followed along, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, your support carried me through and gave me reason. I may have crossed the finish line physically alone, but I carried with me each and every one of you who has supported, harassed, and shared laughs with me through the years leading up to this, with me. Now get yourself to a trail and bust some ankles! Until next time.

-Jenn

Bryce 100, we did it! Now can I please sit down?