I know what a 4,000-foot ascent on the high-altitude trails of the San Juan Mountains feels like. It makes me winded, tired, relaxed, pleasantly dirty, sometimes lightheaded, mildly dehydrated, always awed by the landscape and deeply satisfied.
I know because I’ve raced and paced ultras in these mountains that have elevation profiles that look as spiky as a seismograph in an earthquake, with multiple passes that go up and back down some 4,000 feet. To summit and descend just one of these mountains from the town of Telluride while breathing thin air, on trails made of loose softball-sized rocks inclined to twist ankles, takes about half a day.
So how would it feel, I wondered, to more than double that elevation gain in a day, climbing and descending more than 8,000 feet, for seven days straight? Last week, I found out.
I accepted the challenge of the Limitless Vertical Challenge put on by Run Steep Get High (a branch of Aravaipa Running), which took place from May 25 – 31 and attracted over 1200 participants worldwide. The idea is simple in concept, grueling in execution: Accumulate as much vertical gain as you can during the week.
Distance didn’t matter; you could choose flatter routes and log more mileage, or steeper routes and accumulate less mileage—your choice. Speed didn’t matter except insofar as it’s wise not to dilly-dally so that you can log more vert and also have time for real-life stuff and sleep at day’s end. Also, if you finish the challenge in fewer days, then you’ll rank above a competitor who chooses to take the full week.
All that really counted was total elevation gain. The event had three categories:
- Trail/Outdoors: This is the category I did. It can be either paved or trail; I did 95% trail surface, running pavement only on side streets in town on my way to a trailhead.
- Treadmill: A lot of people in urban environments did this. On a treadmill, you only have to go uphill, not down, which theoretically makes it easier. But I think treadmills present an exhausting challenge mentally as well as physically, and it’s not something I’d want to do!
- Combo: some combo of trail/outdoor plus treadmill.
Participants are challenged to hit different levels, and they earn a badge for each level achieved. The top three levels also earn belt buckle prizes. This chart from the event’s site illustrates it:
I set my sight on Level 5, Everest, at 29K’. My primary goal was to do about 33K’ over some 100 miles, because this would be the equivalent of the Hardrock 100, admittedly significantly easier than the real Hardrock race because it’d be spread out over a few days and not reach Hardrock’s heights of 13 – 14K’ summits due to impassable high-country snow. But I wanted the satisfaction of doing my own “Softrock” version of a virtual Hardrock.
As for Level 6, a Double Everest? That seemed—well, I couldn’t even get my head around it. I had DNF’ed at the 2018 Ouray 100 around mile 66, and the Ouray 100 has 41K+’ of elevation gain. Knowing how excruciating that event felt, I couldn’t fathom stretching from 41 to 58K feet of vert, with an equal amount of quad-crushing descent.
But, I could break that total amount into pieces for each day. 58,058 divided by 7 equals 8294. What if I tried averaging 8300 feet of gain daily, and just take it day by day and see if I could manage that? Thus I formulated my stretch goal: to average 8300 each day of the week. That would get me to Level 6.
My last blog post describes what compelled me to take on this challenge. I craved a week of solo trail time in the wilderness to contemplate what I want to do for the next decade and to feel adventurous again. I also wanted to reactivate my mountain-athlete self. With races cancelled and our household’s sickness this spring, I wasn’t feeling particularly motivated or strong. This week-long challenge seemed like the perfect thing to substitute for two big races I had hoped to do: the Mauna to Mauna self-supported stage race in May, and the High Lonesone 100 in July (both got cancelled).
I didn’t know what to expect or whether I could do it. That’s what made it an adventure.
Day 1, Monday, May 25
13.5 miles, 4222′
By 8 a.m., I started up the zig-zag old mining road toward Bridalveil Falls. I felt impatient and set out at an aggressive pace, trying to run the straight parts of the uphill road and hike only the steeper hairpin turns. Pretty soon I realized I was being foolish to push the pace and spike my breathing. I relaxed into a more sustainable hiking pace on the upward slope. I had the whole day and then the whole week ahead, so I had to be a tortoise and cultivate patience.
I thus settled into a pace that would become the standard for the week: brisk hiking uphill at around 20 – 25 minutes/mile, sometimes as slow as 30 minutes/mile on the steepest and gnarliest stretches; then slow running and shuffling on the flats and downhills at a pace of around 11 – 15 minutes/mile. During the week to come, the technical terrain, fatigue in my legs, and caution to prevent tripping and falling all combined to impede my pace on the downhills. Generally speaking, I averaged 3 miles/hour or 20 minutes/mile.
When I got toward the top of Bridalveil Road heading toward the Wasatch Basin, above the historic Powerhouse, the whole trail became icy, which was lovely, but treacherous. The rocky trail had become a stream bed with all the runoff flowing down it, and the temperature in the low 30s had frozen its top. Curtains of icicles hung from rock walls, and I could hear a little tinkling noise of them tinkling almost drowned out by the louder noise of the river of snowmelt. I kept slipping and sliding.
Then, because the trail is shaded and north-facing, I encountered snow much lower than expected. I started post-holing through the icy crust of the snow, and after about a quarter mile concluded, “This is ridiculously inefficient.” Therefore I turned around at about 10.9K’ elevation, disappointed to have gained “only” 2000′ on this first climb. The sobering reality of trying to gain 8300 of vert today, and every day, was sinking in!
Beautiful icicles lining the icy, snowy trail at the top of Bridalveil.
I paused to soak in some warm sun at the first turnaround point.
On the second ascent of Bridalveil, I took the new twisty singletrack trail up the first mile, appreciating how the recently opened trail threads through massive rocks and skirts a hidden waterfall below the main Bridalveil cascade. Then, after the trail popped back onto the Jeep road, I decided to try going up Black Bear Road (another old mining road) as high as I could get, toward Ajax Peak. Alas, an icy, dangerous snowfield completely covered the road, so I had to turn back. (This would become a theme of the week.)
I reminded myself that some people are trying to do this limitless challenge in ridiculously hot climates like Arizona, so I’m darn lucky to encounter snow and to feel cool temps.
Snow blocking Black Bear Pass. The snow field extends down the mountain to a drop-off, so slipping and sliding would be very dangerous. Note the rocky footing under the snow. This is typical of the footing on most of the trails.
Once I returned to the base, I did one more hill repeat of about 500 feet, then finished this run and headed to town to visit my dad at the cemetery and get lunch.
Run 2: Memorial Day visit to Dad’s site
1 mile, 259′
I didn’t want Memorial Day to pass without paying respects to my dad, who died in 2013. I figured I could do some hill repeats there, too, imagining that Dad would get a kick out of seeing me run up and down the hill. I immediately got teary when I saw that the local Elks Club had put out flags on former Elks members’ grave sites, including his. I wished he could see it. He had been such a loyal member and poker player there. (I used to ask him what “BPOE” meant, and he’d say, “Best People On Earth!” The correct answer is, “Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks.”)
This visit kind of undid me emotionally, and I had to sit for a bit and calm my feelings. I said thanks to Dad for all the times he cheered me on in my ultras, and all the times he wrote paragraphs in his Fantasy Golf newsletters, which he sent out to far-flung friends, describing how his youngest daughter was doing the Boston Marathon or running a race across a Utah desert. Each year I miss him more, not less; how can that be? I think it has to do with regret that I distanced myself and dismissed him in his final years, because his personality became increasingly difficult, so now when I visit, I apologize and try to make up for that ending.
I said goodbye and refocused on the 4000′ more of elevation gain I needed to do by day’s end.
Run 3: Mill Creek > Deep Creek > Sneffels Highline + Mill Creek Road repeats
14.5 miles, 4255′
Not much to say about this outing, except it was beautiful, and hard. I parked at the base of Mill Creek Road, across from the Shell station outside of town, and went up the Deep Creek Trail to the Sneffels Highline Trail until deep snow at just over 11K’ made further ascent more trouble than it was worth. I returned via the Eider Creek Trail. Then I gutted out three 600′ hill repeats from the base of Mill Creek Road. I distracted myself with an engaging audio book, The Mother-In-Law by Sally Hepworth.
On the Sneffels Highline Trail’s west side, at about 11,000′ elevation.
At the end of the day, Day One, I felt tired, but not exhausted. Mostly, I felt stressed and rushed. It was past dinnertime when I got home! I had emails to answer, clients to check on, housework to do, plus I had to take care of myself with eating, stretching and resting to be ready for tomorrow. I realized this challenge would consume the entire day each day this week. I therefore cleared my calendar of appointments as much as possible, committing to make this challenge my “job” this week. I recognized how fortunate I am to have a flexible schedule and supportive family allowing me to do this.
Total for Monday: 29 miles, 8736′
Day 2, Tuesday, May 26
13 miles, 5246′
I woke up around 5:30 and went out to feed the horses and clean the manure from their paddock. Since I relied on Morgan to do all the other animal-related chores this week, I made sure to do this bit of horse care each morning. The gentle movement loosened me up and cleared my head. I was a bit sore from the prior day, but not too tired, and I didn’t have any cause for concern injury-wise.
My lungs were my only cause for concern. They had flared up with inflammation, as they’re prone to do from heavy breathing on day-long ultras. I had a coughing fit and coughed up yellow gunk. Having my lungs stressed by Day 2 was not a good sign. I used an Albuterol inhaler to subdue the bronchospasm, but it didn’t help much. I realized I’d have to consciously practice slower, deeper nose breathing, which probably would make for an even slower pace on the uphills.
I went to town and parked at Carhenge (a public lot near the Valley Floor) and around 8 a.m. started up the Telluride Trail and Coonskin slope to the upper ski slopes, then I cut over to See Forever. Having last been here on skis during the ski season, I got a kick out of seeing the area void of people, the snow giving way to summer grass. I slowly, steadily made it all the way up to the top of The Plunge and See Forever (Chair 9) and marveled at the beauty and to having the place to myself. It was a 3000′ climb. Then I ran back down. My quads and knees began to ache and quiver.
Finally I reached my car, chugged a La Croix sparkling water and ate a banana, and turned around and went back up two-thirds of the way. Then back down, where I sat in my car and enjoyed a late lunch.
Top of Chair 9, around 11.8K’ elevation, after Day Two’s first ascent.
A snowy part of the See Forever ski slope that I hiked up and ran down.
9 miles, 3235′
I needed a little more than 3000 feet to reach the quota for Day Two. I wanted something mindless and predictable, so I went to Boomerang, a trail that rises 600 feet and connects the Valley Floor with Mountain Village. Could I do it five times? Sure, why not?
But after the first one, I remembered why Boomerang kind of sucks (very rocky footing, lots of mosquitoes due to the dampness, trees obscuring any views), so I called my daughter Colly and pleaded with her to come do a hill repeat with me since she was coming into town anyway to buy groceries. “It’s only a mile,” I said (later realizing my mistake—it’s a mile up the hill, but two miles round trip). She relented and joined me for repeat number 3. We had a good conversation, but by the top she was breathing hard and communicated her feelings with this gesture:
On the downhill, I was a bad mom and dropped her; she wanted to hike, and I needed to run to get done sooner. But we laughed about it. She encouraged me to keep going, so I did. I finished the five repeats and got home by dinnertime.
Total for Tuesday: 22.2 miles, 8481′
Day 3, Wednesday, May 27
Run 1: Liberty Bell & Tomboy Road
19 miles, 6404′
I had company for this run, thankfully! Sam Tischendorf joined me in the early morning for the first climb up the Jud Weibe and Liberty Bell trail (part of the Hardrock course). We turned around after about 2100 feet of ascent when snow on the shady switchbacks became too deep. I ran back down with her, said goodbye, then went back up the Jud Weibe and took a lesser-known side trail nicknamed the “Wild Weibe,” which connects to Tomboy Road.
Going up and down Tomboy to the old mines, I started to feel endorphins and elation as my creative juices began flowing and I brainstormed ideas for long-term projects. I felt super strong, experiencing what some might describe as “beastmode.” I realized I had reconnected with the feeling and daily rhythm of stage racing, and I felt like the competitor I was last fall at the Grand to Grand Ultra. It felt good! I did one more ascent up the Weibe to get my vert above 6000′ before taking a late lunch break.
Sam’s photo of me going up the Liberty Bell trail Wednesday morning. This photo shows the ski runs in the background that I went up and down at various times during the week.
Snack break at Tomboy Mines midday.
6.3 miles, 2497′
With less than 2500 feet of elevation gain needed for the remainder of the day, I headed to the base of the ski slopes and did four repeats on the bottom half of the Telluride Trail, going up twice as high on the final one. It was boring and I felt exhausted, but I got it done and logged the most daily vert gain for the week so far: 8900′.
Fatigued doing hill repeats on Telluride Trail at the end of the day.
Total for Wednesday: 25.3 miles, 8901′
Day 4, Thursday, May 28
Run 1: Sneffles Highline east side & Jud Weibe x 2
12.5 miles, 4560′
By this time midweek, the national news had gone from bad to worse in the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder by police at the start of the week. I listened to NPR as I began my first outing, absorbing the news of the protests and Trump’s inflammatory, divisive responses. I felt utterly depressed about America’s downward spiral, and guilty as if spoiled to be in my privileged wilderness bubble here in affluent Telluride, rather than back in the diverse East Bay where I had friends of color and helped the community through Running for a Better Oakland. What could I, and should I, do now? (In the following days, I would take some small steps, like donating to Campaign Zero to reduce police violence; making a connection with a Black-owned business that got trashed in downtown Oakland and donating to their GoFundMe; exchanging emails with an African-American friend to see how he’s doing under these circumstances; reposting some thoughtful essays on the topic—but really, it all feels like a drop in the bucket. We need to vote in November, and vote for change.)
With those thoughts in mind, I took solace in the peacefulness of the trail and the enduring nature of these mountains through the millennia.
On the first trek of the day, I made it up to about 11,300 feet elevation on the east side of the Sneffels Highline trail, until blocked by a too-risky snow traverse, then I tried to run well all the way down. My lungs continued to wheeze and give me coughing fits. My legs felt rubbery on the downhills, and I did everything in my power to prevent tripping and falling. So far, so good.
Snow blocking the trail near the top of the Sneffels Highline east side.
The ski runs as seen from the Sneffels Highline trail. The top of Chair 9–where I went earlier in the week and would go again this afternoon–is at the summit on the left side, on top of the three snowy runs.
Back in town, I got my cooler from the car, sat next to the San Miguel River with my bare feet in the water, at my cheese-and-avocado sandwich and did the math. I was at the halfway point, 3.5 days into the event, and had just met my main goal: to cover and climb the equivalent of Hardrock, 100 miles and 33,000 feet of elevation gain. I could end it right now and say “enough—I met my goal.”
Or, I could keep going and keep trying to meet the average of 8300 feet of gain daily for the Double Everest category.
I had no doubt about what I would do. I felt flush with determination and desire to keep going. I knew I could finish the second half of the week the way I had started it, as long as I prevented injury, and as long as I wanted to. Did I really want to spend the rest of today, all Friday, Saturday and Sunday doing so much hiking and running? Yes! It was a great feeling. I had gained the confidence that I CAN and WILL fulfill this challenge!
Lunchtime foot care.
Run 2: Back to the top of See Forever
9.5 miles, 3015′
I went back up those ski slopes, again, and let me tell you, those steps on the side of the See Forever trail felt mighty steep (because they are; see pics below). I had to hustle back down and get home for a phone conference at 5 p.m. related to community service volunteering.
Going up the See Forever run to get to the top of Chair 9.
Looking back down toward town.
Run 3: Sunset outing to make day’s goal
3.25 miles, 617′
It was dinnertime, but I hadn’t met 8K+ for the day. So I went out our front door at sunset for an hour and got enough elevation gain done to call it a day.
Epiphany of the day: “I didn’t train for this. This is the training!”
Total for Thursday: 25.25 miles, 8192′
Day 5, Friday, May 29
18.5 miles, 5095′
After yesterday’s high, my spirits and energy sagged today. Thankfully, Morgan was able to join me for a lap up Bridalveil. Two months ago, when he was still on supplemental oxygen to recover from covid pneumonia, we wondered if he’d be able to handle high-altitude hiking again. Having him and our dog by my side felt like a gift.
Morgan with me on a lap up Bridalveil on Friday morning.
But then he left, and I had to keep grinding.
7 miles, 2126′
I started this run late in the afternoon because I had an appointment in town and ran an errand. Just as I was getting out of the car, rainclouds gathered and began pouring. On the one hand, I loved it—we need rain! But on the other hand, I felt discouraged and slow, and the rain made me damp and chilled.
I went up the too-popular Bear Creek Trail and realized it was a poor route choice, as it’s relatively flat. But the Wasatach Trail (part of the Hardrock course) promised good switchbacks and elevation gain. I headed up those switchbacks in attack mode, feeling impatient and stressed to meet the day’s elevation gain goal.
But, at about 10,500 feet elevation, I encountered a big snow traverse. Damn, I should’ve known it would be there! I’ve struggled across it in past summers. Today, it looked far too slippery and steep to cross, and I didn’t want to risk sliding into the canyon below. Reluctantly, I turned back and descended to the base of the switchbacks, then went up them again as they became progressively muddy and slippery from rain, then all the way back to my car. I needed to get home, but I was short for the day.
Frustration that a dangerous snow traverse blocked the Wasatch Trail. It was raining, I was cold, and I didn’t know how or where I’d get enough elevation gain for the day.
Run 3: Two Mill Creek Road Repeats
4 miles, 1099′
Instead of going straight home, like I wanted to, I stopped at Mill Creek Road and did two hill repeats for another 1.1K’ gain for the day. There, I met the day’s quota!
Total for Friday: 29.5 miles, 8320′
Day 6, Saturday, May 30
4 miles, 728′
This week is really feeling like Groundhog Day! But, I’m grooving on the routine of waking up, taking care of the horses, catching up on a little bit of work, packing my lunch, and getting to town to start up a trail. I can’t tell whether I feel sad or relieved I have only two days left. My body feels surprisingly good. My “trouble spots” of a sore lower back and stiff upper hamstring actually are behaving themselves better. My lungs feel better too. My body seems to have adapted during the past five days to this high-volume, high-vert routine.
This morning, I altered the routine slightly; I did a short outing from home before heading to town, so that I could watch my daughter’s virtual college graduation ceremony when it came online. I headed out for an hour and felt dazzled by the sunrise color on Wilson Peak.
Wilson Peak at sunrise, seen from our driveway, as I started an early-morning run on Day 6.
Run 2: Eider to Deep Creek to Sneffels Highline
15.4 miles, 4957′
For the main run of Saturday, I went back to the west side of Sneffels Highline, where I had hiked on Monday afternoon (which seems like forever ago now), and I went all the way up it, back down, two-thirds back up it, down, then a hill repeat on Mill Creek Road for good measure. Music and an audiobook saved me. I needed distraction from fatigue.
Storm clouds moved back in, and it started raining hard and booming thunder. I didn’t mind. It felt refreshing.
Saturday storm clouds gathered around Wilson Peak and then blew toward me and dumped a good amount of rain.
8.4 miles, 2644′
To get another 2500+ feet for the day, I went back to Boomerang in the afternoon, planning to access the ski slopes via Mountain Village and the Ridge Trail. This route pops out on pavement midway and winds past the hotels, condos and oversized homes clustered around the ski resort. Emerging from the forested trail, I felt a little spooked by the utterly empty lodging. Because of the pandemic and the off season, I saw not a single person nearby, not a single vehicle drive by, not a single light on in the hundreds of vacant rooms. I made me want to rewatch the brilliant and hilarious 2009 short mockumentary, The Lost People of Mountain Village (Part 1 & Part 2), which I highly recommend.
I had forgotten how rocky and buggy the Ridge Trail is, so rather than go back down it, I cut over to the ski slopes under Chair 4, ran down them and through the deserted village core, and back down Boomerang. I did one-and-a-half more hill repeats to get the necessary vert for the day.
Very technical terrain and lots of mosquitos on the rocky Ridge Trail above Mountain Village.
Total for Saturday: 27.8 miles, 8329′
Day 7, Sunday, May 31
Congratulations and thank you for reading this far. We’ve made it to the Final Day!
Run 1: Back to Liberty Bell Trail and Tomboy Tunnel
10 miles, 3638′
Where to go today? I’ve done all the accessible, steep trails around town, so I’ve gotta repeat one. Back up Liberty Bell, back down, back up to Tomboy Tunnel. I’m on autopilot now, feeling drained.
Heading up the Liberty Trail one last time, on the final morning of the challenge, feeling like I need more sleep.
Run 2: Back up Liberty Bell Trail, again!
5 miles, 2142′
This second outing was an extension of the first one, but I stopped and then restarted my watch so it registers as a separate outing. I’m feeling really ready to be done. The loose-rock footing on the downhills makes my lower body feel more exhausted as I tense up to try to prevent tripping and falling. I’ve lost my ability to run downhill and can only shuffle and glide.
I took a lunch break after this and psyched myself up for the LAST CLIMB!
Run 3: Final Ascent & Descent on the Slopes
4.4 miles, 1942′
I am so close to being finished. I should feel happy, right? But I’m plagued with uncertainty. First, I don’t know how high and far to go. I want a cushion of a few hundred feet above the Double Everest level, so that there will be no doubt I met the challenge even if my GPS is slightly wonky. So I internally debate how much to do on this final outing. Should I keep going until midnight to get absolutely as much elevation gain as I can and perhaps place ahead of other competitors by gaining more vert than them? No, that’s silly. I need to get home and catch up on real-life stuff. Just finish what you set out to do.
I park at Carhenge and head up the Telluride Trail toward the slopes, again. I’m distracted by multiple texts from Morgan involving an issue with our son, so I keep pausing to respond. I’m moving so slowly, mosquitos land and bite all my limbs. My mood darkens like the storm clouds. I am not feeling the way I hoped to at the end. I am not finishing strong, I am not in beastmode. I am plodding. With each switchback I ask myself, “Do I turn around here? No, go one more. Here? Maybe. No. Shit.”
Another local ultrarunner, a woman named Karen who’s older than I, comes barreling down the mountain with limbs flowing and says hi. She looks so fast, fit and natural. I want to run like her, but after this week, I can’t. Yes, comparison is the thief of joy.
When I calculate that I must have ascended 2000 feet, and my cumulative total for the week would be several hundred above the Double Everest level of 58,058 feet, I decide, “enough!” I turn around and try to run as best I can back down.
Final turnaround on final ascent. I try to smile but my eyes show the fatigue.
I want to feel excited, elated, proud. But I feel empty and negative. A question nags, “What if this week was a gigantic waste of time and energy?” I take some comfort in recalling Meghan Hicks’ 2014 Tors des Geants report, when she too described feeling empty at the end. “I got nada, emotionally. I am a hollow machine doing what I’ve been commanded to do,” she wrote. Maybe my feelings are normal, the byproduct of exhaustion.
I secretly hope that one or more of my family members might be waiting for me at the end. But when I finally, wearily get to the bottom of the hill, only my car is there, in a nearly empty lot. At this point, raw emotions come flooding back, and I burst into tears. This is the finish line?! I feel an overwhelming sadness and longing for a real finish line, with real people giving real hugs and ringing stupid cow bells. I say out loud to no one, “Virtual events suck!”
My “finish line.”
I stop my watch and look at the elevation gain from this last climb. Shit, it’s only 1942 feet, not the 2000 I wanted. I cry harder. I’m a mess.
My phone rings, and it’s my sweet Colly. “Where are you? I’m going to come meet you at the end.”
“Thanks, but I’m already done.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! Well, I’ll be there soon,” she says. Ahh, maybe I’m a good mom after all. I raised her well.
Five minutes later, my daughter drives into Carhenge all bubbly, saying “yay, you did it!” She suggests reconstructing the finish-line moment. I just want to sit there. So she takes a selfie of her cheering me:
She really does cheer me up, although I’m still exhausted and mostly flat-lined emotionally. All I want to do is go home, do the math to figure my final totals, submit my results and then take a shower. I’m done.
Total for Sunday: 19.4 miles, 7722′
Total from the seven days: 179 miles, 58,684 feet. For this, I get this badge, and a belt buckle on its way in the mail. I’m honestly excited about the buckle and plan to wear it.
Epilogue
Of course, I felt better after eating, resting and sleeping. I took two days off, then ran Wednesday morning, June 3, on a nice flat route, and I felt really good, on zippy legs. I’m excited to leverage fitness gains from the past week. The reality is setting in that I covered 179 miles last week, on tough and steep terrain in thin air, whereas 50 to 70 miles typically feels like a big week. Wow, that’s cool!
According to the results page (which is confusing because it lumps all three categories of trail/treadmill/combo together), 77 people—60 men, 17 women—made it to the Double Everest level. I placed 6th Female and 18th overall in the Trail/Outdoor category. I was the only woman over 50 to reach the Double Everest, and I believe I was the only one to do it on high-altitude mountain trails rather than at or near sea level.
I’ve concluded that the week’s challenge was not a gigantic waste of time and energy, as I had considered on Sunday’s final descent to the end. Rather, it was a life-affirming gift and an adventure. While it felt like drudgery at times, it felt dramatic and uplifting at others. It reminded me that we are capable of accomplishing very tough things if we put our minds to it and break the big task into smaller pieces. It boosted my confidence and renewed a little bit of optimism.
It made me tell myself, then and now, Keep going. You can do it.
Wow, way to gut it out ! Also, I loved the Day 3 tired puppy photo, super cute.
Nice work!
Great post! The bit about dad was especially touching. Insane challenge; so impressed that you rose to it!
Sarah, sorry it took me a while to respond but I wanted to read all of it before I did. WOW! I am so impressed and inspired by what you accomplished! Those trails look super gnarly and that, plus the thin mountain air, must have made an already difficult challenge so much harder. You’ve truly inspired me to embark on my own mini-adventure later this summer. Maybe sooner than I’d thought – I really loved what you said about “I didn’t train for this; this IS the training.” Way to go, my friend!!
This is so inspiring! The results alone are such an accomplishment, but I especially appreciate how you transported us as readers into your adventure and challenges. You traversed all these miles AND took the time to notice and note and share so much of it. I especially love the little snippets of your solo aid stations: your car, the river, your father’s grave. All those singular moments in one day that were so full and life giving, and yet you could still reach for more. Again and again you said yes, and continued to persist and resume running, fitting these gems of aid stations into the bigger picture of your sustained adventure. Congratulations—and yes, wear that buckle!
Fantastic account of an incredible challenge, accompanied by your characteristically insightful reflections and lessons. Thanks for sharing.
Belated comment — So inspiring and moving! I appreciate you taking the time to eloquently detail each day’s challenges, emotions, and highs and lows. I’m a 58-y.o. woman in your former stomping grounds (East Bay) who began returning to trail running in January, inch by inch, after 30 years (!) away for health reasons. Your website is one of the many beautiful resources feeding my “stoke.” Thank you!