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I finally reached the second aid station, refilled my water and electrolytes again, kissed my husband and hugged my dad, and I was off again, significantly behind schedule and significantly sorer than I wanted to be. I had somewhere around 800 feet of climb left before I hit the peak. It was about this time that I modified my goal from completing the course in under 7.5 hours to just not being dead last. By this point, my sister was a full mile and a half ahead of me and well into the first major downhill stretch. The moment I crested the peak, the last 12 miles were immediately worth it. The view was quite literally
I hobbled my way into aid station Delta, and a couple of angel volunteers refilled my water and electrolytes, gave me peach juice, and cheered me on as I left for the final stretch. According to the website, I only had 4.5 miles left. When I asked the volunteers if that was correct, they said, “Something like that.” Not the most encouraging, but at least it was all downhill from there to the finish line. Or so I thought. Nearly immediately past the aid station was another hill. In all reality, it could not have been more than a couple hundred feet of gain, but it felt deeply personal. By this point, I was doing mental gymnastics to figure out how much further the finish line was. My watch said I had just over a mile and a half left before the finish line, making the run longer than the 31.6 miles the website claimed. Reality hit when the final stretch was marked with a sign “1.8 to the finish line!” I had hit 50K a quarter mile ago. I ran (waddled) the next mile and a half, fueled by pure spite. My body had nothing left. I had been on the course two hours longer than my goal. I was exhausted. One sweet
breathtaking. I felt like I could see forever. I took a moment to take it in, catch my breath, and begin my descent back down the mountain. I flew. The views were, in the truest meaning of the word, awesome. I felt like I was the main character in an epic movie and the runners high definitely helped that delusion. I had planned to make up the time I lost on the first third of the race here on the downhill, and I did... for the first 2 miles. I felt my body slowing down as the trail became incredibly steep and footing became more difficult. Soon I was just shuffling down and being lapped by the 50-mile runners on their second summit of the peak. I hit aid station Alpha for the second time, refilled my water, grabbed a
older lady was posted up on the guard rails on the side of the road with a cowbell and was whooping and hollering as I passed. I looked up, .2 miles left, and there was my husband cheering his heart out. He ran toward me and started running with me. Moments later, my sister joined. With them by my side, I dug for any last vestiges of energy and truly ran the last bit. As I crossed the finish line, my legs nearly gave out. My mom grabbed me, and we cried.
In total, I ran for 9:35:42, 32.8 miles, and 6,565 feet of elevation gain. My nutrition and hydration were exactly perfect. I did not feel like I was going to bonk at any point during the race, nor did I have any pain until the mid-20s when my IT band started to flare up on the downhill. The course was wickedly challenging, wildly beautiful, and well-run. I would absolutely recommend this race, but it might not have been the best first ultramarathon. From the bottom of my heart, thank you all for everything you have done and for your continued support. I truly could not have done this without you.
pickle and an Oreo, and with some gentle coaxing, found the correct trail and headed off. Aid station Charlie was around 5 miles out, and it would generally be downhill. To say I ran the rest of the way to Charlie would be a stretch. The highlight of this section was definitely when my average pace finally broke from 17-minute miles to 16. My brother had hiked to Charlie and asked if I needed anything. My response was, “A helivac out of here.” I refilled my water and tried to give myself a pep-talk for the final 9 miles and nearly 1,500 feet of elevation gain. It was only 4 miles to Delta, the final aid station. The hills after Charlie were painful, and it took everything I had to just keep forward progress.
-Laramie Whitehat The Ultramarathoner
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