The Canyons: Chasing the Clock

 "Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the wilderness...To humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart." Deut 8:2

I came out of the wilderness headed into the canyons. If I wasn't humbled yet, I would be by the time the canyons were done with me. 

By the time I reached Michigan Bluff (mile 55.7), my toe had begun throbbing again. I knew I needed to change my shoes and socks. After countless creek crossings, my feet had never fully dried, and the canyons had taken their toll. 

8:17pm

I didn't know who would be waiting for me at Michigan Bluff but I felt sorry for whatever crew member it was.  I was exhausted, filthy, emotionally drained and running on little more than determination. Just running on the prayers of others. 

It was a little after 8:30 pm when I reached the station. 

The aid station was roaring with cow bells and energy. Crew could not come within 200 feet of the aid stations.  

Then I saw him. 

Andy. 

I was depleted of everything. I could not even muster tears. I tried to smile so he wouldn't be worried. 

I just knew I didn't have to be strong anymore. I could be completely vulnerable because he knew me. He knows every look; he could read me from the moment our eyes connected. 

And I could read him, and he looked so worried. 

Empty of everything, and at a loss for words just seeing Andy brought peace I didn't know I needed. 

There was another unexpected gift waiting for me....

At Western States, pacers aren't allowed to join until Forest Hill (mile 62), unless a runner reaches Michigan Bluff AFTER 8pm. Because I had arrived just after 8pm, Andy was allowed to pace me from there! It was not part of the original plan but in that moment, it felt like God's perfect timing. 

I could also see the concern on his face. We both knew I was running dangerously close to the cutoff. 

When I told him my feet needed attention, I caught a brief look of panic in his eyes. 

Every minute mattered and I only had minutes. 

8:27pm

One of the volunteers was part of the Blister Team. She gingerly removed my shoes and socks with Andy's help. They treated me like fine china, with incredible kindness, and gentleness. 

I saw Andy feverishly watching the clock, trying not to hurry them, yet knowing we had very little time to spare. 

I had to leave Michigan Bluff by 8:50 or get swept. 

Yet with every minute I sat in the chair, I could feel my body coming back to life. The fog from the canyons slowly began to lift. My breathing settled and my spirit steadied. 

Time was precious, but in that moment rest was priceless. 

With fresh socks, clean bandages, and a renewed spirit, Andy and I thanked the blister team wholeheartedly and stepped onto the trail together. 

 

The sun was setting in all glory across the mountains. And I had my best friend alongside of me. My heart was full now I just needed my body to cooperate. 

Our destination was Forest Hill where I would meet Kara to trade places. 

Forest Hill: 62 mile

Running with Andy

We only had 7 miles together. The truth was that my mind was exhausted. I couldn't carry a conversation, all I could do was embrace listening to his voice and the excitement and awe of him describing the mountains.  

8:50pm

I WILL LET ANDY describe our miles together...

I was not originally planning on pacing at Michigan Bluff (56 miles), but as the day progressed, it became clear that she was going to come in after 8 pm which meant she could have a pacer earlier than Foresthill (100K mark).  This presented a challenge since it was approximately a 1-mile hike and 300 ft of elevation from the road to the aid station. How could I crew her with supplies and pace her? After my 2^nd hike down, I talked to the volunteers who offered me a chair and said I could leave my backpack of supplies at the aid station and come back later in the night/early morning to pick them up.  So we had a plan and I began to anxiously wait… The 30-hour pace meant you had to leave by 8:50 pm. As 8:20 pm came and went my anxiety was at all-time high. I knew she was close and was climbing a huge climb…finally they called her name, and I knew it would be soon. She came in with somewhat of a smile and we briefly hugged as we made our way to the chair. She immediately asked that we tend to her feet. This caused even more anxiety as this was going to take some time that she simply did not have. The volunteers were absolutely incredible, and we all went to work on her feet. It became abundantly clear that her feet were in really bad condition. The blisters were abundant, some were broken up, others were angry and red. She ate as much as you could, but her stomach was not allowing many calories.  After the much-needed feet attention, we were able to get up and moving. We started back out, leaving around 8:35 pm with 15 minutes to spare.  As we began the climb out she was not in great spirits. Exhausted, stomach a mess and concerned about time. She would run 2 minutes or so at a time only to get back to the death march. We climbed for about 1 mile then had a 2 mile downhill.  I tried to encourage her to jog the downhills, but they were too technical and she insisted on walking.  The next 2 miles were about a 1,000 ft climb.  It finally flattened out and we were able to jog into Foresthill to the sounds of cheers and cowbells. This encouraged her to start the next journey with Kara. I kept reminding her that this next section was the easiest and it was going to get better.  On a side note… out of all the races she has done, this was easily the most worried I have ever been for her. She went dark early and I have never seen her so behind.  The fact that she was able to finish this race still astounds me. I have never doubted her at a race (really-never), but I must admit after seeing her at Robinson Flat and then seeing her come late at Michigan Bluff, some doubts crept in.

Andy kept me moving, like prodding a horse. The elevation showed Andy a front row of my suffering. I was excited to see the girls when we came into Foresthill. I would pick up Kara. All I could think about was getting my trekking poles-that I soon discovered no one had. It was an instant gut punch.  

Until once again Kara came to save me, "I have mine, you can use mine..." 

I was elated. This was the first year they allowed poles, I do not use them normally, but the Lord humbled me. I was eating all the words I had ever said about running with "sissy sticks". 

10:20 pm Kara and I headed into the trail. The cutoff time for this station was 11:45pm. 

I cannot say that I remember much about the trail. I can say Kara was dancing on the trail. She was a free bird. Kara was in front leading me down towards the old gold mining trail. The next 3 aid stations we would be solo, no crew access. I was a walking zombie with a belly that was turning my pale skin green- I was wanting to puke. I had already taken Zophran and Dramamine. It had worn out and I needed something. I needed calories, caffeine and some anti-nausea. 

Dardanelles 65.7

Peachstone70.7

Fords Bar 73

No Crew Access at all three. 

Everything was a blur. going into aid stations and coming out of them. Kara had a mission, to get some calories in me. Being a ER doctor and an ultra-runner she knew that she had to get some calories in me. I would sip on black coffee, and chicken broth seemed the only thing I could keep down. Not too far after leaving the aid station I found myself hugging the wall of a mountain, the dark night hid me as I wretched all over myself. I cried to Kara as she worked so hard to get calories into me. 

We came into an aid station, and I watched a guy tell his pacer he was going to take a 5-minute nap. I was so envious. I looked at Kara, "Can I have a 5-minute nap?" I waited as I watched her trying to do some calculations. She finally responded, "You can have 4 minutes..." I didn't waste anytime and climbed into the cot next to the guy. I know it seems crazy. But it works! That guy was taking 5-minute naps at every aid station. I was so grateful for just one. I cannot say I woke up footloose and fancy, but I woke up grateful and determined to show Kara I was better for it. 

I will let Kara tell the story...

I picked Anita up at Foresthill Aid Station. She rolled in just after 10pm, and I had never seen her so exhausted-pale, confused, dehydrated, and unsteady on her feet. We reunited her with trekking poles while getting fluids into her to take whatever calories we could.

Then we were off. 

It didn't take long before she decided she didn't want the poles. I strapped them to her pack, but that was a hard NO. We left them behind. I still had mine in my quiver, and onward we went. 

The road to Foresthill was flat and paved, and we settled into an easy jog. Before long we were weaving through neighborhoods, making a few tricky turns before disappearing back into the darkness of the trail. The sky was ink black, the moon brilliantly bright, and dramatic clods drifted overhead. It was one of the nights that felt both impossibly beautiful and incredibly long. 

12:50am

Ahead of us lay Dardanelles, Peachstone, Fords Bar, the infamous Rucky Chucky River crossing and finally the relentless 2-mile climb from the river up to green gate. 

She had about a 45-50 minute cushion to make the cutoff. It wasn't much, but it was enough that I wasn't panicking. My job was simple: keep her awake, keep her moving, shuffle when we couldn't run, run when could, and somehow convince her to keep taking in calories. One step as a time. One aid station closer. One mile closer to Auburn. 

The one thing I distinctly remember is RUCKY CHUCKY...

I was so confused on these miles. But I was not confused on the fact that I was going to have to do this river crossing at mile 78.

The river would be above my waist. 

The river would be roughly about the same temp at the air, about 57 degrees. 

Everyone said it would be "refreshing" 

The thought of crossing the river had been weighing on me for miles. But I also has been anxiously awaiting to reach this monumental point. I knew it would revive me. Fear will do that to you.

The Aid Station lit up the dark night. But beyond the lights the river disappeared into the night. Just the reflections danced off the ripples. I could hear it; it was moving faster than I was.

As we approached a volunteer looked at me and asked, " do you want a life jacket? " 

Kara quickly responded "No". 

Without hesitation, I answered, "Yes." 

Then they asked us what order we wanted to cross. I had Kara go first. This would keep me moving and giving me more confidence. 

The moment we stepped into the river, the cold stole my breath. Volunteers stood in the river, stationed along a thick rope stretched across the current. They had us wearing glow necklaces along with them. They also had them in the river water to help direct you where to land your feet from one boulder to another. 

With every step, the water grew deeper. Every volunteer encouraged us as we made our way across. 

Every step took my breath away. 

Near the middle of Rucky Chucky one of the volunteers calmly looks at me and said, "You're coming to a big drop. The water is going to be up to your shoulders." 

Panic surged me. 

Up until that point I had been carefully stepping from one large rock to another. But hearing those words changed everything. I stopping trusting my legs. I changed the plan with all fear. I gripped the rope with both hands and pulled myself across, hand over hand, letting my upper body do all the work while the current pushed against me. 

By the time I caught up with Kara, my whole body was trembling uncontrollably. 

But we were not done. 

 

We still had to scramble over slick rocks and in the dark I had no idea we were not done with Rucky Chucky. 

Kara led the way to another rope in a sandy bank anchored straight UP. Dripping wet and cold we grabbed hold and literally pulled ourselves up and climbed our way out of the river gorge. 

When we reached the top, we were filthy and shivering...

I found humor in the bucket of cold dirty water they gave you to wash off. Oh, the irony. 

But we were not done.....

THE RUNDOWN

THE Canyons...

The Canyons brought more than extreme elevation. It brought extreme emotions. The climbs along those canyon walls left my so exposed. It exposed my weaknesses. It exposed my mistakes and exposed my vulnerabilities.  

The climbs revealed God's strength in my weakness. I had no tools, no poles, all I had was my Faith. It was Faith that the Lord would provide for me everything I was not equipped with. 

I had nothing by FAITH. 

The canyons emptied me of everything I thought I needed, my strength, certainty, control. 

But it never took my Hope. 

I just needed to get to Green Gate, Kara and I had another 2 grueling miles to go. 

In Peace, Not Pieces

Anita

The Canyons: WSER Part 3

 "For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone."  Psalm 91: 11-12

Leaving Andy I felt revived. I also had a whole lot less clothing on. I had shorts on under my pants that now got to see the light of day along with only a long sleeve shirt as I left for Dusty Corners. 

The Canyons would be the hottest part of the course. The granite walls radiate heat back at the runners, making it feel even hotter. The canyons often climb into the 90's and get even hotter than 100'.  In this stretch I would have 3 major canyon crossings in just over 20 miles. I would descend thousands of feet into the canyons only to do it all over again. 

I was excited to see Kara and Lynn. They had been busy all morning packing up the VRBO and loading everything into the car. They needed to conserve energy too; they had a long night ahead of them taking care of me.

My legs felt foreign as I headed down to see the girls. I actually was able to run, no rocks, no creeks, smooth sailing just allowing gravity to pull me deeper into the canyons. Andy was hoping I could make up some time in this section. It was nice to run back and forth with some other runners and not have the fear of getting lost or eaten by bears! I settled into a comfortable stride soaking in every "free" mile before the canyons reminded me that nothing at Western States comes without a price. 

Dusty Corners -Mile 38

It didn't take long to understand why this aid station was called Dusty Corners. Everything was dry to the bone. A fine layer of grit hung over everything, especially my skin. Training in Michigan for mountains and canyons was hard enough but training for the heat I was encountering was next level. They kept advertising that it was the "3rd coolest Western States in 53 years".  

Even with the cooler temperatures, the heat was relentless. 

They had 20lbs of ice for EVERY runner! 

Oh when I saw the girls!

I couldn't strip my clothes off fast enough. I felt like my body was being dipped in boiling water. My belly was on the cusp of puking. I knew my stomach was as depleted as my energy. I had quit eating miles before I had seen Andy. I was forcing little niblets of food and water knowing I needed the carbs but afraid it would start the puking process. 

The girls came quickly to my attention along with my personal aid gal. I could only speak in one-word sentences. 

"I'm so hot.."

"Do you guys have a tank top?

"Oh NOO" I cried as my gut wretched. 

I tried to find a place to sit as the nausea finally won. 

It was here that I knew that ice was more than a luxury, it was a lifeline. "Ice...Ice rag.." I mumbled, remembering how much it calmed me down in Virginia for my 100k when I got sick in the heat. 

Then Kara and Lynn looked as pale as I was when they saw how destroyed I was. Kara literally gave me the shirt off her back! She gave me her tank top and without thinking clearly, I left the aid station without my poles. 

My headspace was just thinking I was going DOWN into the canyons even though I knew I had to come back up and out. Kara also gave me her ice bandana allowing my body and mind to cool off. I didn't have the time to hang out, I had to get myself together physically, I still had so much more ground to cover. 

I chuckled to myself as I pulled out, poor Lynn and Kara. They had never seen me so wrecked. I still had over 60 miles to go. They just witness me coming out of one hell-of a battle entering into another and the temperatures were still rising. 

Last Chance 43.3

NO Crew Access

It was mostly downhill leaving Dusty Corners going into Last Chance. Last Chance is the final major aid station before the infamous plunge into Deadwood canyon and the brutal climb to Devils Thumb. It would be my last opportunity to cool down, fill up and ice up. I knew I needed calories and tried to eat the ice coming out of the bandana. My lips were dry and my tank top that Kara gave me was soaked with icy water. I quickly got my wits when I realized I was on a ledge hundreds of miles up. I made sure to keep looking forward because the drop off was more unsettling than my stomach!

10 hours of running and I was only at 41 miles! I knew I had to maintain a 17-mile pace. and I was able to do it on the downhills, but the inclines were a different story without my poles.  

Maybe it was better I didn't have my poles. I am not sure, because one thing that snuck up on me was the ledge I was running. I had a couple runners behind me when I realized I was thousands of feet up. My knees went weak and everything went tingly as I hugged the canyon wall. I actually froze.

I stopped running to let the runners pass. I was so scared. One wrong step, one trip, one slip,,,my mind was racing and I was just trying to settle myself down and get moving. It seemed like I had barely enough room to run -let alone have my poles. I thought about when Andy and I backpacked the Waimea Canyon in Kauai. I got so scared I froze on the canyon wall and cried! 

I couldn't waste my valuable tears crying.  I just prayed for the Lord to give me courage and protection. 

"Keep moving Anita..." It was 3:44pm as I inched my way across the narrow ledges literally carved into the canyon walls. 

I could hear the energy through the canyon. I felt myself getting so excited, it was now 4:13 as I arrived at Last Chance. I had both my bottles emptied and actually thought I could swallow down some watermelon and possibly something with more substance. I definitely wanted more ice! 

Devils Thumb- 47.8

No Crew Access

I didn't hang out at Last Chance long; the clock was chasing me. As I descended into the canyon I could hear the river below. I had caught back up to the other runners. 

As I descended, the foliage grew thicker and the trees began to surround me. Their canopy offered a welcome break from the relentless sun. The air was still warm, but the shade 

gave me a little relief. 

Around mile 42, we crossed a bridge over the river. the water rushed below weaving through boulders and dancing between the massive pine trees, moving far faster than we were. It was breathtaking. I was able to embrace the beauty with joy especially knowing Devils Thumb was going to be brutal, but I actually had NO idea how brutal the "devil" was going to be. 

But first I would enjoy my descent down into Deadwood Canyon. 

It didn't take long as I started climbing to realize I was up Sh&#'S Creek without a paddle not having my poles. 

I would be gaining roughly 2,000 feet over about 3 1/2 - 4 miles. This would be one of my steepest and most grueling climbs in the race. Not to mention the exposed canyon walls had the sweat tricking down every square inch of my body. 

I think it was here, on one of these cliffs that I would go back and forth with a couple lady runners. 

FUN FACT: the race only consisted of 26% women. 

So, to see them, I wanted to embrace them. The women earned their place and fought hard to be there. 

On a cliff of extreme fear I searched for courage to look out and into the landscape. We were clinging to the side with sheer drop offs. I nervously giggled to myself as I spoke "My mom died at 52. I never thought I might to die at 52, but I really don't want to die on this mountain..." As the words escaped my heart, I knew that I was emotionally sharing some very personal glimpses of myself. But it was the opening to a very sweet conversation with the lady runner that had not very engaging. She shared some intimate details about her family that triggered her "WHY". We shared some miles before I felt brave enough to pass. 

6:58

I cannot even begin to describe the grueling next few miles. The demanding climbs never let up. The switchbacks up the walls were so steep I would try to push my legs to make them work. I would look up and see no end, I would feel my soul being pulverized. I would get a glimpse of movement from another runner only to get an idea of the magnitude of what agony was ahead of me. The unyielding climb to Devils Thumb was harder than anything I had ever done. The trail kept climbing as did my heart rate, my breathing and intensity of the climb. Without poles I was averaging a 26min/mi. and this was all my blood sweat and tears. Other runners were gaining on me and passing me. I was falling apart and my spirit was fading. Out of fear I started looking for a stick, something to aid in my trudge up. I saw other runners with sticks; I had no shame. I was desperate and fading. I saw a break in the sky, with a glimmer of hope I pressed forward to the top of the mountain. My feeble heart was sparking again as I made that last switchback. Only to be crushed as I turned the corner to see another climb right behind it. My legs were burning; my lips tasted like sweat and I swear I heard banjos calling me home. 

But what voices are we listening to? 

Because I also heard, "You have trained your whole life to climb this Devil..." I knew that the Lord had put me on this mountain. The details were anointed by God himself, and I was not going to quit on the Lord. He never quit on me, and I KNEW that He had a plan and a purpose for me in this race. I knew all the suffering, all the heartache, all the brokenness, I knew addiction, foster homes, abuse, cancer all of it had equipped me for this Devil. I would not let Devils Thumb have me. With God all things are Possible, and I BELEIVED that TRUTH. I also knew it was going to hurt like hell, but hell would not hold me. 

Depleted and numb I heard the victory cries of the Devils Thumb Aid Station echoing through the forest. I knew my family wouldn't be there, but I would get to see humans. The Lord had been really close the last few miles. We had many conversations allowing my heart to be complete in Him that I was not rattled to not have my crew. 

El Dorado Creek 52.9

No Crew Access

6:23pm

I was able to eat some watermelon and fill up my bottles. The aid stations were cup-less. I had been wanting some Coke for caffeine or ginger ale for my belly but couldn't get it because I didn't bring my cup. While running someone had dropped their silicone cup, out of desperation and gratefulness I picked it up off the trail like I found gold! This allowed me to enjoy some carbonated drinks. The sun was beginning to set over the mountains, and the temperatures were even settling down as I got to embrace the downhill towards El Dorado Creek about five miles. Aid station to aid station. Another station without family. My mind trailed off wondering what they were up to. If they would be able to keep me moving. It was closing in on 7pm and exhaustion was starting to take hold.
 

It was a bit creepy seeing the old sign of the famous "Deadwood Cemetery" About a third of the way down and a little reminder of the gold rush days. This 5 mile section was mostly downhill and the trail narrows but the quads were on fire. Approaching the aid station, I felt a shooting pain and knew it was the first of my blisters to blow. I have enough history and experience with blisters to know it is going to burn for about 2 miles, then it will go numb for a while.....But while it burst, I swallowed hard and just owned it with thankfulness that it was only my first one!

The sound of the rushing water at Eldorado Creek was so inviting. The volunteers were eager to cool you off, cheer you on and fill your tank, and they were amazing! 

Michigan Bluff 55.7 miles

7:40pm

I would get to see someone from my crew. I had no idea who, but in 3 miles I would be able to interact with my crew. But until then playtime was not over. Just coming out of the aid station I had another soul crushing climb. The trail literally points UP. However, the beauty that surrounded you also protected you from the burning sun. The pine trees were huge with the largest pinecones I had ever seen. I felt like so miniscule beneath the towering forest. As if the trees were swallowing me, I was just a babe in the ancient pines. As if the massive trees knew I was foreign, I felt they knew I was trespassing and had no business there, especially from Michigan. The trail cut deep into its comfort as it took mine away. My breathlessness was barely a whisper in the elements of agony. I had to go on facts, I knew this climb was not as far, but it was still about 1,800 feet in 3 miles. I had to keep moving, even if I was crawling. 

I lost my rhythm quickly. I was trying so hard to calculate my time with my pace. Adding in the time of day and try to figure out if I was still going to make the 30-hour cut off -if all I could do was a 30-minute mile. 

I had barely recovered from Devils Thumb and still without poles my legs felt like wobble sticks. My heart was beating out of chest like a boxing match and my breathing I think even made the forest feel sorry for me. 

I told the Lord, I wouldn't quit but prayed for perseverance. Or maybe I was begging at that point. 

Rundown: 

The canyons had taken more from me than I ever expected. They stripped away my comfort, tested my courage on the cliffs, and exhilarated me reminding me that Western States doesn't give anything away. You had to earn every mile with more than just strength. 

As the evening shadows shared the skies, I could feel the day catching up to me. Fatigue had tightened its grip and the miles were heavier with every step. But I pressed on with sheer faith and confidence that even though things looked bleak, I wasn't given up hope. 

Somewhere ahead was Michigan Bluff. 

Someone special would be waiting for me. 

The question wasn't whether I wanted to see them, it was whether I could get there before time slipped away.....

In Peace, Not Peaces

Anita

HIGH Country: WSER Part 2

"I lift my eyes to the mountains, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth." Psalm 121:1-2

• RACE DATE: Saturday, June 27th 2026
• DISTANCE: 100.2
• START TIME: 5AM PDT
• TIME LIMIT: 30 hours
• RUNNERS STARTING: 369
• START: Olympic Valley, California
• FINISH: Placer High School Track, Auburn, California
• START ELEVATION: 6,200 feet
• TOTAL CLIMBING: 18,000 feet
• TOTAL DESCENT: 23,000 feet 

Race Morning Conditions: Temperatures at 5am start, 43 degrees, with 60mph wind gusts. They shut the tram down. 

I couldn't get my nerves to settle. Sleeping escaped me but I was peacefully rested when my 3:30am alarm went off. 2 hours of sleep and multiple conversations with the Lord. Maybe that was exactly where he wanted me, up all night in prayer. 

I would be starting the race completely empty and fully relying on a voice bigger than my own. 

My crew would have their work cut out for them, keeping Anita awake, keeping her from falling off the canyons and not drowning in Rucky Chucky. We were going to have so much fun! 

This made vomiting and pooping my pants seem so miniscule. 

With all my clothes laid out the night before, I had to create my "Flat Racing Anita" WSER edition! I got dressed, headed downstairs for coffee, and forced down my breakfast. I managed a full bagel with cream cheese, and a banana, this was the most I have eaten for breakfast in months. But I knew I had to do the very thing I didn't want to, my body needed all the extra. I had even put on 4 lbs for the race. 

The four of us headed quietly, all half-awake to Olympic Valley. The dark mountain sky came alive with the runners' names and bib numbers projected across the mountainside. It was an incredible sight and the perfect reminder that this wasn't just another race. WSER did EVERYTHING next level. I felt all the things, all at once and swallowed back a hurricane of emotions. 

We arrived into the large lot with music echoing through the mountains. Olympic Valley was alive with energy. 

Even though I was surrounded by hundreds of voices, excitement and nervous energy, I had never felt so alone. 

Everything around me appeared so enormous compared to how small I felt. Hidden in the darkness. Overshadowed by the magnitude of the moment. 

Overwhelmed by emotion. Anxious for what lay ahead over the next 30 hours. It took everything I had to just BREATHE. 

I didn't want Andy to leave me as he faded into the shadows, I stood invisible amongst the hundreds.  The only place I found comfort...was in prayer. 

That's when everything changed....

Into the High Country (Miles 0-30)

Five O'clock on the dot....and we were off. 

I started near the back of the pack, turns out I was the back, one of the last runners. Andy told me he would be on my left, this would be the last time I would see him for hours, even longer than I had planned. This vacancy would be harder than the mountains I would climb. 

I knew I was overdressed, but I also knew what was waiting for us. We were climbing into higher elevations with wind gusts approaching 60 mph, and I had no interest in being cold. I would rather peel off layers than spend the morning shivering. 

Climb ON. 

Olympic Valley to Robinson Flat

From the very first steps, my hiking poles were in my hands. They weren't just a piece of gear; they quickly became an extension of me. Like Inspector Gadget, "Go go trekking poles'!  Every climb, every rocky step, every gust of wind...they were there, my poles steadied me as I made climbed on. 

5:51am

The first 5 miles were relentless forward motion. There was no running. I knew I had to maintain a sub 18min/mi. but I had heard that once you get out of High Country you would be able to run. 

I also knew in order to keep myself from getting sick, I needed to keep my heart rate down. 

I also knew I needed to eat and drink as much as I could while I still felt good. 

Sometimes, it doesn't matter what you know, you know you are going to dig deep, accept the elements of the unknown and don't forget your "WHY". 

The Escarpment- Emigrant Pass 

The mountain had a mouthpiece. The closer I got to the top, the louder the voices got. Spectators cascaded all over the trail as I came closer to Emigrant pass.

This would top off my first major climb: 4.5 miles, climbing 2,550 feet. For a total of 8,750 feet of elevation. 

6:09am

As I crested the climb, I was received with shouts and cheers "LET'S Go ANITA!!"  The voices carried me up the ridge with pure joy. 

This would be the first landmark that would take residence in my heart forever. Climbing that mountain was a humble reminder of my fragility. It didn't own me, but it definitely reminded me of what a pipsqueak I am. 

6:22am

7:22
This would be the last time I would have my sunglasses....

Lyon Ridge-10.3 miles

"IS THIS WHAT HEAVEN LOOKS LIKE? I THINK IT IS." 

 At the top of that mountain, I discovered what I believed Heaven would look like. And as if I was the only one that mountain, I expressed my faith with the words of Heaven. The sky was endless with the mountain peaks connecting majestically. The pines scattered stoically. The trail forged almost invisible, deeply weathered in the wild and untamed forest. 

This is how I met Tina. Tina and I would run back and forth through Lyons Ridge. Tina was from California; it was her 3rd Western States. She wanted a buckle for each of her 3 kids.  

Tina embraced my visual of Heaven on earth. My faith didn't scare her, it encouraged her. She heard me encouraging every runner I came in contact with. I had no idea that I had made such an impact on her. She would share that I brought her to tears sharing my glimpse of Heaven in my breathless hike up that unyielding trail. 

All smiles, all the aid love. 

I was taken back when coming into the aid stations, I had NEVER experienced the personal, hands-on care that you received. You had your own personal care. They came directly to you and calling you by name aided you for every need you had. It was red carpet service. 

 

Red Star Ridge -15.8 mile 

We had a small river crossing. I was running with a group of guys, all of them focused on surviving the terrain. Small pockets of conversations but everyone was focused on the trail, carefully picking their way over the rocks. It was obvious that everyone was wrapped up in their own race, it wasn't unfriendly it was just quiet.

Several of these creek crossings. 12:01pm

When we reached one of the creek crossings it was obvious we were going to get our shoes wet. But I still had hopes. My hopes of dry shoes came crashing as hard as I did! My poles got tangled in the rocks and I slipped. My foot ricocheted off one wet rock onto another. My poles went in the air as I lost my balance, and I landed sideways and submerged in the icy water. I accessed myself with gratitude as I made it to my feet, and chuckled as I found myself all alone again on the mountain. 

All men for themselves. 

I got a text from Andy right after I fell checking on me to see if I was OK. I expressed I fell and lost my favorite sunglasses and he replied, " Sounds good. I love you and your doing great. If you can start running some of these downhills or flats, I would..." 

I saw that text and just laughed. I had been trying to stay in zone 2 and my heart rate was camping in zone 3 and tapping into 4. I had no idea that everyone was tracking me and I was barely making my times. Andy was concerned. My finishing percentage was 67%. Ignorance is bliss. 

But Tina and I reunited and ran close to one another all the way to Duncan Canyon. Tina shared all the hard places I would be running. She lovingly like a parent described all the areas I needed to know about. Preparing me, coaching me. Her voice was so settling. She was my trail angel. The Lord's voice was echoing from every detail she gave me. I knew she was a gift from God to settle me down. 

Duncan Canyon-24.4

heading into Duncan canyon I received random clusters of text messages one from Andy, " I am so sorry. I am not gonna be able to make that aid station. I will see you at Robinson Flat. The 30-mile mark." 

It was almost 1pm. 8 hours, another aid station and no family. I had been running solo again. I found myself yelling in the woods when I thought I was lost or maybe just lonely. I got so rattled, between the bear scatt and all-encompassing mountain landscape I found myself in tight trails and not a soul to be seen. I even yelled "MARCO" loudly when I was by myself, afraid I might have taken a wrong turn. 

Btw, no one answered. But I met a man wearing a Lions hat around mile 20. Gary Nichols, a true Lions fan. He was from Michigan but lived in Kentucky. We chatted for a few miles, I tried to encourage him but he breathlessly told me our journey needed to end, He told me to go ahead without him. My heart broke for him as I heard his spirit was fading and I couldn't help him. 

Robinson Flat-30.3

By the time I reached Robinson Flat, I was a blubbering mess. Cowbells echoed through the trees. The spectators lined the trail, cheering, clapping and calling out my name. The energy was electric. 

But my eyes were searching for Andy. I was depleted. Dirty. Hot. The morning layers now over 9 hours were suffocating me under the afternoon sun. I needed Andy to help me shed some layers. 

But more than that...

I needed a hug. 

The more I heard the crowd cheering me on, the more I felt the tears welling up. Not because I wanted to quit, but because of the magnitude of what I had already accomplished. In the middle of all the noise, all the excitement, all the strangers, I needed my person. 

And with the most welcoming smile there he was calling my name. 

I fell into Andys arms like a wet noodle. 

He was quick to access me, help me remove clothing. unwind me and quiet my heart. I had so much to share but my words came out in bursts. 

"...its so hard..."

"beautiful..so beautiful..."

"I'm ok...my stomach is starting to turn..." 

Andys had me sit for a few, and told me "It's way to early for your belly to be sick." Even though he was stating the truth, it did not change the obvious. 

He didn't keep me around for long. He gently coaxed me into running more. Even though I was going into the canyons shortly the temps were still cool. 

Andy had been watching my times and was very concerned about how close I still was to the aid station cut-offs. He informed me I would get to see the girls before going into the canyons and that gave my heart an extra beat of excitement. 

I hated to go, but my love tank was recharged, and I knew I had a mission to fulfill. 

Next stop: the Canyons. 

The Rundown: 

With over 30 miles under my belt, my body still felt solid. From this point I knew I was 1/4 of the way through, this is how I was breaking it up. 

I had regained my composure and was intrigued at what the Canyons would share. I was still wearing my pants, but I was now down to just a long sleeve shirt. With full sun, I knew I would be heating up but I also needed to protect my body from the elements. 

I had been eating at all the aid stations, intentionally trying to keep calories in. The elevation had finally caught up with me. I couldn't get my heart rate to settle, and my belly was turning sour. I had drank plenty of fluids and prayed I could hold out and get through the Canyons where the altitude would begin declining. 

I had not trained for 6 months to let a little sour stomach get me. I had been preparing my whole life to get through this. The Lord had given me this experience because He had prepared me. That was my truth, and I knew, all the suffering I had endured conditioned me to run this race.  

Swallow it all back, or vomited it out, but smile and keep going. I was getting to do what so many had always dreamed of doing. 

I had run over 8 hours, across rugged terrain, over bear scatt the size of Texas, with views that looked like Heaven on earth and adventures to last a lifetime. But I still had 60 miles to go.

 

High Country taught me that strength isn't found at the top of the climb, but in taking your thoughts captive. 

The mountains reminded me that the One who made them was carrying me too. 

And I would need Him more than ever for the canyons....

In Peace, Not Pieces,

Anita

The Space Before the Gun Goes Off: WSER prt1

 "The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start." John Bingham

Western States Endurance Run (WSER)

My mind is full of thoughts, and I thought I would have them wrangled better to share. But the truth is, I am still so overwhelmed by the journey of it all, from the beginning to the end. The joy, the gratitude, the grief, the fear, the agony and the sheer magnitude of it all. 

How does a pipsqueak like me, a nobody, a detail lost in the shadows get to be part of something so extraordinary? 

I am still just tucked in such awe of it all. 

I am going to roll this out in 2 maybe 3 parts. 

1. The BEFORE

2. High Country, The Canyons, Rucky Chucky, The Road to Auburn: the FINISH

My crew. 

ANDY. LYNN. KARA.

We had sat down the night before the race with print outs, pamphlets and pow-wowed for a couple hours trying to get all the logistics down. It was going to be the hardest race we had ever navigated. 

I would not be able to see them until 26 miles, and that was if I was lucky. One-way roads, shuttles, mountain climbs with no service, would prevent them from being able to even communicate.  When we sat in the pre-race meeting, I realized how blessed I was to have 2 crews to leapfrog to me. It was going to be very taxiing on them. But as I listened to them putting all the details together, I felt so grateful to have them. I knew this was who the Lord prepared for me. 

Not only would they be threading their way to the aid stations they would all be taking turns running with me when I was at my worst. They would be my emotional support, my pacers, and my help mates. I had 30 hours to run; this was going to be the LONGEST I had ever stayed awake and the hardest 100 miles I had ever ran. By biggest challenge was going to be, not if I got sick...but when. They were going to have to help me keep running, throwing up, nauseas and depleted. 

Lynn

Andy, the Crew Chief. Andy would run the least with me but work the hardest. He would carry the weight of all. My timing, my health, my emotions, the fears of a husband. He would also be sharing information and responding to loved ones to settle nerves back home. 

Kara,

Kara

is a ER doctor. She comes with a lot of experience both in hard pacing and also accessing her runner. Kara would run the most with me, over 20 miles into the night and across Rucky Chucky; the river crossing I was dreading at mile 78. 

Lynn, is a woman on a mission. She listens to the plan, and she is ready to execute it. She sees the goal and is ready to achieve it. 

We all fit together perfectly. Not to mention, my crew were made up of good humans. I was in good hands and had so much peace in it. 

Andy and I had already been in California since Monday. We spent 2 nights enjoying Yosemite before heading to Olympic Valley where our AIRBNB was. 

Lynn and Kara got there a couple hours after us. 

From Wednesday to Friday night, we would do ALL the things that Western States had on the Itinerary and hoping it was enough to acclimate us all to the elevation. 

• WEDNESDAY: Fleet Feet expo
• THURSDAY: Shake Out run and coffee. We got to meet some running celebrities. We had a pacer meeting and got to meet more people. 
• Expo
  
  
• Trek to Watsons Monument for Flag raising and Tram ride
  
  
  
• Crewing Western States Runner meeting
• FRIDAY: Race Registration/ Race meeting

We did all the things. Met all the people. embraced every moment with fullness. 

The girls missed the expo Wednesday but they made up for it Thursday for the Shake out run. We were running with the elites, none of which I really knew but I was learning fast from Kara.

To be honest, everyone looked elite to me. I never quit smiling even though I felt so far out of my element. 

Watsons Monument

Later that evening we went back for the Trek up to Watsons Monument. I really wanted to experience this to give me a indication to what the first few miles of the race would be like. 

The four of us began out climbing. A sky endlessly blue. There was so much to see, the skyline changed every mile leaving me breathless and in extreme awe. Andy and I met the most darling couple and found ourselves talking about Jesus with sweet fellowship, like having church on the side of a mountain. 

Over 4 miles and almost 3,000 feet of climbing and the mountain horizon took what little breath I had away. 

Andy and I snuck off the trail to pray. 

We decided to take the tram back down. I WAS SOO SCARED. I am terrified of heights. 

I clutched the pole as the tram headed down. A woman looked at me confused, "If your so scared, why are you riding this?" 

SO many thoughts ran through my head...I answered it simply, "Because doing the things that scare me is how I overcome..." 

Thursday: Crewing Western States Runner. 

This was a mandatory meeting. It did not take long for me to realize how blessed I was to have a crew. 

Friday: Race Registration/ Race Meeting

I could NOT stop crying. This is where you pick up your bib and all your goodies that WSER gives you. Every volunteer greets you by your first name.

They greet you, encourage you and some of them even cry with you.

You are a someone. I was moved and blubbering in reverence to the awe of all that I had done and all that I was expected to do. 

They spoke to me as though I had already finished. 

The saw me not as I was trying to race, but I was already victorious. 

I was already unstoppable. 

I felt empowered by the enthusiasm.  

RUNDOWN:

The Fear we Overcome.  

Friday night, I get my steak dinner with my crew. I invited Joe Burns who flew out to WSER to do all the things they had to offer. Joe is the one who gifted me the raffle ticket. And I invited some new friends I met. 

In all honesty, I knew I was not going to be able to sleep. My stomach was in knots. I was wound tight with way too many feelings. But even in the two hours sleep I would get, it would be in my complete weakness I would rely on Him even more. Therefore, a sleepless night would not steal my peace. Because I had a fullness of peace. Every detail was His and He had prepared a way for me to run this race. 

Here's what I did know....

I knew that this was a gift from God. He orchestrated it all. For His Purpose. It was His design. 

He gifted me to Glorify Him. 

My running is simply a testimony for His Purpose not my praise. 

The Lord qualifies the unqualified. 

I had unwavering faith that I would finish. But I also knew this was a race to endure the long haul. 

What was clear was I still had FEARS. But my Faith gave me peace in those. It was out of my hands the journey to 100 miles. 

I was capable.

I was confident. 

I was Brave. 

I had seen myself at the finish. 

The Lord had already given me that affirmation. 

I was not scared of where I was going. The Fear was where the Lord would see me through. It was knowing it was His Will. 

I would be running in elements both foreign and painful to me.  

The Fear of the Unknown

But the Faith of a child. I knew I just had to lay it all at His feet. 

Some moments I felt empowered, but all moments I felt Grateful. 

In Peace, Not Pieces,

Anita~

 

Run the Risk: Western States t-3 weeks

 

There is one "for sure" in this thing called life, we are all going to die.  And with all certainty, I am prepared for death, but I am not prepared for the mundane. 

The fear that drives us. 

It is the same fear that fuels me. 

The fire that has burnt me is the same fire that ignites me.

The darkness that wrapped me up is the same darkness I know lingers in the shadows that I refuse to dance with. 

So here I am, running this race, it doesn't matter when I die, I think I have died many times, it matters more how I choose to live. 

My courage doesn't make sense to those who choose comfort. 

I don't ask anyone to walk in my shoes. 

I don't ask people to try to understand my trauma. 

I don't expect people to read my story with understanding. 

But this race is who I am. This race is all I have overcome. 

This race is the pain prevailed. 

The disappointment mastered. 

The abandonment accepted. 

This is who I am. Determined with all grit, all fire, all darkness, all trauma to fight all of hell to use every demon meant to destroy me-strengthen me. 

I am not afraid to fail. I am afraid to not try. I am not proving anything to anyone, but me. 

I have no time goal for Western States 100 but to finish. 

 

I have found myself emotionally rattled the last couple weeks. On the verge of a breakdown. The training runs have been strenuous. Climbing hills, holding pace, running in the heat with only one option: FINISH EMPTY. 

As the training runs get harder, I reach into the younger version of myself. I see that young girl in that one room schoolhouse checking in on my mother making sure she is breathing. I see that child hiding behind the recliner as fists are being thrown and blood is smeared on the tile. I see that brown eyed child trying to help her mother out of the DT'S and convulsions from running out of booze and money. I see that teenager begging for her mother to put the bottle down and the phone cords being ripped out of the trailers walls. 

And I clench my fists, and I bite my tongue until I taste the blood, and I run all that hell out of me. 

I don't run the risk of failing. 

I run the risk of not fighting. I was created for this. 

I was given the fuel as a child. 

I was given the fire, the darkness.

But I was given the LIGHT to see the RISK is worth it all. 

We were not meant to not be challenged. 

We were not meant for the mundane. 

We are equipped to suffer, yet we let fear be our voice. When things don't make sense to us, we judge it without conviction. 

We were created to run through the storm, but most of us avoid it. 

This past week was my peak week. SO many heavy thoughts. I let myself feel all the feels. I thanked the Lord for all the afflictions. Such beauty. 

Glory to glory.

The Lord has equipped me for this 100 miler. And He will see me every mile. Success requires context, and I will have 100 miles of it no matter the outcome! 

 I am so grateful for the last 6 months of training. Maybe the Lord broke me so he could prepare me and design me from the rock bottom up. 

"Who can list the glorious miracles of the Lord? Who can ever praise Him enough?" Psalms 106:2

Gratitude isn't anchored in in ease, in the simple, it is anchored in intimacy. The quiet miles of fear, the long hours of suffering, the climbs of trepidation. 

RUN THE RISK. 

Quit worrying what everyone thinks. Run the Risk, live Life out loud. Offer yourself some challenges, find your fuel in your fear. Not everyone will understand the fear, the fatigue, the pain or the insecurity that your trail brings, as most will choose to avoid it. But You Do. 

Life is meant for the living. 

In Peace, not Pieces,

Anita