Back in December at Beast of the East, when Kevin Silvey and Paul Tilley were crewing me, I was inspired by Paul, to sign up for Ouray 100. He told me in the pouring rain and climbs of the BotE course as he was pacing me to a solid finish with Covid, that he had registered. Knowing it was one of the toughest 100 milers in the ENTIRE WORLD, the thought of the challenge filled me with fear, but I knew that one day I wanted to face those Colorado mountains and iconic grassroots course, boasting 102 miles and 42,000 feet of vertical gain, with 14+ climbs to between 11-13400 thousand feet altitude, in extreme mountain conditions. Because it was a bucket list goal, I decided what better time to run it, than to take the chance and be on the same course as my brother in running, Paul, the milkman?? Thus began my journey from December to July of mentally, physically and spiritually training for the journey.

I started it out at Christmas, making a Ouray 100 gingerbread house, complete with exhausted gingerbread men runners and mountain goats and the two orange traffic cones, that mark the race start and finish line. I had my schedule full of races, attempting again to get 20+ 100 milers finished this year. The urgency seems to weigh on me, to finish these 100 100s. Each race seemed to give me the training I'd need to face Ouray, from sub freezing temps, to wild wind and rain storms, to being lost in the wilderness in dark sky country in northern PA, to hard rock qualifiers and culminating in a win at Froggy Mountain 100, with 50k feet of vert in 100 100 mile loops. I didn't know in December, that the circumstances of my life would take a radical change.

Things hadn't been right at home for several years. With some revelations that came about through a series of divine interventions, I found myself by March, to be divorcing, poor and single with nowhere to go. My brothers and friends at Froggy Mountain who have been so special and supportive of my races and my mission to honor Dexter and raise awareness about veteran suicide, gave me a home, friendship, love, support and safety...I know I've written about this, but retelling as part of this story. In addition to that, they gave me the best training grounds I could possibly want on the east coast, daily access to Froggy Mountain and surrounding trails in the beautiful Galax, Virginia. At least 4x a week I donned a heavy pack and spent 2-4 hours traversing the 1mile loop with 500 feet of climb per mile, to get stronger and I hoped, a little faster, for the looming mountains ahead in Ouray. It became my singular focus. I am sad and a little embarrassed to say that I made some mistakes in my personal life along the way, mostly that I let my focus on Ouray become so consuming that I neglected staying close to my children. Albeit, it was an awkward time, going through a divorce. I know I caused hurt, but I was also in survival mode and had to take care of myself. Nobody else was going to take care of me. I received enough $ from the divorce settlement to become a 3 -way partner in Froggy Mountain Adventures and the property itself where the iconic portal sits, with its unassuming little 1-mile trail through a beautiful forest that ends up competing for title of one of the most difficult races in America. <3 Moving there made me feel I had a home where I could continue to pursue my 100s and hopefully help provide a sanctuary for others who might need a hand up, with our beautiful campground property.

I worked a part time job in town to get by, saving just enough to pay for gas to get me out to Ouray Colorado. Because I've done 5 other high-altitude races, I knew the key to a finish at Ouray would be to be completely acclimated to the high country by race day. With that in mind, I left Virginia almost immediately after finishing Froggy Mountain 100 and drove out to Dillon Colorado, for a planned 3-week acclimation period in the high country. Knowing I was alone, extremely tight on money and without many belongings in the world, my amazing sister Lisa drove out from Utah and met me at a Costco where she filled my car with camping supplies, and a ton of food I could use for the race and to live on while staying in a tent on national park land. We hadn't seen each other for years due to family conflict and we had some treasured time together that I'll always be grateful for.
I lasted a few days camping on National Park land, but the mosquitos were terrible. I had almost no internet connection and truthfully, I wasn't prepared for the feelings of isolation and loneliness of being in the mountains without friend or family. I set up a good camp and hiked some beautiful country for a few days, but eventually decided to pack up my tent and found a 24 hr. parking lot just on the edge of Frisco Colorado to make my home for the next week.




This ended up being kindof a crazy experience, but oh, so valuable! I lived out of my car like a hobo, I got my water from the nearby river, bathed in it and in park bathrooms, made use of porta potties and enjoyed the relief of mosquito abatement. My first day there, July 1, I summitted Buffalo Mountain and hung out with a mountain goat. Felt the thrill of accomplishment at climbing a mountain well. Unfortunately, on the way down I was caught in a really bad hail-windstorm, and in my hurry to narrowly avoid hypothermia, I fell hard on my knee. The pain jolted thru my body like a lightning bolt. I had to take a few days off from hiking and instead walked around Lake Dillons paved bicycle path. Still at just under 10,000 feet, I was in the process of acclimating. As the pain eased up a little, I wore a brace and carefully summitted 4 more mountains that first week.










The beauty of the high country was overwhelming. Waterfalls, wildlife, fields and fields of high alpine wildflowers... I started to feel more comfortable with being alone and embracing the acievement of climbing a mountain by myself, and of being completely self sufficient. My knee continued to give me trouble but I had to keep the climbing. Going up was strong, the descents were slow and painful. My biggest achievement the first week was climbing Mt Victoria on the 4th of July. Reaching just below 13,000 feet, there were narrow trails with drop offs plummeting thousands of feet to the highway below. With my 20 lb pack throwing me off balance, it was a terrifying moment but I knew facing that fear of heights was essential for getting through Ouray. July 4 was the height of my loneliness. I'd never in my entire life been without family on Independence Day. Both my daughter Hannah and Kevin called me in the evening and that helped a lot. I thought about people who live with that sadness every day of their life and hoped that after this experience I would do better at reaching out to people.








I took time to get down to Denver to the LDS temple. There we make covenants to live righteous lives, and receive promises, one of which is to have a properly working body and to “run and not be weary, and walk and not faint.” To me that was a critical component of my race. I had a chance to go on a date while in Denver, and hang out again with Lisa while she was working a convention.













I made it to the LDS chapel for church Sunday morning before heading out to Ouray the next day. I sought out the missionaries and they gave me a blessing for my knee, and blessed me that I would feel Heavenly Fathers love, support and that my knee would hold up and I would finish the race. I still had quite a bit of knee pain, but I let the fear of it diminish, and tried to have faith that I would complete the miles under cutoff. I met a kind man named Pete at church who also had a knee injury. It got us talking and laughing and we spent the day together Sunday. He'd been through a terrible divorce a few yrs earlier and had lived out of a storage shed so he really sympathized with my plight. He put me up in a condo for a good night's sleep and a shower, gave me some cash for groceries and gas, took me out for a manicure and pedicure and dinner, which was quite hilarious given the current state of my nonexistent toenails and filthy fingernails from camping. Also outfitted me with a bunch of camping supplies like a Leatherman tool, axe, fold up wagon, lights etc. It was super nice and he was pretty handsome, ha-ha. Turned out he has a 23 yr old son struggling from suicide ideation, so we had a long conversation about mental health, the gospel and various other things. I had been shorted $160 in cash that I was planning to have for food for my trip, and it was exactly the amount Pete had given me for groceries. I felt very cared for like the Lord knew where I was at, my needs, and made sure they were fulfilled. Having a condo where I could cook a hot meal, take a shower, sleep in a real bed and do my laundry was literally heaven! I was also able to connect with the Womens leader at church and tell her about my mission and struggles and get emotional support from her.



I left Frisco the next day and headed to Ouray. Dexters presence was palpable from the beginning of my trip, but became even more noticeable as I started the final leg towards destination Ouray. So clear were his thoughts that I felt at times he was sitting in the front seat next to me. He guided me on a few personal errands along the way, some that were quite surprising but were exactly what I needed to do. One in particular involved pulling over in Montrose, Colorado at a pawn shop. A story for another time. As I drove through Montrose, Colorado and saw the crazily jagged San Juans off in the distance, trepidation and excitement filled my heart! Yikes! I was really going to Ouray to do this thing!
I accidentally arrived a day before my camping reservation and spent the night on a picnic table, which was quite fun sleeping under the stars in a warmer climate. Frisco had been chilly, dropping into the high 30s at night. I soon got settled at the Amphitheater campground sitting high above Ouray around 9000 feet. This tiny little western town surrounded by towering peaks took my breath away. One of my all-time favorite books on philosophy is Atlas Shrugged, and the secret valley of high achievers aka Galts Gultch in the book, was inspired by Ouray Colorado. I'd been listening to the audiobook while going through my divorce as a reminder to me of my values and love of achievement and people who prize their good character above all else. It seemed right, to be in this real life Galts Gultch, knowing it would soon be full of high achievers ready to run the 100 miler with me. My campground was completely in the sun, with 85 degree temps, so it was a little bit miserable but I decided it was solid heat training/sun exposure to get me mentally ready for the race. I saw wildlife everywhere, deer, fox, and even a black bear who came to visit my camp one evening. I spent the week hiking mountains that would be part of the race course. Weehawken, Imogene Pass, King Ouray Mine. I hoped to do several more but my knee pain was reoccurring on the downhills.









When my pacer and crew chief Kevin Silvey finally arrived in town, we did one huge climb together, through fields of wildflowers at sunset for a moonlit summit at Imogene Pass, but after that with 5 days to go until the race, he all but forbade me from doing any more big hikes so I didn't get to preview the most challenging climbs of the race course prior to race start. It ended up being a good thing both for me knee, and frankly because it kept me from knowing what hellish climbs I was truly in for. We spent the week together car camping and checking out waterfalls, rivers and some easier trails. Kevin is of course, a gourmet chef so he kept me eating amazing pre-race, athlete friendly meals full of protein and vitamins so I would be in peak nutrition & recovery mode for the start line. It was a good time while we hung out and waited for the rest of our Froggy Mountain friends to arrive. I think the coolest things that happened during the week was camping at high altitude, taking a swimsuit shower on a cliff in a waterfall, seeing the brilliant milky way, hunkering down during a mid-day heavy thunderstorm <3 and having a mountain lion tail us. We spotted it from the car driving back, at least 6 ft long in the middle of the road.


















Paul, & Zach Coggins, the 2nd and 3rd place winners at Froggy Mountain 100, all 3 of us would be running Ouray together, and many of our Virginia friends were coming to support us. Zachs adorable wife Emily, Paul's girlfriend Heather, Andrew Harvey who created our Froggy Mountain Portal, and my amazing friend Madison who paced me at Rocky Raccoon joined the fam to help pace me and fight for the buckle. Honestly, I couldn't ask for better friendships. They are family. All such positive, supportive, dreamers and high achievers with the highest moral character and drive to achieve. I was reminded of something Kevin often says, “ I love being around winners.” To have the privilege of being at the start line of the toughest race in America, and one of the toughest in the world, with these people who are so special to me, was truly an honor and my heart was brimming with love. I had some things still going on in my personal life that kept my heart churning, looking for guidance and answers. I hoped I could find them in the mountains. Words to a favorite childhood song stayed with me, and seemed to be the guiding force forward as I started the challenge of a lifetime. "All that's wrong in your life, Let it go All that is worth saving is love.
Love will hold you tight. Love lifts the burden
And love shines the light.
Only love nourishes us, so
If it's not love simply... let it go”
The pre race meeting was a bit of a letdown. They need to hire a Froggy Mountain hype man to remind the runners that "Pain is Irrelevant. "



8am, the start line of the world class Ouray 100. As close to an elite level course as possible, while still being doable for the high achieving athlete. I hoped this girl had what it took. I did not allow for the possibility of failure in my mind. Kevin had coached me for weeks, reminding me that I could not say “IF” I finish, but “When.” His belief and focus and support in my abilities to knock out this course, encouraging me in my training and analyzing my efforts and preparation and his confidence that I would finish kept my focus on the goal, and I started that race believing I would cross the finish line with Dexter and my Marines. I felt so honored to be wearing blue and to be carrying these angel Marines to the tops of the Rocky Mountains on a course that would do the highest honor to their lives and legacy. I felt they would be with me and would protect and strengthen me, and they did throughout.




The first climb of the race up to sparkling turquoise lakes was 'easy' and spectacular. I felt palpable joy climbing the mountain tailing a few miles behind Paul and Zach. I was in no hurry, I knew I had to conserve energy so I stayed at a steady pace and tho in the tail end of all the runners, Dead f-ing last at times, I knew eventually many would drop out and I would move up in placement. After the first big climb and enjoying amazing food and support at the Richmond Aid station (hash browns, perogies, breakfast burritos etc!) The challenges really began. A grueling short but incredibly steep and rubbly climb to the Chicago tunnel, a cold and steep climb to Imogene Pass, but surpassing the pass, we actually climbed to the summit at 13365 feet in altitude at Fort Peabody. The scree was difficult and slow to climb but the views were outrageous. The highest I've ever been in my life! On the descent runners were hit with a fast-moving hail-lightning rainstorm and I had to get out of my summer gear and put on my winter gear. One of the big challenges in Ouray is that you have to carry so many supplies. Literally within minutes you can go from summer to winter weather, so you have to be prepared for the change of conditions. It makes for a heavy pack, not to mention needing to carry extra headlamps, food and water. The calorie burn and the dehydrating effects of the high-altitude atmosphere are real and can end your race very quickly if you don't have everything you need. That cold, swift moving hailstorm was a reminder how deadly these mountains can be.





Prior to the race I'd used Petes Leatherman and put screws in my shoes for traction. The gravel/sand trails are more slippery than ice and can be quite dangerous. One fall can end your race or send you plummeting off the side of a cliff. The screws made ALL the difference in the race. I'd put them in too deeply and on my last training hike when Kevin and I went out to climb the Weehawken trail with Zach and Emily, I realized the screws were poking into my feet. Kevin did some last-minute adjustments, so I didn't feel the screw poking me anymore unless I hit a rock patch particularly hard. I think I fell once, the entire race. That advice from the RD for screws in the shoes was invaluable to my finish.
The storm blew over and after another stop at the Richmond aid station, I began a beautiful sunny hike up over the famed and notorious Richmond Pass. I realized why returning over this mountain pass in the dark midrace becomes a quitting point for many runners. The climbs aren't particularly technical, but the trail is narrow, insanely steep and feels as if it goes on for miles and miles each direction. Some of the most beautiful flowers and views of the entire course, I felt like I could be Heidi, up in the Swiss Alps with her grandfather, all I needed were a few goats and a goatherder boyfriend, lol. The view of the red mountains at the pass was spectacular and I was so glad to see them in the daylight. After a long descent I rolled into the first crewed aid station where I was greeted by my sister, Emily, Heather, Andrew and Kevin, who was of course, cooking up the perfect food I needed, high protein and carbs for a grueling long double stretch over the corkscrew gulch and back. Madison my pacer was also there, she wasnt going to pace me till the next day but she was out working with the crew to help me. It was such a mental boost to see them all :-) . I had to cover both directions of this loop, roughly 16 miles as a 2 way 8 mi loop with a stop again with my crew in Ironton in the middle.



The rough jeep roads are technical, sandy, gritty and wearisome. I was overdressed in the direct setting sun, but once it set it quickly got cold. The views of the red peaks and surrounding mountains at sunset, with the full moon rising, is one of the greatest sights I've ever seen in my life. The overwhelming beauty drowned out some of the fatigue for a brief time, though it ended quickly as we hit a narrow technical and wet trail in places descending down to the crew and aid station. When I hit the aid station mid corkscrew gultch section, only Kevin and Emily were awake. I was exhausted, feeling a little despair at my ability to do that loop again and face the return trip over Richmond Pass. That was looming in my mind, knowing the killer climb I had ahead. Kevin and Emily got me fed, rehydrated, and mostly lifted my spirits with their belief in me and got me back safely on the trail. After a brief wrong turn of about a mile, I was back on track for the climb near the red mountains my moonlight. Everything had an eerie light, I was all alone, runners had stopped to sleep, quit or were ahead of me. I spent solitary hours alone under the moon and exhaustion finally hit. For the first during the race I l'd down in the middle of the road under the moon and slept. I think I had maybe a 5-minute nap before I felt someone awaken me and encourage me to keep going. I was alone physically but had angels with me. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I rolled into Ironton again with Kevin and Emily, so diligent, pushing me forward towards Richmond Pass. I finally caught up to Paul at this point as he'd stopped for a nap. I wanted to quit. I knew I couldn't quit. I had no choice but to move towards the next aid station. I had no confidence that I would make it in time and figured I would be cut at the next stop, but I'd determined to follow Kevins pointed advice. D.F.S. Don't Fu**** Stop.






I carried cold weather gear tho it felt unnecessary in the warm evening climb under the full moon. It felt like hours and hours climbing up-up-up through the forest, into the wildflower fields until finally reaching the windblown rocky pass. The sky had been crystal clear, and the full moon was brightly shining but about this time the weather took a quick turn for the worse. Fortunately, I'd determined to always be prepared for bad weather because runners here, there were several of us, were hit by a high-altitude rain-hail- lightning storm. I had to stop several times, shivering, to pull out various pieces of gear as the storm accelerated. First a coat, then my emergency mylar blanket and poncho, then mittens, then hand coverings and hot hands to keep my hands dry and warm. Each stop felt dangerous as lighting was flashing all around me and rain was soaking me quickly and bringing my body temperature down. Water flooded parts of the trail and I descended as quickly as I possibly could. The storm lasted a few hrs. I felt scared at first but that feeling of presence settled on me, and I knew my boys were with me and would help me safely get off the mountain. As the sun slowly began to rise, the rain let up and brought in comfortable temperatures and I was able to shed all my rain and cold gear. I understood the Richmond aid station was supposed to be water only, but those amazing volunteers stuck through the night and had hot food available to us runners. I ate a delicious hot dog for breakfast.
The morning started to get warm as I made my way to the Weehawken, a steep but easy descent down the smooth gravel road of Box Canyon. There were many jeeps but I wasn't tortured with the dust clouds we had the day before, because of the rain. Id been wearing a mask for dust and cold weather and my luungs had been aching during the night but they recovered with the clean air. I was having to pee every 10 minutes which was so annoying, but thankfully it seemed to go away by the time I met up with Madeline at mile 53 to pace me up the Weehawken trail. This isn't a hard climb. It's through some beautiful aspen and pine forest and wildflowers. It got very steep towards the end which I hadn't traversed in my training. And hot. My stomach felt sick and I ended up vomiting several times, and having to find a place to go #2 at high altitude, using a rock for toilet paper, lol. The pressure on my gut relieved, I was able to climb a little better. Madeline is so friendly and fun and a solid climber. She kept me pushing the pace to the amazing lookout at the edge of a cliff, 3000 feet above Ouray.





The next section of the race, the Hayden trail up over the mountains to Crystal Lake was probably if not the worst, the second to hardest section of the entire race. 3600 feet of climb in about 7 miles. The trail is very exposed to sun, very steep with very loose gravel and footing. With false summits and not quite knowing how far the aid station was away, I thought we were heading up to an alpine lake, not completely climbing and descending the mountain. It felt like this trail lasted for eternity! I ran out of water 1/3 of the way through, thanks for Madeline and another runner who shared fluid with me, I managed to make it though I got fairly dehydrated. The burning sun gave way to a chilly, cold and windy trail across the tops of the mountains through wildflower meadows. Because the morning had been so hot, I'd made the mistake of changing into Madelines shorts so that I could rub cbd oil in my knee and I left all my coats in her car. The shorts and lack of coat running along the tops of the mountains started to chill me and got me shivering. I started to be afraid that I was going to get hypothermia with some rain that started to fall. Madeline amazingly, ran ahead and left me to run towards the aid station and hopefully get a coat from Kevin and make her way back to meet me and warm me up. The scenery was spectacular but I hardly enjoyed it, I was focused on praying to stay warm and to move quickly, to be able to descend to warmer weather. It took awhile I guess for Madeline to get to the aid station, it really was a very long descent, but I was so grateful to hear Kevin coming up the trail calling out my name. Tho steep and rugged he'd hurried to meet me and brought me a warm coat so with the lower altitude and coat I quickly got my body temperature under control. He brought me food and a drink as well and I was able to start rehydrating as we rolled into the aid station. It was the only place I really got to see Zach and Paul finally, Paul had dropped out of the race after an extended period of cold and lightning exposure. Zach was still going but taking an extended rest at the Crystal Lake aid station. It was kind of ugly there, not a pretty lake and we were on the side of the road. I laid down on my coat for a few minutes to rest and settle my stomach. I got a lot of warm clothes on, and was refed, fueled and supplied for the long climb back. I was still decently ahead of cutoffs, but they were getting shorter and shorter each trip. Kevin had made one of his gorgeous hamburgers and handmade sweet potato fries for me, but because my stomach was suffering with nausea I was only able to eat the sweet potato fries and eventually threw them up re climbing the mountain pass.
Lisa was at the aid station and full of help and suggestions and like a little mother helped me get what I needed together for the next climb. I was overheating now and she got a cold pack put down my back that helped a lot. I also still had to carry a butt load of warm gear remembering the near hypothermia just a short time before. I'd lost my fanny pack with my phone but a pacer I'd met out training the week leading up the race fortunately found it. Soon with hugs from everyone and words of encouragement, we headed back over the mountain pass for the next stop, Fellin park 8 miles and probably 4+ hours away.



As we climbed and I took the opportunity to empty the contents of my stomach, I felt okay but the ascents were becoming difficult on tired legs, low calories and realizing I hadn't taken quite had enough hydration. We made it across the high rolling trail to descend back down the murderous, steep, loose gravel climb. It was painful. Once again, I was extremely grateful for the crews in my shoes. I started falling asleep on my feet, so Madeline kept watch while I took a deep, long, 8-minute trail nap. It was enough to perk me up a little. The late afternoon sun was bearing down on us on the hot side of the mountain as we descended, and I got more and more dehydrated. When we finally reached the bottom, Madeline left me to go to her car a few miles up the road where she had water and I started down the road towards town, desperate for a drink, looking for a creek to drink from. Unfortunately, only found muddy puddles. I was roasting hot and sweating and felt like I had heat exhaustion. Madeline drove up in her car with melted ice in her cooler. I dumped it down my back, over my head, refilled my bottle and drank deeply, so grateful and feeling cool, thirst abated and refreshed. She left in her car to meet me at the Fellin Park aid station, just a few miles away in town. The moment Madeline drove away, there was a sudden turn in temperature. A storm moved in and I went from sweating and overheated to shivering and teeth chattering. I pulled out my rain coat quickly but it wasn't enough to feel warm, luckily I had my hot hands deep in my pack, and body warmers, so I used both. The course wasn't well marked here and I missed the turn into town and had to backtrack and search around for the trail to get back to the park. It was frustrating and cold and I lost probably half an hour trying to stay warm and find the route in the pouring rain. I couldn't find my crew at first and really I can't recall anything much at that point except being cold and hungry and exhausted. :( Kevin found me and got me to the van to resupply, get my night gear and push Madeline and I back out onto the road for our next big climb, Twin Peaks. Someone had bought me a beautiful pizza, but I was only able to eat 1 bite. :(



We climbed a gentle trail out of town to a waterfall and then the trail began to very steeply ascend up the side of the mountain. There were some stairs, but the incline was ridiculously steep, and every step took a lot of effort. We climbed and climbed and climbed up this very steep gorge. After several miles the trail briefly leveled out, so I thought we were nearing the top of the climb, the views were beautiful nearing sunset, unfortunately we still had thousands of feet towering above us. We pushed higher and higher up the mountain, steeper and steeper, wetter and wetter. I got overwhelmed with tiredness again and laid down next to a log and slept for maybe 5-8 minutes before we continued the climb. It was dark when we reached the rock scramble at the top of the mountain. It was so steep that I abandoned my pack, and then my trekking poles as we climbed a rock face hand over hand. We reached the top- and the-hole punch and it was so dizzying, it was dark, and the town of Ouray was thousands of feet below us, sparking in the evening light. The edge felt so close like you would drop right off the edge and land in town if you got too close. It was in.sane.


We quickly descended with much relief, then made the arduous trip down the mountain to the Silvershield aid station. The descent should have felt 'easy' but I was exhausted and stumbling on rocks all the way down. We crossed a brief somewhat level area which had dinosaur tracks in the rock, from what I understand, one of the largest such sites in the world. We made it to the aid station in the early morning. I had my tunes playing all night, especially some John Denver to keep my spirits up. My emotions were a rollercoaster.

We rolled into the Silvershield aid station with something like 5 minutes to spare. I was in a brain dead zombie-like state. Some woman was there helping me and being very attentive. I didnt realize until later on that it was my friend Jenn, lol. She got me eating or drinking or something to revive myself. I left the aid station and sat just outside of it, but I wasnt off the hook for the cutoff. I had to go. I was too exhausted and dazed to realize it. Out of the dark somewhere Kevin showed up. I don't remember much about this stop except Kevin getting into my face and forcing eye contact. Telling me calmly that I could do this. That I was going to finish this race, but that I had to get up NOW and leave. He promised he would be with me in 6 miles to pace me. I remember feeling likfe a small child, trusting him that I would get up and leave and climb and he would be there to help me soon. It was crazy how the exhaustion made me feel like I was literally in this very helpless state and needed someone to tell me what to do. Ill never forget Kevins eyes and green headlamp and encouragement to get going and move forward. The climb back up over the dinosaur tracks felt so long, but not so long as descending the 3000 ft steep gultch in the wee hours of the morning, that we'd climbed the night before at sunset. So unbelievably steep!
Well, the sun rose and we got into the last aid station. Kevin says with 17 minutes to spare. as promised, he was ready to run with me. I was somewhat in a delirium. Kevin told me to follow him to the car, but the race director grabbed me and led me out of the park and down the road to the trailhead. I had 6 hrs to do 10 miles with 4300 -ish feet of climb and descent up somewhat technical trails, with nearly 38,000 feet of vert already in my legs. I was so out of it, I didnt realize Id lost my pacer, I just started climbing. Kevin, Madeline and Jenn back at the aid station didnt know wher eI went so they had to take off after me. Kevin ended up doing an 8 min mile to catch me! Im so grateful he did. I needed him this last section. This was a hilarious video he took...
The last climb though long and relentless, was actually less steep than many of the others and was at the grade I'd been training on. After a quick prayer and look to the sky and asking my Marines for help, I felt a bit of steady strength return and though slow, we made steady progress. There were other runners around us that we jostled for place with, but it almost felt like a team effort, all of us struggling to reach the summit in time for a finish. 3-4 hour climb, up up up, through heavy barren rocky trails, alpine and pine forests, spectacular views, outrageously beautiful wildflowers, up one summit after another that rolled upwards like some kind of extreme rollercoaster. One of the men I kept time with was a Lieutenant in the Army and we'd had a talk about service and PTSD and he thanked me for being out there.
I started to get irritated at Kevin because he would run up way ahead of me where I couldn't catch him or see him, so I would try to catch up but feel a bit of despair at being left behind. In truth he was trying to move out of my reach so that I would press harder to catch him because he knew how close we were to not getting a buckle. I thought it was being mean, but it was actually good purposeful mean. He wasn't going to listen to me complain about nausea, and complaining about having to stop and dry heave because there was nothing in my stomach. He mostly silently watched me, then would get me going again. The constant drive forward. At one point because my stomach had been empty for hours & I started getting some severe stomach pain. The thin air was having its effects on my lungs which felt a little raw and raspy. I collapsed by the side of a trail with my feet in the air, trying to get some blood flow back to my stomach so I could move forward better. Kevin wouldn't let me lay there and feel sick and sorry for myself for long. He was hard-nosed and made me get up. I didn't realize it at the time but the clock was running out for the final cutoff. He was determined to get me to the finish. I wasn't happy but I needed the tough love to keep fighting. The rest helped, prayer while I stared at the sky helped. I literally felt unseen helpers get me to my feet. Soon my stomach was feeling better and I felt silent direction to start drinking my chocolate milk. Amazingly it stayed down when I took frequent small sips and soon had energy to climb again. We reached the most incredible summit, the “Bridge of Heaven” … cloudy and cool and windy with magnificent 360 views. It felt like such an incredible achievement and I was thrilled to share it with my best friend.



After a few minutes at the Bridge of Heaven, we had to get refocused and race to the bottom of the mountain to beat cutoffs. I felt reenergized and hopeful that I would make it. Miraculously my knee had carried me over 42,000 feet of climbing at this point and as much descent and didn't give me much trouble, but the last 5 miles it finally was done. I was limping-skipping-hopping & running sideways down the mountain trying to avoid bending my knee and still running. I was in a lot of pain but it didn't matter. Pain is irrelevant. I was too close to the end of this incredibly difficult journey; I could not let it stop me. The last 3 miles every step was excruciating, especially when we hit the portion of trail that is like running on a rockslide. We tried not to let up. The morning sun was glaring. We were laser focused on moving as quickly as possible. Finally with some encouragement from hikers the miles ticked off, we reached the blacktop and road in Ouray, and jogged to the finish. I was so elated, the pain disappeared once on level ground, and I followed Kevin across the field at Fellin park and thru the cones to finish the Ouray 100 miler in 51:25. I was in a state of shock, relief, and disbelief. My sister met me in a costume for a big hug and then all my team from Froggy Mountain was there to congratulate me. I was so grateful they all stuck around in a great show of friendship. I knew I would do it. There were times I wanted to quit, times I didn't want to go to the next aid station and thought my race was probably over, but I never allowed myself to even consider stopping. DNS. Do Not Stop. I was going to have to be pulled from that course, and because of that, I conquered it. 1/12 female finisher, only 61/123 finishers.




Kevin footed the bill for a $4 shower and the hot springs, which was amazing. I was so incredibly exhausted. We planned to meet up with the Froggy Mt group for a post race meal, but we took too long showering, so Kevin ended up cooking me some amazing spaghetti and I ate to my heart's content. We'd been sleeping out of our cars just outside of Ouray along the river on BLM land, and I literally crashed on a blanket by the side of the road and slept all night. My car had been overheating, so the first thing I needed to do was hit the road and find a mechanic who could work on it. Everyone was still tired to the bone. We ended up having some major stress and drama that I won't get into, but I found myself all alone, with a victory buckle and nobody to celebrate with. I sat by the river and being super post-race emotional, cried my eyes out and prayed and felt sort of lost and just kindof asked the sky, 'whats next?' Felt Dexter sweetly guide me, with the simple thought to, “Stay the Course.”
Kevin and I met up later at a local Mexican restaurant that cost a fortune, but had the most ridiculously HUGE plates of food, I ate till I thought I would explode, then we parted ways. He was off to Salida to take photographs and I needed to get my car to Glenwood Springs to be fixed.
Somewhere around midnight, my water pump completely blew out. I refilled it twice with water/coolant and was trying to at least get to a nearby town for a tow. I suddenly felt Dexter with me like -hey mom, it's going to be okay. Immediately after 3 things happened, my car engine light came on and sputtered and the car came to a stop, Kevin called me to see if I was okay, and a policeman pulled up to check on me. Broken down on a highway in the middle of the night was a lot less scary knowing I had immediate emotional and physical support. The policeman went to his house and got me more water to fill my tank and offered me a place to sleep if I needed it. We got the engine to turn over and I was able to coast the last 2 miles into town right into the corner of a Walmart parking lot when my engine died completely. At least I was safely parked and could sleep. My car was completely crammed full of camping gear so I just laid a blanket out on the grass @ Walmart and fell asleep. 30 hrs later, I was still at Walmart, no tow, no mechanic to work on my car. I was getting panicky, flustered and in tears. All alone, just about out of money, some complications with my source of funding was basically leaving me penniless. I wasn't sure what to do. I had a peaceful feeling settle over me, and the thought that I needed to be patient, that I was supposed to meet someone in this town before I left, came to my heart. I calmed down and started making calls. Eventually found a German car repair place that had compassion for my tears and took my car in immediately. Keri Jacobs from 22toomany, Molly Hansen my dear friend from Wear Blue who runs for Dexter, and my sister Valerie helped me with funds to cover some meals and 2 nights in a hotel. I wandered around town a little. I didn't want to spend any extra money I'd been gifted, not knowing how much the car repair would cost me. The spirit led me to go into a church food pantry where I found volunteers -missionaries from the LDS church, who hooked me up with a bag of food and a hot meal. I enjoyed a long lunch at a cafeteria table with some homeless guys and really had some great conversations listening to each of their stories. The love that the Savior feels for the downtrodden was palpable. I felt in some ways like I was sitting at a table with kings. The scripture “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” sat in my heart. I did get in some good recovery walks, though smoke in the air made my eyes burn and it was 95 degrees out.



One of the guys, probably not much older than Dexter would be right now, talked to me a lot thru lunch and then met me at the library afterwards. We sat and talked for hours and I did a bit of writing, just trying to find a place to stay cool in the hot Colorado afternoon. I was disappointed when I got a text from the mechanic that it would take yet another day so I crashed at a cheap motel. Still the hot shower and clean sheets and a comfortable bed were an unbelieveable gift. Had some kind of stomach pain and my kidneys really hurt and I was praying for what to do, when I got a text at 10pm from missionaries who'd been at the homeless shelter. They offered to give me a blessing the next day and that was a huge relief. I was up by 4am and did a gentle 10 mile run in the cool morning in hopes I'd be on my way back to Virginia. My new friend Shannon met me at 730 am with a donut, we sat together and ate the continental motel breakfast together. then made our way back to the food pantry where we had a hot lunch. I was so happy to finally meet with some guys from the local LDS church. We got to talk for a while and I told them all my woes and they said a healing prayer for me, which really comforted me, and I knew I'd be okay. I'd been worried of course, having no health insurance.
Finally, after 4 days stuck in Montrose Co and wierdly, having some personal attacks coming from multiple unexpected sources and feeling kicked when I was down, I was finally back on the road and sleeping in the car. I spent a few more days near beautiful Frisco, Colorado where Kevin met me. We hiked out first 14'er together and did a couple other awesome hikes. I got to spread some of my moms ashed from the summit of Quandary Mt.
We then drove out to Leadville where I realized with some unexpected prompting from Dexter in the form of "Dexter" washers n dryers in the laundrymat and Dexters song "Carry on My Wayward son playing, that I needed to stay in Leadville on my own and run one more 100 miler while out in Colorado. So, here I am polishing off writing about a month-long adventure of a lifetime, and getting ready to roll on a completely solo 100 miler in Leadville Colorado, on the iconic course.
(How I felt walking 6 miles in the 95 sun from the mechanic, feeling hurt and downtrodden with my phone texting all kinds of unkind things, it was wierd.)








I feel like I've lived a lifetime in the past few weeks. Love, pain, loss, triumph, loneliness, victory, faith, fear, passion, despair, empathy.... I think I've covered just about every range of human emotion possible. Despite the challenges I've faced I never gave up knowing I could finish this 100 miler, independently survive on my own, or face any challenge before me. I know I haven't really truly been alone this entire experience. I think Dexter knew how monumentous a task it was to come out as a single woman alone to run this world class event, and he hasn't left my side. I think I've felt his companionship more than I ever have since his death. I believe we are doing good things together. I have many obstacles ahead, not the least, finding a job to be able to fund my remaining 25 races and travel, but also just to continue to get by on my own. There are things in my heart I have to hold silently in my heart and somehow continue to move forward, grow, love, and live. I do know I'm completely surrounded by both a church community and the ultrarunning community, some of my family and dearest to my heart right now, my Froggy Mountain family. Somehow it will all work out. On my moms gravestone are the words “Consider the Lilies” “Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. " My sisters and I chose those words because my mom lived a life of turmoil, abuse, trial and poverty, but throughout it all she had perfect faith, that God would provide for her needs. She truly was more beautiful in heart than Solomon in all his glory. I thought of that a lot these past few weeks, living like a hobo out of my car, bathing in rivers and waterfalls, baking over a campfire, scrounging water wherever I could find it, having surprise help coming from so many different directions, everything provided for; including charcoal for a fire, friendship when I was down, a hot meal, a place to sleep, a miracle mechanic and miracle cbd oil for my knee race day, beautiful stars and wild mountain nights, even a ride and a donut from a gentle kind homeless man whose life circumstances were far far worse than mine. I'm so very grateful I was able to conquer the mountains of Ouray, take Dexter and my heroes Jacob, Jake Taylor, Morgan and Dillon to the highest of heights, in honor of their great spirits.
I'm excited to go to Hopes Pass and say the names of my boys one more time before I leave these beautiful Rocky Mountains. I think I will be back next year, more prepared for the brutality of the Ouray 100 course.











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