Returning to the 100-Mile Distance

A Long-Awaited Comeback

This summer, I started and completed a 100-mile race for the first time in over six years. Prior to that, I’d raced competitively around the world for nearly 20 years.

When I crossed the finish line of the Gaoligong by UTMB 170km race in March of 2018—amidst laser lights, stage smoke, blaring music, and the grand announcement of being the first female and 10th overall—I had only three words in my head:

“I am done.”

It was a deep knowing that my competitive racing days had just wrapped on this international stage, and I couldn’t have asked for a grander exit. My foot was pressed in gold, and the most mystical trophy I ever earned made the long-haul flight home with me.

The Hiatus That Followed

No Urge to Return—At First

I gave it the requisite two months—once you forget how much it hurt, you’ll want to sign up for another. Nope.

I gave it two years and actually signed up for a couple of races in 2020 to see what it felt like and give it a chance again. But… 2020 happened.

Appreciating the Space Away From Racing

I’m thankful for the long hiatus, the additional time that COVID provided, allowing space between that perfect send-off from two decades of racing and the life that now fills my mid-40s.

Running remained a constant thread, a touchpoint that always brought me back to myself and connected me with an amazing community. But I no longer prioritized races when making life decisions.

Stepping Back on the Starting Line

The Decision to Run High Lonesome 100

Returning to the starting line on July 19, 2024, was a journey that started three years earlier.

The stunning race photos captured by fellow SCARPA athlete Gabe Joyes caught my attention, and I signed up for the 2023 event in 2022. However, I learned via direct email from the race director that I wasn’t even eligible for the lottery—I lacked a qualifying race.

Starting Over in the Ultra Scene

Twenty years of winning 100-milers, and I was back at square one.

After the initial shock, I actually loved it. My preferred process to qualify required running two back-to-back 50Ks in September 2023—both directed by the same organizers of HiLo. Once qualified, I entered the lottery again, and finally celebrated entry when my two friends, Jenny Jurek and Kathleen Egan, also got in.

Then came the biggest challenge: training for a 100-mile race while balancing life—owning a home, running two businesses, being in a relationship, and spending increasing time with his two young daughters.

Balancing Life and Training

Adapting to a New Reality

Blocking out entire days and weekends to run in the mountains wasn’t realistic for our family. Instead, I squeezed in 4-5 hour runs before a Saturday soccer game.

I was also curious to see what training for a 100-miler could look like with significantly less time. As a coach, I work with athletes balancing families, careers, and training. The best way to understand their challenges was to live it myself.

Building a Smarter Training Plan

Week by week, I wrote myself a training plan from a third-person perspective, taking into account life’s realities.

An old mantra resurfaced:

“Do the best with what you’ve got.”

Strength training at Trailhead Athletics and focusing on quality over quantity became the theme of my spring and summer. I averaged 50 miles a week and noted that recovery time was more essential than ever—or maybe that was just parenting + running.

The Mental Battle Before the Race

A Reality Check at San Juan Solstice 50

Amidst our family summer of fun, I squeezed in the San Juan Solstice 50-miler with Jenny Jurek and managed 10 days in Colorado, sleeping at Molas Pass in the back of a rented Subaru (some habits never die).

It was during that time that I faced the most important lesson of 100-mile training: mental preparation.

Revisiting the Mental Game

After four days of self-doubt that plunged deeper than I expected, I realized something:

In the past, my mental training came from big days in the mountains—navigating challenges, testing gear in bad weather, dialing in fuel strategies long before race day.

This time, I felt like I was cramming while tapering at the same time.

Writing Through the Doubts

On the fifth night, I sat down with my laptop and purged every doubt onto the screen.

I typed for nearly two hours until my bladder and an incoming storm forced me to stop. As I returned to my car, a rainbow framed it perfectly.

Signs, Transformation, and Trusting the Process

A Moth, a Message, and a Mindset Shift

This next part steps into the woo-woo realm, but I love it.

I was zipped into my NormaTec boots (recovery at 10,000ft!) when a moth started tapping on my car window.

I’m still not sure what compelled me to ask Siri,

“What is the significance of a moth?”

Her robotic response floored me:

“Moths have long been associated with transformation and rebirth.”

Reading further—new beginnings, returning to the light within—I laughed. A rainbow and now this moth? Signs were everywhere.

I realized I was processing my reconnection to this sport, but in a new way. This wasn’t a return to my past self. It was an evolution, holding both past experience and present reality.

The Race and the Finish Line That Mattered

Rewriting My Narrative

I took inventory:
✔️ 20 years of competitive ultra racing
✔️ Even more years of consistent running
✔️ Healthy and uninjured
✔️ Older, but stronger
✔️ Perimenopause changing things, but manageable
✔️ Five days sleeping above 10,000ft

With these notes, I flipped the script on self-doubt. I started the race with a temporary moth tattoo on my left quad and a smile on my face.

Embracing the Full Experience

The journey of an ultra race cracks you open. This time, I realized:

I didn’t have to figure anything out—the mental work was already done.

I got to (mostly) enjoy the experience, surrounded by longtime friends and new family.

The race wasn’t without hiccups—or digestive issues—but the key people in my life held space for it all.

Reflecting on a Lifetime of Running

Acknowledging the Past Without Living in It

I have a basket of unworn belt buckles and shelves of trophies that sat in boxes for years. Now, I display them for that previous version of me—and, mostly, for myself.

For years, I rejected being labeled as the runner. I hid my accomplishments in words and home décor.

Now? I embrace all that was and is.

A Different Kind of Finish Line

There were no laser lights or stage smoke at the finish of High Lonesome 100. I was nowhere near first.

Instead, I had Monica, Guy, Nichole, Gavin, Olive, and Etta shuffling the last 200 meters with me.

Our finish line photo, a bottle of whiskey, and a belt buckle—this time worn proudly—are the reminders of a journey that called on my past but transformed this aging athlete.