Where the Waiting Ends: My Western States 100 Begins
We wait so long for a thing to happen. But, before we know it, the time has come to begin. And now, it’s my turn to start. It’s the eve of my first – and likely only – running of the Western States 100.
An iconic race like Western States means different things to each person that toes the line. But, I think we all agree: this is not simply a race. Western States is a mindset, an approach to life, a commitment to pursuing the best in ourselves. I will lean in hard to my purpose and my why through the moments of suffering, joy, triumph, and trial.
Why Do I Do This?
The older I get, the more I want fulfilling and challenging experiences in beautiful places. There is nothing quite like running 100 miles to fill my cup. I love the challenge of the distance, the necessary and constant problem-solving, and the moment when my brain finally shuts off from outside cares and becomes singularly focused on the trail ahead of me.
I love being in the wilderness. Being in the woods and the mountains is not a theme park ride. Every turn brings something new to see, and every segment presents new challenges to manage. Even if I’ve been on the same trail many times – it can be very different each time. I love how the lack of rhythm forces mental focus on the present as it unfolds under my feet. Time moves slowly and quickly in contrasting directions, and the only way through is to tune in fully.
I love the night time miles. The race has settled. It’s me and my thoughts, with hordes of stars, glittering in the sky, the sounds of “what the fuck was that?” as animals go bump in the night, and the pitter pat of my feet. All I can see is a few feet in front of me and that’s all I need to worry about.
I want to push to the edge of my ability, to work through all the funky feels, so that I might learn what waits for me in the dark spaces of effort. For this race – the outcome goals (beyond finishing) are much less important than where the trail takes me, and where it already has taken me.
What a Difference A Decade Makes
It’s been a decade since I first put my name in the Western States lottery. I have waited year over year to hear my name called – and this was finally the year. (For those of you unsure of how the lottery works, visit here for details.)
I am in a relatively small group of people who have waited this long to run Western States 100. I had 8-years’ worth of tickets across 10 years, which is a polite way of saying: I’m getting old. But, this also means I have a decade of deeply meaningful experiences to stay fit enough – mentally and physically – to run a qualifier every year.
I entered the Western States lottery in 2015, when I raced my first 100 miler: the Javelina Jundred. It was a magical day. I was hooked on the 100 mile distance from go. I ran 21:30, and wound up the 8th place female overall. More important than the results, the process of running 100 miles is what enamored me. I detail that original experience here, if you are interested.
With the exception of 2 years (the Covid year, and the year I ran the Tahoe 200 in 2019), I’ve run a qualifier every year since that initial Javelina. “Running a qualifier” means that I pick from a specific list of races that are designated for entry into the Western States Lottery. Then, you pray to the lottery gods that your name gets picked before you die.
But, this journey is so much more than the qualifiers. It’s mountains and oceans, streams and sandy ditches, pine trees and dreams.
I’m not the same athlete who began this journey, but I’m indebted to that naïve younger version of myself. She is brave and fierce, and she will run with me. She likes to come out and play when I need her the most. That initial experience and all of the ones since have been formative and fulfilling.
My boundaries as an athlete have grown. I’ve hit stunning and brutal mountain summits in summer and winter. I skied alpine lines. I’ve won races, and DNF’d others. I crossed the Grand Canyon and back again–and then did it again because it’s an amazingly big beautiful ditch. I raced around Lake Tahoe! I crewed and paced friends on the same quest as me. I quit my “safe” job, and went all-in to run my own business. I moved across the country. I found myself at many finish lines, and starting lines.
I found myself.
So, you see, this race isn’t simply about running 100 miles. It’s about the days, weeks, months and years of LIFE I have had the privilege and the luck to live. It’s about the people I have met along the way, some of whom are my dear friends now. It’s an opportunity to push the limits of my body to learn more about life – to better LIVE my life.
This all feels a lot like how freedom should feel. And, so, I begin with gratitude for the life I’ve lived, the people I love, and the chance to keep writing this story.