I was not planning to run this race at all. I was planning to merely go and crew a coaching client through his first 100-miler, maybe pitch in at an aid station or two. This was my first race as an ultra coach, and the first big race where one of my clients was competing.
During a local 50k, my athlete Daniel mentioned he was interested in the Tahoe 200. He’s one of those naturally athletic people, and had completed a few 50ks and one 50-miler, but he’d never run a 100-miler let alone a difficult 200. So the search for a spring 100-miler began so he could get one under his proverbial belt. Ozark Foothills fit the bill for a goal race: solid elevation gain, within driving distance of Memphis, long looped course and at least six weeks of training time. I quickly took stock of Daniel’s current fitness, and we devised a plan to get him as close to ready for the 100-mile distance as we could.
It wasn’t until about three weeks out from the Ozark Foothills 100-miler that the FOMO finally caught up with me—well, FOMO and cocktails with friends. And so, I was back on the race bandwagon. I spoke with Daniel, and after a bit of negotiation, decided that we’d stick together as long as possible but would have the option to split as long as “all our inside parts were still on the inside.” And so, we rolled out to Wildwood, Missouri, with the best laid plans and six weeks of long runs and hill workouts in the bank.
The course was comprised of four, 26.2-mile loops, each loop broken down into 5-7 mile long stretches between aid stations. As his coach, I know Daniel isn’t a strong hiker, so my goal was to keep him jogging as long as possible before we had to start the hiking intervals. We decided our “A” goal would be sub-24 hours, or 6 hours per loop. The first section was packed dirt trail with a few rocks, and we were easily in the lead pack. Two runners had pulled away around mile 3, but the rest of us cruised into the Mustang station at mile 5 together. The next 7 miles were difficult as the trail became more rocky, there were a few downed trees across the trail and two very steep climbs. Luckily, the next section was as runnable as it gets, and Daniel was running well.
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Rocky trails on the Ozark Foothills 100-mile course. Photo Jenny Thorsen
I knew we’d taken that first loop a little hot, but the adrenaline and the weather made it easy to push the envelope a bit. I checked in with Daniel to make sure he was still feeling solid, we swapped in full flasks and new snacks, and took off on loop two. This time we knew where we needed to conserve and where we could push, so we made a conscious decision to power hike more of the uphills and cruise the flats and downs, even though we were both feeling pretty strong. Daniel commented that his quads had moved past the tight stage to the “can’t feel them anymore” stage. Admittedly, as a coach, that was concerning before we even got to mile 50. Still, we were making great time and rolled back into the start/finish at mile 52 in just about 11.5 hours, and we were still 30 minutes ahead of our overall schedule. We were also third and fourth overall, and according to the volunteers at Roundhouse, second was only about 40 minutes ahead.
After finishing loop three, we were still 15 minutes ahead of 24-hour pace and I was ready to finish this thing. But Daniel was not. He’d rolled an ankle somewhere, his quads were basically rocks now, and he was definitely feeling the aggressive paces we’d held over the last three loops. “I know we said we’d split if we needed to, but I’m breaking the rule and I need you to stick with me,” he said while we were swapping flasks and grabbing food. I didn’t hesitate when I said, “Okay, then we stick together.” This was why I became a coach, and this was how I was going to get him through. We grabbed cups of chicken or vegetable broth—warm and salty and exactly what we both needed—and started walking our last loop. We left the start/finish at 11:44 p.m. and headed into the night.
Daniel got very quiet as I led him over the trail, walking at a brisk pace. I started asking him would-you-rather questions. Would you rather be invisible or be able to shape-shift? Would you rather retain the mind of a 30-year-old or the body of a 30-year-old forever? Really, anything to keep his mind engaged. At some point he started asking the questions back, and I knew we’d turned a corner. We got broth at every aid station, and just kept moving. I started doing my signature “sleep while walking,” using the edges of the trail as bumpers for when to open my eyes. “Are you sleeping?” Daniel asked me once when I wandered a smidge farther off trail than usual.
“Yes! How do you think I get through these things so fast?” I laughed back and made a conscious effort to keep my eyes open since I was leading our awful little parade.
Our walking pace meant we got to the out-and-back just about sunrise, which was a mercy to not have to do that in the dark again. I was dreading this section—the night chill had flared up some weird asthma thing and I was literally struggling to get air in my lungs for some of the climbs. Daniel turned out to be the leader here and said, “This is the last time you’ve got to do this, so come on.” I kept a steady mantra of, “I’m okay, it’s okay” in rhythm with my steps until the stone pile finally came into view. When we got back to Roundhouse, we decided to split up for the last 3 miles and give it everything we had. I skipped the aid station, and after a quick, “Are you sure?” to Daniel, and took off jogging toward the finish line. Those last miles felt like ages, but I finally rolled in just under 27 hours, and still the top female. I threw on some warm clothes and anxiously awaited Daniel’s finish—which happened about 20 minutes later. To say I was proud was an understatement. As exhilarating as racing is, having a front row seat to someone accomplishing a huge goal is infinitely more so.
We ran the entire emotional spectrum during those 97 miles—each dealing with our own and each other’s demons at various times. I’d love to say it was my coaching that made us successful, but it was the give and take of encouragement, the waxing and waning of energy and the decision to stick together and pull each other through that made it work.
See full results here.