You read that right—no need to rub your eyes or check your glasses prescription. I want to run 100 miles. 100.Miles. Very soon, actually. At the Pinhoti 100 on November 7th.
I know, I’ve said these exact words before (for those of you long-time followers with elephant-like memories). I paced my friend Greg at Pinhoti two years ago and essentially stepped off the trail that weekend and decided that I too would run 100 miles—one day.
Well kids, one day has finally come. It’s my turn.
I’m fortunate to be surrounded by a positive bunch of crazies who think 100 miles is a perfectly reasonable distance to run. I adopted a strategy a few months ago when I began quietly dreaming about this race—I only told people who I knew would support my decision and become my cheerleaders for the duration of training. I used their reactions to gauge my level of insanity. Had I been met with wide eyes and conversations that began, “I would wait a few more years…” then I may have rethought my decision. Instead, I got showered with “You can do it!” and “I’ll help!” and started to believe that I can actually do this.
And I am ready! Damn it, I will finish this race! I have hopped on the crazy train that’s careening out of control toward a fuck-ton of miles and a shiny belt buckle. I’ve become an ultra-running sponge and have been immersing myself in articles about 100s, race recaps, and training plans. I’ve started to compile playlists and mantras to get me through the suck. I’ve been visualizing trudging up Pinnacle in the middle of the night and being greeted by a bacon quesadilla and all my friends.
Some of you sane human beings may have a few questions, other than the obvious, “Have you lost your damn mind, woman?” Maybe this will help:
Why 100 miles? Why not? I’m telling you—being at ultras surrounded by so much positive energy and excitement and enthusiasm is contagious! You see runners of all ages and fitness levels going through some of the highest and lowest moments of their lives. And instead of being turned off by the smell of sweat and the sight of oozing blisters, you’re like I want that to be me!
I want to run for hours on a runner’s high fueled by family and friends and foliage. I want to be in a world of hurt, fighting for every step forward, cursing the day I ever heard of trail running and those who got me into it. I want to jump across the finish line and then most likely crumple into a pile of leg cramps, knowing that I gave my all and then some and I am a badass fucker who can do anything she sets her mind to.
Why Pinhoti? Sure there are easier, flatter, more scenic courses. But they’re not calling out to me just yet. At Pinhoti, I’ll be surrounded by friends along the course, at the aid stations, and at the finish line. Which means if I pull a Humpty Dumpty and start to fall apart, I essentially have my entire tribe there to put me back together again. Plus, the first weekend of November in Alabama is practically peak fall foliage season, so I get to run through all the colors for 100 miles. And that stupid little detail makes me very happy.
So follow along as I run all the miles, eat all the food, and take all the naps between now and November 7th. I’ll be documenting this mad journey through Facebook, Instagram, #roadtoPinhoti100, and of course, on here. Feel free to send over any words of advice or encouragement—I’ll take it all! I’ll also take constructive criticism and taunts and give in return some bruised kneecaps. I kid. Or not.