Many people cannot fathom the thought of running 100 miles. There is simply no way a human can travel that far on foot. Even if it is possible, why would anyone want to put themselves through so much anguish? Running 100 miles requires a supreme level of physical fitness, along with mental toughness of biblical proportions. Granted, only a small underground group of runners are interested in these types of races, but 100 milers are held all over the world every year. In order to maximize their chances of finishing strong, most runners have "crews", a group of two or three people, usually family or friends, to help them. Crews have access to runners at certain aid stations throughout the race and often provide nourishment such as food, drinks, changes of clothes, a place to nap, etc. Having a good crew plays a significant role in the success of a 100 mile runner and can sometimes be the difference between finishing and not finishing. Another significant role in a 100 mile race is the role of a pacer. A pacer is someone who will rendezvous with the runner at a certain point in the race and run the last thirty or forty miles with them to the finish line . The pacer's job is to provide psychological encouragement at the right times, keep the runner moving, and give them some company, especially in the dark when it can be easy to get distracted and wander off course or get injured. The most exciting part of pacing someone, especially in their first 100 mile race, is providing the motivation to propel them to the finish line. Being someone's pacer, in my mind, is an honor because you get to play a role in their success. So, when I was presented with the chance to pace my friend Juan Carlos (JC) in his first 100 mile race, I jumped at the opportunity. He had signed up for a race called the Kodiak 100 in Big Bear Lake, California, and when he told me he was originally going to run alone, I offered to pace him despite having no experience. He accepted the offer and we mapped out our plans for me to meet him at mile fifty-nine in a remote area of the Southern California wilderness.
Big Bear Lake is one of my favorite places in California. Nestled in the San Bernardino Mountains two hours outside of Los Angeles, it is a year round destination for skiing and snowboarding in the winter and jet skiing, kayaking, and fishing in the summer. The Kodiak 100 is a race of extremes. The course circumnavigates the entire Big Bear Valley in a single loop, climbing and descending several mountain peaks along the way, including two ski resorts; Bear Mountain and Snow Valley. The race is run almost entirely on trails and fire roads, and lies mostly above 7,000 feet. Not only is there around 17,000 feet of elevation gain, but runners must also contend with the dangers of running in high altitude and unpredictable weather. I had left work around 4:00 PM, and after weaving through some Friday night L.A. traffic, I arrived in Big Bear shortly after the sun set for the day. I would be meeting up with JC at an aid station called the dump, which was a small parking lot where the Pacific Crest Trail intersects with the CA 18 highway. I had been tracking his progress online since the race started at 8:00 AM that morning. Last I saw, he was at Snow Valley, putting him right on target to meet me at midnight, as planned. My friend Edith was also coming up to Big Bear to pace her friend Violeta, and her crew had rented an RV for the weekend. Once Edith arrived and we found each other, it was decided that it was best for me to drive to the dump, try to sleep for a couple of hours in my car, and wait for JC. When I arrived, I saw runners crossing the road, an aid station was set up in the parking lot, and crew vehicles were parked all around. It was energizing to see so many enthusiastic crew members and strong runners out here in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. Stepping out of my car, I breathed in the crisp, refreshing mountain air. The sky was filled with stars, and the half moon cast a silvery light on the road. After checking in the with the staff and signing my paperwork, which by the way mentioned the possibility of serious injury or death, I reclined the seat in my car and tried to get some rest. It was around 10:30 PM so I had some time to try to sleep before JC arrived. Two and a half hours later, after barely getting a wink of sleep, I refreshed the tracking page on my phone to see if JC came through. Still nothing. Something had to have been wrong. It was approaching 1:15 in the morning and he definitely should have arrived by now. Had I missed him? Just then, a text from him popped up on my phone, indicating that he had arrived. I jumped out of my car and soon found him sitting in a camping chair wrapped in a blanket, eye glasses on, enjoying a bowl of hot soup with ramen noodles. Despite being stung by two bees earlier in the race, he looked pretty fresh and was holding up really well. We greeted each other and I introduced myself to Eligia and Sheny, his two crew members, who were selflessly supporting not just JC, but also his friend Alex during the race. Alex was about an hour behind JC and was expected to arrive shortly. I also met Maricris, who as one of Violeta's crew members and was awaiting her arrival. Sheny and Eligia had their SUV stocked with snacks and drinks and had been doing a great job keeping JC and Alex nourished. While JC was regrouping, I changed in my car, grabbed all of my provisions, and at 2:00 AM on the dot we bade the crew farewell and took off down the trail together to tackle the forty mile journey to the finish line in Big Bear Lake Village.
There was only modest elevation change as we followed the trail through the pine trees and along the edge of an ink black canyon before arriving at the next aid station in Burns Canyon four and a half miles later. As we approached, we saw a small group of runners sprawled out in camping chairs, eating and drinking, trying to regroup. When I asked one of them how he was doing he just shook his head. "Wrecked" he answered. We paused at Burns Canyon only long enough for JC to sip some hot coffee before disappearing back onto the trail and into the wild, our headlamps lighting the way. We talked casually as we carried on, enjoying the tranquility of the midnight wilderness. JC told me that his girlfriend, who lives in Modesto, was proud of him for even having the courage to sign up for this race. He was grateful for her support, and he said that he had "promised her a buckle", meaning that he was going to do whatever it took to earn himself a finisher's belt buckle. We plodded along the gentle terrain for a while before the trail began a gradual incline up the side of the mountain and became littered with rocks. The more rugged terrain forced us to slow our pace as we climbed around the sharp, loose rocks. Through the constant chirping of crickets, there was not a sound to be heard except for our footsteps and the occasional dog bark from houses near the base of the mountain, several thousand feet below. A clicking sound in the distance shook me from my focus. It was the sound of trekking poles making contact with the ground behind us. When I looked back, sure enough, a headlamp was quickly closing in on us. As it got closer, JC and I stepped to the side of the trail to let the runner through. "Hey, how's it going?" I asked as the man approached. No response. When his face emerged in the beam of my headlamp, he looked like he had just seen a ghost. He had a look of panic in his eyes, and he passed by us frantically along the rocks with the help of his trekking poles, not even acknowledging our presence. As we crested the top of the hill and made our way down the descent, the first rays of sunshine began lighting up the sky behind us. The morning sky quickly filled with vibrant color as we ran down the switchbacks towards the next aid station. By the time we reached the checkpoint at the base of Sugarloaf Mountain, mile seventy, the sun had risen, and Eligia and Sheny were at the aid station awaiting our arrival. JC took a seat near a battery powered space heater, trying to warm up as Eligia and Sheny brought him food and fresh clothing. A few minutes later, Edith emerged from the crowd and greeted us. She was waiting for Violeta to arrive and was preparing for her journey of pacing her to the finish line. Following closely behind Edith were JC's friends Alex, Nelson, and Gus. Alex was also running the 100 miler and Gus and Nelson had been taking turns pacing him since mile fifty-two. I introduced myself and we chatted as I sipped some insta-coffee and JC chowed down on an order of McDonald's pancakes, compliments of Edith. My watch read 6:49 AM when we checked out of the aid station and began the five mile, 3,000 foot climb to the summit of Sugarloaf Mountain. I admired the beautiful scenery as we made our way up the trail, running when capable, but mostly hiking. Here's a little fun fact about Sugarloaf Mountain; there are a lot of false summits. There were at least two instances where I thought that we were most definitely approaching the summit, only to see another distant peak further in front of us. There was nothing to do but keep moving. The course descended the same route that it climbed and several runners were making their way down as we trekked to the turnaround at the summit. About a mile from the top, a man wearing a white skirt and sandals flew by us down the mountain as we moved to the side of the trail. It took a moment to register, but I soon realized it was the first time I had seen a Tarahumara runner in person. The Tarahumara are an ethnic group who reside in the the deep canyons of the state of Chihuahua in Mexico and are known internationally for their ability to run effortlessly for hours on end. The skirt the man was wearing was traditional Tarahumara clothing and his sandals, properly termed "huaraches", were the trademark footwear of Tarahumara runners. Many people wonder how these men can run so gracefully with just sandals on their feet, but the truth is they don't know any different. Up until today, I had only read about them and seeing them in person tearing up the mountain was incredibly exciting. A short time later, the summit finally came into view. We stood on the highest point of the course, elevation 9,952 feet, as we checked in with the volunteers before continuing. Several runners greeted JC as we pounded back down the mountain, giving him words of encouragement. About halfway down the mountain we saw Edith and Violeta making their way up and gave kudos to each other. As we neared the bottom, we were approaching mile eighty-one of the race. This is around the time where for most runners, their legs become useless for moving them forward and mental strength takes over. As we came around a corner, we saw a woman standing on the side of trail, crying. The climb up to Sugarloaf had crushed her spirit and she had little hopes of finishing. Sensing her despair, JC and I stopped to help. We couldn't offer physical assistance or we risked getting disqualified, but in critical moments like this, words can be a powerful motivator. Ultrarunners will often provide psychological support to another runner in times of dire need and sometimes later in the race, that runner will return the favor. Team work is crucial, and sometimes hearing the right words of encouragement at the right times can be all a runner needs to keep from quitting. After giving her a quick pep talk, we continued down the trail and soon the aid station was upon us. To my delight, Sheny and Eligia really rose to the occasion and went to work on JC and Alex as soon as we arrived, changing their socks, soaking their feet in ice water, and providing snacks and drinks. I gobbled down watermelon, pickles, chips, and all kinds of goodies from the aid station while JC and Alex sat down and regrouped. I sat down nearby and took a good look at JC. He was eighty-two miles into his first 100 mile race and even though I knew he was exhausted he looked completely fresh. It was my first time pacing someone and it was his first time running 100 miles. It was uncharted territory for both of us, but I was determined to do whatever it took to get him to the finish line. I would be lying if I said that I didn't feel a little pressure. As a first time pacer, I didn't completely know what to expect before the race. It is not uncommon for runners to have at least one major meltdown during a 100 miler. If JC were to fall apart, it would be up to me to convince him that yes, he could go on. And what would happen if I couldn't get him moving again? Would I turn into the alter ego and start yelling at him to show him tough love? Would I have to restore a sense of hope in him that he lost after so many soul crushing miles? I knew that if JC didn't finish, I would be mostly to blame. If his journey came to an abrupt end, the questions would forever linger in my mind. Did I not push him hard enough? Or did I push him too hard to the point where he broke down? I was hoping for the best but prepared for the worst. Seeing him at mile eighty-two in good spirit was a huge relief for me but I knew that our journey was not over yet. JC and Alex were counting on Sheny, Eligia, Gus, Nelson and I, and it was up to us make sure they made it to the finish. We would either succeed or fail as a team.
We departed the aid station at 11:46 AM and began making our to the next aid station at the base of Bear Mountain, five and a half miles away. After throwing down some pretty fast miles during the descent, we rolled into the aid station at Bear Mountain, mile eighty-seven, feeling strong. After checking in with a volunteer, JC calmly informed me that he was falling asleep on the trail a few miles back while we were running. I was shocked but not particularly surprised. He had been running since 8:00 AM the morning prior with virtually no rest. Despite his drowsiness, he looked focused and determined and my concerns about whether or not I could get him to the finish line were beginning to slowly melt away. He was doing an amazing job, but I reminded myself that we still had some distance to go and I needed to be prepared for anything. The race wasn't over until he crossed the finish line. I wondered how Edith, Violeta, Alex, Gus, and Nelson were doing. We hadn't heard anything from them so we assumed they were surviving. Once we left the aid station, we picked up the single track trail shortly down the road and began the ascent up Bear Mountain. The climb was moderate compared to Sugarloaf and JC glided along the rolling hills and up the inclines with me following closely behind. After rolling through the Skyline aid station at mile ninety, we ran swiftly down a graded fire road that offered sweeping views of Big Bear Valley. The beautiful mountain scenery was a nice distraction, but this section was very exposed and the afternoon sun was beating down on us. At the bottom of the hill at mile ninety-five, a couple of guys had parked their pickup truck and were providing ice to runners. As JC popped some ice cubes into his mouth and I threw some down the back of my shirt, we prepared ourselves mentally for the final climb of the course. I knew it was going to be a doozy, but I didn't completely know what was in store for us until we talked with the two guys in the pickup. They advised us that the final aid station was at the top of the hill. Unfortunately, between us and the aid station was a two-mile, 1,500 foot climb. I didn't realize how challenging this climb was going to be until we were making our way up at a snail's pace, barely able to move forward. We exchanged few words along the way except for me giving JC occasional words of encouragement and him thanking me for stopping him from sliding backwards down the hill a couple of times. About halfway up, we decided to stop for a few minutes and sit on a rock to gather our senses. "You know I can't carry you right? That's against the rules" I said. Although JC was on the brink passing out, he got a kick out of my weak attempt at humor and we soon pressed on, step by step towards the next aid station. Just when we thought our bodies couldn't contend with one more step of this monster of a climb, we heard the sounds of aid station volunteers cheering runners on and waiving them in to the aid station. The aid station at the top of the hill was just another two switchbacks up the mountain and when we arrived, the volunteers greeted us with enthusiasm and were incredibly accommodating.
The final four and a half miles from the last aid station were run with a new mindset. My concern had completely vanished, and I knew that JC was going to make it. About a mile down from the aid station, he revealed to me something I didn't know; rather than showing support, a lot of people in the running community told him that he would not be able to finish. They told him it couldn't be done and that it would simply be too much for him. I was appalled at the lack of support that he received and told him the only reason why people were doubting him was because deep down, they were unsatisfied with who they were as individuals. I told him that when he crossed the finish line in just a few miles, he was going to be a changed man from this day going forward. Knowing that he was more capable than he ever imagined was going to change his whole outlook on life. Finishing a 100 mile race was going to be a life changing experience for him. The last mile was run with pure joy and emotion. We left the trail and ran down the paved street through a residential area towards the Village. The last hundred yards to the finish line were lined with spectators and I slowed to a walk during the last fifty feet and watched JC burst through the finish line. We immediately embraced in a hug and people crowded around him shouting his name out and giving him high-fives. He crossed the finish line at 6:00 PM in thirty-four hours and six seconds, beating the cutoff time by two hours. Alex, Nelson, and Gus finished shortly after and Sheny and Eligia rushed over to us and congratulated both JC and Alex on their amazing accomplishments. Unfortunately, Violeta wasn't so lucky. She had dropped out at mile eighty-two after twisting her ankle multiple times on Sugarloaf Mountain, but was still in good spirit. Eighty-two miles was an incredible accomplishment and Edith did a great job of pacing her and giving her pep talks when things got ugly. She gave it hell. We knew how tough Violeta was and she was determined to come back next year and finish. After the awards ceremony, we congregated at Sonora Cantina for a celebration dinner before heading back home. This day was really for the runners, but it was an experience that I will never forget. Sheny, Eligia, Gus, Nelson and I had all worked as a team, but in the end, it's the runner who finishes the race. I was incredibly proud of both of them and I knew that their lives would be forever changed. The next morning when I asked JC how he was feeling, he thanked me and said "it was hard but we did it". More like YOU did it, JC. I was just along for the ride. A fun and wild ride, if I might add!
There was only modest elevation change as we followed the trail through the pine trees and along the edge of an ink black canyon before arriving at the next aid station in Burns Canyon four and a half miles later. As we approached, we saw a small group of runners sprawled out in camping chairs, eating and drinking, trying to regroup. When I asked one of them how he was doing he just shook his head. "Wrecked" he answered. We paused at Burns Canyon only long enough for JC to sip some hot coffee before disappearing back onto the trail and into the wild, our headlamps lighting the way. We talked casually as we carried on, enjoying the tranquility of the midnight wilderness. JC told me that his girlfriend, who lives in Modesto, was proud of him for even having the courage to sign up for this race. He was grateful for her support, and he said that he had "promised her a buckle", meaning that he was going to do whatever it took to earn himself a finisher's belt buckle. We plodded along the gentle terrain for a while before the trail began a gradual incline up the side of the mountain and became littered with rocks. The more rugged terrain forced us to slow our pace as we climbed around the sharp, loose rocks. Through the constant chirping of crickets, there was not a sound to be heard except for our footsteps and the occasional dog bark from houses near the base of the mountain, several thousand feet below. A clicking sound in the distance shook me from my focus. It was the sound of trekking poles making contact with the ground behind us. When I looked back, sure enough, a headlamp was quickly closing in on us. As it got closer, JC and I stepped to the side of the trail to let the runner through. "Hey, how's it going?" I asked as the man approached. No response. When his face emerged in the beam of my headlamp, he looked like he had just seen a ghost. He had a look of panic in his eyes, and he passed by us frantically along the rocks with the help of his trekking poles, not even acknowledging our presence. As we crested the top of the hill and made our way down the descent, the first rays of sunshine began lighting up the sky behind us. The morning sky quickly filled with vibrant color as we ran down the switchbacks towards the next aid station. By the time we reached the checkpoint at the base of Sugarloaf Mountain, mile seventy, the sun had risen, and Eligia and Sheny were at the aid station awaiting our arrival. JC took a seat near a battery powered space heater, trying to warm up as Eligia and Sheny brought him food and fresh clothing. A few minutes later, Edith emerged from the crowd and greeted us. She was waiting for Violeta to arrive and was preparing for her journey of pacing her to the finish line. Following closely behind Edith were JC's friends Alex, Nelson, and Gus. Alex was also running the 100 miler and Gus and Nelson had been taking turns pacing him since mile fifty-two. I introduced myself and we chatted as I sipped some insta-coffee and JC chowed down on an order of McDonald's pancakes, compliments of Edith. My watch read 6:49 AM when we checked out of the aid station and began the five mile, 3,000 foot climb to the summit of Sugarloaf Mountain. I admired the beautiful scenery as we made our way up the trail, running when capable, but mostly hiking. Here's a little fun fact about Sugarloaf Mountain; there are a lot of false summits. There were at least two instances where I thought that we were most definitely approaching the summit, only to see another distant peak further in front of us. There was nothing to do but keep moving. The course descended the same route that it climbed and several runners were making their way down as we trekked to the turnaround at the summit. About a mile from the top, a man wearing a white skirt and sandals flew by us down the mountain as we moved to the side of the trail. It took a moment to register, but I soon realized it was the first time I had seen a Tarahumara runner in person. The Tarahumara are an ethnic group who reside in the the deep canyons of the state of Chihuahua in Mexico and are known internationally for their ability to run effortlessly for hours on end. The skirt the man was wearing was traditional Tarahumara clothing and his sandals, properly termed "huaraches", were the trademark footwear of Tarahumara runners. Many people wonder how these men can run so gracefully with just sandals on their feet, but the truth is they don't know any different. Up until today, I had only read about them and seeing them in person tearing up the mountain was incredibly exciting. A short time later, the summit finally came into view. We stood on the highest point of the course, elevation 9,952 feet, as we checked in with the volunteers before continuing. Several runners greeted JC as we pounded back down the mountain, giving him words of encouragement. About halfway down the mountain we saw Edith and Violeta making their way up and gave kudos to each other. As we neared the bottom, we were approaching mile eighty-one of the race. This is around the time where for most runners, their legs become useless for moving them forward and mental strength takes over. As we came around a corner, we saw a woman standing on the side of trail, crying. The climb up to Sugarloaf had crushed her spirit and she had little hopes of finishing. Sensing her despair, JC and I stopped to help. We couldn't offer physical assistance or we risked getting disqualified, but in critical moments like this, words can be a powerful motivator. Ultrarunners will often provide psychological support to another runner in times of dire need and sometimes later in the race, that runner will return the favor. Team work is crucial, and sometimes hearing the right words of encouragement at the right times can be all a runner needs to keep from quitting. After giving her a quick pep talk, we continued down the trail and soon the aid station was upon us. To my delight, Sheny and Eligia really rose to the occasion and went to work on JC and Alex as soon as we arrived, changing their socks, soaking their feet in ice water, and providing snacks and drinks. I gobbled down watermelon, pickles, chips, and all kinds of goodies from the aid station while JC and Alex sat down and regrouped. I sat down nearby and took a good look at JC. He was eighty-two miles into his first 100 mile race and even though I knew he was exhausted he looked completely fresh. It was my first time pacing someone and it was his first time running 100 miles. It was uncharted territory for both of us, but I was determined to do whatever it took to get him to the finish line. I would be lying if I said that I didn't feel a little pressure. As a first time pacer, I didn't completely know what to expect before the race. It is not uncommon for runners to have at least one major meltdown during a 100 miler. If JC were to fall apart, it would be up to me to convince him that yes, he could go on. And what would happen if I couldn't get him moving again? Would I turn into the alter ego and start yelling at him to show him tough love? Would I have to restore a sense of hope in him that he lost after so many soul crushing miles? I knew that if JC didn't finish, I would be mostly to blame. If his journey came to an abrupt end, the questions would forever linger in my mind. Did I not push him hard enough? Or did I push him too hard to the point where he broke down? I was hoping for the best but prepared for the worst. Seeing him at mile eighty-two in good spirit was a huge relief for me but I knew that our journey was not over yet. JC and Alex were counting on Sheny, Eligia, Gus, Nelson and I, and it was up to us make sure they made it to the finish. We would either succeed or fail as a team.
We departed the aid station at 11:46 AM and began making our to the next aid station at the base of Bear Mountain, five and a half miles away. After throwing down some pretty fast miles during the descent, we rolled into the aid station at Bear Mountain, mile eighty-seven, feeling strong. After checking in with a volunteer, JC calmly informed me that he was falling asleep on the trail a few miles back while we were running. I was shocked but not particularly surprised. He had been running since 8:00 AM the morning prior with virtually no rest. Despite his drowsiness, he looked focused and determined and my concerns about whether or not I could get him to the finish line were beginning to slowly melt away. He was doing an amazing job, but I reminded myself that we still had some distance to go and I needed to be prepared for anything. The race wasn't over until he crossed the finish line. I wondered how Edith, Violeta, Alex, Gus, and Nelson were doing. We hadn't heard anything from them so we assumed they were surviving. Once we left the aid station, we picked up the single track trail shortly down the road and began the ascent up Bear Mountain. The climb was moderate compared to Sugarloaf and JC glided along the rolling hills and up the inclines with me following closely behind. After rolling through the Skyline aid station at mile ninety, we ran swiftly down a graded fire road that offered sweeping views of Big Bear Valley. The beautiful mountain scenery was a nice distraction, but this section was very exposed and the afternoon sun was beating down on us. At the bottom of the hill at mile ninety-five, a couple of guys had parked their pickup truck and were providing ice to runners. As JC popped some ice cubes into his mouth and I threw some down the back of my shirt, we prepared ourselves mentally for the final climb of the course. I knew it was going to be a doozy, but I didn't completely know what was in store for us until we talked with the two guys in the pickup. They advised us that the final aid station was at the top of the hill. Unfortunately, between us and the aid station was a two-mile, 1,500 foot climb. I didn't realize how challenging this climb was going to be until we were making our way up at a snail's pace, barely able to move forward. We exchanged few words along the way except for me giving JC occasional words of encouragement and him thanking me for stopping him from sliding backwards down the hill a couple of times. About halfway up, we decided to stop for a few minutes and sit on a rock to gather our senses. "You know I can't carry you right? That's against the rules" I said. Although JC was on the brink passing out, he got a kick out of my weak attempt at humor and we soon pressed on, step by step towards the next aid station. Just when we thought our bodies couldn't contend with one more step of this monster of a climb, we heard the sounds of aid station volunteers cheering runners on and waiving them in to the aid station. The aid station at the top of the hill was just another two switchbacks up the mountain and when we arrived, the volunteers greeted us with enthusiasm and were incredibly accommodating.
The final four and a half miles from the last aid station were run with a new mindset. My concern had completely vanished, and I knew that JC was going to make it. About a mile down from the aid station, he revealed to me something I didn't know; rather than showing support, a lot of people in the running community told him that he would not be able to finish. They told him it couldn't be done and that it would simply be too much for him. I was appalled at the lack of support that he received and told him the only reason why people were doubting him was because deep down, they were unsatisfied with who they were as individuals. I told him that when he crossed the finish line in just a few miles, he was going to be a changed man from this day going forward. Knowing that he was more capable than he ever imagined was going to change his whole outlook on life. Finishing a 100 mile race was going to be a life changing experience for him. The last mile was run with pure joy and emotion. We left the trail and ran down the paved street through a residential area towards the Village. The last hundred yards to the finish line were lined with spectators and I slowed to a walk during the last fifty feet and watched JC burst through the finish line. We immediately embraced in a hug and people crowded around him shouting his name out and giving him high-fives. He crossed the finish line at 6:00 PM in thirty-four hours and six seconds, beating the cutoff time by two hours. Alex, Nelson, and Gus finished shortly after and Sheny and Eligia rushed over to us and congratulated both JC and Alex on their amazing accomplishments. Unfortunately, Violeta wasn't so lucky. She had dropped out at mile eighty-two after twisting her ankle multiple times on Sugarloaf Mountain, but was still in good spirit. Eighty-two miles was an incredible accomplishment and Edith did a great job of pacing her and giving her pep talks when things got ugly. She gave it hell. We knew how tough Violeta was and she was determined to come back next year and finish. After the awards ceremony, we congregated at Sonora Cantina for a celebration dinner before heading back home. This day was really for the runners, but it was an experience that I will never forget. Sheny, Eligia, Gus, Nelson and I had all worked as a team, but in the end, it's the runner who finishes the race. I was incredibly proud of both of them and I knew that their lives would be forever changed. The next morning when I asked JC how he was feeling, he thanked me and said "it was hard but we did it". More like YOU did it, JC. I was just along for the ride. A fun and wild ride, if I might add!
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