So many participants!

Thanks to a nagging right shoulder/neck pain from sleeping awkwardly, excacerbated by a forecast of unseasonably warm morning with a thunderstorm for Thanksgiving, I continued to delay signing up for any turkey trot until the Trophy Trot 5K ended up being the only option left that had not yet closed or sold out. I had not raced a 5K since early 2013 and rarely ever stop at that distance even in a casual run, so I hesitated; nevertheless, knowing I would run this day anyway and always enjoying being in the presence of other runners, after waking up unprompted with just enough time to register online and drive to the event and unable to go back to sleep, I committed, five minutes after which came a heavy rain followed by a lightning and thunder. “Too late now,” I said out loud before hurrying out of my apartment. I ran the Trophy Trot 10K three years previously, prior to their changing the distance likely to attract more participants, and remembered the course being hilly.

I don’t normally drink, but I can’t turn down a cold beer after a race. 😂

With more than 2,300 participants lining up, I put myself toward the front to avoid being jammed, which happened anyway. Many joggers and those who started fast just to stop thirty seconds later barricaded me, requiring me to maneuver around many and waste energy. I became nervous about how to pace myself in such a brief run and pushed slightly harder than I have recently from the first mile of incline. I maintained a consistent pace without too much fluctuation, with the exception of moving considerably faster in the final stretch. Had I foreseen the lengthy downhill in the final mile, I may have held back slightly the first two miles of rolling hills to save some for a stronger finish. I completed the course officially in 27:00.3, with my COROS reading 3.17 miles. I have run numerous significantly faster 5K splits in much longer distances, but I knew going in I was not at my peak speed shape, especially coming off a trail ultra, and had to factor in the 97% humidity and substantial hills, without which I would have run a minute or two faster. This led me to consider not ruling out 5Ks completely in the future so that I could be more versatile.

I don’t think I’ll be hungry for a while.

Following a quick hot bath and shower, I proceeded to Golden Corral for a Thanksgiving buffet, as has been a tradition for many years. Grateful to God for all that He has given me. Happy Thanksgiving!

PC: Last Light Productions

Since 2014, I have managed to squeeze in at least one marathon or ultramarathon every year. Intent on continuing this streak, I urgently sought closeby ultras throughout the remainder of 2024 and came across a local event in Washington, North Carolina, a two-hour drive from my residence in Raleigh I would do the morning of. In honor of Goose Creek State Park’s 50-year anniversary, TRAILthirty, on November 9, 2024, hosted an inaugural Goose Greek Trail Run & Hike that included a 50K on a non-technical trail. This would be my first-ever legitimate, though not technically, trail ultra, which made me uneasy about the navigation and the inevitably more challenging surfaces than I have become accustomed to. Following many prayers, I registered a couple of nights prior, a few hours before the online registration deadline.

PC: Last Light Productions

We ran a lot of the final loop together!

The course went around a roughly eight-mile loop four times, and I took off without music to remove any potential distraction until I became confident in my ability to interpret the patterns of signs and flags. With countless roots hiding under fall leaves, which I ended up kicking 40-50 times, and other characteristics of trails, I felt my calves burning early on. (A half marathon participant informed me a gentleman tripped and dislocated his shoulder and I was the only one she knew who never fell.) After slow running for the first 11 miles, I started mixing in walking, although I never allowed a full mile of walking at any point. Psychologically, I struggled the most in the third loop, as I ran almost the entirety alone in the woods, albeit I enjoyed praying to God observing His awesome creation in the quiet. Nearing the halfway point of the final loop, on the Palmetto Boardwalk, I ran into a young military man running his first ultra and suffering from an injury. He decided to keep up with me as long as he could, and we ended up conversing and covering most of the rest of the race together, with another first-time ultrarunner joining briefly toward the end. This interaction mentally revived me and led me to run much more than I planned, including the last 2.5 miles nonstop, feeling stronger than I did in the previous loop and reminding me how much of a mental game ultramarathons tend to be. With just over half a mile to go, I pushed forward alone with all the energy I had left, which became my fastest mile on the day. I crossed the finish line officially in 6:51:23.66 at 31.45 miles on my COROS, likely meaning slightly farther in reality. Ultra #13, still challenging, humbling, and memorable.

Seeing race morning forecast in the low 40s, I decided to return to the Danville Half Marathon in the titular city of Virginia on October 12, 2024, for the third time in the past four years. I have not been running at a fast pace all summer due to the insufferable heat and humidity, so, albeit typically in these conditions my body has been able to comfortably pull off a sub-two-hour 13.1, I did not know what to expect here.

The race commenced slightly warmer than I hoped and anticipated, as I spent the first minute or so anxiously reconnecting my earphones to my iPhone, and like I told many people pre-race the temperature drastically shot up not even halfway through. The norm now, I spotted a couple of inconsiderate smokers early on next to the course full of runners, followed by a group of potheads nonchalantly doing their thing as they walked toward the way I was running and whom every runner I spoke to noticed, which both irritated and confused me. While continuously conversing with God for help, I maintained a strong pace consistently for the first 7.5-8 miles, but I did not feel confident that I could continue at this speed without exerting too much and being relegated to walking later on; thus, approaching mile 9, I made a conscious decision to considerably slow my pace. I stopped looking at my COROS as frequently to avoid being demoralized, and I no longer believed sub-two hours was within reach. My only focus the last five miles became steadily running without entertaining walking in my mind, made more challenging by the boredom of my running a large portion alone without other participants nearby. Entering the final turn to the homestretch and checking my watch, I was shocked to read I still had two minutes left to two hours, but the end still appeared too far out for me to gauge the pace required. With a minute remaining, I sprinted and crossed the finish line officially in 1:59:55.2, with the volunteer celebrating this triumph that could not have been cut any closer; the gun time read 1:59:59.85  and I stopped my watch at 1:59:59.62. Perplexingly, even though my legs felt fine as usual, I dealt with unprecedented pain in both shoulders for a few hours post-race, to the point even driving turned difficult. This marked my 60th half marathon and the fastest one out of three on this course, so how could I not be content and grateful?

PC: Fit & Able

With heavy rain hour after hour leading up to my second participation in the Pups & Pastries 6.5-Miler on September 14, 2024, in my neighborhood of Cary, North Carolina, inevitably causing suffocating humidity with the temperature resting significantly higher this time in the mid-to-high-70s, I accurately predicted I would not be running anywhere near as fast on this cross-country-like course that understandably had formed sections of mud. Furthermore, as petty as this sounds, at the packet pickup, a volunteer asked what color shirt I preferred, and when I said green, ironically or coincidentally I was the only runner given a leftover from previous years, the same one I received two years ago; when I asked to switch, she replied, once taken out, she cannot put it back, which frustrated me because I had not even touched the shirt and virtually every other participant who checked in before and after and requested green was wearing or holding the new design. I quickly shook it off to remove any negative energy.

PC: Fit & Able

I would be running the same wide loop three times, followed by a smaller loop and a massive climb to conclude the race. I have run on this exact course two times prior, and likely thanks to the ideal weather, I did not notice the hills to the extent I did here, already shooting my heart rate up by the second big loop. In the third, I added moments of power-hiking, seeing how slowly I was running anyway and how much more keeping running was sapping my endurance, then I returned to my standard pace once the hills subsided. In the final climb of nearly half a mile straight, I briefly fast-walked a couple of times and crossed the finish pushing as hard as I could, in 1:00:52.61, over two minutes slower than my past experience here but sufficient for second place in my age group of 35-39. No chance I would have even considered walking on these hills, albeit momentarily, had the race taken place even 10 degrees cooler, especially in such a short distance. I cannot wait to start running in the cold again.

PC: Fit & Able

Unseasonably cool in the morning for a few days for this time of year and eager to immerse myself in the running community again, I, just before the online registration deadline, signed up for the 1/4 marathon option at the Summer’s Done in my neighborhood of Cary, North Carolina, on August 24, 2024. I was initially leaning toward the half marathon, but I have not run at what I consider to be a fast pace most of the summer with the real-feel temperature regularly sitting at well over 100 degrees and knew on a semi-technical course like this I could not finish in a satisfactory time. I had my playlist prepared, but reading the final announcement email that strongly discouraged the use of headphones, I ditched music again.

The event understandably chose staggered starts to avoid hindering people not involved from using the park as well. Albeit humid, the 57-degree start felt like a gift in the middle of August, and I took off. I would run the same loop twice, and having studied the elevation chart, I knew I would face challenging hills somewhere. As I approached the trail portion, a volunteer waved one hand at me and one hand at the driver not yet visible to me to his right, and I must have misinterpreted and kept going because he meant for me to stop, which would have snapped my flow and made the rest of the run less pleasant. I apologized, and he said, “Cars are always first,” to which I thought, “Umm, no, runners are always first, and you are supposed to tell the driver to stop.” Following, I was met with two major hills, the second of which very steep but thankfully only momentarily, on the trail filled with roots sprayed red. When I faced these hills the second time, my breathing felt heavier, and I kept my head down as I ran up to avoid eye contact with the giant and becoming discouraged. I would have moved about more conservatively for a longer distance, but as soon as I conquered the last hill, I increased my pace substantially, crossing the finish officially in 1:00:59.85, sufficient for 1st place in my age group of 35-39, at what was supposed to be 6.55 miles but according to my COROS 6.84 miles. Knowing the course was not USATF-certified, I figured I would be running slightly more, the only downside being the official results page showing my average mile pace significantly slower than reality. Regardless, I was elated to race again after a few months of hiatus.

Traveling to Korea May 5-18, 2024, for the first time in a year and a half to see family and knowing this meant I would take a couple of weeks off running, I decided to return to New Bern, North Carolina, the day before departure to squeeze in a half marathon at the Neuse River Bridge Run to justify the rest. As usual, I signed up the night before and made my extensive drive from Raleigh to the race site the morning of. I ran this exact course two years back and performed strongly, except the temperature would be up about twenty degrees, into the 70s, this time; thus, I did not have in mind to run fast.

PC: Neuse River Bridge Run

Nevertheless, I may have overpaced the first four and a half miles of up and down and up and down the beautiful bridge portion, not fully visible due to the heavy fog, for the 100% humidity I did not anticipate. As I was running back up the bridge 2.5 miles in, I had already begun sweating profusely and feeling the suffocation. By 6 miles, I knew I was staring at another embarrassing time in the half marathon. Closer to 8 or 9 miles, I decided to include here and there a short walking break of mostly no more than a tenth of a mile then resume running. With the course stretching exactly a quarter of a mile from 13.1 on my COROS, my last push became longer than I predicted, but I still visualized running as hard as I could all the way to the finish line. This plan was thwarted when about a mile to go I began to feel nauseous, vomiting slightly, then extensively a couple of minutes later with a few people looking and my saying, “I apologize for that,” then extensively again ten seconds later as I picked up the pace. The final two tenths of a mile, while holding my stomach and hoping dearly I would not embarrass myself in front of hundreds of spectators, I garnered whatever energy I had left and ran as fast as I could, passing many and crossing the finish line in 2:11:27.42, with my watch reading 13.35 miles. Continuing to feel nauseous for some time, I was not able to truly enjoy the post-race festivities. With the temperature rapidly rising, already hitting the 90s multiple days, I understand I likely will not have a chance to redeem myself or run fast in any distance for several months, but never say never.

Following the December ultramarathon in Arizona that crippled me for nearly a week, I perhaps foolishly returned to slow running in merely three weeks. Whether from a lack of recovery or the new shoes, maybe a combination of the two, most of my runs did not feel as comfortable or smooth. Going for a jog prior to being on my feet for several hours to attend then volunteer at my church on Good Friday, I was hesitant to sign up for the inaugural Only Fools Run Half Marathon in Greensboro, North Carolina, the following morning that I had been contemplating for days, not to mention I was unsure if I should be doing much during Holy Week, but still set my alarm to 5:10 AM in case I would spontaneously. To no one’s surprise looking at my history, waking up feeling refreshed, I immediately turned on my computer and registered online, ate leftover bread from Olive Garden, took a shower, and headed out all within half an hour for a 1.5-hour drive from Raleigh.

I expected to start the run in the lower 40s, but the race became unpleasantly warm and sunny, unlike the forecast up until the night before, toward the latter miles. I have become accustomed to running (and walking) without music, to the point oftentimes wearing earphones irritates me, and decided to do so here when the race website asked participants to have at least one ear unoccupied, which made me more in tune with nature and most importantly focused on asking God to help me practically every mile. Mesmerized by the numerous trees blossoming, I expressed to my Father my amazement at His creation (though I sneezed uncontrollably and my eyes swelled up post-race). Having reviewed the elevation chart of these rolling hills that start primarily down then back up, with nearly the last four miles being mostly uphill, I cautiously watched my pace and made an effort to run slowly earlier on to prevent inadvertently exhausting my legs too soon; I remained vigorous for the first 9.5 miles. Once I arrived at the series of final climbs, I strategically walked fast going up then ran faster once the course flattened out or went back down. Normally, I would not consider a 2:04:34.39 finish a decent performance, but factoring in the layout of the course with 531 feet of elevation gain and so many climbs the final few miles, hotter-than-expected morning, and how worn out I have been in recent runs, I am content with how strong I felt, as my body does not feel any fatigue, minus the loss of appetite. Now to shift my focus back to Easter Sunday!

For many years since my first-ever 100(+)-mile finish in 2017, I yearned to enter another multi-day race, except this time, rather than stopping at a targeted distance, going until the end; in case I did so, I consistently raced once or twice monthly to stay ready. I hoped to travel to Korea to reunite with family to conclude 2023, but due to the preposterous flight cost, I postponed the trip, leaving this time that would inevitably be filled with loneliness open. After countless prayers and back-and-forths, convinced there would be no better time, I registered for a 48-hour event at Aravaipa Running’s Across the Years, starting on December 28, 2023, in Phoenix, Arizona. Shortly after, a faith mentor I had been unable to get ahold of reached out to me, and I gave him a call, who prayed over this race with me and boosted my confidence that I did not inadvertently disobey God in an attempt to gratify my earthly desire. I had never been so nervous and stressed leading up to a race, understanding full well based on experience the hours and hours of pain cave that awaited me; consequently, I managed 30 minutes of sleep the night before, 10 hours in the three days prior. At first irritated, I quickly changed the perspective that achieving my objective in spite of this disadvantage would only add to my testimony of God’s protection.

Early on! PC: Aravaipa Running

Around 80 miles in? PC: Aravaipa Running

For a race this long, I needed to break down the giant into small stages, the first of which being lightly running the first 10 miles without walking. I did so mostly for the first half marathon, after which I forced myself to incorporate walking. Going around a ~1.41-mile loop, switching directions every four hours, runners often run into each other and share stories of their whys, and as I told some, I may have been the only person without an awe-inspiring story. Still early on, I was connected to a young jolly lady participating in the 72-hour event with whom I covered likely nearly twenty miles, and knowing that she could have gone faster without me, I both thanked and apologized to her, to which she replied she finds joy in helping others, even if that affects her own performance. (Spoiler alert: She achieved a huge personal best anyway.) I felt an initial sign of hurt and fatigue around 40 miles, but speaking to her took my mind off the discomfort. I could feel the blisters form and pop on my feet and my toenails dance, but I ignored them as long as they did not become debilitating. Following the completion of lap 36, 50.7 miles, I took my first sitting break of 15-20 minutes in the resting tent. When I stood back up and went outside in the dark, I experienced arguably the scariest moment of my life. With zero anticipation, my body went into shock and violently shook uncontrollably, freezing my facial expression while drawing a weird noise, and I sprinted across to the aid station tent to take shelter, where I continued to shiver. Considering I burned 16,010 calories and realistically consumed less than 1,000 in return, this should not have been a surprise. “What is happening to me?” I panicked to a volunteer who was visibly alarmed and warned me I had to drink hot water and put on all of the clothes that I brought. When I stepped back outside, the shaking remained, so I returned and patiently drank multiple cups of hot water, after which, despite the sore legs, I ran out as fast as I could for my body to rapidly produce heat. Upon arriving at my rented tent on the other side, I put on an additional pair of pants as well as a shirt and a hoody under the jacket I was already wearing, covering most of my face. The symptom chilled out, and I was so grateful to be able to continue that I forgot about pain for the next ten miles. I repeatedly thanked and praised God for saving me and told Him what a testimony this would be if I could reach my goal. Throughout the remainder of the race, I had to be kept bundled up in the presence of the minutest cold air, as any wind that touched my face would make me tremble; had I not brought a hoody, really for my plane ride, or had a way of covering my neck and face, I do not know how I could have carried on.

Sent this to my parents about an hour before the start.

Sent this to my parents after I concluded my race.

Around 70 miles, my legs gave out, and I was no longer able to even walk at a semi-regular pace. Because I knew how much I had slowed down, I tried to make up time by taking as few breaks as possible. I finished lap 52, 73.2 miles (around 74 miles on my COROS), just past the 24-hour mark. Words cannot express how demoralizing slowing down to this extent becomes with so much time and ideally distance left. As I kept moving in an awkard form to minimize pain, distracting myself as long as the hurt did not significantly exacerbate, I got reconnected to another kind and humble woman who too was struggling. Seeing that we were walking equally slowly, we decided to proceed together until I reached 100 miles. We exchanged stories, but both of us were too exhausted to speak much. She needed sleep and we parted ways after my lap 69, 97.2 miles, when I took another short break; we did run into each other again at my homestretch, where I had an opportunity to express my gratitude toward her sharing so much of my most difficult mileage with me. When I resumed, with two more laps to 100 miles, I ambitiously planned to log in four loops consecutively, which seemed feasible after the first but not so after the second based on the excruciating pain in my right leg and hip conquering the slightest incline that felt like Mount Everest. The lengthy asphalt portions of the course and the smallest hills I initially did not even notice later became insufferable. For this reason, after I reached 100 miles officially in 38:21:14.679 (my COROS hit 100 miles in 37:42:41.74), I decided to take a nap to see if I could recover sufficiently to add a couple of laps. As I lied down, I gave myself the possibility that the run is over. When I stood back up, not knowing how much I slept if at all, I felt rejuvenated just enough to keep going, and here, I told myself I would do two more laps and call it. My race came to an end after 73 laps and 102.831 miles, while my COROS reads 104.22 miles, in 41:48:46.189. Albeit I had more time, seeing how my body functioned, I could not justify resuming; taking another lengthy break to potentially be able to continue at an even slower pace would not have added that much to my mileage anyway. In silent darkness, I rang the PR bell to signify that I just ran my farthest distance to date.

PC: Paul Nielsen

Preparing for this race, I not only prayed for a successful run itself but also regarding the complexity of logistics and that my COROS would charge and last the entire event. I expressed to Jesus that I wanted to start focusing my life on something that has more impact on others instead of constantly searching for ways to fulfill my own selfish ambitions. After that shivering scare, I promised God that, once I finished this successfully, I would not participate in another multi-day race. I do not believe the event could have gone any more perfectly for me. I wanted to test my limits in my prime and at my peak shape now that I had so much more experience under my belt since my first 100+ miles, and I do not think I could have done or do any more than I did here. I will continue to run, for certain, but the days of putting my body under such prolonged stress and pain have come to a close. I thank and praise God for giving me the ability to embark on such a unique journey and His angels who guided me along the way. I cannot wait to witness what my Father has in store for me for 2024. Happy New Year!

My legs and feet post-race. I could barely move or put any weight.

PC: Cesar Rincon Foto

For my 100th race, I planned, at least hoped, to participate in a major run that would make me feel I accomplished something big to commemorate this milestone, but I also did not want to miss out on a turkey trot just to have this materialize. Like last year, I waited until the last minute to sign up for the Skinny Turkey 10K in my city of Raleigh to commence Thanksgiving 2023.

Kylie was the first woman to finish!

The ideal 39-degree start undoubtedly helped support me through the ceaseless rolling hills, some moderate and some steep, that kicked off with a climb, and I carried on cautiously for the first half of the race to not inadvertently blow myself out. I maintained a consistent pace and never slowed down drastically at any point for more than several seconds, and I reminded myself to continue to pray and thank Jesus, as I acknowledge I cannot enjoy any of my running endeavors, or anything for that matter, without His help and leading me. Knowing the finish nigh following the final half a mile of steep climbing, I pushed myself to the fullest that had me close to vomiting upon conquering the giant hill, and I crossed the finish timing mats in 53:36.957, with my COROS reading 6.30 miles with an elevation gain of 456 feet and an unexpected third place out of 13 in my age group of 30-34.

In 100 races, I have covered approximately 1,556.5 miles, which includes 11 ultras, 5 marathons, 1 21-miler, 57 half marathon(+)s, 5 8-10-milers, 17 10K(+)s, and 4 5Ks. Here is to many more, God willing! Happy Thanksgiving!

Not comfortable sitting through the back-to-back-to-back embarrassing half marathon results, I at the last minute chose to register for and return to the Mayberry Half Marathon on November 11, 2023, that forecast an ideal temperature in the low 40s, requiring me once again to wake up at 4:00 AM to prepare and drive for over two hours to Mount Airy. I could vaguely justify my running so poorly recently, blaming the ginormous hills, suffocating humidity, and nonstop heavy rain, but here, like I told a 10K participant waiting in line for a porta potty, I had no excuse with the chillier weather and a relatively flat course, which oddly added unnecessary pressure.

I inadvertently opened up the first mile at 7:58, thanks to a downhill start, followed by a more realistic and cautious pace of mid-8:00 for the next nine miles. I continued to pray to God for help and to run with me, and three miles in, based on how strong I felt, I was confident I had this race in the bag while simultaneously anxious about suddenly tiring. Three quarters of the race in, my legs abruply felt heavier trying to maintain the same pace and I knew slowing down would be inevitable, and the rapid drop in speed occurred in the last mile and a half, perhaps due to occasional hills that I did not even notice at the beginning but felt like brief mountains on the way back. Regardless, I continued to run as hard as my body let me and crossed the finish with a gun time of 1:55:05.102. Going from three of my worst half marathons ever in my last three races to my top half marathon performance since a couple of years back at this exact event, I felt relieved having proved to myself that I could still comfortably run a sub-two-hour 13.1, boosting my confidence. As usual, with the conclusion of the race itself, the social butterfly in me came out, and I wrapped up my trip congratulating and exchanging stories with many runners and their families. Happy Veterans Day!