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Among ultra-runners, our struggles, successes, failures, and renewed efforts on the trails become lessons and models for how we build our stories of pain, suffering, and personal growth into our life narratives.
I became a runner in junior high. By the time I was 30, the longest distance I had ever run was about 6 miles. After transitioning to hiking, and ultimately running, on the trails in Utah, I believed that I had invented trail running.
When I met my husband, my ultra-fate was sealed. He is the first person with whom I had ever shared the trail who had no attachments about finishing before dark, finishing today, or even knowing how long he would run when he left the trailhead. He had a collection of buckles from countless ultra races, despite never having started a 5K. He was--and is--one of the strangest people I have ever met. I loved him immediately.
He ran my first hundred miler with me in 2017. I finished it, but not without learning some important lessons about armpit chafing in the middle of the night at Grafton Cemetery, outside of Zion National Park.
He supported me in completing my first 200-miler in 2018, when I circumnavigated Lake Tahoe in ~94 hours. The following year, I aimed to complete the "Triple Crown of 200s." However, that goal was lost when I DNF'd (Did Not Finish) the Tahoe 200 related to issues with sleep deprivation and a snowstorm in the Sierras.
There's nothing that will put a fire inside you like a DNF. I set my sights on the 2020 Triple Crown of 200s. I was confident that I could sustain my physical fitness and that I had the experience to apply successful strategies and tactics to the 2020 races.
2020 rolled around, and the world was in my hands. This was going to be my year. And it would be my year, though not how I planned. Just as the pandemic was gaining momentum in the US, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My focus switched from thriving to surviving. As my journey was diverted, I will divert your attention to my breast cancer journey. This diagnosis toppled my vision and threatened all my beliefs about my personal identity.
For delving into my cancer journey, click here.
If you understand that my success as an ultra-runner derives from the value of coaching (I married my running coach!), please pause and reflect on your own dreams. Where might you go with a little coaching?! With your highest ideal in mind, please contact me so I can help you envision how to achieve your dreams!
Sincerely,
Jill
My final push up American Fork Twin West, over 11,000 feet, Spring 2020. Photo: Phil Lowry
Inspiration Point, Zion National Park, 2017.
Photo: A Kind Stranger
Posing somewhere past mile 100 with Haley, who paced me for about 50 miles of the 2018 Tahoe 200.
Photo: Alex, the dentist from California, who also finished the race.
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A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
- LAO TZU
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