End of 2014

What. A. Season.

From screaming down a mountain being chased by a mountain goat, never seeing so many hills in my life in a "death race", thinking birds were singing "cheese curds" in a 100 miler race, being insanely lost in race that had trails that I grew up on, trying to do 8 minute miles for 50 miles straight in 90 degree weather, lying in a middle of a field consumed by pain after my second 100 miler, running more than 50 miles in a 50k race that the "Evil Dead" was filmed in, and running through 50mph winds in a 24 hour race that I had no business being at.  I wouldn't trade 2014 for anything.

I know I don't reveal much on who I really am, and what got me here. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out.   I never ran an ultra before last year,I did, however, have an obsession with exploring on trails, and using running as a type of therapy. The first time I ran a 100K, was on my own in Virginia. I had no idea what a "100K" was at the time, but I couldn't stop running. My ex had just left for deployment, and my enlistment was expiring. I knew my life was changing in ways that I wasn't ready for, so I ran all day and night and fixed all my problems. Typical Forrest Gump moment, filled with tears and anger, but ended with confidence and understanding.

Fast forward to 2011.. I had become obsessed with Tough Mudders and crossfit, and still had no understanding of Ultras.  I met so many close friends during this time and it was fun to actually train for something specific. However, I did not have the confidence to compete in anything. One of my friends had told me about Bridger Ridge in Montana, and kept advising me that I need to leave OCRs and realize that there are other things that suit the athlete that I really am. When I crossed the finish line, I knew exactly what he was talking about. I didn't do another OCR and signed up for Georgia Death Race.

I had no idea how to train for ultras, so I figured that I probably just needed to run more. My trainer was about to have a heart attack, as the ultras I was choosing still required an enormous amount of strength and endurance. However, keeping my endurance was key, so out workouts went to suffer fests which were all lower body based. I trained using different nutrition techniques, trained for time, trained for miles, trained on different terrains, hill repeats daily, rain, snow, sleet, 90 degree weather.. I was out there. I had absolutely no excuses ever.  Somehow, I got "good".

Every race taught me something about myself:

Bridger: This sport is exactly what I need to be doing

GDR: Remain confident and have faith in your skills no matter what obstacle lies ahead of you.

Kettle: Taught me exactly the mistakes and the right things I was doing with my running. It also opened a whole new world of running friends.

DWD: You can keep running with every type of stomach issue and podium.

Voyageur: Don't be cocky with heat, mother nature will knock you down quick.

Sawtooth: One foot in front of the other and absolute focus will get you the finish line.

Barkley: Keeping faith and your head on straight when everything is going wrong, will get you to the finish line.

WTM: Closest race to my breaking point, sometimes you need to dig deeper than you thought you could to finish. Sometimes you need to rely on others to get you to the finish line.

I really wanted to do a WTM recap, but I thought it would be more appropriate to include it in my "End of Year" recap instead. I came to Vegas and welcomed by my family right away. I instantly felt more relaxed than I did at home panicking about this. All the feelings of why I love this community so much came flooding back, and I was so happy that I decided to sign up this year. If my closest friends weren't there, this race would not have been the same at all.

Running the first lap with no obstacles was my favorite lap, which shows that I am not an OCR racer. I loved running up and flying down the hills. The second lap was the worst lap. It was a really trial and error of figuring out how to do the obstacles, and basically taking every penalty. The third lap I ran through perfectly, however, I ended it with breaking my tailbone on the 40ft cliff jump. I could still run, so game was still on. I'm going to be honest though.. that really hurt. I was playing it off as much as I could, but it's all I felt for the rest of the race.

As I switched into my wetsuit for "Night Ops", I made an epic mistake. I didn't put my timing chip back on. I realized this about 1.5 miles in my lap, and had to turn around to flag down an official. He assured me that I was ok, and that I had to go to the timing booth and they knew to add in my lap. As I got to the timing booth, no one knew what I was talking about, until I had to wait for the RD to come to let the timing booth know that I did call it in. 45 minutes later.. I was able to run again. I was feeling a little frustrated going back out there, and then the sandstorm came. So I was pissed off, frustrated, tired, hurting, and now blowing around in 50mph winds. I was so beyond emotions at that point, that I just started laughing and joking around with other runners. I would ask runner's how they were feeling, and they would give me positive answers. I would reply with "Awesome, but I hate my life right now, but I'm good". My weird sense of humor kind of perked up my spirits a bit.

I finished a couple laps at night, and right before sunrise, I became violently cold. I couldn't remember my name and I couldn't get my body to stop shaking uncontrollably. I went into the Med Tent, which only had a half hour limit. I wouldn't let the doctors come near me, as I didn't want to risk a DQ. I had heard that over 800 people had quit at that point, and I didn't know how strict the medical tent was being. I downed about 10 cups of hot water, and started eating as much as I could to get my body working. My crew and my close WTM friends came to the tent to help out as much as they could. Justin, PJ, and Crump all came to try to motivate me as much as they could to finish this thing. The whole time I told them that I didn't know if I wanted to go back out there, and I noticed that no one was really arguing with me. Justin would just nod and say "Ok, but you have to go back out there soon". I kept starting at the clock, and when it hit 25 minutes, I got up and went back out.  I think they knew that I really wasn't going to quit, but just letting my mind talk out loud. Quitting.. just will never happen.

As I was finishing the last couple of laps before time ran out, my crew and Mudder family stayed with me the whole time. Cheering me on, making sure I was going to pass out from hypothermia, and just being the best cheerleaders I could ask for. Keith had finished his 50 miles and stayed with me for parts of the course. His humor and mine are very similar, and seeing him lifted my spirits tremendously. As I finished the last loop, PJ had advised me to not go out again, even though I had 4 minutes to spare. It wasn't worth the possible DQ or injury, and as much as I obsessed about that after the race, I knew it was the right decision. I ended the race at 65 miles in 23:56.

This race was beyond the most mentally draining thing I've ever done.  However, it was a challenge I needed, because it made me go beyond my limits. It also made me vulnerable to other people's help. I also was so proud of so many people that day. Three people in particular: Keith, Joe, and Gina. Both stayed out there until their goals were met. It was awesome seeing both of them on the course, working their asses off to do what they said they were going to do. Their performances truly stuck in my head to keep going, as I had a goal to meet too. I saw them both dig deep and do some epic stuff that they have never done before. Joe, who literally can not swim and has an epic fear of water, still managed to stay out the whole time and win his age group. I was more proud of them than my own performance that day.

I left that race very beat up, very disappointed yet very proud, and beyond overwhelmed when I turned on my phone. Seeing the support and reading the messages from people tracking the race, made my crew start laughing when I said "Man, am I glad I didn't quit". I never dreamed that by me following my dreams, would inspire people to want to reach out of their boundaries as well. It's really cool to see the "ripple effect".

The best moments of WTM:

Constantly running into Leeroy Jenkins and having the most random conversations, with him mentioning "Rogue Miami" every other word.

Being with Crump, Justin, PJ, and Keith in the Pit Area. So many random laughs and just pure joy of being able to be around each other. I had a blast with every single one of them.

My two great friends who came with me. I'm pretty sure Andy and Melissa had the ultimate challenge: keeping up with me for 25 hours and dealing with so many elements of the race. I went through a sandstorm, but they had to sit in it for the whole night as well. It meant everything to me that they wanted to be a part of this, and I will never be able to thank them enough. They also ran a half marathon the day after on 0 hours of sleep. Pure Awe.

Seeing Maria and Sean at the end of every lap with hugs and encouragement. It was honestly what I looked forward to the most at every lap.

Always running into Mark Holloway on the course and somehow always laughing together in our misery. He really lifted my spirits at crucial moments, great running partner.

Apparently I fell in love on Mt. Everest.. :)

Seeing Ken, Matty, Jonathan, my WI mudders, Jared, Amelia, Allison, Jeff, Nick, Amanda, Carrie, Thailyr, Jen, Nate, Kevin, Laurence, Wes, Mathew, Justin, Josh,  MJ, Devon, Andrew, Brian, Lucas, etc etc. The list just doesn't stop. All these people are people I shared laughs and have talked to a lot during the year. I truly couldn't of shared this course with greater people.

So, that was my "Rookie Year". The trails saved my life this year as I lost someone extremely important to me. I say that I was out on the trails to "train", but to be honest, I was out there more to escape. I went through some very dark days this year, with an inability to cope. When I felt myself suffocating, I would put on my running shoes and just go. I shed many tears, smiles, laughs, and anger on those trails, but I always left them feeling like I was able to go back into my life. These races are a fun way to see how your training and mental grit are with extreme physical challenges, but the races are more of a reward for me. I am truly happy on the race course, with other runners who all seem to share similar personalities. I'm truly myself and at home on these trails, and I'm so blessed to have found my second family on them as well.

Another thing that I am most proud of, is my refusal to quit. I may not get podium and I may not even come close to the goals I had in my head. I've been very blessed with an injury free year, and not having any legit excuses to throw in the towel. Yes, I've been extremely frustrated in a race, and quitting does go through my head at every race. I've learned to truly know how to embrace "the suck" and how to cope with things when they don't go as planned.  This has really leaked into my personal life as well. I've developed this new sense of confidence and mentality to pick my battles wisely. Will a DNF be in my future? Statistics say so. But not if I can help it.

I'm excited to start running with bigger goals next year. I'm finding myself in a much better place, and I find myself being on the trails because I just purely love it. My family has been the most supportive people in my life. Having my brothers crew, my mom waiting at the finish lines, and my phone being blown up by 100s of texts from my grandmother and aunt at every race.. its just so incredible. My mom also started running and swimming competitively, my aunt went back to her Ironmans, and my brother bought his first pair of trail shoes, all because they said they saw me cross finish lines that they thought were impossible to cross. I'm anxious and ready for the new year, and plan on having another great racing season :)

Barkley Fall Classic "50k" (not a 50k)

When I was in High School, I came across this article in a sports magazine about ultra running.  The article mentioned the Barkley Marathons, and I didn't believe the author at all. I was not a runner in high school. I dreaded the mile test during PE. So, I couldn't even wrap my head around cross country running.  When I lived in Virginia, I came across an article on the internet about the Barkley.  I was in my early twenties and was a pretty content 5Ker. As I read the article, I became fascinated by the secretive and fascinating nature of this race.

 As I somehow became an ultra runner in the past two years, I have always kept the Barkley Marathons on a huge pedestal.  Trail and ultra running have grown in popularity over the years, as has the Barkley Marathon. The more I was finding more information on this race, the more obsessed and horrified I became.  One day, I was goofing around on Ultrasignup, and wondered what it would do if I searched for Barkley. I about fell over when I saw the search results. The Barkley Fall Classic? I instantly called Matty, and made him go on the site to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

I received an email about two weeks before Sawtooth, stating that I have been accepted into the BFC and had to decide RIGHT NOW if I was going to go. As I instantly said "Oh Hell Yes", I realized that it was also two weeks after Sawtooth100. I  grew hesitant as I was fully aware that the BFC may be just as tough as Sawtooth. Everyone knows that I hate when people tell me that I'm "doing too much", but even this was a little crazy to me. I had promised many fellow athletes, my trainer, and my gyms that I would put the running shoes away and start preparing for WTM. However, as I laid in bed after Sawtooth, dying from muscle spasms, I knew that there really wasn't any question. I had to do BFC.

Have you ever tried to recover, train, and taper at the same time? Don't.  I didn't even try to run in the two weeks that I had, and just stuck with biking. I foam rolled and laid in epsom salt/ice baths for hours every day. I really didn't taper at all for this race, but I wasn't killing myself with training either. I just made sure to keep the legs moving and prayed every day for no injuries.

I arrived to Tennessee early Friday afternoon, and immediately when to Frozen Head State Park. It was like meeting a celebrity. Only it wasn't a person.. it was woods and mountains. Matty still hasn't arrived yet, so I went down to the packet pickup, and met Steve Durbin (co director). He instantly made me feel more relaxed by his calm and welcoming personality. I saw Laz in the corner of my eye taking pictures with other runners. I had to pinch myself. I felt like I was in a dream/nightmare come true.  I just couldn't (still can't) believe that I was in Wartburg, TN doing 1/5 of my dream race.

I drove back to the hotel to pick up Matty.  I finally met him in the lobby, and couldn't stop smiling. There was no one else in this world who I wanted to share this experience with. As he got settled in, we went back to the packet pickup. We talked to many other runners and to Steve about the course map. Steve went over the places where it was easy to get lost at, and really gave us a detailed description on how to read the map.  Even though, 1/4 of his description were complete lies, the overall summary was accurate. Matty and I had to decided to stay and watch the documentary, so as were walking to grab food, Laz came across the corner. I'm pretty sure Matty was laughing at me, because I suddenly couldn't breathe. Suddenly, I found words and introduced myself.

"Ohhh, Frayah!" "I have a great day planned for you tomorrow".

Two things were going through my head at this point.

1. Does Laz know who I am? If so, fuck. If not, damn it.

2. God, I sounded like an idiot.

We went to dinner and I met up with John Sharp who ran the GDR with me.  After talking to him for awhile, we met a lot of other runners and all of the Legion members. I was so overwhelmed, but my excitement level was through the roof. I wanted to know everything about everyone who was doing this race, and I couldn't stop smiling. We watched the documentary ( I will share that experience in another blog) and finally got back to the hotel to start packing and panicking.

We set the alarms for 3 in the morning, which allowed me a 4 hour sleep. We devoured some pancakes and eggs at the American Legion and headed down to Frozen Head.  Matty and I discussed that we would run the race together, mainly because of the 100 miler I had just done the week before. My legs were nowhere near ready and I needed some pressure off of me. The conch shell blew, which gave me shivers. This.was.really.happening.

We were finally off.  Instantly, I took off my thermal gear and headlamp. The temperature was perfect and I knew it was just going to get warmer.  I was trying to keep up with Matty, but I have never started a race out that fast .I knew I had to do my own race, as I have learned my lesson before with going too fast. So, I held back and I didn't see him again until Rat Jaw. The first 8 miles were all up hill.  I tried to run when I could, but it was literally seconds and then back to climbing.  I got to the aid station about 8 miles in, and I realized I was the second girl.  I knew I had a lot of downhill coming, which is a strength. However, I was now lost.  I somehow lost the trail and only saw a huge hole from where a tree fell over.  A couple people had caught up to me, and no one knew what to do. I decided to just do some tree climbing, because I knew the trail was on the other side. IT HAD TO BE. As sticks were digging into my legs, I finally found the trail again, with legs looking like I just got repeatedly stabbed.

I came to a jeep road, which I would be following for the next 5-6 miles. I have a really hard time transitioning to trail to gravel roads.  I was frustrated at this point.  I couldn't believe I was feeling so defeated and I wasn't even halfway done.  My hips were screaming at me, and I kept thinking on how stupid I am for doing this race two weeks after Sawtooth.  I finally started getting passed, and dropped down to third place at the turnaround. I was 18 miles in at this point, and just going even slower. John caught up to me and asked if I was injured.  I told him that my ass hurt and I was so exhausted. He mentioned that my leg was looking really weird, which meant it was overcompensating for my hip. ( I had a very bad hip injury 3 years ago).  I just getting passed left and right now, and I just didn't care anymore. I knew I had to keep moving forward, because the race hadn't even begun.

I finally reached Rat Jaw, and Matty and some other runners were there waiting to go up it. Matty led the way, and it was the most absurd experience of my life.  The briar patches were relentless. They were in my hair, stabbing my legs/arms, and I couldn't see ahead because it was all.. briar patches.  Not only was it all briar patches, it was also all uphill. Matty did a great job screaming out what was ahead between all his F bombs.  It got to the point where I didn't even feel being stabbed anymore. When we finally got out of the patches, we were completely lost.  There was about 9 of us running around, trying to find a trail.Some were crabbier than others, and Matty was doing very well with trying to just find the damn trail. We knew we were going in the right direction, but not being on a trail was out of my element. We rock climbed, crawled around,and went through about 5 more briar patches.  What Matty said was 10 minutes of being lost (2 hours), I finally saw a person 500 feet up yelling at us to come up by him. I realized he was on the right trail, and I almost died from relief.

We had to climb the tower to reach a checkpoint, and Matty and I just chilled on top for awhile to collect our thoughts. I was getting to the point of just wanting to get to finish. The worst part was that my watch was at 27 miles, and the check point was at 18. I felt pretty shitty.. kind of like how I feel around mile 90 in a 100 miler. My body was exhausted, my mind was screaming at me, but I was ready to go. I really enjoyed running with Matty at the next sections. He knew I was in a mood, so he just sang and had conversations with himself. This was randomly making me laugh, and my spirits were perking up. We finally reached the last section, and I had to change out of my compressions, because my legs felt like they were going to explode with them on. (FYI, first time wearing compression socks.. never again). I instantly felt so much better, and we were receiving a lot of encouragement from the spectators. Laz was also there, and we were able to chat with him for a bit. He told Matty that is was "all downhill from here" at the last section we had to complete. This made Matty excited to know that we were so close to the finish, and we set off.

Right away, we were lost. All we saw was a huge creek and no trail. Were we supposed to swim through the creek? We had no idea. We literally walked in circles for awhile, until we finally found the trail on the other side. As we finally got moving, we began to climb. I don't think we were realizing all the climbing we were doing, because we were talking a lot and just enjoying the course. I passed a runner who I met earlier on in the course, who was taking a nap on the side of the trail. I asked him if he was ok, and he told me that he knew he was going to finish, he was in no rush. For some reason, this gave me instant gratitude. He knew he had completed the challenge, and he was just appreciating his surroundings. Pretty cool.

Matty began to get cranky, as there was "no downhill from here" happening anytime soon. I was ahead of him, and would see the next climb, and would have to act like it wasn't a big deal to Matty. It was my turn to be the positive one, even though I was crying inside. These climbs were taking our breaths away, and it was hard to get a rhythm with our breathing. About 4 miles of climbing, Matty's back began to hurt, and we were out of water. We also saw some major climbs ahead as well. I just had to laugh. It was so beyond ridiculous, and seeing Matty so mad about being lied to from Laz, just made me chuckle. We ran into some hikers who gave us some water, and we really took our time to just get through the climbs. We were randomly bitching, laughing, and getting anxious to see the finish line.

As we finally got downhill, we began to fly. I finally got a second wind with my running, and wanted to keep it going until the finish line. We hit about a mile of road running, and finally saw the finish line. We received our medals, began laughing hysterically, hugged, and just passed out in the grass.

Matty: "Want to do that 4 more times?"
Frayah: "Shut up Matty"

This race really gave me a sense of humility. I entered this race knowing that it was going to be about a finish, and that was it.  And I was OK with that. We watched a documentary about the real Barkley Marathons the night before, and hearing Laz speak about what the race meant, really made me think about me as a runner. One thing that stuck out was when he said "Runners who have never DNFed have never truly tested their limits. You don't know what your limits are until you attempt to do something that you can't do".  This race opened my eyes to what I want my next season of racing to be about. Will I ever do the real Barkley? I really do hope so. Until that day, I'm still going to be attempting and completing epic shit :)

Sawtooth100

I miss you switchbacks..

I decided to sign up for Sawtooth about 3 days after I completed my first 100 miler at Kettle Moraine.  Sawtooth has been on my list for over a year now, as I had to drop out of the 50 miler last year due to strep.  I spent my whole summer training for this race.  I was on the trails every single day working on different aspects of my running.  I traveled all over on weekends to try to find technical terrains, and even went up to the Superior Hiking Trail twice to work on different sections of the course.  I spent atleast 10-16 hours a weekend on the trails, ran 300-400 mile months, and worked on getting my legs used to moving for long periods of time.  I worked on night running once a week, and also worked on running on completely worn out legs.  I took many learning lessons from Kettle Moraine and worked on perfecting my weaknesses all summer so I could stand a chance in this course.

As the time was coming closer for Sawtooth, a couple things began falling apart. My only pacer who I decided to have, backed out on me.  This was a blessing in disguise, as I finally had an excuse to go with my original decision, which was to have no pacers.  I also decided to only ask my brother to come up to help me out at the aid stations.  I didn't want a lot of people there.  As much as I loved all support I received from family and friends at my first 100, it really is not my style.  I always run by myself and really enjoy the alone time and solitude it brings.  I feel way more pressure and stress when I have an audience.  I'm not saying I will never have pacers in future races, but it is something I am extremely picky with.  I had also completed two 50 milers in July, and suffered from extreme stomach issues in both.  I was really worried something was going on, and I couldn't figure out what.  I spent most of August taming my miles down, but working on "little things".  I focused more on different running techniques, nutrition (I found tailwind.. thank you Lord Baby Jesus), and recovery.

The weekend finally arrived, and we left Friday morning to check in our hotel and make it to the race meeting.  I was surprisingly really calm.  I felt like I really wasn't thinking about what the next day was going to bring.  I had already mentally prepared myself and I knew I was ready to go, so I was tired of stressing about it.  We finally got to Two Harbors, and we spent a couple hours before the race meeting exploring Lake Superior.  I found this so peaceful and this huge sense of gratitude came over me. I was so excited to be able to do something like this, a top ten 100 miler.  It was just so surreal to me.

I spent the evening eating and going over my race plan about 593 times. My closest friends and family had all called me to wish me luck and I felt ready to go. I felt pretty tired the morning of the race, which concerned me. We had arrived pretty early before the race at the start, and that's when I realized my brothers had lost the race plan.  There was nothing I could do, but make a quick checklist for what I needed at the various aid stations. I basically just said, "fuck it, bring everything".  I don't like people waiting with me before the start, so they went off to the first aid station to explore the area for the bit (I wouldn't see them for 20 miles), and I waited by the line to start the day (and peed about 563 times).

The race started and I was stuck in a congo line for about 10 miles.  As much as I wanted to bolt out, I decided to stay in the middle of the pack and just relax. I was right behind Mallory (the first overall female) for the whole time in the congo line, and watching her footing helped me out tremendously. We reached the first aid station, and I stayed for about 2 seconds, and finally was able to run at my own pace. I caught up to Mallory, and we had great conversation for a little over a hour. I decided to pull back as I was no longer able to talk and run, so I knew I had to slow my pace down a little bit. That was the last time I saw Mallory :)

I reached Beaver Bay, and it was such an energy boost to see all the crews cheering everyone on. My brother filled me up with tailwind, water, and nuuns.  I left within 1 minute as I really didn't need much more help than that. As I was running the Silver Bay potion, I began to feel really really good. I received a lot of cheers from the guys and started to see my "crowd" of the same people who I would be passing and vice versa throughout the rest of the race. It was absolutely stunning too, but the climbs were brutal.  I passed a guy who had ran with me at a 50 miler at Devils Lake and heard him whisper to his friend, "That girl is seriously badass". This made me smile and he caught up to me, and we talked about that race and our goals for this one. I also ran into another girl at this portion, who I had also ran with a bit at another 50 miler I had done "Voyageur". We caught up with each other and she was giving me shit for losing my wheels at that race. I spent a lot of time laughing and getting to know some amazing runners during this portion, and had a lot of fun figuring out how to get down the "drainpipe". I had also taken a wrong turn during this section, Luckily, 4 runners followed me and realized that the trail didn't seem right. I had only lost about a half mile.

I finally reached Tettegouche, and was still feeling really good. My brother made sure my headlamp (Black Diamond) was good to go, filled me up with tailwind, and I changed into my Hokas.  It felt amazing to change shoes and I felt like I had just started running. This was my favorite portion to run. The trails were still really technical, but it was easy to just fly across and there were some flat portions. I started running with Brandon, a 21 year old, who was running his first 100. We had great conversation about our races, adventures, tailwind, headlamps, you name it.. we talked about it... especially if it was about beer.  This made this portion just fly by and he really pushed me to keep my pace. I lost him at the next aid station, which disappointed me, but he was definitely a highlight in the race for me.

As we reached County Road 6, It was pitch black out. I quickly changed into a tshirt and stuffed down a cupcake, and I was off again. I had to run down a hwy to get back on the trail for awhile, and one of the volunteers who I had met at Split Rock, was there with his truck.  He put his beamers on so I could see the marking and the trail. When I finally got to the trail, I told him how awesome he was, and he said that he was about to go home, but wanted to see how I was doing before he did. The volunteers in this course were just above and beyond.  I got a second wind after that, and just cruised through the technical trail at this section.  There was a runner about a half mile behind me, who stayed consistent with me the whole time. When we reached the next aid station, he complimented me on my night running skills. I told him that it wasn't even 11 yet, and I'm just trying to keep it up until it all goes to shit.  Which it did in the next portion.


I kept running forward, but I was getting moody. There was a group of runners behind me, chatting away, and I just ran silently.  They were even talking about races that I have done.. Kettle, Tough Mudders, etc etc, and I just didn't want to talk. I started going off the trail again due to some horrible tunnel vision, and they all stopped and brought me back. I asked them if they wanted to pass me, but they said I was keeping a good pace for them.  We made a deal that I would keep the pace, if they would keep a watch out for the trail markings.  I eventually pulled ahead, and I found myself completely alone for the rest of the night. I also started hallucinating like crazy. I was seeing orange tabby cats in the trees, trees were turning into people, and bats. (I dont think the bats were hallucinations).

I finally reached my ultimate low point when I tripped off a rock, and landed into a tree. As I landed on my shoulder, my knee banged into a rock. I sat there for a minute, and I looked up to the sky. This complete sense of serenity came over me as I saw shooting starts in the sky. I slowly got back up, realized I could still bend my knee, muttered a swear word of relief, and started moving forward. I reached Crosby, and became in much better spirits when I saw my brother. He was just so calm and welcoming. He gave me a huge hug and asked if I needed anything. I said.. "you just being here, was what I needed". He got a huge smile on his face, refilled my bottles, and said he would see me in the daylight. As I was leaving, he said "Frayah, you are seriously doing awesome, its just unreal". I got tears in my eyes, and started running again.

The race was kind of a blur for awhile, until I started seeing the sunrise. I remember hearing birds chirping, and becoming so relieved that I survived the nighttime portion. However, my quads were screaming at me, and I was becoming.. as I call it... "over it". I suddenly starting craving breakfast food, and praying that the next aid station would have bacon. As I reached Cramer Road, I almost started bawling my eyes out when they had bacon, pancakes, AND BROWNIES! I met another volunteer there who I just instantly loved. She was such a fireball and just had my laughing so hard. However, I just could not get myself to start running again. I dreaded every mile at this point. I was also surrounded by others who felt exactly how I did. I was walking with a guy for awhile, and he kept saying "I' think you are in second place or third place right now". I started laughing and said "thats great, until the herd of girls come and pass me". I just could not find myself to start running again.

I reached Temperance, and the same volunteer worker was there from Cramer Road. I asked her if she had advil, and took four.She gave me this worried look, and I told her that I just didn't care. I noticed everyone around me was feeling exactly how I was. I started keeping pace with a guy in front of me and he was randomly laughing at me, because I was suddenly getting a little "drink" from all the advil. I was laughing at the weirdest things and then uttering a swear word every other 30 seconds. He told me that he thought he saw a girl ahead of me drop out, and I said "I wish that made me feel something, but I just can't do anything about this mood right now". He started laughing and we both came into Sawbill in much better spirits. The aid station worked was there again and told me that Advil can give you a "drunk" effect. I told her that was the best decision I made all day.

I caught up to another guy and talked with him and his pacer for a few miles. He was also at Voyageur, so it was nice having a distraction with a real conversation. I was getting really stiff again, and I made a decision to just run as much as possible.  It actually felt much better on my knees to run, but it just sucked mentally. I told myself to suck it up and just run when the trail was able to let me. I started singing Taylor Swift songs, just to add a little more torture to myself, and all of a sudden, I passed the third place girl.  I just couldn't believe it. I was waiting for girls to start passing me, and I was positive the girls ahead of me had already finished.

I reached the final aid station, and my crew was waiting for me with all the gear. I whispered to my brother that I had just passed a girl, and that's when the aid station worker told me that I was in second. I told Dylan that he was going to have to pace me because we had to fly. I started my gps watch, and we started running our asses off. I swallowed the pain and started bolting out miles. I was finally running uphill and downhill again and just really concentrating on getting to the damn finish line. Dylan did very well with the trails and I was very impressed with his consistency.  It was exactly what I needed at the time to keep up my speed. When we reached the top of Moose Mountain, Dylan told me he could see the finish line and it was all downhill until then.  We finally got to the road, and he whispered to me "Frayah, you did fucking amazing, you only have a 1/2 mile left".  I ran to the finish line, crossed it, and started bawling my eyes out in my youngest brother's arms. This wave of pure exhausted emotion just overtook me, and that was the best feeling of a finish I have ever had.

I sat down for the first time in 30 hours, and it was disappointing that I was no longer craving a beer. I started feeling really shitty, and told one of the volunteers that I felt I was going to pass out. After getting checked out, I was fine after some sugar. I passed out in the middle of a field with a medic blanket, bottle of pedalyte, and a foam roller as a pillow.  The race director came over with my trophy and we talked awhile about the race and my training. He was the nicest and most humble guy I have ever met. I was actually really sad to leave all these people who made this day so epic for me.


This race truly tested me to no end.  I remember thinking at mile 50, that I may actually be over my head with this course. My head was constant with negative thoughts at times, but I just let it do its thing while I kept putting one foot in front of the other.  The runners never got a break. If we weren't climbing, we were decesending. If the course was flat, we were skipping off rocks, roots, and stumps. When I took the hard fall, my heart just started racing that I might be injured. I had my best friend's voice in my head at the time saying "Get up, keep moving, you gotta keep moving". When I crossed the finish line, and finally had enough strength to text my family and friends to let them know I had finished, I realized they already knew because they had been tracking me all day and night. The support I received and all the love was just beyond incredible. I also did have a lot of people doubting me in this race and I felt myself having to stick up to the word I hate despise the most.. DNF. I never once thought about anything but crossing the finish line.  There was a war in my head the whole time, but it was never an option. I worked my ass off for this race, practically spent every free minute by myself in the woods, but there was nothing else I would rather be doing. This race changed my life and I can not wait to return next year.