The people do it for me! My Mammoth 200 experience was made through the people. From the outside you might be forgiven for thinking that ultra running is a completely singular and selfish sport however none of my ultras are ever done on my own and it seems the further the distance the bigger the support network.
This time my team was Alex, Lisa and their three-year-old daughter Isabella, my first time having a 3 year old along for the experience. They had agreed to come along for the adventure of crewing a 200 miler, perhaps without fully appreciating quite what they had signed up for! Crewing one of these races is an endurance event in itself: driving from checkpoint to checkpoint, cooking food, keeping track of me through the day and night and somehow knowing what I need when I’m no longer capable of making sensible decisions for myself. Alex quickly became chief chef and logistics manager, Lisa would later become unexpected pacer and Isabella took on perhaps the most important role of all: chief cheerleader and glitter applicator. Knowing those three were waiting for me further down the trail became one of the things that carried me through Mammoth.
With a civilised start time of 9am on Friday October 2nd, this left just a small amount of time for race nerves to take hold. As always those nerves dissipate in the first mile and are quickly forgotten altogether. The route heads up out of the village of Mammoth Lakes and winds its way up some single track MTB trails before the real ascent of Mammoth mountain begins. The dust was like nothing I’d experienced before, I’ve had the infamous Tahoe 200 lung but this was so much worse, by the time I reached the summit I was already suffering with a hacking cough which would progressively get worse over the next few days resulting in losing my voice at one point and coughing up a load of phlegm throughout the race.
The ascent up Mammoth was long and made tough with the altitude, it wasn’t overly steep or technical for the most part, not unlike the climbs I had done in my training but going from 8,000ft to 11,000ft was rough! Rougher than I expected, breathing became a chore, combined with the dust became near impossible at points and it wasn’t long before I was vomiting, at only 18 miles in I knew I was in for a wild ride from that side of things.
The first crew access checkpoint was at CRC at mile 24 and I was met with the loudest of cheers from Alex, Lisa and especially Isabella, a great lift for my spirits which was duly needed. The volunteers at all the aid stations are absolutely wonderful and will bend over backwards to help you but having your own crew that have your favourite drinks & snacks on hand and your bag of clothes and a place to sleep in the back of the car is just pure gold!
I had heard the following section around Convict Lake was stunning and in my biggest of goals I had dreamed of getting there for sunset but it was well into the night before I reached Convict Lake, there was a small out and back section here so it was fun to see the front runners come flying past on their return journey and to say hi to many familiar faces still making their way towards the turnaround, including my dear friend Leah, who nearly went straight past me in the dark not recognising my bright head lamp!
I made it into Watterson Summit at 67 miles before sunrise and headed out for the exposed climb up to Sawmill Meadow as the sun rose, and it rose quickly! This section became one of the hottest sections of the race for me made even hotter over the 14 mile section that included 3,500ft climbing. I was pretty cooked when I reached the checkpoint at mile 82, witnessed a high number of runners dropping here and I took some time to re-energise and re-focus; consciously setting my mind to only think about getting to the next checkpoint not how far was actually left to go.
The next 40 miles disappeared into the familiar rythm of a 200 mile race; heat, climbing, eating, drinking & catching some sleep when I could. Alex meanwhile had apparently decided that crewing meant operating a roadside restaurant appearing at Crater Mountain with a delicious sausage and egg muffin along with some hashbrowns, with Isabella armed with glitter and full of cheers, and Lisa making sure I had my pack refilled and got some sunscreen on.
I left Lee Vining feeling pretty decent but I didn’t eat and drink much on the next section, and I got to Walker Lake looking and acting like death warmed up and needed to sit down; upon sitting down I felt dizzy and nauseous and a volunteer helped me come back to life. I can’t recall her name but she saved me, feeding me fried rice and cups of broth, keeping at me until I had consumed enough calories that I suddenly leapt back into action and was ready to hit the road again. It was a stark reminder that no matter how many of these races you have done, it is still so easy to neglect the basics when you are tired and simply focused on moving forward. But it was also a reminder of something I have learned time and time again in 200 milers: however terrible you feel in one moment, it doesn’t mean you are going to feel that way forever. There is almost always a way back. Sometimes the solution is remarkably simple: eat, drink, rest, reset and keep moving.
This next section was like crossing the moon, with sharp jagged rocks and volcanic debris making every step hard earned. Gaiters are a must here! The mountain was HOT, and there was little relief on the exposed descent towards Mono Lake. By the time I reached the only water crossing of the race, just before Lee Vining at 138 miles, it literally felt like heaven. I stopped to wet my face and arms, wash off the poison oak I’d managed to get tangled in and simply enjoy the cool water running over my feet and give a big wave to the live stream camera that was set up here 😉
I managed 90 minutes of sleep at the next checkpoint, Grant Lake, the 162 mile mark of the race. I had explained to Alex how terrible that last section was and he sorted me out promptly with 2 drinks of LMNT, which tasted horrendous but actually really sorted me out, offered me a Ketone which I had never tried before but when he mentioned 100mg of caffeine I knocked it back without another thought (it also tasted horrendous!) but it worked and I hit the road. The sign of an A-Team crew is coming up with solutions when problems arise!
After a simply stunning yet brutal section of Aspen trees with a 2,300ft climb over only 4 miles followed up with even more stunning views of June Basin I caught up with an old friend, Walter Handloser on the descent into Rush Creek. We hiked the next 3.5 mile section to June Mountain together, it was nice to pass the miles with a friendly face. A slight confusion of checkpoint addresses meant Alex and Isabella were waiting for me at June Lake instead of June Mountain which although was a 10 mile section on foot was only a 5 minute drive so they arrived promptly whilst I had wolfed down a chicken burger at the aid station. With my belly already full I also managed to knock back the meat pie Alex had conjured up for me after finding out the local (New Zealand style) meat pie shop was closed and I as I am known in my inner circle as the pie lady a solution had to be found, which it was!
It was a long hot climb out of June Mountain in the heat of the day, traversing a ski slope before the descent around June Lake Village and the lake. I love a mountain helicopter but I was becoming rather irritated in the heat of the day with multiple helicopters continually buzzing overhead transporting equipment backwards and forwards. Amazing how annoyed one can get with the simplest of things when you are extremely tired and hot!
Arriving into June Lake at the 184 mile mark was fun! Leah, my friend, had not been able to complete the race and her and her crew arrived with Alex and added a whole new buzz of excitement, with 4 women buzzing around Alex; loud and excited it was a shock to the senses that’s for sure. I got glitter reapplied, sunscreen sprayed everywhere, my belly full of fruit smoothie deliciousness and ham & cheese crepe and sent on my way! With only 34 miles left to go it was hard not to start thinking of the finish line, so close yet so far still!
It was dark when I reached Upper Deadman at 197 miles but here I had a surprise, Lisa was going to join me for the next 10 mile section! Company! My heart soared, I had spent the majority of the race alone, in my own thoughts and the knowledge that someone was going to be with me, although my legs still needed to do the miles, having someone to take the mental load away from me of thinking and focussing was such a relief I could have cried.
This was it! Even though there was one more checkpoint at the summit of Mammoth mountain the next time I would see my crew would be at the finish line!!! The climb up in the dark was long, steep, hard and started to get really cold. Cara, Leah’s sister had joined me for this section and we thought we could see the last checkpoint as we climbed the mountain but then the checkpoint would disappear and the moon was in such a weird location that it looked like there was an archway with the moon sitting just below the archway to the checkpoint and then it would all move as we traversed the switchbacks and I started to panic that we were headed completely the wrong way. It is so easy to lose your grip with reality and logic when you are entering your 4th night without any proper sleep.
I was back in the same place I had started on Friday morning, yet somehow I wasn’t quite the same person who had left it. 200 miles has a way of revealing yourself to yourself, stripping away all the noise until there is nowhere to hide. You see yourself at your strongest and your weakest, sometimes within moments of each other. You discover what you are capable of, but also where your limits are, how you respond when things don’t go to plan and just how deep you can dig when every part of you wants the struggle to be over. The subtle effects of that are difficult to describe. I don’t think you cross the finish line suddenly transformed or with some profound new understanding of life. It’s quieter than that. Something shifts. A little more confidence in yourself, a little more perspective, another layer of resilience earned through all those miles. Mammoth wasn’t the race I had imagined it would be. I had dreamed of something much faster and had set myself goals I didn’t come close to achieving. But perhaps that’s another thing 200 miles teaches you; success isn’t always found in the time on the clock. Sometimes it’s simply in continuing to move forward when the race you planned has long since disappeared.
And 94 hours and 51 minutes after I started, dusty, exhausted and very ready to stop moving, I crossed that finish line immensely proud of the person who had kept going. But as much as 200 miles reveals something about yourself, Mammoth reminded me once again that none of this is ever really done alone. Every cheer, every meal, every volunteer who filled a bottle, every mile shared and every familiar face waiting at an aid station had carried me a little further around that course. And when you have a three-year-old girl watching you throughout it all, cheering you on, applying your glitter and looking up to you, somehow quitting becomes that little bit harder too. You want her to see that things can be really, really hard and that you can still keep going.
The people do it for me. They always have.
