Last year, this area was completely covered in snow, so the first 50km or so felt like a brand-new experience. I had just passed the escarpment with crowds full of energetic cheers and bells, and now entered a floral downhill flow, quiet and serene. The comedown was breathtaking and one of my favourite moments of the race. 

I’ve arrived at Duncan Canyon, approximately 40 kilometres into the race; the first time seeing my crew or my lifeline for the day. I spend my day breaking the race up into parts - the part before I get to see my crew, when I see my crew, and post seeing my crew. It's always a reset seeing people you love, acting as a reminder of the most important things in life and an opportunity to ground. No matter the state I am in, each time I see their faces brings a smile to mine. 

Departing Robinson Flat aid station at about 50 kilometres, the sun is fiery, with temperatures rising up to the high 30’s. Cooling becomes essential as you attempt to outwit nature and beat the heat, which serves to be an ongoing battle over most of the day.

During races, I often get into a headspace where I am metaphorically no longer present and channelled completely inwards. People surround me, yet I feel in absolute solitude. My body has the reigns, dancing through the trail, while my mind is in a different universe.

I have reached the river crossing, my pacer in tow. You can see a volunteer on the other side - several designated at each rock or drop to keep you safe. The epitome of what racing is, a community effort. The river was cool and inviting, another one of my favourite parts of the race. Only 35 kilometres left, yet fatigue has fully set in. At this point in the race, the strongest part of me, my mind, has fully taken over - confident it has the best chance at me reaching the top ten. 

As the heat of the sun fades and darkness sets in I began feeling like a cheetah hunting its prey. With 30 kilometres left, I was tunnel visioned with nothing stopping me. This is an experience I’ve never had before, which is exciting, experiencing new parts of me I’ve never tapped into before.

After most long-distance efforts I find myself in tears. Not because of the pain, or the joy of finishing. But rather, gratitude. The most uncomfortable experiences in my life have always brought me to my happiest points. Yin and yang. And for that, I am truly grateful. 

My body stiff and uncomfortable, my mind exhausted for taking over for my body when it had nothing left. An ultramarathon can drip every last bit of your energy, leaving you depleted at the finish line - that's when you know you've done it right.