Long story, short: I surprised myself by completing the West Virginia Trilogy last month, my first ever three-day race, consisting of a 50K on Friday, a 50 miler on Saturday, and a half-marathon on Sunday. Hooray for doing hard things and pushing up against the edges of your perceived physical limits.

Long story:
On a recent Saturday in October, I was eight hours in on my 13 hour day moving along 50 miles of trails in the Manongahela National Forest, in and around Spruce Knob, West Virginia, and I found myself being entertained by an unexpected mantra: “Legs are shot. Send back-ups. Trail is nonexistent in places. Send replacement.” I imagined sending this text to my friend, Beth, who was cheering me on from Damascus, where she and countless others are still recovering from the destruction wrought by Hurricane Helene. It was day two of the West Virginia Trilogy and I imagined Beth’s laughter at receiving my text. I had prepared a number of other mantras for the 50 mile day, but somehow that one resonated with me. Knowing there were no back-up legs and no replacement trail coming any time soon, I found endless humor in knowing I’m getting myself through these 50 miles, albeit with some much appreciated support from volunteers at aid stations along the way.

The West Virginia Triology is a three day race directed by Adam Casseday, Dan Lehmann, and Kat Weyland, with base camp at Experience Learning Center, an outdoor education center whose mission is to deliver high-quality outdoor programming as a tool to develop competence, confidence, and community for all people of all ages. Eric and I have experienced the Experience Learning Center in a few different forms over the years, from his ride at GRUSK, Gravel Ride up Spruce Knob, to our coaching a teen running camp a few years ago, to my participation in last year’s Trilogy 50k.

The full Trilogy consists of a 50km race on Friday, 50 miles on Saturday, and half-marathon on Sunday, with a combined elevation gain of more than 14,000 feet. Runners have the option of signing up for the whole Trilogy or individual races. After last year’s 50k, I was grateful to not be getting up to run 50 miles the next morning and looked forward to sleeping in my bed that night. Since then, the race kept calling to me. I wondered if I could do the whole weekend. After months of thinking about signing up, I finally mentioned the idea to Eric, thinking he would be the voice of reason; he would be the one to tell me it’s too much. Not so. Surprisingly, Eric thought that as long as I got good sleep each night, I could do it. With his vote of confidence, I signed up in August before registration fees increased.

2010, the race’s inaugural year, saw a field of 12 runners attempt the whole Trilogy, with half of them, 4 men and 2 women, finishing. 2015 had a whopping 39 finishers, the most of any year. This year’s race began with 33 runners who opted for the whole enchilada. My 22-year-old daughter, Catherine, decided to join me for the weekend with plans to ride her bike, volunteer at the 50 miler, and run in the 5k race on Sunday. Gathering under the beautiful yurt on Thursday evening for the pre-race briefing, you could sense the anticipation and excitement as Triology veterans and newbies, like myself, came together for dinner, hopeful for what the next three days would hold. Catherine and I happened to sit down to dinner with a fellow who was there, not for the Trilogy, but to witness the auora borealis. He instructed us where and what time to look for the Northern Lights. Post dinner, we were eager to get to bed as it was getting increasingly colder standing around outside, but we did stop and search for the Northern Lights. Quite to our surprise, our phones found them before we did. A three second exposure produced a beautiful glow of the lights which were not nearly as perceptible by the human eye.

After a very chilly night’s sleep in our tent, the 50k began at 7 am on Friday. The race start was one of the most relaxed I’ve ever experienced. Bridget Donaldson and I were in the middle of taking a selfie at the start when we heard Dan Lehmann calmly call out, “Ready, set, go.” Bridget took off like a shot, her speed captured in the blur of the photo. We proceeded out to the road and around some fields, before returning to the start, where you can ditch any excess clothing you don’t think you’ll need. As I came back around and saw Catherine, I tossed my mittens towards her, regretting that choice a couple hours later when it had not quite warmed up enough yet to have bare hands. Pulling the sleeves down over my hands sufficed until it warmed up enough later in the morning. I remember being surprised how the hours just clicked by. Before I knew it, I was halfway through the race.

The mind plays such an important role in setting expectations for endeavors. Knowing this was just day one of three, my mind was prepared for the additional effort that would be coming the next two days. I was surprised how well I felt at the finish, ready to relax in the sun, chat with girlfriends, eat, drink, and rest up for the next day’s 50 miles. My time (7 hours 16 minutes) for the 50k was within one minute of last year’s time. Not bad. How would my body react to putting in 50 more miles the next day?

Day 2 of the Trilogy began with a trip to the bathhouse where the power, that had gone out on Friday, was still out, but the gas powered heater was working. Preparations by the light of our headlamps seemed fitting. A quick breakfast of oatmeal and peanut butter, and we were off again. I was curious to see how the day would unfold.

About 30 minutes into day 2, I realized I had locked the car and not told Catherine where the car key was (in my coat pocket in the yurt near the start). I knew the majority of Catherine’s supplies were in the tent, but our extra food was in the car and who knows what else of her supplies. I was surprised to find my mind occupied by trying to figure out how to convey to Catherine where the key was in my absence. I recalled that I’d see race director, Adam, at the first aid station atop the mountain about seven miles in. What a relief it was to tell tell Adam where my jacket was and ask him to relay the message to Catherine and then get back to thinking about whatever the mind thinks about as you’re moving through space for the whole live long day.

The next many miles wound along the mountaintop and then down, down, down to Judy Springs before heading alongside the creek and beginning a never-ending climb up the mountain. It was a beautiful day; the miles were clipping along smoothly. Before long, I was running along the ridge on the six mile section that leads down to White’s Run aid station, the halfway point in the race. I knew that the race returned and ran back along this same six mile section and, before long, I saw the front runners coming towards me. We cheered each other on and kept moving. Running along the single track trail towards White’s Run was pretty exhilarating, even though I knew I’d be hiking back up that steep trail before long.

That’s something I love about these mountain ultras – the variability in moving experience – running and flowing along a grassy ridgeline, then dancing or picking my way over single-track, technical terrain for some miles, and then hiking with purpose for many miles. Throw in some chilly creek crossings and you’ve got yourself some good times, which may turn into low times further down the trail, but like life, you try to stay present and be where your feet are.

About 40 miles in, as I was approaching Judy Springs for the second time that day, I had one of those low moments; one of those “questioning your life’s choices” moments when it began to feel hard, when another 10 miles sounded like a bit much. I noticed those thoughts and kept moving, kept hiking with purpose and intentionality.

That’s another thing I love about these ultras – the highs and lows that will invariably come and go, while you keep making relentless forward progress, observing the chatter in your mind, and choosing to listen to some of its good advice and hoping you recognize the little devil when it’s attempting to catch a ride on your shoulder, shaking it off and inviting in more helpful cheerleaders to support you along the way.

Before long, I found myself at the Allegheny Mountain Trail aid station, about 46 miles in and just 4 miles from the finish. I recall thinking it odd that there would be an aid station just 4 miles from the finish, but I was grateful when I arrived there and saw Catherine for the first time that day. When I arrive at aid stations, I tend to have a game plan so I can get in and out efficiently. I gave Catherine a quick hug, asked her if she had found the car key (she had!), refilled my water bottles, got myself a little caffeinated Coke for the home stretch, and got out of there quickly. Sunset was approaching and I wasn’t sure what to expect in these last few miles, though I had heard that some fence crossings were in our future. Climbing up and over fences in the last couple of miles was definitely a new experience on tired legs, but a welcome one. I knew I was close now. Arriving at Cardiac Hill, I knew I was nearly there; I was going to finish this 50 mile day. I had begun listening to the music on my playlist during the last few hours of the race and I’m always surprised when the perfect song arises at just the right time. On that steep climb up Cardiac Hill in the last mile and a half of the race, the song, “Starting Over” by Chris Stapleton began playing. As I was hiking with purpose up that climb, he sang these words:

“This might not be an easy time
There’s rivers to cross and hills to climb
Some days we might fall apart
And some nights might feel cold and dark.

But nobody wins afraid of losing
And the hard roads are the ones worth choosing
Some days we’ll look back and smile
And know it was worth every mile.?

Emotion washed over me, a beautiful moment. Coming out of the woods, across the field, and along the final stretch of road to the finish, I felt grateful for what my body had done for me today. I crossed the finish line, reveled in the moment, and then began my preparations for the next day, managing the basics: shower, dinner, quick conversation with Eric, sleep in a cozy tent alongside my 22-year old daughter who had joined me on this adventure.

Sunday morning’s half marathon began at 9 am, a gentle start to the final day of the race weekend. I was surprised to find that I had some good running left in my legs. The race proceeded along smoothly and with that final climb up Cardiac Hill and the final run through the field and along the road into the finish, I had done it. I stepped across the finish line, firmly planted my foot on the ground, and stopped my watch. Done. I’m a Trilogy finisher.

It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon and before long, we enjoyed lunch on the deck of the yurt and an awards ceremony to celebrate the half marathon and Trilogy finishers, of which there were 23. The sense of camaraderie with all the participants was palpable, the shared experience of having had the courage to try something that hard, the resolve to keep going, the grace to face the challenges, and the humility to respect father time and the inevitable changes our bodies will face. I was the fourth place woman in the Trilogy and the first in my new age group, 50 -59 year olds.

Catherine drove us home that afternoon, while I took a very restful nap. By the time I got home, my right achilles was really talking to me. I didn’t know it could feel crunchy! In the past four weeks, I have been reminded that, with age, injuries may tend to come more frequently and last longer, and that recovery needs to be taken seriously. I’ve been taking good care of myself, resting, icing, stretching, strength training, and running when I like, while doing other fun things, like indoor rock climbing yesterday.

When I experienced a hip flexor injury in early 2021, I wasn’t able to run for several months and my mental well-being took a nosedive. This time, I’ve been easier on myself. I’ve relaxed into listening to my body, encouraging it to recover, and hoping that I’ll have plenty of mountain climbs and descents still in me. My kids have been talking about the Winter Arc recently. With the current period of rest and recovery, I’m excited to lean into the winter as a time to reflect on and set new goals, imagine the possibiilties for 2025, and then begin to put into motion a game plan for getting there. The process is the journey is the reward is life!