Ode to Laz - A Last (Wo)man Standing Event

In this story, I flashback to when I was introduced to the beautiful concept of backyard ultras. Prior to the inaugural Ode to Laz race in 2019, I didn’t know anything about “backyards”, let alone who Big was, or why you needed a Golden Ticket to play in his.

It was my crazy, ultra-loving, limit-seeking friend, Mike Fisher (aka Fish) who planted the Backyard Ultra seed in my head... I had no idea at the time it was about to set me on a path toward something “BIG”(s).

For a little backstory on this crazy man: Fish is one of those guys you meet and instantly love and you don’t know why. Maybe it’s the shit eating grin that’s permanently plastered on this face. Or the way he gets “it” when you are talking about “stuff’ that matters in life. When you share an epic adventure with him, he will pause, and you can tell by looking into his eyes that he is diving deep into his memory castle, reminiscing about the experiences he’s had, places he’s been, and reliving those life changing moments. Those moments that you didn’t realize would become memories that change you forever, and make you see, smell, taste, and appreciate life in a whole new way.

Anyway, Fish’s energy is contagious. It lights you up and sparks curiosity of your own. I credit Fish with planting all sorts of crazy ideas in my head over the years. He was running 50 milers when I was training for my first marathon. He then started crushing 100 miles, and I remember telling him he was completely nuts - that I would never even dream of doing something so insane. Even though I called him crazy, I envied his ability and aspired to be like him, one day.

Flash forward to 2019. I had two (successful) 100 mile races under my belt when Fish tells me about a “backyard ultra” that was coming to Michigan: the “Ode to Laz”. It was a simple format: Four point one six six six six six six...etc. miles. In one hour. How hard could it be? What’s the catch? Well, once you finish that 4.167 loop, you wait till the start of the next hour and repeat the exact same course, again. And again. And again… until you decide you have had enough. Or until you are the last man standing.

My initial reaction was “Ouf. That sounds boring. Snoozefest. No thanks.” I could not imagine who would want to run the SAME loop over and over?! That would get real old, REAL fast. But then, being the sucker for peer pressure that I am, on top of the FOMO that is also strong within me, I couldn’t resist. I signed up and looked at it as a fun opportunity to spend time with Fish and the other “Fast Guys” that I could never hang with on casual every day runs, let alone races. It would force them to slow down, and maybe, I could impress them? Maybe? ...Maybe, I could last longer? Who knew?! But I was curious to find out.

I spread the word among my other running buddies, convincing them it would be a “fun” way to get our weekend miles in together. So in addition to Fisher and I, Lavalle, Schmitty, Terminator (Rick), Celia, Pooh Bear (Ron), and Blanzy all signed up to run in circles at that inaugural race. And those I couldn’t convince to register, I talked into “crewing”.

Scoping out the Ode

The race is held at Holly Recreation State Park, less than an hour from home. Over the years I’d run the Wilderness trail maybe a couple times, but had never done the “Lakeshore Trail”, which is the southern loop, and the course for the Ode. So Sunday before race day, Andrew and I went to scope it out. We ran both trails just because, and after, decided it would be nice to cool off in the lake. We helped ourselves to a dip by trespassing across the “beach” of the private park cabins, not realizing anyone was there. That’s when we met Andy Harless, one of many we now lovingly refer to as our “Ode Family”.

After apologizing for the intrusion, we got to talking and discovered Andy would be running the Ode, as well. He asked what my intentions were, how many loops I was aiming to throw down, and without much hesitation I sarcastically said, “Not sure.. as many as it takes to win, I suppose”. In my head, I was joking. Sort of. I really had no idea.

It was just a little playful banter. I didn’t really believe I’d be able to outlast my hero and inspiration, Fish, or the other “Fast Guys”. But I guess there was a part of me deep down that wondered... What if? ...Why not?

Our new friend Andy looked surprised at my bold proclamation. He smiled smugly and proceeded to tell me about a local guy named Matt who’d done all sorts of extreme distance races that was favored to win it all. I knew I was relatively inexperienced, but what I lacked in experience, I made up for in stubbornness and grit. It was going to be fun to see how this all played out.

Pre Race Registration & Set Up

On Friday, I came to the park as early as I was allowed to check in to the race and steak out a good spot for my gang to set up our canopies. I’ll never forget meeting Tad that day. Besides being the most incredible human being in the world, Tad is the ring leader and Race Director of the Ode races and other Rooster Endurance shenanigans. I highly recommend signing up to race, crew, or volunteer at an Ode event, just for the chance to meet this guy. Your life will be better for it. I guarantee it.

When I walked up to Tad, he was sitting at a folding table covered with the typical registration stuff: check-in papers, bibs, safety pins, a stack of 70’s style running socks (the Ode theme) etc. He greeted me with a warm smile, went through some standard registration questions, then asked the same question Andy had on Sunday, “Do you have an idea how many hours you plan to go? Do you intend to run 24 hours, or more?” As he shifted his gaze down to his pen and paper ready to write in my answer next to my name on his list, I asked presumptuously, “How many will it take to win? Just put that down” I shot him a cheeky but confident grin and waited. I’ll never forget the way he paused, raised his head to study me, smiled skeptically, and said “Ok!”, then proceeded to write in my answer.

I’m not sure why I said it. No part of me believed it. And here I was spouting off AGAIN like some badass ultra runner, when I’d barely finished the ultras I’d raced in the past. I was what they call a “back of the pack” runner (and proud of it!). I got out there. I did things that scared me. And to finish was a win in my book. After a serious humbling (a DNF) at my first mountain 100 miler in Virginia the prior year, I went back to redeem myself and finish what I had started in June. I guess that “win” two months ago had renewed my confidence. If anything, I thought maybe I have a leg up since I know what going for ~28 hours straight feels like. Most of the “Fast Guys” never GET to run that long!

Either way, I was not that serious about winning. I am competitive by nature, sure. But I was not out to beat everyone, nor did I honestly believe that I could. It was playful banter, with no substance.

The only thing I was serious about was exploring my own limits… and figuring out when I would break. At what point would I be “done”? I was absolutely in love with the concept.

It was not about beating a cut off time in order to cover X number of miles and collect your medal. An unknown finish line is a true test of mental and physical stamina, where speed does not matter. Whether you finish the loop first or last, you are still in first place, so long as you get back up and start again when the bell rings. The race is yours to lose. And the prize at the end, for all but one, is the satisfaction of knowing that you went as far as you possibly could and a big fat DNF on your Ultrasignup account.

To most “Type A” ultra runners, the DNF is a hard pill to swallow. DNF = Did Not Finish = You were not enough = You whimped out, took your ball, and went home early. For most, it is crushing. And the worst part isn’t when you decide to stop on race day - because you’ve spent some time rationalizing and justifying it all. It’s the next day, or days that follow where you look back and think, “I probably could’ve kept going”, and the sting of your ineptitude really sinks in.

Perhaps, this is why the Backyard is so addicting and growing in popularity each year. Because even after you hit a goal or some sort of monumental milestone, you realize you could do one more.

Alright, back to the story. After picking up my race bib and Ode swag, I set up 2 canopies, a tarp, tables and tent chairs. It would be a nice little commune for our pack. I was excited for us all to share the space between loops and make memories together. As I was setting up, I eyed my competition setting up next to me. Mark Mccasslin and Andrew Puglise were getting cozy in their canopies next to mine. After a quick chat, I knew I was out of my league - these guys had gone the distance! Mark had even done the World Championship Backyard race at “Bigs”! I had no chance.

Chef Andrew and Michelin 5-Star Food Prep

Upon returning home that afternoon, Andrew was busy prepping food for the weekend. Strange as it may sound, Andrew was not at all tempted by the idea of running in circles for hours on end. Especially after he learned the night section was an out-and-back on roads. He happily agreed to crew for me and let this be “My” race. It was strange at first, because we had ALWAYS tackled ultras together. It would be interesting to see how I would fare without him running next to me. However, the looped nature of the event allows for hourly checkpoints, so we wouldn't be separated for THAT long. Plus, he really likes to cook. So, ultimately I was happy knowing he would be there enjoying a “relaxing” day at the park with our other crewing and running friends and at the same time, I was excited to see what I could do on my “own”.

I say that in “quotes” because, in the Backyard, you can’t really do it alone. I guess hypothetically you could , but I can’t imagine it would be very easy or that you would last very long. Having a reliable crew person makes all the difference and saves you time since you do not have much time in between loops as it is. And as the “Yards” start to pile up, that time gets shorter and shorter. Not only do I have a dedicated crew that supports me on race day(s), he pulls out all the stops when it comes to feeding me.

Now here is where I take a moment to express just how lucky I am to have Chef Andrew as my husband and Chief Crew person, and attempt to describe the extreme lengths he goes to for me.

Not only did he do all the grocery shopping (hitting multiple stores), he insisted on managing all of the cooking, assembly, and packing. When I walked into the house that afternoon, he was using actual scissors to cut square holes into the bite-sized, soft Hawaiian bread rolls so that he could fill them with extra PB&J or soft Boursin cheese spread and top with turkey, avocado, and cucumber. He also had a pot of homemade chicken broth boiling on the stove for soup with udon noodles that he would pre-cut (for easier consumption mid-race). In addition, there was sticky rice cooking for the seaweed wrapped miso-stuffed rice balls he’d make. Oh and I can’t forget the from-scratch pancake mix he whipped together for day 2 breakfast.

I know I am beyond spoiled, but for the record, I did tell him to throw in a few cans of Progresso and call it a day. He insisted that I not “Cook-block” him - that he enjoys cooking for me and wanted nothing but the best, healthy, organic ingredients to fuel me. He was also excited to share with the other runners. So I decided to pick my battles and let him take charge when it came to race food catering.

”Be Confident, Not Certain” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

With the menu covered, I could worry about packing the car and daydreaming about how long this race would last. I was fairly confident I had 24 hours in me based on my previous 100 mile experiences, but I was not certain I could hold on to such a “fast” pace. Now to those unfamiliar to the Backyard, a 4ish-mph (14:24 mile) pace may not seem that impressive. However, to provide some perspective, most “back of the pack” runners like me could only dream of a 24-hour 100 mile time. My fastest 100 miler at that point was 27 hours and 15 minutes (that’s 16:21 average mile pace) on a FLAT course in ideal conditions. And that was only 45 minutes under cut off! Needless to say, I was not sure I could drop 3+ hours from my personal record on a hilly course in the hot and humid Michigan summer. Especially as the format does not allow for a bad hour. You have to maintain a steady, consistent pace. It seems an easy enough concept to wrap your head around, but that is not all... The other element I had not considered prior to this was the distance between your chair and the starting corral. When the whistle would blow for the 3 minute, 2 minute, and then 1 minute warnings, you would have to convince yourself to get up from the chair and toe the line with competitors that were far more experienced and capable than you. You would have to ignore all of the doubts and insecurities flooding your brain as the pain mounted and the hours elapsed and believe that you could do one more. And when you stopped believing it was possible, you’d need a crew like mine to tell you otherwise.

The Ode begins… But when will it end?

The initial hours of Ode flew by. It felt like a casual weekend run with all of my friends, filled with smiles and excitement for the challenge ahead. When you don’t know how long it’s going to last, you really learn to savor each moment. It was crazy how each lap felt different, even though it was the same. I’d meet a new friend and have a great conversation, and the next lap, depending on how we all filed into the single track trail, I’d get to latch on to another new friend and enjoy a different conversation.

The other enjoyable aspect of the Ode is the out-and-back sections. The first one is around the parking lot at the beginning (pictured below). This half mile loop helps to space out runners and allows you to settle into your pace before entering the trails, but also provides an opportunity for high-fives, cheeky banter, and a little cheering from your crew pit before you take on rest of the course. The second out-and-back section starts with the Stairway to Heaven and again enables interaction with other runners coming and going. Something so simple about a “Way to go” or “You’re doing great” but to hear it, and even better, to say it, gives such a boost. Personally, I feed off of others and like knowing that I am not alone.

But as the hours drag on, the runners drop, and the trails space out. This isn’t terrible either. Spending time alone out there forces you to find creative ways to occupy your mind. As simple as counting the steps up a hill or timing when you hit a certain landmark. One of the “landmarks” of the Ode I discovered during one of these “lonely” sections, when I needed something to distract me from thinking about the infinite finish line. I can't remember exactly when I found her, but I think it was late in the day, maybe 7 or 8 hours in - so around 4/5pm when the heat of the day really starts to kick your butt and you can't wait for the sun to go down. The ironic thing is, once I found her, I didn’t want the sun to set. I couldn’t wait to show her off to everyone! When I finished that lap, I told anyone who’d listen about my new dinosaur friend, and offered to show them if they stuck with me! I got a few takers that next hour and revealed her hiding spot. Then the word started to spread. Sarahsaurus became the “Where’s Waldo” of the Ode. Can you find her?

Sarahsaurus provided much needed mental motivation during a difficult time on the trails, when physical fuel was hard to get down. Andrew tried to force a chicken sausage hotdog down my throat at one point, but it was so dry in my mouth, I immediately spit it back out. I was able to get the Go-go Squeeze yogurt and applesauce packets down, but they were starting to get boring. It was going to be a battle to get to the night, but it was only a few hours away. I knew, if I could hang on til sunset, I’d catch a second wind and recover on the “easy” road section for the night loops.

At last, darkness. 12 remain as the night loops commence

It’s crazy how you can swing from the depths of hell to heavenly bliss from one hour to the next. Pictured above was my lowest point. But the best part of hitting rock bottom, is that the only way to go is up. As the sun began to drop below the trees, so did the temperature. On the final trail loop, the sunset on the lake was breathtaking and I started to come alive. I was able to eat finally. Andrew went with the soup this time and it went down nicely. Relieved to be going into the darkness, I grabbed my headlamp and latched on to Fish and Lavalle and 10 others who were still going strong. After one lap on the road, Lavalle decided to throw in the towel. I was surprised to see him go, but the biggest shock of the day was when we started the next lap, and the only other female still in the race dropped. I couldn’t believe it. I would be top female?! What is happening?!

With that incredible boost, as the last female standing, I had no choice but to continue for as long as my legs would allow and see if I could outlast the boys. Plus, the road was much “easier” than the trails. You don’t have to worry about roots and rocks so you can zone out and practically close your eyes and run. Don’t be fooled into thinking the roads are easy, though. It is not flat. But I guess the rolling hills are a good thing. They provide natural walk break opportunities. Although tempting, running the night section too fast is not a good idea in my opinion. It might work for some, but if you want to go for days, it’s better to conserve. Also, by taking it “easy”, you can invest some of your energy into making more Ode friends.

Another fun and unforgettable aspect of the night course (which I get in trouble with the Race Director for doing) is running without a light. Thanks to Fish for telling me to switch off my headlamp and embrace the darkness. On a perfect cloudless night, the moon and stars provided ample illumination. Not only is it nice to not have to wear your headlamp the entire time, you truly get lost in the moment when it is THAT dark. The shadows and bushes start to take form and play tricks with your eyes. A few times, going under a canopy of trees, it got SO dark I could no longer see the road at all. Out of fear, I wanted to flash my light to make sure I wasn’t going to run into a bush, but Fish calmed me and said, “Wait, trust it, your eyes will adjust”. (Disclaimer: Dont be stupid. If a car is coming, lights on for safety! It’ll keep Tad smiling!)

It’s hard to adequately describe how fulfilling it was to share 17 miles (a solid 4 hours) with Fish, my inspiration, my idol - the guy who planted the seed of all this crazy ultra business in the first place. After 16 hours, 66 miles, he said he was done, and for the second time that day I was absolutely dumbfounded. I teared up as I hugged him goodbye, knowing he had more in him. He looked fresh as a daisy. Was he just letting me have this? How is this possible? Nothing made any sense. On top of the shock, I was sad to see him go. I loved his company and was nowhere near done myself. My second wind had just kicked in. As we floated through the night loops together, I started to fantasize that maybe it could come down to Fish and I. I imagined an epic battle, and inevitably coming second to him, but still, what an honor to even be able to compete! But suddenly, his race was over. And now I had to venture on and figure out how to keep going “by myself”....

And then there were 5...

“By myself”. Ha. That was never going to happen. I am way too needy. I quickly latched on to the remaining 4 guys and discovered that Matt Antoniou was the “ring-leader” setting the pace, dictating walk breaks, and leading the story telling. Prior to joining their pack, I noticed them coming in a few minutes slower than Fish and I. As I listened to Matt tell stories of other races and distances he’d covered, I realized he knew what he was doing. So rather than run ahead and be alone, I opted for the company, a slower pace, and hopefully to learn a thing or two. I also wanted to feel out my “competition”. How were these guys doing? Were they fading? Matt seemed obnoxiously strong. Unfazed. He’d run 200 miles in the past and the hardest 100 mile races I was too chicken to even consider signing up for. After a couple hours listening to him, those negative voices started to creep in. Doubts and fears of not being “enough” and being “out of my league” started to chip away at my confidence.

The other struggle that the night brought was FOMO. The crew pit area had turned into a wild party, with 70s music blasting, friends dancing, and the keg flowing. It was at this point where I started to rationalize quitting. Being my first backyard, top 5 was good enough (shoot, I had outlasted Fish and the other “fast guys” - I could go home now!). I also started to think there was no way I would be able to outlast my competition, so why not throw in the towel and join in the crew pit fun?

What I didn’t realize at first, was that Matt was simply “playing the game”. I didn't know there even was a “game” other than running as far as you possibly could. But there definitely is a mind game that comes into play as the field dwindles in the backyard. Everyone plays to win. And the only way to win is for the others to drop. When I got to my crew around 18 hours in (~3am) I was mentally faltering. It’s the witching hour, when your body is tired and begging you to go to sleep and it's going to be another 4 hours of darkness until the sun rises. I broke down and cried to my loyal crew-friends who brought as much energy and positivity that you could ever dream to have in the middle of the night after that many hours of running. Even still, I sobbed and vented to them: I was not cut out for this... I was not going to make it... I was wasting their time... I should just end it now.

My crew insisted I must continue because they were having too much fun for it to end. They reassured me that I was strong and capable and all of the positive things I needed to hear but was unable to tell myself at that point. We were down to 3, now. All I needed to focus on was one more. Just get out there for one more. Even Matt’s crew, Claudia S, was cheering for me, and gave me the best piece of advice that I’ve used and passed on many times since... She said, “Sarah, Stay Present!”. So I did. After one more, lap 20 began and Miko dropped. Again, I was stunned.

With Miko out, it was down to 2: Ultra-running-vetran-Matt vs. Rookie-me. How on earth did this happen? Only a couple more hours til sunrise and 4 more hours of road left. Then it would be back to the trails, but I was too scared to even think about, yet. "Stay Present". One at a time….

A battle to the end...

One at a time. That is all I had to think about. I tried not to think about Matt. Although I did try to “play the game” a little and razz him for taking so long to join me in the starting corral. I reminded him not to forget his purse. Nevertheless, he showed no sign of wavering and continued, all smiles with a steady pace. At one point, he took off. I let him go and enjoyed the time to reflect on how far I had come.

It was now a matter of who wanted it more...
I wasn’t sure I wanted it more.
...But I wasn’t sure I didn’t want it, either.

I held on to the fact that the sun was going to rise soon. As much as I wanted it to set on the trails yesterday is as much as I wanted it to rise and bring with it new energy in order to take on the day ahead. Matt had filled me with dread when he confidently proclaimed during one of the previous night loops that he “couldn't wait to get back on the trails” and that he was ready to go 30+ hours. His trail and ultra experience far surpassed mine, and I knew the Stairway to Heaven was going to seriously hurt on Day 2. But nevermind that. I could not worry about what was to come. I needed to get through the night, first.

The final road hours were brutal. They were so bad, I actually started to get excited for the trail, knowing they’d bring variation and soft footing. Finally the sun was rising, and I could feel myself waking up. And with that, I suddenly made up my mind and was determined. I wasn’t determined to win, necessarily. But I was determined not to quit. I had made the resolution that if I lost, it would NOT be because I chose to step down. If I was able to complete the loop in time, I would start another, and another, until I timed out. Matt would win because he was faster and had more endurance than me.

I would not give him the win without first seeing how far I could go. I wanted to discover MY limit. That is what I came for, afterall.

Just as I set my mind to that plan, a car pulled up on my shoulder along the road honking away. It was my beautiful, bubbly friend, Kathy Bansek. She cheered me on from the car as she slow-rolled past, expressing how excited she was for me and how amazed she was that I had lasted so long. She couldn’t believe I was still going when she checked in with the crew, so she hopped in her car, grabbed her camera, and drove out to join. As she carried on into the park, I got yet another boost that solidified my will to continue.

Things were heating up now, 23 yards down. Andrew fed me fresh pancakes that tasted amazing and my positive spirits had now officially returned. We were about to start our final road loop that would mark 100 miles upon completion, and a new PR for me. I felt better than ever. RD Tad came over to see how I was doing and asked if there was one thing, anything, that I wanted right at that moment. Without giving it much thought, I said, Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. My all time favorite ice cream. I was still nomming a pancake as we started the 24th yard. On that final road hour, I said farewell to the familiar landmarks along the way and was so pleased that my legs were still moving pretty good. Upon my return, I sat down and out of nowhere an angel appeared delivering several pints of ice cold ice cream. Including a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. I felt like royalty, ready to take on another 24 hours!

With some delicious ice cream in my belly and pep talks from my crew, I was eager to take on the trails again. As the bell rang to start lap 25, I felt like a racehorse bursting out of the gate, and noticed Matt did not match me with equal enthusiasm. Was he struggling? I couldn’t tell after the parking lot out-and-back, he was all smiles as usual and not far behind. Maybe he just needed to loosen up. Anyway, I was less worried about him, and more so worried about myself and making it around the technical trail loop in under an hour on tired legs. I liked having enough time to take aid, and could feel a blister coming on that would need fixing, so I just put my head down and pushed.

The Stairway to Heaven didn’t hurt as bad as I imagined it would when I had been worrying about it on the road. I took them easy, leaned into the hill, pushed off my quads, and accepted that they would be uncomfortable for a few minutes. Even though they hurt a little, I was amazed at what I was still able to do. I wasn’t really suffering THAT bad. When I got to the top, I glanced back to see if Matt was on my heels, but didn’t see him. I continued, knowing that I could gauge just how far behind he was once I turned around. By now, I had all my landmarks timed. ~18-20 minutes to the second out-and-back turnaround, ~20-25 minutes to the West Lot, 40-42 minutes to the “Finish” sign a half mile out - and then you can walk it in from there. On the return of the second out-and-back, I kept looking to see Matt approaching. Finally he appeared, and was farther back than I would have guessed. I thought he couldn’t wait to get back on the trail? Nevermind, “Keep Pushing, Stay Present!”, I told myself. It didn’t matter what Matt did, I needed to pop this blister that felt like it was about to bust out of my shoe, so I needed to get back as quickly as possible.

I pushed it on the back half of the loop. I fast walked the hills and when I felt like walking the flats, I just kept telling myself to push. I was so focused on finishing, I even forgot to look for and say “Hello” to Sarahsaurus. As I emerged from the woods, I yelled that it was blister popping time and Andrew grabbed the kit. I plopped down on my chair, whipped out my tootsies, and braced myself for the repair. Rushing to get at the blister, poor nurse Andrew was the recipient of a few expletives as I screamed in agony when he aggressively went for it. He is a saint for being so good to me. But honestly, that hurt more than all 25 hours of running combined!

Once the blister was relieved, Andrew patched me back up, and put on a fresh pair of socks, under my dirty, day old, 70s socks. (I was determined to stick with the theme, so they went back on.) I shoveled in a few more spoonfuls of Cherry Garcia and the 3 minute whistle blew. Where was Matt? It was almost time to go!

The two minute whistle blew and I didn’t want to sit for too long and stiffen up, so I made my way to the corral. He still had time, and I needed to be ready to go. This wasn’t over, yet. Then the 1 minute whistle blew, as everyone was looking to the trailhead to see when Matt would emerge, I looked at Celia in disbelief. Wait.. is this really happening?

30 seconds… 20 seconds… 10, 9, 8… Still no sign of Matt.. 5, 4, 3, No. Way…. “Is this real life?”

It’s over. Matt timed out. And even though I never would have believed it, I am the last one standing... I was enough .

Thanks Kathy for showing up and capturing this moment, because these pictures describe it better than I ever could with words.

Matt eventually made it out of the woods that day. (Perhaps he struggled that last yard because he didn’t get the CheezIts he requested) Anyway, although the race was over, it marked the beginning of a friendship that I have cherished ever since. In fact, Matt and Miko both have been more than friends these past two years... They are my Ode Family, and I look forward to our Ode reunions and other random meetups with great anticipation.

In the days and weeks that followed the Ode, so many things changed for me. Mostly, my thinking started to shift for the better. I witnessed monumental accomplishments, including the World Championship Backyard Ultra at Big’s and watched as Maggie Guterl went on to win it in a mere 60 hours! (2.5 times as many hours as I did.) Not only did I fall in fangirl love, I started to dream bigger for myself. I set my goal on going to Big’s in 2020. If she could do it, why couldn’t I? All I had to do was win a Golden Ticket...

And I knew just where to do it…. In my Ode Backyard.

Special Thanks

Have to give a special thanks to my amazing crew. I could never do it justice but I want to express how much I appreciate everyone that showed up for me throughout the race:

Celia and Ron - you each took part in the Ode race (running 21 and 42 miles, respectively) and then stayed to crew and support me through the remainder of the day, the night, and through the finish line. Who does that? You went above and beyond and I’ll never forget it.

Rita, Frank, and Dave - Thanks for being there to support and encourage me during my darkest hours and making the first year of the Ode such a blast. Rita, thanks for all the behind the scenes stuff you did for me and the girls. Pulling off a camping weekend would not have been possible without you. Frank, thanks for hanging out, helping out, and letting Amelia drive your Jeep. Dave, Thanks for getting in my face when I needed a pep talk and reminding me that I could do it... And for keeping the party going with Frank.

Matt Shipes - “Shipes Wipes!” Without you, there’s no way I would’ve made it past the heat of the first day. Andrew is still trying to master the art of a perfectly folded and wetted paper towel. The fact that you came and hung out all day was so special. No one can Shipes Wipe like you!

Kathy - Thanks again for showing up Sunday morning and taking great photos that transport me back in time. You must make sure you are in more of them, though!

And of course, my Crew Chef and Crew Chief, Andrew - You know I couldn’t have done it without you. Not a chance. I win every day, just by having you by my side.