October 11-14th 2024

144 miles +19,551ft/ -17,379ft

“You were once wild here. Don’t let them tame you” ~Isadora Duncan

By around 2:00am I notice I have a lot of sand in my shoes. I decide to stop and empty them out. When I tilt my head down towards my feet I realize my headlamp has run out of battery, it needs to be charged. I fumble around with getting it connected, empty out my shoes and eat a snack. At this point I see an area behind a large boulder that looks as inviting as any place to perhaps lay down for a bit. I need to try and sleep so I make the executive decision to do so.

I try my best to be efficient about picking a place to lay down, lay out my Gossamer Gear pad, change into my sleep socks and put my down pants and puffy on over my clothes and my buff over my eyes. I lay there comfortably for quite a time, but I have the distinctive feeling like sleep might elude me. I hear a set of footsteps that sounds disturbingly close. I find this odd and am half expecting someone to come over and discover me laying there. Nothing happens and I try to ignore the sounds. Then all I can hear is the crunching of footsteps made by other runners going by.

I can’t help but wonder if this is a mistake, but justify by thinking that everyone is going to stop and sleep at some point, I am just choosing to do this here and now. About 30 minutes goes by and I am finally starting to drift off when suddenly a rodent of some fair size jumps on top of me from behind, startling me as it scampers away. This shoots adrenaline through my system, my heart is now racing and I feel vulnerable. Is there going to be more of them? I decide to get out my emergency bivy and cover myself up with it, as if this thin piece of crunchy ultra light material will somehow protect me from further rodent incidents.

I turn on my side once again, and once again, sleep evades me. All I can hear is the sound of feet crunching on gravel, a few conversations and occasional music. I reckon there must be at least 40-50 runners passing me by. I feel like I have made a big mistake. I again try to justify this stop in my mind, with thoughts like you are getting rest and this is part of good recovery but I can’t seem to shake the fact that now I am certainly in the very back of the pack. It is a sinking feeling yet I convince myself that I have plenty of time to catch up or pass others once they have stopped.

I had set my alarm for 4:00am yet by 3:45am I am done laying down and done not sleeping. Nothing about this stop feels produtive and I am super frustrated that I couldn’t sleep and ironically now, I am feeling sleepy as heck. But I have to get up and go, so I do. I scrunch up the mylar bivy, take off my puffy clothes, change my socks back into my gritty dirty ones, tighten up my laces, put my Kogalla and headlamp back on, sling my pack over my shoulders and I’m ready to set off into the pre-dawn.

As I prepare to start moving again I hear some strange yelling coming from another runner. It is a male voice, he is shouting at himself, and the reverberations of his vioce echo into the deep abyss that we are moving through. “wake…the…fuck…up!!!!” he yells. Then “you…have…work…to do!” It is enough to startle me again and I hesitate for just a moment to allow him to get a little more ahead of me. It may sound terrible but I am not in a space of keeping someone company who is yelling at themselves.

The gravel road opens up in front of me and I try to maintain the best pace I can, at just above a fast walk. Before long, perhaps two miles, I hear and see someone off the route crunching around in some low vegetation. I think it must be the guy I heard earlier. I call over to him “hey, are you okay?” His response is a lethargic “do you know where the trail goes?” I reply with “I think it’s this way, you’re not far off at all” and continue on.

I hope my voice and headlamp were enough to get him back on track. From here, I alternate between a walk and a slow jog for the next couple of hours until daylight begins to wash into the giant basin I am in. The light is very pale, almost imperceptible, yet I am thankful when, at 6:50am I am able to finally shut off my lights and continue with natural light. The day is beginning and I realize that I made it through the night!

It feels like a celebration, and yet it doesn’t since I got passed by so many people. Still, I have to shut that out and just run my own race. I soon have to poop so I duck off the trail to scout a private place, using the wag bag with limited ability to see and thank goodness it works out, not my first wag bag rodeo for sure. Once back on track, I force down the rest of my quesadillas leftover from Base Camp last night. It is work to get them down but I get the job done, so that’s a win!

By ten past seven, morning is under way and I am at mile 47. I check in with myself, noting that I feel nauseous and can’t fathom eating anything else. I try to make up some time by moving faster but my hamstring is spasming anytime I move much faster than 3mph so I hover right at that tipping point and try to just keep steady and am able to put down several 18 minute miles in a row.

By 8:04am I hit mile 50 and calculate it took me 20 hours elapsed time to reach this point. I then calculate all my stopped time, which amounts to at least 4 hours, which unfortunately still leaves me with zero sleep. I started with the overall goal of 50+ miles for every 24 hours to complete this race and while I am technically ahead of that goal I feel too close to the cut off times to stop and try to sleep now. Ironically, I really feel like I could knock out. As I have this thought I see someone passed out on the side of the trail, I guess they had the same idea, but they probably haven’t stopped until now.

I am enough ahead of cut off times and moving steadily, so I remind myself there’s good things happening and I will make up for that lost time somewhere, somehow. I turn my attention to take in my surroundings, remembering why I am here. I am here to be in this space, to feel the energy of this land, to connect with myself, to explore places I’ve never been and to have new experiences that I can learn from.

I reflect on times I have greeted the dawn from deep down in the Grand Canyon which this landscape reminds me of. There are towering walls of red and pink rock to my left with beautiful layered formations, and to my right, an open expansiveness. The light is pale pastel and the world holds the stillness of morning. I am but one small figment of existence, a tiny little dot moving through time and space. I am right where I need to be.

It never really cooled down last night and I am only wearing a t-shirt, arm sleeves and shorts. This warmth so early in the day makes me think about the heat that is to come. I reflect back to thru-hiking the Arizona Trail in 2019 when I would get up before sunrise to make some early miles in the cool mornings, before what I then called the “death orb” hit the sky. With thoughts of the impending heat, I turn my focus to thinking about the next aid station. The Oasis is at mile 53.5 where I hope I can get some cold water, perhaps even some ice, and something to eat for breakfast, maybe even a cofffee!

It is around 9:45am when I arrive at The Oasis and it’s already scorching hot out. They have several tents set up in the middle of what looks like a hot, dry, barren field. Hence the name “Oasis”. The volunteers here are helpful yet busy also assisting other runners with water bottle refills and the like. One of them tells me they have just a little bit of ice remaining and if I can just wait a few minutes I can get some. So I wait. Yes, Ice please.

They jam as much ice as they have into my flasks, and I fill up my bladder to the brim. I am going to need all the water I can get for this next segment. It’s 14.2 miles to Indian Creek which will get me to my crew, completing the 51 miles without them since yesterday evening.

The runners manual describes this upcoming section as “lots of little climbs and descents around the bases of massive mesas. This section will feel like more climbing than the last one, it’s a really physically and mentally tough section and it will destroy anyone who does not carry enough water”. It goes on to say “there is no dropping out here unless there is a medical emergency. The walk out is over 20 miles on a 4×4 road.”

I make my way over to the food table to look for some breakfast items. Perhaps I was hoping for some eggs but don’t see them available, there is nobody there to ask and I feel pressed for time. There isn’t a lot to choose from so I decide on a large pancake, which I douse with butter and then plop a bunch of Skippy peanut butter on top, folding it into a peanut butter pancake taco. I also grab some potato chips, a quarter of a bannana and I am good to go!

I leave the aid station at 10:00am feeling like I did well to get in and out in just 15 minutes. On my way out I see the medical volunteers tending to some folks that are in a bad way. There are at least three runners laying on the ground in various states of what looks like incapacitation. I presume it has something to do with heat and/or dehydration. I’m glad they are getting medical attention and leary of what they are going to have to go through to get themselves out if they need to drop here.

As I set off the dirt track on a slight downhill I start shoving said PB pancake into my mouth and immediately regret this food choice. I should have known. My throat starts to close up, my trahcea becomes so tight, I am still not salivating! I try so hard to swallow the food and this results in a stabbing pain in my upper sternum. Is this what a heart attack feels like?

Not only does it hurt like hell, I can’t seem to swallow it down, even with sips of water everything is stuck. It gets so bad I have to stop moving. I drop to my knees and put my hands on the ground and this somehow palliates my concern momentarily. I turn my head to look back at the aid station and for a few moments I am thinking I may too need medical attention as I am having a hard time breathing. I have to keep calm.

I try my best to suck in water and keep trying to chew and swallow. It is so painful, I have never experienced anything like this. Finally, I am able to clear my throat of the glue like food. There is no way I am going to be able to eat the rest of this thing, I need to get rid of it. I have to take my pack off so I can stuff it away from my sight. After several minutes I finally feel like I am able to breathe again, I stand back up and resume walking down Lockhart Basin Road.

Fortunately for my morale, I had decided to power on my InReach when I was at the Aid Station, so I have several messages that have come in. When I check them, I see so many words of encouragement, it is awesome!

Brad writes “Good morning Darlin’ Baby Baby Darlin’! The sunrise is coming soon and you’ll be graced by it’s warmth and color. Margaret says she’s proud of you for staying steady and “You’re Fit as Fuck”. (That was her personal mantra when she ran Leadville.)

His next messsage reads “I’m packed up and will be pacing you for the next section. I Love You and we’ll see you soon!”

Christy writes “with you all the way!! You have one big heart and determination like no other.”

Anne, my BFF who lives in Switzerland, writes “Sun’s coming up! First night, check! Fill up on renewed energy, fresh strength in your legs, spirits high! Rooting for you my friend, big hug, much love xox.”

I smile with these words and this energy does fill me up with excitement and gratitude. It’s amazing how much these messages help boost me, I feel so supported by everyone and it reminds me that I am about to see my crew soon so I need to push and get there!

Over the subsequent couple of hours the temperature becomes hotter and hotter. I celebrate mile 60 at 11:52am, recognizing I am 25% of the way done! I feel thrilled at this achievement, not only did I make it through the night but I have made it 60 miles in 24 hours, that’s 1/4 of the way there in one day. I have also never travelled more than 50 miles in one push, so there is celebration in this milestone too. In theory I will make it to the finish in 96 hours if I am able to continue at this pace. In my mind, that seems doable. Depsite all my stopped time and all the people that passed me by, I try to use this achievement as fuel that I can do this.

The dirt track flattens and smooths out a bit here and I am able to do an alternating walk/jog for seven miles, meanwhile trying to assuage the blistering heat by dousing my arm sleeves with water from my bladder tube. I begin to see a lot of folks stopped on the side of the trail, they are hiding in makeshift shade using boulders and even their mylar blankets to fashion a cover from the relentless sun. I am pleasantly surprised that I am holding up well in the heat, I feel okay as long as I can keep my arms wet  from time to time, but boy do they dry fast!

Along with heat comes more sweat and loss of salt, beverages are now hot in my mouth, I still have a wicked dry mouth and now chafing. I find I need to stop several times to apply Squirrels Nut Butter salve to my ass and inner thighs, which renders my hands filthy and greasy. I slather sun screen on my exposed skin, pull down my hat over my face and march forth. I calculate by now that I might make it to Indian Creek by 2:00pm, which is an hour and fifteen minutes beyond my B goal (I don’t realize it at the time and I think I am still within reach of my “B” goal) so I keep my chin up and smile, pressing into the heat. Almost there!

2:07pm. I am at mile 67, I just had the strangest sensation happen to my toe, it suddenly feels as if the nerve is super hot and burning, the whole toe has gone numb and now it’s quite painful. It takes me by surprise and I am perplexed as to why it’s so numb. Yet I can only surmise there is a blister that must have popped, expressing very hot liquid onto my foot. What an odd sensation. Nevertheless, I have just under one mile to Indian Creek and am very motivated to get there and see my crew. I really really need to get some sleep and of course there is a whole host of other things that need tending to. Including this blister and who knows how many more?

In the last half mile before Indian Creek there is a man in a 4×4 vehicle with a large jug of water that he offers to dispense. He has a Destination Trail sign on the vehicle and says he is with the race organization. He has been given special permission to offer water to the runners on account of the extreme heat. Since I am literally down to my last swallows and my mouth is dry as fuck, I accept a small amount. I know I am super close to aid so I don’t want to take more than I need but this helps a lot. I thank the man and press on.

When I round the last bend in the road I finally catch a glimpse of what must be the aid station as there are many vehicles parked in a large dirt lot. I pick up my pace and within a quarter mile I see Margaret cheering, she’s here! Margaret drove out from Flagstaff yesterday and will pace me from Shay to Dry Valley. I then see Brad, Dan and Christy too, it feels so great to be here with everybody, whooo hoooo!!!

I continue jogging and they direct me to check in, giving my bib number to the volunters at the aid station, then they steer me to the van. Finally I am able to sit down and get some shade! I am unbelieveably hot, it is super windy and there is fine sand blowing everywhere and getting in everything. The first thing I want to do is take off my shoes, a ton of and flows out, I take off my socks and allow my feet to finally breathe. Huge relief!

Just like at Amasa Back, Christy & Dan get my feet promptly into an ice bath, how amazing this feels I cannot describe. When that’s done I take a look at my feet. I have crazy blisters all over my toes, we need to pop them and get the leukotape off. I start working on that and in the process so much skin tears off that I’m left with raw flesh. Crap. This does not look good. Christy keeps saying “don’t look at it” but I need to understand what’s going on. Brad begins to tend to the skin, popping, cutting and cleaning and it hurts. A couple times I wince in pain and part of me wonders how I will go on?

I try to drink as many fluids as possible and guzzle a Koia protein smoothie prety quick, that one is a win! I realize now that I haven’t peed since before I got to the Oasis five hours ago. I need real hydration and reach for some ice cold coconut water, which sure hits the spot. I guzzle the liquids but I have zero appetite. Margaret tries to get me to eat a burger she got for me from the food table. I know I have to eat real food but right at this moment I am certain I would only puke it up and all I can think about is trying to get some sleep, I am so sleepy. It blows my mind that I have gone 26 hours without sleep, never before in my life.

We eventually get my full body wiped down, and I crawl into the back of the van to lay on the bed. I am still so hot so I lay there naked on top of the covers. At a point I can hear so much commotion going on. The people parked nearby us have a stuck vehicle and are trying to get help. Margaret is attempting to facilitate this. There is a lot of noise, I am hot and sweaty and I lay there still not sleeping. I ask Brad to cover me in a wet towel and that sure feels amazing. Still I do not sleep. We all justify that at least I am resting and getting some form of recovery.

Somehow there is a Volunteer Medic named Bubbles who appears and is able to help doctor up my blisters. While she does this I am able to take down a burger from the aid station. It is the first “real” food I am able to eat since the pasta last night and it goes down pretty well, another win! Bubbles is from Colorado and she is so great, super positive, super skilled. She teaches me how not to wrap leukotape all the way around my toes and informs me that doing so creates more blisters because the swelling has nowhere to go. Makes so much sense!

My toes are so macerated yet once I get up and put on my shoes I am amazed at how little they hurt! Hooray! This could have been a deal breaker so early on in the race. I am so thankful for her and all the care my crew gave me. Brad is suited up and ready to start off with me into the second night. As we are departing, the sun has just set, offering a golden glow to the surrounding landscape. It is quite beautiful and peaceful.

Dan and Christy’s grandson Sawyer, who is two weeks shy of his 2nd Birthday, made a little sign before they left home (which Dan may or may not have enhanced) that says “78 is Great” and as we are about to leave the aid station they share the sign and Sawyer’s words of encouragement. Apparently he now says “Milissa! Brad! Run! Fun!” So adorable!! We laugh a lot and now instead of “in it to win it” being our team motto, it is now “Milissa! Brad! Run! Fun!”

We are some of the last ones to leave Indian Creek and not too far behind the 6:10pm cutoff. My “B” time goal was to leave by 5:00pm so we are now a little over an hour beyond that. It’s getting tight but we are still in it and I am super stoked to be setting off for the night with my amazing partner! This is something we have been training for and looking forward to for the past nine months. To have finally reached this moment is really thrilling. Whoo hooo!

We leave the aid station following along a dirt track for a spell then hit some pavement just as darknesss is falling. The moon is growing in brightness as she ascends into the peak of the night sky. Shortly we need our headlamps and Kogalla set ups so we stop to put them on.

Once illuminated we run single file on the highway to keep safe from any cars. People honk their horns and cheer for us as they pass and this invigorates our spirits. It is a lovely night with very mild temps and I am so pleased it’s finally cooling down. Today was just gnarly hot. I know it will do us well to press on and make good miles now with these cooler temperatures, but I still can’t get it out of my head that I literally have not slept yet, my mind in disbelief. This perceived need for sleep is messing with my ability to keep pushing and it is so good that I have a pacer now.

Brad is fresh and strong so I have to rely on him to help me keep my pace steady and consistent for as long as I can hold out without sleep. This first pacer segment requires us to run together for the next 47 miles, until Shay Mountain aid station which will be mile 114.2. With the goal in mind to cover roughly 50 miles every 24 hours, we aim to be there tomorrow around mid day if all goes well, so we have much less than 24 hours to cover this distance together, making up for some lost time if we can.

We both have full gear on our backs, with all that we need for some proper trail napping and with plenty of water my pack now weighs 20 lbs. The runners manual remarks that temps can drop below freezing here in the night. That will be quite different from last night’s temps so we are prepared. It’s 13.7 miles to the Island aid station and since I have pretty much lost track of what my “A” and “B” goals are, I turn my trust over to Brad, following behind.

After a few good miles on pavement, the trail veers off to the right, passes through a gate and we are back on dirt. Here we enter Canyonlands National Park heading South toward Lavender Canyon. By 10:00pm we are moving well still, we travel along a dirt track that eventually turns into a wash. As we enter the sandy section we notice there are some spindly trees, perhaps in the willow family or similar.

We hear the hooting of an owl and we both get super excited! It’s an owl! We are able to see it nestled up in the tree and we take a few moments to acknowledge this magestic creature. Brad says he thinks it’s a Screetch Owl. It allows us to engage with it for a good minute, surely this is a form of trail support!

The wash spreads out and it becomes less obvious where we are to go. Brad does an excellent job navigating through this broad moonlit area. Soon, we see some cars and vans parked off to the side with lights, music and general commotion. It seems folks are camping here, they are up late chatting and it appears maybe playing horseshoes? We wave hello and they offer some cheer for support, we holler back and they say “all you runners are the nicest folks we’ve met out here” which is a true testament to our community. Of course we are in the struggle out here going into night number two and any form of good cheer is welcomed.

From here we clamber up an enbankment out of the wash, hack through some reed grasses and start a punchy climb up toward the Island aid station. When we arrive it’s 10:55pm, we have reached mile 81.6 and we are an hour and a half behingd my “B” goal. Thus we are focused on getting nourishment in the form of hot food, replenishing our flasks and moving on without spending too much time stopped.

I sit in a chair while Brad grabs food for us. I eat some tepid meatballs with pasta in a cup with some sauce (again) and Brad procures some quesadillas. I shove the food in, fending off my ongoing nausea, but I get it down. There are a few volunteers and a couple other runners but it’s generally a pretty quiet time. It feels way too good to sit by the little fire they have and we both try our best to keep our focus on getting what we need, not sitting too long and getting back out. Within 25 minutes we set off. We are definitely chasing down time and all I want is sleep.

From here we have 14.9 miles to the next aid station, Bridger Jack, with 2,239 feet of climbing. The route climbs up and out of Lavender Canyon, which sounds lovely, if only we could see the scenery! We then follow along the base of Bridger Jack Mesa and start the ascent into a more mountainous area above 6,500 ft.

As we make our way closer to midnight I feel very wobbly like I have really bad jet lag. Everything in me is begging for some sleep and I am now going on 36 hours. The sleep deprivation has really stacked up and I beg Brad to stop for just an hour. We scout a little spot next to some Utah Junipers and quickly throw down our sleep gear. I manage to pass out pretty good, waking up once then passing out again. All in all I think I get around 50 minutes of actual sleep and then it’s time to pack up and go. When we get walking again, my body feels cold and stiff but I am so very thankful for that reset.

It is the middle of the night when we set off again, we pass by a couple people laying on the ground covered up by their mylar blankets. Brad calls them “foil people” and we laugh. That was us just a little bit ago. Even though I am so far in the back of the pack, it reassures me to see other people doing the same thing. With some good pushing, my body starts to warm back up and I get a little surge of energy. We decide to bust out the Moab 240 playlist I had made on Spotify to keep us moving well. It is sure a mood lifter and we enjoy the excitement and elements of surprise when each new song begins.

I think that sleep did me well and I am amazed at that. I’d alawys heard how much better one feels after just a short dirt nap but never believed it until now. I am experiencing this for the first time and it’s quite fascinating. I notice my legs actually feel strong climbing along this rocky dirt track and I no longer feel like crying. We soon fall into a nice rhythm together, pressing the dirt under our feet one step at a time, allowing the songs to be our fuel.

By 1:49am we are at mile 84.5 and off to our right we can see silhouettes of land formations illuminated by the light of the three quarter moon. She has guided us this evening from several different vantage points, coaxing us through the night. In this moment of pause, I realize we have surpassed 80 miles, whoo hoo! Just over one third of the race is complete! Something to celebrate for sure. I calculate that we will hit mile 100 shortly after the next aid station too and that little carrot dangling in front of me is quite motivating. One hundred miles in 45 hours. Honestly pretty cool!

Somewhere in the wee hours of the night we come upon two guys, Tristan is the runner and his pacer is Pearce. We join forces with them for a good couple hours from about 2:30am to 4:30am along the rocky climb up toward Bridger Jack. It is nice to have some companions, Brad and Pearce share several great stories that I don’t really follow but hearing their voices helps keep me both focused and distracted.

As we crunch up the hills, we pass by another runner who is passed out right beside the trail. He wakes with a sudden start, shouting. I have never seen anyone get up and start moving so fast. He joins us, likely drafting on our momentum and we welcome him to the group. So now we are five.

Tristan and I are pretty silent, each of us in the struggle and trying to stay steady along with our more fresh legged and fresh brained pacers. It’s a good stretch all together, though Brad and I both realize that walking and talking with others may have slowed us down from the pace we were keeping when we caught up with them. It’s hard to say whether we would have maintained that pace or not, and either way, we agree that it felt good to have the company of others.

There are warm and cool pockets of air swirling about as we walk deeper into the wee hours of the morning. My mental fatigue gets the better of me and I become quite cranky, fighting off tears. I feel like crying is inevitable, I am just so sleepy again. So I convince Brad again that I need to stop for some sleep again.

We are just about two miles away from Bridger Jack thus I justify that we can wake up and push that final two miles faster after we get some sleep. I reckon too, that we can have some good breakfast food and down a bunch of coffee at Bridger Jack while the sun is rising. That will be the start of day three and the 17 mile push to climb up Shay Mountain which we are going to need some juice for.

As the good partner that he is, he agrees to let me get some more sleep so we scout a spot. It’s nestled among a small stand of Junipers close to a ledge. It feels somewhat protected and enough off the trail that we won’t be bothered. This time we change into full sleep mode. We remove our sweaty clothes, put on our base layers, puffies, socks and beanies and tuck into our SOL emergency bivy’s.

It’s not unlike cowboy camping on a backpacking trip, just without sleeping bags, but it stll feels luxurious for this particular set of circumstances. Next to me on the dirt lay my running clothes, water flasks, Kogalla and headlamp, next to that are my shoes and poles and I use my pack as a pillow. Everything is at the ready for when we wake. I pull my buff over my eyes and instantly fall asleep.

Check out Christy’s Stories on Instagram of our Moab 240 2024 Adventure here!

The Moab 240 endurance run was created in memory of ultra runner, father, husband and accomplished 200 mile pioneer Stephen Jones. Stephen was the inspiration for this run as well as the person who first dreamed of a 200 miler in Utah, specifically a single loop 200 miler beginning and ending in Moab. Stephen died tragically in an avalanche in early 2016. The Moab 240 strives to honor his memory and his vision and was created in 2017.

To learn more about this event and others like its, click the link here: https://www.destinationtrailrun.com/moab