I Ran 76 Miles On The Track In 17 Hours.

Friday May 29th, 2020 4:28 a.m.

With so much crazy stuff going on in the world right now, sometimes the only thing I know how to do is run around in circles.

I signed up for the Orchard Street Runners 100 mile global running challenge on a whim after running a few spontaneous solo marathons during the COVID shutdown. After running my first sanctioned marathon last December, I began toying with the idea of covering more than 26.2 miles in a day — or dipping my toes in the world of ultra endurance. This virtual event seemed like the perfect excuse to take a stab at something new. With my job on hold, it’s not like I had anything else going on.

So, I got started yesterday morning at exactly 5 a.m. on the McCarren Park Track near my home in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. There, I was determined to really spill my guts.

For the the first 10 miles as the sun began to rise, I was blessed by the presence of an ultra marathoning legend, Zandy Mangold. (Check out this article about Zandy in National Geographic) Zandy had taken a break from his busy life as a new dad to drive all the way down to Brooklyn to hand off a few items he knew I would need as well as the mental support.

Seeing him there on the bleachers gave me a boost which was the perfect way to kick off the day. He snapped off some pics and shouted out some cheers.

When Zandy left, I was then greeted by my very first coach I met in 2016, James Chu. James had introduced me to the running community in NYC back when all I ever knew was running on my own, oblivious to all the different teams and races out there. Seeing him and sensing his excitement gave me sudden burst of energy to pop off those first 20 miles of my adventure.

Zandy Mangold shooting me around mile 5.

I thought how ironic it was: How back in the day when I first knew James I avoided the track like the plague, opting out of the workouts he had prescribed saying I'd do them my way on the treadmill instead... But there I was alongside him, devoting my entire being to the track. It felt somewhat spiritual, or that things were truly coming full circle.

It wasn't long before I had crossed the first marathon mark. A quick shoe change and some ice dumped down my sports bra, and I was back at my steady state pace. It was about 33.3 miles in, I said to myself, "I've got this."

The first 50 miles (or about two marathons deep) were nothing short of exhilarating; I was living for every mile clocked off. I was way ahead of my planned pace because I was riding the high of all the friends coming sporadically to watch or run a few laps with me.

But as I had been warned by the ultramarathoning greats, nothing is a given in the world of extreme distance running. When my spirits started to flicker, I saw someone speed walking towards me on the track. It was Mary Harvey, another one of the few people I know like Zandy who has a few 100 milers under her belt. She began to give me a quick pep talk.

Mary giving me words of wisdom.

Mary handed off apple sauce and almond cocoa bars and told me these worked really well for her and to eat even if I wasn't feeling hungry given the distance I still had to go. "Drink when you're not thirsty," she advised and told me some of her stories of going into the pain cave during her ultra. She said that my head would start to go in some really weird places and she was right.

As soon as she had to get back to her job my confidence started to flip. Just as I was getting to the hottest point of the blistering day I was rolling into mile 60. I could feel myself began to deteriorate under the beating sun and humidity. This is when hydration became impossible.

Every sip of NUUN, Maurten 320, water, Coca-cola, or pickle juice that I took came right back up. My black running shorts were coated in white grainy salt that I had sweat out, and my stomach was in knots. My mental strength began to wane.

A Viking Warrior Banana to give me strength when I needed it the most.

But then, more people kept coming to cheer me on. A German girl I'd met on Instagram named Sam showed up with a banana she'd written VIKING on the peel. I knew I had to keep pushing, and she circled a few laps with me. Then a few teammates, Amalia and Alexandra showed up and said, "We can help you for a few laps," and I let their upbeat chatting distract my tummy.

Things got increasingly more rough, but I kept moving. Then, at mile 70, one of my teammates from Nike Project Moonshot, Elizabeth, showed up like an angel. She ran beside me carrying a brown paper bag and said, "Don't talk, just go!" She began to pull out an entire bodega's worth of items including ginger ale, an electrolyte drink, Pepto Bismal and Tums. She also had me suck on an orange slice. "I brought cookies, do you want a cookie?" she said. She gave everything to my crew in case I'd need them later.

Then, there was a torrential downpour. The rain cleared off the track, and distracted any bystanders as I began to puke my guts out. Rounds and rounds of heaving and clenching my abdomen trying to stay standing. I finished the first round of purging every last drop of liquid I had consumed and head back to my lane, only to slow down after a few strides, drop down to my knees and lay on the soccer field for about 10 minutes before my crew realized. I looked up at the sun and saw the outline of three figures looking down at me.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Hearing that I had to show I was still in the game. Before I knew it, I was up and bolting down the lance like a race horse.

I felt like I was running for my life.

I thought about a lot of things as the day turned to night. My deceased father, smiling down on me as I played some of his favorite tunes on my headphones. I thought, "Dad's here watching me, I can feel it."

Every lap I logged towards the ends was met with cowbells ringing as my teammates cheered me on. Ben Chan, who was the third ultramarathoning royal of the day showed up. He camped out and made a Zoom call so other people from the Brooklyn Track Club could tune in.

My body started shutting down in a way I've never felt before. The throwing up felt satanic, and I looked around wondering if I was actually going to make it. I knew that I had to call my mom, and hear what she thought I should do.

She told me to try but she also said it wasn't worth, like dying or anything.

So, at mile 76 I realized I’d reached the point on no return and needed to call it. But my heart was so full of gratitude for the support.

Stopping my watch for the first time all day at 76 miles deep was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I knew I’d be able to live to fight another day instead of die trying.

In a daze, when I returned home and lay my head down, my mind was racing. I didn't know if I felt proud of defeated, I was just happy to be horizontal. I cried a little with the last drops of energy I had. I hadn’t run 100 miles in a day but I had run the furthest I ever have in my life. I was so grateful for all the support that got me as far as I did manage to go.

Images by Ashley Gilbertson, Zandy Mangold, Alex Marcinkiewicz, and Steven Rojas