How a Week of Ultramarathon Training Actually Feels
Training for a 100-mile race is many things: hard, freeing, beautiful. Wild, raw, emotional. Fun and adventurous. Monotonous and exhausting.
It’s packed with emotions across the spectrum and lessons that can only surface once you’re stripped to your core, after hours alone in your head amidst the uncertainty of the mountains.
I want to start sharing how transformative this sport has been, and continues to be for me, here on my blog. I aim to make my trail stories entertaining and relatable, even for those who don’t identify as an athlete.
After all, ultrarunning, in many ways, is a metaphor for life. Most lessons learned and discovered from this sport have nothing to do with running at all, and everything to do with who I am on the inside.
Why This Isn't Really About Running
After 18 years of running competitively (the last four years dedicated to trail running), and after three mountain marathons, three 50ks, and two 50 milers…
This is the year of my first 100.
This summer, I have an island 50k with my sister, a 40-mile Teton Crest training run, and Bear 100 in the books.
It’s an absolute dream of a year for many reasons. Being selected in Bear 100’s first lottery. Stepping away from my full-time marketing job to focus on training, writing, and limited client work. Getting married and buying a house. Lots of good change, lots of magic, and yet, life is still hard.
Not in a bad way. In an eye-opening way. You can have almost everything you could ask for and feel grateful every day, and yet, you’re still going to feel like a human at your emotional baseline. Systemic world issues aside, once you’ve secured your intrinsic needs, like shelter, food on the table, financial stability, a worthy career, and healthy relationships, changing and obsessing over your external world isn’t going to heal you.
It’s the inner work and compassion for yourself and others that lead to genuine happiness and contentment in your life.
In this current chapter, I feel that I’m set up with an ideal balance of health, happiness, and opportunity, but life still isn’t easy and it doesn’t always feel good. My training is far from perfect, despite the many hours I now have to dedicate to the sport. And my ego tells me I still have a lot of inner work to do.
There’s no better place to mull over my thoughts than the trail, so here they all are — pulled from the rocks I tripped over, the lakes that shimmered up at me, and the trees that shaded me from the heat.
The many thoughts and feelings I experience during a training week, all brought to the page.
Here’s how a recent ultramarathon training week in June felt for me.
Ultramarathon Training Week in My Life
Monday, June 22, 2026Yay! I don’t have to run today!
I’m fresh off a California vacation with my girlfriends. And when I say fresh, I mean truly replenished. It’s been a long time since I felt this energized and alive on a Monday. Time spent with besties in the redwoods overlooking the ocean really did it for me.
Despite how good I feel, I’m not in the mood to slide into my running shoes.
Is running one of my greatest loves in this world?
Yep!
Do I want to run today?
Nope.
So, it’s great that my friend Whitney planned a mountain bike adventure for us. I meet her at The Farm, a nearby mountain bike park I’ve never been to before. I’m still getting to know Davis County trails since moving up here from Salt Lake City in February.
I recently started implementing cross training on the bike once per week in lieu of some running miles. It’s been a great balance for me. Something to look forward to each week and a break from running, while still getting to move my body in nature.
Riding uphill is usually harder for me than running or hiking uphill because I’m not as efficient on the bike. So, we get in a great uphill workout today, pumping our legs in our lowest gears, and cruising (cautiously) on downhill jump trails. Only, I don’t jump; I just roll over the bumps.
Full disclosure: I get a couple centimeters of air a few times.
My favorite thing about mountain biking lately is how much I smile on the downhills. I can’t keep the grin from spreading across my face and I’m vocal, loudly expressing my excitement, surprise, and accidents.
Mountain biking is a great way to connect with my giddy inner child. So, I’ll absolutely be doing more of that in my training weeks to come!
At the end of the day, I'm proud I didn't force myself to run simply because running is something I "should" love. What brings me joy can look different from one day to the next.
Tuesday, June 23, 2026Hot Dog in Smog
That’s what I’ll title today’s Strava run. Rue and I run zone 2 pace for about an hour midday in the heat until we decide, meh, this sucks, because….
We are running in a blanket of wildfire smoke.
With the Salt Lake Valley shaped like a bowl surrounded by mountains, it traps in dust, pollution, and smoke during winter inversions and during summer’s wildfire season — which came early this year after a record-breaking low snowfall season.
The trail running community is on alert for this year’s wildfire season. Many ultra race organizations across the West predict they may have to cancel or reroute courses due to wildfire threats, like they did last year only days before Bigfoot 200. Hi, Dawn. You’re amazing.
It’s June, and Utah’s already experiencing weather conditions typical for mid-July and August.
On today’s run, I let thoughts about climate change wash over me. My chest feels mournful.
While wildfires are a natural and essential process in many ecosystems, landscapes once experienced more regular natural fires, and Indigenous people (who were, and continue to be, knowledgeable stewards of the land) would intentionally burn forests to care for them.
Today's wildfire crisis feels different because the natural cycle has changed. Decades of fire suppression have allowed fuels to build up, most fires are now started by people, our climate is hotter and drier, and we've built millions of homes in fire-prone areas.
As a result, fires are often larger, more destructive, and more dangerous to both people and ecosystems than they were historically.
While I visited San Francisco over the weekend, multiple human-caused wildfires ignited in the Salt Lake City foothills and central Utah. As thousands of acres burned, smoke swarmed the city and Wasatch Mountains. I feel it in my lungs today and experience respiratory symptoms the rest of the week.
In the afternoon, I get in a solo lift at the gym. I typically do strength training twice per week with one or two functional leg movements, like barbell squats or lunges, and two upper body movements – a push and a pull. I’ll also add in hip, knee, or ankle mobility, as needed.
I’ve been intentional about staying functionally strong this year and feel more resilient – I take falls on the trail better, have less overuse injuries, and recover from my occasional back flare-ups in just a few days. Thanks, Coach Nino!
I can’t always choose my conditions, but I can choose how I show up to the trail. I’m glad I got out there, and I’m glad I called it when I did to avoid more respiratory symptoms.
Wednesday, June 24, 2026It’s Race Day
Thunder booms and lightning cracks overhead. The light rain sprinkling over the valley makes my shoulders drop. I love rainstorms.
Hopefully, the rain will quell some of the wildfires and push out the smoke.
And hopefully, we don’t get struck by lightning during our race up at Solitude today.
The parking lot is full of vehicles, but there aren’t many people walking around. We’re told to stay in our cars until the lightning stops, and the race start time will push out until it’s safe.
Once the lightning stops striking, hundreds of rainbow costumes, sparkles, and tutus gather from their cars to the start line against a stark moody mountainous backdrop. As part of the Wasatch Trail Run Series, today’s race is themed “Running Man,” and we’re dressed to party in the rain. A metaphor for life, right? I love it.
I still smell smoke amidst the fresh pines and rain-soaked mountain air, but seeing my friends’ glittering faces makes me forget about the fires.
These races are always a blast! Depending on the race (13 throughout the summer), there are bands and DJs, race photographers, food trucks, picnics, yoga, and dancing. We race, then we party. With an amazing community.
I know many people in this community and see friendly faces at every race. Pushing into the red at a midweek race is not easy, but it’s worth it.
In the past, I’ve shown up to these races with a competitive edge, hunting down friends who are faster than me so they push me to give it my absolute all and PR.
But this year, I’ve taken the intensity down, with the intention of having fun and getting in a solid workout with friends in beautiful places. I’m not PRing this year, and this has been a bit of an identity crisis for me, but I’ll dig into that later.
I’ve really been enjoying these hard pushes on Wednesdays that aren’t so hard that I can’t be mindful of the beautiful scenery. Most of the WTRS races are at high elevation amidst wildflowers, steep terrain, and dramatic mountain views. I’m just soaking it all in this year!
Today, dressed in ribbons, glitter, and a red tutu, I run beneath the occasional rumble in the dark clouds while raindrops dot my skin. It’s so refreshing, and by the time I cross the finish line, the sky has lightened and the trail glows golden-pink against deep green trees.
Some of my friends and I end our evening out at dinner together (still dressed to party and attracting many looks). My heart feels full.
Thursday, June 25, 2026Rest Day = Best Day?
I love my rest days. They’re good for the soul and essential for recovery.
Pushing hard and challenging ourselves is in the nature of an athlete, but I feel like many people (in the trail running community and in American culture in general) struggle to slow down, rest, or prioritize their well-being over training (or working). Sometimes, I wish I could be more like that, more disciplined with my training — I know it requires massive grit and making big sacrifices to be amazing at ultrarunning. But I’m honestly just not one of those people.
I’m not winning any races, but I’ve found a healthy training-work-life balance that works for me.
I usually get between 10–12 hours of sleep on my rest days. My mornings are slow, and the coffee is piping hot. Rest days might look like sloth days with a good book or active rest days, featuring a few walks with Rue.
Today is gloriously sloth-like, with yin yoga to meditate and stretch tight muscles.
Not much else to say other than secretly… sometimes I think I like my rest days more than any other day.
But I know that’s only because pain allows us to appreciate comfort.
Friday, June 26, 2026The Poison of Negative Thinking
Featuring My Ego
I love moving my body in nature with my friends. More than anything in this world, I think that is my favorite thing.
But lately, I’ve been in my head about my pace. I have so many fast friends. Friends with zone 2 paces that match my zone 3 efforts. Friends who want to push themselves while I’d rather stop to smell the flowers. (Like, actually.) Friends on social media PRing their road races at paces I can hardly comprehend.
I’m surrounded by fasties!! At least, that’s what my ego is paying attention to. I am mesmerized by you all. And I’m cheering you on while remembering another version of me from years ago.
Once upon a time, I was pretty quick. At least, I felt that I was quick, and that’s all that really matters here: my perception, my inner world.
Because nobody else gives a shit about my pace.
And anyway, ultrarunning is not about winning or being fast for most people in this sport, and I’ve realized that my ego is still trying to process this fact after nine years as a mid-distance track athlete.
As an ultra endurance athlete, I’m a mid-pack girly. Completely anonymous.
Except for that one time I podiumed at the 24-hour RUFA Grandeur in 2025. ;)
This summer in particular, I’m having trouble accepting “I’m not fast.” It’s silly because speed isn't actually what I’m going for anymore.
My ego feels like a separate person these days.
She is thrilled to push her limits and keep up with the faster runners. I want to slow down and protect my peace.
She has high expectations and obsesses over stats. I want to touch the trees.
There’s a dichotomy within me tearing me in half, and I think I’m actively grieving the fast, competitive version of me. She shows up in peculiar ways, but once I’m through this grieving process, I’ll be tucking her away for awhile.
Presently, I want to move slowly enough to vividly experience the adventure and feel good while I'm at it.
All this being said, today, I’m running to Flag Rock with some of my faster friends. I hadn’t intended on this being a tempo run, but that’s what it is for me. I feel my heart pumping blood faster, I breathe more heavily as my chest constricts, and my ego struggles mentally in silence on the uphill.
I wish I could move at this speed without my heart rate skyrocketing. I feel slow and lethargic. I’m holding people back.
Negative thinking is poisonous. One small thought unravels into the narrative that I'm not good enough. Twenty minutes of comparison is all it takes for me to question whether I can even finish a 100-mile race.
But the thing is…
I never regret a run.
Something good always comes out of every single run.
And today is no different. My friends and I chat about life through heavy breaths. My negative thoughts will transform into therapeutic writing later, and I’ll understand myself even deeper.
Running helps me discover the questions.
Writing helps me understand the answers.
As I fall a bit behind on the ascent to Flag Rock, I push my legs harder to keep up. When we reach the lookout and watch the last pink glow of sunrise spread across the valley, I feel alive. The wind hits my face and my hat flies off my head.
The negativity leaves my body, and I am proud of myself for pushing this morning.
At some point during the run, my friend Dave asks me, “What’s your strategy for Bear?”
He’s run Bear 100 at least six times.
And I answer, “To have a good attitude.”
:-)
I end the day with a strength training session with Nino at the gym and pack up for my long run tomorrow.
Saturday, June 27, 2026This is Why I Trail Run
Cool mountain air awakens my lungs as I step out of the car. After fueling myself with coffee and oatmeal during the drive, Nino and I arrive at White Pine Trailhead. Laura’s already here and ready to go.
The three of us run at a pleasant all-day pace (my favorite) through tall evergreens, surrounded by stunning alpine vistas and lakes, yapping the entire time.
This run is trail therapy at its finest. Laura, Nino, and the trees are safe spaces to speak openly with about everything and anything I’m feeling or thinking about.
I love my trail chats with my friends. I love that we get to move our bodies, work our quads, and leap over roots while we reminisce, vent, laugh, and occasionally cry.
Laura and I split off after Red Pine Lake to run to Maybird Lake, which I’ve somehow never been to before! It’s magical. We sit on the grass at the lake and soak it all in before heading back down.
I take it back. This is better than my rest day.
While we’re up at Snowbird, Nino and I head into the resort for coffee and read our books on a picnic table seated high up in the evergreens. We read until the wind picks up and the clouds darken.
The afternoon rain’s coming in, and I’m at peace.
Sunday, June 28, 2026Story > Stats
A solo run on a new trail with my sweet Rue to celebrate her fourth birthday?
Perfection.
The Sardine Loop up at Snowbasin winds through magical fairy fields with tall grass and the tiniest yellow flowers. I can see far out over the Wasatch and the entirety of the pale cerulean Pineview Reservoir at a lookout near Sardine Peak. At other lookouts, the city wakes up far below and the Great Salt Lake glistens beneath purple mountains on the horizon.
Rue and I stop every couple of miles to drink water, eat our trail snacks, and capture too many pictures and videos of flowers and our cute selves. Her ears flap in the wind, and I quietly watch her explore a rocky cliff edge and peer out like she is genuinely soaking in the beauty of this world.
She hops like a bunny through the tall grass, wades chest-deep into a water hole, and points curiously at a floating stick for a solid two minutes. We listen to the chirping birds and get excited when Nino rolls up on his bike, having rode the loop in the opposite direction.
This experience is everything I love about trail running.
The time to myself in nature.
The admirable mindfulness of Rue, who runs back to check in with me every few minutes. Sweetest girl.
Feeling connected to Earth.
Being viscerally present after having many hours in my head this week to process a spectrum of thoughts.
My mind is quiet today. I am at peace.
I don’t care about pace when I’m in this state of mind. In fact, I care about the Cheez-Its I’m eating at a lookout more than my pace.
I feel confident in this moment that there’s no place I’d rather be than on this trail. And I know deep in my heart that the numbers on Strava are good enough. I am good enough. And my experience at Bear 100 this fall will be everything I need.
The beautiful, messy truth is so clear on this page.
We can observe the numbers on Strava — the distance, elevation gain, pace, moving versus elapsed time – and feel whatever we need to feel about them.
But the numbers do not tell the story.
Our voices tell the story.
And for me, the experience is so much more important than the performance.
The story is why I’m out here.