It was the middle of the night Friday. Amy and Lisa were deep into their race, at the point where all of the training and all of the racing had cumulated into a moment of truth. They’d been climbing uphill for miles, with three miles still to go until they reached the top. They were hurting, but resolute in their goal. While we waited for them at the aid station, a woman held court in a camping chair near the quesadilla station. She was laughing and talking with her friends, clearly enjoying the early fall night. It was impossible not to hear the conversation. After some time, we learned she was a runner who dropped from the race. You’d never have known of what must have been deep disappointment from the fun she was having. At one time we heard her shout “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not sober” to the man making the quesadillas. We all cracked up. The aid station crew had Fireball and she was nursing a beer while she talked. We should all be so lucky to face our great disappointments surrounded by supportive friends and strangers, with a shot of Fireball and a cold beer under the stars. It reminded me of everything I love about ultra running.

Amy planned for this race for months. A hundred-miler has been on her radar for a few years, and I always expected to crew for her when she finally toed the line. It was a tremendous bonus for me that Lisa was running too, and that I’d be crewing with several of our friends. Although it’s been several years since I’ve been able to chase my own running goals, crewing this weekend reminded me how much I love this sport and the people I’ve met because of it. Eight years ago, I joined a Runner’s World forum about the Boston Marathon. I was just looking for information about navigating Athlete’s Village and perhaps a recommendation about hotels. I never expected to find my people. I lurked for a few months before getting the nerve to post myself, but engaging that first time introduced me to a fabulous group of imaginary friends and led me to accomplish more with my own running than I ever thought possible. Seeing “normal” (I use this term loosely – I love you weirdos, but you are not normal) people accomplish extraordinary things was incredibly motivating and redefined what I expected from myself.

So fast-forward eight years and there I was crewing my friends in a hundred-mile race in western Virginia. Even if I can get back to regular training and racing, a hundred-miler has never been a goal of mine, but I LOVE crewing. I love supporting my friends in accomplishing big, hairy goals. We all got into town early evening Thursday and quickly got down to the business of getting everyone ready to run Friday morning. Unrelated to the race, but significantly for me, I started working with a new dietitian a few weeks ago, and was at the beginning of a Whole30. I prepared extensively for traveling and crewing, and felt prepared to take care of myself while we took care of our friends. Resolving my digestive issues is the next step in getting back to my own training and racing, and spending the weekend with my friends only reinforced how much I miss it.

In the dark of early morning on Friday, we drove up to White Top for the start of the race. It was misting, but gone was the heavy rain of the last few days. Amy and Lisa planned to run together for as long as it made sense, which meant we’d be able to see them both at aid stations. They took off down the mountain and we were off. Crewing involves a lot of hurry up and wait. Rushing from aid station to aid station, stopping for food and gas as needed, but always working to stay ahead of your runners. It didn’t take us long to fuck up, as barely a quarter of the way through the race we missed them by minutes at the Alvarado aid station. Fortunately, that was the only blip, but it meant that both Amy and Lisa were out of fluids for a few miles. The lesson for future crews – always switch out the hydration bladder, just in case. The day flew by and I managed to stay on my food program, with eating a tuna packet mixed with guacamole while everyone else ate pizza being a highlight of the day (go me).

At about halfway through the race, the rain of the last few days caught up to Lisa, with her asthma and allergies rearing their ugly heads. The clouds burned off, making it quite warm. With a spontaneous onset of IT band syndrome, she wanted to back off the pace, encouraging Amy to go ahead without her. We sent Amy off with Harry to pace her, and helped Joe look after Lisa. As badly as Lisa felt, between her allergies and bum knee, her attitude was remarkable. She appeared to be unaffected by the circumstances, committed to adapting her goal and still finishing the race. Witnessing her calm focus was a highlight of the weekend, and something I hope to emulate. We runners say it a lot, but our sport truly is a perfect metaphor for life.

Our runners persisted on through the night, with the crew napping as we could. Harry paced Amy, and I walked six miles with Lisa, wanting to spend some time with her before the gap between her and Amy grew big enough where we wouldn’t see her as much. After Harry, Troy took over pacing duties, and then Audra for the homestretch. The hours and hours in the car on mountain back roads took their toll on my stomach, handing me the worst case of motion sickness I’ve had in years. My Whole30 came to an abrupt end overnight, when I ate some potato chips in hopes of calming my churning stomach. They helped, as they always do. I felt badly about letting go of my own priorities at first, even with as sick as I felt, but quickly let that go as I was there to support my friends, and my being incapacitated helps no one. I knew I’d need to look after Amy once the race was over, and needed to not be bed-bound myself. Restarting a Whole30 on Monday was a good compromise, I just needed to get through the day.

Just before 6:30a, Amy and Audra came into the finish area, still in the dark of early morning. Knowing how long she’s chased this goal, how hard she trained, how well she took care of herself all summer, I teared up watching her finish. Standing there with my friends who’d come from all over to support Amy and Lisa, I marveled at how we were all here because of one little now-defunct forum on the Runner’s World website. I was reminded of what we can accomplish when we surround ourselves with people who believe in us, who can push us forward when we doubt ourself. And what a wonderful thing it is to contribute to the success of someone else.

On the tail end of a two-week period that seriously felt like a decade, I savored those four days with my friends. After fourteen days where many women were retraumatized thanks to the news coming out of Washington, my batteries were recharged experiencing the best of humanity at Yeti. Women supported women, men supported women, men supported men, women supported men. Running ultras really is a metaphor for life…train and prepare as best you can, don’t go it alone, chose your crew wisely – pick people who will hold you up when you can barely hold yourself up, ask for help and tell people what you need, modify goals as needed, celebrate success, rest when you need it. And in my case, sometimes you just have to start over. I started another Whole30 today, and feel very confident that I’ll finish this one. Repeating Week Two of Claire’s 12-week program isn’t the end of the world, it’s not even a setback.  It’s an adjustment to changing circumstances, adapting to the environment. I’m excited to see where the next ten weeks will take me, and what I’ll be able to accomplish when I’m healthy. I’m going to box up the inspiration from the weekend and hold onto it tightly. Grateful for the reminder of what we can do when we chase big, scary goals and surround ourselves with people who believe in us even when we are filled with doubt.