Runner: Shelly Robillard
Distance: 50 miles
Race: Run Woodstock
Terrain: Trail
Placement: Last, 8 seconds before cutoff

Shelly's Story

This was by far the toughest thing I have ever done. I used more mental mantras and pulled from a deep place I didn't know existed.
I signed up for the 50-mile race at Woodstock. There was skinny dipping on Saturday night, discarded clothing on the trail, and giggling girls in the bushes. I was awakened at 2 a.m. by a group of overzealous dancers and drinkers, and then I lay awake for two hours, willing myself to sleep.
The course on race day morning was muddy due to large amounts of rainfall. It had rained through the night and rained the first two hours of the race.
This was the type of mud that almost takes your shoe off. The few hills on the course were difficult to maneuver in the clay mixture. I was trying to hang on to trees while climbing, and I was loving it.
When I made it to the aid station, I didn't see my crew. I found out later that they missed me because I ran faster than they predicted. I headed back into the woods and eventually got to a road. I saw a sign that pointed into the woods and one that pointed left. I didn't even pause or question the signs-I jumped back into the woods. But I was supposed to turn left.
After a while, I started seeing the same things twice. Like the pair of black gloves lying in the road, and the fence on the right side. I ran out of water and was concerned that I hadn't come to the next aid station.
I knew I had made a mistake when I arrived at the same aid station I had just left. The aid station volunteer consulted his map and I learned that I wouldn't save any distance backtracking. So I went back out into woods. I had added 4 miles to the course, but I tried to put that out of my mind.
I saw a fellow runner who asked if I was on my second loop. I would be running three loops in total. I told him "No, I took a wrong turn," but I was going to keep going.
I saw other runners I had been keeping up with, but they were now on their second laps. I started to get discouraged. I had been running this loop forever and not seeing any progress. It didn't seem to end.
I started feeling nauseous and dizzy. The drink I took at the second aid station was not agreeing with me and dehydration was catching up to me. I finally made it to the next aid station and opted for water only. I had about 4 miles left to finish the first loop.
The crowd was thin at this point and I started feeling really depressed. I walked and contemplated what I was going to do. I did not feel good and I would have to run two additional 16.6-mile loops, which sounded impossible.
I couldn't will myself to run and thought about dropping. I was mad at myself for taking a wrong turn and feeling like garbage. Maybe this wasn't my race.
I kept weighing my options over and over in my head. I wanted to drop like nothing else. The previous day my friend Jesse had to tell the race officials he was dropping and said the worst part was admitting it. I jokingly said, "Yeah, it's kind of like breaking up. Nobody wants to actually say the words out loud."
Did I really want to say those words out loud? I wasn't injured, so I felt like I couldn't. Did I feel nauseous enough to drop? Oh, the internal struggle!
As I was battling my own thoughts, I saw two familiar figures: my husband Jason and my friend Jeremiah. I was so excited to see them. I told Jason I wasn't feeling well and heard crickets. Damn! He wasn't going to make this easy for me. I made a few other comments about not feeling well and going off-course. Again, more crickets.
I made a deal with myself. I would go to the start/finish, change my shoes, eat something, and see how I felt. If I felt good, I would continue on.
When I made it to the start/finish it was a huge boost to my well being. I heard several people shout my name and cheer me on. I changed my socks even though I knew they would get wet again. I ate salted potatoes, M&Ms, and a GU packet. I was starting to feel better.
I headed out on the second loop before I changed my mind. My mental strategy was to get through this loop by myself and run the last loop with Jason. I knew running with him, I could get through it.
Mentally, I started feeling really good and I was running well. The mud and water were even more fun the second time around and I got to the first aid station all smiles. I was really happy with my decision to continue on. I had my second wind and was going to finish.
In the next section, I fell apart again. I was feeling rough. Going through that section reminded me of the additional miles and messed with my psyche. It wasn't pretty, but I powered through this section and back to the start/finish line.
Here, Jason told me about the cutoff times. I knew I had 16 hours to finish the race, but I didn't think I would need that much time. With the additional miles I had added, I had to be aware of the cutoff.
The first half of the last loop went well. I kept a decent pace and was on track to finish within the cutoff. I told Jason to talk to me as a distraction. At the second aid station, I was feeling rough. My body ached and my feet hurt. I had roughly 8 miles to go and I was going to need every ounce of mental strength I had.
Jason told me I was doing well mentally. So what if I was fine mentally? I still hurt a lot! I was not very good company. Jason was smart and either kept quiet or said the occasional "I know," and kept going. I was far inside my own head, trying to will myself to move.
We made it to the final aid station and were still concerned with cutoff times. Jason's plan was to have one friend walk in front and another friend to walk behind to hopefully get me to walk faster. At this point, there was no running happening.
These were the longest 4 miles of my life, hobbling through those woods. But I knew I was close and soon I could stop. When we got to the top of the hill, I knew it was only a few hundred yards to the finish. Somehow I managed to pick up my feet and run. I ran into the finish!
I could finally stop! I ran in with only 8 seconds to spare. I was dead last and it felt awesome. I don't need to justify being last or even worry about it. I am very proud of myself for finishing and being able to get past that initial blow of going off-course. I did it.

Runner: Jose San Gabriel
Distance: 100 miles
Race: Tahoe Rim Endurance Run
Terrain: Trail
Placement: Last, 26 minutes before cutoff

Jose's Story

The Tahoe Rim Trail is known for being tough, due to the high elevation and the summer heat. As 106 of us gathered at the start line, I was very thankful to be there. After months of training, it was time.
I began at an easy pace, to ensure I felt good at 7,000 feet of elevation. Fortunately, the first mile was flat and allowed me to focus on the challenges ahead.
After the first climb, I downed some snacks and proceeded with the first run of the infamous Red House loop, with its steep descent. Fortunately, the loop did not feel as difficult as I remembered.
Once I got back to the aid station, I fueled up well. Because of permitting issues, the old section to Mt. Rose aid station from previous years was no longer part of the course and was replaced with a 9-mile section from Bull Wheel to Diamond Peak. That was a big concern, since I had not trained on the new section.
I had heard that the return climb from Diamond Peak to Bull Wheel was a beast, and that it would make the Red House loop look easy. Once I started the climb, it didn't look all that bad. But this section had a few false peaks, each of which was followed by a turn and the start of a steeper climb. Then another false peak, then another, even steeper climb!
The footing was very sandy, which made it even slower. Most of us would stop under small trees to catch our breaths, and then continue. The climbing seemed to take forever. It was two miles and about 1,800 feet of non-stop climbing. It made the Red House loop look like child's play.
I ran into Bull Wheel aid station and rested for a few minutes. I was only 32 miles into this thing, and I needed to recover. I continued and made the return trip back to Tunnel Creek, where I got weighed in. I was down a couple of pounds, and was cautioned to continue to eat and drink to avoid losing too much weight.
I started the climb toward the highest point on the course, Snow Valley Peak aid station, at nearly 9,300 feet of elevation. This was tough, with much of the climb without shade during a hot portion of the day. I was happy I didn't get an elevation headache.
On the long descent toward Spooner Summit and the start/finish aid stations, I was feeling hopeful. I would be reaching the halfway point of the race right on schedule at about 15 hours. That would give me a little cushion for the second, 50-mile loop.
It was almost sunset at this point, and many people were there cheering. 50-milers were finishing up, and we 100-milers were ready for a bit of rest and fuel, before the second half started. The 100-mile runners were allowed a pacer at this point for the final 50 miles. Well, I didn't have one! So I started the second half of the race alone.
I knew that I had to be mentally tough. This was the same 50-mile loop I would be repeating, but now I had to get through it with no sleep and no pacer, without getting lost and/or missing the race time cutoffs.
All was well until the second trip on the Red House loop. I took the descent nice and easy in the dark, lighted only by my single headlamp. It was much cooler now, and I was getting somewhat sleepy.
I got lost for a short time on the loop, but I stayed calm and back-tracked to where I had been. I made it to the Red House aid station. I finished Red House, then reached Tunnel Creek aid station. I drank some Starbucks Double Shot and Ensure, then resumed.
The climbs and descents to Bull Wheel and Diamond Peak seemed to take forever, now that it was pitch black. I was concentrating hard to find the course markers and avoid falling asleep on the trails. When I saw the first signs of sunrise, I perked up and started to sprint. I was now chasing race cutoffs!
I looked at my pace chart, which I always write on my left arm in Sharpie. It said I was getting close to the Diamond Peak aid station cutoff. I continued to sprint hard, but carefully.
I reached the aid station just before 7 a.m. on Sunday, thinking it was only seven minutes before cutoff. But since my pace chart writing had smeared, I found out that I had a 37-minute cushion.
With a renewed sense of confidence, I left for the second beastly climb to Bull Wheel. The second trip was better, even after 80.3 miles. It was much cooler and I knew how slow the climb would be. It took me an hour to get to the peak.
I reached Tunnel Creek, and then Hobart. I felt intact. I was happy to see the volunteers at both aid stations. They all said I was looking strong, which meant I looked better than I felt! I drank some strawberry smoothies, thanked the volunteers for being there, and took off for Snow Valley.
Upon reaching there, the Boy Scout troop was already starting to pack up. I was very thankful to still be going and knew that I just had to keep moving to get to the finish. After the final weigh-in (I was down six pounds), I started the long descent to Spooner Summit aid station, the final one before the finish.
The descent seemed to take forever. My feet were feeling every step. Then I got lost a few more times. Some of the trail mark ribbons were spread out, and I had to stop and go back and forth to make sure I was on the right track.
At 3 p.m., one hour before the final race cutoff and less than a mile from Spooner Summit, I got lost again. I told myself to calm down and continued looking for the course markers. I saw two hikers and asked for directions. Then I took off sprinting, with time getting short.
At the next aid station, I spent no more than one minute. One of the volunteers called the finish line on her cell, "The final runner is coming in." Hearing that was great!
I continued on, alternating between running and power walking, constantly catching my breath. I made the final turn, saw the finish line and yelled, "Is that it?"  I crossed the finish line with only about 26 minutes to spare before the final 35-hour cutoff. I was so relieved. I had somehow finished a tough race without a pacer.
I was the final (60th) finisher out of 106 starters. I was so happy to get my finisher's belt buckle. I was thankful to God for giving me the strength to do what I love, and for everyone's support and encouragement. I was happy to get back to the hotel and call my family to let them know that I finished.
Runner: Suzy Gutierrez
Distance: 100 miles
Race: Chimera Mountain Race
Terrain: Trail
Placement: Last, 40 minutes before cutoff