Prologue — The View From Hanging Rock

My body was destroyed.

We had just climbed to the top of the road heading toward Hanging Rock. I was somewhere around mile 316 with nearly 45,000 feet of climbing behind me, and my entire world had narrowed down to one simple thought:

Warm mashed potatoes.

Warm MOMI coffee.

That was all I wanted.

The storm we had just pushed through had drained whatever reserves I had left. The cold rain had soaked through me, my energy was gone, my blood sugar was crashing, and the willpower that had carried me across West Virginia was starting to disappear.

Everything in my head came crashing down at once.

The fatigue.

The pain.

The doubt.

The overwhelming desire to just be done.

But then I looked around.

My crew was there.

They were smiling.

Laughing.

Joking.

Doing what they had done for nearly six days—giving me pieces of themselves when I had nothing left to give.

They encouraged me, filled me back up, and somehow pushed me back into the storm.

A half marathon remained.

Thirteen miles.

It sounds simple when you say it that way.

But at that moment, it was going to be the hardest half marathon of my life.

5 miles in, when Aaron told me to stop, my first instinct was to keep moving.

I didn’t want to stop.

Every part of me wanted to put my head down and grind toward the finish line.

But I have known Aaron for over a decade, and every time he has ever told me to stop or do anything, he has been right.

He paced me through my first 100-mile race.

He has been there through countless miles and countless moments.

He has always had my back.

So I listened.

And for once during that entire journey, I stopped trying to force the moment.

I looked up.

And there it was.

The most beautiful sunset I have ever seen.

It almost took my breath away.

Sitting on the southern ridge of West Virginia, staring at my home state before heading to Virginia. 

For the first time in days, I wasn’t thinking about the finish line.

I wasn’t thinking about the pain.

I wasn’t thinking about the miles left.

I was just there.

Standing on a mountain.

Seeing my friends silhouetted against the horizon, preparing to lead me through the final miles of a journey that had changed all of us.

The wind moved through me.

The mountains stretched endlessly below.

And something inside me cracked wide open.

The world looked different.

That moment wasn’t about an FKT.

It wasn’t about a time.

It wasn’t about a record.

It was about realizing how much had happened to get me there.

The people.

The sacrifices.

The miles.

The moments when I almost broke and someone else carried me forward.

That sunset will be etched into my soul forever.

Because I didn’t find what I was looking for by reaching the finish line.

I found it when I finally stopped long enough to see what was around me.