Western States Endurance Run. The oldest 100-mile trail race in the world. It famously started as an endurance horse race. Then in 1974, Gordy Ainsleigh thought he’d do it on foot instead. This race report may take as long to read, as it took to enter!
Western States captured my imagination in 2015, right after I finished my first 100km. Little did I know it would take ten years of entering the lottery to get my chance to toe the start line. On paper nothing about the race suited me. It’s hot, and with a net-downhill profile, involves a LOT of running to make the 30-hour cutoff in Auburn. Still, it was on the bucket list.
Every year I religiously followed the elite race; first via twitter updates from irunfar and then with the advent of an amazing livestream, I caught glimpses of the famed trail. In 2018, I bought a light race shirt… because I might get in the next year. In 2023, I ran Broken Arrow 46km, located at the start of Western States… because I had started to lose hope. In 2024, I did The Canyons 50km because… at least I could see the last 8km of the course. I was never getting into this bloody thing!
Having such a long on ramp for the adventure, I wondered if racing it would be an anti-climax. Western States is famous for the history, the heat, the huge volunteer workforce (20 volunteers per runner), and the fact that you can have pacers and crew galore! Spoiler alert—the race is worth every drop of hype!
I finally got that lucky entry. Multiple friends and Mum immediately volunteered to join the fun. Sharing it with Mum, Nikki, Tanya, Erika, Jeff and Damien, amplified what turned into a spectacular race for me.
Honestly getting the entry ticket was intimidating. On Western States weekend 2025, I sat on the sad bus at Lavaredo Ultra-Trail because I was cutoff at 30km of the 120km race. My long history with puking/fainting/losing my s*%t had led to my second DNF. Was a decade of waiting for my Western States chance going to end in that same devastation?
Thanks to strong encouragement from Toy and Boyd Martin, I set about finding experts to address the Pukey Pukerson issue. First Vic Johnson (Mountain Sports Dietitian). I asked him on a January 1st discovery call ‘do you help normal people?’ Probably should have led with ‘do you help non-elites?’ Then a referral to Nickademus de la Rosa (Lightfoot Coaching Sports Psychologist) to see how he could assist. Then Kam Harder (Ridge Athletics) to make my haphazard approach to strength, more disciplined. These three gentlemen have changed my enjoyment of the sport, and I could not be more grateful.
Fast-forward to three weeks before the race. I headed to Auburn to do itty bitty recces of a few aid stations that were easy to access. You get a concept of how big the race is when the server at the Auburn sushi place looks at your shoes and asks what number you are so they can track you on the app.
The trails were scenic and I considered turning my social media into a strictly wildflower account.
I met so many generous people—non-runners Nola and Bob who live at the finish line and lent us chairs and a cooler. Jenelle and her friends from Truckee who adopted me on a recce run at Palisades Tahoe and dispensed invaluable advice. A Michigan Bluff local (town of approximately 8 houses), who showed me his two buckles!
The second week, part of the Dream Team arrived (Nikki, Erika and Tanya). We did a recce to Rucky Chucky with a bit of a navigation blip and an extremely refreshing dip. Ignore the photo of calm, floating Nikki, she loves an icebath.
We met the Greengate Aid Station Captain who informed us his aid station was the best and he could put our socks in the dryer midrace! I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I was ever-hopeful I would be moving too well to wait for a dryer at 129km of the race.
Off we went to Palisades Tahoe where there was much celebrity-spotting and some ‘right is right’ driving practice for Nikki and Tanya.
My celebrity highlights were Jessie Diggins – Cross-country Skiing Olympic Gold Medallist, Caitlin Fielder – Kiwi gazelle, Killian – GOAT, and Chris Myers – Western States podium. The girls crushed their scenic Broken Arrow races, and we even had time for a beautiful Shirley Canyon exploration run and a visit to the lake.
Race week arrived and so did Toy Martin. A last aid station recce with Nikki and Mum to Robinson Flat, where I discovered that while the brochure said it was the end of the high altitude, trying to run short efforts felt quite unpleasant. A good wake-up call that this adventure was not going to be a cakewalk.
My last shakeout Friday morning in Olympic Valley was magical. Megan Roche (SWAP podcast host/all-round top running celebrity) stopped and chatted when I smiled. Bib pickup was an EVENT! Photocall, insane race swag and getting a ‘Here for the women’s race’ shirt from Corrine Malcom. I was impressed how the race organisers greeted the ‘normal’ runners with rockstar treatment, just like the elites. I’d actively avoided reading about the elite race to keep myself calm. It was weird being the most uninformed I’d been in a decade, while seeing them all strolling around.
Weather forecast was the topic du jour at the Race Briefing. Everyone was certain it was going to be freezing. The Race Director recommended starting with a jacket but noted ‘This is America, so you can do what you want!’ Nick pointed out I would probably still feel hot at some point. Nick was right. Jeff and Damien, my Canada friends met the Aussie crew and there was nothing left to do but run from Tahoe to Auburn.
Race morning and I tried to action all the work I’d done with Nick to stay calm. The Dream Team were all on board with my determination to focus on the mantras ‘You’re doing your best’, ‘Hard is expected’, and return to a feeling of ‘blue/green smooth river through a forest’. Any time I felt ‘bushfire orange’, the colour I associate with puking/fainting, I was going to consciously adjust back to blue/green by any means necessary. I even painted my nails to remind me! Out of context, this all sounds a bit wacky, but for the first time in many years thanks to Nick and Vic, I truly had confidence I could handle whatever was coming mentally and physically.
At the start there was a lightshow of all the runners names projecting on the mountain. Crazy seeing my name in lights. Trying to keep the feeling of ‘low stakes environment’ had a snowflakes chance in hell!
The first ‘section’ of the race is High Sierra. Approximately 50km through stunning mountains. Whoever said Western States is a non-technical, downhill race may have had amnesia on this section. Thanks to advice from Alan Wheat, Jenny Morris and Tall Geoff, I was prepared. The wind was wild and dust was flying. I had my sunnies on, even though it was dark at 5am. Through the famed Emigrant Pass and I practised putting on my ‘iridescent bubble’ to move through the crowd (a Nick technique to avoid hyping too much with a cheering crowd). I noticed some judgemental thoughts of ‘I’m with slow people who are taking photos’ and actively changed the narrative to ‘this is your current best’. Sandwiched in a pack with a few women, an energetic, glittered lady said ‘ok ladies, there are only 23% of us, so let’s make sure we all finish’. Absolutely loved the sentiment.
Over to Lyon Ridge (16km) where Majell Backhausen asked me how it was. ‘Breezy and great’, I replied.
Then across to Red Star (25km). A few hundred metres before the aid station a man with a walkie talkie called out my number. Into the aid station and there was my ‘helper’ with my dropbag open and ready! A huge highlight of the race; at every single aid station without crew, a specific volunteer greeted you with a joyous “Brook #165, I am your person. What do we need to get you here?” They walked you through the aid station filling bottles, getting food, sorting ice. It was extraordinary.
Leaving Red Star I gave myself a little pat on the back. 25km down and not a hint of fainting or puking.
Into Duncan Canyon (39km) and it was chaos! Loud cheering in a confined space. My lovely volunteer threw ice in the bandana and out I ran. One minute later, the bandana pulled on my throat and projectile puke. Dammit, I hadn’t put the ‘iridescent bubble’ on before the aid station. The best thing though, I immediately had a plan of action. Hike two minutes. Compassionate hand on stomach (another Nick trick that had been working well in previous races). And I was back to smooth blue/green running.
Coming into Robinson (49km) and I was really looking forward to seeing the Dream Team. It was the smoothest aid ever with each person having a task. Mum said ‘now onto the Canyons’ and I hiked out with Tanya reminding me ‘3 soft flasks from Last Chance, these are the next 5 aid stations until we see you again’. I felt cool and happy. Did I mention I was hot enough for ice in hat, bandana, sleeves, bra and pack on this very cold year?
The middle ‘Canyons’ section of Western States is 50km from Robinson Flat to Foresthill. Off I ran to my first canyon. And I ran and I ran and I ran. Then I had a bit of puke. Then I ran and I ran.
A friendly face at Dusty Corners (61km). Jeff was there and I tried to calmly ask ‘where are the bloody canyons?’ Apparently, I’d forgotten the memo about the ‘runnable half-marathon’ before the canyons even though I am sure Alan warned me! Through another lovely aid station where a young girl had my dropbag. She was very smooth and smiley. And I ran and I ran.
Finally, into the Devil’s Thumb canyon and the trail was steep, technical and had a fine talcum powder dust on shiny rocks. The dropoff on the side sharpened my focus dramatically. I kept thinking thank goodness I am not on a horse going down this. I passed runners and quietly sent a thankful thought to Kam that my quads were still firing. The further down we went, the more concerning the other side of the canyon looked. Previously the drawn profile looked steeper than reality. Now the reverse profile/reality mismatch. Across the valley looked like a vertical wall!
The climb was not pretty, but I doggedly stuck to ‘Hard is expected, this is your best’. Aid station volunteers were coming down the trail to shepherd us into the high aid station with an enthusiasm that was not reflected in my running companions. The top had shellshocked runners strewn on the ground.
Into the second El Dorado canyon and I felt like I was in a western movie. Dusty, hot and a chatty man from Boulder shuffled behind me saying he didn’t have the legs to pass. The bottom of the canyon and I hit a trail I had seen! Knowing it was less than 5km to the Dream Team kept me moving with purpose. Also, some significant chafing in the nether regions was drawing me to Michigan Bluff Skinslick like a siren call!
Michigan Bluff (89km). Skinslick applied. Naked juice attempted. Naked juice returned to the grass. I felt calm. I asked if Nikki was pacing me (she was allowed to if it was after 8pm) but she said ‘no, it’s not 8 yet so I’ll see you at Foresthill’. To give you a concept of how much I lose track of time, it was 5.33pm! The Dream Team were doing a super job of keeping the focus on smooth blue/green effort with no focus on time/splits and it was really helping.
Into Foresthill (100km) and Erika ran alongside me for about a mile into the aid station sending info on the phone for what I needed. ‘Skinslick, skinslick and a bit more skinslick!’ I also warned her we might be hiking a bit once she started pacing at Rucky Chucky. She pronounced, ‘I love that for us’, which made me giggle.
Foresthill was genuinely fun (even if I look like my head is in my hands)! Mum, Jeff, Tanya, Erika, Nikki all there smiling. I thought it would be dark when I got there, so the sun still being up made me happy. Off Nikki and I trotted. I told her I hadn’t been able to eat/drink much for a while, but the months of work with Vic practising shotting gels on every hill meant I was 100km into the race with way, way more nutrition onboard than I’d ever managed before.
The plan was to run smoothly for as much of the 25km descent to Rucky Chucky as possible. Off we set, racing the sunset. Nikki told me my Sauna friends had been checking in, as had Alan and Jenny. She caught me up on the race leader drama. She thanked me for running fast enough that she saw some of the trail in the light.
I was trying to do the ‘compassionate hand/shot gel’ technique but was having little success keeping much down. I still wasn’t panicked. ‘Hard is expected, you are fine’ was repeated aloud over and over. Nikki kept reassuring me ‘you are moving great, just like Saturday long run pace’. The tendon on my left foot was getting pissy and then a stick stabbed me. I planned to loosen the shoelaces at the river once we were off the extended descending.
The thing that started to crack me was the volunteer that kindly said ‘5 miles’ to next aid. Now I know 5 miles is about 8km, but my brain latched onto that 5 like its life depended on it. Longest extra 3km of my life! We had to get the headtorches on just before Peachstone Cal-2 aid station.
I was trying to nibble one vanilla cookie at each aid station. There were a few pukes but they were mercifully short-lived. I told Nikki, ‘I don’t want to focus on time, but can I make it under 24 hours?’ She assured me if I didn’t let it spiral, it was possible. Having that carrot to keep trying to eat something/anything was helpful.
Into Rucky Chucky (125km) and I look worse in the photo than I felt! I took one vanilla biscuit and one chip for the road.
Erika started her pacing shift and she really drew the short straw because her first 40 metres included a chest deep swim in effing freezing water! The volunteers were out in the river, and we had glowstick necklaces put on in case we washed downriver in the dark. Easier to spot the body!
Hold the rope with two hands they said. No shit Sherlock! There were glowsticks in the river rocks helping us see where our feet were going and the current was strong. At one point it got very deep and I pushed down on the rope trying to keep my body out of the water. In the process, I accidentally dunked my fearless pacer. Sorry Erika!
Out of the river and I couldn’t feel my very white hands. A volunteer handed us a fresh rolled up white towel. Top class service all the way at Western States. And guess what happened to the vanilla cookie on our midnight swim!
Up a 3km warming hill to Greengate (128km). I felt rough and told Erika I needed a ‘reset hike’, whatever the hell that is! Fingers were still very white, but I didn’t feel cold.
From Greengate to Quarry Road was a blur, but I had more focus than normal at 125k. I remember Germans chatting behind us, but they never passed. Erika was my personal cheerleader constantly reiterating smooth/blue/green. I was extremely non-communicative. She made me laugh when she said she felt like David Roche telling me how awesome I was doing. Honestly it was very fricken helpful. The pace was fading but the mindset to keep trying to run was firmly intact. I was trying to ‘swish and spit’ the skratch drink to make my brain think it was getting some sugar. It felt like it was working.
Then a moment of concern. We were meant to be 600m to the Quarry Road aid station. I’d not seen any pink markers, and it was silent and pitch dark. Erika’s watch was happy, but I was worried. A minute later we rounded a corner to a huge music/lightshow aid station. Scott Jurek was there taking my soft flask and surreally telling me I was on 24-hour pace. I asked if he was sure. ‘Yes, if you keep running’. Who was I to argue with a 7-time race winner.
He grabbed Erika and said make sure you turn left in 2 miles (the famous turn Jim Walmsley once missed while on course record pace). I ducked into a portaloo and asked Erika to hold my one chip and half a rice ball. When I exited the portaloo, she looked a bit horrified. She asked if I’d given her a chewed-up sandwich! We left with me cackling away.
As we climbed to Pointed Rocks, for the first time, I was strongly focused what the time was. I started to get nervous that the silver buckle (a sub 24-hour prize) was slipping through my hands. My legs were refusing to move faster and Erika calmly reminded me ‘keep doing your best’. Tanya, Jeff and Damien were at the aid station, and I asked Jeff if he thought we could make it. He was confident and we waved goodbye to Erika, Tanya and Damien.
Only 10km to go but my legs felt like lead. My brain was still ok and Jeff took up the cheerleading. Repeatedly, he told me I was running strong (friends are the best liars). When we came up on someone he’d call out from behind me ‘passing on the right’…..oh crap, ok we are passing. A hike and Jeff said ‘good reset…. ok let’s get back to blue/green/smooth’. We turned left onto No Hands bridge and I couldn’t believe how much my legs did not want to turn over.
Onto the climb to Robie Point and I was worried I was holding people up. Jeff assured me that they were fine and I was climbing well (liar)! Peter Scott, fellow Aussie flew past, but I didn’t recognise him. And then Robie Point where Nikki, Tanya, Erika and Damien were all there to do the last 3km with us. I felt like I was moving through molasses, but everyone seemed sure we could make it.
Left turn at the white bridge and suddenly I felt like I was flying. I am sure my running companions could attest otherwise. Past Nola in her driveway cheering me on a stupid o’clock! And onto that track lap that seemed extremely long.
Crossed the line to hug Mum and became an emotional mosh pit. Magda Boulet gave me my medal. I swear I was a lot happier than the photos depict.
23hrs39min. 25th Female. 122nd overall. Got that Silver Buckle and super fun finisher shirt. Ran close to a 2-hour miler PB.
We headed back to the track for the famous ‘Golden Hour’ where everyone cheers on the last official finishers getting in before the 30-hour cutoff. It was uplifting to witness the joy of the finishers and heartbreaking to see those just outside the time. A lot to take in on one hour of sleep!
Deeply grateful for the extraordinary level of support from the Dream Team, my coaches, friends and family. Mum, thanks for holding the towel for over a decade of this mad sport and thanks for your genetics.
10 years was worth the wait!
Photo credits: Toy Martin, Nikki Burke, Erika Brann, Tanya Carroll, Jeff Grant, Jenelle Potvin
Brook Martin 