Running has always been more than a sport for me. It’s a ceremony, a prayer, a source of healing. Growing up, I watched my father, a runner himself, inspire me with stories of running to visit my mother from town to town in moccasins. These early influences rooted running deep within my spirit, connecting me to my heritage and my community.
Fast forward to 2023, I found myself at the starting line of the Javelina Jundred, an ultra trail race held annually in Arizona around Halloween.
This was my second attempt at the 100K distance, the longest race I’ve ever attempted. I first tried in 2022 but didn’t finish, so this year was about redemption.
It was about proving to myself that I could conquer this distance, despite the physical and emotional hurdles that awaited me on the course.
The First Loops: Heat and Mistakes
The race starts with three loops, the first being the longest at 37 kilometers. Arizona’s sun was blazing, making the first loop a brutal battle against the heat. I came into the aid station drenched, my body drained from the relentless sun. And to top it off, I had made the rookie mistake of wearing shoes that weren’t broken in properly. My feet screamed in pain with each step, but I wasn’t about to give up.
As night fell, so did the temperature. I went from overheating to freezing, unprepared for the dramatic drop in temperature. It hit me hard, especially after dousing myself with ice to stay cool earlier in the day. By the time I reached Jackass Junction, the halfway point of the second loop, I was emotionally and physically wrecked. I tried to warm up in the medical tent, but nothing seemed to help. That’s when I made the heartbreaking decision to pull out of the race. My body was cold, my feet were blistered, and mentally, I was defeated.
The Power of Community
But the beauty of the Javelina Jundred, and running in general, is the community. Being part of the Native Women Running team meant I wasn’t alone, even in my lowest moments. They were there, offering support and encouragement at every turn. Javelina gave our group a place of honor, positioning our tent close to the start/finish line—a gesture that reflected their commitment to diversity and inclusion in the running world.
Even though I didn’t finish the race that year, I left feeling supported and inspired to return stronger.
Redemption Year: Overcoming Challenges
Fast forward to 2023, I was back. This time, I had my eldest son with me.
He had never run before but had started training just to pace me on the final loop. Leading up to the race, I had a lot of doubts—especially after suffering a severe ankle sprain only a few months before. The injury left me sidelined for eight weeks, and I wasn’t sure if I’d even be able to race.
But I stayed determined, did everything I could to heal, and showed up in Arizona ready to face the challenge.
During the race, after each loop, I rested, iced my ankle, and elevated my foot. It was a slow and calculated process, but I wasn’t about to risk pushing too hard too early. I remember thinking, “This is a second chance. I’m not leaving without finishing this time.”
Facing My Darkest Moments
On the third and final loop, my son joined me. By then, I was utterly exhausted. The desert night felt endless, and at 85 kilometers, I hit my lowest point. My legs felt like they couldn’t move another inch. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I told my son, “I’m so tired.” His response? “Do you want to quit?”
His tough love was exactly what I needed. I snapped out of my self-pity and pressed on. Together, we ran through the final kilometers as the sun began to rise, bringing a new kind of heat. With every step, I got closer to the finish line, but also to my redemption.
Crossing the Finish Line
The last kilometer was the most emotional. Tears streamed down my face as I approached the finish line, the realization of what I was about to accomplish finally hitting me.
I had done it.
After a year of preparation, healing, and learning from my mistakes, I crossed the finish line, my son by my side, and my community cheering me on.
The journey was never just about running 100 kilometers. It was about reconnecting with myself, my community, and my culture. Running continues to be a space where I find healing, strength, and purpose.
And after this race, I know there is no challenge too great when you have the support of those who believe in you—especially when you learn to believe in yourself.