The Cocodona 250 is a footrace that starts in Black Canyon City, Arizona and finishes at Heritage Square in Flagstaff, Arizona. Stretching across the state of Arizona it links iconic trails and towns along the way. Meandering its way up to Crown King, and then on to Prescott Valley, Mingus Mountain, Jerome, and Sedona before the big final climb up and down Mount Eldon with the finish in downtown Flagstaff.

Official details: 253.3 miles, 125 hour cut off. 38,791’ of elevation gain & 33,884’ of loss. Highest point on the course is 9,241 feet, with the lowest point on the course at 1,996 feet. There are 21 aid stations and 4 water drops.

I have been watching the Cocodona livestream every year since its inception. And while in those early years, I had no interest in participating, in the last few years it has seemed like a better & better idea… After the 2024 race, I had a strong interest, but didn’t sign up until a client talked me into it. I was waitlisted for the 2025 event. As the waitlist leading up to the 2025 event stalled, I made other plans. However, I knew that as soon as registration was open for 2026, I needed to be ready. Fast forward to May 2025 registration opening & I was on my computer with credit card in hand. Within 10 minutes of registration opening, I had my confirmation email, a credit card receipt and was locked in. Later I would learn that so many people attempted to register at the same time that it broke the server and the waitlist was over 800 people long. My flawless registration was the first hint that this was meant to be.

Matt and I took 2 weeks off to drive to Arizona, complete Cocodona & return home. We were joined by the rest of my crew & pacers, Jeff, Amy, Alisha, and Jen. This was truly a team effort and I couldn’t have done it without each of them and their amazing skill sets. This is the story of my race.

Day 1

The race starts at 5am in Black Canyon. I hug my crew goodbye and join the nearly 400 others at the startline. It’s dark enough I have a headlamp on, and the energy is high. On the first day the course is exposed and can be incredibly hot. There is a 25 mile section with a 4L fluid requirement, I plan to carry 6L. The gun goes off and we start like a herd of turtles, shuffling forward. (In my opinion we also look like turtles with our oversized packs on our backs, like a protective shell.) I find myself surrounded by a group of remarkable women who have all completed multiple 200 & 300 mile races (yes, 300 miles!)

If hindsight is 20/20, I probably went out too fast, but the day wasn’t as hot as they had predicted (thank goodness!) and my legs were fresh. The exposed trail was littered with rocks and climbed perpetually across the Bradshaw Mountains. It was incredibly beautiful. I stopped along the trail at one point to move bottles in my pack to make them more accessible and place the empty bottles in the back when a portion of the bungee system that holds my pack closed came undone. I struggled with getting it back together & finally was able to make it work temporarily. The first aid station at Mile 34 was sponsored by Ultaspire - the company who made my pack, so I knew they would be able to help me more when I got there. Upon arriving at the Lane Mountain aid station at mile 34, the volunteers were so helpful & they were able to start to fix my pack. However, upon fixing the original issue, we noticed the pack starting to tear in a way that was not going to be as fixable and would continue to be an issue for the remainder of the race. The Ultraspire reps would replace my pack with a brand new one at the next aid station! I was excited with this level of service & headed to Crown King with a pep in my step. It was a quick few miles of descent into the aid station & I kept scanning the area for Matt, Jeff & our van which would be meeting me here. At just about 37 miles, this was the first crew accessible aid station. I didn’t see them and was escorted into the aid station by volunteers and was greeted by the Ulraspire rep with my new pack. They didn’t have the size Medium of my pack that I had started with, but we figured the small would be ok & maybe even ride better on my torso than what I had originally used. While I waited for Matt & Jeff to arrive, we got all my gear from one pack into the other, I ate nearly 2 pulled pork sandwiches and took off my shoes and socks. Soon Matt & Jeff arrived - the road leading up to Crown King is real sketchy and I could tell Matt was stressed about the van. As I got ready to leave & put on the new pack, it did not fit. Like not at all. Once full of gear, it was way too small. My heart sank.

While packing the van back in MN, I tossed in an old pack, just in case. One I had used plenty of times, but it was showing its age & while it wouldn’t hold quite as much as my original pack, it was a back up nonetheless. Jeff ran back to the van & returned with my old pack. So we pack swapped yet again. This time I had to add a waistbelt to hold more gear & leave with my puffy jacket wrapped around my waist. After more than an hour at the aid station and little extra stress, I was ready to head off into the first night by myself.

Into the Night

When I was finally ready to leave Crown King at Mile 37, I knew I would be moving into the first night alone. Future nights I would most likely have pacers with me, so I was a little nervous heading out. It didn’t take long before I came up on another runner named Daniel, and we struck up a conversation. Night fell and we traveled along a 2 track road which felt endless. I wasn’t exactly sure how many miles it was until the next aid station, in my head I thought it was maybe 8 miles… it was 14… We were joined by another runner named Laura and the 3 of us spent these long miles sharing stories and getting to know each other. I am so grateful for their company during this stretch. It truly made those miles more enjoyable.

At the Arrasta Creek aid station, mile 51, I enjoyed some solid food, a brief rest & a bathroom break. The “bathroom” was not exactly what you’d imagine. I asked a volunteer where the toilet was & they pointed me around the backside of the aid station tent to this tiny little 1 person tent over a 5 gallon bucket. Yep. A bucket. Not a fancy portable toilet or pit toilet, a bucket. Whelp. Here we go!

When I was ready to leave the aid station, my new friend, Daniel, joined me & Laura said she’d “catch up.” For the next section we’d heard rumors of a big climb. We continued on the gravel two track road we’d been on and it started to climb. It was not overly challenging and we remarked on how it “wasn’t so bad.”

Soon we turned off the two track road onto a single track trail and started climbing. I found myself leading the way up the climb. A few other runners joined us as we climbed. And climbed. And climbed. The trail wove its way up the mountain and around - the wind was whipping and the temperatures were all over - in the wind, it was so cold, but as soon as you went around a bend it was warm. It made it hard to adjust layers. I was in shorts but had pants in my pack. I had gloves and my down jacket. But I was climbing with this long line of runners behind me. The trail continued on relentlessly upward. I was fading. With my poles in each hand, pulling me upward, and my effort level climbing, it was hard to try to think about eating. I finally pulled over to let someone else lead the climb. I tried to hang on to the back of the group as they went by, but I had burned too many matches already. I was starting to feel like garbage.

Miles started to take longer to complete - 35 min mile, 38 min mile, it was so slow. And I was all alone. I just wanted to get to the next aid station where I had planned to sleep, but the course was proving a point. Nothing is given. That sleep would be earned. Once off the singletrack, the course went upward yet again across what looked like an old burned area with no protection from the whipping wind. Looking up I could see the lights of the other runners high above me. The footing was old branches and loose rock that made it hard to make forward progress. I stopped and put on my long pants as I was now freezing. My hands were numb & everything was harder and taking longer than it should. I knew I needed calories, but nothing in my pack was going down well. I just had to keep moving forward, no matter how slow.

Eventually I made it to Kamp Kipa where I would be taking a longer break and attempting my first sleep. I enjoyed some hot food, a real bathroom and found a cot in a bunkhouse where I laid down to rest. Once I laid down, I started shaking. Just this uncontrollable shake. While I wasn’t warm, it wasn’t shivering per se. This was a full body shake. I went on to simply call this “the shakes,” as it would be a constant part of the rest of the race.

After laying down, and shaking, for 25 min I got up & headed back into the main aid station for more food & to start to make my way onward. It was 3:30 in the morning and I had one more aid station before meeting my crew at Whisky Row.

I left Kamp Kipa feeling better and made my way to Camp Wamatochick as the sun started to come up. At Camp Wamatochick, I found another real bathroom & ate some hot food. I left the aid station with the excitement of night one behind me and the anticipation of seeing my crew. It was a new day!

Day 2

I texted my crew when I left Camp Wamatochick, and enjoyed some easy, mostly downhill miles toward Whiskey Row. These miles passed with the anticipation of seeing all of my crew. While I had seen Jeff & Matt earlier at Crown King, Alisha & Jen hadn’t arrived until after I started the race on Monday morning. I would be joined by Alisha for the next pacer section out of Whiskey Row.

I beat my crew to Whiskey Row, so I sat in the aid station and ate a cup of oatmeal. 20 minutes later the crew showed up & I walked to the van which was parked a short distance away. Energy was high among the crew & I rested in the van for a little while before gearing up for the next section.

It was 9:40am on Tuesday when Alisha & I left Whiskey Row en route for Watson Lake 7.2 miles away. Most of this section was on sidewalks through town, and we were surrounded by other runners. We were riding high on new day energy and excitement. Just about 2 hours later we rolled into Watson Lake aid station. The day was heating up.

Alisha & I in the Watson Lake section. PC A. Wilde.

Alisha and I continued out of Watson Lake. We had another 13.7 miles together in the heat of the day. This section starts out across an out of this world section of boulders in what is also called the Granite Dells. It is beautiful, but challenging to traverse. The trail can be a little tricky to follow, but we eventually made our way to a long stretch of rail trail. In an attempt to move efficiently we alternated running & walking intervals. The sun was hot overhead & Alisha noted the backs of my calves turning red. I shrugged it off & we continued to push onward. We eventually came into a city (Prescott Valley, I think) and we were both desperate for a bathroom. We followed the course markings down the sidewalk & we scanned all the neighborhoods for any sign of a bathroom. A biffy, a park, anything. At one point we came across two people out for a walk, and they asked us what was going on. We explained the race & then asked them if they knew of a bathroom nearby. Fortunately they pointed us toward the town pickleball courts a few blocks up (and along the course!) Thank goodness!

After the bathroom & another seemingly long section of busy roads we came to the infamous Fain Ranch section. Miles and miles across shadeless, flat cow pastures. Rickety A frame ladders were placed over the barbed wire fences so we could climb in & out of the pastures as we crossed them. My high energy from earlier in the day was sapped by the hot sun & the skin on my legs now felt like it was on fire. Getting in enough calories was proving to be challenging and my pace slowed dramatically. I was so tired. This section was endless and of course the aid station was not at all where I expected it to be. It was so much further.

I staggered into the Fain Ranch aid station on fumes at 5:00pm. I needed food & I needed sleep. Luckily for me, I got both. Food first, then a 2 hour nap in the van with my weighted blanket. Then it was going to be time to head out for night 2. As I prepped for moving into night 2, the crew surprised me with a repaired pack! They had put there collective skills together and managed to fix my original pack!

Night 2

After being quite cold on night 1, I layered up more for night two. We would be climbing Mingus Mountain and I didn’t want a repeat of that first night. Jen & I headed out together as the sun started to set. It was 10 miles to the next aid station at Mingus Mountain. This section started out back across more cow pastures and more rickety A frame ladders, then down a stretch of gravel road before turning off onto a single track trail. The trail climbed and we found ourselves joined by another runner. My climbing skills paid off here and we passed a group or two of folks on the climb. We eventually arrived at the aid station sometime in the middle of the night.

Real life aid station vibes. PC A. Wasson.

Once at the aid station it was time to get some food in. Eating/getting enough calories would prove to be a constant battle as the week went on. This aid station in particular had lasagne and I tried to get a few bites down. Eating was such a chore. But it was my lifeline. I was finding myself “outrunning my calories.” I needed to get in as much as I possibly could.

This aid station had a fun diversion with the “Mingus Basketball Association,” sponsored by the Distance To Empty Podcast. This was a chance to make 3 baskets on the basketball court that you passed by to win prizes. I haven’t touched a basketball in decades, so this would be entertaining. I tried my 3 shots & while I didn’t make a single basket, I at least hit the rim each time! What a fun way to bring some energy to the middle of the night.

Jen & I headed out into the night for another 17 miles to Jerome.

Day 3

The descent out of Mingus Mountain was notorious for its technical, rocky, narrow trail. Miles and miles of rocks greeted us as the night wore on and a new day dawned. As the sun started to come up the most amazing sunrise illuminated the mountains. At one point we paused to eat some food & take in the sunrise. It was so beautiful. After sitting on a hilltop clearing watching the sun come up, I had this incredible urge to call my Dad. It was about 5am in Arizona, so I knew he’d be up by now in Michigan,with the 3 hour time difference.

On March 25, I received the worst phone call of my life. My Mom had passed away in her sleep, just over a month after we celebrated her 80th birthday. My world came crashing down. In the weeks after that, it was trips back and forth from Minnesota to Michigan, planning and executing her celebration of life, and then when that was over, finally thinking about Cocodona.

For reasons unknown to me, I love the sunrise. I love them so much,I named my business Sunrise Fitness. The sunrise is my favorite time of day, and on this particular morning, with the sun illuminating the mountains around us, I had to pause and soak it in. And call my dad. He answered right away. After a few questions about how it was going on the trail he mentioned that that day would have been his & Mom’s 59th wedding anniversary. I had forgotten (2+ days on the trail will do that to a person) but calling him was the most important thing I could have done that morning. I know that I had a little nudge from an angel that day.

And then I kicked a rock. Like really, REALLY kicked a rock with my left foot. I looked at Jen & she looked at me & she said, “you know that was your Mom.” And I laugh because I DO know that was my Mom. She always had issues with her left foot. And now, my left foot was going to be an issue for the rest of the race.

Jerome and Beyond

A while later Jen & I arrive into the town of Jerome. I was struggling to get enough calories while on the trail again & needed a short rest. The sun was up in all its glory & it was going to be a warm day.

I took a bit of time here to reset & get ready for the heat of the day. I would be heading out with my next pacer & run coach, Jeff. My heat allergy was in full force, covering my legs from thighs to feet. My left big toe was turning shades of purple under the nail.

This section wasn’t real long at just over 8 miles, and we would be crossing the Verde River. Highlights include a very sketchy, steep descent with loose rock & broken glass, a few road miles through a cute town & then the river crossing. I have never looked so forward to stepping into a river as I did that day. Truly, running water in the desert is amazing. I took a few minutes to stand in the thigh deep water and cool my legs. Absolutely heavenly. When we arrived at the next aid station, there were massage tables set up & I was able to get a 15 min massage. This was so great! Thank you to the volunteer massage therapist for being willing to touch this grimy, dirt covered body. That was incredible.

Alisha & I would be leaving this aid station at mile 132.9 for a long 27 mile stretch together without access to crew. We would see them again in Sedona, but first we had to get there.

I had rough sections and lows prior to this, but these 27 miles really got me. What I found so interesting was the vastness of this course & landscape. You could look around and see for miles - you could see where you had been and where you were going for miles into the distance. Even from day 1, you could look across the Bradshaw mountains and see the lead runners way up ahead, looking like ants marching across the landscape. From the cow pastures of Fain Ranch, you could see Mingus Mountain & know that at some point you were going to be up there. Under the cover of darkness you could see headlights way up high in the distance, so far away & up so high that you thought they might be satellites, only to realize that that was where you, too, needed to go. These 27 miles were no different, many of them hot as we moved through the middle of the day and into the evening. You could see the red rocks of Sedona in the distance, but you didn’t know how you were ever going to get there.

I thought of my Mom a lot during this section and was caught off guard by the tears and emotional toll that took. Crying in the desert is not helpful when you are battling for enough fuel & hydration.

We had 1 aid station that we hit as the sun went down which I had packed a drop bag for. When we finally arrived, I was depleted of calories and it was likely going to get cold as we moved into the night. Alisha & I took our time here, making sure we did what we needed to do to be ready for the next section. We still had 12 long miles to go before we’d see the crew.

We left that aid station in good spirits. It was completely dark. Those lights dancing up high in the distance gave us clues to where we were going. We moved forward, but my body was not liking this at all.

I frequently found myself moving incredibly slowly and my body shaking. I struggled to get in deep breaths to calm my nervous system. Alisha kept encouraging me to eat & to breathe. Taking in a deep breath was nearly impossible. The heaviness of my pack felt like it prevented me from expanding my diaphragm to get enough oxygen. I was spiraling. The trail kept climbing and felt like it was going in circles. The miles seemingly took forever.

I saw hearts in many things in nature while I was on the trail. This cactus was too perfect to pass up.

I bet this was a beautiful section. We ended up on some single track trails leading into Sedona. There was a water stop about 5 miles before we saw the crew. I remember sitting on a rock falling asleep while Alisha filled my bottles. We eventually came out on a paved road in Sedona. I was so hopeful about the aid station being close by. It was not. Paved road after paved road before we saw the signs for the aid station, but even then, it felt like it was miles away. I desperately wanted to sleep.

We finally arrived at the Sedona Posse Aid Station, mile 159. The previous 27 miles took us 13-14 hours. It was now the middle of the night/Thursday morning. I had gotten through the 3rd night on the trail. My crew allowed me to sleep here for a couple of hours. The next section through Sedona & the infamous Hangover Trail would be up next.

Sedona

Jen & I left the Sedona Posse aid station together with 17 miles ahead of us before we could see the crew again. This section includes the Hangover Trail, a 12 mile section of exposed slick rock with steep sections that require hands on rock scrambling. One post race internet review I found on the trail seems the most accurate, “steep drop offs make this unsuitable for those with fear of heights.” While I don’t think I have a fear of heights, this trail was no joke. Couple that with 160+ miles on my legs, sleep deprivation, heat & trouble getting in enough calories & you have a recipe for another very challenging section.

After slowly navigating the Hangover trail, we move onto a very rocky 4x4 jeep road that climbs as far as the eye can see. I’m very low on fluids and there is an unmanned water station coming up, but we’re just not sure how much further. Jen had packed extra water during this section & we used it to wet the sleeves of our sun shirts for added cooling. This was so helpful. I found that if I could keep my body temperature just a little lower I could eat better. The hot sun continued to cook my legs and my left foot continued to find many rocks to kick. We started to meter our water as we climbed to keep from running out completely.

At the top of the climb, we found the water station. I don’t have a picture of it, but imagine a giant water bottle on legs with spigots at the bottom that you could fill bottles from. Other runners were pushing it to one side to get the last of the water out of it. It was nearly empty. Jen & I each filled 1 bottle, we still had another 5 miles of exposed road before the aid station, but we wanted to make sure there was enough water for others. We found a shady spot to sit and briefly reset. Fortunately for us as we waited a truck with a water trailer showed up to refill the station. The volunteer allowed us to fill all of our bottles and we even took off our shirts & soaked them completely. That felt amazing. We were rejuvenated & ready to continue on.

The next 5 miles was a rolling gravel road without too many rocks. The water truck passed us a few times on the way & each time allowed us to soak our arms. These were the best miles I have had in a few days.

I arrived at the Schnebly aid station in good spirits. The next section I would have to do alone, so taking time here to reset was going to be imperative.

My crew brought me a bunch of food that I happily ate, while we washed my feet & tried to cool down my legs. Another change of socks & little time to elevate my legs was very helpful. It was late afternoon when I headed out for the next 14 miles by myself.

Solo Miles and Managing Expectations

I left the Schnebly Hill aid station feeling happy. I put on headphones for only the second time during the race and was looking forward to a little time by myself. I set out along the gravel road, and I could see a few folks ahead of me & a few folks behind me, but no one close enough to buddy up with. I was ok with that. I had cell service, so I decided to call my brother & check in on the home front. I enjoyed chatting with him & he encouraged me to also call my niece. So another quick phone call kept the miles clicking by. After the two phone calls, I found that I was running out of service, so I switched over to playing my downloaded music & fell into a rhythm of moving efficiently. It wasn’t fast, but I was moving. In my head this section was a loop. I know it wasn’t but for some reason it felt like I was going in a circle. Towards the end of this section, my phone alerted me to text messages & I had enough service again. My friend, Kari, sent me an encouraging message, so I opted to call her. It was refreshing to chat with her & I shared with her my excitement for getting into the next aid station. The sun was setting and I was looking forward to a nice long rest. I might shower & even wash my hair, I said. Plus, I was going to sleep for like 3 hours! We hung up & I made my way the last few miles to the aid station.

It had just gotten dark when I arrived at the aid station & Matt was the only one there. He told me that I could rest for 90 minutes before Jeff would be here to pace me for the next 37 miles.

90 minutes?!! What about my 3 hour nap? And washing my hair??? It was Thursday night, my hair hadn’t seen a shower since Sunday. I was stunned. I was also exhausted. I tried to eat some food & crawl into bed. I fell sound asleep.

60 minutes later, I was being awakened. It was time to move. Jeff was here & we needed to go. If we shortened up the sleep now, I could have more time later to rest before the final solo section at the end of the race. Ugh. It was so hard to get going. I was so tired.

Another night and sleepwalking

Jeff & I left the aid station. I was moving, but I didn’t have much in the tank. We stopped a few times to adjust gear & I struggled to find a rhythm. It was challenging to eat the food I had in my pack. The sports nutrition that was easy to carry and digest was creating new problems. Pallet fatigue, mouth sores & painful teeth from all the sugar was starting to take its toll. I could sip on my carbohydrate drink or eat one flavor of gel, but nothing else was working. I could no longer eat anything sweet that required much chewing. I kept saying I was giving myself a cavity. My teeth were so painful.

So between the trouble of getting in enough calories to fuel my activity and the sleep deprivation, I was fully seated on the proverbial struggle bus. It didn’t take long for my body to start to fall asleep while I was walking. Staggering with my eyes rolling back in my head, I knew I needed to stop. My first dirt nap was inevitable.

A dirt nap is literally where you lay down on the side of the trail for a quick nap. Jeff said I could take 5 minutes. I laid down on my side, rested my head on my arm & promptly fell so deeply asleep I started to dream. Jeff gently woke me up & we moved on. I felt better. It did reset my brain. We were able to move a bit more efficiently for another period of time before the sleepies came back. A second dirt nap was needed. Another 5 minutes on the side of the trail, sound asleep. I rallied again and we kept moving. I was still struggling, so I linked arms with Jeff, that way I could walk with his support while momentarily closing my eyes. This 12.7 mile section took us nearly 6 hours before we arrived at the Kelly Canyon aid station. There is no crew access here, but Jeff took great care of me, while I nodded off to sleep in a folding chair.

The horizon was just starting to get lighter as we left the aid station. The magic of sunrise helped put a little pep in my step, plus knowing I could nap in the van at the next aid station, kept me motivated. Oh, how I couldn’t wait to nap in the van under my weighted blanket.

Fort Tuthill

It was nearly 8am when Jeff & I arrived at Fort Tuthill aid station, mile 211. All of my crew was there & Alisha told me I was going to sleep in the aid station.

Wait. “No. I want to sleep in MY van,” my tired self whined.

“No, you’re sleeping here - there’s a zero gravity chair, you’ll nap there,” Alisha announced. There’s not enough time to sleep in the van. It’s parked too far away.

Much to my chagrin, I did sleep in the chair. 30 minutes, covered in down jackets, sound asleep. With enough sleep deprivation, I guess you can sleep anywhere.

Jeff & I had one more 16+ mile section to cover together & the sun was already high in the sky. It was going to be a scorcher.

I was still very tired. I was still struggling to get enough calories to move efficiently. My heat rash felt like someone took a lighter to my legs anytime I was in the sun. I continued to kick rocks & my left ankle & foot were starting to noticeably swell larger than my right leg. We had another day of mostly full sun ahead of us and 16 miles without crew or even a water stop.

I’m not sure how I got through it. Jeff was incredibly kind and patient as we wandered slowly down the trail. I kept fighting tears. I was hot, tired, and frustrated. Frustrated that I was unable to move better. Frustrated that if I tried to run I would overheat & run out of energy. Frustrated that this trail seemed endless. I knew this is what I signed up for. My logical mind & my emotional mind were fighting each other. Logically I knew I was tired, this was going to be a hard race, I signed up knowing the course would test me. Who would I be when things weren’t going my way?

I never once thought about quitting. Not even here when time slowed with exhaustion. We were within striking distance of being finished. It was Friday & I had to be done by the following day at 10am. I knew I would have time to rest before the final solo section. I just had to get there.

It seems like I rolled into the next aid station feeling a little better, everyone was there & in good spirits. I had one more “short” section with Alisha, an unassuming 7 miles, before I had to finish up this race alone. Maybe it was just the “light at the end of the tunnel,” that this would be over soon. Maybe it was Amy reading & rereading the entire stack of notes my clients had written me. Whatever it was, Alisha & I were excited to knock out this section.

Mount Eldon in the distance. One final mountain to climb.

2 hours later we arrived at the Wild Cat Hill aid station mile 234. I was going to eat & sleep before embarking on the final 18-19 miles that I would complete alone. This next section would take me up and over Mount Eldon at over 9000’ elevation. I needed to be as fresh as I could be for this final section.

The final sections

3 hours and 20 minutes later, I left the final crewed aid station at mile 234. It was 9:40pm. It would be 15.3 miles before the final aid station. When I left the aid station, I ran into my friend, Suzy, coming in. I was so excited to see her. She was looking great & I had no doubt that she would finish (side note, she went on to finish as the final official finisher looking so incredibly strong.) We exchanged hugs & I continued on towards Mt Eldon.

Leaving the final crewed aid station for the final miles by myself. PC M. Leis.

The course continued to show me where it was going to go - I could see runner’s lights in the distance, high up on switchbacks ahead. As I climbed I could see the lights from the City of Flagstaff below. It was a beautiful night.

The trail climbs up and up, and I was actually grateful to be doing this in the dark. Had I hit this in daylight, I’m sure I would have been cooked as there was not much tree cover. I eventually made it to the very top of Mount Eldon & was curious how bad the descent would be. Rumors made it sound like it was very technical and challenging with tons of rocks. This was all true.

As I started to make my way down the mountain, I found that the technicality of the trail was very similar to the Superior Hiking Trail - lots of big rocks, and I was comforted with my ability to navigate this type of terrain.

But Cocodona was not done yet. Immediately after thinking “I’ve got this,” to myself on the descent, I hit loose rock & my feet slipped out from under me. My hiking pole snapped and I hit my elbow hard on a rock as I landed on my butt. I paused and assessed the damage. 1 broken hiking pole, a sore elbow, but nothing else broken. I figured I’d just use the one remaining pole but after a few switchbacks I found this to be more of a nuisance than a help. So I stowed my poles in my pack & carried on using my hands on rocks for balance. It was slow going. The sun was coming up. This section was taking forever. I had eaten all my food, and was down to one small bottle of water. I was going to be hitting that last aid station on fumes.

I started doing the math and that last aid station should have been about ¾ of a mile away. I saw someone coming towards me & she said it was ¼ mile away. I was skeptical. I was also completely out of fuel. A few minutes up the trail there were 2 gels laying neatly on a rock. I looked around. There was no one there. These had clearly been set out on purpose. Trail magic. I took 1 gel & sucked it down. Thank you to the universe, I was desperate for those calories. That final aid station was of course much further than my trail math or the other person’s math shook out to be, but like all of them, I made it eventually. Cocodona was continuing to prove its point.

After a brief reset at the final aid station, I was ready to knock out the final miles. I knew my crew and the livestream would be there once I hit the paved streets of Flagstaff. This last section flew by. Not because I was moving any faster, but my brain seems to be on fast forward as I think back about it.

Seeing my crew at the edge of Buffalo Park was a welcome sight. Matt was on Facetime with my Dad, Alisha was doing a Facebook live video, it was a lot. At one point I was like, “Too much! Too much!”

Finishing it up with my crew! PC M. Leis.

Those last few miles were such a treat, I walked with my crew & then at the final turn, I jogged down the alley to the finish line. 122 hours and 49 minutes later, I was a Cocodona 250 finisher!

Final thoughts

Cocodona, like life, is a journey. You know where you are starting from, you have a sense of where you are going, but you don’t know exactly how you will get there.

Sometimes you have to walk alone in the dark, and trust that the sun will rise again.

Trail magic is real.

The important people in your life will be by your side whether in life or in spirit.

Call your parents if you can.

Thank you for following my journey whether with the tracker, live stream or just reading this race report. Thank you to Aravipa running for a great event, all the volunteers & the cities we passed through. I hope to come back one day & explore those areas again (but not during a race! haha!)

My crew. Love this team so much! PC Scott Rokis.

And most of all thank you to Matt, Alisha, Jeff, Amy & Jen. Without you, this would have only been a dream. Thank you for making it a reality. I could not have done it without each of you.