Imagine studying for months for an exam. On test day, every answer feels effortless. You walk out of the room with a big smile knowing you nailed it. A few days later you get the news … it didn’t count. You forgot to put your name on the paper.
That’s sort of how my 2025 Grindstone went.
The alarm on race morning went off at 3:50am. In the dark hotel room, I quietly slipped into my Janji tights, ate a bowl of rice with some soy sauce, and drank some electrolytes while Felicia and Dakota did their best to keep sleeping. My parents were in town for this race and so my Dad picked me up a little before 5 and we drove through the dark and rolling country backroads to the start line.
I remember having a slight smile as I walked into the starting chute. I felt loose. Confident. Calm. As they played the National Anthem, I replayed all the hours I’d spent over the last few months getting to this point. I felt a sense of gratitude for arriving healthy and with the fitness needed to have a really great day.
The first handful of miles were smooth out of the campgrounds, through rolling country roads, then up into the mountains located just outside of Mt. Solon. At Wolf Ridge and then the Sand Spring aid stations, I refilled bottles and kept moving. I felt incredible and by mile 21, I add settled into a great rhythm. My legs felt strong. My fueling plan was dialed and working as planned. I was somewhere in the top 20.
I couldn’t have asked for a better start to the day.
Leaving the Sand Spring aid station at mile 21, I followed the white course markings down a long gravel service road and onto some single track. My watch said I was on pace and that the next aid station was at mile 25 … where I’d see my family for the first time. The GPX file on the watch face showed I was on course as I hit some rolling hills. Somewhere along this single track I had a couple of the 50km leaders pass me in almost the same place they had the year before.
But then the miles started ticking by. I hit twenty-five and was now out of water and gels. Then mile twenty-six... where is the aid station? Twenty-seven…. Finally, I saw tents up ahead and felt some relief as my crew would be waiting.
Only… it wasn’t the North River Gap aid station like I was expecting... It was Lick Run #2. The mile 60 aid station!
When one of the volunteers said to me “You’re at the wrong aid station”, my stomach sank... I immediately knew what this meant and it was the type of mistake that completely wrecks your day. I’d need to backtrack to get back on course. However, this wasn’t me going a mile out of the way. I’d need to backtrack another 7 miles, putting me at a 15 mile roundtrip wrong turn.
I couldn’t believe it. I’d been following the markers all morning. Yet here I was, miles off track. What the hell happened?! Where did I make a wrong turn?! Nothing was making any sense to me.
I turned and pushed back toward the ridge as anger and disbelief filled my mind. Months of preparation, all slipping through my hands because of one missed detail. A lapse in focus.
After backtracking for close to 90 minutes, I hit the gravel road where I should’ve gone straight. Earlier when I made that turn, I was in no-mans land on this long stretch of gravel road … no runners in sight up ahead and a gap of roughly 60 seconds behind me. Now, where the gravel road and single track meet there were volunteers, signs, and cars were in place … none of which had been there hours earlier when I first came through. That was the mistake. That was where it all unraveled.
Adding to the confusion was that my watch GPX file showed I was on course, because technically I was. Later in the race, runners make their way back through that part of the course as they approach the final miles of the race. The view I had on my watch wasn’t the navigation specific view because I didn’t think I needed it… the course flags were well spaced and visible.
By the time I stumbled into North River Gap at mile 25, I had 40 miles in my legs but only 25 that officially counted. I was wrecked. I had about ten minutes until the cutoff, and nothing left to give. I tried to push back out, but the tank was empty.
My race was over.
This sport is hard, especially when you approach a race wanting to get the most out of yourself like I did at Grindstone. To come into the race with great fitness and with a nutrition plan that had been put to the test in some of the most rigorous conditions over the months leading in, only to come up short due to a wrong turn is a really tough pill to swallow.
I’m ultimately proud of the way I approached the process of training for Grindstone, and even for the way I battled through the realization of the wrong turn on race day.
In the weeks since I’ve laid pretty low. Doing my best to recharge the batteries a bit. Spending more time at home with family.
It’s been a good change of pace.