The Cocodona Connection
Tales from pacing 257 miles of racing.
Huge thanks to COROS for sponsoring Trail Mix this month! I became a COROS fangirl when I had to get a watch for my PCT run and needed something with a battery that could hang for such long, long, long days on trail. And holy moly, COROS batteries can hang. I recently climbed a big mountain, went on a real long run, went for a few weekday runs, and then climbed another mountain, all without popping that thing on a charger and it still had juice for days. I have the APEX and dig it and its battery life very, very much.
It was 4am and Shelby was swallowing back a whimper.
She was 218 miles into the inaugural Cocodona 250 – and she still had 39 miles to go before she reached the finish line in Flagstaff. Which, is not a short distance on fresh legs, never mind limbs that have run over 200 miles nearly nonstop.
Her feet were covered in blisters thanks to trying to ice her inflamed ankles by stuffing cubes down her socks. “It felt really good for my ankles, but never again,” she winced.
And her bottom lip was on fire with a Grade XXX sunburn. Salty bites of food were making her scream as they tortured the solar carnage all over her mouth. And every word out of her scorched jaws sounded like it was filtered through a pack of cigarettes. She’d swallowed about 3 gallons of desert dust since starting to run.
And she was far from done with this 257-mile race across the desert.
This race had proven itself to be a merciless beast from the very first step. The Cocodona crew had to keep adjusting cutoff times because it was taking runners longer than anticipated – thanks to the tough conditions and challenging terrain. The desert heat was punishing from dawn to dusk. I was baking like a wood-fired pizza just sitting in a parking lot and my chapstick exploded into molten Vitamin E when I tried to apply it before one of my pacing shifts.
By Mile 218, Shelby was on her fourth day of running, with very little sleep to help her keep going. And she still had more-than-a-little ground to cover before she reached that finish.
And there was nowhere else I’d rather be at that early morning moment, than in that dusty parking lot, helping Shelby get back out on the trail for her final push to Flagstaff.
The first time I met Shelby in real life was on race eve, just 107 hours before that 4am whimper, in a parking lot outside a dingy motel on the outskirts of Phoenix. We hugged, we talked about her race plan - and metallic tattoo plan - over burgers, and I slept on a broken love seat in the corner of the room before waking up at 3am to embark on a multi-day adventure across Arizona together.
I’d ended up in that motel parking lot because I enthusiastically agreed to pace Shelby after she not-at-all-jokingly asked me to do it. I’d messaged her about how badass I thought her goal was and the conversation quickly escalated to an invitation to join her in the desert.
“250 miles! That’s freakin’ badass! So stoked for you!” I said.
“I’m looking for awesome pacers! Just sayin’…But really, dead serious!” she wrote back.
“This is the kind of invitation I like to say yes to, just sayin’. But really. Dead serious!” I typed.
We flirted with the idea a few more times over texts, DMs, and a late night phone call while she was practicing her night running. And it wasn’t long before I found myself sending her a “1000 percent IN!” text punctuated with approximately 257 exclamation marks.
I didn’t think all that much about why I was so excited to say yes, I just let that excitement carry me all the way to the Arizona desert to chase Shelby from Black Canyon City to Flagstaff, pacing and crewing her alongside a team that included her husband Jason, her friend Rhea and dog Lola, and her friend Barbs and dad Kelly. And I never once regretted my decision to be there.
My first time running with Shelby was when she reached mile 71 and could start picking up pacers. She was feeling great and having the time of her life. We cruised into the night with a chorus of whoops and strides that matched our enthusiastic cheers. She stayed stoked and strong through the very last step of our first jaunt together. Our hours together were amazing and inspiring.
And my second pacing shift was during the second day, when she had plummeted into a deep low. A bottom-of-the-ocean type of low that feels so dark you don’t even know if you can point your body in the right direction to get out of it.
We were stuck going down an annoyingly steep and technical trail that was smothered in loose rocks. The day remained punishingly hot until the sun disappeared for good – at which point it became very difficult for her to see all of said rocks that were littering the trail.
By the time we were getting close to the crew, she was howling at the moon and begging to the aliens above to make it all stop. Our hours together were still amazing and inspiring, just a tiny bit darker than that first pacing stint.
That was the theme of the race. It was a rollercoaster of HUGE highs and low-low-low lows. But Shelby kept going and going and going, no matter how tough the going got. It was so moving to watch her grit her way through every challenging mile and to stay excited about what she was doing.
And 4am on the fifth day was no different. She was facing another deep low, but we knew she was going to fight her way through it and keep moving.
All of Team Shelby was tripping around in the dark morning trying to get her ready to do just that. Pawing through bags to find the most palatable food and the gear to transition from the freezing night to the scorching day. And making jokes about how sparkly she looked and felt.
“I’ve never felt sparklier,” she coughed and giggled.
As I tried to find a fresh pair of socks for her blistered feet, Barbs gave her a pep talk, and Jason reminded her to eat more ramen, and I thought about how much I love this aspect of the sport. That an individual pursuit can be surrounded by so much community and connection and camaraderie. From aid station volunteers, to pacers and crews, to other runners. We have to power our own body from the start to the finish - but we don’t have to go through it alone.
Being at Cocodona for Shelby’s race was such a beautiful reminder of how much community there is in running and racing. And after a year of so much isolation and not being able to show up for each other like we normally do, in running and everything else, it was such a joyful rush to be back in that community, helping Shelby through such an incredible thing in real live life.
I didn’t think much about why I was so excited to say “hell yes,” to Shelby’s invitation to her party in the desert, but I’m pretty sure that had a lot to do with it. To be able to show up for someone doing such a big and special thing. To be a part of something bigger. And to get to share some of her highs and lows, and whimpers and whoops, and miles and miles along the way.
Shelby did power through that 4am low and got back out there – and 39 miles later, she sprinted up the final mountain and into the finish with a smile. And I’m so glad I was there to see it. That I said “hell yes.” And that there are a lot more “hell yeses” coming in hot.
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Follow Shelby for more stories from 257(!) miles of Coconda running. And check out her post-race podcast with Steep Life Media to hear about her race and to hear a charming story about the grossest piece of gear I ever put on my body.
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