In 2025, I planned to pace my good friend Jeff Gould at his first Western States. He ended up super sick with bronchitis and had to withdraw less than 48 hours before the race. Fortunately, the next person on the waitlist (Rusty) had proactively jumped on a plane from the U.K. and was able to use his spot in the race. Since I was now free, I joined my husband Steve and volunteered at Peachstone Aid Station. And we hosted Rusty for the weekend and made a great new friend.

Steve and I had plans to Run the Alps in October 2025 (thanks to our friend Carol, who died earlier that year and gifted us the trip), but Steve broke his femur in July 2025 at his first trail race back since breaking his femur in 2023 at Western States, so we had to cancel our trip. I’d been running a bunch and suddenly didn’t have anything on the calendar, so I signed up for Lake Sonoma 100k (a Western States qualifier, why not?) in October.

The morning after Lake Sonoma (shortly after I’d declared to friends “100k is plenty far enough, no need to ever do a 100 miler again“), I received an email from our aid station captain, Joann, asking if I was interested in the Western States entry from the aid station. I had NO IDEA I was even in the “running” for it, but the 1st volunteer in line, my friend Jason, had gotten Giardia and couldn’t complete his qualifier at Lake Sonoma.

Somehow, it took a string of terrible events—Carol dying and gifting us the trip, Jeff getting super sick before States in 2025, Steve breaking his femur, and Jason getting giardia—to get me into the oldest and most prestigious 100 miler in the world for the THIRD time. Life’s ups and downs to the extreme.

The Lottery

The first Saturday of December, more than 11,000 people anxiously waited for their names to be drawn to determine who would be running Western States 2026. By some miracle (and Thank God for the sake of preserving our friendships), my dear friends Jon Emis and Jeff Gould’s names were both chosen. Jon had been trying since 2017, and you already know Jeff’s story.

Training

The best part about any race is the training. Months of carpooling to the trails for runs and races with the best friends anyone could ask for. Friendly jostling (I’m still trying to get their Ultrasignup passwords), good-hearted competition (friends’ podiums are the best podiums), and reconnecting with old friends on the trails.

Nearly every Saturday, from February to May, some combination of Gretchen, myself, Jon, Jeff, and Wallace would load into the car before sunrise in Truckee and head to Auburn, Drivers Flat, or Foresthill to spend the day on the trails, with Carrie meeting us at the trailhead. Sometimes there would be cheeseburgers and milkshakes or rootbeer floats after. There was always camaraderie and we learned alot about each other as we ran up and down through the spectacular spring in the Canyons. Each week I’d think we’d reached the peak of wildflower season only to be pleasantly surprised the next week that there were even more flowers. Each week I’d think we were safe from poison oak only to discover a couple days later that wasn’t the case. Each week I’d try to get Jon to share his Find My Friends location with me, but alas, he would not.

The rest of the week, I either ran solo or with Naomi for “Run Club” which always involved a stop at Whole Treats Bakery afterwards. Sometimes, we met at the Bakery and didn’t go for the run, but still called it Run Club. I also got my neighbor (and crew chief) Andrea out regularly, including talking her into her first speed work session ever, and listening to her exciting tales of life as a Midwife. Turns out, there are many parallels between laboring and ultrarunning, and Midwives make superior Crew Chiefs.

After a couple run-ins on the trail with my old friend Tom Flahavan (an experienced ultrarunning coach), with only 9 weeks to go, I asked him to coach me as I was starting to panic about my first 100 miler in 5 years. Tom provided a structured plan and we spoke on the phone multiple times a week and he engaged the help of a nutritionist and podiatrist to troubleshoot issues. He arranged for multiple aid stations for our training runs and even supported my friends who weren’t on his team (Team FUC). He was also coaching 4 other WS runners, and it was awesome to meet and run with them during training.

During one especially challenging training run in the canyons, I saw Tom at the “aid station” half-way point and he asked how I was doing. “that felt REALLY hard” I said, not feeling very confident at all. Tom enthusiastically replied “Fuck yeah that was hard, it’s supposed to be hard!! That’s a hard fucking section of trail! But I know you can do it. And on race day, you only have to go one direction!” After that, when things felt hard (anywhere), I could hear him saying “Fuck yeah it’s hard – It’s SUPPOSED to be hard!” and it reassured me that I was on the right path.

As we neared the end of our big training days, I got a little melancholy, not wanting this special time to come to an end.

The Crew

I initially told my family and friends that I “didn’t really need a crew” – but I’d love for them to be a part of the experience. Turns out I absolutely did need a crew, and like 20 of them. Everyone played a critical role, whether it was on the GI Defense Team or the Fiddling and Dancing Support Team.

Goals

The last 2 Western States 100s I had finished in exactly 25:28. I had dreams of finishing in the same time, and the weather forecast was looking chilly and mild, which is unheard of for Western States. Time goal aside, my ultimate objective was to run with gratitude and joy throughout, let go of the ego (“Your ego is not your Amigo” – Dean Potter) and “Shed what no longer serves you” – also the ego. I read and re-read a Blessing my brother’s family had sent me from the Camino de Santiago. The perfect thing to read before any long run:

Race Day

A bunch of My People showed up at the start – their fluorescent pink “Team Nelly P” vests seemed to designate them as Race Officials so they did their best to respond to questions.

We started up the climb and were immediately blasted by the blowing sand and dust and wind. About a mile in, I could hear my brother Marcel playing the fiddle in the frigid morning as we climbed up towards Emigrant Pass. He’d found a nice spot by a rock sheltered from the weather. My cousin Meghan and Marcel’s kids were there to cheer me along.

The High Country to Robinson Flat

Coach Tom’s word for the High Country was “Patience”

Temps were cool, the views were extraordinary and I was grateful for every moment. I took the pace very chill, and I started up conversation with people when I’d catch up to them instead of just passing. I remained patient, knowing I was doing everything I could to set myself up for success later in the run.

I met some really awesome people including Stephanie, the recipient of the Silver Legend entry. I caught up to Jon “Hey Buddy!” after Duncan Canyon. Jon and I cruised into Robinson Flat together and I met my crew. They changed my socks for the first (and only) time of the day, gave me a fresh shirt and sent me onward to the Canyons.

The Canyons to the River

Tom’s word for the Canyons was Presence – Stay Present.

My GI system started really going south around Devil’s Thumb (I’d started my period the morning of the race – a 2am surprise – so the GI Issues were inevitable). I wasn’t feeling super great about being a woman… until… A very kind and calming volunteer at Devil’s Thumb could tell I was struggling. She fed me broth and ginger ale and her soothing and encouraging voice was just what I needed.

I was with 2 other women and the Kind Soup Lady said “You know, not many women get to see Devils Thumb on race day- you’re all very lucky and I’m very fortunate to have 3 of you in the aid station at the same time!” She told us only 23% of the entrants were women. She also told me “Many people come into this aid station feeling bad. A little broth can go a long way and once they realize they’ll see their crew in about 6 miles, they experience a reset and leave here feeling better“. Her words worked their magic on my soul and I headed out believing them.

The GI issues were manageable by slowing down. As a bonus – by the time I got to Michigan Bluff it was late enough that I could have my first pacer, Gretchen, join me!

The Potvin Party/Team Nelly P was out in FORCE and seeing them eased my discomfort. Meggie introduced me to a cocktail of Ginger Ale with a shot of Pickle Juice – this helped with the intense stomach cramping and became my new go-to beverage at every aid station afterwards.

Running with Gretchen was a gift- every once in awhile she’d softly say “Yay Western States” and I’d echo it back and it made me smile and helped me stay present in the glorious moments we were experiencing. As we approached Bath Road, I told Gretchen “This is where Tina said the mountain lion hangs out. If it decides to grant me the sweet relief of death you can tell everyone that I died happy and totally fulfilled to have come this far in the race.“

We did not die, and made it to Foresthill and met up with my crew again, as well as all our friends from the Silver State Striders at the Foresthill Aid Station.

After Foresthill, my legs felt amazing, we chatted easily, and we marveled at the full moon glimmering on the river hundreds of feet below us. We listened to crickets and frogs and birds and leap-frogged with friends on the trail. My fastest mile was heading into Cal 2: I had to run 70 miles to see my husband and best friends at Peachstone Aid Station, which was how I got into the race in the first place. I asked JoAnn for more GI assistance and she added pepto bismol chews to my stash. After we left, Gretchen demanded to know what I had eaten at the aid station: “I had another imodium, 5 papaya enzymes and 2 pepto bismol chews!“, I proudly told her. “I mean real food!!“

When we approached Cal 3 Aid Station the volunteer said “Hello! YOU are at Western States. THIS is the Cal 3 Aid Station” – which I found hysterical and also highly appropriate for many people at that stage of the night. Photos by Gretchen:

The River to Pointed Rocks

Tom’s word for the last third of the race was “Flow“.

Jon and his pacer caught up to Gretchen and I as we approached the river, and we shared the last mile together. He seemed to be doing well but I overheard his pacer tell Audrey that he wanted to lay down for a few minutes. UH OH. I thought, as I headed to the porta potty. Jon was going to be here for awhile (I later learned he left before I did).

When Gretchen and I got to the river, I was blown away to see over half of my crew had made it down there – they must have filled an entire shuttle. Avian applied glitter to my face and I gave a little speech before we left: “My sister Lynette crewed for me at my first Western States, 13 years ago, as a solo mission. She also crewed for me solo at TRT 10 years ago. Always a bridesmaid; never a bride. That changes Tonight!”

While the river crossing was terrifying, it gave me comfort that I was with Lynette, an experienced boat captain on Lake Superior, and hearing her say the water was warm convinced me it was, despite the WARNING RIVER IS DEADLY COLD signs.

I was thrilled that my legs didn’t hurt, zero chafing issues, and I had no blisters! The limiting factor was the GI issues and having to stop every 2-3 hours to change my tampon, but I could work with that, and kept reminding myself I’d much rather have THAT issue than something else.

Lynette kept me entertained with stories from her work as the Ecologist for Isle Royale National Park. At one point someone came up behind us and Lynette automatically said “want to pass?” and it was Jack (pacing Tina) who responded “Nope, it’s just friendly fire back here“

We got to Auburn Lake Trails, Mile 85, and saw my buddy Jon and his pacer Jeff Brown in the aid station ahead of us. WHAT!? “I thought you were still napping at the river! You tricked me!” We bantered a bit and the aid station volunteer said she thought he’d wait for me while I used the porta potty. He did not wait.

When Net and I approached Quarry Road, mile 90, we were convinced there was a live band playing at the aid station. As we got closer, we could clearly hear the shimmering of a gong – it had to be a live band! It was not. But Scott Jurek was there!

I didn’t feel much of any pain (aside from stomach cramping) until after mile 90, and then the final 10 miles started to feel like an enormous task. My coach, Tom, had instilled it into my mind that “running this section is a choice. It’s mental. Everyone is hurting, and you can choose to run through it or not”. And, “It’s supposed to be fucking hard! You’ve got this!” I’d also shared Tom’s words for each section with Lynette, and she reminded me of “FLOW” at a critical time here, when I needed to hear it and could then try to emulate it.

I also told myself throughout the race “more than 11,000 other people would trade places with you right now.”

Pointed Rocks to The Finish

Lynette got me to mile 94 and then it was my 14-year old nephew Ly’s turn. Ly (an experienced long-distance runner) did an incredible job as a first-time pacer – he was encouraging, upbeat, and did it all in Vans high-tops. Ly asked me important questions to remind me where I was like “Auntie Jenelle, I can’t believe you ran 94 miles already, do your feet hurt?”

Ly kept a perfect pace in front of me, and we even passed a few people. He also reminded me to take sips of water and eat. I had turned my watch face off at mile 90 (it was driving me crazy), so I had no idea what time it was.

As we crested the climb to Robie Point, Ly and I were greeted by all of my people. We formed a stampede that stretched across the street and we made a lot of noise as we moved towards the iconic White Bridge and eventually could see the track at Placer High.

Once we hit the track, I got a hug from my coach, Tom, and as I rounded the final stretch, Jon appeared out of nowhere, tapped me on the shoulder and said “Hey, mind if I join you?” He had finished 10 minutes earlier and I still can’t believe he was able to start running again.

I reached the finish line, and my good friend Andy presented me with my medal. My time goal had gone out the window around Devil’s Thumb, when I realized the GI issues were something I’d be managing for the rest of the race. I had no idea what time it was until I looked up at the clock, and 28:19 felt like the perfect time to cross that finish line.

It took two broken femurs, bronchitis, giardia, heartbreak, an amazing coach, extraordinary friends and family, and incredible volunteers to get me back to the Placer High track on the last Sunday in June. More than 11,000 people would have gladly traded places with me that day, and it made even the difficult moments seem like a gift. I crossed the finish line filled with gratitude for the opportunity.

Acknowledgements
With immense gratitude:

Coach Tom Flahavan
Team FUC teammates: Katy, Mel, Kass, Ken
Peachstone Aid Station Crew
Crew: Andrea, Meggie, Jan, Mom, Avian, Stephen, Fiona, Meghan, Lena, Marcel, Kevin, Sara, Dan, Kathy
Pacers: Gretchen, Lynette, Ly
Crew Hosts: Bill and Karen Rose
Bruno care: Betsy, Paul, and Lizzy
Beverly care: Pam and Max