The Trek (April 13, 2026) by Podcast M

We were night hiking when I started to see the course markings. We were just outside of Oracle, AZ and we were continuing our northbound thru-hike of the AZT, but now the trail was clearly marked for an upcoming trail race. One of our trail friends noted, “This must be for a 100k or something.”

We followed the race markings, little ribbons clipped to branches, for several days before we eventually made it to a road and had service. We googled what the race was, and saw that we had been hiking along the course for the Arizona Monster 300. Not “a 100k or something.” A 300 mile trail race mostly on the AZT, and it was starting in just a few days.

Bumblebee and I are both trail runners. She’s an experienced trail runner, having run several ultras, while I’m more of a beginner. I’ve crewed for one of her races, and I like to run casually on the trails back home in Colorado a couple times a week. As it sunk in that we were on the course for such a huge race we quickly devised a plan to get involved. We researched the course map and did some math to figure out what aid station we would be closest to once the race started, and then we emailed the Volunteer Coordinator, Brian to ask if we could show up at the aid station and volunteer. Brian was pumped. He offered to stock the aid station with anything we needed for our hike, and said we could use whichever ones was passed to get water and snacks as we hiked on. The energy was HIGH.

We hiked up to the Gila River Aid Station at about 3pm on the Day 1 of the race. Our aid station was 28ish miles into the race. It required runners (and Bumblebee and I) to cross through the Gila River to reach the aid station that was set up on the bank on the other side. We spent the first couple hours preparing all of the usual aid station supplies and getting to know the awesome crew of volunteers there. I was quickly struck by how friendly and kind the other volunteers were. The runners left the starting line at noon, and we all had in the back of our minds that the heat might really impact some of the runners. What followed was nothing short of brutal.

The first couple runners rolled in at around 5:45pm. We noticed that it seemed like most of the runners were already incredibly dehydrated and experiencing symptoms potentially related to heat exhaustion. Almost every runner came into the aid station feeling sluggish, thirsty, and already tired. We realized very quickly that this was going to be an intense aid station experience.

Bumblebee and I would go on to spend the next 9ish hours running around frantically helping the runners. So many of them were struggling with different issues: blisters, dehydration, gear failures, low morale, etc. We joked later that we felt like nurses, waitresses, and therapists all at once. We were filling water bladders, retrieving food, answering questions, and generally just on our feet helping however we could for the entire night and into the next morning.

Throughout the night, we saw incredible moments of perseverance. We watched as countless exhausted runners stood up and left to resume the battle. There were runners who spent hours on cots, vomiting or sleeping or both, who eventually stood up and continued running. Each time this happened I was surprised, but I probably shouldn’t have been. You see, I learned a lot about trail runners during those hours I spent with them on the banks of the Gila.

I knew people who ran ultramarathons were hardcore. The nature of these races attracts a gritty person, but still it feels so strange seeing it play out in person. It’s easy to say “somebody who signs up to run 300 miles must be really badass.” But then you see them actually doing it. You see a woman come into the aid station with toilet paper stuffed up a bloody nose, chatting cheerfully with other runners, and you realize what it looks like in real life to be “hardcore.” You watch a man throw up for hours, and lay on a cot with intense muscle cramping, eventually stand up and start running again. Their resilience really is inspiring.

You can find resilience anywhere if you look for it. I bet you can think of someone in your daily life who models it- somebody who *just keeps trying.* I see it all the time at my job as a teacher, when my students struggle with something and they keep trying anyways. In Early Childhood Education we even test for resilience in students. We know, in our field, that our students will need to be resilient to be successful, and so we measure it through a series of assessments. We know it’s important. I think my experience at that aid station showed me why I find ultra runners so inspiring: it’s resilience played out over and over again, in a space I love- the trail.

I’ve heard people sensationalize these large races by saying things like “these people are crazy” or “it’s not healthy to run that far!” These sentiments don’t value resilience like I do. Even showing up to run a race like this means showing up to display your grit. They’re signing up to publicly bounce back, adapt, keep going. I think that’s really beautiful and we should be valuing that, and cheering on people who willfully showcase their tenacity. It’s a special experience to witness that side of people so openly, and I cherish that I got to meet these runners during such a challenging part of the race.

To everyone who DNF’d at that aid station with us, I saw your grit and your fortitude, no matter how many miles you ran. You signed up, which was already brave. Then you trained, showed up, and put it all out there. All of these are wins in my book. Congratulations.

When the final runner came through we helped clean up for a while and then it was time to put our thru-hiker hats back on. We had taken a short nap from around 3am-5am, and now it was time to make some miles. I had eaten so much of their food, especially the pasta. We waved by to the other volunteers and hiked away. While the runners ran south along the AZT, we continued our hike north. We took our phones off airplane mode to get updates on the race pretty much every couple hours for the next several days.

We were so invested as we continued our thru-hike. Bumblebee would show me her phone and say something like, “This is the guy who I helped by taping up his pole with Leukotape! Look he’s still running!” Then I would show her a post from the race and say something like, “Look! I gave this guy some of my salt, he made it to the next station!” We felt so connected to them, and really just wanted to stay involved somehow. There was lots of, “Do you remember this lady? You got her a cup of pasta?” Race updates really took over the next couple days of hiking for us. I don’t think any of the runners knew this, but while they were running south, they had two northbound thru-hikers rooting for them every step of the way.

There’s some really clear connections between trail running and thru-hiking. Obviously we all love getting on a trail and eating lots of candy, but I was thinking about those runners a lot while we hiked away. We knew the trail these runners were going to be embarking upon very intimately, after all we had been walking on it for the past 3 weeks. I felt like, because of that, we offered an encouraging and understanding energy that they (hopefully) benefitted from. We know blisters, dehydration, snakes, and exhaustion. We know that the AZT is no joke, and we have a special level of respect for these runners because of our own experience on the trail. To all the runners who lined up for the Arizona Monster 300, the trail lover in me honors the trail lover in you. Happy Trails.

 

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