From the archives: Cocodona 250

Merging my writing from my blog to Substack! Please enjoy a trip down memory lane with these next few posts…

The Cocodona 250 is a 250 mile race from Black Canyon City (just outside Phoenix) to Flagstaff, connecting many major trail networks of Arizona. With nearly 40,000 feet of elevation gain and a variety of trail types and weather patterns, it is a challenging yet beautiful race. It had been on my radar since it's inception in 2021, and I had patiently waited, trained, raced, and gathered the required gear. Finally, in 2023, with the go ahead from my coach, it was all coming together. Below is my race recap, enjoy!

The night before the race, we camped at the start and I woke up READY at 3am. Nervous as all hell, but ready. I checked in, got my spot tracker, and went back to the van to finish my last preparations. Somehow this all took longer than I anticipated and I found myself rushing a bit as the clock ticked closer to 5am. Walked over to the start line with a few minutes to spare, said goodbye to my crew (I wouldn’t see them until that night), and we were off!!

I knew this first section (Start to Crown King) was notorious. It’s hot, it’s exposed, it’s a lot of climbing (about 10,000 feet in 30 miles), and it can break a lot of strong runners. My game plan was to take it slow. So slow I felt almost silly. I stuck with the plan and felt surprisingly good on a lot of the climbs!

I met up with a few awesome women and stuck with them for a bit (one even knew a friend of mine from Philly!!). The water drops were surprisingly decked out with ice towels and popsicles and I was feeling good. Then I bumped into another woman, Kristin, and we kept pace with each other for quite some time. While there wasn’t much cell service in this section, she had a satellite device that allowed her to message with her husband from time to time. Turns out her husband had been hanging with my crew for most of the day! She graciously messaged my crew for me to check in and say hi! This was such a needed boost. We spent many miles and hours praising the wind gusts, problem solving a frozen water pack, filtering stream water, helping a few other folks having issues along the trail, bonding over both being OTs (!!), and chatting about the donkey racing she does.

We hit the last water drop before we approach Lane Mountain in overall good spirits. But I kept being thrown off by volunteers reminding me of cutoff times. I had a plan to move slowly through this section and I thought I was hitting my plan. “Am I moving too slow?” “Did I miscalculate?!” My thoughts spiraled a bit. I tried to keep cool and just press forward. My new mantra became “I am exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what I need to do.” And I was.

Eventually I found myself just pressing ahead a bit too far of Kristin, and I knew what I had to do for myself and my race. I checked in with her, made sure she was set, told her I had a bit of a second wind going, and I needed to just move. She completely understood and sent me off. I cannot express how crucial she was to my race here (and moving forward, but we’ll get to that later).

I pushed up Lane Mountain, it was tough but I was steady. When I reached the top I was so grateful to be done climbing for at least a bit. The sun was setting, I switched my lights on, and ran down the mountain into Crown King Aid.

“YEAH RACHEL!!!” I could hear Jesse's voice through the dark. A smile lit up my face and I saw my crew who had been patiently waiting for me all day. Quick change into some cold gear, grabbed a bite to eat, and back into the night I went.

This next section to Arrastra got tough. I checked the temps at Crown King and they seemed mild, but in actuality it felt COLD. I didn’t have enough layers. I found myself getting tired and tried for a trail nap but just let shivering and couldn’t sleep. I decided then that really all I could do was keep moving. I was tired as hell, feeling a bit miserable, but sleeping and sitting just wasn’t an option because I was so cold. Honestly, I just leaned into the misery and put one foot in front of the other. About 3 miles out from Arrastra a figure sitting on the side of the trail popped up when I approached. “Hey! Can I hop in with ya!?” I linked up with David for the first of many times throughout the race and we also joined forces with Mark and spent the last 3 miles into the aid station sharing stories from the day. We were feeling miserable, but misery loves company, and I saw that first hand. Linking up truly changed my night and brought me into Arrastra and through the first roughly 50 miles in one piece.

I made it into Arrastra aid station and buried myself under a blanket right next to the fire. I was so cold. Note to self I thought, bring your puffer jacket every night!! I met someone else from Philly at the aid station, and as I pulled myself away from the fire and back into the night we exchanged a quick “Go Birds!” (as one does).

The first stretch on towards Kamp Kippa was nothing. The sun was rising and I was feeling better. Then the climb hit. This section gains nearly 3,000 feet in 9ish miles. Woof. I put my head down and just kept pushing. I caught up with Brandon and we chatted for a bit, remembering each other from day one. Then finally, finally! Kamp Kippa appeared. AND IT WAS INDOORS! I walked into a camp mess hall, scarfed down some pancakes and coffee, took a quick rest on a couch, and WOW. I was a new woman. It was complete night and day, and because of this moment I found myself searching for pancakes at every morning aid station from here on out.

Moving down from Kamp Kippa to Friendly Pines was a blast. It was downhill, open dirt road. I put music in for the first time and ran quite a bit. Rolled into Friendly Pines and got to pick up my first pacer, mom!

We worked our way through the forest surrounding Friendly Pines and it reminded me of home. Sandy trails, cushy pine needles, and the scent of evergreen all around. We popped out of the woods and entered civilization! There was a man cheering runners with oranges and waters from his house. As I emerged from the trees, the song he was playing stopped and abruptly switched to The Rocky Theme Song! I kid you not!! I ran up to him and said “how did you know I’m from Philly?!?” He stared back and replied “I didn’t!”. Another moment of true serendipity along this Cocodona course.

We moved through the paved streets to Whiskey Row and I was jumping from grass patch to grass patch to avoid the concrete pounding on my feet. When we arrived at Whiskey Row, I made the call to get some sleep a little early. The sun was zapping me and I needed a break. I scarfed down from pizza and went to the sleep station. I laid on the cot and tried desperately to turn my brain off (easier said than done mid-race). Once I finally got my brain to settle and would drift off…ZAP! My legs would twitch me awake. Of the 2 hours I laid for, I probably slept for about 15 minutes. It wasn’t everything, but it was something.

I linked up with Ash and we headed towards the Granite Dells. While I think I needed the sleep when I took it, looking back I do regret not seeing the Dells in daylight. This section is a lot of rock scrambling around Watson Lake, and the pictures look beautiful. I guess we can say we traversed a rock scrambly section at night though, and that’s pretty badass.

We pulled into Iron King (after swearing we saw the aid station like 10 different times 😆) and I picked up my mom again. We had a nice easy, flat 10 miles into Fain Ranch (about the 100 mile mark). For about the first half of the section, it was a piece of cake. Big open fields, nice cushy ground. Then, as we were about to enter another field we saw headlights in the distance coming towards us. Uh oh…why are they coming at us? We approached and found a group of 4-5 runners who had gotten very turned around in the field. The markings were sparse and a big open field at night can be extremely disorienting.

My mom is a champ, and took charge. It took us some time, and a few moments of everyone heading in a different direction so we could figure out the correct one, but we got there. Not without me having a mini meltdown however! I knew there were really nice chairs at Fain Ranch and literally all I wanted to do was sit in one. When this section began taking more time than anticipated and my sleep deprived brain started turning mushy, I struggled a bit. Thankfully everyone and my mom kept me going.

We pulled into Fain Ranch, I found my “really nice chair” by the fire, laid on it upside down, and closed my eyes. Nearly 100 miles done.

After a quick eat, rest, and change, Jesse and I headed out into the night and towards our Mingus Mountain climb. We passed the official 100 Mile Marker and with my first step away from the sign I entered unknown territory. I had never run more than 100 miles, so from here on out everything was new.

We wound through more pasture, daylight peeked out, and we started our climb (nearly 3,000 feet in 12 miles). This ascent was one of my favorite sections. It was beautiful, I felt strong climbing, Jesse and I chatted in depth about my “why” (more on that later), and honestly before I knew it the elevation appeared to be leveling out. Jesse was the perfect pacer for this tough section (despite hurting from his 100 miler just a week prior) and in my memory we got through it with ease.

The Mingus Aid Station appeared and the first thing I requested was pancakes and coffee (I hadn’t forgotten their revival effect from Kamp Kipa), and I scarfed them down. After a quick change, and meeting Kristin's husband and checking in on her, Kyle and I were off towards the descent into Jerome.

I’d read over the description of this section and saw that I was going to be descending over 4,500 feet in 17 miles, while also climbing nearly 2,000. A little voice in the back of my head said “umm…that sounds terrible.” But I tried to ignore it. We climbed to the peak of Mingus and took some amazing photos, and then the descent began.

The next 16 or so miles were one of my lowest lows. The descent was relentless and torture on my legs, my feet were throbbing, the trail was technical and rocky, and lots of sections were exposed. My thoughts spiraled, I looked for any chance I could to sit and get off my feet. Eventually it all came bubbling up. All the doubts, all the naysaying voices, all the things inside of me that told me I wasn’t good or tough or strong enough to take on Cocodona. I started sobbing. “It’s just so hard” I kept saying. I felt completely overwhelmed, but simultaneously so grateful Kyle was there with me. He just let me sob. And sob. And sob. It was incredibly cathartic.

Eventually, after what felt like truly forever, Jerome appeared. I think it’s a really cute, historic town, but to be honest I couldn’t have cared less at the time. I found the aid station and sat down, completely defeated. I just wanted to rest. But after doing some math and seeing how much time I’d lost I knew resting just wasn’t in the cards here. I was so mad, but I stood back up, linked up with my dad to pace, and headed out.

I took off like a literal bat out of hell. I was MAD. I was TIRED. This was HARD. But I was going to fight. I tore down an initial descent (literally, because I fell), and then started running.

Now, I’ve got to fess up to something here. I dropped my pacer. I was in a make or break moment and I needed to run. I found myself stopping to make sure my dad was behind me and I just couldn’t stop anymore. I made sure he had the route, I called my mom to validate my decision, and my dad urged me on “go go!!”

And did I ever! I started dropping ~10:30 min/mi over 125 miles into the course. I knew the faster I moved, the more I could sleep. And I desperately wanted sleep. I blasted into Dead Horse aid and crashed onto the bed breathless. I did it. I was turning my race around.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get much of the sleep I desperately wanted at Dead Horse, and after about an hour of tossing & turning the noise of the aid station proved to be too much. I got up and we opted to keep moving and take some trail naps throughout the next section.

Travis was up to pace next. He kindly and selflessly stepped in to pace when we had to change up the pacing plan. We set off for Deer Pass through windy single track. The moon was gleaming and the light was bouncing off the clouds in a magical way. I kept stopping to take it in (and confirm with Travis that this was in fact real and not a hallucination). After a few trail naps and a bit of actual running, we arrived at Deer Pass and I’d made up enough time to earn some sleep.

Ash and I left Deer Pass towards Sedona, and I was so excited because the timing was working out so I’d see Sedona in daylight! About a half mile into the section we heard loud coyote howls. We stopped, wide eyed. They sounded like they were right on top of us. We crouched down and turned off our lights. The howling subsided. After a quick call to Travis to confirm what we should do it we do encounter them, we slowly walked further and kept out lights off for a small stretch. Luckily, no true coyote encounters.

The section coming into Sedona was gorgeous. The sun was rising and the red rocks were looming all around us. Being so small and up against something so vast was the perfect metaphor for this race.

We made it into Sedona relatively unscathed in my memory, and after a quick break Kyle and I headed out towards Schnebly Hill. We were about to CLIMB. Over 4,000 feet in 17 miles.

We wound through Sedona trails and crossed Oak Creek. I was so excited to cool off on the water and give my feet a well-deserved treat. While in the river everything felt perfect. But about 30 seconds after popping out, my feet seized up. I think it was the shock of going so quickly from hot to cold. I sat on a rock for a few minutes, wincing, breathing, and hoping this would subside. Thankfully all I needed was time and everything calmed down.

We started a very rocky ascent up a narrow path through Casner Canyon. I think I may need to re-brand as a climber, because nearly every ascent in this race felt damn good. I moved quickly and efficiently, and felt proud doing it.

Quick water stop and break at the peak, and I saw we just needed to wrap around the top towards the aid station. Unfortunately what looked quick on the map, turned out to be a seemingly never ending dirt access road. The exact same view and terrain for miles and miles. It was the heat of the day, and I started to feel really loopy. I kept telling Kyle I felt like I had the brain scramblies (What We Do In The Shadows reference anyone?!). After at least one (maybe two) trail naps, and just continually stepping one foot in front of the other down the same damn road, the aid station finally appeared. I took some time to rest here and try to slow the brain scramblies, but in actuality this was only a preview of what was to come.

After some rest at Schnebly to try and reset my brain scrambles, I hopped out of the van to find a familiar face! It was Kristin who I had spent a majority of Day 1 with! It took my brain a second to process it was her, and while my heart broke that she had to DNF, I was overjoyed that she was still out supporting.

We all chatted a bit and then my dad and I set off down another long access road. After unfortunately having to leave him in our last pacing section, I was so grateful we were able to share these miles together. The day faded to night and we could have sworn our path was following a giant lake. In actuality…it was just a field. Brain scrambles or not, the forest shadows can really play tricks at night! Having both my parents pace me was such a special part of my race, and I was so lucky to share it with them.

We arrived at Munds Park and after just a quick sit down, Ash and I headed out for a big section. She would be with me from Munds to Fort Tuthill (23.3 miles), and most of it through the night. We had one aid station in between which would make for a good mental checkpoint.

When we started, I quickly realized that my lack of sleep over the past few days was catching up to me. Not even a few miles into this section, I told Ash, “I’m going to need a trail nap or two here, I’m so tired”. After getting turned around with another group of runners (and a hilarious moment where all of our pacers ran in opposite directions in an effort to find the correct one), Ash found the way, and we also found a spot for me to lay down.

Unfortunately I ran into the same problem from night one when trying to sleep. As soon as I laid down, my body temp dropped, and I started shivering. Two trail nap attempts later, I still wasn’t any more rested and I was losing time. Ash tried some alerting breathing with me, I tried music, nothing was working. I just got up and tried to focus on following her footsteps.

“Just keep moving, follow her feet, stay aw…a…ke……” I slipped off to sleep, while standing, while walking. My brain tumbled through reality and dreams with each step. I was sleeping standing up. On top of it all, we were attempting to navigate downed trees that completely covered the trail. We crawled on hands and knees, and straddled tree trunks to climb over. Every time I straddled the trunk and momentarily sat, I immediately fell asleep again. This was a problem. I was losing it. Dreams and reality blurred together and it felt like everything was crumbling down.

We tried for another trail nap and this time I buried myself tight under my foil emergency blanket. Somehow, someway sleep finally set in.

I woke up with a start and jolted up. The headlamps that I had previously seen in the distance on the trail were gone. It was just Ash and I, sitting in the dark. “Ok I think I finally slept, I can kind of think again, wait…where is everyone? Are we past cutoffs? What do we do?!” My brain panicked. I hopped up, tied the foil blanket around my waist, and started MOVING. I was convinced that I had slept for hours and we were going to be pulled off the course. I just ran.

Finally, my brain started to settle and I could formulate my thoughts. “Are we near cutoffs? The race cutoffs or the ones we as a team made for me?” Ash reassured me that we were in fact nowhere near race cutoffs, and actually we were closing back in on what my team wanted me to do. “You’re okay Rachel. You can slow down, you’re going to be okay.” I could’ve cried. I exhaled a breath I felt like I’d been holding in for hours. We were going to be okay.

We pushed into the night and as we neared Kelly Canyon aid we closed in on some other runners. Seeing everyone out there, it hit me, we were all walking zombies. Sleep deprivation is no joke and it was crashing in on all of us. Sitting at the aid station, I watched pacers look at each other wide eyed and shake their heads, gesturing at their runners. “I don’t know what to do with him!” I overheard. When I say crew and pacers are so important in races like this, this is why. Without Ash I don’t know what I would have done. I would have gotten completely lost, actually slept for hours, or injured myself trying to navigate a downed tree. She helped me problem solve and miraculously kept me on pace.

We left Kelly Canyon and the sun started to rise. I’ll be honest, this next section to Fort Tuthill stunk for me. I had made it through one of my toughest moments, but still had to push another almost 9 miles to see the rest of my crew. But we did it. Honestly, we just kept moving, and eventually the aid station appeared. I’m sure I wasn’t pleasant to be around, but Ash stuck with me. I rolled into Fort Tuthill, still wrapped in my foil blanket, and told Ash “Well, after all that, now I certainly HAVE to finish. There’s no way that night is going to be all for nothing.”

After some regrouping at Fort Tuthill, I headed into the aid station to check out. A medic walked over and said she just had a few questions for me before I could leave. “What’s your name? Where are you? What year is it? What’s the day of the week?” I answered all the questions correctly, but I felt the lag in my brain as I tried to process each one. Like I was there, but just behind a cloud of sleep deprived fog.

We were released, and Travis and I headed out towards Walnut Canyon. We wove through smooth trails, picking waypoints to run to and eventually reached a bit of a climb. I saw a sign for “Vista” and got excited. Unfortunately once we reached the top, the Vista sign pointed away from the course markings. Oh well. After reaching the top of the climb, we wove through what truly felt like a never ending maze of trail. I tried to focus on the moment and not check the distance or the time, but I felt like we were just weaving in endless circles…for hours…and hours.

As I started to spiral, I caught myself and implemented a new mantra. “This has to get better.” Because it would. It wouldn’t wind on forever, despite what it felt like. The aid station would one day appear, and it would get better. I think Travis sensed my frustration here and just kept with me here, quietly and gently pushing me on. I found a new cadence for my movement, almost like a fast “race walk”, put my head down, and moved. Continually repeating, “this has to get better, this has to get better” until Travis looked at me and said “you wanna know something?” My eyes widened. “You’re about a half mile from the aid station.” “STOP! You’re joking!” I grinned. And then there it was.

I arrived to Walnut Canyon and to cheers and beaming faces from my crew. Something was shifting. The end was in sight. This crazy, wild dream was starting to come together. Jesse looked at me, smiling, “you can rest for however long you want. You’ve got all the time.”

I found myself still seeking the structure of a time to aim for, and we decided on an hour rest. I was nervous about heading up Mt Elden at night and feeling loopy like the night before. I laid down, but my brain wouldn’t turn off. Adrenaline was pumping. This was happening. After about 45 minutes, I hopped up, bundled up with cold gear in prep for Elden, scarfed down some ramen, and Kyle and I headed out. “See you at the finish!” my crew called.

The sun began to set, and a gorgeous full moon rose above us, painting the night sky with oranges and purples. I kept poking Kyle, smiling, and saying “it’s happening. It’s all really happening.”

We trekked on until we reached the base of Mt Elden, after a break for food, we started our ascent. The temperature dropped as we climbed through the rocky switchbacks. We stared up the mountain at the tiny headlights of other runners, weaving across the night sky.

Suddenly a bright light appeared. As we approached Scott appeared, photographing runners on their last climb! I had just seen him at Walnut Canyon and forgot to pass along an important message. “Scott! Hi! Wait!! I have something to tell you!! Gagz from Philly says hi!” He smiled and laughed, and we took a quick selfie to send, and I went on my way.

As we ascended, the climb got more challenging, but honestly I was loving it. When else would I be climbing a mountain, in cold temps, whipping winds, in the middle of the night? We slid down snow, scrambled on hands and knees, and then there it was. Our Mt Elden summit. I stepped up, sat down, and stared out at the twinkling lights. A giggle bubbled up. I just started laughing. “We’re here! This is crazy! How?! I can’t believe it.”

Winds gusted, cold shocked my face, but I couldn’t stop beaming. We hiked over to the Elden aid and I plopped down by the heater. I scarfed down some coffee & hot chocolate and shortly after, off we went. Only about 9 miles separated me from the finish.

My high from summiting Elden dropped as I descended. This descent is steep, my legs were trash, and my stomach turned on me finally. Thank god Kyle was with me because the navigation through here got a bit tricky too.

After a quick mini meltdown, I screwed my head back on, and told myself I hadn’t come all this way just to stop. We moved on. Eventually figures appeared in the distance cheering us on. Flagstaff must be near. Trails turned to road and we started running.

Chills spread across my skin, tears welled in my eyes. I rounded the last turn and there it was. Heritage Square, a sight I’d seen in countless pictures and videos, a sight I’d dreamed of seeing myself. The Cocodona finish. I didn’t know how (I’m not sure I still know), but I was here. I ran across, my dad pulled me into a hug, my mom was crying, and I beamed in disbelief. 250 miles, a dream come true.

**Photo Credits: Howie Stern, Scott Rokis, Anastasia Wilde, Ashley Kniffen, Travis Schlauderaff, Jesse Keenan, Kyle Weir, Carole Bambrick**