A 250 Mile Race to Raise Funds for Jewish Kids Groups
Written by Ana Robbins, JKG CEO, May 2024
I Know What You’re Thinking
When people hear that I ran a 250 mile foot race through the desert and mountains of Arizona, they have questions. Let me get some of the basics out of the way:
I don’t like to drive 250 miles either.
I’m not running from anything.
My knees are fine.
Yes, I ate during the race. Like, a lot.
Yes, I slept during the race, about 5 hours total.
No, my husband doesn’t “let” me do this. I’m a grown woman who makes my own decisions.
I ran this race to raise $150,000 for Tuition Assistance and Emergency Security Funds for Jewish Kids Group, the nonprofit I founded 13 years ago.
I finished in 116 hours, 15 minutes.
The Race Before the Race
At 4 am on Saturday, my crew - Coach Trena Kennedy, Logistics Supervisor Brad Goodridge, and Pacer Coordinator Celia Eicheldinger - and I took off for Phoenix. Once there, we rented two SUVs, loaded them with our six giant gear bags and headed north to Black Canyon, AZ.
Last year, amidst professional athletes, I felt like an imposter at race packet pickup. This year, even in my silly grapefruit leggings, I was a returning finisher. Still, it’s important to remain humble in the face of a 250 mile desert race, anything can happen: there are wild animals, extreme weather, the possibility of injury, dehydration, getting off course and a million other variables.
I got to hug friends from last year, Matt Miller and Andrea Moore, at check in. Running friends are akin to camp friends - bonded by shared experiences and able to effortlessly pick up where they left off even after a year apart.
My crew was back at our Airbnb in Prescott by 4 pm, the evening blurred with the monumental task of organizing the insane amounts of gear and race food. It looked like an REI exploded in a Trader Joe's.
Race Day, Let’s Go
After grabbing my tracker I choked down a banana and lined up with Matt, Andrea, and fellow Georgia runner Mary Dean Davis (a friend from Tahoe 200, 2022). The Cocodona Race is hot and you are required to start with the ability to carry 4 liters of water. However, us veterans know that even that is not enough. I started with 4.5 liters capacity, that’s 10 lbs of water!
At the start the trail is narrow and the first few miles look more like a conga line than a race. At the same time, there’s so much pent up excitement it’s easy to start too fast and to ignore the fact that there are still 249 miles left to run. I tried to be measured but also wanted to keep up with my pals. We enjoyed the sunrise as we twisted through the Sonoran Desert among Saguaro Cactus and Ocotillos, and scrambled up some dry waterfall features. After the initial 6 miles, runners began to spread out, offering a welcomed reprieve.
At Least There’ll be Water
At mile 24.9, we reached the second water station, expecting to be allowed to refill up to 1 liter each. However, the water jugs that had been brought in by mules earlier in the week had been pilfered by thieves! This meant we were limited to just half a liter. Luckily, Matt and I had water filters, allowing us to replenish from a creek (in truth it was more of a murky puddle, we couldn’t even tell which way the water was “flowing”). We reunited with Andrea and Mary Dean and tackled Lane Mountain, ascending 1,500 feet over 2.5 miles. As the Sonoran Desert receded, giving way to Ponderosa Pines and cooler Bradshaw Mountain air, the trail offered increasing shade and breathtaking vistas of ridgelines and valleys, with Lake Pleasant shimmering in the distance.
Crew at Crown King and Randy Again
Crown King, an ancient mining "town," boasts just a general store and the renowned Crown King Saloon, Arizona's oldest continuously operating saloon. After 37 miles under the scorching sun, it was a joyous reunion with my crew, who quickly got me geared up for the night ahead: they fed me and dressed me in warm clothing, headlamps, spare batteries, and extra food.
Leaving the aid station, I was hit with a wave of nausea. My stomach churned, and I began to dry heave. I have never experienced this on a run before but it was the first of many times I’d get sick this year. Just then, amidst my discomfort, an old friend, Randy Knight, appeared, tapping me on the shoulder with a familiar greeting. Despite my inability to engage fully, his presence was a comfort as we navigated miles together, him patiently staying by my side despite my slowed pace. Gradually, my condition improved, and we relished tackling the familiar terrain together once more and catching up.
In the depths of the night, we encountered another runner, Jenn Goins, stumbling along the trail in a run-drunk daze. I popped a caffeine pill in her mouth and she came back to life before continuing our ascent up Yankee Doodle trail (it is not dandy) towards the Kamp Kipa Aid station.
Kamp Kipa Kept Me
Time slipped away at Kamp Kipa (mile 62.2), inaccessible to crew, leaving me to my own devices. Despite attempting to rest in a bunk bed for an hour, sleep eluded me.
I climbed out of Kamp Kipa solo but also in pursuit of a fellow runner, Lisa Allen, who had left moments earlier. From across the dining hall, Lisa's presence captivated me - a seasoned runner exuding grace and measure. Once together we gradually pulled off our warm nighttime gear and shared conversation, savoring each other's company. Reminded by race instructions to respect the Mexican Spotted Owl nesting habitat in this area, we kept our voices hushed, honoring their presence.
Camp Wamatochick, Running for Andrea and MD
Six short miles later I arrived at Camp Wamatochick Aid Station (68.9), I spotted Andrea and Mary Dean just as they were departing. My friends!
I acted quickly at the aid station and pushed myself to catch up with Andrea and MD, knowing the camaraderie would be worth the effort. Together, we navigated the challenging terrain, sharing fun and difficult times under the relentless heat as we pressed on towards Whisky Row where we would be able to meet our crews for the second time. I knew there would be pizza there too so I was pumped.
Nascar in Jerome, Coach Trena in the Dells and Fain Ranch
Imagine a NASCAR pit-stop. As I rolled into the aid station, Celia swiftly tended to my feet, meticulously retaping them to stave off blisters while simultaneously hand-feeding me pizza, pad thai, and a protein shake. Meanwhile, Brad efficiently repacked my running vest, and Trena prepared everything for the next leg of the journey (miles 78-91).
This was the first time that I could pick up a pacer. Coach Trena is known on my crew for being the one who can push me to run the fastest. However I was battling another bout of sickness induced by the combination of eating and running in the heat. During this low period three runners passed me. The truth is that in a 250 mile race what happens at mile 78 isn’t relevant, but it still doesn’t feel good to be passed.
As we entered the granite dells, my spirits lifted. The terrain shifted between slickrock, boulder hopping, and scrambling around Lake Watson. Next we made our way across Fain Ranch Land, which is an endless cow pasture punctuated with cacti and barbed wire fences.
A Good Night’s Rest- NOT
Thank the lord, hashem, my crew let me sleep at the Fain Ranch Aid station. This is what sleep with my crew looks like: I get to the aid station and fall into the trunk of one of our SUVs and crawl into a sleeping bag. I ask, “Please Coach Trena, I’m so tired, can I have 2.5 hours?” She laughs and tells me to go to sleep. We both know she won’t let me sleep for 2.5 hours, and that it's best that I remain oblivious to the actual duration. The moment I lay down, she rouses me once more - it's time to tackle Mingus Mountain.
Going Up and Down Mingus Mountain
Celia, my mountain-conquering friend fresh off her own 200-mile race, took over pacing duties. We traversed varied terrain - grasslands, sagebrush, catclaw, and open plains, navigating sandy draws and the final A-frame ladder over a barbed wire fence, bidding farewell to Fain land. The milestone of reaching 100 miles was marked with a high-five, even as the reality of 150 miles ahead loomed. With temperature fluctuations of up to 40°F in a matter of hours, we carried a plethora of gear - warm clothes, headlamps, hats, sunscreen, and more.
I watched my third sunrise over the Black Hills which rise up to almost 8000 feet stretching diagonally across Central Arizona, and separating the Prescott and Verde Valleys. The vegetation turned to pine, juniper, and pinon the further we got up the canyon. I was surrounded by beauty but also haunted by the knowledge that I was behind where I’d been at this point in the race last year (based on where I was for the sunsets and sun rises).
The descent off Mingus Mountain is horrible and should be illegal– it’s HOT, technical and dry. We met Paul, a new runner friend and Cocodona veteran who I ended up leap frogging with for the rest of the race. Paul called the race a spiritual journey and I agree. I adored every second we spent together. This was also the section where I saw that my dear friend Matt was beginning to get the runner’s lean. Even though Matt smoked me in this section (I just couldn’t keep up in the heat) he would have to pull the plug a few miles later, unable to stand upright. My heart ached for him.
The views across the Verde Valley to the red rock walls of Sedona and the peaks of Flagstaff beyond are some of the most spectacular of the course. Soon the pines give way to scrub oak and sage. The view opens up as we traverse above the huge Verde mine, looking across the valley and down into the mine. The roads in this section are brutal– big, mean, sharp rocks that bake your shoes.
I cried a little bit. I ran out of water. I cursed. I called my husband, Eric (not much he could do for me but it was good to hear his voice and encouragement). Rocks rocks rocks. Finally we got to Jerome, a historic mining town, now an artist’s enclave. Fortunately, the first store we came upon was an ice cream shop– I got water, two scoops of ice cream, and an iced coffee. Hallelujah! This “meal” brought me back to life. I went from half-dead to back in the game. This is how it goes in these long ultra-marathons, things ebb and flow. You have to be willing to ride the wave. You may feel horrible one minute, and great the next. Or you might feel horrible for a bunch of minutes (hours), that happens too.
I officially made it to the 125 mile marker– the halfway point of the race.
Madison = Proof It’s a Good Idea to Run in the Woods with Strangers Overnight
In Jerome, I met Madison, a new friend I’d met online a few weeks earlier who agreed to pace me for 30 miles. I loved Madison from the moment I met her. I wished I could put her in my backpack and bring her back to Atlanta. The first part of our route together took us down a steep loose rough beat-up dirt powerline road that dropped us down 1,000’ in a mile. After that we had some nice trail before wading across the Verde River. The cold water felt amazing on my badly blistered feet. There’s something magical about a clear river oasis in the desert.
Madison and I stopped at Dead Horse Aid Station before hopping onto the Lower Raptor trail. The next 4 miles went through Arizona Primrose habitat, an endangered species of plant. This trail is chunky, good single-track but lots of soccer ball sized rocks that can drive someone on three days of barely any sleep a little bananas. Fortunately Madison and I passed the miles like old friends. Despite our different upbringings, we share a similar perspective on the world and sense of humor and the two of us talked, and laughed and joked for hours. This leg was a major highlight of the race for me.
Running races like this is the only time in my life when I have hours on hours of uninterrupted time to get to know someone. There’s no technology, no distractions, just two people chatting while running through the woods. I absolutely love it and it’s one of the main things that attracts me to this sport.
The second I get horizontal Trena wakes me up again. This time I really could tell it had been less than 20 minutes that she let me sleep because Madison was still wearing her vest when she woke me up and Trena was saying that I was only two hours ahead of cutoffs (if you miss a cut off you get pulled from the race and aren’t allowed to continue). I ate, but not a lot and headed out with my new pacer Sam.
Sorry Sam and Sunny Sedona
Sam was full of energy and was excited to run with me. The trail was buttery and this would have been a good place to make up time, but I was nauseous again and couldn’t run for several slow miles. Sam did everything he could, fed me pepto bismol, tried to get me to drink, sit down, anything! Can you imagine meeting someone for the first time in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night, with the intention of running 30 miles together and then they’re sick and miserable? That was me. Gd bless Sam.
I eventually recovered but had wasted a lot of time.
We were headed to Sedona. As the sun rose for the fourth time I was keenly aware of how far behind I was falling. Last year the sun rose once I was almost in Sedona, this year, I was much earlier on the trail. Ugh. The views in this section go from great to amazing as each crest feeds you more of the red rock vistas to come.
Leaving the Sedona aid station runners are required to carry a ton of gear because while Sedona is super hot, the plateau above can get dangerously cold. Average nighttime temps up on the Coconino Plateau are in the -30s°F. It’s sometimes frustrating to be required to shlep so much heavy gear (puffy jacket, gloves, hat, etc) for the cold when you’re already carrying many liters of water, sunscreen, sunglasses for the heat. But alas, this is ultra-running!
There’s a river crossing right before beginning the climb up Casner Canyon and I took full advantage of the water dipping my entire body in to cool off before the significant dessert climb ahead.
The views leaving Sedona are insanely beautiful too– the red rock monoliths slowly give way to Ponderosa Pines. I didn’t use trekking poles for the climb and instead flew up the mountain with just my feet.
Once on top of the Coconino Plateau, we ran into Jenn again. At this point in the race she was pretty down. Her feet were terrible and I thought she looked pretty dehydrated too. I forced her to take an orange juice I’d been carrying and that brought her back to life. We ran together for a while (Sam had to double back bc he left his trekking poles at the last water stop). Later in this section Sam and I started dancing and singing. I’m not a dancer or a singer (particularly after having run 190 miles) but Sam’s energy was infectious and I was just the right amount of delirious to be able to lean into the fun. We even did a flash mob coming into the aid station. We came in pretending I was sick and nauseous and then just when we had everyone’s attention we broke out into song and dance. It was such a fun time.
I Want to Run to Canada and Other Hallucinations
Next, I met my next pacer, Angela. I was so lucky to have Angela pace me. She had actually come to the race to pace another runner who had been pulled from the course earlier in the race. Celia knew her and asked her to join our crew. Angela was with me after 4 days of sleep deprivation. I was hallucinating which I both love and hate. My sister called me at 3am, only there was no one on the phone. I saw mythical animals and lots of JKG students cheering me on which was super encouraging, though not real. Yay for hallucinations!
In addition to my compromised mental state we ran through thick smoke which the “race command” had messaged was from a prescribed burn in the area. The smoke was so thick that we could barely see each other's head lights. I got scared because I knew that at this point in the race I couldn’t take care of myself. Thank goodness Angela was willing to physically hold my hand when I felt that that was the only way I could stay safe. I was so grateful for her kindness. During this stretch we also linked back up with Paul. I love the way you leap frog with runners over several days– there’s always lots to catch up on when being reunited: How are your feet? Did you sleep at the last aid station? Do you see that zebra too or am I just hallucinating?
The Home Stretch + A Cute Boy
Once a runner makes it to Fort Tuthill Aid Station at mile 210, it’s sorta in the bag. There are only 40 more miles left to run and the cutoffs get a little more generous. When I came into the aid station I felt great, I had lots of energy and wanted to keep running. But my crew over-ruled me and put me down for a sleep. Angela had told them how intense my hallucinations were and we all knew if I didn’t lay down now I’d pay for it later. So I slept, probably my longest sleep of the race, about two hours (I suspect) and I ate pasta and salad. I also got very weepy at this aid station: I knew my race was almost over and I just didn’t want it to be.
Celia paced me to the next section and we had a lovely 20 miles on rolling hills. When we came into Walnut Canyon at mile 227 (the last aid station where you get to see your crew) there was a good looking guy in a t-shirt and khakis. Wait, that’s my husband! Am I hallucinating again? No, he’s really here! Awww Eric, you’re the best. But I gotta go!
Coach Trena and I began the final leg of the race. On our way out of the aid station I was chugging a venti Starbucks but was feeling so tired and I knew I had fallen behind where I wanted to be in the race. I asked Trena what my projected finish time was and she said 5 or 6am. Oh hell no! I started tearing up. I didn’t want to finish in the morning because that would mean the whole next day would be a waste and I would have to sleep and wouldn’t get to hang out with my crew in Flagstaff. I knew this section, and set my intention to run this last marathon hard. There were a bunch of mild rolling miles, then a giant climb and then an insane descent off Mount Elden. I started blasting old school Atlanta hip music and singing along at the top of my lungs (sorry Trena). I did this for 7 hours and we passed 20 other racers over 20 miles. Passing this many racers with so many miles on your legs is unlikely, but we did it.
I crossed the finish line at midnight, five hours ahead of my projected finish, and better than my time last year by a few minutes. My sweet friend Matt met me at the finish with his camera crew and my crew was there too, my husband and my friend Rick. It was such a sweet finish.
I’m grateful to so many people for making this adventure possible and thankful to the many donors who have already donated.
If you enjoyed following my race please help me close out this campaign to raise money for tuition assistance. Every dollar you give will help give a student a Jewish education. Thank you!
