During my Continental Divide Trail (CDT) thru-hike in 2022, I decided to challenge myself and walk (with a little bit of running) 100 miles straight! We had just crossed into Wyoming, and although it was beautiful, it was quite different from walking through Colorado for the last month. The mountains of Colorado were turning into rolling hills, and it was the perfect time to switch things up and try something interesting.

Time for a Challenge

We were about to enter the desert section of the CDT called The Great Basin. It was an area with barely any water or shade, stretching for 120 miles. People were talking about making challenges out of it. For example, doing it in 3 days, with 50 miles on the first two days and 20 miles on the last day. But, I wanted to try something more personal – a 100 mile challenge.

On both of my thru-hikes, I found myself getting into a rut at some point on the trail. I was longing for something uncomfortable and interesting. On the Appalachian Trail, it was doing all of Connecticut in one day – and yes, it was tough. The Connecticut Challenge is: 52 miles, 10,000 ft of elevation, a full pack, and you only get 24 hours. Challenges like these give me a rush of excitement and a touch of nerves – the kind that make you feel alive. I love chasing that feeling!

As I approached the Great Basin, I knew I wanted to do a challenge. As a runner, I’ve always been curious about ultra-distances and have full intent on running an ultra at some point. Even though hiking is different than running a race, this was the perfect time to see how I handled both the physical and mental stress of 100 miles. After the idea materialized, I became obsessed with the challenge.

Let’s Get This Started

I started in Rawlins, Wyoming and packed some snacks. Lara bars, Clif bars, Slim Jims, Gushers, candy, Mio energy, and bagel sandwiches would have to get me through. Trail food is notoriously unhealthy.

By the time I finished getting groceries and packing everything up, it was already 1:30 pm. Despite it being the hottest part of the day, I decided to start the hike. I thought it would be better to get a couple of miles in before it got dark instead of waiting for it to cool down.

There was a full moon that evening and I was hopeful it would light my way through the night. I was feeling confident. About 15 miles in, the sun began to set but my full moon was quickly covered by an ominous cloud. It looked like I was walking right into a big storm. Thankfully, it only rained for a little while, but it became super windy. Alright then, no moon light and against the wind.

At 23 miles, I watched the sunset while eating my second bagel sandwich. My plan was to stop every 10 miles. During the stop I would take a 30-minute break, take off my shoes, eat my food, and, most importantly, sit down. The goal was to break the trip into segments. I could then focus on reaching the next 10 mile mark without thinking, “Shit, I still have 77 more miles to go.” This pattern made the challenge seem much more manageable.

The Dark Night

At around 9:45 pm, I found myself completely in the dark. The clouds were still above me and the full moon was on the other side. Everything in front of me was completely black except for what was in the direct light of my headlamp. I was only able to see about two steps in front of me.

By 11:30 pm, I had hiked 30 miles, but my headlamp ran out of battery. I stopped hiking and took it off to charge, relying on my phone light instead, but it was a poor substitute. Fortunately, the Great Basin section was mostly roads. The trail was easy to follow, even in pitch-black conditions.

While walking in the darkness, I came up with the idea of wearing my headlamp while it charged. Sounds easier than it was. The cord from my power bank was incredibly short. So, I MacGyver’ed it. I managed to strap the power bank across my shoulder with my bag and then had to cock my head down in a funky angle so the cord would reach. I made it work and kept moving forward with about 6 more hours until I would see the sun again.

The Animals

Around 12:30 am, when I had hiked 33 miles, the clouds started to clear up. The full moon I had hoped for lit up the area, allowing me to finally see more than just a couple steps in front of me.

It was a little unsettling when my eyes adjusted and I realized there were about 100 cows grazing all around me. What else did I not see? It was a short-lived view because after 10 minutes, the moon went behind the clouds and it was pitch black again.

After the darkness set back in, I started feeling paranoid. I kept trying to look behind me and I heard wolf sounds for the next hour. They sounded far away, but I was pretty jumpy. I was on high alert the rest of the night and being in the dark was driving me crazy.

The wolf sounds finally stopped, but then a bird started following me. It would fly right at my head and then at the last moment change direction and barely miss me. This game of chicken happened about every two minutes and lasted for 5 miles. This challenge tested me in so many ways, but this bird was the most annoying thing I have ever experienced. I can’t express how much I wished harm on this bird. I can only imagine how I looked: ducking and swinging at the air while getting more and more creative with my cuss words.

Everything about the night was exhausting. I never wanted something as much as I wanted the sun to come up. Around 5 am, after I had hiked 45 miles, I took a break next to a cow trough.

My feet were killing me. I felt a blister coming on because the dirt I was walking through was more like sand. The resulting friction was a killer. I filled my CNOC water bag up with water and rolled my feet on it to ease the pain. I then did my best to wrap up my feet to reduce the friction

Here Comes the Sun and a Wrong Turn

While I was taking care of my feet, the sun finally came up, and I smiled the biggest smile of my life. It was time to start hiking again. I looked around only to discover there were two tents right next to me the whole time. What else did I miss in the dark? I was just happy to see the daylight.

Around 50 miles into my journey, I took the wrong road. I looked at my map and saw it rejoined the trail in a mile, so I decided to continue on instead of turning back. I soon came across a trailer in the middle of nowhere that someone was definitely living in. It was right in the path I was walking.

As a solo female, I felt anxious about passing a creepy trailer. The road was kind of his driveway. I definitely didn’t want to take a bullet for trespassing, but I didn’t want to turn back either. So I did what any hiker would do – I sprinted. It was a good half-mile to the end of his “driveway”. I might have PR’d my high school 800 time.

Two Marathons Down

At around 54 miles, I took another break and felt completely exhausted. I walked more than half of my journey, completed my second marathon, and hiked further than I ever had before. Everything after this point was uncharted territory. I was about to put my body to the ultimate test.

It took all my strength to stand up after this break. My body was shutting down and my muscles were tensing up. With 45 miles left, it was hard to stay motivated. I kept reminding myself that I was going to finish this challenge no matter what. I might as well adjust my mindset.

Staying positive was difficult. I had to keep reminding myself why I was doing this challenge in the first place. It was always about pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I wanted to prove to myself I can achieve difficult things, even when I lack confidence. I wanted to be more than just an ordinary person and become one of the “greats.”

This reenergized mindset carried me through the next 10 miles. It was as though I had a new burst of energy, and miles 55 through 65 felt the same as miles 0 through 10.

Off Trail and Breaking Down

I was running high on adrenaline when I checked my map for the next water source. I quickly realized I had gone off trail by 2 miles. I felt a sense of panic and disbelief. I stood there for a moment to let it sink in. I then bushwhacked most of the way to get back to the main trail faster.

Everything was so frustrating and difficult to navigate, and I had a breakdown. I started crying out of frustration, which made it hard to breathe while I was walking. I kept reminding myself that I couldn’t control the situation and crying about it wouldn’t make it better.

I finally could see the trail, but I had to crawl underneath a really tight fence to get to it and got a nasty knee scrape in the process. In any other situation it wouldn’t have bothered me, but in that moment, I had never been more angry.

I was mad at the trail, myself, and the world. It was a good thing I was alone because I was not pleasant. Once I got back on the actual trail, I took a 15-minute break. This break wasn’t part of my 30-minute break every 10 miles, but I needed some time to calm down and regroup.

My Dogs Were Barking

My feet were starting to become inflamed. They had been hurting since mile 45, but now it was getting unbearable. I didn’t have any ibuprofen to make the pain more bearable.

I hadn’t seen anyone in 65 miles, but I knew my friend Cuddles was ahead of me doing his own challenge. I hoped he wasn’t too far ahead. I texted him in desperation for an ibuprofen. Thank goodness he replied. He left a few pills by a post on the side of the trail, about 5 miles ahead . All I needed to do was get through the next 5 miles, and life would be dramatically better…or so I kept telling myself. At mile 70, I took my first ibuprofen.

Not Alone

With 26 miles to go, I met the first person I’ve seen on the trail since I started. His name was Lemon, and we took a break at a water cache a trail angel provided. (The Trail Always Provides)

At this point, I wasn’t able to keep any food down. Everything I ate made me dry heave. Lemon gave me a plain tortilla, but I was only able to eat half of it.

I told him about my challenge, and he thought it was super cool. He said, “I’ll help you complete this challenge. I was going to stop in 10 miles, but I’ll keep going to keep you company through your second night.”

I felt relieved with his offer to hike with me through the dark. I had heard the second night was common for hallucinating, and I was really in my head about doing it alone. I kept trying to play out scenarios of how I should deal with hallucinations if I started experiencing them alone. Now I felt a lot safer with Lemon by my side.

We talked about our lives and everything you could think of for the next 10 miles. I took a 30-minute break before we ventured into the darkness to finish the challenge. I still couldn’t keep any food down, but Lemon gave me some ibuprofen. At this point, I had taken five of them. I desperately wanted the pain in my feet to go away.

I Hallucinated … A Little

Once we got to the last 10 miles, it became a huge mental challenge. I felt completely defeated and wanted to sit down – that’s all I could think about. I would even close my eyes when I was walking just to feel the sensation of having them closed.

I also started to hallucinate a little, but I didn’t feel too scared with Lemon there. I talked to him about what I was seeing, and it made it feel like I had control. Getting his feedback helped me know 100% that what I was seeing was only in my mind from exhaustion.

It was an interesting experience. I felt like I was watching from the outside what my mind was seeing. Everything on the ground looked like a snake. At one point, I looked to my side and saw my old lunch box I used to carry to school. I was seeing the most random things.

The Final Stretch

With 5 miles left, I had to take lots of breaks. It came down to taking a 5-minute break every mile. The last break I took was at 99.3 miles, and I sat down and couldn’t even imagine going any further.

Lemon looked at me and could see how much I was struggling and said, “You can stop here. I wouldn’t tell anybody. Besides, you did 4 extra miles, so technically you’ve done way more than what you planned on doing.” I laughed and said, “No way. I couldn’t live knowing I stopped .7 miles away from 100.”

I grunted, we stood up, and I limped the last .7 miles. It was 2:30 in the morning, and we were in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road.

Time to Celebrate?

I stopped, I pulled out my sleeping pad, and I laid on the road. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. I was thankful for being able to lay down and knowing I didn’t have to get back up. After a while of laying down, I forced myself to set up my tent. My thought was when the sun comes up, I can lay in my tent all day if I want to.

I spent the whole night not being able to fall asleep. I laid there with my eyes closed for the next 4 hours until the sun came up. At this point, I had been awake for 45.5 hours. I rested in my tent until around 11 am and knew the worst part was about to happen.

The desert was 120 miles, and I was 100 miles in. I still had another 20 miles the next day to get to the next town. Yes, I know, not the best planning on my part.

20 More Miles?

I got up and started moving. About 2 miles in there was a river. I soaked my feet in the cold stream for about an hour, hoping to find some relief for the remaining miles.

Every 2 miles, I would stop because every step took so much effort. I’m not religious, but I was praying to the sky, hoping someone would magically drive past and offer me a ride to town. After 8 miles, I called it quits and decided to set up camp for the night. I was hoping to get some sleep and try again in the morning.

The Trail Always Provides

After about 20 minutes of laying in the middle of the road, a 4×4 was driving towards me. I jolted up and was waving my hands desperately. I didn’t really give him a choice of stopping because I was in the middle of the road.

I consider it a win that he did not run over me. He stopped and I told him my situation. He said, “Holy shit, I think you need a beer.” He got out and went in the back of his 4X4, grabbed 2 Bud Lights, and then handed me one. We opened our beers, we cheered, and then headed to the next town.

He had a rifle on his gun rack in the back window of his 4×4. Usually this situation would make me concerned, but at this point, I didn’t care. I was happy to have a cold beer and the certainty of a real bed tonight.

After finally arriving at Lander, Wyoming I was able to fall asleep. I had been awake for 58 hours and had gone 18 hours without eating. This experience taught me the human body is capable of so much more than we realize.

So, what is the limit? How far can a person push themselves? After completing the 100 miles and waking up the next day, my feet definitely hurt, but I didn’t feel like I had even come close to my own limit.

This challenge was undoubtedly difficult, but it was made easier thanks to the help I received along the way. From the trail angel who provided a water cache to Lemon who hiked with me through the second night, I was reminded we are never truly alone in our journeys. Even though the stranger who gave me a ride and offered me a beer at the end of my journey was not a part of the hiker world, he was an unexpected and welcomed support. This experience taught me yet again that the Trail Always Provides