Sometimes the Instagram algorithm gets it right.
A few weeks ago, photos from the Grand2Grand Ultra started appearing in my feed, and something caught my attention. It wasn't the desert scenery or the race results. It was a familiar Mountain Laurel Ultralight Sun Hoodie.
I reached out to congratulate the runner wearing it, Emily Keddie, who had just become the first woman to win the race overall. When I asked where she'd gotten the shirt, I discovered she'd bought it directly from me at PCT Days. I even remembered talking with her.
As a thru-hiker, competitive ultrarunning isn't exactly my world. But the more I learned about Emily, her background on the Pacific Crest Trail, and what happened during six stages across the desert, the more I realized this was a story worth sharing.
I asked Emily about the race, the moments that tested her, and what backpackers and ultrarunners might learn from one another. Here's what she had to say.
Question 1: You've done everything from remote backpacking trips to FKTs and 100-mile races. What drew you to G2G, and how did it compare to the other challenges you've taken on?
I learned about G2G through a runner I coached last year- that was her objective, and I didn’t know much about the race at that point. When I coach, I do a deep dive into any race I’m not familiar with, so I learned all about the course and terrain, gear requirements, rules, and witnessed her experience from afar, which was overwhelmingly positive! She recommended I do it, and when I saw that the rescue organization Best Friends Animal Society based in Kanab, UT was looking to fill a team to fundraise and run the race, I jumped at the opportunity and applied. In many ways it was a new challenge for me. I’d done two stage races before (UTMR and Snowman Race), but those were largely supported. This would be largely unsupported, carrying all of my gear and food from day 1, meaning I’d have to run with a fairly heavy pack. It was more in line with things I’d done this past summer- The PCT FKT attempt which was 45 miles/day for 21 days, and fast packing sections of the PCT in Washington at 30+ miles/day- although for those, I was hiking and not running. For this race, I’d combine the heavier pack with running, which was a big question mark as far as how fast I’d be able to move and how my body would hold up with the added weight and impact.
Question 2: At what point did you realize you had a legitimate shot at winning the entire race, not just the women's division? Did that change how you approached the remaining stages?
One of the things I always tell myself is that races are won and lost in the last mile. I also try to never look behind me. These things help me to keep trying hard throughout the race, but not worry about what others are doing- focusing on my race and working hard to the end. I knew there was great talent in this race- the woman who won the previous two years, Szilvia, is immensely talented. We’ve done some of the same longer 200-mile races, but she’s also done Marathon des Sables which is thought to be one of the hardest races there is. Szilvia actually told me she finds the G2G course more difficult! I used her previous times as goals for each day. When the race started, I had no idea where I would fall, but I found myself in 3rd behind Andy Pearson and Reinhold Hugo, who jetted off far ahead. I asked myself if I could maintain the effort I was at- a faster pace than I had trained, but on the easiest terrain of the race (gravel road). I tried to be consistent, and eventually I caught both of the guys as the heat of the day set in. I had been fueling and hydrating really well, and when I reached the last checkpoint in 1st, the energy of the volunteers rooting for me sent me off for those last 4.7 miles with high energy. The terrain had changed to off-trail knee-high overgrown with cacti mixed in underfoot so the running was more “prancing,” but crossing the Day 1 finish line and hearing “You’ve made history today” from Race Director Tess filled me with immense pride and gratitude. Being the first woman to ever win a stage at G2G was a huge honor. I think it gave me a lot of confidence- I wasn’t thinking about winning overall yet, because we had five more stages including a 53-mile stage, but it was such a good way to open the race.
Question 3: What was the lowest point of the race? Was there a moment when things started going sideways, and what did you actually do to work through it?
My lowest point was definitely stage 4- the marathon after the long stage. I had won the first 3 stages outright, but during the long stage I lost my phone in the sand dunes! Because I was hopeful someone would find it, I had told one of the checkpoints in the hopes they could alert other runners to keep an eye out. I spent 15-20 minutes looking for it to no avail. I knew that losing a personal item on course was a 30-minute penalty (losing a food wrapper was a 1-hour penalty- all of our food items including individual sodium packets were labeled with our name/bib number, as the terrain is so delicate and protected that we were running through), but I also had a comfortable lead and just hoped to get the phone back. It turned out that another runner, Juliette, found it on the top of a dune (probably where I had taken my pack off to put on my headlamp) and brought it to the finish! When she pulled it out of her pack I was so relieved- I wished they could have given my penalty minutes to her as a bonus! The penalty did eat at me though, and the next day I was not moving as well. At that point the possibility of winning the race outright had been planted, but I didn’t see it as a guarantee, so that 30 minutes got to my head and I got pretty negative with myself that 4th stage. Reinhold and I ran together for a while- he was so kind, picking me up off the ground when I fell or spraying water on my neck when it got hot- a real team player. He got a bit ahead again, and I saw he and Andy across a wash. I gained a bit on the uphill, but they charged through the last checkpoint- where I took a quick 30 seconds to cry. The volunteers lifted my spirits and I was reminded of how much support and love was woven throughout the race. I set off for the finish, catching up to Reinhold, and he reached for my hand as we crossed the finish line together in 2nd. Andy had pushed me so hard that stage, to do my best despite my negative self-talk that day. Amazing teammates. The most special thing about this race, and the reason for my success beyond my physical preparation, was the support from my fellow runners, the volunteers, the camp crew, and the race officials. I’ve never felt so much positive energy and so propelled forward by mutual support all around me. I worked together with other runners and the environment of cheering for each other at the finish line every single day reiterated the fact that we were all there completing the same course, experiencing similar challenges, and we wanted each other to succeed. That is the best environment for performance. I am so grateful I got to experience that, and will carry that energy with me into future races.
Question 4: With your background in psychology and coaching, I'm curious how much of endurance racing is physical versus mental (I understand this conceptually in thru-hiking). When your body is telling you to stop, how do you distinguish between something you can push through and something you shouldn't?
GREAT question, and this is something I talk about constantly in coaching, and is an ongoing practice in my own running. It’s just as much mental as physical- if not more mental. You have to have some level of physical preparation to run a particular distance both safely and well, but the mental game is what both holds people back and leads to breakthroughs. The brain is very self-protective, and is wired to “save us from ourselves.” It’s why when we skydive, our brains say “No, don’t do it!” We have to override it to jump anyway, and that’s the worst part of the whole thing. The same works with running, but it’s with a bit less adrenaline and a more spread-out experience. When things get uncomfortable- like on Day 1 when I was trying to keep up with the guys and they were laying down 8 minute miles- you have to ask yourself if something is truly wrong, or if the alarm bells are premature- if it’s just discomfort, or fear. And then you have to ask yourself if you’re making smart decisions, like fueling and hydrating enough. If you are, there is a good chance you can keep going. Depending on the distance, you’ve got to pace yourself, of course. I knew for instance what my 50k times were (without a 19-pound pack), and what the times were for this stage in previous years, and made decisions based on that information. Being new to this kind of stage race I definitely took chances, and it paid off. I would check in with myself periodically, asking “are you running as well as you can, for this mile, and can you keep holding this effort for X more hours?” It’s hard to stay motivated for a week- stage 4 reflected that as well, when I struggled mentally. You have to just keep flipping through your catalogue of strategies that you’ve added over the years and find some that stick. Like cooking spaghetti.
Question 5: Most of TownShirt's audience comes from backpacking rather than ultrarunning. What do you think backpackers and ultrarunners could learn from each other? Are they really as different as they seem?
I think backpackers, and especially thru hikers, are natural ultra runners. When I finished the PCT, I started ultra running thanks to my friend Ella Bierce, also a thru hiker. It was a way to spend a lot of time outside still, but with a productive excuse- “I’m training.” We all spend a lot of time outside, and time on feet is an ultra runner’s friend: when training, we balance high mileage with avoiding injury, and so hiking is a great way to get more training hours without the higher impact of running, and it still prepares the body to be “on foot” for long periods of time. I think we all appreciate moving through wild spaces at our preferred paces- we share that, even if the paces are different. Some backpackers move faster and some slower; just like in ultra running there are party pace, competitive, front, mid, and back of pack runners. And people can move among those paces depending on their experience or desire to be faster. Fundamentally, we are all sharing the same trails and spending time out there because we love it. I think ultra running is empowering, coming from backpacking. Running uphill, being able to run through the mountains during the day and reach places much quicker when I can’t spend an overnight, makes me feel powerful. Getting anywhere on my own two feet makes me feel strong, and doing it light and fast is just a different want to move my body. But as an ultra runner, I see backpackers on trail and get a little FOMO- I can appreciate their slower pace, and I love that they’re going to spend the night outside when I have to get back to my car. They’re complimentary activities, one not better than the other.
What stood out to me most about Emily's story wasn't just the incredible accomplishment of winning the race overall. It was the way she described the people she competed against. They picked each other up, encouraged one another, and genuinely wanted to see each other succeed, even when they were competing for the same finish line. That sounds a lot like the trail community I know. Emily said it best. We're all out there for many of the same reasons, just moving at different speeds.
Congratulations, Emily, on an incredible accomplishment. And thanks for taking the time to share your story with us.
