Beginning in Olympic Valley and weaving through the Sierra Nevadas, the Western States 100 is the trail runner’s dream. Traversing the traditional lands of the Nisenan, Washoe, and other neighboring Indigenous Peoples, the trail climbs more than 18,000 feet and descends nearly 23,000 feet before runners reach the finish line at Placer High School in Auburn, CA. As the world’s oldest 100-mile trail race, the prestigious event attracts some of the sport’s best athletes; year after year, runners line up to attempt the ultimate test of endurance.

Last June, our very own Monica DeVreese ran and completed the event. Here’s her story, in her own words…

“I had been trying to get into Western States for the past six years. Ever since I started running 100-milers, the event seemed like a dream – a historical course through the stunning Sierras, surrounded by some of the best runners in the world, and a huge community of supporters. I had eight tickets in the lottery, and I was crossing my fingers that 2022 would be my year.

I really kicked off my training at the beginning of the year. On January 1st, my friends and I repeated the Tanks Backyard Ultra, which is about 2.6 miles, every 45 minutes. I was feeling strong, and in April, I completed the American River 50 as a training race. Two weeks later, I went to the Boston Marathon for rabbit and ended up catching Covid. Although I recovered quickly, soon thereafter, I was battling painful inflammation in my foot that forced me to take a few weeks off running and supplement with cross training. With the Covid setback, I was still determined and optimistic about the opportunity to line up for this race.

When you get to Olympic Valley, the energy is electric. From the spectators, organizers, crews, pacers, and runners, there is so much magic in the air – I was overwhelmed with gratitude. The race starts at 5 am, and within the first four miles, the course ascends from the valley floor to climb over 2,250 vertical feet. It’s a gnarly way to start 100 miles. The initial 50k takes you through the high country; I ran patiently and controlled to protect my hips and quads. This race can destroy your feet because you’re constantly going through snow melts, streams, and creeks (but more on that later).

“When you get to Olympic Valley, the energy is electric. From the spectators, organizers, crews, pacers, and runners, there is so much magic in the air – I was overwhelmed with gratitude.”

Stage two, around 35 miles, is where the infamous heat really starts to kick in. The canyons are relentless – big climbs, plenty of steep downhill, sweltering heat, and thick/stuffy air. Each runner has a unique approach to keeping themselves cool, and I did exceptionally well in this portion of the race. I kept ice on my body as much as possible and stayed wet through the day. My stride was strong; I kept my body temperature down and ate well.

Mike Swan, my coach, joined me at Forest Hill (62 miles in), where runners meet their first pacer. It’s such a relief to see your pacer because at this point it’s night time, and your body is starting to shut down. This was the the first low point of the day for me; I was exhausted and honestly just sleepy. Because I rushed through the aid stations, I hadn’t changed my socks or shoes and my feet were in bad shape. In retrospect, I see how important it is to slow down and tend to your needs – take the extra minutes to get nutrition, change your socks, and drink more fluids. But, even through the bonking, I was filled with awe for the race. The magic overwhelmed me at the Rucky Chucky River Crossing. The course is as exhilarating and beautiful as they say.

“In retrospect, I see how important it is to slow down and tend to your needs.”

Paced by one of my training partners, Dave Odell, the last twenty miles were a glorious push to the end. I ran with my heart, and it took every last drop of grit I had to offer. It’s hard to explain the emotions when you finally drop into Auburn. Friends and family joined me for the final two miles, which was an unforgettable experience. The last lap around the track was surreal – rounding the bend, a crowd of supporters cheering you to the finish line.

When I reflect on the entire experience, I’m left with an abundant gratitude for everyone that touches this race: WSER directors, WSER board, volunteers, crews, pacers, and runners. You could truly feel how connected everyone was – I keep calling it magical, because it was.

I’m really proud to have run this race alongside other women; I’m proud in the sense that we can do this too – that we have a place on the starting line. As a mother, so much of this is about showing my kids what’s possible: you can have ambitions and work hard to achieve them. I want to break down the notion that ultra running is some crazy, superhero thing. Yes, it’s hard and you have to commit. But, especially as a woman, being in the mountains gives you the time to reflect on your life, goals, and daily struggles. That, to me, is the biggest joy of running.

“I’m really proud to have run this race alongside other women; I’m proud in the sense that we can do this too – that we have a place on the starting line.”

Looking back on my life, I’m so fortunate to have gotten into this sport when I was young. It gave the little girl version of me the confidence to be motivated, ambitious, and fully alive in my body. Running can bring so much depth to people’s lives, and that’s what I hope people take away from my experience. Every race teaches me something about myself, and the Western States 100 was no different. I said this was my last hundy – but damn, I might need to come back and try this one again.”