The Dead Man Peaks 50 is one of my favorite events. A race report will follow in a couple of days. These are my scribblings from the evening before.

Dead Man Peaks 50 tomorrow, probably the last ultra of the year. I will take pleasure n each and every one of the 53 miles. I will relish the dark chill of the early morning, feel awe and wonder at the desert sunrise, and hopefully watch the equally beautiful desert sunset from the comfort of a folding chair at the finish. I will feel grateful for the boundless, genuine friendship and support of the ultra community. I will smile from the bottom of my joy-filled heart at every fellow runner, crew member, spectator, and aid station saint. I will treat my clif bloks and peanut butter packages with the reverence usualy reserved for gourmet meals. I will happily reach for the slightly grimy pretzels and M&Ms from the communal aid station bowls and savor them one by one. I will thank my resilient body, my supportive husband, my hardworking muscles, my lucky stars. I will feel a deep connection to all living things on the planet, even the cactus poking its pointy spines through my Hokas. I will compliment and loudly appreciate each and every one of the volunteers who sacrifice their weekend for ours. I will enjoy feeling the burning quads, the blisters, the raw spots, the fatigue. I will fall, and I will get back up. I will display my bleeding knees and bruises proudly. And I will really look forward to that first post-ultra beer.
Whether I PR, DNF, or cross the finish line DFL doesn’t matter. I will celebrate the day because there is nothing better than being intensely alive and running on a beautiful day in the New Mexico desert.