
Photo by Katie Bradish
I do this thing where I impulsively sign up for races. A certain mania takes hold when a good work out day rolls around—the one out of 20 when everything goes well and I think that I am, in fact, a naturally gifted athlete. The kind of person that could (no, should!) sign up for a competitive event.
Fortunately, this erratic registration behavior has been isolated to the occasional 10K or half-marathon. The subsequent race-related suffering and injury has been minimal or short-lived. Post-race, my ego safely back in check, life goes on.
But recently, I’ve been running with a different crowd. People who have normalized their extreme habits and fringy behaviors. I’ve gotten in with ultrarunners.
Slowly, I was lulled into the belief that running far isn’t a big deal—ordinary, really. Everyone was doing it, they insisted.
So, I did it again—rashly signed up for a race, but this time, it was a 100K relay. A trail race encouragingly titled Dig Your Grave. “Stunning views and discomfort for those unlucky souls who choose to take part” is the race tagline. It runs 62 miles through the Kaniksu National Forest in the Idaho panhandle. The course gains 15,000 feet of elevation on the overgrown trails of the Cabinet Mountains.
Convincing three others to drink the 100K Kool-Aid didn’t take much cajoling. They agreed easily. Apparently, everyone was doing it.
Ammi Midstokke—Competitive XC Biker, Ultrarunner, Author, TedX Presenter, Nutritionist
Kelly Greenway—Trail Runner, Spartan Trifecta-er, Nutritionist
Kelly Emerson—Personal Trainer, Spartan Trifecta-er, Massage Therapist
Katie Bradish (me)—Grilling Plank (you know, for salmon) Sales Professional, BBQ Judge, Enthusiastic Person…?
Relays, by nature, are complicated and require coordination. Race legs needed to be assigned, transfers discussed, snacks pre-planned. So, I invited my team over for a little pre-planning dinner party.
But did you see that two are nutritionists and one a personal trainer? Dinner had to be not just good, but healthy. This was my inaugural paleo hosting endeavor.
The ingredients list was simply wood, smoke, fire, meat, fish, fresh vegetables and fruits. This smoked paleo meal was surprisingly simple to prepare and was designed to make ahead and serve cold.

Different run-fueling approaches were traded, kombucha-based drinks were slurped and race plans were made.
When race day came, we felt ready. But relays are complicated and Mercury was in retrograde.
The race began at dawn. The first runner ticked off the mileage, while the rest of the team shuttled from the start line to the first transfer. The baton, or in this case, the snap bracelet, was passed to the next runner. The second leg was underway.
Collectively, the team would run 86 miles, rather than the planned 62.
And then the winds of anxiety began to stir and fears began to surface: Fear of being alone in the wilderness and fear of the dark. One of our runners had trained for distance, but not for solo mileage. Another had trained for distance, but not for nighttime running.
We had discussed elevation gain and transfer navigation in detail. Gear, food and water were on lock. Camp chairs and coolers for the after-party were packed, but a key question was neglected:
“Do you feel confident in the specific circumstances that your assigned section of trail will entail?” It seems pretty obvious now.
Now, mid-way through our race, we had a decision to make. Do we send two runners—half of our team—out into the mountains feeling uncertain or do we make eleventh-hour changes to our leg assignments?
We changed the plan.
We decided to finish the race, running two by two. To assuage those common fears, we would simply run more.
Two runners would take the third leg up to summit of Pend Oreille Peak together in the light of day. As the shadows grew longer, the other two runners would run the final leg in the dark.
Collectively, the team would run 86 miles, rather than the planned 62.
As we neared the end of our long mileage, the finer details of the training schedule, fueling methodology and all the planning it took to get us there didn’t seem to matter much. It either worked or it didn’t. And what we did— moving together as a team—worked.
Each team member ran stronger, paced faster and went longer than anticipated. Each of us showed vulnerability, grit and grace under pressure.
And you know what? We won.



—Katie Bradish is an Idaho native who does all sorts of Idaho-y things, like mountain biking, nordic skiing, snowboarding and working at Wildwood Grilling, a forest products company that specialized in smoking woods.