186. Our Story of a 100 Mile Race

Tessa opens by revealing that her husband, Marcus, did not finish the Kodiak 100, but completed 71 miles after a year of training. She calls the result “absolutely incredible” and says the weekend left the family appreciating his tenacity, endurance, perseverance, and humility—especially his willingness to stop when continuing no longer seemed wise. Marcus jokes that he stopped at 71 miles to inspire himself to finish next year. The couple explain why the goal initially seemed so unlikely. They had always valued health and activity, but running was not central to their family. Marcus had been a strength-and-conditioning coach who believed running was not useful if the goal was getting “jacked,” while Tessa used to run six miles three nights a week. Even after Marcus began working from home, he regularly declined two-and-a-half-mile family walks because it was windy, hot, sweaty, or his feet hurt. Tessa, by contrast, had always taken the children on walks and encouraged their endurance; the children now run 5Ks, ride bikes for miles, and tolerate long stroller runs. Tessa’s broader lesson is that the way a husband changes is “none of your business.” She says a wife’s responsibility is to love him, believe in him, and sometimes see him more clearly than he sees himself—not to control how he gets there.

Marcus’s 100-mile idea came from a friend, not from Tessa pressuring him to become more active. When they discussed it in their bathroom, Tessa immediately encouraged him to do it because he rarely chose something solely for himself. Marcus warned that training would require six- to eight-hour Saturday runs and a major time commitment. Tessa realized his concern—that she would resent his absences—came partly from years in which she had discouraged his golfing and other hobbies. She told him she understood why he expected that reaction and wanted the opportunity to prove she could be a supportive, encouraging wife. If the race was the thing he wanted to choose, she wanted him to choose it so she could support him. Tessa describes that conversation as one of her favorite moments in their marriage because it let her deliberately reset the pattern between them. The race then became a public commitment. Marcus told Tessa’s family, people at the gym, people in their small town, and his social-media audience that he would run 100 miles. Before race day, neither of them seriously considered that he might not finish. Marcus says that by mile 19 he already suspected his knee would “blow up,” but the possibility of stopping had not been part of his mental plan. Tessa also wondered whether he would be comfortable with her publicly saying he completed 71 miles rather than the full 100.

The Kodiak 100 took place in Big Bear, California, about a six-hour drive from the family’s home. Tessa, Marcus, and their four children arrived several days early to rest, acclimate, walk by the lake, and look at the mountain course. The drive included a comic collision of voices: Tessa’s phone repeatedly announced directions to “Big Bear Lake” while Marcus used voice-to-text to handle Momset payroll, causing his phone to capture her directions, the children’s questions, and repeated references to Big Bear. Marcus eventually pleaded with her to stop saying it. The night before the race, Tessa became increasingly nervous about both the 100-mile distance and her responsibilities at aid stations. She mentally rehearsed being “capable, prepared, adaptive, flexible, equipped, and ready,” while Marcus remained outwardly calm and tried not to focus on a knee that had felt tight for about a week. He remembered his coach saying that pre-race aches might disappear at the start line, and adrenaline initially made the knee feel better. Getting to the start was stressful because the race guide said crews had to use shuttles or risk disqualification, but the shuttle instructions were confusing. Tessa and Marcus eventually got to the start in time, although most families appeared to drive themselves. Their children were deeply emotional: their oldest son cried after Marcus reached for his hand while running past and said he wished he had more time with his dad. Tessa later cried while driving back, not primarily from fear, but from realizing how much she loved Marcus and their life together.

Marcus ran the opening section without seeing his family until mile 33. His right IT band began pulling painfully on his knee around mile 19, especially on downhills. At the same time, the muscles lifting his left foot became rapidly fatigued, making uphills painful. He could still run slowly on flat or mildly inclined ground, but he walked downhill awkwardly, describing the movement as a “peg leg.” He also had a headache from roughly mile 10 to mile 55, despite drinking enough water that his urine was clear. While Marcus ran, Tessa prepared ramen, food, hydration, clothing, shoes, socks, gels, chafing cream, and Voltaren gel. She intended to leave early, but tried to help her mother-in-law with bedtime instead of trusting her to handle all four children. The bedtime effort expanded when one son reported a spider and the others joined him, leaving Tessa late. At the shuttle stop, she and Marcus’s brother found people who had already waited 45 minutes. Shuttles repeatedly raised and dashed their hopes: one passed by, another needed gas, and the line kept growing. They could not drive to the aid station because Marcus could have been disqualified. Tessa arrived about ten minutes late, around 9:30 p.m., in freezing wind. She changed Marcus’s clothes and socks, only to discover that the replacement toe socks belonged to his brother and were too small. Marcus’s knee, foot, and blistered toe were already painful, and the sock change made him hurt more. Tessa calls the late arrival and wrong socks her first “double bogey.”

By the time Marcus reached mile 55 around 4 a.m., his knee and foot pain had become severe. Tessa and Marcus’s brother arrived an hour early after learning from the first aid-station experience. Marcus spent about 50 minutes being taped by a physical-therapy volunteer, far longer than the 45–50 minutes Tessa had budgeted for all aid stations combined. The tape job felt ineffective, especially the heavy wrapping around his ankle, so Marcus removed much of it. His headache finally disappeared around this point, but his foot and knee continued worsening. Tessa had prepared to run 14 miles with him, but Marcus told her he was in a “really bad head space” and would probably walk or barely jog. Her anxiety about slowing him down disappeared when he was moving at roughly a 14-minute pace; she realized she could keep up and could focus on being his companion rather than his coach or physical therapist. Before the race, Marcus had jokingly—or at least bluntly—asked whether she needed a new pacer after she worried about failing to maintain a 10-minute mile. Now his injury made the issue irrelevant. They moved through the darkness with headlamps and trekking poles, eventually watching a sunrise Tessa calls one of the most beautiful she has ever seen. Marcus was quiet, groaning whenever he struck a rock, and openly miserable, but he remained kind. Tessa kept the mood light by reminding him that each rock was already behind him and ranking whether he hated the trail more than Speedgoat. The 14 miles took about five and a half hours, yet Tessa calls it one of her favorite dates they have ever had.

After their 14 miles together, Marcus sat at the next aid station while his brother examined his knee and ankle. Standing up caused him to wobble because his stabilizing muscles were failing, and he faced roughly 30 more miles, including a painful downhill. He and his brother tried to climb, but after about a mile Marcus decided he could not endure another ten hours at a 25-minute pace. He called Tessa from the shuttle and told her he was withdrawing at 71 miles. Tessa supported the decision, emphasizing that 71 miles was farther than he had ever gone and that the goal was to finish healthy. She had initially wanted him to continue and believed he might be able to, but did not want him to spend another 30 miles in extreme pain. She also reframed a DNF: ultra-marathons involve weather, terrain, injuries, and other variables beyond training. She notes that about 180 runners withdrew and that even the Moab 240 had once been canceled after the leader reached mile 200 because of weather. She now has particular respect for the last-place finisher, who may endure for 36 hours. The couple conclude that the race transformed both of them. Tessa learned to offer grace, trust help, and stay loving beside someone in a terrible headspace without trying to control or fix him. Marcus proved to her that he has a high pain tolerance and remarkable self-control, even preserving his trekking poles while angry and hurting. He plans to return to Kodiak 100 next year, while also signing up again for Speedgoat. Their children have gained confidence from seeing the family pursue difficult goals, and the boys finished 5Ks, with the six- and eight-year-olds beating adults on a trail course.

Tessa and Marcus announce that they will return to Big Bear for the Kodiak 100 next year. Marcus says he needs to finish so he can “sleep good at night,” while Tessa is enthusiastic about supporting another year of training and improving the aid stations. Marcus describes the first attempt as a learning experience: he got into excellent shape, learned from the race, and now intends to build on that foundation. Tessa jokes that she has another year to train for the 10-minute miles she once feared she would need to run while pacing him. They may add one more race for Tessa, but leave that as a surprise. They also say a future episode will answer listener questions about the race; listeners are invited to submit questions in the comments. The episode closes by connecting the story to Tessa’s wider message: people can choose who they want to be regardless of circumstances, including when a spouse is in pain, discouraged, or pursuing a goal that disrupts family routines. Tessa thanks listeners for helping make her life as a stay-at-home mother possible. She says that eight years earlier, her family needed only $400 more per month to break even, and that listeners’ engagement with her podcast, membership, and other work helped create the life she now loves. Her final encouragement is to pursue a large goal that may require more than one year—or more than one attempt—to complete. Marcus’s closing advice is simple: “Go after some big goals, because you got this.”