Why I signed up for a 100-Mile Trail Run Race (when that was never the plan)

It wasn’t supposed to be 100 miles

When I first started dreaming about running ultras, I never planned to run 100 miles. My goal has always been simple: go a little further each time.

After my last 100 km trail race, the natural next step was another slightly longer challenge — something around 110–115 km. That felt realistic, aligned, and exciting.

So I set my eyes on an international ultra of 115 km that a friend and I had talked about for years. It was going to be our adventure.

When plans fall apart

Only problem? The event organiser kept saying they didn’t yet know the route or couldn’t open registration. Months passed. Still nothing.

And if you know me even a little, you know I have very little patience for poor organisation. (I once ended up creating my own self-supported Ironman because of that exact frustration!)

Preparing for an ultra takes serious time, logistics, and money. You don’t just “wing it.” Without knowing the route, terrain, or elevation, how could I train properly?

Four months out from race day, there was still radio silence. So, my friend decided to keep waiting, and I decided to pivot.

The search for “something in between”

Here’s the thing about ultras — the jump between distances is huge.

When you start running, there’s so much in between:
5 km → 10 km → 10 miles → half-marathon → marathon.

But once you step into the ultra world, it suddenly leaps from 50 km → 100 km → 100 miles. There isn’t much in between.

So I started searching. I wanted something nearby, affordable, challenging yet logistically realistic. And that’s when I found this 100-mile race.

A fast, rather flat course following a river (I love hilly courses!). Known to flood easily. In October. Absolutely nothing like what I had originally envisioned.

And yet… it ticked a few big boxes.
✅ Close to home
✅ Western States 100 qualifier (a lifelong dream of mine)
✅ And still within reach timing-wise: I knew it’d be a stretch of my training phase because this race was 6 months later than originally planned.

So — I signed up.

Qualifying (and re-defining “ready”)

You can’t just sign up for a 100-miler; you have to qualify. When I got that confirmation, I had mixed feelings.

Part pride. Part disbelief. And part “wait… what have I just done?”

Even after registering, my goal was still the same: run further than ever before. If I could go 101 km or more, I’d be happy.

Somewhere along the way, though, the narrative around me shifted. People started saying things like “You’re running a 100-miler?!” And I found myself caught between curiosity and pressure — maybe I could do it all?

It’s easy to get swept up by external expectations, even in something as personal as running.

Remembering my why

The truth is — this journey isn’t about the number. It’s about how I get there.

I don’t want to force my body or chase ego-driven goals. I want to train my way there, in a holistic, sustainable way — with the same MindFuelBody philosophy I share with my clients.

That means listening to my body, honouring rest, fuelling well, and keeping the joy alive in the process.

So yes, I’m attempting to run 100 miles — but my real goal is to go further than I ever have, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

If I can do that — after the chaos, the lessons, and the resilience this year has demanded — I’ll already have won. (You can read more about when my taper phase became damage control here.)

Looking ahead

In January in 2025, I decided that 2026 will be my Adventure Year — no races, no pressure, just wild, soulful challenges for the mind and body.

This 100-mile attempt feels like the closing chapter before that. A way to honour how far I’ve come, and to run toward what’s next with an open heart.

Because sometimes the races we never planned to do become the ones that teach us the most.