[Editor’s Note: This Community Voices article was written by ultrarunner and breast cancer survivor, Jennifer George.]
“Comfortable Western States weekend,” she mentioned.
I appeared up, shocked to see her. My oncologist by no means got here to my chemotherapy classes. “It was unanimous.” My abdomen knotted. She was referring to the consensus of the tumor board.
As I stand, a yr later, conscious of my ft planted on the bottom, the clock slowly ticking down … 8, 7, 6 … I lookup on the mountain immediately earlier than me, the gateway to the 100 miles I’ve fought so onerous to run. I shut my eyes, really feel the agency leather-based of the chemo infusion chair, the hum of the machines saving my life, and keep in mind. At the moment, I’m working over mountains. This time final yr, with my oncologist, I used to be about to stroll off a cliff.
5, 4, 3 … I inhale a deep breath and open my eyes. The second I’ve been patiently ready for. The second we fearful might by no means come.
Two, 1. Exhale. I carry my proper foot, lean ahead, and run.
Jennifer George racing the 2025 Western States 100. All images courtesy of Jennifer George.
Unfinished Enterprise
The final time I’d run the Western States 100 was in 2015. I usually joked I’d gotten the onerous issues proper, and the simple issues unsuitable. My physique was prepared. However I got here alone, with no crew and a single pacer ready at Foresthill, mile 62 of the race. I by no means made it there. My coronary heart quietly stayed damaged for years — till the pull of Western States returned, delicate at first, then unattainable to disregard.
The primary time it got here again to me, I used to be recent residence from the hospital with my new child daughter. It had been 5 years since my DNF. I checked out her — tiny, excellent — and puzzled, Will I nonetheless need to run Western States? A yr later, pregnant with our son, I made a decision: sure. Earlier than he turned one, I ran my first 50 miler in eight years. I used to be on my manner again.
When a heatwave derailed my first qualifier on the 2023 Cuyamaca 100k, I threw my identify into the Western States donation raffle. What the hell, I assumed. Two months later, on lottery day, I refreshed the web page like a hopeless romantic — and there it was, might identify. “Jennifer George.” The tears got here quick. The enjoyment, infinite.
Raffle winners get a yr to qualify. I sealed the deal in February 2024 on the Black Canyon 100k. I used to be going again. My coronary heart was therapeutic. Or so I assumed.
June 2025: Begin Line to Duncan Canyon
We run beneath the beginning line, crews and household lining the trail and cheering loudly, I’m surprisingly calm. Getting right here had appeared unattainable solely months earlier, so I deal with gratitude to derail any concern of what was about to occur.
Jennifer George initially of the 2025 Western States 100, surrounded by family members.
We make the appropriate flip to start the climb up the Escarpment, the excessive level of the race only some miles in. My coronary heart beats out of my chest. I’m starting to panic. I take deep breaths, making an attempt to get extra oxygen to my lungs. I like to climb. Is that this nerves? A lingering aspect impact of my oral chemotherapy?
The grade lastly ranges out a bit, and I attempt to decrease the shit present occurring in my chest. However I take my first Gu and gag. Are you kidding me, I believe. That is manner too early to be going off the tracks.
I move my household close to the tram, a bit of embarrassed about this early go to to the ache cave. Then the crowds of the Escarpment become visible — a whole bunch lining the path, forming a tunnel to the highest. I need to cry. We’re right here. We’re in it. Jen, you are able to do this, I believe.
Coming excessive of the Escarpment and getting onto singletrack is unbelievable. Unexpectedly my lungs work. We settle right into a purposeful tempo, and discover a rhythm, winding our solution to Lyon Ridge at about mile 10.
We pour out and in of the primary assist station, setting out on the 5.5 miles to Purple Star Ridge (mile 15.5), after which 8.6 miles to Duncan Canyon (mile 24.4). I do know I have to be affected person within the excessive nation. That is the toughest and highest a part of the course, and my well being stays compromised, so I can’t push an excessive amount of right here. I’ll need to make up time elsewhere.
I lastly hit Duncan Canyon and see my expensive mates, Jess and Mer, who on the final minute modified their flights to satisfy me at this assist station particularly, understanding how fearful I’m concerning the excessive nation. I droop within the chair and say, “Yup, that was as sucky as I keep in mind.”
Doused in ice chilly moist towels, I take Pepto in hopes it is going to settle my abdomen. However as a substitute I lean over the sting of the chair and throw up. After three or 4 good empties, I apologize to these round, and proceed to throw up much more.
“Wow, I wanted that.” I say, feeling a lot better.
Extra Pepto, ginger ale, and an epic sponge bathtub from the help station and I’m off. It’s 12:04 p.m. I’ve two hours and 6 minutes to go 5.9 miles to Robinson Flat earlier than its cutoff. It’s going to be shut.
February 2024: My Most cancers Analysis
Two weeks after locking in my Western States spot at Black Canyon, something felt potential — till a second within the bathe when a visceral picture flashed earlier than me. Just lately, a nurse practitioner buddy had informed me a few younger mother who had ignored a lump in her breast that turned out to be Stage 4 breast most cancers. Standing there within the bathe, I assumed, I ought to test myself. For her.
I checked the appropriate aspect. Nothing. I checked the left aspect. What’s that?! A rice kernel inside my breast? I felt it once more. And once more. And once more.
“I’m going to schedule a biopsy,” the radiologist mentioned at an appointment not lengthy later. The vitality shifted, although I didn’t totally perceive why. “You could have a big mass in your breast.”
Okay, I assumed. I can deal with this. It’s in all probability benign. I’m solely 39. I simply crushed a 100k. It will possibly’t be that unhealthy.
He continued, “And your lymph nodes. They appear enlarged. We’re going to biopsy these too.”
“So, if that is most cancers, it may have unfold?” I requested. My breath caught in my throat.
“I simply need you to consider the phrase, ‘treatable,’” he answered.
I may really feel a sob constructing. I pushed it down. My husband, Ben, was touring for work on the time. I wanted him. As an alternative, I requested the radiologist, “However whether it is most cancers, I caught this early, proper?”
I’ll always remember the look on his face. The “rice kernel,” most definitely the one a part of the lump I may really really feel, was 6.8 centimeters in diameter. In breast most cancers phrases, this was large. I additionally had seven to eight lymph nodes that appeared infected, as in, doubtlessly stuffed with most cancers. I considered the girl within the story. Was she a warning or a premonition?
The next weeks had been stuffed with a concern that was so suffocating, it was as if merely present harm. I couldn’t sleep. I used to be trapped in a zombie-like state of panic and concern. And Western States? Now only a merciless joke. I had two younger youngsters. Geno had simply turned two and Lilly was about to show 4.
I wasn’t simply shedding Western States. I may be shedding my life. Had I taken all this without any consideration?
Awaiting the biopsy outcomes, I’d lastly began to return out of the state of immobilization concern had locked me in, and decided. Solely now I’d need to persuade my household to do the identical. “I would like us all to agree that if the outcomes come again something however Stage 4, Western States stays the objective,” I informed all of them.
This felt egocentric, loopy. My household was greater than cause to need to battle. However Western States jogged my memory I wasn’t constructed simply to outlive. And fortunately, my household knew this about me. So, after we went to College of California, San Diego Oncology, having confirmed that each my breast and lymph nodes had been optimistic for most cancers, we had been aligned.
“I believe there’s probability you’re Stage 2. Perhaps Stage 3,” the doctor assistant mentioned. It was now March 20, 2024.
“How lengthy is that this going to take?” I requested. I had 466 days to Western States. “It’s as much as your medical oncologist. My guess is you’ll do chemo first, then surgical procedure, then radiation. It is a journey. There will likely be a variety of ups and downs.” Ha. Telling me, an ultrarunner, a few “journey?” I gave him a understanding look.
“9 to 12 months,” he mentioned.
Twelve months could be out of the query. To not point out, what form would I be in in spite of everything of this? Would my physique have the ability to face up to the beating it takes to organize for a race like Western States after a yr of most cancers therapies?
“What’s it going to take to be completed in 9?” I requested. He checked out me with hesitation, “Nothing can go unsuitable.”
Issues began trying up as we received the outcomes of my scans. I used to be probably Stage 3 — however treatable.
Then got here an indication from above. Assembly my oncologist for the primary time, she pushed the curtain apart, smiled, and mentioned, “How ’bout the Barkley Marathons?!” I almost gasped. It was the spring of 2024 and Jasmin Paris had simply turn out to be the primary girl to complete. This physician, whose palms now held each my life and hope of working Western States, had simply dropped a reference to essentially the most legendary underground race within the sport.
Jen, you’ll run the Western States 100! I assumed.
June 2025: Duncan Canyon to Satan’s Thumb
After my phenomenal puke and rally, I’ve two-plus miles all the way down to Duncan Canyon Creek, adopted by the lengthy climb to Robinson Flat, mile 30.3. As I climb, I test my watch: 12:50 p.m. I’ve an hour and 20 minutes to climb virtually 4 miles and make the cutoff.
I come into Robinson Flat with lower than quarter-hour to spare. I can do that, I believe. I have to get some meals down so as to make the most effective of the canyons forward. My crew palms me chilly rooster and stars soup. It’s excellent. And the clock is ticking. I modify into a chilly, soaked cotton tee and refill my pack. I kiss my infants, then Ben, and I’m on my manner.
Refueling at Robinson Flat.
As I climb out of Robinson, I mentally put together for the work I’ve forward. I had identified this cutoff could be tight, however I really feel calm. I’m nonetheless on observe, I believe. I want to remain cool, eat, and run. In any case, the canyons are by far my favourite a part of this course. As we crest the highest, it’s on. Thirty-one miles down. Sixty-nine to go.
I make nice time to Miller’s Defeat (mile 34.4), and by the point I get to Dusty Corners (mile 38), it’s 3:45 p.m. I have to get to the bottom of Satan’s Thumb (mile 46.2) no later than 6 p.m. to provide myself sufficient time to beat the 7:10 p.m. cutoff on the prime. I’ve 8.2 miles and two hours, quarter-hour to get there. I take off.
As I run, I’m reminded of how this course doesn’t simply demand power — it presses on each weak spot I’ve developed during the last 18 months of most cancers therapy. Medically induced menopause is saving my life, however wrecking my joints and thermoregulation. Shockingly, my physique is holding up. And as I drop into the ultimate steep descent, I spot the swinging bridge on the base of Satan’s Thumb.
I take a look at my watch: 5:45 p.m.
I communicate clearly in my head, One foot in entrance of the opposite. Do. Not. Cease. And for the primary time in hours, 46-plus miles into the race, I take inventory of my situation. My legs really feel nice.
As I’m selecting up momentum, Taylor Swift’s 10-minute “All Too Effectively” performs in my ears. I snort out loud. There I’m, on the steepest climb of the Western States 100, smiling huge, lip syncing gleefully, “trigger there we’re once more on that little city road.”
I turn out to be emotional by considering, If solely I may’ve seen this one yr in the past.
Jennifer’s daughter Lilly spectating at Robinson Flat.
April 2024: Chemotherapy Begins
On April 18, 2024, I began my first of 12 rounds of chemotherapy. I searched in all places for tales of ladies who saved working via breast most cancers therapy. As an alternative, I discovered the other. But when I had any probability of working Western States, I needed to run throughout chemo.
The primary sort of chemo got here with ample unwanted effects: neuropathy, hair loss, low purple and white blood cells, nausea, fatigue, bone ache, and mouth sores. The listing went on.
Ever optimistic, Jennifer started her countdown to Western States whereas doing chemotherapy.
I’d determined I’d run 20 miles per week together with three power classes. It might be onerous. But when individuals thought I skilled onerous for races earlier than most cancers, wait till they noticed me prepare to reside.
Each week, I hit these milestones. If I had nausea? I ran. Fatigue? I ran. It wasn’t fairly, however I received it completed. My tumor had shrunk. I appeared robust. I began to consider I’d make it out of this mildly unscathed.
June 2025: Satan’s Thumb to Foresthill
After I attain the highest of Satan’s Thumb (mile 47.8), it’s 6:28 p.m. I had made up 42 minutes on the cutoff. I really feel triumphant. Let’s. Fucking. Go.
The following part, the descent into El Dorado Canyon, is sufficient to make even the most effective runners pray for a climb. However immediately, I transfer with ease. The solar is simply beginning to decrease behind the peaks, and seeing Michigan Bluff within the distance fills me with hope. God, I like this course.
Earlier than I do know it, I’m on the backside, crossing the bridge to the help station. I beeline to the creek for a fast dip earlier than beginning up the climb. We at the moment are greater than midway, having run over 52.9 miles.
Does this climb ever get simpler?! I believe on the two.5 miles out of El Dorado Canyon. Right here, I first discover that I’m beginning to get low on energy. I’m slowing down, however nonetheless transferring with function. After I hit the final stretch of path, then pavement, I run into Michigan Bluff (mile 55.7). I see my husband cheering on the flip and run straight into his arms. I’m nonetheless 40 minutes forward of the cutoff. “I’m going to do that!” I inform him.
It’s the final lovely glow earlier than darkish as my pacer and I set out for Foresthill (mile 62). I curse on the steep downs to Volcano Canyon, after which benefit from the climb out, which feels shockingly simpler and shorter than ordinary. Earlier than we all know it, we hit Bathtub Highway with a mile left to the help.
It’s now 11 p.m. I’m 100 kilometers into the race and nonetheless 40 minutes forward of the cutoffs. Regardless of my legs feeling nice, I want a calorie increase. I eat ramen and query if one other puke sesh is required. However I look with it, really feel with it, and haven’t any want for a backup plan. I very merely have to crush this subsequent part on Cal Road. Lastly, we head off into the darkish.
One other crew cease at Foresthill.
June 2024: Stronger Chemo Therapies
“It was unanimous.”
With roughly 12 months to toe the road, the tumor board confirmed my worst concern. I wanted the stronger and extra brutal A.C. chemo in spite of everything. The “Purple Satan,” one of the vital poisonous chemos that exist. All of the sudden, every thing felt darkish once more, and Western States disappeared behind the concern of dying.
It was all I may do to maintain placing one foot in entrance of the opposite. Jen, it’s a must to do that, I assumed.
June 2025: Foresthill to Cal 3
I depart Foresthill, centered on the duty forward. For months I’d thought, If I get to Foresthill, I can end. However within the second, 38 miles nonetheless appears far. We have to transfer. And to do this, I have to eat.
The downhills are beginning to take extra out of me. I’d lingered too lengthy at Foresthill and didn’t depart till 11:20 p.m. Now, Cal 1 (mile 65.7) feels prefer it’s taking too lengthy to get to, and we arrive at 12:18 a.m. I do know the subsequent stretch — the rollers — would demand every thing I’ve. My abdomen was formally not cooperating. Regardless of it being the midnight, and having been transferring for 19-plus hours, I’m extra centered than ever. I drink broth, choke down a gel, and push on.
To my shock, we make good work on these rollers, and when the Elevator Shaft comes, I run down it properly.
Reaching Cal 2 (mile 70.7), I want a reset. I seize a tree and puke. My pacer jokes he’s “seen higher.” We have now some runnable sections coming and I have to make good use of them. I attempt to eat some grilled cheese and soup, and out we go.
We transfer properly on the one-and-a-half-mile descent, however quickly after, every thing feels more durable and slower. My abdomen is betraying me. I’m stopping for a loo break each mile. Lastly, we hit Six-Minute Hill. This actually sucks.
As soon as excessive, we hurry all the way down to Cal 3 (mile 73). I start doing the mathematics in my head. We have now 5 miles to Rucky Chucky (mile 78) and could be forward of the 5 a.m. cutoff, no query. However now I used to be calculating towards the ultimate cutoffs. Six hours to do 22 miles, after working 78 miles? That is a lot tighter than I’d realized. I start to panic.
July 2024 to January 2025: Ringing the Bell
By spherical two of A.C. chemo, all my facial hair was gone. My scalp hair held on, due to Amma, my chilly cap. Standing up felt like I’d simply sprinted up a mountain and I used to be afraid to be left alone with my very own youngsters — fearful if one thing occurred, I couldn’t carry them. Buddies stepped in to assist, my chemo crew.
By the third spherical, I may barely stroll up the steps. First, I’d attempt to stroll across the block. Then a mile. Then three. However working felt unattainable — till eight days after that third A.C. infusion.
I stood on the finish of my driveway, palms on my knees, catching my breath, staring down the highway. I needed to attempt. I stood up, lifted my proper foot, and leaned ahead. It was ugly. And I used to be crying — tears of pleasure. After I stopped, I’d run 1.2 miles. It would as properly have been the end line at Western States.
I can do that, I assumed, as tears streamed down my face.
On August 23, 2024 — 311 days to Western States — I accomplished my sixteenth and last spherical of chemo, having run over 315 miles throughout therapy. For the primary time, I may not really feel that rattling rice kernel.
Sixteen rounds of chemo down, with 311 days to go till Western States.
Six weeks later, I’d have surgical procedure to take away my most cancers, and was much more hopeful when my surgeon cleared me early to start radiation since I used to be therapeutic so properly. Radio-oncology warned me of potential lifelong cardiac points and lowered lung capability. I used to be sick of listening to the phrase “fatigue.” However I knocked down all 30 rounds of radiation, one after the other. And I saved working.
Then lastly, on January 9, 2025, I rang the ultimate bell. Eight months and 22 days later. Towards all odds, we’d completed it. With 170 days to Western States.
Ringing the bell to have a good time the tip of radiation remedy, surrounded by family and friends, with 170 days to Western States.
June 2025: Rucky Chucky to Inexperienced Gate
Out on the path, with solely the sunshine of our headlamps, my thoughts is racing. My physique is able to crush 25 extra miles, apart from my abdomen. I’ve to repair this. Is it too late? Lastly, a glow illuminates the darkness across the bend. It’s the river crossing and I really feel hope. I see the final climb, then the volunteers within the water. I’m at Rucky Chucky (mile 78) and it’s 4:29 a.m. I’ve 6.5 hours to go 22 miles.
On the Rucky Chucky river crossing.
I now have chafing and friction irritating me in a number of locations. After a fast repair, I droop in a chair with my complete crew bearing down on me.
“16:40-minute miles,” they are saying, the tempo I’ll have to run to make the cutoffs to return. If I wasn’t bonking, that is do-able. My legs are prepared, however my abdomen isn’t.
That mentioned, quitting shouldn’t be on the desk. My subsequent pacer, Brit, grabs my hand, seems me sq. within the eyes, and says, “We have to go. Now.”
We maintain palms as we make our manner all the way down to the river. I’d dreamt of this second so many instances. Crossing this river meant I used to be going to complete. However being right here now, my dream has by no means appeared additional away. Would we make it? May we make it?
We get out on the opposite aspect of the river to make the climb as much as Inexperienced Gate (mile 79.8). Brit means enterprise and having her with me is reassuring. By the point we make it to the highest, the solar is giving first mild. I’d made it to the second dawn, and it’s overwhelmingly lovely.
January to Might 2025: Coaching on Empty
Now that I’d rung the ultimate bell, Western States coaching was lastly entrance and heart. One impediment nonetheless hovered — the one I’d feared from the very starting. Able to unraveling all of it. The sort of factor you’ll be able to’t out-train.
I used to be easing into 50-mile weeks. I’d run the Carlsbad Half Marathon after laps on my favourite mountain, after which tackled a neighborhood course with 33 miles with 9,000 ft of climbing — all in seven days.
Then, on a routine five-miler, I needed to cease and stroll. I used to be utterly exhausted. I got here into the storage, holding again tears, after I noticed Ben. On the sight of him, I broke down. I mentioned, “If I don’t have purple blood cells, I can’t run Western States.”
The oral chemo that was attending to me. I nonetheless had 10 years of hormone remedy, and 4 years of oral chemo forward. Inside weeks of beginning it, my tempo dropped considerably. My purple blood cells had tanked.
My physician ran each take a look at. The outcomes, and a selection, got here rapidly. I may push via and hope that the variations would come, or cease working to permit my physique to adapt extra rapidly. To be trustworthy, I needed to give up. Pissed off and pissed off, I continued “working.” I begrudgingly put one foot in entrance of the opposite. Week after week. Slowly, my physique started to adapt. I wasn’t quick, however I used to be nonetheless transferring. And in that second, it was sufficient.
Between January and Might, I put down six extremely efforts, together with a back-to-back on the Grand Canyon of Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim and Rim-to-River-to-Rim, greater than 40 miles in the future and 20 the subsequent. Someplace on the South Rim, I spotted: I wasn’t simply surviving anymore. I used to be preventing. I don’t want velocity to complete Western States, I assumed. I simply have to maintain transferring.
June 2025: Inexperienced Gate to Auburn Lake Trails
At Inexperienced Gate, tensions are excessive, and full daylight is again. We have now over 5.5 miles to Auburn Lake Trails (mile 85.5) — and this isn’t how I’d envisioned this part.
The urgency is palpable. Everybody round us is transferring rapidly. I make good work of the primary mile — Brit even has to run to catch up. However the farther we get from Inexperienced Gate, the extra depleted I turn out to be. Brit urges me to maneuver sooner. I’m scraping the underside of the barrel.
Each time I toe the road of an extremely, I ponder: How a lot can I undergo? Yesterday and immediately, I’ve answered that — defiantly. I’m not afraid of the ache cave. I simply haven’t any fuel within the tank.
Brit continues to plead with me to maneuver sooner. Every time, I say, “I like you,” and she or he says it again. It’s 6:45 a.m. I’ve been working for 25 hours and 45 minutes. Sadly, the clock is now transferring sooner than me.
We move a memorial on our left. “I believe this implies we’re shut?” I sat. It’s 7 a.m. We have now 10 minutes to beat the cutoff at Auburn Lake Trails assist station. We can do that, I say to myself as I run. Hope is constructing. I’m envisioning how I’ll transfer via the help station. However simply as we see the help within the distance, we hear the horn saying the cutoff. My Western States journey is over.
We don’t cease transferring. Not till we attain the help station and I sink right into a chair — totally spent after 26 hours and 20 minutes, and 85.5 miles. There aren’t any tears. No remorse. To my shock, the emotion that overwhelms me is gratitude.
Gratitude for the possibility to really feel this damaged. To have chased one thing so onerous, it wrecked me. For the thread Western States had turn out to be — the one I clung to when every thing else was unraveling. When most cancers tried to take every thing, this dream turned my function and jogged my memory to note life once more. Even the little issues. Particularly the little issues.
The Path That Hope Carves
I used to consider we honored these nonetheless ready for his or her Western States second by crossing the end line — that the buckle made our journeys worthy. However most cancers taught me that the deepest honoring comes from toeing the road with a coronary heart that dares to dream.
The reality is, none of us are promised a end — not the elites, not the fighters, not anybody. And after we don’t get there, after we fall quick, we feature one thing heavier than remorse. We feature the start of one thing new.
We don’t depart empty-handed. We depart modified.
And someplace deep down, we all know: This wasn’t the tip. It was the turning into.
As a result of even larger than the end, of any race or impediment that life presents, is the journey — and the path that hope quietly carves as we go.
Name for Feedback
- Did you see Jennifer on the 2025 Western States 100? How impressed had been you by her story?
- Have you ever used working or a objective race that can assist you get via a significant impediment in your life?
