Stories and Articles

50 Miles to Grandma's House

Contributed by Elena Helmerick

Elena has a little fun with the "wildlife"

Life is a great adventure! At least this is how I look at it. I am constantly setting high goals for myself and then using these goals as motivation to do some crazy (but safe) things. The day I ran across a mountain range is a great example of the situations this kind of attitude tends to get me into.

When I was a freshman in college, I would travel at least every other weekend to visit my grandmother in the next town. Seeing as I am from Wyoming, the next town just happened to be about fifty miles away. Also, the Medicine Bow National Forest stood between the two towns, which means there are lots of steep hills. One day, while I was driving to see Grandma Helen, an amazing idea popped into my head: why not run the same route that I drove so often? Soon this fleeting idea became a solid goal in my mind. "I think I can" turned into "I know I can."

It wasn't until the next summer that I finally had the opportunity to carry out my plans. The night before the run, I put together baggies of cut-up energy bars and water bottles to drop along the way. I decided that since it was going to be hot the next day, I would make one water bottle to drink, and one water bottle to pour over my head. Then I went to bed early.

When my alarm woke me the next morning at 4 a.m., I was so excited; I had no problem jumping out of bed. The town was so quiet. Most people weren't up this early on a Sunday morning. I started from my house and began my long journey. By the time the sun rose, I had already run up a huge hill–some would even call it a mountain. I had climbed from 7,200 feet in elevation up to 8,600 feet! A friend had placed my water bottles and snacks every three miles the day before, and I was so thirsty, I even drank the water I was supposed to pour over my head! To make it worse, the temperature was around 90 degrees that day, and the road I was running had no shade.

	Elena enjoying the view from this beautiful outdoor spot.

By mile 30, I figured I couldn't make it another step. Fortunately, my friend arrived on his bike (just in the nick of time!) and rode alongside me the rest of the way. With ten miles to go, I had to power through every step. My legs had turned to heavy lumps of lead, and they were so stiff I had to make a conscious effort for every step I took. It didn't help that the construction on the road forced me to run on a sandy shoulder for about fifteen miles near the end of my run. But step-by-step, minute-by-minute, I got closer to my grandma's front door. When I turned onto her street, I welled up with pride. I knew I had made it. The memory of running up my grandma's sidewalk will always be with me.

Until now, I had only told my closest friends about my feat. In the end, I had done it just to prove to myself that I could, not to boast about it to others. It took me ten hours, four gallons of water, and two weeks of recovery, but I had reached my goal! I am so glad I wasn't too scared to try, because I will always remember the time I ran fifty miles by myself.