A warm meat pie in June Lake. A Rice Krispies treat before a final descent. A friend beside you after a frightening fall.
Ask Lucja, Dalton, and Kim about the Mammoth 200, and these are some of the moments that rise to the surface. Across days and nights in the Eastern Sierra, each woman navigated exhaustion, uncertainty, and the challenge of covering more than 200 miles on foot. Each also found moments of joy and people who helped her keep going.
Our three Paradis Sport ambassadors arrived with different hopes. They left with stories that reveal how personal a journey of this distance can be.
For Lucja, Mammoth was an opportunity to chase her fastest 200-plus-mile time. With six finishes at the distance already behind her, she brought plenty of experience and an ambitious goal.
But a demanding work and travel schedule before the race, combined with the effects of altitude, quickly forced her to reconsider. Her focus shifted to finishing under 100 hours, securing her Western States qualifier, and finding enjoyment along the way.
Even after years of ultrarunning, there were no guarantees.
“These races just never get easier!!”
Dalton came to Mammoth looking for another chance. Earlier that year, she had completed Cocodona, her first race beyond 200 miles. She earned the buckle, but the final 50 miles had felt like an exercise in self-preservation. At the finish, the emotion she expected never came.
Still processing that experience, she asked her husband whether he would drive her from Montana to California for Mammoth as a birthday present. Approaching her 46th birthday, she wanted to try again—for herself and as an example to her daughters.
“My only goal was to finish the distance strong and with a smile on my face.”
Kim wanted to finish uninjured and appreciate the landscape around her. Beneath that goal was a bigger question: could she actually do this?
She had trained and prepared, but still wondered whether she had the mental and physical strength to cover more than 200 miles. Mammoth offered the chance to find out.
“The course was absolutely beautiful and the entire journey over my 4 days was epic…and hard…and AMAZING!!”
Dalton’s race gave her an encouraging discovery: she could recover from a low. During the second day, her legs sometimes felt surprisingly fresh—a welcome contrast to her experience at Cocodona.
There were difficult stretches, too. Before the final big climb, she fell behind on food and struggled until her pacer, Becky, supplied a Rice Krispies treat.
Another low began when her crew accidentally shared the remaining distance in kilometers while she was thinking in miles. Believing she had much farther to go than expected, she headed into a solo nighttime section feeling discouraged. The correction at their next meeting reinforced how strongly her expectations could shape her experience.
Kim’s most frightening moment came on Sunday night, when she fell flat on her face. In the seconds afterward, she worried about a concussion, a broken nose or cheek, and whether fear would make continuing impossible.
With her friend Ryan and crew member and pacer Ruby beside her, she calmed down and recognized that she was more scared than injured. Later, fatigue brought another challenge: by Monday evening, she was falling asleep while walking.
For Lucja, trouble arrived early. Around 20 miles in, she was vomiting as altitude and dust took their toll. Later, the exposed climb from Watterson Summit toward Sawmill Meadow felt like an oven, with no shade and seemingly no end.
She began questioning whether she could finish.
Thinking about Isabella, her crew’s three-year-old daughter, helped her reset. Isabella was cheering for her and believed in her. That encouragement gave Lucja a deeply personal reason to take stock, give her best effort, and continue.
Kim counted sharing the race with Ryan among her greatest highs. His presence, along with Ruby’s support after her fall, became part of what made the experience meaningful.
“Finishing meant so much, but it meant more that I didn’t do it alone.”
For Lucja, support sometimes arrived in the form of a favorite food.
Friends had discovered a meat pie shop in June Lake—a particularly exciting prospect for someone coming from Australia. When they learned it would be closed as the race passed through, her crew member Alex found a frozen pie at a grocery store, arranged to heat it, and served it to her still warm.
What stayed with her was the thought behind it: he understood what that small comfort would mean and made it happen.
She felt that same care from Lisa, Alex, and Isabella, who gave a week to support her; from volunteers keeping runners fed and warm; and from fellow competitors. Early in the race, another runner, Sarah, offered cough lozenges when Lucja was struggling with nausea and a painful throat.
“The people do it for me!”
Dalton found support in Becky’s timely snack, her crew’s presence, and the people waiting at the finish. During difficult moments, she also returned to gratitude for a body that allowed her to explore new places on foot.
Between the hard stretches, there was beauty: peaceful nights and a yellow-orange sliver of moon that looked almost otherworldly.
Over multiple days, clothing becomes one more decision runners hope to get right. All three women prioritized gear that could handle long hours, changing temperatures, and constant movement.
Lucja drew on years of experience, training, race reports, and weather forecasts to prepare. Her Paradis Sport TurboDry Racerback Bra stayed on for the entire 94-hour effort.
“I ended up wearing the one bra for the entire 94 hours and didn’t chafe one little bit!!!”
Dalton favored a simple, streamlined kit built around pieces she could trust. She wore the same Paradis Sport Merino Racerback Sports Bra from start to finish—the very bra she had worn throughout Cocodona.
She reported no marks and appreciated how it managed moisture and changing temperatures.
“I never thought about it once during the race.”
Kim wore two TurboDry Racerback Bras, changing once along the way. At night, she added Seamless Boyshorts under her leggings as temperatures dropped.
“They stayed in place perfectly and I never had to worry about them moving!!”
For each woman, comfort meant having fewer distractions while managing everything the course demanded.
After 94 hours, Lucja was profoundly ready to be done. Alongside that relief came pride in how she had responded when her race became harder than expected.
“Crossing that finish line wasn’t about the time I’d hoped for before the race or whether everything had gone to plan. It was about knowing that when things became far harder than I had imagined, I hadn’t given up.”
She left knowing she wanted to plan her pre-race schedule more carefully—and still eager to chase that personal best.
Dalton found the finish she had hoped for: running hard through the final miles, smiling, and arriving in the arms of people who cared about her.
Mammoth gave her a sense of closure after Cocodona and renewed confidence in her ability to race the distance. She already had ideas about what she might do differently next time.
Kim’s reaction surprised even her.
“I don’t want this to be over.”
After four days, she wanted to stay out there with Ryan and the other runners, continuing to discover what her body and mind could do.
She had sometimes questioned whether she belonged in ultrarunning, dismissing previous 100-mile finishes as easier than other people’s achievements. Mammoth gave her a reason to reconsider those doubts. She finished with greater confidence in her own capabilities.
Their advice reflects the different journeys that brought them to the same finish line.
Lucja encourages preparation, supportive people, and a willingness to put yourself out there.
“Do not be scared of what some might perceive as failure.”
Dalton’s experience offers encouragement to anyone whose first attempt left something unresolved.
“Let curiosity override fear and know you are capable of big scary things. And if things don’t go as planned, don’t be afraid to try again.”
Kim suggests making an overwhelming goal small enough to act on: the next aid station, the next mile, or even the next tree.
You may never want to run 200 miles. But there may be something you want to attempt, return to, or finally believe you belong doing. These three women offer good company for that first step.
