What It’s Really Like to Crew and Pace Cocodona 250

Jun 17

97.5 miles. 35+ hours on foot. 5 days of crewing and pacing. Almost no sleep. 1 burger-related emotional breakdown.

I’ve been meaning to write this for weeks — but after Cocodona 250, I needed time to let everything settle. If you’ve ever paced or crewed an ultra, you know it’s not just about showing up and handing off snacks. You get pulled into the race in a whole different way. You feel every high and low with your runner. You break a little. You stretch a lot. You get cracked open — and somehow stronger by the end.

This year, I got the absolute honor of pacing and crewing my friend Ashley Durstine for 97.5 miles of the Cocodona 250. Four years of dreaming, saving, and training led her here. And I got to be right beside her for the messy, emotional, awe-filled ride.

Here’s what it looked like — the real, unfiltered version from a crew car and muddy trail somewhere in Arizona.

Why I Said Yes to Cocodona

Ashley and I met through trail running, and I knew she had this 250-miler on her radar for a long time. She’s no stranger to going big — she finished Oregon 200 a couple years ago — but Cocodona is its own beast.

When she asked me to pace and crew, I said yes without hesitation and my type A personality eventually led to me being crew chief. Fortunately, she trusted me and I trusted her. I knew she had done the work. And I knew that no matter what happened out there, we’d figure it out together.

The Early Days: Start Line to Mingus Mountain

Sunday, May 4 (Packet Pickup) – We picked up Ashley’s bib and spot tracker, snapped a few photos, and chatted with friends. You could feel the buzz in the air.

Monday, May 5 (Race Start) – I met Ashley at her house before 3 a.m., and she greeted me cheerfully with, "I haven’t slept at all!" But she was calm, ready. We headed to the start line where she met up with Ben, and at 5 a.m., they were off.

I hung at Bumble Bee Ranch for a bit before heading toward Crown King Aid Station (Mile 36.5, 10,000+ ft of gain). Ashley rolled in after 10.5 hours and immediately asked, "There’s barbecue here, right?" That pulled pork hit the spot. We got her set up for the cold night ahead, loaded with headlamps, layers, and everything she’d need until I saw her again the next morning in Prescott.

Also, this was the section that Ashley and I did a training run for.

I camped out in the back of Ashley’s SUV and like most crew during this race... woke up every hour to check her spot tracker.

Tuesday, May 6 (Whiskey Row Aid Station, Mile 77ish) – I met Ashley again in Prescott. Kirstin was supposed to be there but wouldn’t make it in time. Ashley came in wheezing — her asthma had kicked in from the rain and elevation. I had to break the news about Kirstin, but thankfully Ben’s family was there and agreed to drive Ashley’s SUV.

Ashley and I left together, and I officially began pacing.

We moved steadily through the Granite Dells while the skies drizzled. But the next section? Absolutely dumped rain. We slogged through muddy, flat ranchland, climbed over slick ladders, and made our way to Fain Ranch (over mile 80). Ashley’s lips were tinged blue from the cold. We fueled her up with broth and tea and changed into dry clothes — thanks to Kirstin who had arrived with gear and jackets.

We left Fain in better spirits, but the rain came back hard. The next stretch to Mingus Mountain Aid Station (Mile 108) was long — about 15-16 miles through muddy fields and along highways where passing cars honked in support. Eventually we hit singletrack and began the steep climb up Mingus.

It got dark and colder. Ashley’s wheezing worsened. We stopped for her to sit and eat more than once. Her strength and attitude through it all blew me away. Finally, we arrived at the top where we had warmth, a building, and the world’s best lasagna.

Ashley crashed in the sleep station while Kirstin brought in dry clothes. I tried to sleep in the SUV but never fully got there. Everything was damp. I skipped caffeine (mistake), and by the time we headed out after midnight on Wednesday, May 7, I was already feeling it.

Through the Night: Mingus to Jerome and Sedona (Miles 108 to does it even matter anymore)

We headed out from Mingus just after midnight. The descent was rocky, wet, and slow in the dark. We couldn’t see much, but we kept moving. Ashley needed frequent stops to eat and manage her breathing. I was dragging — no real sleep, no caffeine, and I could feel myself slipping.

As we moved closer to Jerome (halfway point!), things got weird. I tried to take another gel. Got nauseous. Puked quietly off-trail. Then the hallucinations hit — I was seeing figures in the trees. Grim Reapers, specifically. I knew they weren’t real, but that didn’t help much.

Ashley, meanwhile, just kept going. Never complained. Never questioned whether she’d finish. She simply kept troubleshooting, moving, adjusting.

We arrived at Jerome as the sun came up. I needed a break — over 24 hours without sleep, and I knew I was no longer helpful. Ashley took off solo for the 8-mile stretch to Dead Horse (mile 133.9), and Kirstin and I drove ahead to meet her.

When Ashley came in, it was warm and exposed. We got her fueled up again, and this was where I joined to pace the section to Deer Pass (Mile 147). This was probably the most boring section we had. The sun was setting again, and we made sure they had headlamps and cold-weather gear before heading out into what would be a long night.

We headed for Sedona Posse and this was a rough night. Ashley was in a dream-like state and I started hallucinating. It feel weird. We got to a water drop point and other runners were there. We’re all in headlamps. Insert Robert and Mike here. They started talking to us and Ashley talked about how she felt like she just had a psychotic episode. They asked if we wanted to walk with them and Ashley said “no” and I said “yes”. So we walked with them for a bit. They perked us up as we chatted. Eventually they went ahead when we were feeling “good” then we caught up to them because they decided to take a dirt nap.

We kept trucking and the last 4-5 miles felt like forever (a recurring theme) but we got to the next aid station.

Sedona Posse to Fort Tuthill (Miles - I don’t even know)

Ashley came into Sedona Posse just after 2:30 a.m. on Thursday, and it was the best sight — Nina and Alan were waiting for us. She got an hour of sleep, we got her feet looked at, and I tried to eat something myself. But this is also where the infamous burger incident happened. I asked for a burger after pacing over 77 miles, and they told me no because I wasn’t pacing the next section. Cue: tears. (Yes, it was the sleep deprivation... but also, come on.)

Kirstin saved the day again with food from the SUV, and we all kept moving forward. Ashley left with Alan to head through Red Rock and the heat of the day. Meanwhile, we made our way to Foxboro Ranch, where Ashley had to go solo for a short section due to owl habitat restrictions.

From there, we regrouped at Munds Park. Ashley came in smiling. She was still wheezing but absolutely determined. Nina took over pacing here, and I got to rest for a bit, catch up with a couple of my own athletes volunteering at the aid station, and eat.

Next stop: Fort Tuthill (mile 214ish maybe), where Kirstin would head home. I reorganized the SUV, got in a much-needed nap, and braced for the final push. Ashley came in around 2:30 a.m. on Friday, ate a ton of oatmeal, and passed her mental evaluation. Then she headed back out — solo — for another 16 miles.

We drove ahead to Walnut Canyon, which ended up being Ashley’s low point. She came in crying, convinced she wouldn’t finish. We reminded her what day and time it actually was (it was Friday morning). She perked back up fast and ate three egg burritos. One to-go.

Alan paced her out from there while I prepped for the final miles.

The Final Climb and Finish (Miles 237 to 256)

Ashley and Alan crushed the section to Walnut Canyon Vista where I jumped back in to pace the final miles.

We knew what was ahead — Elden. The beast. A big, climb after 230+ miles on her feet. But something had shifted in Ashley. Her wheezing had finally stopped. Her legs showed up. And she powered up that climb, passing other runners like a woman possessed.

Somewhere mid-climb, she stopped for a few bites of brisket we’d carried from an earlier aid station (shoutout to Pete’s Meats). You can train for months, but sometimes you just need smoked meat at 9,000 feet.

The descent was long and technical. Her ankles were so swollen by then that her mobility was limited, but we moved carefully, passing a couple runners who had stopped for their own dirt naps.

We ran out of water — not ideal, but we made it to the final aid station and knew there was only 3.9 miles left. The volunteers were incredible. Quick refill. Vegan quesadilla. In and out.

Then came the final stretch — a mix of dusty trail, neighborhoods, and random front yards. At one point, we passed a house blaring Alicia Keys’ "Girl on Fire" just for the runners. We both laughed. It was one of those delirious, grateful giggles you get when your heart is full and your brain is fried.

In Buffalo Park, we saw folks cheering. Then Flagstaff pavement. Then... the finish chute.

As the live stream picked her up, one of the commentators said, "Ashley Durstine has been moving since Monday morning. It’s Friday night now. Most people have worked their full work week, and she’s been running this entire time."

Ashley teared up. I did too. I dropped back so she could have her solo moment across the finish line. And then I sprinted around the chute to give her the biggest hug.

She did it.

What I’ll Never Forget

The excitement. The rain. The hallucinations. The laughter. The damn burger. The people.

But mostly — Ashley’s strength. Her presence. Her ability to face every obstacle with a solution, not a meltdown. She never once said she was quitting. She just kept going.

And I got to be there.

Have you ever paced or crewed someone through something huge? What’s the wildest or most powerful moment you remember?