This post is by Jackie Ayers, an Another Mother Runner brand ambassador who writes occasionally for us. Jackie lives in Bend, Oregon, with her husband and two young sons.

By the fourth 5K go-round, the novelty had worn off: I’d memorized the route us 30 race participants would ultimately run 10 times. Dodge the branch hanging too low .5 miles in, check. Avoid the horse “apples” on the multi-use trail along Miles 1 and 2, check. Grab some blackberries from the bushes lining the trail around mile 2.5, check. Be annoyed until the finish line by any berry seeds stuck in my teeth, check and check.

The blackberries at 2.5 miles

After the adrenaline of the event no longer served to get me to the start line of each round of Death by 5K, I instead focused on my appreciation of being able to do this wonderfully hard thing and on the bragging rights I’d earn in just a few more hours. Every 2.5 hours, starting at 8 a.m., us race participants lined up in the middle of a state park and ran or walked 5K. The subsequent round began precisely 2.5 hours after the previous one began, so our rest time in between was determined by when we finished the previous one. We started and ended at the same place and were able to car camp nearby.

Waiting for the next start in the middle of the night

Round 8, which started at 1:30 a.m., was the toughest for me. The weather was chilly, almost cold, and muggy, which meant shivering at the starting line. I ran some of it—and I walked some of it. I dodged the branch and the horse droppings, but I did not grab a blackberry. I finished, then I asked Jeremy, one of the race organizers, which rounds are traditionally the hardest for participants, and he said 7 and 8. I agreed wholeheartedly. Then I staggered off to climb into my vehicle and blasted the heat to try and dry off a bit before I covered 3.1 miles again at 4 a.m.

As dawn broke, I pulled up the most recent Another Mother Runner podcast to keep me company through the final 5K, and I reflected on the event. I was tired, of course—but also weirdly jubilant about the whole experience. I ducked, dodged, and lightly bounced through the last round. As I sprinted across that field one last time to (finally!) retrieve an adorable little Death by 5K finishers’ coffin, I felt super-proud of myself and how I physically and mentally endured this challenging, quirky race event.