In the middle of the backcountry in the Sierras, ultrarunner Lizzy Fowler’s knee went from feeling normal to swelling up to the size of a grapefruit. Her paced slowed, each step became a painful labor, and gradually other parts of her leg began to fail. The tendons in her ankle seized up like they were in a vice grip, making every foot of descent an exercise in cautious, careful movement.
It was her breathing, however, that was bothering her the most — or rather, the inability to do so. As orange, hazy skies rained down ash from nearby wildfires, Fowler struggled to get enough oxygen. Even with an N95 mask, the smoke was too thick for the 29-year-old to move without wheezing and coughing. With stinging, teary eyes, she could barely see 30 feet in front of her.
With one look at her pacer, the duo knew they had to pull out of her fastest known time attempt on the John Muir Trail (JMT). Fowler’s knee got so painful, in fact, that her pacer had to carry her the last 2 miles out. It was a harrowing exit that left her ambitious FKT unfinished and unrealized. Yet she lay in her pacer’s arms feeling victorious.
While smoke from the Garnet Fire forced Fowler to pull out of her attempt after mile 150, she’d successfully battled demons and raised awareness and money for a deeply personal cause. Less than a year prior, Fowler had been sexually assaulted on a run, but she determined to use her FKT attempt of the JMT to raise funds for Take Back The Night, a nonprofit that supports sexual assault survivors.
“I didn’t speak out for my own good, because I definitely couldn’t have done that, but because of the amount of other women and men that had been through sexual assault,” Fowler, who’d been outspoken on social media in the wake of her attack, told GearJunkie. “I felt like I needed to give it a voice, to help those who may not ever be able to speak about it, to realize that they still have the strength to overcome it,” she said.
Lizzy Fowler: Survivor
While road running in Florida in December 2024, Fowler was attacked while in a public bathroom. As soon as the legal case finished, she headed to the Sierras and spent months training to process what had happened.
“It just allowed me to have the space to feel comfortable, to let it rip and actually face the trauma, face the PTSD, and not feel judged … to face what I needed to face head on, versus, like, distracting myself and disassociating,” she said.
As she spent the summer mastering the steep elevation changes of the Sierras, she found solace, space, and healing in the mountains. The monumentality of the challenge of the JMT was part of the appeal for Fowler. She calls the mountains her mirror, and the John Muir Trail would be the ultimate way for her to look back at herself.
“It’s a relentless terrain. It doesn’t let up,” she admitted. “I really knew that if I went after something that scared me and intimidated me, that it would teach me way more about myself than if I chose to go after something that I knew I could get in advance.”
She partnered with Take Back The Night, a nonprofit that had been instrumental in her own healing.
“Take Back The Night is a foundation that actually helped me after my sexual assault, and they provide hands-on resources for survivors, which range from everything from helping assist with legal fees to helping you with your medical bills,” she said.
John Muir Trail FKT Attempt
The JMT, a 223-mile trail from Mt. Whitney to Yosemite Valley, is a premier route for endurance athletes. As it traverses the Sierra Nevadas, it gains about 47,000 feet in elevation, making it an extremely physically demanding route.
Fowler was attempting to get the northbound, supported record, set in 2017 by Darcy Piceu with a time of 3 days, 7 hours, and 57 minutes.
An established ultra runner, Fowler was no stranger to pain, discomfort, and suffering going into the attempt. Her first race was a 145-mile ultra in England; from there, she went on to compete in races like the Moab 240, Mammoth Trailfest, and Keys 100.
What surprised her about the JMT was just how awful she felt right out of the gate. Within the first 40 miles, she experienced stomach trouble and severe nausea, and had to adjust her nutrition plan on the fly.
“That was the first time I had ever had a race where immediately I was in a low,” she said. “I felt like crap, but I was just like, ‘I can only control my effort and my attitude.’ And I just fully leaned into that.”
When she met her crew for the second time at Bishop Pass (about 100 miles in), Fowler was wracked with self-doubt.
“I just looked at them exhausted, and I was like, ‘I need the courage to do this.’ And my crew chief looked at me, and he said, ‘You’re the only person on this team that doesn’t think you can do this,’” Fowler recounted.
Victory in the Face of Defeat
That was all Fowler needed to hear. She attacked the next session with bravado, making excellent time. In that headspace, she recalled realizing just how far she had come.
“I started crying because I realized that a few months ago, I couldn’t even leave my bedroom because of the PTSD I was having. And this woman who’s out here in the absolute middle of nowhere would be so proud of the woman that showed up to be out here and work through her shit,” she said.
But at around mile 150, she ran into a wall of smoke from the Garnet Fire.
The AQI hovered around 400 to 500 (an AQI of 50 is healthy, and an AQI of 100 is considered moderate). Fowler had already developed a cough and was having trouble breathing, in addition to experiencing swelling and pain in her leg.
There was no question that Fowler and her team should end the run.
“We just knew that we needed to get out because it was apocalyptic. The whole sky was orange, and we couldn’t see probably 40 to 50 feet around us. It was completely smoked out,” she said.
Fowler exited the trail after 50 hours.
After the FKT, Fowler Is Just Getting Started
While, of course, she was disappointed she didn’t get to finish, Fowler is at peace with her run. Through her efforts, Fowler managed to raise nearly $9,000 from grassroots donations for the organization.
“The message that I wanted to put out is that we [sexual assault survivors] have to continue to show up for ourselves, to overcome that fear, overcome that doubt, trauma, and love ourselves and choose to see our lives as sacred and special,” she said.
And Fowler is already planning for next year. She plans to go after the overall northbound, supported record — 2 days, 19 hours, and 26 minutes — set by François D’Haene in 2017.
Read the full article here
