The Lost Dutchman Half Marathon 2026

I don't even know where to start with this race. Although I only registered in late December, I've spent years thinking about what my 40th birthday race would be. The decision to run the Lost Dutchman came down to a few factors, and in the end, since it was possible, it was important to me that I run on my actual birthday. A Sunday birthday the year I turned 40? Probably another sign.

As I weighed my options, the concept of a desert sunrise race spoke to me more and more. It just felt like it would be something special...and it was.

Matt and I had a low-effort dinner in on Valentine's Day, which worked out well given how chaotic our weekend had been so far. An Udi's frozen lasagne, bagged salad, and the cupcake from Jennifer was the perfect fuel. I began to feel the nerves set in, but I managed to sleep pretty well.

Race morning, I was up and moving by 5:15am. I had most of an unfrosted cinnamon toaster pastry and a small coffee with milk. By 6:00, we were out the door and on our way to Prospector Park. It was still dark, but as we drove, the beginnings of a gorgeous sunrise began to paint the sky. As the first streaks of red illuminated the Superstition Mountains in the distance, I choked back tears for the first of what would be many times that day.

I pulled up the ChatGPT tarot reading of the sun card I pulled in Portland and read it out loud to Matt. I had forgotten so many of the details, and it reaffirmed that I was in the right place for this moment.

We got prime parking, stopped for my second bathroom break of the morning, and made our way to the start. Jennifer had told me this was a small, hometown sort of race, but it was expertly setup and executed. 

I had time to take pre-race photos, get my gear situated, use the bathroom one last time, get a pic with Jennifer, and down a UCAN (which I did while standing over a garbage can with another lady, who also happened to be eating a UCAN).

In the corral, I blew Matt a kiss and then he went ahead to get a good view for the start. I chose a playlist, started the Rally app so the voice notes people had left me would play at each mile, and found a spot near the 10:00 pace sign. Before I knew it, the race began.

In the first half mile, I started nice and easy and tried to find a some space where I could settle in and just run my race. Then we turned the first corner, and the view I had been waiting for appeared. The Superstition Mountains rose up ahead of us, streaks of gold lighting the sky. 

As I ran toward the sunrise, leaving my 30s behind, I felt myself running into my future. That moment was everything. It was awesome, in the original sense of the word, and I teared up.

Half a mile later, my first Rally voice message from Elizabeth came over my headphones, and the crying continued. Deciding to use this app for this race was the best decision! The messages were uplifting, hilarious, motivating, and just what I needed to get me through this race.

For those first four miles, the run was effortless. I was overwhelmed by the views and how perfectly the morning had turned out so far. I had built this race up in my head as a perfect, beautiful way to usher in my 40s, and so far, it was meeting every expectation. The sun was well up, but it didn't feel too hot, and we had a little breeze, too. I was actually surprised how calm and mentally strong I felt despite the sunny weather. I felt good.

Then we turned another corner, and the hills started.

I had done research before choosing this race, and I remembered seeing one review on Race Raves that insisted this race wasn't flat and did, in fact, have a whole lot of hills. But none of the other reviews called this out, so I assumed "rolling hills" meant "gentle", like what I'm used to running on the Burke Gilman. 

The elevation chart with my run/walk intervals overlaid.

Alas, no. These hills were big, long, and relentless. They started at mile 4.5 and by 5.5 I realized they weren't going to stop anytime soon. The turnaround was a mile ahead, and then I'd have to run these same hills back until the turn off the road, at mile 8.5.

I took my first walk at mile 6.2, just to drink a little Nuun. My legs started to hurt, and I convinced myself to get to the turn-around and then I could take a real, extended walk. The halfway point offered a beautiful view, which gave me an excuse to pause briefly. I drank my fill during and squirted some water on myself. I knew I'd kept up a really great pace early on so I didn't feel pressed to rush my break.

The view at mile 6.55

And actually, from that point, I felt better for awhile! The rolling hills didn't hurt as much with the sun behind me and some hydration in me. I powered through the next two miles.

My attempt to capture the hills, around mile 8

When I finally reached the turn off that never-ending road of rolling hills, I was looking forward to flat terrain. I was ready to push so hard in those last four miles. I had my second wind!

Again, alas, no. I was faced with the reality that miles 2–4.5 felt so good because they were mostly downhill...which meant that miles 9–11 were all uphill.

Gel break at mile 9.5

This was where the wheels finally came off. The wind was cutting sideways, making it hard to breathe, and my calves were cramping. I ate a Maurten gel and sucked down more Nuun, but I just could not find the energy stores to run two miles uphill with no relief.

I wasn't the only one. Lots of people were walking by this time. Weirdly, there were multiple things going on in my head. Despite being in a lot of pain, I was simultaneously grateful that I didn't feel overheated—the low humidity was really working in my favor—and my mental state was actually pretty good. 

Although I'd been on track to race a great PR and was watching it slip away, this race was never about PR'ing. It was about celebrating my birthday. I'd gotten exactly what I wanted from it in the first few miles, and nothing could take that joy away from me...not even copious walk breaks in the last four miles of the race.

You can see clearly where my splits start to slow down. I hoped I'd feel good after the road leveled out again, but the hills had taken their toll. My calves were absolutely destroyed. Strangely enough, I didn't even think about compartment syndrome, because the pain was very different. Even more strangely, I still wasn't upset about all the walking! Maybe because I had had such a great training cycle, and because I know you can't control race day, and I was truly giving this race everything I had, even if the course wasn't playing nice.

Euphoric as I reached mile 12

Whatever it was, I felt totally mentally calm and happy even while physically I fell apart. I never gave up on myself. I really left it all out there, so I can't be disappointed with the outcome.

Cruelly, the race photographer was at the top of the hill at mile 12

Anyway, I struggled all the way through the end. Throughout miles 11, 12, and 13, I was at times filled with both pure elation and agony. I was in so much pain that I walked in mile 12, which is rare for me, and while Matt was actually out at mile 13 shouting for me, I was so deep in my head I didn't see or hear him at all!

His photos really capture my pain (and the last big hill).

Ran right by him with no idea he was even there.

Elizabeth's final voice note came on at mile 13 and pushed me into finding the energy for a final, strong sprint through the finish line.

I posted the video of my finish on IG.

As soon as I finished and slowed to a walk, my calves were screaming. I'd never felt this kind of intense, unabating ache. Even sitting on the curb I hobbled over to, the pain didn't let up. When Matt found me and I tried to get up for post-race snacks, I couldn't even stand upright for more than ten seconds. 

It took a long time before my legs felt better. I lay in the grass for 15 minutes or so and Matt rubbed my calves and stretched my legs; when he raised my feet in the air, I could feel the blood draining out of them. It took another twenty minutes and half a banana before I began to feel better. 

Then, wildly, I felt totally fine. No aches anywhere, no soreness, no cramping! It just disappeared. So was the issue low potassium? I have no idea, but I do have a new understanding of those marathon finish-line videos where people collapse. My calves literally could not hold me up. I've never experienced anything like that.

We took a ton of post-race photos, and I'm feeling self-indulgent so I'm going to post them all. After all, how often do you get to run a race on your 40th birthday? I want to remember every moment.

In the end, I am so glad I followed my gut and all the signs pointing me toward this race. I did not have one moment of regret, even as I trudged up those hills in the last third. Seeing that sunrise was all I wanted, and it made everything worth it.

Ali