The Cody Chronicles

Well, this race didn’t go quite as planned but we got it done. 8th place overall in a time of 71hrs and change. This was quite a wild ride so buckle up because here comes the story.

The weather started off perfect. The “hot hype” around cocodona did not exist this year. It was low 50s at the start line and the sky was partly cloudy. Absolutely perfect running conditions. The start kind of snuck up on me. I was just chilling in the start area and then next thing I know its about 5 minutes to start and I am shoving my way up to the front-ish of the start line. The gun went off and out into the desert we went.

I was not prepared for this race at all. I was relying on pure fitness and an overinflated sense of confidence. This became evident about mile one when my pole were flopping around all over the place. I essentially bungee corded them to the front of my vest and they were bouncing around all over the place. It was super annoying so at about mile 2 I un bungeed them, and pretty much carried them the rest of the race. I will not do that again next year.

My quads were blown up by the time I reached Lane mountain. I was ~30 miles into the race and had already climbed and descended more than I normally do in two weeks of training in Missouri. I would deal with very angry quads for the next 220 miles. Right before Lane mountain the weather also shifted – for the worse. The temps dropped and the sky opened up to a drizzle, then snow, then sleet. I lost all dexterity in my fingers but decided not to stop and put any more clothes on. I tore through Lane mountain and then bombed down to Crown King.

I saw my crew for the first time – my mom and my friend Augie. We had a pretty efficient transition – I bet it was about 5 minutes. I took a poop, ate half a pulled pork sandwich, restocked my food and water and went on my merry way.

The miles between Crown King and Whiskey row were fairly uneventful. I was still running a lot of these miles and they seemed to click off fairly fast. I more or less settled into a spot and kept leapfrogging the same people. I rolled into Whiskey Row around 9pm and took my first real break. I was starting to chafe at this point, despite my constant application of Vaseline to my genitalia and ass crack. It didn’t seem to matter. I re-applied the lube, ate a quesadilla and headed out into the night.

After a few road miles, we got into the granite dells. This section was a little sketchy in the night, especially with the spitting rain that was becoming a constant. I scooched down rock faces and navigated off of my watch for a few miles until the trail opened up into runnable stuff again. I felt strong and ran my way to Iron King aid station where I took another poo, grabbed some snacks, and headed off into the 6 mile flat stretch to Fain Ranch. This section sucked. It was the beginning of what I would deem “monster mud”. This mud was mentally draining. It would stick to my shoes, and then that mud would stick to more mud and so on. My feet were 10lbs apiece. I would scrape them off anytime I saw a rock, but it was futile because they would just re-mud instantly. I came into Fain Ranch discouraged and pissed off at the mud.

Lucky for me, there was 10 more miles in that damn field on the way to Mingus Mountain. I suffered through that, running what I could, walking what I couldn’t, pissed off at the Cocodona gods.

At mingus we took some time. I was wearing Mount to Coast shoes and met Ben Blankenship who was part of their team for the first time at this aid station. Ben was great. Super supportive and integral part of my crew going forward. He recruited a pacer (Callie) for me and we left headed down into Jerome. It was here that I asked for my place for the first time and learned that I was in 8th. Much better than I anticipated.

We bombed down off of Mingus into Jerome, battling the monster mud the whole way. Callie talked and told me stories as I grew more and more tired. We decided that I needed a sleep when we got to Jerome and that is exactly what we did. I slept for 30 minutes in the back of an suv on a folding sleeping pad. Not exactly ideal. I tossed and turned and got a little restless sleep. I woke up feeling… not great. A little wobbly, very chafed and no less tired than I was 30 minutes previously. I ate what I could of a cinnamon roll and left the aid station with Ben.

After a few miles I finally got some life breathed back into me. We developed this walk/run cadence that had us averaging 13ish minute miles. I knew it was slow but its all I had in me at the time. The second day was fairly uneventful. Ben and Callie switched off as my pacers and we clipped the miles away slowly. My chafe continued to worsen despite my constant lubrication efforts. The day stayed mild temps which was truly a blessing. I ate what I could but was definitely falling behind on calories – I just had no desire to eat at this point. Harry passed me going into the Sedona aid station, but with almost 100 miles remaining I figured I would have plenty of time to reel him back in. I pounded a hamburger at the aid station and Ben and I headed out into the night as the rain picked up to a steady, soaking drizzle.

And then we entered the twilight zone. This 15 mile section took Ben and I almost 6 hours. I was crawling as exhaustion set in. We climbed up onto the bare, exposed rock, guided by nothing but our cone of headlamp light. We navigated off of our watches, but everything looked the same. We spent hours scrambling up and down the red rock, following the white dots in the night. Everything looked the same. I grew discouraged, convinced we were traveling in circles making no ground. Eventually, we exited the twilight zone that was the hangover trail and slogged our way to Foxboro ranch. As exhaustion fully took hold, I found myself staggering on the smooth dirt road, dragging my poles behind me as I clipped off 20 minute miles. At long last, around 2 o’clock in the morning, I staggered into the Foxboro aid station, and immediately went down for a one hour sleep.

I awoke to mad coughing fit. Although I was tucked into a heated room, wrapped in a 15 degree sleeping bag, I could not shake the bone cold that consumed me. I slowly rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and put my mud soaked shoes back on my feet. In this moment, I was told that while I was down, Finn Melanson had passed me and Max Jolliffe was due into the aid station any moment. Great.

Loaded back up with full pack and layers of clothes, I set out into the dark alone, as this was a 16 mile pacerless section. This section was my lowest low of the race. It was very runnable on double track forest road, however the moster mud made a reappearance and every step was a struggle. As the night transitioned into a beautiful sunrise, all I could do was curse into the empty sky. As I drew closer and closer to Munds Park, I started to negotiate with myself. As I tried to come up with believable excuse to quit, I hit pavement and found myself in the aid station. Here, I picked up a new pacer named Jessie, and hit the road once more.

Things started to turn around on this 21 mile stretch. Slow, feeling sorry for myself miles somehow magically became motivated miles. The pace came back down to somewhat respectable 13 minutes as we clipped miles off. We hit a crewless aid station where I pounded some chicken fingers, and we continued on. Right after leaving that aid station, we hit mile 200 and then simultaneously passed DJ fox who looked ROUGH. Just after high noon, we rolled into Fort Tuthill with high spirits and smiles all around.

Lets not forget about the chafing that was going on. I can confirm that it did not get magically better. In fact, it had gotten worse. Here at Fort Tuthill, like at every aid station, I delicately lifted my parts and tried to slather more lube around. This was excruciating every single time. Anyways, at Fort Tuthill I slammed some pasta while I was told that Finn had just left less than a minute before I arrived. That lit a fire in me. I slammed the pasta, passed the mental eval test, and went on my way, once again pacerless.

The 16 mile section to Walnut Canyon was basically the opposite of the last section. I started off fired up and motivated, and that slowly faded back to pure exhaustion. By the end of this section I was counting strides, forcing myself to “run” for 500 and then I could walk for 100. I lost count so many times I eventually just gave up. In this section I also distinctly remember just finding myself with my pants down trying to take a poo on the side of the trail. I have no memory of stopping, pulling my pants down, or even deciding to take the poop in the first place. By the time I waddled into the Walnut canyon aid station, I once again felt defeated and in need of a nap, so I crawled into the back of the car and attempted to sleep for 30 minutes.

I, in fact, slept like shit. Or not at all. When I climbed out of the car, still chafed to hell and exhausted, I felt defeated. I had no energy, Finn had teleported out of reach, and all I wanted to be was done. So, Callie and I set off on a short 7 mile section that I probably ran a collective 1 mile of. There was just no gas left in the tank. Mount Eldon grew closer and closer as the sun began to set for the final time. Just before sunset I rolled into Wildcat Hill aid station and promptly hit the porta potty.

The rain started back up as I pounded a chic-fil-a sandwich and a large lemonade. I was the gracious recipient of yet another volunteer pacer, this one happened to be the American record holder in the marathon – Ryan Hall. I was too delierous to play fanboy, so I quickly introduced myself to Ryan and then we headed out for the final 20 miles up and over Eldon.

Eldon was not nice to me. About 30 minutes after leaving the aid station, I told Ryan I needed a dirt nap. I went down for 10 minutes and then we got back after it. “Getting after it” means going 20 minute mile pace. Ryan was a great pacer – we talked the entire time. I asked him about the Olympic experience and then we got deep and somewhat philosophical about life and adventure. With about 10 miles to go, I insisted on yet another short dirt nap. I have no idea what Ryan did while I was out, but it helped me because I could see straight again.

Just before reaching the summit, DJ Fox blew past me, seemingly resurrected from the zombie walking state I had passed him in not 12 hours before. I had no fight left in me, so away he went. Ryan and I made it to the top and then began the gnarly decent down. It took us about 10 miles to climb Eldon, but we descended in just over 2. It was steep and really tested the mobility 245 miles deep into a race. With 4 miles to go we hit the final aid station, where Ryan grabbed two grill cheeses and I sat down in despair for 5 minutes.

The aid station worker kindly suggested we get going, as Michael McKnight was supposedly not far behind. I took my phone out for the first time to check the tracker, and what do you know, Michael was less than a mile back. Fantastic. We took off out of there with renewed purpose. It was only 4 miles but I was moving slow. We were on double track dirt road now, but apparently my newfound speed came at the cost of coordination. I clipped something with my toe and went down hard, catching myself with my chest. Ow. I popped back up and we took off once more just for me to repeat and come crashing down again. Now I was mad. As I popped back up, Ryan took his phone out and informed me that I had done my math wrong, and that Michael was comfortably 2.5 miles back. Ahhhh, now with less than 3 miles to go and a renewed comfortable margin, I resumed my slow slog as dirt turned to pavement, and the finish line grew near.

With a half mile to go, Ryan randomlly said goodbye. He was just going to run home. I had just made one of the fastest men in the world go on a 20 mile hike in the dead of night through the rain, I suppose he had every right to want to get home. Sorry Ryan.

Anyway, now about 4 o’clock in the morning, I was so ready to be done. In the last mile, I tried to sit with this accomplishment and really conceptualize what I had just done, but I had no bandwidth for it. I just kept on stepping and at long last, I crossed the line with a total time of just over 71 hours.

The End.

Just kidding. I would like to say the finish line was an amazing experience, but coming in at 4am really makes the crowds dwindle. From the time I finished to the time I was at the hotel was likely less than 45 minutes. I peeled off my disgusting 3 day old clothes and tried to psych myself up to take a shower. Turns out with the major chafe I had going on, that would prove to be excoriating. But I survived and then crawled into bed to get a fitful 3 hours of sleep. Its such a terrible cross to bear, finishing these races feeling so depleted and then being robbed of sleep. Too much caffeine and just all around confusion in my body to fall into a real deep sleep.

Around 9am that morning, I awoke a found myself swollen like never before. My feet were huge, my face was puffy, and my lips were chapped beyond belief. I hobbled around the hotel room, attempting to put away all of my things that I had haphazardly thrown everywhere last night. My friend Augie and I had plans that afternoon, so we hopped in the car and headed to the finale of our adventure. We drove back down to Phoenix, stopped at a buffalo wild wings on the way, and then arrived at our final destination – the Arizona Diamondbacks stadium. We had bought tickets right before the race, and we were determined to go. Luckily we arrived plenty early, because it took me almost an hour to hobble from the parking lot up to our nosebleed seats. It was here were I got to breathe for the first time and really think about my accomplishment. I had covered 250 miles on foot. What the actual fuck. That’s insane. But as I sat there thinking about that, I realized that to the rest of the world, it was insignificant. Life goes on. The sun rises and sets, and at the end of the day, we are all just a collection of carbon atoms that were gifted life.

Cocodona was an epic adventure for me. I made some fantastic memories, and friendships that I will cherish for the rest of my life. From a race perspective, I feel like I have a lot left to give on that course. And for that reason, I am committed to coming back in 2026 and winning the damn thing. See you in 2026!