The Last Aid Station with Evie Ultra

Finish line of North Country 2013, 50 miler. I remember when she saw me
at the finish running towards me and she starting to cry, saying, "I missed you."
But now Evie Ultra, I miss you so much more than words can say.

I have spoken with my son of the gifts running has given him; speed, endurance, an amazing vertical jump and cross training to other sports, as well as a mental toughness that will not quit when every fiber says he must. 

Although I haven't ran in a while due to a bone graft in my ankle, running opened my own life to great adventures and people, but I never thought it would lead me to devastation. It's been two weeks and three days since Evie Ultra (Evelyn Lower) and her dog, Jasmine, were hit and killed by a drunk driver at around 7:20 in the evening while out on a run. My family and community members that had the pleasure of knowing her has been deeply affected by the loss of this glowing light. I feel sick every time I read her name in print as the woman who died walking her dog. Losing Evie has broken my heart and I don't know how to tread through this course.

She was my best friend who I told everything to for 12 years and spent 2-15 hours a day with on weekend runs—sometimes two days in a row—talking about every detail in our lives while training for marathon and ultras. And then there are the countless hours on an ultra trip and course. She was an Auntie to my children, and friend to my family. She was the sun on my face and literally my crew captain several races and through tough moments in my life. We were drawn together to dream, set goals, achieve and basically prove every nay sayer wrong with our running adventures. So many miles, mornings, nights, adverse weather conditions, and adventures. She pulled others into our circle for running meet ups like moths to a flame, and I have more friendships because of her. Evie didn't leave me alone, that is for sure. 

Upon receiving the terrible news, the shock just didn't feel real. When I play it back, it still feels that way. I sent her sister a message in the middle of the night because my mind wouldn't let me connect it to reality. The first week my mind kept thinking it was a fake story and I would have to convince myself she was gone. 

I sob, I can barely catch my breath when her memories flashes next to me. I felt like I was going to lose it at Meijers the other day—as in burst into tears in a grocery isle and call for help! Every morning is a cycle to remind myself that she is gone. Sob first, then pull it together and rise. There are days my eyes don't stop watering and when they just hurt the entire day. If I have a day with less tears, then the next will more than make up for it. I feel like my mind keeps protecting and then rips the bandage off.

I can't text her and get a response. I can't reminisce about the past years with the one person that was there for it all or run any new idea by her. It's like it never happened and a part of me does not exist. So I came back to this blog, where I wrote about some of it and to write another chapter of this unfamiliar HELL course. 

She was 43 and a blaze when her life was taken and she had big and full plans. She was gearing up to train for the Bayshore half marathon held memorial weekend because it had been a while since her last race, and she was taking charge of every part of her life. I was so very proud of her pushing through some rough patches and committing for herself. I am glad I said it to her—glad I told her she was light. Glad I wasn;t afraid to be real with her. 

She had become a massage therapist to help people with their pain, and I know she wasn't charging people sometimes because she knew they were short on funds and wanted to help them. So typical Evie to keep pushing herself. She would laugh that I used that word "typical". She was the purest of heart person I have ever encountered and too good for us to be completely honest. She was always giving money and time to others even when she didn't have it. When people talk of her, they speak of her light and I think it's beautiful that we all saw her that way. She lived as her authentic self. It makes me sad, angry and physically shake that I don't have to worry about her anymore.

Evie had future plans to run Javelina 100 again and get that buckle. I wish my ankle could take it, because I would hit every dream for her just to see if out of some delirium I could see her again. I have for a long time felt she should be running large aid stations since she frequently would abandon her own needs in a race to help someone else on course. We in fact, talked about this... "Need salt, GUs, tape, nut butter, or smashed avocado?" Let her pull it out of her overly weighed-down water pack.

When I would throw out there that I was going to do something in the immediate future she would reply that she was in and would be joining me. I didn't hav to ask and she could finish many of my sentences. Last June, we worked the last aid station at the Lighthouse 100 in the middle of the night which was the 100 miler we both finished the inaugural year of 2017. I was so lucky she volunteered with me the week of the race. She brought her portable music to jam out and we had a blast and helping runners get back ob the course and encouraging some to NOT GET INTO THAT WARM CAR your crew is trying to put you in. "Finish this last 10 miles." Of course we had some laughs.. and I would have been so bored without her between 9pm and 3am. We talked about running a station next year and extras we could bring. Being Evie she wanted to go get runners coffee from the gas station out of her own pocket. The race has since been cancelled for 2023.

She was the person that drove with me to the hospital for MRIs, or magically appeared when I was injured getting my knee or leg checked out in the ER. We joked about one day being in a special retirement home together where we could walk in a circle like some looped race courses we have been on. She shook pompoms with me at volleyball games for my daughter, and helped me to create the obnoxious parent section. She was my ride or die. Plans be damned on the night of December 8th, 2022.

Each day I try to think about what Evie would have wanted for me, and it helps to stop the tears. I know she would want me to take the adventure what ever it may be. To live out loud and dress up in silly outfits at races with friends. Wear our matching outfits again and try to be the best me I can be...but I tell you the thought destroys me in my place. 

She would want me to laugh as much as possible because we laughed alot. It's going to be the most painful course I have ever been on. Trying to fake it 'til I make it all the way. If I could talk to her, I would let her know I am trying, but nothing will compare to her presence and I want to see her at the finish line because this is the course I never wanted to be on without her, and knowing she is there will make me finish.

I know she would reply..."You're doing it. One foot in front of the other."