Some races you watch. Others you live alongside for 61 hours.

The Mammoth 200 starts in the heart of Mammoth Lakes, California, deep in High Sierra country. It's a landscape you won't find anywhere else in the state: 218 miles of trail, 31,000 feet of climbing, and high points topping out around 11,000 feet.

RNNR athlete Lindsey Dwyer didn't take on the Mammoth 200 alone. She had a dedicated crew behind her: her coach, her husband, a rotating team of pacers, close friends, and the RNNR crew. Together, they took care of her, kept her focused, and put her back together at each aid station. Our part was the driving, the cooking, the media, and the good energy. Lindsey handled the rest, in two of our Hustler hats. Sixty-one hours and 21 minutes later, she crossed the finish line as the third woman overall. Here's how it happened.

 Today is “Race Day."

Day one: off the rails, then back on

The race started early under an overcast sky, with cooler temps and highs only in the mid-70s. Good running weather. Out in the High Sierra, though, cell service is scarce. Lindsey had her phone, but getting a signal was another story, so updates came in bits and pieces.

Around mile 40, one of those updates hit hard. Lindsey wasn't doing well. Her calves were cramping, her stomach was giving her trouble, and things were starting to fall off the rails far too early.

Her coach, Leo Pershall of Endurance PTC, was riding along with us to make sure she had everything she needed, mentally and physically. He talked her through it: triage for her calves, and help with the breathing episodes she was having on the climbs. At the next aid station, we put her back together with fresh food, fuel, and a calf massage to open the muscles up so she could flex them fully again.

By mile 60, we got the text we'd been waiting for. She was feeling much better and running at a far more comfortable level.

Night one: no sleep required

Heading into the first night, Lindsey rolled into the Crowley Lake aid station alongside our good friend Jake Jackson, who had a fantastic race of his own. She was sitting around fifth or sixth among the women.

We asked if she wanted to sleep. She said no. She felt alert, alive, and ready to go. Little did we know she would run the entire race, all 61 hours of it, on zero sleep.

She picked up her first pacer that night, who guided her through a long stretch of climbing on sandy terrain. The next morning, I asked her how she was feeling. She looked back at me as she ran off into the woods and said, "Well, I'm feeling much better than yesterday." That's Lindsey: always focused on the positive side of things.

Day two: hurry up and wait

After the crew grabbed some sleep, day two settled into a rhythm of hurry up and wait. We'd meet Lindsey at an aid station with food, water, fuel, and all the things, then drive to the next one, cook, and wait. Stretches between crew points ran anywhere from 10 to 28 miles.

From there, Lindsey ran each 20-to-25-mile leg with a different pacer. Her pacing team was made up of friends, family, and the running community that showed up for her: Kati, Mecque, David, Leo, Matt, Daniel, Hunter, JC, and Sarah.

A note for the record: Mecque, a good friend and running partner, brought a seemingly bottomless supply of unicorn snot glitter. Pacers, runners, crew, every aid station. Nobody escaped it.

As the day wore on, it started to blur. Temperatures climbed, the elevation rose, and our minds stayed on Lindsey's safety and resilience. She was dead set on hitting her times, and she did. By the end of day two, she had moved into third place among the women.

Watching the whole field come through was its own highlight. Runner after runner arrived with positive attitudes, gratitude, and pure stoke to be part of such a big event.

Day three: when it got real

Day three is when things got real. On zero sleep, Lindsey was struggling to breathe on the big climbs and losing power on the downhills. It scared us. She was at her absolute limit and pushing at 120 percent.

At every aid station, Leo and her husband, Matt, tracked everything: food intake, calories and carbs, electrolytes and sodium, and water. That put real responsibility on her pacers, who made sure she ate and drank exactly what she needed, on schedule, to keep moving.

By the last aid station, the wheels had come off. Her breathing had gotten worse, and the fatigue was overwhelming. Leo had her lie down with her feet up to rest for just a minute and move the lactic acid.

We knew she was solidly in third. The next woman was 20 miles back, so there was a cushion. But the only thing that mattered now was getting her to the finish.

The finish

The last leg had one more big ask: a climb up Mammoth's main ski slope, followed by a quick descent back into the valley and the finish line.

We waited for her there around 10 p.m. When she came in, she came in thundering, running about an 8-minute-mile pace, maybe faster. She zoomed to the line, jumped on it, and thanked the race director, all smiles.

Watching someone ride those highs and lows, hit an extreme low, and then turn around and crush it to the finish is something none of us will forget. And of course, she capped it off by climbing a human pyramid for her finish-line photo.

Third female. 61 hours and 21 minutes. Zero sleep.

Way to go, Lindsey

Thanks for having us along on your journey, Lindsey. Way to go. If you don't already follow her, find her on Instagram at @linzdwyer. She's going to be one of our next big runners.