
Molly Seidel was running well at Western States. In the top ten for the first fifty-ish miles, racing where she knew she belonged, and things were going well. And then they weren't. By Michigan Bluff, around mile sixty-two, she was ready to quit. She was in pain, she was angry at herself, and she couldn't fathom running another thirty-eight miles with nothing left to race for.
She ran them anyway.
What happened in those last twelve hours — the conversations on the trail, the people waiting at aid stations, the competitors who came up on her and stayed for a while — turned out to be the thing she'll carry the longest from her Western States debut. Not the first half. The second.
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What the first fifty miles taught her
The first half of Western States taught Molly something she hadn't fully understood coming from the marathon. In ultra running, the little things add up. It wasn't one catastrophic mistake. It was a collection of small errors that compounded over ten hours until they became impossible to ignore. In a marathon, you don't have enough time for that to happen. In a hundred miler, you have all the time in the world.
She's clear-eyed about it. She made mistakes and blew her race because of them. That's the honest version. But she's also clear that the experience she got from that race was worth more than another year of preparation would have been.
What the second fifty miles taught her
When Molly got to mile sixty-two, she felt so ready to drop that she couldn't picture what keeping going would even look like. Her pacer Alyssa helped convince her there was something still worth getting back out there for. Her coach Cliff told her there were more things to try. She put her full faith in the people around her and kept moving.
What she found in those thirty-eight miles surprised her. She ran with other competitors. She talked with crew members who were former Western States runners themselves. She passed people who had waited ten years to get into the race. And somewhere in all of that, the why shifted. It stopped being about competing and started being about what it means to finish something that means something. Western States means something. The belt buckle means something. She didn't want to throw that away.
She crossed the finish line after twenty-four hours and said it was one of the most fulfilling things she'd ever done. She meant it.
The ego death of being a rookie
Molly won an Olympic bronze medal in her marathon debut. She debuted at the hundred K, got a golden ticket, and went to Western States. The all-in approach is just how she operates. But trail running is running and also a completely different sport, and getting into it meant being genuinely bad at something for the first time in a very long time.
Steep downhills still challenge her. Technical terrain still humbles her. And the mental shift required — from I am bad at this to I am new at this — is something she had to actively work through. What she found on the other side of that shift is that it changed her. Getting locked into the identity of Olympic medalist who should be good at everything is a trap. Being willing to suck at something new and keep showing up anyway is where the growth actually is.
She also makes the point that failing publicly — which she no longer has the luxury of doing in obscurity — is actually what makes the story relatable. Success can be unapproachable. Everybody knows what it feels like to fail. That's the story people connect with.
Road versus trail and what's worth defending
One of the most interesting stretches of this conversation is when Molly talks about where road running has gone and whether trail is heading the same direction. Her take on road is blunt — it's become a math problem. Carbon plates, optimal carb intake, the flattest course possible. Computers with legs. Joyless.
Trail still has something that can't be quantified. The intangible element. She wants to see trail protect that. Not by rejecting growth — she thinks the growth is good — but by staying aware of where it can go if nobody's paying attention. She'd ban carbon plates in trail racing right now if she could, before it becomes the monster it's become on the roads.
The people in her corner
Molly talks about Kelly Newland, her agent, in a way that tells you everything about what a good agent actually looks like. When they first met, Kelly barely asked about her running performance. She asked about her wellbeing, her values, who she was as a person. And at Western States, with one of Kelly's other athletes winning the race, Kelly came back to mile sixty-two to find Molly and help get her through Forest Hill.
Cliff Pittman is her coach. Steph Howe, a Western States winner and PhD exercise physiologist, is her nutritionist and left her a voice note after the race that made her cry. Her family made it out to Rucky Chucky and stayed through the night. Her partner was there at every point where she needed to borrow someone else's belief because her own had run out.
That's what got her to Auburn.
What she'd say to the Molly of 2021 and 2024
The message to both is the same. Nothing lasts forever. To 2021 Molly, that means appreciate the moment because it won't stay. To 2024 Molly, that means the darkness won't stay either. You just start climbing and eventually you get to the top.
She said it and then Jon said he needed to hear it. It's that kind of conversation.
What's next
OCC at UTMB — very technical, very steep, very much out of her comfort zone, which is exactly why she said yes. And then Javelina in the fall, flat and fast and in her backyard, where the goal is to lock in fueling and run a hundred miles the way she knows she can.
Twenty twenty seven at Western States is the real target. This year was the bonus. She got more from it than she expected.
🎧 Listen to the full episode with Molly Seidel on For The Long Run wherever you get your podcasts.
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About Jon Levitt and For The Long Run
Jon is a runner, cyclist, and podcast host from Boston, MA, who now lives in Boulder, CO. For The Long Run is aimed at exploring the why behind what keeps runners running long, strong, and motivated.
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