After losing her daughter Rachel in 2012, Amish mother of seven Sadie Stoltzfus turned to running to heal. What began as quiet morning jogs became a mission of love—first half-marathons, then the 37-mile Rachel Carson Challenge. She ran to remember. To honor. To keep her daughter’s memory alive through every step. And race organizers noticed. Noticed her dedication. Noticed her spirit. And invited her to the grueling 50-mile Baker Trail UltraChallenge.
Fifty miles. Not a typo. Not a metaphor. Fifty actual miles of running through trails, through pain, through exhaustion. For most people, a marathon—26.2 miles—is the pinnacle of endurance. Sadie signed up for nearly double that. And she did it not to prove anything to anyone. Not to break records or chase fame. But to honor Rachel. To turn grief into grace. To run not from sorrow, but toward healing.
With her 15-year-old son Monroe beside her, she crossed the finish line after 11 hours and 45 minutes. Eleven hours. Of running. Of pushing through pain. Of refusing to quit even when her body screamed to stop. Monroe ran with her the entire way. Supporting. Encouraging. Being present in the way only family can. And when they crossed that finish line together, it wasn’t just about completing a race. It was about completing a journey. From grief to grace. From loss to love. From brokenness to healing.
“Let us run with joy in the race before us,” she said afterward. Not with anguish. Not with bitterness. Not with the heaviness that grief can bring. But with joy. Because she’d learned something profound through her running. That healing doesn’t mean forgetting. That honoring someone you’ve lost doesn’t require sadness. That you can carry grief and joy simultaneously. That running toward grace doesn’t erase the pain—it transforms it.
She was running not from grief, but toward grace. That distinction matters. Running from something is escape. Running toward something is purpose. Sadie wasn’t trying to outrun her memories of Rachel. She was running to honor them. To keep Rachel alive in every mile. To turn her daughter’s short life into a legacy of endurance, love, and grace. And in doing so, she became an example. Not just to her Amish community, but to everyone who heard her story.
The Amish don’t typically participate in ultramarathons. Don’t typically seek public recognition. Don’t typically do things that draw attention. But Sadie’s grief and her healing transcended cultural norms. She found something in running that her community’s traditional practices couldn’t provide. A physical outlet for emotional pain. A way to honor Rachel that felt active, purposeful, transformative. And her community supported her. Celebrated her. Recognized that healing takes many forms, and hers happened to involve 50-mile races.
Monroe running beside her is its own story. A 15-year-old boy, choosing to spend 11 hours and 45 minutes running with his mother. Not because he had to. But because he wanted to. Because he understood what this meant to her. Because he was honoring his sister too. That’s love. That’s family. That’s what it looks like when grief brings people together instead of tearing them apart.
Sadie’s story spread beyond the running community. Beyond the Amish community. Because it’s universal. Everyone has lost someone. Everyone has felt that crushing weight of grief. And everyone is looking for a way to carry it. Sadie found hers in running. In pushing her body to its limits. In transforming pain into miles, sorrow into strength, loss into legacy. And in sharing her story, she gave others permission to find their own way. To heal however they need to. To honor their loved ones however feels right.
She’s not done running. This won’t be her last race. Because running has become more than a hobby or a challenge. It’s become her way of keeping Rachel alive. Of turning every mile into a memory. Every finish line into a tribute. Every race into a prayer. And as long as she can run, she will. Not from grief. But toward grace. And in doing so, she’ll inspire countless others to do the same—to take their pain and transform it into something beautiful, purposeful, and enduring.