This 196-Mile Relay Team Has One Rule: Your Name Must Be Olivia

Five years ago, I received an Instagram DM from someone I had met at running camp and shared a four-mile run through a thunderstorm with the year prior. She was reaching out to see if I was interested in joining a team for the Hood to Coast Relay, the world’s largest relay race held every August in Oregon with about 19,000 runners annually. The relay, she explained, consisted of teams of 12 runners split into two vans and covered 196 miles from Timberline Lodge at the top of Mount Hood to the coastal town of Seaside, Oregon. I immediately responded: “Uh, yeah, that sounds so fun.”Our team would be called the “Twelve Olivias,” because our captain, Olivia Enright, was only recruiting women named Olivia. Enright’s quest to find 11 other Olivias willing to spend more than 24 hours crammed in a van with strangers took her over a year and hundreds of Instagram messages. Most Olivias left her on read and never responded. By summer 2022, though, our team was complete. I was lucky to be a part of the inaugural team as well as the 2023 team, but I needed a few years off for other races, obligations, and life. I watched the race through Strava and group chat updates on my couch last year, and vowed I would return for the 2026 race, which would be the Olivias’ fifth consecutive year.Each year, we fly in from all over the country, pack up two vans, and race our hearts out through the heat, smoke, and darkness. Our team is made up of serious sub-elite athletes, marathoners, and casual runners. We don’t care about pace (even though our team consistently finishes in the top 10 of the open women’s division); we only care whether your name is Olivia.Our recruiting criteria, however, are strict. Olivia must be your first legal name, and it must be spelled the same. In fact, this is the one weekend every year I go by “Olivia,” whereas I refuse to be called anything but “Liv” the other 363 days of the year.On the morning of Friday, August 28, our vans—decorated from top to bottom with our logo and our slogan “Yes, we’re ALL Olivia”—made the 90-minute trek from Portland to Timberline Lodge. Olivia Rodrigo and Olivia Dean blared through the speakers, and the van buzzed with energy. This was our Super Bowl.Courtesy Olivia PaxtonOlivia Paxton takes a prerace selfie before the Twelve Olivias set off for the 2026 edition.Our first runner, Olivia Ondeck, took off at 11 a.m. sharp, and we were off to the races. This year I was the fifth runner, meaning I ran the fifth, 17th, and 29th legs. After six runners have finished their legs, we have what is called a van exchange, where the next van with runners 7 to 12 take their turns. This is my favorite part because it’s one of the few times during the 24-plus-hour relay when we get to see all of our teammates.As our runners come in, we all scream for Olivia, and by year five, other teams know to join in. We are sort of celebrities in the small Hood to Coast world, with dozens of teams coming up to us to ask the same questions we have answered for years.“Are you really all named Olivia?” Yes, of course!“How did you find each other?” Our team captain found us years ago!“Do you all live in Oregon?” Nope, usually just one or two of us each year!The questions never get old. Sometimes, while walking as a group to the porta-potties or food stands, someone will yell “OLIVIA!” and everyone around gets a good chuckle as 12 of us whip our heads around.We don’t care about pace; we only care whether your name is Olivia.The run itself is a grueling nearly 200-mile trek down highways, gravel roads, and greenways. The biggest adjustment for me every year is running at night, as I rarely run in the dark in my daily life. This year, my second leg had me running down a highway at 11 p.m. I lost my footing and went down hard, rolling off the road and landing in a cold, wet ditch. My knee and both hands were bloodied for the next couple of hours until I could find first aid.The final stages of the race take you to the idyllic coastal town of Seaside, where there is a giant party on the beach, photographers, and real bathrooms. We all wait in a corral for our final runner, and then we get to run in together. 196 miles of blood, sweat, and tears for a free beer and medal.Courtesy Olivia PaxtonThe Twelve Olivias finished this year’s relay in 25 hours, 50 minutes, and 45 seconds—an average pace of 7:54 per mile.Afterward we walk like zombies to get food, drinks, and eventually showers at our hotel. We are so tired and grateful to be done that we don’t realize that the best weekend of the year is coming to an end. The next day, we load up the vans, drive back to Portland, and fly back to our respective homes. Many of us will not see each other until next August, but we keep each other updated on races, engagements, career moves, weddings, and babies throughout the year. Some of us meet up at races like the New York City Marathon or Chicago Marathon. Some of us remain incredibly close, like my maid of honor, Olivia Polischeck. I met Polischeck in the inaugural year (2022), remained close in 2023, ran the New York City Marathon side by side with her that fall, and raced the San Francisco Marathon together in 2024 before asking her to be my maid of honor later that summer.Despite being scattered across the country, the Olivias share an unbreakable bond forged through long miles, muscle cramps, and a lack of sleep. I was not in a sorority in college, but the Twelve Olivias are the closest thing to a sisterhood I have experienced, and I would not trade it for the world.Liv Paxton is an eight-time Boston Marathon qualifier, content creator, and avid fundraiser. She's worked in the running space for four years as a coach, fit specialist, sports announcer, and writer. Paxton is a former conference champion for both the College of William and Mary and Winthrop University. She can be found running the roads of Charlotte, North Carolina, and signing up for every marathon and charity 5K she can afford.