Just a Bit Further

For Katie Spotz, the dream of rowing the Pacific has been in her heart since she first rowed across the Atlantic ocean at age 22. See our exclusive interview with Katie as she trains for her Pacific crossing journey starting in December 2026.

Published: Friday, July 3, 2026 9:00 am

What was the moment when the idea for a journey through the Pacific became real for you?

The dream of rowing the Pacific has been in my heart since I crossed the Atlantic. The bigger vision has always been to go around the world by human power alone, but there were other chapters I wanted to live first — joining the Coast Guard, working with different nonprofits, and continuing to grow through other endurance challenges.

The moment it started to feel real again was last August, when I completed my first 200-mile ultra run. It was the longest distance I had ever gone, and it came after ACL surgery, during a time when I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to run the way I used to.

What changed me wasn’t just finishing. It was realizing that I felt stronger at the end than I did at the start. That completely shifted something in me. It reminded me that our bodies and minds are capable of so much more than we usually realize, especially when we’re tested. I had been at a low point, and somehow I came back stronger than ever.

That race felt like the final endurance goal I needed to complete before turning fully toward the Pacific.

Around the same time, I also met Team Seneca Navy and had the chance to row on their ocean rowing boat. They had completed the World’s Toughest Row as a team of four, and seeing their boat, their commitment, and the reality of what they had done made the Pacific feel less like a far-off dream and more like something I could actually begin preparing for.

So it was really the combination of those two things, proving to myself that I was physically and mentally ready, and being around people who had just done something that seemed impossible. That’s when the Pacific stopped feeling like “someday” and started feeling like “now.”

For those who may not know your success as an athlete and philanthropic missions, why the Pacific Ocean for this solo row trip? And why did you choose this specific method of travel for the journey?

My journey to the Pacific really started on the Atlantic.

When I first dreamed of rowing an ocean, I imagined doing it with teammates. But after a couple of different teammates backed out, I realized that if I truly wanted to row an ocean, I had to be willing to do it solo.

After crossing the Atlantic, I realized how much I loved that space — being on the water, being so connected to nature, and stepping into a true unknown. In some ways, it felt almost like training to be an astronaut. Ocean rowing was so far removed from everyday life. There wasn’t a clear playbook. It was remote, raw, physical, and deeply mental. It captured my imagination like nothing else had.

I don’t know if I chose the ocean or if the ocean chose me. It has always felt like a pull — a curiosity I couldn’t ignore.

At the time I discovered ocean rowing, I was getting deeper into ultra-endurance and looking for the next great challenge. Ocean rowing brought everything together: isolation, physical endurance, mental resilience, nature, uncertainty, and purpose. You’re alone, unsupported, without a follow boat, in one of the most remote places on Earth. I can’t imagine another challenge that touches the mental, physical, and spiritual sides quite like that.

The Pacific also fits into the bigger vision of going around the world by human power alone. Over the years, I’ve done a Row for Water, Swim for Water, Ride for Water, and Skate for Water, all connected to the mission of clean water. Running is actually my favorite form of endurance, but you can’t run across the Pacific.

Rowing may not even be my favorite endurance sport, but I love being on the water, and I love the feeling that comes from pushing beyond what seems possible. I did look into pedal-powered boats at one point, but rowing boats are more efficient for this kind of crossing.

So for me, the Pacific is the next chapter because it combines the biggest physical challenge with the bigger mission, using human-powered endurance to help bring clean water to people who need it.

How does this journey connect to your commitment to clean water?

The goal behind the Pacific Row for Water is to raise $1 million and help 100,000 people in Fiji gain access to clean water.

To date, through previous endurance challenges, we’ve helped bring clean water to 50,000 people. And what I love about this mission is that it really is a grassroots effort. It’s about everyone doing their part, adding their own drop in the bucket, until together, those drops become something life-changing.

I always say, if you have a strong enough why, you can figure out almost any how. And I know that during the lowest, hardest moments of this row, remembering that this is part of something much bigger than myself will be the rocket fuel that keeps me going.

Right now, 1 in 10 people still live without access to clean water. And clean water is so much more than water. It’s health. It’s education. It’s opportunity. It’s women’s empowerment. It’s the first step out of poverty.

I believe clean water is a human right, not a privilege. I want to live in a world where everyone, everywhere has clean water to drink.

We may not all agree on everything, but I believe we can all agree on this: everyone deserves to drink clean water.

Your goal is to serve 100,000 people in Fiji clean water, but what impact do you hope that support toward this journey will have on clean water initiatives, as well as with female-led projects/missions like this?

This journey is historic in several ways.

If successful, I would be attempting to row longer than any woman ever has across an ocean, and to become the first American to row solo across the Pacific. My hope is that this helps other people, especially women and girls, see what is possible when you commit to something that feels far beyond your comfort zone.

But the bigger history-making piece is the clean water impact.

Fiji is incredibly close to reaching every person in the country with clean water. Only a small number of countries have achieved universal access to clean water, and Fiji has the chance to become one of them. We are about 100,000 people away from reaching everyone.

That means this row could be part of helping an entire nation gain access to clean water. That is history in the making.

I’ve been working on clean water initiatives for 15 years, and one of the things I’ve learned is that the water crisis can feel overwhelming. When you hear that 1 in 10 people still live without clean water, it can feel too big to solve. But Fiji shows us something powerful: this work can be completed. A country can cross the finish line.

When people think of the water crisis, they often think of sub-Saharan Africa, and that need is very real. But they may not realize that island nations like Fiji also face major barriers. Some communities are on small, remote islands hundreds of miles away, which makes reaching them incredibly difficult.

So my hope is that this journey does three things: helps bring clean water to 100,000 people, shows that big global problems can be solved one country at a time, and inspires more people to support female-led missions that combine adventure, purpose, and impact.

Why clean water initiatives, what about this section of philanthropic work calls to you and has called to you over the hundreds of projects and thousands of people served?

If you care about anything, you can find a reason to care about clean water.

If you care about children going to school, you can care about water. If you care about health, women’s empowerment, economic opportunity, people building businesses, or families stepping out of poverty. Clean water touches all of it.

For me, it became more than a charitable cause. It became a human rights issue.

When you look at how advanced our world is, and then realize that 1 in 10 people still live without clean water, it’s deeply sobering. As mind-boggling as it may seem to row across an ocean, what’s even more mind-boggling to me is that people are still drinking dirty water when they don’t have to – when the solutions already exist.

That’s the part I can’t ignore.

In many cases, the cost can be simple and powerful: around $10 can help provide one person with clean water for 10 years. Once I understood both the scale of the need and how effective the solutions could be, it became impossible not to do something.

There are so many global problems where we’re still searching for answers. Clean water is different. We know how to solve it. The solutions are there. The need is basic. The impact is life-changing.

I don’t know many other ways to make such a direct and lasting difference in someone’s life. Clean water is the foundation for everything else. And to me, it’s mind-boggling that this problem still hasn’t been solved.

Regular rowers or beginners might find this "crazy," but how doable is it really for someone like you who is well versed in physical challenges?

I actually don’t think the physical part is the biggest challenge.

That may sound strange, but compared to something like ultra-running, rowing is lower impact. Ultra-running has a much higher level of pounding on the body and intensity. With ocean rowing, the physical side is absolutely demanding, but what really sets it apart is the scale of preparation, the isolation, and the unknown.

In many ways, this row has been 20 years in the making. It includes rowing another ocean, completing more than 100 endurance challenges, and years of learning how I respond under stress, fatigue, uncertainty, and discomfort. That’s what gives me the confidence to even consider something like this.

But confidence doesn’t mean I think it will be easy.

There are also so many factors outside of my control. You can be the best rower in the world and still need the right weather window, equipment, health, and conditions to line up. I was the second American woman to row solo across the Atlantic. The first was an Olympic rower, and it took her three attempts to complete her crossing. She was light years ahead of me as a rower — I was actually the worst rower on my college team.

That’s the ocean. It isn’t just about being the strongest or most skilled. It’s about preparation, patience, resilience, and respecting how much is outside your control.

For me, the biggest challenge will likely be the loneliness and isolation. Humans are wired for connection and community, and out there I won’t have the usual external support. I’ll have to be deeply intrinsically motivated. I’ll have to keep choosing the mission, the purpose, and the next stroke, even when no one is there to cheer me on.

So yes, I think you need a strong baseline of fitness, but mentally, this is a huge unknown — even for me. I don’t know exactly how that level of isolation will affect me, and that’s something I take seriously.

That’s why I’m working with a sports psychologist and doing everything I can to prepare not just my body, but my mind. Because for a journey like this, the mental preparation matters just as much, if not more, than the physical training.

Endurance challenges are as much mental as physical — what strategies do you rely on when things get tough? Is it possible to use the fear of such an “impossible” feat?

There are a lot of mental strategies I use, but the biggest thing is that when I’m on an adventure, I genuinely don’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

That’s when I feel most alive, most free, and most myself in that raw, gritty state of being human. In a lot of ways, I feel more like a fish out of water when I’m not on an adventure. So I don’t need as much motivation as people might think, because I truly love what I’m doing and how it makes me feel.

I also try to approach it with extreme gratitude. I know that most people could never even attempt something like this because of different life circumstances, responsibilities, or limitations. So just having the chance to be out there on the ocean is something I don’t take lightly. And when you’re grounded in gratitude, it’s harder for your mind to stay in a negative place.

That said, sleep deprivation makes everything harder. It becomes much more difficult to stay emotionally steady. So when things get tough, I try to break everything down as small as possible. I don’t think about the whole ocean. I think about the next stroke, the next meal, the next hour, the next thing my body needs.

I try to give myself fully to the present moment. If I can listen to my body and take care of what’s directly in front of me, then the miles and the results tend to take care of themselves.

I also do a little bit of mental “brainwashing.” Instead of telling myself, “This is so hard,” I’ll tell myself, “This is easy. I can do this all day.” It sounds silly, but it works. It doesn’t always make the hard thing easy, but telling myself something is impossible has never made it any better.

And yes, I definitely feel fear. But I don’t think fear is always a bad thing. Fear is information. It’s energy. It can be used as a tool to identify risks, prepare better, and make smart decisions.

My time in the Coast Guard helped me learn how to work through fear in uncomfortable situations, and I’m really grateful to have those experiences to draw strength from. The goal isn’t to eliminate fear. It’s to listen to it, prepare because of it, and then keep moving forward.

What sections of the journey concern you the most from a physical or navigational standpoint?

With ocean rowing, the most dangerous parts are often the beginning and the end.

Getting away from land safely is one of the biggest concerns because conditions near shore can be more unpredictable and volatile. The goal is to get offshore as quickly and safely as possible, where the conditions become more consistent.

Physically, the first week can also be one of the hardest. Seasickness is a real possibility. I got lucky on the Atlantic and didn’t struggle too much with it, but the Pacific is a different ocean, and I could definitely experience it this time. That would make everything harder especially trying to row up to 14 hours a day while your body is adjusting.

Landing can also be incredibly challenging. On my last ocean crossing, I ended up two countries west of my original destination, so I know firsthand that the end of the journey doesn’t always go according to plan. The ocean has a way of reminding you that you’re not fully in control.

That’s why I’m working with an experienced weather router who understands ocean rowing. Having the right people in my corner is really important, especially for those more complex navigational sections at the start and finish, and throughout the entire journey.

So physically, the first week and the cumulative wear and tear over months at sea are big concerns. Navigationally, the sections that concern me most are definitely getting away from land and getting back to land safely.

How are you preparing for long days, changing weather, and the unpredictability of the ocean, other than the funny clips we’ve seen online from raincoat testing and storm desensitizing? Does this differ from the preparation for your previous Atlantic journey?

I wish I could say preparation is just endless hours in the gym, but so much of ocean rowing preparation is logistics.

Ocean rowers often say the hardest part is getting to the start line, and I understand why. Right now, so much of the preparation is gear, shipping, customs, planning, systems, and making sure every small detail is accounted for before the boat reaches the start.

The physical training is important, of course. I’m training about two hours a day, but because I have a strong base from 15 years of endurance challenges, the focus now is more on fine-tuning, building strength, and preventing injury. I’m also working on building and maintaining muscle because I know I’ll likely lose some during the row. Even with high calories, I’ll be asking a lot of my body.

In May, I’ll spend a couple of weeks with the boat builder, training on the boat, getting familiar with the systems, testing gear, and making sure I know the boat inside and out before it ships.

The preparation is different from the Atlantic in a few ways. Before the Atlantic, I spent a lot of mental energy wondering if rowing an ocean was even possible. This time, I know it’s possible. I know I can row an ocean, and that gives me a different level of confidence.

At the same time, the Pacific is much longer, so it’s not something I take lightly. But technology has also changed a lot since my Atlantic crossing. Back then, there was no Starlink. This time, I’ll have the ability to stay more connected.

That said, adventures always come with curveballs. You can prepare as much as possible, but you never know exactly what problem or hurdle will show up next. That unpredictability is part of what makes it exciting, but it also keeps you humble.

The good thing is that once I’m on the ocean, I feel in my element. For me, the hardest part is often everything it takes to get there.

How do you handle moments of doubt or isolation during long, solo efforts?

The first time I experienced those feelings, I would panic a little. I would assign so much meaning to them and think, Something must be wrong. Something needs to be fixed.

Now I understand that doubt, loneliness, and fear are just part of the process. They’re like clouds passing through. They can feel intense in the moment, but they don’t last forever.

Adventure has taught me not to take every feeling personally. Just because I feel lonely doesn’t mean I’m not strong enough. Just because I feel doubt doesn’t mean I made the wrong choice. It usually just means I’m human, and I’m in the middle of something hard.

The biggest lesson is impermanence. No matter how sad, lonely, or low I feel, I know I won’t feel that way forever. If I can sit with it, breathe through it, and keep going, eventually it shifts.

And in a strange way, those lows are part of what make the highs so powerful. The depth of the struggle often becomes the height of the joy. It’s almost like the hard moments are storing up future gratitude, future strength, and future joy.

What have previous experiences taught you about pushing through limits?

My journey in endurance started as a benchwarmer.

I didn’t grow up thinking of myself as athletic. I actually avoided sports and most athletic things. In college, I had to take a gym class, so I picked what I thought would be the easiest option: a walk-jog-run class.

At the time, I didn’t think I could run a mile. But one week, mostly out of boredom, I decided to try. And that one mile changed everything for me.

It taught me that just because you think you can’t do something doesn’t mean you’re right. You can believe something is impossible, and it may still be possible. The only way to find out is to try.

That lesson has stayed with me through every endurance challenge since. Doubt can feel very convincing, but doubts aren’t facts. They’re just thoughts. And sometimes the thing you’re most afraid you can’t do becomes the thing that changes your life the most. I’ve learned that if something scares you, sometimes that’s not a sign to run away from it, sometimes it’s a sign to move toward it.

The trip is currently set for December 2026, what are some of the biggest logistical hurdles people might not realize that go into a trip like this?

I touched on it briefly but one of the biggest logistical hurdles is shipping.

People might think the hardest part is just getting physically ready to row across an ocean, but sometimes the biggest stress is making sure the boat, food, gear, and supplies actually make it to the start line.

There have been other ocean rowers who nearly had to abandon their entire journeys because customs wouldn’t release their boats or food supplies in time. The idea of planning for years and then being unable to start because your equipment is stuck in customs would be devastating but it’s a very real part of international expeditions.

There’s only so much you can control when you’re shipping a boat and months of supplies overseas, especially to a remote starting location. That’s why we’re trying to be as proactive as possible and work with the right people early.

Thankfully, the embassy is doing what they can to help support a smooth shipment process, and we’re building in as much preparation and flexibility as possible. But it’s definitely one of those behind-the-scenes pieces people don’t always see: before you can row the ocean, you first have to get everything to the ocean.

For someone following along online with your journey, what can they expect to see day-to-day?

I think we’ll find out together.

That’s part of what makes a journey like this so exciting. The Atlantic was an emotional roller coaster — really high highs and really low lows — and I expect the Pacific will have a lot of that too.

People can expect to see the real, unfiltered side of the journey: the rowing, the routines, the exhaustion, the problem-solving, the beautiful moments, and probably some ramblings from having way too much time alone with my thoughts.

There will also be the magic of the ocean. On the Atlantic, I had visits from dolphins, sharks, sea turtles, and glowing plankton. Those moments stay with you forever, and I hope to share as much of that wonder as I can.

But more than anything, I want people to feel like they’re part of the journey not just watching the polished highlights, but experiencing the unknown with me as it unfolds. So the answer is: we’ll see what the Pacific gives us, and we’ll find out together.

How does public support (messages, donations, sponsorships, etc) affect you when you’re out there on the water? (*note* I read that you have some little crochet mementos, so cute, I’m a crocheter so that makes my crafter’s heart happy!)

[First, I love that you’re a crocheter. I was actually thinking about bringing crochet with me for the days when the weather is too rough to row, but I’m not sure how well yarn and salt air would get along.]

Public support means so much, especially because this journey is about something much bigger than me. The most encouraging thing people can do is support the clean water mission, whether that’s through donating, sharing the journey, or helping spread the word.

The messages are incredibly heartwarming too. When I’m out there alone, it’s powerful to know people are following along and cheering for the mission. It reminds me that even though I’m physically alone on the ocean, the journey is not something I’m carrying alone.

At the same time, I try to stay rooted in the purpose more than the praise. When you do something publicly, not everyone will understand it, and that’s okay. The goal isn’t to be liked by everyone. The goal is to help bring clean water to 100,000 people in Fiji.

On good days, the support feels amazing. On harder days, I can feel the weight of wanting to do right by everyone who believes in the mission. So I try to come back to the why: clean water, the people this journey is meant to serve, and the reminder that every message, donation, and sponsor is part of something much bigger than one person rowing across an ocean.

For potential donors, what would you say makes this cause a meaningful investment rather than just a one-time contribution?

I love that you used the word investment, because that’s exactly how I see it.

Clean water is not just a one-time gift. It creates a ripple effect that touches health, education, economic opportunity, and dignity. When a community has access to clean water, children are healthier, girls can spend more time in school, families spend less time collecting water, and people have more opportunity to work, build, and thrive.

There’s also a real economic return. Every $1 invested in clean water can create an estimated $4 to $12 in economic return for a community.

But beyond the numbers, this is about our shared humanity. We’re all on this planet together, and when we raise the standard of living for one person, one family, or one community, we raise it for all of us.

That’s what makes this so meaningful. A donation to clean water doesn’t just help someone for a day. It can change the direction of a person’s life for years to come.

What are you most excited about as we head into the warmer months, what are some next steps?

Training with the boat builder this summer is definitely going to be one of the biggest highlights.

He is arguably one of the best ocean rowers in the world. He holds world records for the fastest solo, fastest two-person, and fastest four-person ocean crossings, and he has crossed the Atlantic 19 times. So having the chance to learn directly from someone with that level of experience is incredibly exciting.

The next steps are really about turning the dream into a fully operational expedition: getting time on the boat, learning the systems, dialing in the gear, finalizing logistics, and continuing to build the clean water campaign behind it.

Training with the boat builder this summer is definitely going to be one of the biggest highlights.

As the warmer months come, it will start to feel more real. The training becomes more specific, the boat preparation ramps up, and the pieces start coming together for the Pacific. It’s the season where this shifts from a big vision into something very tangible. After a winter of driving through snowstorms to row indoors at The Foundry, just getting to row without scraping ice off my car first will feel like a win.

What are you most nervous/not excited about post-row? I’ve read that the recovery time will be long and difficult once you’re back home.

The hardest thing for me is usually not starting adventures, it’s ending them. I’ve never finished a journey and felt like I wanted to stop. I’ve almost always wished it was a little bit longer, or I’ve come home feeling even more energized by what’s possible.

So I want to give myself space to recover and see what I actually need when I get there. But at the same time, I have a bigger round-the-world vision that keeps pulling me forward. If my mind and body are ready, I’d love to get back out there a few months later and continue the journey by cycling across Australia.

There’s a lot of work to do to pull all of that off, but the Pacific is part of something much bigger. And if I’m able to continue, I would love to keep going.

You’ve said that this trip is the culmination of a lifetime moving toward something bigger than me. After this is all done and over, how do you think you will personally define success for this journey?

The vision is pretty laser-focused: helping 100,000 people in Fiji gain access to clean water. To me, that is the clearest definition of success. If this journey helps ensure clean water for everyone in Fiji, then it will have accomplished what it set out to do.

On a personal level, I think success would mean knowing I gave everything I could not just physically on the ocean, but in how I used the journey to serve something bigger than myself.

I also hope success looks like staying connected to who I want to be through the process. Big adventures require a lot of focus, and sometimes that means I’m less available to friends and family than I wish I could be. So part of success for me would be coming through this journey with my relationships, my health, and my sense of purpose still intact.

Records and finish lines are meaningful, but they’re not the whole picture. For me, success would mean reaching the other side helping create real impact and knowing the journey was worth what it asked of me.

Other than the dominating First American Woman to Row the Pacific Solo title, are there any other firsts associated with this project that you're excited for, personal or otherwise?

There are a few records or firsts that could be on the table.

If successful, this could also become the first woman to row solo from South America to Australia, the fastest solo Pacific row by a woman, and the first American woman to row solo across two oceans.

Those milestones are exciting, and I don’t want to minimize them, because they help show what’s possible especially for women in endurance and adventure.

But ocean rowing is such a unique sport because so much is outside your control. Weather, currents, equipment, health, and conditions can all change the outcome. So while the records are meaningful, I try not to hold them too tightly.

At the end of the day, I’ll be grateful to come out of this alive, healthy, and knowing the journey helped move us closer to clean water for everyone in Fiji.

The records would be incredible, but the real success is the impact and hopefully showing others that what seems impossible might just be possible.

Think you’ll have enough after this trip for a new book, or anything currently in the works?

Thanks for the reminder. I probably do need to follow up on that conversation. I have been in some early conversations about a book, but nothing is confirmed yet.

I do think it could be a really rewarding project. Writing a book about my Atlantic crossing was incredibly meaningful, because it gave me a chance to process the journey and share the lessons in a deeper way than social media allows.

A book about the Pacific could also become another tool to further support the clean water mission. It would be a way to keep the story going long after the row is over and hopefully continue raising awareness and funds for the 100,000 people we’re working to reach in Fiji.

What does your life look like outside of these challenges/missions? Ever get out on the water purely for fun?

Outside of the big challenges, my day-to-day life is probably quieter than people might expect.

My main work now is speaking, so I do travel quite a bit for that. Before that, I served in the Coast Guard, which is a big part of why I feel so connected to the water and to service.

When I’m not training or working on the mission, I love spending time with friends and family, listening to podcasts, doing puzzles, and I’ve been learning to unicycle — which is very humbling and slightly ridiculous in the best way.

And yes, I absolutely love stand-up paddleboarding. That’s probably one of my favorite ways to get on the water purely for fun. It feels peaceful, playful, and a lot less intense than rowing across an ocean.

I’m also a huge introvert, so as the Pacific gets closer, I’ve been more intentional about protecting my social battery. This project will require me to be more public than I’ve been in a long time, so I’m trying to create enough quiet and space in my everyday life to show up fully when it matters.

Have you ever done long-distance treks on the Great Lakes/any plans for the future?

I haven’t done a major long-distance Great Lakes expedition yet, but I would love to.

Not all of my adventures are global. One of my favorite adventures was actually running across the state of Ohio from Cincinnati to Cleveland, so I love the idea of doing meaningful endurance projects closer to home too.

A friend and I have talked about potentially kayaking the Great Lakes someday, which would be incredible. Right now, the Pacific row and the bigger around-the-world journey are the larger priorities, but the Great Lakes are definitely on my mind.

I’ve especially thought about doing something on Lake Erie — maybe by stand-up paddleboard or kayak, with a support boat. Being from Ohio, it would be really meaningful to do something adventurous on the water close to home.

So yes, it’s definitely something I’d love to explore in the future.

What are some other missions/causes that you would want readers to know about and support?

Of course, clean water is the mission closest to my heart, especially right now with the goal of helping 100,000 people in Fiji gain access to safe water.

But more broadly, I would encourage people to find something they’re genuinely passionate about and start there. There are so many worthy causes, and I think the most sustainable kind of giving comes from a personal connection.

Maybe it’s clean water. Maybe it’s mental health, veterans, animals, education, the environment, or something happening in your own community. The cause matters, but so does finding the one that makes you feel called to act.

I love the Margaret Mead quote: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

That’s really how I see change. Everyone has a “drop in the bucket” to give — whether that’s money, time, skills, connections, encouragement, or simply helping share a story.

The important thing is not to wait until you feel like you can do something huge. Start with what you have, where you are. Small acts, multiplied by many people, can create real change.

Quick stats/Speed Round Up

Top 3 songs from your trip playlist: All Sia songs (my fave!)

Something unique you’re taking with you: Mermaid Marci Mascot

Favorite snack you’ve picked out so far: Endangered Species Chocolate bars (240 of them!)

Finish line meal or activity: Watermelon and long shower

Sharks or whales? Sharks

Blisters or headaches? Headaches

Sunrise or sunset? Sunset

Supporters can learn more about the Pacific Row for Water, donate to the clean water campaign, and follow Katie's progress at KatieSpotz.com.