Inside Edition correspondent Jim Moret opened his report with a chilling image: nighttime footage showing multiple mountain lions moving together, their eyes reflecting light as they prowl through the dark.
Moret said the video is “like nothing” most people have seen, and he framed it as the backdrop to a deadly New Year’s Day attack in Colorado.
Colorado Parks and Wildlife said the victim was 46-year-old ultramarathon runner Kristen Marie Kovatch. Moret reported she was hiking alone near Rocky Mountain National Park when mountain lions attacked her.
Over on 9News, reporter Amanda Gilbert said Colorado Parks and Wildlife identified the location more specifically as the Crosier Mountain Trail near Glen Haven, just north of Estes Park.
Gilbert emphasized that Kovatch wasn’t a tourist passing through for a quick photo. Friends told her this was someone deeply rooted in the local running and hiking culture, the kind of person who knew trails the way other people know city streets.
What Investigators Say They Found On The Trail
Moret’s report included a key explanation from Kara Van Hoose, a public information officer with Colorado Parks and Wildlife.
Van Hoose said hikers came across a mountain lion “over a woman lying…in the middle of the trail.” She said the hikers got closer and threw rocks to scare the animal away.
Van Hoose also said the woman had wounds “consistent with a mountain lion attack.” That phrasing matters, because it’s careful and official, and it fits the way wildlife agencies tend to speak when facts are still being confirmed.
Moret described the animals involved as a “pack,” and he pointed to footage showing four mountain lions as an example of what hikers can run into on remote trails.
It’s important to keep the lines straight here: the footage shown in a news package and the animals involved in a specific attack are not always the same thing. But the larger point Moret was making still lands – mountain lions are not always solitary, and the idea of meeting more than one at a time is what makes people’s stomach drop.
Gilbert’s 9News report stayed focused on the human impact, but it reinforced the same basic reality: Colorado Parks and Wildlife said Kovatch died after a mountain lion attack on New Year’s Day.
When an agency like that makes a statement, it tends to mean the investigation has crossed the threshold from “possible” to “probable,” even if smaller details are still being pieced together.
And for anyone who spends time outside, there’s a blunt takeaway that’s hard to swallow: even experienced athletes and seasoned trail users can end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
A Runner And Hiker People Didn’t Forget
Amanda Gilbert’s reporting shifted from the attack to the person at the center of it, and that’s where the story stops being just another scary wildlife headline.
Gilbert spoke with a friend named Christina, who described Kovatch as a familiar face in Fort Collins running circles – fast, accomplished, and social.
Christina told Gilbert she met Kristen in 2016, on New Year’s Day, in a Fort Collins running group. Christina remembered Kristen introducing herself with a “huge smile,” then running a few miles and “taking off,” like she had somewhere to be.
Christina also told 9News that Kristen “loved Colorado,” loved being on the trails, and was “very warm” and “kindhearted.” She described her as someone who made friends quickly, which is a small detail that says a lot.
Gilbert included another moment that hit harder than stats ever could. Christina said she randomly crossed paths with Kristen on a trail this past summer while going through personal struggles, and Kristen spoke to her like “no time had passed,” offering encouragement that stuck.
That’s the part of loss that doesn’t show up in headlines. Not just the missing person, but the missing voice – the one who knew how to steady you when you were wobbling.
Gilbert also shared what she described as more background on Kovatch’s work life. She said Kristen worked as a medical assistant at UCHealth’s Heart and Vascular Clinic in Fort Collins for years, and that UCHealth released a statement expressing sadness and offering condolences to her loved ones.
Even without extra adjectives, that detail adds weight. Caring for patients day after day is its own kind of endurance sport, one that doesn’t come with medals.
Another Encounter On The Same Trail, And A Warning In Plain English
Moret’s Inside Edition report added a second, unsettling layer by spotlighting Mary Crone, who said she encountered a mountain lion on the same trail about three months earlier.
Crone told Moret she knew “in my heart” that what happened to Kristen “could have been me.” It wasn’t said for drama. It sounded like someone replaying a memory they can’t scrub out.
Crone said she was hiking with her 13-year-old terrier, Sugar, when a mountain lion appeared “out of nowhere.”
She told Moret the animal didn’t pounce, circle, or stalk her the way people imagine in movies. She said it was “silently and calmly” at her side, which is a terrifying description precisely because it’s so quiet.
Crone said she screamed, threw rocks and sticks, and the lion didn’t flinch. Then, she said, it “instantly grabbed” her dog by the neck.
Crone told Moret that when her dog took its last breath, she realized she couldn’t do anything else, so she retreated.
Moret narrated that viewers could see Crone backing away, and Crone added one detail that makes the situation feel even more precarious: she said there were two other mountain lions “pacing back and forth.”
That part is hard to read, and even harder to imagine living through. It also undercuts a comforting myth – that if you do the right thing, the animal will always back off.
Sometimes, even when you do what you’re “supposed” to do, the outcome still isn’t under your control.
What Safety Advice Sounds Like When It’s Not A Sound Bite
After walking viewers through the danger, Moret asked the obvious question: what can someone do if confronted by a mountain lion?
Kara Van Hoose of Colorado Parks and Wildlife gave a simple set of instructions that sounded designed for a panic moment, not a classroom.
Van Hoose said: make noise, don’t keep approaching the lion, and make yourself look bigger – like holding your arms over your head – while backing away.
Moret’s warning at the end was short but memorable: you “definitely don’t want to run into” multiple mountain lions.
That’s the kind of sentence that seems obvious until you remember how often people hike alone, pop in earbuds, and treat a trail like a sidewalk with prettier scenery.
This is where I’ll add a careful bit of perspective. News reports like these can make the outdoors sound like a horror movie, when for most people, most days, it isn’t.
But that doesn’t mean the risk is fake. It means the risk is rare enough that people get casual, and the moment you get casual is the moment you stop noticing what’s around you.
Gilbert’s reporting made it clear that for runners and hikers in northern Colorado, the mountains aren’t just recreation. Christina described them as a place people go to heal, to “find peace,” and to deal with life.
That’s why this kind of story hits so hard. It’s not just fear – it’s grief mixed with the unsettling feeling that a place you trust can still hurt you.
And for communities like the one Gilbert described – people who share miles, share quiet conversations, share sunrise starts – losing someone like Kristen Kovatch isn’t an abstract tragedy. It’s a missing runner in the group, a missing friend on the trail, and a reminder that nature doesn’t sign a safety contract with anyone.
Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, John developed a love for the great outdoors early on. With years of experience as a wilderness guide, he’s navigated rugged terrains and unpredictable weather patterns. John is also an avid hunter and fisherman who believes in sustainable living. His focus on practical survival skills, from building shelters to purifying water, reflects his passion for preparedness. When he’s not out in the wild, you can find him sharing his knowledge through writing, hoping to inspire others to embrace self-reliance.
