Fifty miles is a long way. Duh, right? But even after completing the Dam Yeti 50, I still cannot wrap my head around it. I tried not to write a novel in my attempt to capture the day. Tried being the operative word. But don’t worry… there’s plenty of pictures!

Barry and I headed down to Damascus on Friday afternoon. He would be crewing me on race day, and I was so excited to have him there for my first 50 miler. We met up with Kim and Charlotte and ate some Subway for dinner. From there, we headed over to packet pick up, where we grabbed our bibs, race shirts, and a few extra goodies.

There were several reasons why I chose the Dam Yeti 50 for my first 50 miler. For one, it’s close to where we live. Two, I liked the idea of running it on a rail trail to take technical trails out of the equation (although that ended up presenting its own challenges). But most of all, I hear such great things about Yeti Trail Runners and the races put on by Jason. He has so many special touches – from writing a message on the back of each runner’s bib to standing at the finish line ALL day to greet each runner. He truly wants every runner to have a great experience, and we continued to see evidence of that throughout the weekend. I think it’s safe to say I will be a repeat offender with the ‘Yeti Trail Cult’ in the future.

We also met up with Kelly and her husband at packet pickup. Kelly was running her first 50 miler, too. It was so nice to finally meet her in person, although I felt like I already knew her from interacting through Meg’s Miles. From there, we headed back to Damascus to the house Kim, Charlotte, and I rented for the weekend to settle down for the night.

I headed to bed around 10 PM and did not sleep a wink the whole night! Okay, so I did doze off briefly at one point – just long enough to have some bizarre dream about walking to the race shuttle still in my PJ’s. I got up a little before 4:30 AM, before my alarm even went off. Race morning had finally arrived.

Despite my sleepless night, I was feeling pretty calm on race morning. I had a checklist of things to follow (braid hair, breakfast, sunscreen, etc.) and I just focused on that. At 5:45 Barry drove us over to catch the shuttle.

The shuttle ride took about 30-35 minutes, winding our way up to Whitetop. I’m glad I don’t get carsick! Once we got up there, I saw the very long line waiting to use one of the two bathrooms at the trailhead. So off to the woods I went to find a spot to pee. My pre-race bathroom spot even had a lovely view of a Christmas tree farm!

With business taken care of, I reconvened with Kim, Charlotte, and Kelly. We enjoyed a funny pre-race talk from Jason and before I knew it we were off and running! No turning back now. Dam Yeti was really happening.

I was nervous as we started out, but I was also excited. My plan was to focus on running aid station to aid station, instead of thinking about the race as a whole. I think that’s how you get these things done – one step at a time. It was cloudy, cool, and overcast. The trail meandered in and out of the Mount Rogers National Recreation Area, as we made our way down the mountain. Being surrounded by the dense forest helped me settle and find some inner peace about the challenge that lay ahead.

I started the race using a 30 minute run / 5 minute walk interval. My main focus was to run conservatively during the first 18 miles to Damascus, since they were all downhill. I didn’t want to have too much pounding on my joints. Before I knew it, I was rolling through Green Cove at mile 3.

I continued to follow my plan, and a little over two hours into the race I was coming through Taylor’s Valley. I arrived at the first aid station just beyond Taylor’s Valley, between miles 10 and 11. I still felt fresh and was running steady. The volunteers at the aid station were enthusiastic. They even offered me Fireball! Sadly, I turned them down. One time, I thought it would be a good idea to eat cinnamon bears while running and it made me sweat profusely. I didn’t want the same thing to happen with cinnamon whiskey, especially with 40 freaking miles still to run. So maybe next time!

From here it was another 7 miles to Damascus – the second aid station and the first time I would get to see Barry. On the way there, my right hip and right upper hamstring started to bother me a bit. It would come in waves, and I hoped it wouldn’t become a lingering issue.

My plan was to arrive in Damascus no sooner than 4 hours, and I came in around 3:57. Good enough!

Barry refilled my water for me while I dropped off my trash, put my next round of fuel in my pack, and reapplied chafing stuff and sunscreen. I think I spent about 4-5 minutes here before heading back out. I also got to see some of my Blacksburg peeps on my way out, which was cool!

As I made my way towards the third aid station at Alvarado / mile 25, I started seeing the 50K runners on their way back. Alvarado was their turnaround, so the further down the trail I got the more runners I saw. We were all cheering each other on, which was fun. It was starting to get warmer and the trail was more exposed through here, so I was happy for the distraction.

I held on to my 30/5 interval for one rotation on the way to Alvarado before switching to an 8 minute run / 2 minute walk interval. It kept me moving well and helped me deal with the heat and the pain that was still coming in waves in my hip and hamstring. We were also running on a gradual uphill now (for the next 16 miles!), so the shorter run segments were more manageable for me.

After mile 22, my right hip and hamstring went from protesting to outright screaming at me. I’m not sure what the deal was, but I was determined not to let it stop me from accomplishing my goal. As I got closer to the aid station, lots of bikers coming down the trail kept telling me “you’re almost to the turnaround!” because it was the turnaround for the 50K. I tried not to let it get in my head, but it wasn’t easy to hear that over and over again before I had even hit the halfway point of my race.

Just before I arrived at the aid station, I saw Kim headed back towards the finish for her first 50K. I knew I would be seeing her soon and I was so excited for her. Charlotte wasn’t far behind me, and she and Kim ended up finishing within a minute of each other. I came into the aid station and got to see Barry again. I was also surprised to see my friend, and fellow Meg’s Miles runner, Selina! She had come down, along with Kelly’s daughter, to surprise Kelly for the race. After refueling, rehydrating, and reapplying sunscreen I was on my way towards Watauga. I also put in a request to Barry to have some Biofreeze for when I next saw him around mile 33 or 34 to try and help my hip and hamstring.

This next five mile stretch of trail from Alvarado to Watauga was the most beautiful. But it was also really hot. Don’t get me wrong, we had phenomenal weather for early June in southwest Virginia. It definitely could have been much worse. But it was so sunny and hot through here and I started to drag.

My roughest section of the race was from miles 27-33. I was still running, but I was cheating on my 8/2 intervals by doing some extra walking. I rolled through Watauga aid station at mile 30ish, where I refilled water and drank a cup of Coke. From here it was just 3 miles to the turnaround in Abingdon, but it took forever!

Despite my fatigue and the heat, it was kind of exciting to hit the 50K mark on my way to Abingdon. Lo and behold, I ran my second fastest 50K time ever during the race!

About a mile from the turnaround I saw Kelly headed back down the trail. She looked strong and confident and I was happy to see her running so well! Then I finally made it to the turnaround where I got to see Barry again. There was no aid station here, but he had provisions for me – including that Biofreeze and some surprise Swedish fish (the best candy)! His parents were also there to crew and cheer me on. Kelly’s crew (her husband, her daughter, and Selina) was still there, too. They gave me some ice, which I put in my bra and against the inside of my wrist with my buff. It felt ah-mazing!!

It was also here in Abingdon that I declared my distaste for peanut butter oat balls. They’re a homemade fuel I’d been using in training (oatmeal, peanut butter, honey, raisins, and dried cranberries). Somewhere past mile 25 I just did NOT want them anymore. But it was more than that. It was like they offended me for even existing. So I threw them down at the turnaround in Abingdon and told Barry not to give me anymore of them the rest of the race. Funny how stuff like that happens during a long run!

With all of that taken care of, I was back on my way down the trail. It felt good to finally be at the turnaround and on my way back towards the finish. There were “just” 17 miles to go! I also totally forgot about having just applied the Biofreeze. I had a moment of panic when I couldn’t figure out why one leg was suddenly ice cold. But then I remembered. 🙂

I was now running on a gradual downhill, and I thought I would start cruising again at this point. However, my quads had joined the protest party and I definitely wasn’t running the way I expected. But I kept moving as best I could.

I also discovered I could charge my watch on the run with a portable charger. The stupid thing started acting up 10 days before the race. So I had this plan in place, just in case, but I had no idea if it would actually work until I tried it at mile 34.

I ran back through Watauga, where I had some Mountain Dew and a couple of orange slices. From there it was 5 miles back through the open fields to Alvarado. I had been running for 9 to 10 hours, and I definitely started to get a little loopy at this point. I would think about eating, drinking, and taking a salt pill. And then a few minutes later I couldn’t remember if I had done any of it or not. The struggle was real.

I won’t lie, it was rough getting back to Alvarado. I was so hot and tired. But I also got to see my watch click over to 40 miles on the way there, and that was really exciting! Apparently I looked pretty rough coming in to Alvarado at mile 42ish. Enough so to worry Barry. But they had popsicles at the aid station, and that made life better. Barry also had more ice for me which helped immensely. I was feeling rough, but mentally I was very much still in the game. Things were starting to feel real. I was really doing this! I had 7-8 miles to the finish, and it was time to get it done.

I’m not sure what happened during this final stretch, but something clicked. Maybe I found another gear or a second wind. Or maybe I just found a new way to embrace the pain and fatigue. I’m not sure. But all of a sudden I was running strong again. I was truly sticking to my 8/2 interval and sometimes I was even running through it. I saw a giant turtle on the trail along the way, but ain’t nobody got time for pictures after 40+ miles of running.

I was running with a purpose in those final miles. It probably wasn’t really all that fast, but I felt like I was cruising and even saw some sub-11 paces pop up on my watch during those run segments. Even so, it felt like a long way back to Damascus. Finally, I saw Barry coming out to run the last mile with me. He was excited to see me running well, and that gave me even more of a boost. I crossed that final trestle bridge and could see the finish and hear my friends cheering me in.

Kim and Charlotte made a tunnel for me to run through, just like my old soccer days, and Jason greeted me at the finish line with a big hug. Running 50 miles was so hard. It was a long day. I was in disbelief that I had finally arrived at the finish line – 12 hours and 10 minutes after leaving Whitetop that morning!

After Jason gave me my medal and finisher’s glass, Barry and Selina had to remind me to actually cross the finish line. Then I was engulfed in a big hug from Barry.

After a few photos, it was time to go in the creek! We’d been running alongside water on and off for much of the race, and all I could think about was soaking my feet in the creek. Charlotte, God bless her, helped me get my shoes and socks off. Surprisingly, my feet fared really well. I didn’t have a single blister. However, I did have heat rash on both of my feet. That was a new one for me, but it was gone within a few days.

After sharing our war stories from the day, Kim, Charlotte, Barry, and I parted ways with Kelly and her crew. I grabbed a shower back at the house, and then we grabbed some dinner at the Damascus Old Mill Inn. We even had a lovely view of the waterfall (photo taken the next morning).

Overall, I had an incredible experience at the Dam Yeti 50 Miler. I think it was the right one for me for my first 50. Running a rail trail definitely presented it’s own mental challenge – especially since I ran on my own the entire race. But as I mentioned at the beginning of this very long race report, Jason pours his heart and soul into these events. He wants everyone to have a successful race.

Fifty miles is a long way. Even sitting here days later, I can’t comprehend it. But even though I can’t wrap my head around it, I still freaking did it. I went through low points and learned how to keep going and push through. I discovered new capabilities in how far I can go. Running 50 miles didn’t hurt more than the 50K’s I’ve run, it just hurt for longer. It was awesome, and hard, and long, and beautiful, and one of the most rewarding things I’ve done.

When you boil it down, it’s ultimately on the runner to complete the race. But it would not happen without the support of others. I’m so thankful for my friends and family who supported me throughout training and who sent me words of encouragement leading up to the race. I’m also grateful for the awesome volunteers at the race who kept me fed, hydrated, and in good spirits throughout the day.

I couldn’t have done it without the guidance and support of my coach, Janice, who got me to a 50 mile finish practically 13 months to the day after getting out of my boot from a stupid stress fracture. And most of all, I wouldn’t have the guts to take on these challenges without the unwavering support of my husband, Barry. He believes in me even when I’m doubting myself. Seeing him proud of me when I reach a new achievement is always the cherry on top of every accomplishment.

It’s one week until the Dam Yeti 50 Miler – the longest race I’ve ever attempted. I get a lot of questions from people who find out about my ultrarunning: How long does that take… Do you run the whole time… Do you eat during the race… etc. But the main question I get: Why?

It’s a simple question, but I’ve got a number of answers. Why do I run?

1. First and foremost, I run because the world is complicated and running is simple.
2. I like to try new distances to test my limits. I want to better my endurance, humility, mental toughness, and patience.
3. I run to get better at getting older.
4. Running allows me to escape the crowds, the noise, and the stresses of everyday life.
5. I run because it gives me a purpose and connects me with a community in which I thrive.
6. I run to explore nature, new places, and the limits of both my body and my mind.

Now specifically: Why run 50 miles?

1. To see how long I can hold the palm of my hand over the proverbial candle flame.
2. To push my limits and hopefully, in doing so, experience more joy and success than ever before.
3. To accomplish something that at times seems impossible.

The ultrarunning community is quirky. But it’s also wholesome and deeply meaningful. Fifty miles or bust…. Let’s do this!

Where to begin….

I could just cut to the chase. This race report will be a little different than those I’ve written in the past, because the Dirty German 50K was my very first DNF (did not finish). But let’s start from the beginning.

I signed up for the Dirty German 50K to get in a final long run before tapering for the Dam Yeti 50 Miler. Furthermore, I had heard great things about the folks at Uberendurance Sports and the events they put on. I was really excited to get in a supported long run on some new-to-me trails. Unfortunately, I woke up with a stomach virus on Thursday morning before the race.

The virus only lasted about 12 hours, but it took a lot out of me. I was able to keep ginger ale and Gatorade down on Thursday night, and nibbled on some Saltines Friday morning. By Friday afternoon I decided I felt well enough to give this thing a try, so my dad and I hopped in the car and headed up to Philadelphia.

We checked into our hotel, and headed out to find some dinner. Although the virus was gone, I still just didn’t feel great and food was not appealing at all. I ordered chicken and rice for dinner, and mostly just picked at it. Race morning rolled around and we headed over to the start. It was a large race, but we were able to find street parking easily. I grabbed my bib, and had just enough time to make one loop through mile-long bathroom line before the start.

If you didn’t already notice, the race had a German theme, and we got to enjoy some polka music by an accordion player at the start line. Just 36 hours after the last time I puked, I toed the start line of the race. (Sorry if that’s TMI, but I keep it real. Just wait…) The weather was perfect for a race, the atmosphere was fun, and I was hopeful that things would just work out somehow.

At 8 AM we were off and running. My plan was to go out super slow and see how things went. As we ran across the grass and towards the trails, I really couldn’t believe I was there doing this. I couldn’t believe my body was actually functioning and running.

I was feeling okay as I ran towards the first aid station at mile 3.5. I was definitely a bit weak and lacking energy, and it just did not feel good to be hot and sweaty so soon after being sick. But at this point, I thought I might be able to get through this whole race. The trails were pretty, I had good company around me in the other runners, and I was happy to be outside.

I rolled in to the first aid station and they had an awesome spread – and I wanted none of it. I had sipped on water during the first miles and managed to eat a few Honey Stinger chews, but that was it. I grabbed half a pickle spear and walked over to catch up with my dad, who was biking around the course to crew me. I spoke with him briefly before heading up the trail.

This stomach virus had such bad timing. I really enjoyed running through Pennypack Park at this race. The trails were very runnable with a few fun, technical sections. There were times that I could look around and not even tell I was in the middle of Philadelphia. And then there were other times where we would run through areas with urban features and graffiti.

The first part of the stretch from aid station 1 to aid station 2 got pretty congested. We were running along singletrack trails, and the lead pack of 25K runners (who had started 30 minutes after the 50K) were catching me. As they were zooming by from behind, I also started to encounter the lead 50 Mile runners on their way back (they started 30 minutes before the 50K). And I was the turtle in the middle of the highway. 🙂

We finally got off of the singletrack and onto a wider trail along the creek. Some parts of this trail were swampy, with some big mud puddles. They were fun to run through, but I can definitely see where this section could get miserable when the city has had a lot of rain, like in years past. I was having fun, but things were starting to go downhill for me.

As I neared aid station 2 at mile 7.5, I started to feel pretty bad. I felt like I might need to go to the bathroom, and my stomach was feeling like it was full of air. I kept having waves of stomach cramps that were so painful I wanted to curl up in a ball. I still hadn’t given up on this race, though, and I drank a cup of soda at the aid station (Ahem… Pepsi instead of Coke. Come on, man.). But again, I couldn’t bring myself to eat any food. My dad was there, and he said I needed to eat something. I don’t think I was rude at this point, but I made it clear I did not want anything. I headed back out on the trail towards aid station 3 at mile 12.

The course was a 25K loop in the shape of a figure eight. So even though aid station 1 and 3 were in the same spot, we only backtracked on a small portion of trail (that congested section from earlier). The 50 Milers and lead 50K runners were on their way back out again, so there was some traffic, but it wasn’t too bad. I kept trying to appreciate being out there, but my entire GI system was in the process of taking me down. Here’s some more TMI – I would have severe gas pain, would pass some gas, would get about 45 seconds of relief, and then the cycle would repeat. I don’t think this was remnants of the virus, so much as just trying to run a trail race on a system that was empty and out of whack. But who knows.

I made two pit stops on my way to aid station three, but it didn’t make much difference. I was feeling so awful, and was also getting dizzy on the uphills. I started to realize my day was probably over. The frustrating part is that my legs and feet felt great. They were ready to run! I finally made it to aid station three, where my dad was waiting. I bent over with my hands on my knees and moaned and complained, passed more gas, and day dreamed about laying down. But there was a tiny bit of resolve left in me. I thought if I could get some ginger ale from the aid station maybe I could get through this still, somehow. But they only had water, Pepsi, Gatorade, and Mountain Dew. An aid station volunteer was so encouraging – she recommended some potatoes with salt (I did have one small piece). She also encouraged me to focus on hydrating while I finished the loop, and to not give up.

I trudged on, determined to at least finish one loop. By this point the effort of going uphill was almost more than I could handle. And I couldn’t stand to run downhill because of all the air in my stomach. I wish I had been able to figure something out for this, but it was so different from other GI-related adversities I’ve faced during other races.

The final 3.5 miles took me forever. I could hear that accordion at the finish line playing for nearly a mile. I finally arrived at the finish and wasn’t sure what to do, having never DNF’ed a race before. I ran through the loop side of the finish line and informed the race staff that I was done. They sent me over to the timer so he could mark my bib number in the system. And then it was done.

After I finished speaking with the timer, a race official gave me a finisher’s medal. I was surprised and asked “I still get one of these?” And he replied “Yes, you completed the 25K.” The medal is a combination medal for all three race distances, so I guess I felt okay accepting it. I did not complete the race I signed up to run, which is disappointing. But I feel like 15.5 miles was an accomplishment in itself, given my circumstances.

After the race, my dad and I hung out in the post race area. There were lots of people hanging out, and it was a fun and festive atmosphere. As promised, they were cooking up some fantastic German food. I had been so looking forward to bratwurst at the finish. But it didn’t appeal to me at all, and I could barely even stand the smell. I managed to eat a couple of fig newtons and a few pretzels.

The race had a long cutoff time, and I practically had time to walk another loop. But to what end? I felt terrible, and there was no point in pushing my body further just to get an official finish. It was’t going to be beneficial training for Yeti, and I don’t know how long my recovery would have been if I had forced myself through another 25K.

So there you have it. The story of my first DNF. I’ve always been afraid of opening the door to DNF’ing at an ultramarathon. I feel like once you do it the first time, it will get easier to do in the future. However, I feel like this was a special case. And it was probably the right call. Fifteen days to Yeti!

A big aspect of running is mental, particularly when you start venturing into marathon distances and beyond. You can do all sorts of training, but come race day it still takes a certain amount of courage.

I seem to be hitting this mental block lately. Back in January I psyched myself out and bailed on a run with an awesome group of people. I have yet to return to attempt it again.

This year, I’ve had a few races that started out with big climbs. Physically, I’ve done what I needed to do. I’ve hiked them at a comfortable pace for me, and allowed the most of the race field to pass me by and pull ahead (I’m a slow hiker. My hiking skills need work, too). But I’ve struggled mentally during these climbs.

It’s this crazy, self-doubt type of struggle. It’s not that I don’t think I’m capable of the challenge. It’s more that I go into complete panic mode about the task at hand. And it gets completely out of hand. My heart rate rises and sometimes I get dizzy – and I know it’s not from my effort level. It’s from those feelings of panic and anxiety that I let take over.

Let me explain how out of control it gets. It manifest itself in the physical ways I described above. But I’ve also felt these feelings so strongly that I have contemplated turning around and walking back to the starting line – dropping out less than 1-2 miles into a race that I’m capable of completing, simply because I’m nervous. I don’t know what the deal is, nor do I know why this has been getting so out of control. But so far, I’ve managed it.

I felt these feelings very strongly during the first climb at Terrapin. Then at Hungry Mother, I felt it during the first climb and during the second set of climbs. But by the time we got to the biggest climb at mile 10, I had settled in and was focused on the work at hand. Somewhere during that race a mental shift occurred, but I’m not sure how I got there.

Yeti 50 Miler is looming. Although I won’t face any panic-inducing climbs at Yeti, I think the sheer distance of the race may bring on some nerves, fear, and even panic.

But I think some of that is healthy, as long as it’s on a manageable level. If you’re not at least a little nervous at the start of an ultra you’re either in denial or you’re insane. And fear, as long as it’s not out of control, just shows you have a healthy respect for what you’re doing. Right? Right.

All of the training that goes into preparing for a long distance race is physically necessary, but it also helps you work on the mental aspect. You prepare mentally, so that the fear and/or anxiety you feel on race day is manageable. It doesn’t take over.

I also think if you continue to step out of your comfort zone, it will get better. My theory is that each time you face that fear, you train your brain to understand it a bit better. And then next time you face something that scary, it’s not as bad.

I’ve been working on tools to get a handle on these mental challenges. Fifty miles is a long way. As I was out running 20 miles this past weekend, I realized 20 miles is what I will need to do after running 30 miles. That’s a lot, and I can’t quite wrap my head around it.

But like I said, I’m working on it. Hopefully come race day I’ll be prepared. In the meantime, if you’ve got any tips on how you endure when the going gets tough, I’m all ears.

The Hungry Mother 25K is a trail race that takes place at Hungry Mother State Park in Marion. This year’s race was on April 13. I love the trails at Hungry Mother. They’re beautiful and challenging. The race consisted of a 15.6 mile loop that showcased the trails throughout the park. There was also a 50K option that consisted of two loops.

I woke up on race morning with a pounding headache. There had been strong thunderstorms the night before, and I hadn’t slept well. I took some Tylenol, and had my pre-race coffee and breakfast. Then I hit the road to make the 1 hour 15 minute drive to Marion. I felt unusually tired on the drive there, as if I had been awake for a long time. But once I arrived at the park and walked around some, I felt better. My headache was gone, too.

I picked up my race stuff, which included a technical t-shirt, socks with the race logo, and a collapsible reusable cup. I headed back over to my car and made my final preparations for the race, while talking with two other runners parked next to me. We then headed over to the start/finish area for the pre-race meeting. It was overcast and in the mid-60’s, with storms in the forecast later in the day. At 8 AM on the dot, we were off and running.

We started out down the road before heading onto the trails. From there, we immediately started climbing. The course climbed approximately 400 feet over the first 1.2 miles. I primarily hiked, knowing we would have approximately 3,500 feet of climbing total over the 15 miles.

Despite the fact that I was going at my own pace, I once again started to get really anxious here. I don’t know what the deal is with these races that start out with a climb, but I just start to freak out for no reason. This doesn’t happen during training runs that start out with a climb. I tried to calm myself down and told myself to just do my own thing and enjoy being on the trails.

After the first climb there was a long, mostly downhill stretch. I had fun running down the trails through here. Just before mile 3, we began another 300 foot climb over about a mile. Again, I hiked. And again, I felt nervous. What the heck. I was completely fine a second ago. At the top, I was rewarded with a few nice views of the lake and of Molly’s Knob, the high point in the park.

From here was another long downhill to the first full aid station, a little after mile 5. The volunteers were awesome, cheering the runners down the hill and into the aid station. They had water and Heed, and an assortment of food. I refilled one of my flasks and grabbed a triangle of PB&J. I try not to spend more than a minute in aid stations, so I thanked the volunteers and headed out. As I was heading back out on the course, so was a girl named Lisa whom I had spoken with before the race. We have run several of the same races, and had actually finished within a minute of each other at Terrapin.

So we left the first aid station together, crossed the highway, and ran through a campground area. The campground was pretty full and I wondered what these people must think of the runners coming through. Many of them were sitting outside watching us go by and cheering us on. Lisa and I were chatting away with each other, and one gentleman joked we must be feeling pretty good. And I definitely was.

From the campground, we headed onto the lake trail and over to the CCC trail. I hadn’t run on this particular trail before, and I enjoyed exploring something new. The trail was surrounded by rhododendron. We encountered another climb through here, and Lisa and I separated a bit. Once again, my nerves spiked as I began to climb. But I kept moving, and before long I came to the top and was rewarded with another downhill back to the lake trail.

The weather was still in the mid-60’s, but with the effort of running it was starting to feel warm. Luckily a small rain shower and a light breeze moved in, and it felt so refreshing. I ran along the rolling lake trail before turning onto a trail that climbed up towards the next aid station just before mile 10. It was a big party here, and the volunteers were so enthusiastic. They helped me refill both of my water bottles, and I ate one of my gels. Looming ahead of me was a grueling 1.5 ish mile climb up to Molly’s Knob.

This section of the course was an out and back. As I began the climb, I saw runners on their way back down. We all exchanged cheers and encouragement with each other as we passed. The trail climbs steadily and relentlessly for the first mile. Then, for the last half mile or so it gets even steeper. It’s the kind of steep where you want to stop and take breaks, even when you’re just hiking. I was 2.5 hours into the race, and definitely feeling it. But the view at the top was spectacular.

From there, it was back down to the aid station. The descent is so steep in some places that it’s actually kind of painful to run down. But I was determined to make up some time here. I rolled into the aid station a little before mile 13, refilled my water again, and drank a cup of Coke. The lead 50K runner arrived at the aid station at the same time as me, as he made his way through his second loop. He still had the out and back to Molly’s Knob to do, so he was about three miles behind me. One of my goals was to finish before the first 50K runner, so I headed down the trail.

My legs were really fatigued now, but I tried to continue to run a strong pace down to the park road and along the lake trail. This next part is where the race director shows a bit of his masochistic side. 🙂 You’re literally within sight of the finish line, but first you hang a right and run a 2 mile loop.

There were a few more climbs in here, and I was really ready to be done. I was 3 hours and 50 minutes into my run, and my A goal for the race was to finish under 4 hours. Finally, I hit a downhill and knew I was headed back towards the road and the finish line. I hit the road without about 3 tenths of a mile to go, and pushed to the finish. I crossed the line in 3:56:48, just sneaking in under my goal. The RD gave me a high five and excitedly asked what I thought of the course. I told him I thought it was a great showcase of the park’s trails. And although it was demanding, I also really enjoyed it. The pride he took in the race definitely showed.

Remember that lead 50K runner? Well, he finished just 5 minutes after me, smashing the old course record. He had an incredible race, and I’m glad I snuck across the line before him, hah! From there, I enjoyed the delicious post-race lunch, provided by Sister’s Cafe, and a complimentary beer from Wolf Hills Brewery. Perfection.

Overall, I was really impressed with this race. It was well organized and the course was well marked. The volunteers were so helpful and supportive. I can’t say enough good things about the race. I will definitely be back to run it again in the future.