My first 50k!

It’s been a week since my first (yes, I’ll be doing more) 50k ultramarathon. Today, I reflect throughout the day at about which mile I was on at various times throughout the day, how I was feeling, what was going through my mind, the time I crossed the finish line, and the recovery. The weather was perfect; 60s, cloudy, and a little rainy with the emergence of sunshine by afternoon, and unless I get hit in the head and have severe memory lapse, I’ll never forget my first 50k, the Playin’ Possum 50K at Delaware State Park. (Although I’m sure every event with a lot of K’s will have memories worth noting.) 

The Playin’ Possum 50K is an amazing event that is the brain child of a couple of amazing trail dudes, Mark Carroll and Chad Heald. The course is beautiful and relatively flat as it winds through the woods, across the dam (hate that dam), through a wildlife preserve, and just a little bit of road (I deemed one gravel road ‘the road to hell’). Despite the beauty of the surroundings the 50K is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Yes, even harder than giving birth. It was longer than labor and there was no epidural. I’m looking forward to running Possum again. I taped up well and even walked away without any blisters and minimal chaffing. I only wished that I had two bras on (being a DD is hard when you’re a runner), and a shirt that dried faster. At some points of the race I was chilled because my shirt was soaked from sweat and rain. Annoying.  

All taped up! 

Although I did not hit my time goal of 7 ½ hours I did manage to squeak through the finish line at 7:59:54. It’s hard for me to not be hard on myself as I look at those numbers but considering the circumstances (hold that thought..) I’ll take it. I am a goal-oriented person and when I miss a goal it is tough to chew. But I am also smart enough to know that you have to take the bad with the good sometimes and look at getting better for next time. Chuck it as a learning experience and improve from there. I was on target for my goal till about mile 23 when a foot injury from a month earlier reared its ugly head and decided to remind me “Hey, remember when you injured me last month? Here I am! Don’t forget about me.” It just added to the mental exhaustion I was trudging through and almost brought me to tears. The agonizing and shooting pain was enough to slow my pace significantly for the remainder of the race. Thus, taking me off the mark for my goal. It is what it is. Move on, right?

Here’s a little recap of what I experienced at various moments through the miles:

Slow start (that’s normal for me) and lower leg burning to work out before running smooth. The pack of runners were ahead of me and I didn’t care. I know enough to not give a shit about anyone else’s pace, and knew that the pack would thin out eventually. It’s fitting for me because I’ve always been a lone wolf versus a sheep in a herd. It is what it is. Carry on.

My lungs were finally ‘warm’ at mile 2.19. Yep, I looked down at my GPS at the exact moment I could feel comfort in breathing and ability to take a lungful of air.  #asthmasucks

My right hip and glutes were letting me know that I don’t spend enough time on flexibility training and with my foam roller by mile 8. Let the mental games begin. Experience has taught me that your body will get pissed off and you have to convince it to keep moving no matter what. You convince your body that what you’re doing to it is good. I kept my pace and began focusing more on rhythmic breathing (a technique I practiced throughout the 31 miles). But at the same time I was up on that stupid dam that just seems to go for miles and miles. A sense of relief when you get off the dam, just so you know. It’s the small victories we’re thankful for in running.

I became quite the cranky Cat on mile 11 when I experienced the infamous ‘hitting the wall’. Annoyed, I pulled out a raw bar and electrolyte gel and pushed through the wall. No time to stop.  Mile 12 was on the ‘road to hell’ and thus, the crankiness continued but I was driven to get off of the stupid road and didn’t stop. My mantras; ‘pace, stay on pace’ and ‘keep moving, just keep moving’.

Thanks to a wonderful stitch cramp in my left side I walked mile 13. I still continued to focus on breathing and popped an Advil Cold and Sinus tablet (helped my hip/glute and runny nose). I took the time to practice fast-paced walking to get me through. Now back to the dam…The return is not as daunting as the first pass so the run back seems to have a new perspective as you’ve almost reached the ½ way point and start to run numbers through your head on how far you’ve come, your time, gauge what the second ½ will be like, and foresee a finish time.

At mile 15, I practically sprinted. Feeling a new sense of awesomeness, I ran with it and got off that damn dam! Woohoo! Back to the woods! One mucky creek crossing later I felt great by mile 18 at the aid-station check-in, said hello to my Italian friend, Luca, and old Rogue CF friend Nick Longworth (who introduced me to trail running back in 2008), and kept on moving. This break was much needed as my mental toughness needed a break.

Feeling good at mile 18!

Life was good and I kept on moving to my favorite part of the entire course: the serene and wooded Mink Run, Briar Patch, Lakeview, and Big Foot trails. Ahhh, my weekend stomping grounds. At mile 19, I felt like crying tears of relief because I had reached a state of relaxation and didn’t want to go back to the mental tough game that I knew would return at some point. My brain was exhausted. Like visiting an old friend I pushed though the familiar trails knowing where the tree roots were, where the mud pits were, where the low hanging branches were. Good times.

I checked in at mile 22 and despite exhaustion, life is still good. Keep moving. Head up through the Bigfoot trail (one of favorites as it has a section of canopied trees that shelter you), I hit mile 23 and BOOM! My left foot injury becomes incredibly irritated and I feel like any healing I’ve done the past month has all been undone. If you heard F-bombs and agonizing noises on the Bigfoot trail, that was me. Not only was I forced to reckon with the pain but because of the pain I had to change my gait and compensate by putting additional weight on my other leg. My other leg (the same as the pissed off hip/glute) was holding as strong and fighting fatigue as much as it could. This shift gave me ‘trail toe’. A black toe nail on my right foot. 

Having an injury is where mud on the trail can be more dangerous than usual because of the instability in the mud, your feet and ankles are subject to even more strain, and the injured foot at this point is not dealing with instability very well delivering shooting pain every step of the way. It obviously poses a challenge that is 100 times harder than usual. Part of the [many] beautiful aspects of trail running is the constant varied movement needed to adapt to the terrain. It challenges you. Simply. The core is actively engaged the entire time. Your body is shifting and adapting the entire time. Your brain cannot lapse or zone out because of tree roots, wildlife, mud, downed trees, uneven terrain, etc. The element of being in a steady-state is almost non-existent. We’ve all been there and have scars to show where we ‘goofed’ and tripped over a tree root or two. In a race for time, you’re pushed to stay focused even more to avoid a goof that could take you out of competition altogether. Rookie mistake.  

Mud! 

I checked in at mile 26, limping to the aid-station trying to shake it off. I refilled my water, finished my raw bar, guzzled a gel pack, and went about hobbling along determined to finish. Evidently, my determination was so obvious that a couple of the aid-station workers approached me after the race to make sure I was doing ok. Trail culture is awesome. Quitting was not an option for me. Don’t get me wrong, I pick my battles. In my mind, if I can walk I can run. And running small intervals with a lot more walking is how I finished. Bottom line, I didn’t have any fleshy wounds or bones sticking through my skin, so keep moving. Stay in the game. I’m not going to lie but I felt like crying on mile 27 because the pain was bad and my mental toughness was sick of it. But I stuck through it. DNF was not an option. “Just keep moving, just keep moving”.   

By mile 28 a much needed new outlook came over me. I was almost done. I was beginning the celebration in my mind which helped the last 3 miles seem like the shortest of them all. Limping along like an injured animal I partly trekked and jogged continuing to follow the little pink flags through the discus golf course and creeped closer and closer to the finish line. I emerged from the woods and there was my cheering section. Exactly what I needed. Major props go to my Italian friend, Luca, who pushed me to the end running alongside of me next to the beach to the finish line, giving inspiring motivation talk, and making me aware of where I was on the clock. To be honest with you, I totally forgot about the clock. He knew that when he pointed out the time that I would be determined to ‘beat the clock’. He was right. The inner competitor in me didn’t want to be the clock’s bitch. I had to beat it and I did. I squeezed in under 8 hours, and I all I could think was ‘wow, that’s a long-ass time to be running’ and I’m finally here. I survived only slightly broken. Inside, I was disappointed of my time but knew at that moment I was going to sign up for next year so I could beat that time by a landslide. Eff that clock and 8 hours.

Emerging from the woods heading to the finish line on the beach! 

My post-run recovery was good. Once I was ready, I took my muddy shoes and socks off, sat down and nibbled on some food. I sat and reflected on the miles, shared how my pace overall has slowed down the past year since I hadn’t been doing strength work, told my buddy Nick Longworth that this whole ultrarunning thing was his fault. My way of thanking him.

My buddy Nick. 

My buddy Luca. 

Proof I finished! Ha! 

The pain made it difficult to walk to the parking lot. I ate almost an entire pizza for dinner, chilled the rest of the weekend at home, and felt like I had a hangover. A 50k hangover, I’ll take it. 

Happy trails,
~Cat~