Earth Day 50k Race Recap
I did it! I ran my first 50k on Saturday. It has taken a few days for me to reflect on the race. I experienced so many intense feelings within one race that it was very difficult for me to even understand or identify how I feel about that day.
I listened to a podcast a few months ago that talked about failure. How we often are afraid to do things where failure is a real possibility. Often times in training, we select plans or goals that are challenging enough that we feel pushed, but where we can finish feeling satisfied that we accomplished what we set out to do. We rarely select races or goals where we could fail, and as a result, we never learn to be better. Failure is not bad. Failure is not the end of the world. When we do fail, we learn how to be better. We learn that it is ok to fail, but then we pick ourselves up and try again.
I knew signing up for a 50k raised the real risk of actual failure. I felt this more than any other race I had signed up for. Contrary to my fear of failure, I did believe in myself and my ability. I didn't just want to finish - I felt that I truly could. While I have been struggling the past few days with feeling like a failure because I did not accomplish what I hoped, I also learned a tremendous amount and am proud of the fact that I saw this goal through, regardless of how challenging it was.
Race Morning
I woke up at 4:30 a.m. after a fairly restless night of sleep. Thankfully I slept plenty Thursday night and my adrenaline helped to get me moving. I ate a first breakfast around 4:45 and was out the door at 5:30 to attend the packet pick up before the race. Much as I learned with the Chicago marathon, I knew I needed to eat again prior to the race. I was able to get another meal in during the car ride, and made it to the pickup to get my race bib and swag. As I walked up to the pavilion next to another man, one of the volunteers asked our race distances. I felt like a badass saying "50k", especially when the runner next to me was doing the 15 mile race. After receiving my swag and bib, I sat in the car with my husband for almost an hour before heading to the start/finish to await the pre-race announcements. It was a long wait and I started to feel excited and nervous. While waiting for the announcements, I was able to meet another Oiselle teammate which helped settled some of my nerves. After brief announcements and a very informal start, we were off!
The Race
The course consisted of 6, 5 mile-ish loops that in total would equal the 31 mile distance. It began from the pavilion where packet pick-up started, down a grass hill, across a bridge, and then up an incline that led into the woods. Most of the trail was single track, with varying gravel, pine needles, and dirt terrain. The trail alternated between ascents and descents, with very little flat terrain running. At one point the trail crosses a stream where runners would pass each other coming up or down a steep, narrow hill. Below is a picture of the entire race, with each one of the "peaks" being about a 5 mile loop.
Loop 1
The first loop was very slow and packed full of runners. As all distances (50k, 15 mile, 5 mile) started at the same time on a single track trail, it was very bottle-necked at times. I settled in with a group of people who had done the course before as well as several other 50k's, and it was nice to chat and keep my mind off of what lay before me. I did not wear headphones the first loop so that I could let others pass me if needed and because I wanted to pay attention to the course. I could tell right away that the course was more challenging than I expected. There were several "hills" that were extremely steep that made it impossible to run up. I stayed with my strategy of walking the uphills, which just about everyone was doing anyways. For a while I was leading a "congo line" of people which made me more conscious of how I was running and was looking behind me a lot to make sure no one wanted to pass me. My watch was showing a slower pace than I felt I was running, but it had to do with the terrain. I told myself that I needed to run by effort because it was a different experience than I was used to, and to leave the idea of pace alone. I really had to pay attention to my footing as the roots and gravel made it hard to keep balance coming down some of the steep downhills. When I was about 4 miles in, I tripped and fell, which completely threw me off. I was a little shaken and by the time I got to the start/finish and saw my husband, my nerves were rattled. I blew on through the aid station and onto the next loop.
Loop 2
I was still with some of the runners I was with for the first loop, so I settled in to the run more familiar with what the course now looked like. This time I ran behind the group of people I was with so that I was no longer having to lead the pack. This allowed me to run more of "my race" which meant at times I was a little further behind them and other times I caught up to them. Unfortunately I fell again at one point, much worse than the first time, and I instantly felt panicked. I tried to control my breathing and told myself to just let it go and shake it off, that I was fine, but falling a second time really shook my confidence. The Oiselle teammate passed me around mile 8 and I knew that I was not running as well as I wanted. I think this is where my mood darkened, and by the time I ran into the start/finish again, I was yelling at my husband that it was really difficult and I was struggling. I didn't stop but let him know that the next loop is when I would need him to take out my rice bar from the cooler and I was already looking forward to it.
Loop 3
This was probably the hardest loop of the day. This is when I realized that I was likely not going to make the 8 hour cutoff. Based upon the fact that I was now half way and my watch indicated that I would finish after 8 hours, I started to feel defeated. I started to employ a lot of my mental strategies to keep me focused and positive. I tried to turn negative thoughts into positive ones. I focused on some of the beautiful scenery around me, but then I fell. Bad. I slipped on loose gravel and cut my knee open. At that point I ran the rest of the loop fighting tears. I came into the start/finish where my husband was waiting, and as I started to eat my rice bar, I began to cry. I am sure to the onlookers, the scene was hilarious. Here I was, crying, as I was eating a rice bar. I knew in the back of my mind that I just needed to cry, eat, and get on with it. My husband was trying to reassure me that I could still do this, even though I dont think he really understood that I knew I was not going to make it within 8 hours. Physically it was almost impossible. I wanted to give up so bad, especially knowing that I had to do what I just did, 3 more times. Somehow I sucked it up, refilled my water and Nuun, and headed out for a 4th loop.
Loop 4
This loop was pretty dark for me. Physically I felt better after eating something more substantial, but the repetition of the course was starting to get to me. I would dread the parts that had steep climbs, knowing they were becoming more and more difficult, and I could feel the time slipping away. I fell again at some point, and another runner helped me up and told me he had fallen and twisted his ankle. I watched as he was somehow able to keep running while I was still shaken up. I was passed again by my Oiselle teammate, who by the way was the first woman finisher! I appreciated her positive words as we walked uphill together. She was truly inspiring to watch. About 3 miles in, I was passed by the girls I had been running with during the first 2 loops. The one girl asked how I was doing and I told her I was struggling and concerned with finishing. She told me that even if I didn't finish in the 8 hour time, I was still running the distance. During one of the last miles another runner passed me and he told me that I was looking good and that he struggled during his first 50k, and I realized how defeated I must be sounding to some of these people. I felt somewhat better after this interaction and finished the loop. When I came into the start/finish I did not see my husband, but then remembered that he was going to try to find me further on the course. One of the race organizers happened to fill my water and he told me I was looking good and to keep at it. I headed out for the 5th loop, hoping to see my husband.
Loop 5
The relief that I felt when I saw my husband was huge. I slowed to a walk and he walked up to the top of a hill with me, trying to reassure me that I was going to be fine. I told him that I wasn't sure if they would let me finish, knowing that I was going to be over the 8 hour cutoff, but he told me to keep moving. Another girl behind me asked if I wanted a running buddy, and we quickly got to chatting and running with each other. She told me that often times they will let you finish the race if you can get to the final loop before the cutoff. In my mind I knew I now had a new goal, and once I realized that my buddy was going slower than I wanted, I had to leave her behind. I really appreciated her taking my mind off of the race for a while, and after I left her I had a renewed sense of purpose. This loop was a better loop for me. While there were fewer and fewer people on the course, I was able to keep moving and would often never see another runner for minutes at a time. I fell again at some point, and another runner told me to stay there while he helped me up. The kindness that he showed helped get me moving again and I finished the loop with just over an hour to spare. I headed to my husband with tears in my eyes because I knew it would not be physically possible for me to finish within the 8 hour cutoff. The same race organizer who filled my water the previous loop told me to get back out there and that I could do it. He kept asking what food or hydration I needed, and I felt like I had a lot of people pushing me to get out there for the final loop.
Loop 6
The final loop. At this point I saw almost no other runners and ran this by myself. Many of the volunteers had left their posts and there were no more water stations open. I kept looking at my watch and that helped push me to run when I wanted to walk. For a while I thought maybe I could still make it. I knew this was a long shot, but it was enough to get me moving when all I wanted to do was stop. The hills that had seemed hard in the beginning were almost impossible to walk up. It took all my strength to climb some of the steepest inclines, and running down the rocky downhills became a dangerous mess that I was taking slower and slower as time went on. I had just over a mile and a half to go when my watch hit 8 hours. I started crying, alone in the woods. I felt like I had failed everyone. Everyone that had supported me, believed in me, and all I could think of was the idea I had of coming home and feeling proud of what I did, and how that now turned into a failure. How I wouldn't have a medal to show off. How I couldn't say I was a finisher. I had no idea if anyone was even left to watch me finish other than my husband. I kept running, but my pace had slowed significantly. With just over a half mile to go, there were two guys out running for fun and asked me how the race was going. I explained that it was basically over and that I was finishing but that it might not count. The guy turned to me and said, "do you know how many races I have dropped out of? You are still finishing". It was exactly what I needed to hear. I shuffled my way out of the woods, onto the grassy area, and started towards the finish. I didn't know what I would see, but I heard clapping, and as I started down the hill, I could see all of the race organizers and volunteers standing and clapping for me. I was so overwhelmed. I crossed the line and could hardly feel happy. Everyone was telling me "congrats" and that I had done it, but all I could say was, "but it doesn't count"! Then one of the volunteers told me, "do you see the clock? It is still going. It absolutely counts. Go get your medal"! I headed to the table with all of the unique, hand painted blocks of wood and could barely focus on what I was seeing to pick one out. Then I heard cheering and saw that the girl I had run with during loop 4 was coming in to the finish line. I stopped and joined the clapping, and watched as she, the last runner, finished. Her and I had done it.
Post Race
I was a mess post-race. I congratulated my running buddy, but alternated between crying and feeling happy. My husband hugged me at one point, and I just started sobbing. I think I was so relieved that it was over. I had posted before about not caring if I was the last person to finish, and I literally was one of the last people to finish. Somehow I still couldn't shake the feeling of failing. It was not the race or experience I wanted. It had turned into my personal hell. I headed home where even sitting in the car was uncomfortable. The finishing of an ultra is beyond the pain that is felt after a road marathon. I could barely walk after getting out of the car, and taking a shower was pure torture as I had to wash out the cuts on my knees.
I didn't have much of an appetite but was very dehydrated (no surprises there). I feel like I didn't get to enjoy the eating part of race celebration. I wanted to eat more than I could, and I had no energy to care about much. I was still crying any time I thought about the finish, and alternated between feeling like a failure and feeling happy I finished.
I still feel like this today. While I struggle with my overall performance, I am proud of what I did. I did not give up, despite falling, being challenged and pushed to the very edge of my entire being. I ran longer than just about everyone else that ran the race, and there were many people who did not finish or quit. I still kept going despite every fiber in my body telling me to stop. Somehow my body kept moving even when I felt like I couldn't physically move it any more. I am amazed at what my body did. I have a new appreciation for it. I am forever changed by the experience and from all the small failures I may have experienced, I have learned more about myself and my running ability than ever before.
I would like to share some of these lessons and thoughts in another post. I wanted this to be an honest recap of what the race was like, but there is so much more that I have felt and experienced that needs to be shared. So hang on to your hats for another post coming soon!
I listened to a podcast a few months ago that talked about failure. How we often are afraid to do things where failure is a real possibility. Often times in training, we select plans or goals that are challenging enough that we feel pushed, but where we can finish feeling satisfied that we accomplished what we set out to do. We rarely select races or goals where we could fail, and as a result, we never learn to be better. Failure is not bad. Failure is not the end of the world. When we do fail, we learn how to be better. We learn that it is ok to fail, but then we pick ourselves up and try again.
I knew signing up for a 50k raised the real risk of actual failure. I felt this more than any other race I had signed up for. Contrary to my fear of failure, I did believe in myself and my ability. I didn't just want to finish - I felt that I truly could. While I have been struggling the past few days with feeling like a failure because I did not accomplish what I hoped, I also learned a tremendous amount and am proud of the fact that I saw this goal through, regardless of how challenging it was.
Race Morning
I woke up at 4:30 a.m. after a fairly restless night of sleep. Thankfully I slept plenty Thursday night and my adrenaline helped to get me moving. I ate a first breakfast around 4:45 and was out the door at 5:30 to attend the packet pick up before the race. Much as I learned with the Chicago marathon, I knew I needed to eat again prior to the race. I was able to get another meal in during the car ride, and made it to the pickup to get my race bib and swag. As I walked up to the pavilion next to another man, one of the volunteers asked our race distances. I felt like a badass saying "50k", especially when the runner next to me was doing the 15 mile race. After receiving my swag and bib, I sat in the car with my husband for almost an hour before heading to the start/finish to await the pre-race announcements. It was a long wait and I started to feel excited and nervous. While waiting for the announcements, I was able to meet another Oiselle teammate which helped settled some of my nerves. After brief announcements and a very informal start, we were off!
The Race
The course consisted of 6, 5 mile-ish loops that in total would equal the 31 mile distance. It began from the pavilion where packet pick-up started, down a grass hill, across a bridge, and then up an incline that led into the woods. Most of the trail was single track, with varying gravel, pine needles, and dirt terrain. The trail alternated between ascents and descents, with very little flat terrain running. At one point the trail crosses a stream where runners would pass each other coming up or down a steep, narrow hill. Below is a picture of the entire race, with each one of the "peaks" being about a 5 mile loop.
 |
| Entire race distance in terms of terrain |
The first loop was very slow and packed full of runners. As all distances (50k, 15 mile, 5 mile) started at the same time on a single track trail, it was very bottle-necked at times. I settled in with a group of people who had done the course before as well as several other 50k's, and it was nice to chat and keep my mind off of what lay before me. I did not wear headphones the first loop so that I could let others pass me if needed and because I wanted to pay attention to the course. I could tell right away that the course was more challenging than I expected. There were several "hills" that were extremely steep that made it impossible to run up. I stayed with my strategy of walking the uphills, which just about everyone was doing anyways. For a while I was leading a "congo line" of people which made me more conscious of how I was running and was looking behind me a lot to make sure no one wanted to pass me. My watch was showing a slower pace than I felt I was running, but it had to do with the terrain. I told myself that I needed to run by effort because it was a different experience than I was used to, and to leave the idea of pace alone. I really had to pay attention to my footing as the roots and gravel made it hard to keep balance coming down some of the steep downhills. When I was about 4 miles in, I tripped and fell, which completely threw me off. I was a little shaken and by the time I got to the start/finish and saw my husband, my nerves were rattled. I blew on through the aid station and onto the next loop.
 |
| Coming in from the first loop |
Loop 2
I was still with some of the runners I was with for the first loop, so I settled in to the run more familiar with what the course now looked like. This time I ran behind the group of people I was with so that I was no longer having to lead the pack. This allowed me to run more of "my race" which meant at times I was a little further behind them and other times I caught up to them. Unfortunately I fell again at one point, much worse than the first time, and I instantly felt panicked. I tried to control my breathing and told myself to just let it go and shake it off, that I was fine, but falling a second time really shook my confidence. The Oiselle teammate passed me around mile 8 and I knew that I was not running as well as I wanted. I think this is where my mood darkened, and by the time I ran into the start/finish again, I was yelling at my husband that it was really difficult and I was struggling. I didn't stop but let him know that the next loop is when I would need him to take out my rice bar from the cooler and I was already looking forward to it.
 |
| Loop 2 |
This was probably the hardest loop of the day. This is when I realized that I was likely not going to make the 8 hour cutoff. Based upon the fact that I was now half way and my watch indicated that I would finish after 8 hours, I started to feel defeated. I started to employ a lot of my mental strategies to keep me focused and positive. I tried to turn negative thoughts into positive ones. I focused on some of the beautiful scenery around me, but then I fell. Bad. I slipped on loose gravel and cut my knee open. At that point I ran the rest of the loop fighting tears. I came into the start/finish where my husband was waiting, and as I started to eat my rice bar, I began to cry. I am sure to the onlookers, the scene was hilarious. Here I was, crying, as I was eating a rice bar. I knew in the back of my mind that I just needed to cry, eat, and get on with it. My husband was trying to reassure me that I could still do this, even though I dont think he really understood that I knew I was not going to make it within 8 hours. Physically it was almost impossible. I wanted to give up so bad, especially knowing that I had to do what I just did, 3 more times. Somehow I sucked it up, refilled my water and Nuun, and headed out for a 4th loop.
 |
| Loop 3 |
Loop 4
This loop was pretty dark for me. Physically I felt better after eating something more substantial, but the repetition of the course was starting to get to me. I would dread the parts that had steep climbs, knowing they were becoming more and more difficult, and I could feel the time slipping away. I fell again at some point, and another runner helped me up and told me he had fallen and twisted his ankle. I watched as he was somehow able to keep running while I was still shaken up. I was passed again by my Oiselle teammate, who by the way was the first woman finisher! I appreciated her positive words as we walked uphill together. She was truly inspiring to watch. About 3 miles in, I was passed by the girls I had been running with during the first 2 loops. The one girl asked how I was doing and I told her I was struggling and concerned with finishing. She told me that even if I didn't finish in the 8 hour time, I was still running the distance. During one of the last miles another runner passed me and he told me that I was looking good and that he struggled during his first 50k, and I realized how defeated I must be sounding to some of these people. I felt somewhat better after this interaction and finished the loop. When I came into the start/finish I did not see my husband, but then remembered that he was going to try to find me further on the course. One of the race organizers happened to fill my water and he told me I was looking good and to keep at it. I headed out for the 5th loop, hoping to see my husband.
 |
| Loop 4 |
The relief that I felt when I saw my husband was huge. I slowed to a walk and he walked up to the top of a hill with me, trying to reassure me that I was going to be fine. I told him that I wasn't sure if they would let me finish, knowing that I was going to be over the 8 hour cutoff, but he told me to keep moving. Another girl behind me asked if I wanted a running buddy, and we quickly got to chatting and running with each other. She told me that often times they will let you finish the race if you can get to the final loop before the cutoff. In my mind I knew I now had a new goal, and once I realized that my buddy was going slower than I wanted, I had to leave her behind. I really appreciated her taking my mind off of the race for a while, and after I left her I had a renewed sense of purpose. This loop was a better loop for me. While there were fewer and fewer people on the course, I was able to keep moving and would often never see another runner for minutes at a time. I fell again at some point, and another runner told me to stay there while he helped me up. The kindness that he showed helped get me moving again and I finished the loop with just over an hour to spare. I headed to my husband with tears in my eyes because I knew it would not be physically possible for me to finish within the 8 hour cutoff. The same race organizer who filled my water the previous loop told me to get back out there and that I could do it. He kept asking what food or hydration I needed, and I felt like I had a lot of people pushing me to get out there for the final loop.
 |
| Loop 5 |
The final loop. At this point I saw almost no other runners and ran this by myself. Many of the volunteers had left their posts and there were no more water stations open. I kept looking at my watch and that helped push me to run when I wanted to walk. For a while I thought maybe I could still make it. I knew this was a long shot, but it was enough to get me moving when all I wanted to do was stop. The hills that had seemed hard in the beginning were almost impossible to walk up. It took all my strength to climb some of the steepest inclines, and running down the rocky downhills became a dangerous mess that I was taking slower and slower as time went on. I had just over a mile and a half to go when my watch hit 8 hours. I started crying, alone in the woods. I felt like I had failed everyone. Everyone that had supported me, believed in me, and all I could think of was the idea I had of coming home and feeling proud of what I did, and how that now turned into a failure. How I wouldn't have a medal to show off. How I couldn't say I was a finisher. I had no idea if anyone was even left to watch me finish other than my husband. I kept running, but my pace had slowed significantly. With just over a half mile to go, there were two guys out running for fun and asked me how the race was going. I explained that it was basically over and that I was finishing but that it might not count. The guy turned to me and said, "do you know how many races I have dropped out of? You are still finishing". It was exactly what I needed to hear. I shuffled my way out of the woods, onto the grassy area, and started towards the finish. I didn't know what I would see, but I heard clapping, and as I started down the hill, I could see all of the race organizers and volunteers standing and clapping for me. I was so overwhelmed. I crossed the line and could hardly feel happy. Everyone was telling me "congrats" and that I had done it, but all I could say was, "but it doesn't count"! Then one of the volunteers told me, "do you see the clock? It is still going. It absolutely counts. Go get your medal"! I headed to the table with all of the unique, hand painted blocks of wood and could barely focus on what I was seeing to pick one out. Then I heard cheering and saw that the girl I had run with during loop 4 was coming in to the finish line. I stopped and joined the clapping, and watched as she, the last runner, finished. Her and I had done it.
 |
| One of the most powerful moments of my life |
Post Race
I was a mess post-race. I congratulated my running buddy, but alternated between crying and feeling happy. My husband hugged me at one point, and I just started sobbing. I think I was so relieved that it was over. I had posted before about not caring if I was the last person to finish, and I literally was one of the last people to finish. Somehow I still couldn't shake the feeling of failing. It was not the race or experience I wanted. It had turned into my personal hell. I headed home where even sitting in the car was uncomfortable. The finishing of an ultra is beyond the pain that is felt after a road marathon. I could barely walk after getting out of the car, and taking a shower was pure torture as I had to wash out the cuts on my knees.
 |
| ouch! |
I still feel like this today. While I struggle with my overall performance, I am proud of what I did. I did not give up, despite falling, being challenged and pushed to the very edge of my entire being. I ran longer than just about everyone else that ran the race, and there were many people who did not finish or quit. I still kept going despite every fiber in my body telling me to stop. Somehow my body kept moving even when I felt like I couldn't physically move it any more. I am amazed at what my body did. I have a new appreciation for it. I am forever changed by the experience and from all the small failures I may have experienced, I have learned more about myself and my running ability than ever before.
I would like to share some of these lessons and thoughts in another post. I wanted this to be an honest recap of what the race was like, but there is so much more that I have felt and experienced that needs to be shared. So hang on to your hats for another post coming soon!
 |
| Ultramarathoner! |
Heather,
ReplyDeleteAfter reading this post, I too, am in tears. How could you EVER classify yourself as a failure?! Your soul and spirit are amazing! From the overstated, flamboyant girl I first met years ago- to the fine, fierce lady that you've become is truly, a positive path of dedication/faith/life. You consistently set goals ahead of you, train (both mentally and physically), prepare,focus and achieve! The blessings bestowed to you as you mature should be valued as no other... I am truly proud and humbled to witness such elevation of character, body and mind. Love you, tons! Suzy Tragos