Finger Lakes Fifties 50-miler

Finally, an account of my 50-mile race. I know it is long. So was the race.

Race morning, July 2, had finally arrived. As usual, The Hubbs and I left home about 10 minutes behind schedule, so I got to the registration tent to pick up my bib number and such with about 45 minutes before the start of the race. After making a trip to the bathroom and setting up our little camp, I began fussing with the ankle strap of my timing chip, which was clearly not designed for ankles as small as mine. I was debating back and forth about putting the chip on my shoelaces instead, eventually deciding against it since I would potentially be changing my shoes later on. Finally, necessity forced me to accept that I was just going to have to get over it and make due with the strap because I had only about 10 minutes left. As most runners were headed for the starting line a short walk away, I was still pinning my number to my shorts. Jeff and I managed to stay calm as we checked off that I had what I would need and finally headed out.

I got to the starting line with only about two minutes to spare, and most of that time was dedicated to getting my shoelaces tied just right and the ends tucked under. I swear, one of these days, I am going to actually miss the start of a race. Jeff was saying something, probably very sweet and supportive, but I have to admit I did not really hear what it was. My mind was focused on nothing else but the challenge ahead. I had trained hard to get to this day. My CamelBak was full of cold, fresh water. Two gels were tucked in the pack's zipper pouch, a small snack bag of Annie's cheddar bunnies was in one pocket of my shorts, and a small energy bar and a tube of Chapstick was in the other pocket. My timing chip was securely around my right ankle, and Body Glide was where it needed to be. I was as ready as I could be, and the only thing left to do was actually go through with it.

The race director was announcing instructions through a bullhorn, but with all the people around me talking, I could not hear a word. The chatter began to die down and I heard the race director say, "OK is everybody ready?!" She said a few more things as I stood ready to start. Then, at the clanging of a cow bell, we were off. The group included both 50K and 50-mile runners, so there were nearly 200 of us trotting down the dirt road a short distance before turning onto the trail leading into the woods. It became immediately apparent who was running the 50K, because half of the group broke away at a much faster pace. I tried not to pay attention to the crowd and focused on hanging back with the other 50-milers.

Once in the woods, the trail primarily allowed only single-file running, and it was during the first mile or so that I came to meet Ashley, another women running the 50-mile. A small group of us was silently running in a line when my left foot caught a tree root, and I started to trip forward. My right foot planted immediately to steady my balance, but it was not a firm landing so I started to then lunge forward to the left. Fortunately I managed to get good footing with my next step and with the help of some wild arm swinging I prevented a face plant. The woman ahead of me, having heard my scuffling, asked if I was OK. I assured her I was, laughed and commented that it was way too early for me to be tripping and falling. Ashley, just behind me, offered a little reassurance, which sparked a friendly running friendship for the remainder of the race.

At only age 25, Ashley was running her fourth 50-miler. Talk about an inspiration for a newbie like me! I had run the 50K distance before, but this was my first attempt at 50 miles, so it was a good boost of motivation. She was a great running buddy and we got through the first lap of the course comfortably in three hours and 20 minutes. It seemed to go by so fast. The race was definitely off to a good start.

At the main aid station/finish area, Jeff was the best crew a runner could ask for: filling my CamelBak with fresh water, rolling up a bandanna with ice for my neck and making sure I got fresh Glide and bug spray. I took time to eat some soup and a little bit of a sandwich, and change my socks before heading out for lap two. Ashley had left a few moments prior, and I was just hoping to catch back up to her for some good company. It was about four miles in that I finally saw her up ahead. At last!

We got into a comfortable pace together and soldiered through the miles, working our way from aid station to aid station. With so many miles still before us, taking three at a time was the best way to approach what lay ahead. We would arrive at an aid station, get what we needed quickly and be back on our way. We repeated this processes over and over until we were about 29 miles in, when we started to separate. Getting through the next four miles was my first real test of resolve, as I was pretty much alone the entire way. Only a few times did I see another runner in passing. The thought of finally picking up Jeff for the third lap was my primary focus of motivation.

With 33 miles down, I was once again at race headquarters. The Hubbs refilled everything I needed as I traded my mud-covered shoes for some fresh ones with a roomier toe box to better accommodate my hurting, swollen feet. The first- and second- place finishers in the 50-mile race were already done when I headed out (the winner actually lapped me between my 31st and 32nd miles), but I had to continue to soldier on. The second-place finisher offered some very kind words to boost my spirits, and we were off.

A side note about the winner. He came up on me silently, whisked by and went bounding forward like a graceful gazelle - a beautiful, light-footed creature moving strong yet delicately through the woods, with his footfalls on the soft pine needles barely audible. It was complete art in motion. I saw one last streak of his blue shirt as the trail ahead turned, and then he was gone.

Back to my slow self, and now with Jeff by my side now serving as my faithful pacer, it was like a new adventure. Everything I had experienced during the first 33 miles was now a bunch of stories to tell:
This is where I tweaked my right ankle. There is where I tweaked my left.
This is where I tripped and almost ate trail, and where I met Ashley.
This is where I met the guy with the flames on his shorts - the one who has run 75 ultras.
Up ahead is where the really friendly search-and-rescue people are stationed.
This is the stretch where Ashley and I were running with Tim. Man, were we moving along well!
This is right around where I tweaked my right ankle for the second time.
This is the aid station where the high school cross country team was volunteering; they were so enthusiastic!
This is the aid station where I was talking with a volunteer about body glitter.
Going up this hill is where I was talking to a guy named Hiroshi - he is running the Vermont 100 in two weeks - how awesome is that?
That is where I saw the cute horses that were rubbing each other's faces with their noses.

There are so many more details that filled the miles (far more than I can completely share here), but most notably talking with the AWESOME volunteers and feeling bad-ass that I was running a race that involved search-and-rescue teams. There was the triumph of remembering to go to the right at the end of the second long pasture crossing so I did not splash through a cow-crap filled water pit, and the challenge of having to crab-walk down a steep decent into a ravine because my legs were too tired after 43 miles to brace myself in an upright posture.

During the first lap, I had gotten into a regular schedule with refueling. At each aid station, I ate a handful of potato chips or pretzels, drank a cup of Heed (endurance energy drink) and took a Twizzler for the road. Between stations, I sipped from my CamelBak and nibbled a few cheddar bunnies. At the main station it was tomato soup and bites of a sandwich or peanut butter-filled crackers with some Gatorade. This continued until about mile 41, when at an aid station I reached for my regular Twizzler and the thought of it suddenly turned my stomach. I was feeling a little full, and I knew I had finally reached the point where my stomach had enough of processing solid food while my body was working. It was going to have to be Accel gels and water the rest of the way. While mentally planning my refueling for the remaining miles, I realized I had two more aid stations to go through on the course, and then it was on to the main station. About three miles apart, that meant only about nine miles to go. Which meant I had covered FORTY. ONE. MILES. On foot, practically continuously.

For the first time, I felt overwhelmed. I felt exhausted. My feet really hurt. So did my knees. My shoulders were tired from carrying my hydration pack all day. My face was covered with dried, crusty salt. The late afternoon sun was sinking in the sky, across from where it had risen early that morning when I started running. Tears welled a little in my eyes, and I took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm tired," I said to Jeff. His reply was simple and sensitive. "I know."

And then I just started walking onward, and after a dozen or so steps, back to my slow but steady running pace. The next three or four miles were probably the hardest as I tried to wrap my head around what I was doing, when I finally just gave up thinking about it. We reached the last outpost of search-and-rescue personnel at the top of a hill, where the young man and woman stationed there had finally put up an awning of sorts to get some shade cover. "How are you doing?" he asked, looking carefully at me to apparently gauge my mental state. I gave him a tired smile, and told him I was happy to see they finally put up their tent and were no longer baking in the sun. He laughed and offered me a cup of ice cold water, which I happily accepted.

With only about five miles to go, we headed out, and over the remainder of the course I surprised myself with how well I was moving, making constant steady progress to the finish. Jeff confessed that he, too, was a bit surprised with how well I was holding up. I cannot say for sure, but I think it has a lot to do with my determination to keep a positive and friendly attitude toward everything and everyone. At the final aid station on the course, I managed to get down an energy gel to fuel the final stretch. Ashley and her pacer, her friend Gretchen, arrived as Jeff  and I were heading out. I had not seen her since I had moved ahead nearly 18 miles earlier. I was so glad to see her making such good progress, and we happily proclaimed that finally, there was just one more aid station to run to: the one at the end.

The final miles were challenging mostly because of how many roots there were to step over on that part of the trail. I managed to get through them without a single trip, another surprise. Finally, we were running around the pond that was a mere quarter mile from the main aid station. Upon completing the third lap, I had to get through a final "baby loop" of a half-mile to get to a full 50, and as we entered the finish area, a volunteer announced "Runner coming!" and then the applause started. I saw the clock reading 11 hours, 44 minutes and 47 seconds. I asked Jeff if it was correct, and with his reassurance that it was, I only had one thought: Holy hell that's a long time. Then I took in all the volunteers, runners and spectators standing, smiling and clapping for me as I crossed the mat to officially finish my third lap of the course. That support was amazing.

With a half mile to go, I finally ditched the CamelBak, and all the pain and exhaustion faded away. My body found new fuel to power my legs, and that half mile felt like a simple trot around my yard. I came cruising into the finish area for the final time, and with a crowd of people cheering me I officially finished my first 50-mile trail race in 11 hours, 50 minutes and three seconds. Almost immediately, a volunteer was giving me my "medal": a metal beer bottle opener on a black lanyard. Moments later, Ashley crossed the finish line, and we shared a big celebratory hug.

Somehow - I am still not really sure how - I had made it through. It could not have happened without the dedicated support of all the wonderful volunteers, the friends I made along the way, and my awesome husband acting as my crew and pacer. Thank you to all for making this one of the best experiences of my life. I am already counting down for next year's race.