Dont Should on Me

Race date: April 29, 2023

I think that to really capture how thrilled I am to have finished this race intact, you really have to understand the struggles during this training cycle. Back in December 2022, when things were going great, I wore a pair of heeled boots for Christmas Eve and they jacked up my Achilles tendon. I was out for weeks and then had to slowly crawl my way back with the help of my awesome PT and chiropractor. Then, I injured my back in March and that set me back again. My longest run during this training cycle was 22 miles – definitely not how I’d hoped things would go but my coach assured me I had the fitness to do it. Even though I think he was quietly freaking out that I was going to break myself.

Having never done this distance or race format before (62 miles, in 15.5 mi loops) I wasn’t quite sure what to expect so in my usual fashion, I WAY overpacked and prepared. There was a chance of rain too, so that made me bring even MORE stuff than I probably would have otherwise. Anyway, next time (yep, I just said that, hahaha) I’ll know better. Part of me also wanted to make sure my mom was taken care of because she was going to be my crew – there for however long it would take me to finish. Probably seeing me at my worst (and most disgusting, lol), dealing with me being very demanding for about 10-15 min every 4-6 hours or so as I came back through for each loop.

I had friends from Virginia who were coming down to run the race as a relay and one (Tara) who was going to also attempt the 100k. Tara and I have a special bond because she helped me finish my first 50k a few years ago. I hadn’t expected to have a buddy the whole race but when Tara learned her relay partner had to withdraw, she decided she’d try to hang with me and complete the 100k (YAY!). My NC friend, Jill, was going to come pace me for the last lap, the only time we were allowed to have a pacer.

Friday night before the race, my brother called me to give me the most up-to-date forecast. He works at a TV station not terribly far from the race venue, so he got the inside scoop from the meteorologist. He told me heavy rain was going to start rolling in around 2 am on Sunday and that I’d really want to try to be done before 4 am because it was going to get nasty. I kind of took it with a grain of salt because I don’t know about you but I don’t find weather forecasts to be particularly accurate — and I didn’t want to spend mental or emotional energy worrying about something I had little control over.

I usually don’t sleep well before races and Friday night was no exception. Race morning was cool, light fog, and damp. I was feeling ok though, probably riding high on that ignorance-is-bliss kite. I was a little nervous about course conditions since it rained quite a bit during the day Friday and into the night and there was a creek crossing that I was certain was going to be flooded. But the RD said he’d been there that morning and it was only ankle deep – win! We set out at a super chill pace and the first almost 7 miles of the course were mostly runnable. My approach to an ultra is to try to go nice and slow in the beginning and not overexert myself on any of the climbs (read: walk the hills, but try to move more quickly on the flats and downhills). The middle third of the course was the most scenic with multiple waterfalls and interesting flora. The back third of the course sucked, lol. There was a long, steep “rock scramble” (it was more of a free climb, it felt almost completely vertical) and so much steep incline after the scramble. Then there were several miles of newly cut trail that weren’t particularly scenic or gratifying. The trail was canted for a long time so it was really tough on the ankles. But we tried to make the most of each and every lap, constantly noticing new things, sometimes big things (like the rather large wooden bridge we crossed that Tara had no recollection of) and often times small things, and stopping for all the pictures.

The race course can be divided into three sections, approximate 4.5-5.5 miles per section, separated by unmanned hydration stations. Section one, as mentioned, was mostly runnable. Section two had some interesting elevation changes but gorgeous waterfalls. Section three had the climbs from Hell that got progressively worse as the race went on – at one point I distinctly remember asking how the eff the RD was able to drop in MORE incline during the race – ha. It was nice having the stops be about the same distance apart because it really helped each section of the race just pass on by. Mentally breaking the race down into much smaller chunks of achievable goals is a far more helpful strategy than trying to attack 100k at one time.

At this point, over a week out, all the laps are a blur but here are some highlights. And if you’re the video montage type, then check out my IG reel here.

For the first loop, I decided not to take my trekking poles and treat the loop as a reconnaissance mission. Trekking poles are helpful but they’re also really annoying sometimes. And in my Friday pep-talk, Jill reminded me that if the terrain got too terribly bad, I could always find some sticks/tree branches on the trail. Lap 1 was fine, everything was new and fresh and exciting and there were some surprise climbs that were pretty sucky, lol. All in all though, it wasn’t so bad! When I came into the aid (Start/Finish) after the first lap, I was surprised to see my brother there! We must have made great time on that lap because, despite texting my mom when we left the last hydration stop, we caught them by surprise when we got there and they hadn’t done anything to prep my pack (water bottles, etc) for the next loop, haha. We got it all figured out, I used the bathroom, ate some mashed potatoes from home, grabbed a pierogi and quesadilla from the aid station food table, and off we went for lap 2.

Lap 2 brought different light, the fog lifted, it got a bit warmer, and we started getting familiar with the race course. I can’t remember exactly when it was (either lap 2 or 3) that I inhaled a bug but that sent me into a coughing fit for over 2 miles trying to dislodge that bad boy from my left mainstem bronchus — for real, I could feel it in my left lung. Does anyone remember those old scary stories books from the 90’s? The ones where the spider lays eggs on someone’s face and they hatch? No? Just me? Well I had visions of this bug laying eggs in my lung – we got a good laugh (and cough) out of that for a while. When we were near the end of lap 2, I started assessing how I was feeling, trying to figure out what I’d need to do at the aid station and sort of mentally prepare for lap 3. I wasn’t feeling too bad at the end of lap 2, the 50k mark, 31 ish miles. And then when we made it to aid, my dad was there! I totally didn’t expect that! I gave him a big old sweaty hug and then quickly focused on changing bra, shirt, undies, and socks. I need to add here that my mom had set up a bomb diggity crew station – she had tons of food laid out, chairs set up, and encouraging signs for me. It was so great to have her there, even though she doesn’t understand WTF I’m doing and why, lol.

I picked up my trekking poles, just in case, grabbed another quesadilla and pierogi and we shuffled out to start lap 3. I was starting to feel it a bit in my legs but really not that bad! And none of my injuries were rearing their heads so I was thrilled. We entertained ourselves this lap by talking about our favorite places we’ve visited and Tara wowed me with her stories of skiing in Italy. I’m not gonna lie, some of the magic felt like it was fading but I tried to refocus on things I enjoy about being out there. I love seeing all the interesting textures nature has to offer, like the fiddlehead ferns poking their coiled heads out, the moss covered rocks and trees, the weird shaped fungal families growing on the tree stumps. And the frogs were starting to sing on the back third of the course – that sound brings me back to soccer practices when my boys were wee ones and always makes me smile. Nearing the end of lap 3 we were really starting to feel like this was getting old and the light was fading. But that didn’t stop me from stopping to take a picture of the tiniest little orange lizard-y critter you ever did see. I was also strategizing the last aid stop. We were making excellent time and wanted to change into dry clothes before heading out for the night loop. We decided we’d actually have a sit-down in the aid station and some quick math told us we could have 30 minutes if we wanted it. I texted my mom when we left the last hydration stop so she’d have a rough idea of when to expect us and I put in my order for some noodles with veggie broth, some coffee, and half of an impossible cheeseburger – ya’ll, part of the fun of ultras is all the food you get to eat!

Coming into aid after lap 3 and seeing Jill all bright-eyed and ready to go was refreshing because I certainly wasn’t feeling fresh by that point. I changed my bra and put on a fresh shirt and fresh socks and sat by the fire for a few minutes to scarf some noodles/broth then to make some adjustments to the nutrition I was carrying. As you can imagine, after hours and hours on end of stuffing food into your food hole, it actually gets old and you kinda don’t want to eat anymore. But you have to, so I chose some things I thought I could manage for these last 6 hours. That’s all we had left, one more lap, only one more time of everything we’d already done three times before. Each step we took on this last lap was going to be the LAST time we had to do that!

We took off on our last loop after about 25 minutes in the aid station. Now, that’s a long time but I’m not racing for a finish place or accolades, I’m doing this to push myself and see how tough I really am. My primary goal was to finish and I felt like, at this point, barring a catastrophic injury, I had this in the bag. But you never know, especially with 45 miles on your legs, treacherous terrain, and darkness settling in – no time to relax just yet. Jill wanted us to run but we were so tired we just couldn’t do it. Jill took the lead and I brought up the rear, power hiking as quickly as my tired legs would go. Jill and Tara were hiking so fast. I couldn’t keep up. My breathing was so fast and they kept getting farther and farther away from me. I reassured them I was fine and we kept on trucking. But really, in my head, I wasn’t that fine – I was starting to lose it. It’s bound to happen during these ultra events – your body hurts (even parts you aren’t using to run), you’re tired, hungry for real food, just generally miserable. THIS is where the race results will really be defined – inside your own head – your mind will quit before your body does. I was trying really hard not to admit it to myself, but I was sinking, and fast. Jill and Tara stopped again to let me catch up and Jill asked how I was doing. “Not good, I feel like I just can’t keep up. I feel like I’m about to cry”. And I was, not about anything in particular, it just started coming. Jill put me in front and told me to let it all out. And then in a few minutes, it was over and I was back! I mean, as ‘back’ as someone can be after 50 miles. My head was still above the proverbial water. The rest of the course was simply brutal. Every descent was exceptionally hard, made more difficult by the increasingly muddy conditions, darkness, and legs and feet that aren’t quite cooperating. Every climb was simply hateful and I responded accordingly, cursing, a LOT. I kept saying, out loud, “come on, leggies”, “this is fine, this is ok”, and “no more times”. It started to rain a little and we could see lightning in the distance. I REALLY didn’t want to be stuck on the rock scramble during the pouring rain and lightning so I kept pushing the pace as much as I could – running even when I very much didn’t want to – fear is an excellent motivator sometimes. Plus, it felt ‘good’ to switch up which muscles I was using (running vs walking). At this point, any amount of elevation was causing my breathing to sky rocket and I kept trying to keep it under control. And the nurse in me was trying to figure out the physiological explanation for it – but I couldn’t because higher order thinking at that point was NOT happening. Tara would take the lead on the steep climbs because she is SUCH a strong climber and I would basically just try not to fall and die, lol. I think I was moaning a LOT and I heard Jill behind me offer a shot of Fireball, said it would help. I was breathing so hard I couldn’t fathom it but finally decided, what the hell, ok. I tried to slow down my breathing enough to swallow but I only got a few drops in. Jill coaxed me to take the rest but I just couldn’t do it. I got about half of it down and felt like I was going to puke (the first time I’d been nauseous all race) so Tara finished it off. Even this late in the race, we were still slowly picking people off but I didn’t even care about that, I just wanted to be done, to take off the soggy clothes, take a warm shower, have some warm food, stop running, and lay down. When we got to the last half mile or so, a slightly inclined gravel road, Jill was pushing us hard to keep running. Like, she wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer, lol. So we ran, all the way across that finish line. And boy did that feel good to finish! My mom came over to congratulate me but I could barely hold myself upright. I managed to give her a hug and get my congratulations and belt buckle from the RD and then stumbled over to the food tent to find some pizza. We’d somehow convinced ourselves there was pizza at the finish and we were so excited to chow down. And then there was no pizza. I don’t think there ever was pizza, lol. So I collapsed in a nearby chair and attempted to eat some tater tots. Except my throat was so dry I nearly choked on them – and I forgot that I still had my pack on, with plenty of water in it, lol. Needless to say, I was a mess, and the finish photo my mom took showed it.

One of the major strategies that helped me get through such a long race: Distraction. Broadly, distraction comes in many forms. For me, it’s taking time to notice and enjoy the beauty and wonder of nature. This race was 4 x 15.5 mi loops and you’d think that would get boring seeing the same things over and over. Except, here’s the thing, I noticed something new each and every lap, even in the dark! Like, did you know that some lichen reflects light?! I mean, really looks like a road reflector! I tried to find proof on the inter webs but all I can find are SUPER nerdy and science-y articles but trust me, it reflected light. There was light fog when we started so it was fun to see how the scenery changed as the fog lifted. There were multiple water falls on the course and I found joy in each and every one of them on each and every lap. They had different structures, water patterns, mossy green rock walls, and even the clarity of the water in the streams/creek changed throughout the day. I started giving some sections of the course nicknames. There was the “Grandma section” – very steep, rocky, slippery footing where I found myself saying, “oh dear” a LOT trying to get down without slipping off the side of the hill. This kind of terrain gets increasingly more difficult as your legs and feet get tired. There was “Fat Roll Rock”, or “Jaba the Hut” – a large stacked rock formation with very rounded edges rather than jagged ones. There was the “Racetrack” – a random stretch of side by side 1×6’s with grip tape running along the boards lengthwise like a — you guessed it– racetrack. There was the “Field of Joy – where all your dreams come to die” — it is exactly as it sounds — just an open field. Thankfully it never got too hot or sunny when I was in the Field because nothing kills my morale faster than being stuck out in the open in the hot sun. There was the “Playground” – a little man-made bridge constructed out of the felled materials nearby and covered with the sawdust and mulch from the trail work that created a nice, soft, playground like surface. Too bad it was only a few steps long followed by a not-very-nice climb because it felt very nice on the feet. The not-so-fun back third of the course was made much more likable on lap 4 by the sweet, loud singing of frogs — and knowing that every step I took was the last one on that part of the course — I kept saying “no more times” just like a toddler.

If you’ve read this far, congratulations on finishing your ultrareading marathon! As I’m writing this, it’s been almost 5 days and I feel great! Truly! I ran a little bit yesterday and it felt good for my mind and body to get out there again. I know what you must be thinking too “Jenn, that sounds miserable, you’re done, right?” And most sane people would tell you emphatically, “yes, I’m done, no more”! And I can’t explain it, I know it makes no sense to purposefully PAY to suffer. But I wouldn’t want it any other way. I love trail running so much – it truly fills my cup. I’m not “good” at it, but I don’t care. It brings me pure joy and I will continue doing it as long as it continues to do so. I’m signed up for “just” a 50k in October and I want to spend a lot of time getting my body strong and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be ready to tackle some big things in 2024 and beyond!