The Big 50 50k, Pine Mountain, Georgia

The microwave burned the bacon.

That’s how the day began, which is unfortunate for someone who really likes bacon and is heading to the forest in about an hour to cover 30-some miles. I couldn’t try again with another package of bacon because if I’d opened the microwave door I would have set off the hotel smoke alarms. At 5:45 a.m. I was left with a cinnamon crumble muffin from Winn Dixie and a Diet Coke. It would have to do.

I had about a 35-minute drive from the hotel to FDR State Park. I parked and made my way over to a pavilion to pick up my shirt and get my bib, #16 in red Sharpie. I love small races.

After a brief recap of how to read the pink tape on the course, we were off in waves of 10, spread out every 5 minutes. I was in wave two. There may have been 2 dozen, maybe 3 dozen runners for the 50k? This race was the final long run of the training cycle for my first 50-miler, so I told myself to take it easy, stop to take pictures, and walk whenever I wanted to. I was not racing today. I was training. It was 48 degrees and the forecast called for a glorious blue sky and a sunny fall day.

The first few miles were pretty familiar terrain: dirt, lots of roots and some scattered rock. It didn’t take too long for that to change.

With each mile, the amount of rock to navigate increased. Ultrarunning Magazine describes the course as “Trail or dirt road with substantial rocks, roots and/or ruts.” Substantial is a good word for it.

My favorite part was just after the first aid station, right about 5 miles in. You’re tooling along through the woods and suddenly pop out to a beautiful view from the top of the ridge. I forgot to bring my GoPro (again!) so I just used my iPhone. I could not at all focus on video quality while trying to move forward simultaneously. I decided I wanted to stay ON the mountain instead of falling off of it.

From there, you get to navigate the top edge of the ridge for quite awhile before diving back down the side. Although the foliage hadn’t really changed colors here, there were still pretty purple and yellow flowers and velvety mosses scattered throughout.

I was feeling pretty good through about mile 12 or so. I was trotting along at a fairly slow but steady pace, a little hungry from the lack of breakfast, and thinking about how I was happy that I hadn’t toed any roots or rocks yet. Quite literally, 2-3 seconds later, I slammed my right foot on a rock. And here we go…

From that point on, I started kicking stuff left and right, even if I was just walking. You couldn’t take your eyes off the ground for a second or you’d slam a foot into something. I thought maybe the Clif Bloks weren't doing enough, and that maybe I was just mentally foggy from a lack of energy. At the aid station at mile 17, I enjoyed two glorious, warm and gooey, American cheese quesadillas. I’ve never had real food on a race before, aside from a chip or two. I worried that the choice would come back, or back up, to haunt me. It did not, and the boost of energy got me going again for a few miles before, you guessed it, I kicked some more stuff.

At one point, I again kicked a rock hard and stopped immediately, yelled some expletives to the universe, bent over and put my hands on my knees. My Garmin thought I was dying and the incident alarm went off. Yes, Garmin, I’ve had an incident. But I do not need 911, thank you.

By mile 22-23, my right foot was aching something fierce. At this point I felt sure that I had lifted the toenail, and couldn’t quite decide whether the moisture in my shoe was just sweat or blood. But, there’s nothing to do out in the woods on a mountain but keep going. No need to take off my shoe and risk not getting it back on, and there’s nothing I can do for a busted toe in my current location. At this point, my gait was off too, and I could feel a sweet little blister emerging on the back of my heel.

Aside from my poor right foot getting beat up, this race was pretty amazing. The course was tough, between the rocks and the climbing up and down the whole time, which is part of why I wanted to run it. My Garmin says my elevation gain was 5,361 ft., and loss was 5,269. Up, and down, over and over. The rocks, although tricky to get through for a flatlander from Florida, were still awesome. Another great feature of the race were the many small streams in between the ridges. The trails crossed quite a few of them, and for the most part you could tip-toe across rocks and avoid getting your feet wet. It was wonderfully quiet and the sound of flowing water was peaceful. It helped towards the end of the race when my foot was pretty angry with me.

My Garmin has my finish time at 9 hours 6 minutes. It’s slower than I’d hoped for, but considering trail conditions, my lack of skill on such technical terrain, and the misfortune of my foot, I think it’s pretty good. There were portions of the trail later in the race I thought I “could” run but chose not to because I couldn’t trust my feet. I was worried I’d slam it again and actually break something. I also didn’t want to risk a fall and ruin all my hard work for the 50-miler in a few weeks. So I walked. And I hiked. And I tried to play it smart, even if it was slow going.

I waited until I was back to the hotel parking lot to take off my shoes. I peeled off the sock from my right foot slowly, as if something dangerous was going to leap out of the sock and bite me. I was pleased to see that my foot was not covered in blood, although it appeared as though there may have been some spots on the toe of the sock at one time but had dissolved in the sweat of the day. My toenail was intact, but only by the grace of the gel nail polish that was holding the ripped pieces together. It’s a bit lumpy, too. We’ll just have to see how it plays out over the next few days.

This race had so many of my favorite things, I would love to go back for a rematch. The race was small, the aid stations were great, the course was challenging but beautiful, and the weather (this year, anyway) was perfect. Getting through this one gives me confidence that I’ll be able to handle the longer mileage on easier terrain when I try the 50-mile distance. No doubt, that race will be tough. But, the Big 50 50k experience added to the bank of mental toughness I’ll need to make it through.