DIY 50-Miler — Running the Middle

Sometimes, well, lots of times, things don’t go the way you planned. But since humans are so adaptable, we’re pretty good at improvising when your plans go out the window.

Last spring, I’d planned to run my first 50-miler, the Cayuga Trails 50, in Ithaca, NY. That race was going to be a tall order of a race for me. I seem to have become one of those runners that pushes the edge of what I think I’m capable of and sign up for races that ensure a real challenge. I was in a training cycle for that race when that pesky COVID bug halted pretty much everything. Feeling discouraged and a little bit lost, my training went by the wayside for awhile. Eventually I got myself together and set my sights on a different 50 for November in the hopes that by then, the race would hold. It did not. This time, I wasn’t going to throw away all the hard work I’d put in. It’s tough enough to balance this many training miles with the rest of my life. A full-time job, a couple teenagers at home (one of which with travel soccer), a household, a dog, and time with family and friends that doesn’t involve running…it’s hard to do “all the things”. I was going to run 50 miles on the day I’d planned, one way or another.

While the replacement race in November was in limbo about whether it would hold, I started working on a plan for myself. After tossing around a number of possibilities, I settled on running some familiar trails in Thonotosassa, FL, utilizing a combination of Wilderness Park, Trout Creek, and Flatwoods Park. I decided to use some past routes from my Garmin that I knew would get me the mileage I needed. The added benefit would be that if I was fatigued later in the day and all by myself, I might not get lost in the woods. Bonus.

There would be three loops of the main trail, with a few side trails, and a final out and back for whatever mileage was left at the end: 15.75, 13.8, 13.6, and 6.85. By having the out and back on the end, it would be easier to ensure I had the full 50 miles if somewhere along the line I changed my route. I hoped to get the 50 miles done in 12 hours or less. With some sage advice from the Mayor of Flatwoods, my wise trail friend that knows the place six ways to Sunday, I would start in the dark at 5:30 a.m. in order to hopefully be done before sunset. My truck served as my aid station that I would get to pass three times. In addition, there would be a stop on the paved loop of Flatwoods where I could refill water if needed. Although I was going to put my plan ‘out there’ in case anyone wanted to join me for a loop or two, I planned as if I would be 100% solo.

Fortunately, I did not have any burned bacon for the morning of the run. Unfortunately, I ate only one slice and half a corn muffin. This would come back later to haunt me.

Lucky me, the Mayor and another trail friend decided to join me on the first loop. I’d never run trails in the dark, so I was happy to have an experienced guide. Since the trails were so familiar and our three headlamps were plenty bright, the running was less intimidating than I thought it might be. At about three miles in, we heard a ruckus up ahead. At first it was hard to tell whether it was something in the standing water (Tropical Storm Eta had just been through) or in the palmettos. Our final collective conclusion was a small group of pigs had been on the trail and were running off and away from the smelly humans with the lights. We proceeded through the ankle-deep water and continued on our way.

By mile 4 or 5, the sun was up enough for use to lose the light of the headlamps. The rest of that first loop carried on in the usual way our weekend trail runs do. We were a little behind my target pace/time, but that was okay. Those were just targets, the “unicorn goal” as they say. The targets that, if the planets align and everything in the universe could be perfect, that’s what could be possible. Today wasn’t going to be that kind of day.

The Mayor and I began loop two just the two of us. After fueling up at the truck, we set off after just under 16 miles. At about 17-18 miles, I noticed some tightness and numb pain in my hips. This is unusual for me, even on a regular weekend run of 18, 20, or more on trails. Doubt was knocking on the door. What had I done wrong in the last few weeks during taper? Did I not put in enough miles over the training cycle? Did I have my last peak week too soon, was the taper too long? As I am learning, this is the part of running long distances that is the hardest. It’s easy to get ahead of yourself mentally. If your mind checks out, you’ll be done.

We made it through loop two and back to the truck. By now, I was an hour behind my target schedule. Too much more behind and we’d be finishing in the dark. I was prepared for that but was hoping for a finish in the light. The Mayor bid me adieu and a brand new trail friend, one that I’d never met, stepped in to run with me for the last loop and the out and back. I say ‘run’ quite loosely, since the pace was getting awfully slow. I’m pretty sure that at his height, this guy could walk as fast as I was kinda sorta running. With the standing water left from the tropical storm, my feet had been soggy and wet the whole day. Some areas of the trail were ankle deep, one was knee-deep, and quite a few other trail sections were shallow mud puddles. I decided to change my shoes before loop three began in an effort to at least ditch the mud that had collected in my socks.

After mile 33, I was in new territory. I tried to convince myself that if I could just get to mile 40, then I’d have single digits left, and that meant I could finish it. The miles ticked by slowly. But, with each landmark passed, each familiar tree, the water stop on the paved loop, the turn here and the turn there, I thought…I will not be back by here today. I am closer to the end with each step. My hips had become more angry with me at the end of loop two, but by now they were just kind of achingly numb. My lack of breakfast was taking its toll as well. While I had done a decent job in the hydration department, I could feel my energy level slowly dropping. I’d had a slice of bread with cheese at each truck aid-station stop, and Clif Bloks and sliced oranges along the way, but it wasn’t enough. This is a skill I still need to work on, for sure.

We made it back to the truck after loop three. Now was not the time to dilly-dally. If I was going to get done before the daylight was gone, I needed to get moving. I’d added a mile to loop three in an effort to shorten the out and back. By doing so, we could avoid having to go through the standing water section that we encountered earlier at mile three. Now, the out and back needed to be a total of 5.4 miles. So, 2.7 miles and I get to turn around. At 47.3 miles, I get to turn around. When I turn around, 2.7 miles and I’m done.

Interestingly enough, those last miles were at about the same average pace as the loop before. Perhaps it was the motivation to finish that kept me from going any slower. My running partner was kind enough to take some pictures. While it took a bit of energy and determination to bring up a smile, I appreciated his effort to document my experience. His kind, quiet presence during our loops was helpful.

With a half mile left, I told my my new trail friend to go on up ahead. I wanted to finish that last half mile on my own. Maybe I just needed a moment to contemplate the accomplishment, maybe I just wanted to be able to say that I did some part of this completely on my own, maybe I just needed a minute to... I’m not really sure. Just before I exited the woods my Garmin beeped to signal the 50-mile mark. I hit stop and save and felt a small wave of satisfied relief. I did it. Then, I heard a familiar bark. That meant my family was there and had brought our dog, Willie, along. I think I picked up my pace a bit knowing that familiar faces were waiting.

When I left the trail, my husband, the dog, my daughter, my two neighbor-friends, and my trail friend were waiting. Where was my son? He had decided to go down the trail to meet me. I instantly thought back to my first road marathon where my son ran alongside me for the last two miles to the finish. The picture of us at the finish still tugs at my heart.

Turns out that my son took the entrance trail and not the exit. My trail friend went back to fetch him, which was a good thing because the sun had set and daylight was fading fast.

We only stayed a few minutes before packing up to head home. I ditched the shoes, grabbed a drink and a snack, and fed the dog my last piece of cheese. The mosquitoes were coming out and the parking lot would be closed for the night. Just as I was getting ready to back out to leave, the Mayor showed up to congratulate me. After a few words and a high-five, we were all on our way.

Looking back, I wish for a few things. First, I do wish I’d taken more pictures. And not just of the scenery, but the people who ran with me, and those who were there at the end to show their love and support for this crazy habit I have. Two, I wish that I’d done a better job of fueling. While I think I did an adequate job, I also think that I could have performed better had I forced myself to eat just a little more throughout. Last, and I’ve said this before, I need to be more consistent at doing a little more in the world of ‘other’ activities. This run, likely because of its length, certainly exposed muscle weaknesses I should address.

In the end, I feel satisfied at my training and performance efforts for this distance. Reflecting on what worked and what didn’t is all part of the process. I also know that my journey is uniquely mine. My running journey includes not just what I can do when I run, but all the other parts of my life that fit into the big picture. It includes all the variables that make me who I am, my body, my age, my training time, my daily life, my relationships, my experience, my history, my attitude, my mindset… all of the little pieces that make me whole.

This week will be a rest stop on the journey. A few days to take a short break, relax and recover a bit. Because it won’t take too long before I have an answer to the question my neighbor-friend asked me just a few minutes after I finished that 50-miler: “What’s next?”