Mountain Masochist Trail Run (2019)

My alarm clock alerts me that it’s time to get up. 4:15 AM. “I can’t believe I actually slept through the night”, are my thoughts as I silence the noise. Reality starts to set in and the anxiety balls up into an uncomfortable knot in my stomach.

I can hear my friend Darin already in the kitchen of our Airbnb starting coffee and preparing some breakfast. I nudge my wife, Christa, and let her know it’s time to get up. Without any further conjuring, the final two members of my crew, Phil and Jeff, make their way down to the common area. We joke around for a few, gather up our things, and are in the frozen car on our way to the starting line in what feels like seconds.

We arrive at the start and navigate our way through a sea of buses, cars, and other runners. Everyone is gathering at the bottom of a hill by a pond or a lake, I can’t make it out. It’s dark, cold, and buzzing with obscure energy. I say my goodbyes to my crew (I’ll see them in 11 miles), find my place in the middle of the crowd, and after a few words and a countdown, the 2019 Mountain Masochist Trail Run begins!

My strategy is to stay at a very easy pace during the first 30 miles, practicing restraint and patience on the flats and downhills while giving the climbs the respect they deserve. I’ll try to keep my heart rate from spiking too much and will make sure to get some calories in at each and every aid station. If I can take care of myself through the first 30 miles and leave some gas in the tank, then maybe I could push hard in the final 20, give it everything I have left and surprise myself with my result.

Seemed like a great strategy. Sounded good.

The first 11 miles aren’t too difficult. We power-hiked a couple of climbs, ran on some gravel, and crossed a few frigid streams. However, I’m noticing that my hands are becoming immobile from the cold and I’ve already stopped to urinate twice. Minor inconveniences, but things to think about. I decided that I will hold off on any more caffeine until I truly need it, thinking this may curb the diuretic effect I was experiencing. I reach the Parkway Gate aid station at 11.4 miles and link up with my crew for the first time since the beginning. Everything is going well, I feel great and I’m out of there within a minute.

The next 7 miles are rolling hills with what turns out to be primarily downhill running. I start to get in a zone and before I know it, I’m putting up a couple 7:30 min/miles… probably a mistake, but damn they felt good.

I meet up with my crew again at the Reservoir aid station, 18.5 miles in. Still feeling great, happy to see some familiar faces, but fast approaching one of the more challenging sections of the course. I plan accordingly and get ready to hike. A lot.

At some point during this climb, I notice my shoelace has come undone and I realized that my frozen hands were not going to cooperate. After a few attempts to retie my laces, I decide that I’m getting passed by too many runners and I’ll just need to deal with the one shoe untied until I get to the next aid station.

My crew is waiting for me at the Long Mountain aid station (mile 23), which turns out to be true to name. I get my shoe tied and some calories in. After the brutal climb to Long Mountain, we runners then have to continue our way up to Buck Mountain, the biggest climb on the course. The temperature drops a bit and I’m starting to feel a little fatigued.

The plan was to catch my crew at The Loop (In) aid station, mile 30, but due to some technical difficulties and sketchy mountain roads, my crew had to reroute and make their way to our final access point. At The Loop I’m beginning to lose confidence, my hunger is increasing and my feet are feeling battered. This is a five-mile singletrack loop that brings you to the highest elevation on the course and forces you to traverse over some mildly technical and rocky terrain. I was not moving nearly as fast as I wanted to be, but if nothing else, I was sharing my suffering with a familiar runner (Adam) that I recognized from the Promise Land 50K earlier this year. Adam and I were both feeling less than optimal at this point, but I was happy to let him lead as it gave me something to chase and kept my mind off the pain. We exited the loop, I spent a few minutes at the aid station, and then I was on my way.

Next up is Salt Log Gap (mile 37.5), where my crew is anxiously awaiting my arrival. They’re apologizing for missing me at The Loop, explaining what happened but I’m just relieved that everything is alright. I’m sure they can sense that my energy is different here, as I’ve begun to unravel just a little bit in the time between now and our previous meeting. They make sure I have everything I need, wish me well and it’s “see ya at the finish!”

As I’m making my way out of Salt Log Gap and up Forest Valley, my mind is all over the place. I’m what some might call “emotionally raw”. I realize how close I am to reaching my goal of finishing and how lucky I am to have such a supportive group of friends all there to ensure my success. All that separates me between now and the finish line is just one more brutal half-marathon of mountain “running”. I stuff the pain down and continue onward with my relentless forward motion.

I reach Forest Valley (mile 42.5), and my stomach is growling. It’s becoming apparent now that I haven’t been consuming as many calories as I had planned to up to this point, so I make a decision to hang here for a few minutes while I fill my belly. The volunteers here remind us that we have 4 miles of shitty, uphill ridge running followed by a painful 4 miles of DOWNHILL gravel running to the finish. That’s it! I make my way out of here, and to my surprise, I see my race buddy Adam up ahead. I proceed to chase him at a comfortable pace, trying not to let him out of my sight. I’m constantly checking my watch, hoping to see the 46.5-mile alert in hopes that I will be greeted by the much anticipated downhill gravel road(s). After what feels like an eternity, the course begins to descend right around the 47-mile marker, and I begin to pick up my pace.

At this point, I’ve had my fun and I’ve been miserable for long enough to motivate me to push down on the gas pedal, accumulate my final damage, and get my ass to the finish line. I pass a few runners as I’m opening up on the downhill, pushing the pain into the back of my mind while letting out some primal growls. I felt savage. I pass a volunteer who says, “only a quarter-mile to the finish”. I let loose and begin running as fast as I can. I see Darin in the distance cheering me on and the rest of my crew beyond him. I see the finish line.

I did it.

I completed my first 50-mile mountain ultramarathon and it was everything I wanted it to be.

I learned a lot about myself out there. I rediscovered some weaknesses and made some progress, built upon a few strengths, and ultimately walked away from it feeling accomplished. I didn’t even come close to my original goal of 9 hours or better — finishing in 10:22:07. But at the end of the day, that didn’t matter.

I finished.

Official Garmin stats: Time = 10:22:07, Distance = 50.09 mi, Elevation Gain = 9,600 ft.