Promise Land 50K (2019)

The wind is kicking up, and people are retreating to their tents, settling in for what will be the last few hours of sleep before we all set off to complete the 2019 Promise Land 50K - my first ultramarathon.

I don’t sleep. I toss and turn as the flapping of my tent keeps my mind alert and my nerves high. Oh well, no sense in stressing about it.  

My alarm abruptly awakens me. 3:00 AM. I must have dozed off for 30-40 minutes. I’ll pretend it helped.

My wife Christa and I gather our necessities, I change, and we head to the picnic tables guided by our headlamps where runners are gathering for coffee and last night’s desserts. We partake, and suddenly the enormity and excitement of the task at hand hit me in the stomach and the heart. 

Time is moving fast. I take a few obligatory photos with Christa, kiss her, and I’m off to the starting line. A few words, and suddenly we’re off—5:30 AM, to be exact.  

The first 3.5 miles or so of the course is a steep gravel road that immediately forces you to consider your strategy for finishing your race. I chose to power-hike this section of the dark mountain after speaking with some veterans who elected to do the same. I started pushing harder, looking at my watch as some daylight crept through the trees - 1800 feet of climb already! Finally, the crowd began to open up a bit, and suddenly we turned a corner, hitting our first section of singletrack.

From here, I opted to pace comfortably and enjoy the views of mountain ridgelines in the distance and the developing sunrise. I’ve seen many sunrises in training, at the beach, etc., but there was something special and powerful about the glowing red sun that greeted us out there on that morning. I took it all in for a moment and then started to try and pick off a few of the runners up ahead.  

I was moving great, feeling awesome, and making friends. The second aid station was up ahead, roughly mile 10 or so, and I quickly replenished my flasks. I wasted no time worrying about whoever was ahead - just trying to stay on track with my “ideal” pace. I had something awesome to look forward to — my crew at Sunset Fields (aid station #3) and the first section of significant downhill.  

As I approached Sunset Fields (about 14 miles in), I could hear my wife and friends cheering my name in the distance. Whatever negativity that may have been subconsciously floating around in my head immediately evaporated. I gave them sweaty hugs, declined the headphones I asked them to bring, and quickly replenished. Encouragements, smiles, and I was off - but not before I busted ass running downhill out of the station in front of everyone.

Leaving Sunset Fields is one of the more brutal parts of the Promise Land. 3 or so miles of technical, rocky downhill that remind your quads that they are alive. I chose to see how hard I could run this - I love me some downhill singletrack - but this decision shed light on weakness in my training. My quads don’t dig ultras as much as my hamstrings.

The descent eventually flattened out at the next aid station (Cornelius Creek - mile 18), where I noticed that my little fall leaving Sunset Fields had scratched my right calf up pretty good. Blood and mud-covered my right leg. I told the volunteers at Cornelius Creek, “if you see Horton, let him know that I’m coming for the Best Blood award!”. “You can tell him; he's standing right in front of you,” shouted someone. And he was. David Horton (race director and legit ultrarunning legend) looked at my leg, gave a nod of approval, and asked, “were you safe or out?”.

The next 5 miles weren’t particularly difficult: gravel roads, rolling singletrack, and a little hill up to the next aid station. Here, I began to see the effects of the race taking its toll on some of the other runners. One runner dropped out of the race as I was rummaging through the different food/fluid options. I didn’t see anything enticing, so I ate a gel and drank some electrolytes. Back to it!

Within moments, I started feeling a little nauseous—nothing game-changing but a relatively new running-induced stimulus for me. I became very aware of it but tried not to make it more than was it was at the moment - just minor discomfort. As a coping strategy, I made conversation with the closest runners I could catch up to, and to my surprise, I saw some familiar faces from earlier in the race.  

We made our way back to Cornelius Creek (26 miles in) and stopped at the aid station once more. Exhaustion began to set in, and I felt some negative thoughts creeping into my brain. Everyone who runs this race knows that you are in for a world of hurt when you leave Cornelius Creek for the second time and make your way back UP to Sunset Fields. It’s about 3000 ft of vertical climb in about 3 miles, taking you around large boulders, numerous stairs, and the beauty of Apple Orchard Falls. I was in a weird place in my head at this stage. Although I was tired, in pain, and searching for inner grit, I was also at peace.

I was almost to the top of Sunset Fields (mile 29) when I heard my friend Jeff (crew) shouting and cheering me on from the peak. Just what I needed - some friendly encouragement from a familiar voice. I reached Sunset Fields for the second time, handled business, and was reminded that there were only 4 miles to the finish. My amazing crew informed me I was making great time and could reach my goal if I remained focused and on pace. Say no more.

I left Sunset Fields as fast as I could, but as the course started to descend quickly, I was reminded of how tired and beat up my quads were from the rocky downhills earlier in the race. Oh well, I couldn't rest them now, and there’s only one way to the finish - DOWN! I looked at my watch, and I was averaging sub-7-minute miles, but it wasn't sustainable. I slow down, but I’m getting passed by multiple runners. My brain started to rebel against me and told me I didn’t want to run anymore. I listened, and I began walking. 

There are only 2 miles left. My goal is slipping away.

“Get your shit together!” is the internal dialogue as I kicked my ass into gear and picked up the pace. Finally, I could see it—the finish!

I sprinted with whatever I had left in me and crossed the finish line as strongly as I could.

It was a hell of an experience, but one thing’s for sure — this is just the beginning.

Oh yeah, and I claimed the “Best Blood 2019” award.

 Official Garmin stats: Time = 6:50:20, Distance = 32.31 mi, Elevation Gain = 7,539 ft.