Quest For The Crest 50k (2023)

It was 4:28 am when I parked my truck in a grassy field—2 minutes before the shuttle busses were set to take us from the finish to where the race would start. I took a few more gulps of my coffee, locked my vehicle, and hurried down the gravel path to where everyone was congregating.

Before long, our buses were in motion, and shortly after that, we were all gathered at the starting point of the 2023 Quest for the Crest 50k. Within minutes, the race had begun, and we immediately found ourselves going up a semi-steep gravel road. After about a mile of gravel road, we funneled into the first trailhead, and things only got steeper from there.

I chose to run Quest for the Crest because I’ve heard such great things like, “This is the hardest 50k in the country”, and “This is hands down, mile-for-mile, the hardest race I’ve ever done.” I’ve also heard, “The views are amazing. This is the most scenic race on the east coast.” All of these legends and stories intrigued me, so I wanted to see for myself.

At around 2.5 miles into the race, we were quite literally grabbing and clawing for roots, tree branches, and whatever else we could hold onto as the grade continued to increase and the mountain got more difficult to climb. Every few minutes, I would look over my shoulder, and I could tell we would soon be greeted by a spectacular sunrise.

We climbed above the clouds and continued even higher, eventually reaching the summit around 3.5 miles in. From here, the sun began to peak over the horizon; sure enough, it was an epic view. Many of us stopped momentarily to soak in the beauty, but not for too long—the day was just starting.

After reaching the first summit, it was a few minutes of ridge running with fantastic views of the mountains below, but this quickly turned into downhill double-track running. We ran mostly downhill for roughly 4 miles until we reached the first aid station (Bolen’s Creek). I grabbed a bacon, potato, and cheese quesadilla from a volunteer, and let me tell you, it hit the spot!

After you leave Bolen’s Creek, you head right back up the mountain you just ran down, and I was moving pretty well without too much effort on this uphill. I saw many friends and familiar faces making their way down to Bolen’s as I was coming up, which boosted my positivity and happiness. I also started passing a lot of other runners on the uphill, which continued to raise my spirits.

Around mile 10, I finally got to use my water filter, as I took a minute to fill all of my water bottles with water from springs and creeks. This was my first time in a race, and it felt like a minor initiation. Pretty cool. I continued to climb, and soon the forest transitioned into terrain and landscape that could easily be confused with a scene from The Lord of the Rings. It was majestically beautiful and torturously challenging. I’m pretty sure I took my first fall somewhere in this segment.

Around mile 15, my stomach became unsettled, and I had a tough time finding any comfort on the downhill I found myself on. We came through the next aid station, Colbert’s Creek Rd and I found it difficult to find anything appetizing. I grabbed a few boiled potatoes and some fruit and began going up this short section of road. I found myself walking with a group of other runners, and we all started chatting about our experience thus far and how we were all feeling. It seemed like we were all taken aback by the sheer difficulty of the course, but we were mostly loving it. The conversation helped take my mind off of my stomach issues for a bit, but only for a bit. It was at mile 19 that I decided something needed to happen—I needed to poop in the woods. I find it both interesting and funny that it’s taken me well over 4 years of running ultras to be forced to poop in the woods, but this was a first for me. Another initiation, perhaps.

After my quick bio break, I felt so much better. 30%, I would argue. And for the next 3 miles, I was moving fast. That was until we began our summit of Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Mississippi and the highest point of the race. It’s about a 6-mile climb to the summit of Mitchell, and it is anything but easy. We climbed boulders, pulled ourselves up with ropes, and stopped to catch whatever breath we could muster (or at least I did). A few runners were passing me at this point, but I didn’t care too much; I was just happy to be there, experiencing what I was fully immersed in. It was an experience hard to describe.

I shared some words with fellow runners, and we even helped push each other to make it to the next aid station. That’s one of the amazing things about the ultra community—we’re all chasing individual goals, but we’re all in it together.

I reached the aid station at the top of Mount Mitchell (but just below the summit), and I scarfed down another cheese quesadilla and two cups of coke. Delicious would be an understatement. I started getting cold, so I quickly gathered myself and began making my way up to the true summit. As I approached the summit, a group of tourists asked how far along we were, to which I replied, “About 27 miles or so.” “Oh my god! That’s insane. And look, he’s still smiling!” one of them said. And I realized they we talking about me. For me, this was a very significant moment in my growth as an ultrarunner and a person. I was smiling, and it wasn’t forced; it was organic. I felt tears well up in my eyes, a combination of the exertion and the acknowledgment of my evolution and/or healing.

I reached the summit and was rewarded with a view of…nothing. We couldn’t see anything due to the cloud cover and low visibility! Oh well, the view wasn’t necessary. A good reminder: it’s not about the outcome but the journey.

From the summit, it’s another 6 miles of downhill running, which feels like forever. Really. I ran it as hard as I could and felt every step of it.

Finally, I emerged from the trail and back into the campground where the finish was stationed, but it was a false send of hope because shortly after emerging from the trail, you are forced back onto one final trail—200 ft and 1.5 miles—until you finally make your way through the finish.

I finished in 10:12, 29th out of 220 runners that started, and I was very happy with my result. I came into this race without much focus on performance, mostly just wanting to be present, enjoy the adventure, and not hurt myself on my way to training for the 2023 Old Dominion 100. I can confidently say that I succeeded and maybe even exceeded my expectations. And I can surely say that the Quest for the Crest lives up to its legend and hype. Mile-for-mile, this is the hardest race I’ve ever run, and I loved it!

Photo: @bbphotoadventures