amelia carolyn

Fifty miles? What was I thinking? Had I gone absolutely crazy? 

covering up my panic pretty well here

These thoughts permeated my brain as I lined up at the start. I was panicking. My stomach wasn’t feeling well. I was anxious. The night before I’d meticulously set out extra clothes and fuel for the day, yet I was second-guessing all of my choices. 

I looked at Bracken and asked him, “What am I doing?” He smiled, kissed me and sent me to the start, full of confidence and excitement for me that I was, at that moment, missing.

The weather forecast had been threatening rain all week. Up to half an inch was predicted at one point. I was thankful I’d run my last long training run (31 miles through the foothills of Boulder) in drizzle, fog and rain. Sitting in the Community Center the night before for the pre-race meeting, nervous energy was palpable. We were all, I think, expecting a day of running in a downpour.

ready to begin

However, Saturday morning, the sun rose behind heavy clouds. No rain yet. I dressed in tights, a long-sleeve shirt and light windstopper jacket. I filled my water bottles with gatorade, and loaded my waist pack with gels and shot bloks. We made it to the start with a little time to spare. My stomach was worrying me and I hoped the discomfort would settle down and relax. I had enough to think about.

I lined up, feeling nervous, but as ready as I could be. I wasn’t sure if my training had been enough, but I couldn’t do anything about it now. Now, it was mental. My body was going to do what it would.

and we're off!

And we were off! The course is a beautiful 25-mile loop through the mountains above Buena Vista, CO. The official website of the course claims about 4,700 vertical feet in gains and losses per loop. That’s 9,400 for us 50-milers.

finding my flow
The first hour was tough for me. Finally, a couple of miles past the first aid station, my stomach finally settled and I fell into a groove. My strategy was to run gently and walk any tough uphill sections. I didn’t want to blow my energy too early trying to run all the uphills. I was nervous about the cut-off times, but figured all I could do was my best. I needed to get to the turnaround within five hours and forty-five minutes. I had to finish the entire course in twelve hours. It was going to be tough.

After the first hour, I found my groove. The trail wound up through single track, ATV trails and jeep roads. During one particularly sandy section, I realized I was passing a lot of folks walking. I felt so grateful to have trained in a myriad of trail conditions… snow, slush, mud. The sand didn’t seem to phase me.

I began to think about the finish. I knew I’d be ecstatic to finish in twelve hours—that was my realistic, anticipated time. However, I found myself dreaming a little about what my “dream” goal would be. If I could have it my way, what time would be on the clock as I ran over the finish line?

10:53
Ten hours and fifty-three minutes. The number came to me and I thought to myself, “wow, that’d be pretty awesome.” Yet my pragmatic side reminded me that an 11:30 time would be just as amazing and far more realistic.

I continued to run. The miles and minutes disappearing beneath my feet. The hours seemed to fly by. There were times I would look at my watch and realize it was time to eat again and I’d have this feeling as though I’d just eaten, but it’d been an hour.

With only 300 runners competing in both the 25 and 50 combined, there was a lot of time for solitude and quiet musings.

beauty and solitude
My mind wanders as I run. A lot of times I think about my body and how it’s feeling. I make sure I’m paying attention to the orange ribbons marking the course so I don’t miss a turn. I watch out for rocks, roots and other hazards that might be on trail. I thought about why I was running. As I approached the aid station at mile 17.8, the highest point of the trail, I looked over and noticed the clouds had broken and saw the snow-capped peaks of Mt. Princeton and Mt. Yale. The view was simply stunning. I was reminded of why I run.

The last 7 miles of the 25-mile loop is predominantly downhill. As I descended, keeping in the back of my mind that I’d be ascending these same seven miles on the second loop, I felt strong. I ran with a friend for a bit and enjoyed chatting with her. We started seeing the frontrunners coming back from the turnaround.

As we approached the 25-mile mark, my watch was closing in on five hours. What? I was doing well. I was feeling strong and excited. I might just be able to do this! I thought about burgers and beer when I was done.

approaching the turnaround 5 hours in!

As I headed into the turnaround, I realized the weather was breaking and it was getting warm. Time for a costume change. The race rules dictated that the 50-milers could have a bag at the turnaround and someone to help them refuel, etc. 

Bracken was at the car waiting for me. He found my short-sleeve shirt and I quickly changed into capri-length tights, short-sleeve, put sunscreen on and found my sunglasses. I filled my water bottles with more gatorade (I wasn’t a fan of the melon-flavored Heed that was provided at the aid stations, so thankful I had enough of my own fluids), and was on my way. It’d taken longer than I’d hoped (about five minutes), but it was worth it to be dressed right for the final loop.

costume change at mile 25

heading back out

I slogged up the seven-mile ascent, feeling tired, but knowing once at the top, the toughest elevation gains were done. The altitude throughout the course fluctuated between 8,100 feet and 9,400 feet above sea level. I was feeling a little bit, but not as much as I’d feared. Overall, I was feeling pretty good.

My mantras over the miles: “One foot in front of the other.” “Relax.” “Run gently and allow gravity to do its job.”

the last bit
With 12 miles to go, 38 miles into the run, I hit a small wall. I was tired and I couldn’t bear to eat another gel or shot blok. The sweet aftertaste coated my teeth. It didn’t matter what flavor I chose, they all started tasting the same. Potato chips and m&m’s at the aid stations were a welcome diversion. The volunteers cheerful and helpful. I was grateful.

I remembered a Zone bar I’d stashed at the bottom of my pack and dug it out. I forced it down and kept moving. I was pretty psyched I’d passed a couple of runners, pulling them in like I was actually racing.

Five miles to go and I began to think I might finish under eleven hours. I was tired, but determined to give it my best shot. The last technical part of the trail was fun and I was heading into the final stretch of pavement to the finish. I didn’t know exactly how long I had left, so didn’t know how much I could push, but managed a steady pace ’til I saw the finish line. 

the finish line

I opened up my stride. A smile broke out on my face and tears sprang to my eyes. I looked down at my watch as I approached: 10:53. I would come in a few minutes past, but wow! I was so close to that “ideal” time I’d imagined a mere 10 hours before.

finishing strong

My final time was 10:55:21. Not too shabby for a first 50-mile run. 

receiving my finisher's medal

Will I do it again? Never say never!