Race Recap: The Grand Island Trail 50k Edition

So, I decided that this race recap couldn't just be about the race.  For most races, I either drive to the race very early in the morning, or get there the night before and have a hotel booked for an overnight stay.  This time, I decided I wanted a full-on adventure.  We hadn't been on the motorcycle since we drove to New York via Canada to a friend's wedding in 2014, and we were itching for a trip, so I suggested Jason give the bike a little tune-up and we'd take that.  We'd be traveling from Gaylord to Munising, which is only about 200 miles each way, so I wasn't worried about any aches and pains from the ride on race day.  When we tried to find a hotel in the area, our options were very pricey, as I had only signed up for this race a week in advance and most of the cheaper places were booked.  So, I suggested we stay at the local campground.  In a tent.  Neither of us had camped since college, and I figured it was high time we gave it another go.  The only tricky part would be packing not only for a 50k trail race, but also camping, and getting it all to fit on the motorcycle.  Somehow, we managed to fit two pairs of running shoes, my hydration vest, bug spray, sunscreen, race fuel, four pairs of socks, four pairs of undies, four pairs of shorts, four shirts, two phone chargers, travel sized toiletries, an extention cord, two sleeping bags, a tent, a tarp, and two pillows all in the two saddle backs and one big travel pack on the back.  And yes, I am a magician.

We headed out after breakfast on Friday morning, leaving the kids with Nana and Grandpa at the cabin.  Our first order of business was crossing the Mackinaw Bridge, which connects Michigan's Lower and Upper Peninsulas.  Generally, the bridge doesn't bother me at all, but construction forced all of the traffic to travel on the inside lanes, which aren't pavement, but metal grating.  Riding on this grating on a motorcycle causes the bike to be pushed randomly sideways, which is not a good feeling when you're 155 feet above the water, and I poked Jason more than once which he knows means SLOW DOWN OR ELSE!

After we got across the bridge and paid our toll, we had to make a little pit stop.  Last year, we stopped in Trout Lake for lunch on the way home from this race, and much to Jason's dismay, we were a white minivan in a sea of motorcycles and ATVs.

This year, we might have been the only vehicle in the parking lot, but we were on two wheels only, and Jason got his redemption.

We popped inside for a little snack and then we were off again.

With about an hour or so until our next scheduled stop, I broke out the watermelon gum.  It's not a Harley road trip without watermelon gum and we always have it in stock.

Then we headed to Grand Marais. This town is located right on Lake Superior and is the eastern gateway to the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.  We had lunch at a little brewery there and watched the kayakers and sailboats enter and leave the shore.

And then it was time to head to Munising.  The road from Grand Marais to Munising was gorgeous- full of twists and turns and the air was still cool enough to be comfortable in my jacket.

We stopped along the way, on the recommendation of some fellow bikers we met at lunch, at a place called Logslide Overlook.  The story is that it takes one minute to get down the sand to the lake and up to three hours to climb back up to the top.  We decided to enjoy the view from the top only, before getting back on the bike!

Once in Munising, we headed straight for packet pickup.  While I got my race bib and shirt, Jason met with the race director to get details on volunteering on race day.  On the way out, I bumped into some Bay City runners I had met up with a couple times over the winter.  There would be some familiar faces on the course this year!

We hopped back on the bike and headed to the campground.  Every single campsite had been rented for this weekend, and it was bustling.  We found our little tent site and started to unload.  It didn't take long to put up our tent, lay out our sleeping bags and get situated.

The next order of business was food.  We headed back into town and decided we weren't very hungry-yet.  So we had a beer and chatted with some fellow bikers while we waited for our pizza to-go-I'd just heat it up later over the fire when I got hungry!  Then we stopped at a convenience store and grabbed some more beer, water, and of course, marshmallows.  And then we headed back to camp, on a motorcycle, with me holding down my very precious cargo-PIZZA.

There was firewood available for purchase at the campground, but we decided we could get more for our money if we rode a few miles down the road.  We pulled off on the way and I found a great marshmallow stick and carried it with me.  Then we found a great place to buy the wood.  Just one problem: too much wood and not enough room on the bike!  Even with the saddle bags filled, along with all I could carry, we still had to make two trips.

When we got back to camp and got the fire going, we took a little walk down to the shore, and there it was: Grand Island.  The site of my race was looming in the distance and I could envision the trails I'd be on the next day.

Back at the campsite, several of the Bay City runners stopped in and we talked for a long time about running and racing and strategies and life. In my opinion, this is the best part of traveling to races-meeting new people and hearing their stories.  I was excited to run with them on what would be a first ultramarathon for several of them.  After that, we ate fire-roasted pizza and it was fabulous.

I topped that off with a few perfectly roasted marshmallows-yummy!

And then, Jason had the crazy idea that he wanted to swim in Lake Superior.  So we headed back down to the beach where he quickly decided that it was way too cold at that time of night for a swim, so we enjoyed the sunset for a few minutes before heading back to get ready for bed.

With just six hours before we'd have to wake up to make it to the island before the race, we plugged in our phones to charge and tried to get some sleep.  (This is where I make a little side note about things I would bring the next time I go tent camping in a packed campground: AIR MATTRESSES AND EARPLUGS!)

Soon enough, my alarm went off and it was time to get going.  Because camp checkout was earlier than we could be back from the race and Saturday night was booked solid, we had to pack up everything we had brought with us. At 4am.  In the dark.  Trying to be quiet while everyone else slept.  Except not trying to be TOO quiet because the people in the tent next to us had chosen to loudly brush their teeth for several minutes at midnight, just inches from our tent.  And also not too quietly because can you really be THAT quiet on a Harley at any time of day?!

We bolted into town for coffee, wearing race clothes and our jackets, and with me holding a large garbage bag I filled to the brim with things that had somehow fit on the motorcycle when I had packed it the day prior in the daylight and not in a rush.  We parked at the high school, and stuffed our jackets and the garbage bag under the back tire, and hoped things would be as we had left them when we returned later that day.  It's kind of an unspoken rule with runners that you respect peoples' belongings.  We've all seen each others' hiding places for keys and wallets and all sorts of things and I wasn't too worried about leaving our things unattended.  We hopped on a bus filled with racers and volunteers and headed out to the ferry.

The ferry ride is listed as "a short 8 minute ride over to the island" but the whole thing lasted no more than four minutes-hardly enough time to get cold or to get splashed by the waves that were crashing up the sides of the boat.  And then we were there-on the island!  Most of us gathered in the little lodge near the start line, mainly because the mosquitoes were unbelievable outside.  I had completely doused myself with insect repellant, hoping it would last at least a few miles before I completely sweated it off, and those pesky little bugs seemed to be keeping their distance from me.  As our group began trickling in, again we talked of races and running and discussed race fuel and hydration packs and admired each others' gear.

With just a few minutes before the official start, we all headed outside and got together for a group picture.  Next up: 31 miles or BUST!  What would the day hold?

And then it was time to go.  We started out together as a pack, but soon enough we settled into our desired paces, and as Brian and I were at a similar pace, we decided to run together for as long as we could both keep up with each other.  This was his first ultra, and I had trained with him earlier in the year in Bay City and also happened to run both the Rock N Roll Nashville Marathon (his first) and Bayshore Marathon with him.  He had said that this would be his first and last ultra, but I had bets on him changing his mind.  The first seven miles came and went fairly easily and I was feeling pretty good and happy to be back on these trails for another year.

After Mile 7, we headed out onto the shore for a mile.  This is a gorgeous beachfront and the water is so calm and pristine and there are amazing views in every direction.

I have heard that in previous years the beach has been wide and runnable.  Last year, I was barely able to keep both feet on the hard, wet sand without getting wet, and this year, after about 25 yards, we all gave up and resorted to splashing through the water for the remainder of this section.

At Mile 8 the beach portion was over and the trail took us back into the forest.  It was only around 7:30am and the forest was still calm and still and mostly asleep.  After a few more miles, we came to a great spot to view the Pictured Rocks and catch the sunrise.  Somewhere, out across that water, lies Canada!

As we ticked off the miles, we got slightly slower but not too much.  By about Mile 15 we were walking most of the uphills and wondering where, exactly, the downhills were!  At Mile 16, we made out first stop to refill our packs and promptly received multiple mosquito bites.  I guess that insect repellant was long gone!  The volunteers had the right idea, dressed head to toe in complete beekeeper outfits, with no bare skin showing.  At Mile 19, we took a short break to take some photos at one of the highest points on the island.  The views were amazing and I wished I wasn't running a race so I could stay a little longer.  At Mile 21, I remember telling Brian that I had NO idea how I had run a 50 mile race just a month prior.  These last ten miles were going to be challenging, and I knew there was a big climb just ahead...

We came into the Mile 22/27 aid station where Jason was volunteering, refilled our packs, re-covered ourselves with bug spray and headed into the out-and-back section that everyone was dreading.

At Mile 23, there was a small, rocky stream crossing, but the water was cool and refreshing and we happily crossed it and headed up the hill.

This section was almost exclusively walking and it was precisely at this time that the black flies came out in FULL FORCE.  So much of my energy was spent trying to swat away these flies that were at least twice as large as any normal black fly I'd ever seen.  About 1/2 mile from the turnaround at the top of the hill, I came around a corner and spotted Sharon, from our group, coming down the hill at me.  She said, "Did Brian not make the turn up the hill?" and I joyfully informed her that he was right behind me!  Brian had injured his hip a few weeks prior and wasn't sure he'd be able to go the distance.  He had told us that if he wasn't feeling it, he would just skip this five mile stretch and head for the finish, but he did it!  Just after the turnaround at Mile 24.5, Brian caught back up with me and we headed back down the hill.  This was short-lived, however, as I was once again swarmed by black flies and had to literally sprint down the hill, making Mile 26 my fastest mile of the entire race!  I took a quick picture of Echo Lake as I crossed the stream once again and headed into the Mile22/27 aid station.

As he did last year, Jason decided to run in to the finish ahead of me at this point, so he would be there for the finish.  Brian found his own groove and also took off on ahead of me in the last four miles.  We had agreed that if either of us wanted to go on ahead, they should and I was proud to watch him finish his first (and hopefully not last) ultra strong.  Those last four miles were quite brutal for me as the black flies continued to torment me and the temperature was steadily climbing.  I had a small moment of superhuman strength where I decided to lift this tree out of the way, and it somehow was captured by photograph!

But then, much to my dismay, I discovered that the tree had left my hands covered in sticky sap.  Perfect.  Luckily, I had stuck a random hand wipe packet in my pack that morning and managed to get most of the stickiness off.  The miles seemed to be passing sooooo slowly, but then I saw that Mile 30 marker and I knew the finish line was just a few minutes away.  As I turned the last corner and headed in, I was focused in on the finish line.

That's when I heard it-I'm not sure which of the Bay City runners it was, but one of them yelled out, "YOU DIDN'T EVEN GET A GOOD POOP STORY OUT OF THIS RACE!"  I crossed that finish line laughing, and happily accepted my medal.

The medals for this race are a little different-a wood medallion, imprinted with the race details and island, with a neck loop which is hand knit from Alpaca wool by the race director's wife.  It's not the biggest or fanciest medal out there, but I think it's completely fitting for a trail run on an island that is pack-in, pack-out, and very in tune with nature and preserving our surroundings.

I finished this race 18 minutes slower than last year, but I have no complaints.  I felt I ran a solid race and looking back at my race as a whole, I am content with my performance.  With over 1800 feet of elevation gain throughout the course, it definitely provided challenges.

But that's not where this story ends.  After catching the ferry back to the mainland, and taking the bus back to our motorcycle, we found that yes, in fact, all of our belongings were right as we had left them.  I crawled onto the bike, a sweaty, wet, stinking mess, and headed back to the campground where the manager had thankfully agreed to let us shower before hitting the road.  While I sloooooowly peeled off my disgusting clothes, showered and re-packed the bag more efficiently, Jason headed out to Lake Superior to give that lake swimming thing another try.  He came back refreshed and ready to go, with his mission accomplished.

The only thing left to do now was park my butt on my SMILE pillow on the back of the bike...

...and hit the road.

I wasn't really sore, aside from my feet, but I found that letting my legs dangle instead of putting them on the footrests provided a lot of relief.

After an enormous amount of Mexican food in St. Ignace, we once again crossed the Mackinaw Bridge.

The sky had been threatening to rain almost the entire trip home, but somehow it stayed dry for us the whole way back to Gaylord.  In fact, by the time we arrived, the sky began to clear a little and I was pretty happy to relax on my favorite beach, watching my kids play in the lake as the sun began to set.

30 hours, 400 miles on motorcycle, 31 miles on foot, a million memories.

Alayna Turns Eight

I can't really believe that my baby girl turned eight years old today. EIGHT.  It feels like I was just writing about moving to the farm and how much Alayna was loving it here, but it's been a whole year.  Last year, Alayna was a timid first-grader starting over in a new school.  This year, she tackled second grade.

And she was even selected as Student of the Month in March!

Last year, I told you about Alayna's new birthday twin BFF, Chloe, who lives across the street.  This year, I have watched them become nearly inseparable.

Last year, Alayna's gymnastics consisted mostly of handstands and round-offs, but this year, she has really gotten serious about improving and is this close to nailing that back handspring.  I'm not really sure how she can bend like that, but she makes it look very easy!  Dad even made her a balance beam with barn wood, which provides hours of entertainment.

Last year, she was coming off of her Elsa phase, but her love of makeup and dress-up has not wavered.  Here are just a few photos of what everyday Alayna is like:



Though she loves dressing up and making up her face, what Alayna loves the most is being outdoors with the animals, including her pets as well as random creatures that make their way into our yard (and her hands.)




There's one more thing...no birthday blog about Alayna would be complete without mentioning it.  That hair.  That white-blonde, curly hair that cannot be tamed.  It sneaks into every photograph and completely has a mind of its own.  At this point, there's only one way to handle all that hair-Let it GOOOOOOOOOO!  Alayna wouldn't be the same without that wild mane, and even when it's a snarly, tangled mess, it is her.

She can sprint on the track.

ride circles around me on the dirtbike,

take a tumble in the fall leaves.

race down a snowhill on a sled,

ring the bell for dinner,

and still have time to gather a bunch of flowers for me.

She is sunshine and laughter and sweetness and everything that is good.

She is my Laynie Lou, and today she is eight.

Happy Birthday, Alayna!  Mama loves you!

Race Recap: The Mohican 50 Mile Edition

A year and a half ago, I finished my first 50k.  I knew then that that race was just the beginning of my jump into the ultrarunning world.  I decided after completing my second 50k last summer that I wanted more.  I decided to run the Bigfoot 50k in December and then, if all went well, I'd shoot for the Mohican 50 miler this year.   Except Bigfoot didn't go as planned.  I finished only 10.5 miles of the 31 mile course and I left with my spirit crushed.  My first DNF-it wasn't a good feeling.  I decided to take a step away from ultras and just get back to enjoying running.  And in January, I did that.  Except there was this little voice in my head whispering, "Mohican."  By March, I couldn't make that voice be quiet.  I decided to go for it.  I found a 50 mile training plan and fit some races into the lineup.  I paced the Ann Arbor Marathon in March, ran the Rock & Roll Nashville Marathon in April, and then ran the Bayshore Marathon in May.  In early June, the schedule had a 50k planned as a Saturday long run.  I couldn't find a local 50k and didn't have the time to travel, so I opted for a self-supported point-to-point 50k solo.  And it was so much fun.  I knew if I could go 31 miles alone, I at least had a shot at completing 50 miles with support. The course would be a tough one, but I felt up for the challenge.

Finally it was time to head to Ohio. I had completed all of my training, gathered everything I would need for a full day in the woods, and now I just had to do it.  I arrived Friday afternoon in Loudonville, OH and made my way to packet pickup.  It was a light-hearted atmosphere filled with old friends and making new ones, and of course, beer.  Filip was there, who I had paced with in Ann Arbor, as well as Scott and Tom who were also ultra veterans.

I headed back to the hotel where I assembled my drop bag, loaded my vest with supplies and fuel, and laid out my clothing.  And then it was time: One more sleep until the BIG day.  Except, I didn't sleep-I never sleep the night before a race.  So, I tossed and turned for six hours and was already awake when my alarm went off at 4am.  After chugging some coffee and downing a protein bar (which I do every single day) I got ready to go.  I made it to the Start Line, where runners were slowly congregating. The 100 mile runners had already taken off and soon it would be our turn.  I placed my drop bag filled with extra shoes and socks and anything I thought might sound good after 27 miles of running in the designated area and headed in search of a bathroom.  A pre-race poop is a good omen for me, and this day did not disappoint!  Whew!  One less thing to worry about out on the trails.
After that, I scoured the start area and found Leanne.  This was her second 50 miler-a stepping stone to her goal race of 100 miles in July at Burning River.  We had discussed running some miles together at this race and I was excited to have a companion at the start.

I always find the start of ultras a little funny.  There is no big fanfare, no gun fired, no big to-do.  Everyone just kind of gathers near the start, someone says"GO" and we go!  At the start of the race it was already 70 degrees and the humidity was so high you could feel it on your skin.  With temperatures predicted to reach near 90 degrees, everyone had hydration on their minds.  We started out at a comfortably slow pace and talked about races and fueling strategies and how lucky we were to get to spend an entire day in that beautiful forest.  It seemed like we had just begun, but there stood our first aid station.  I wasn't hungry, and I still had plenty of fluids, but there was watermelon and I couldn't resist.  I quickly ate a piece and took off again, following Leanne.  The next aid station had a little bit more distance to it, but we chatted and laughed and shared stories and at the top of a small climb, we made it to our second aid station-Fire Tower.  I again had some watermelon and a few orange slices and the volunteers filled my pack with water.  We didn't stick around long and then we were off and running again.  I was excited for the next part of the course because I knew what was coming-a descent into an amazing canyon with a waterfall.  The route took us right through the bottom of it and it was breathtaking.  Leanne and I each took turns taking pictures for each other and I have to admit, I was pretty sad that I'd only get to see that spot once during the race.

The next aid station was Covered Bridge and boy, was I happy to see those tents appear.  By this time, I was drenched with sweat and the temperature was rising.  A volunteer took my pack and filled it with ice and water.  As I grazed on watermelon and pb&j squares, a tall man who was volunteering approached.  When I asked him if he ran and he said, "a little", I knew that meant a lot.  I asked him what his next race was and he said Western States!  If you don't know, Western States is to ultra runners what Boston is to marathoners.  He told us to hydrate well because the next portion of the race would be the most difficult and it would be seven miles until the next aid station.

Let me tell you right here, that guy was NOT joking.  As soon as we left the road and headed back onto the trail, we were faced with endless steep climbs and switchbacks.  We took it slow and steady and were thankful for any portions that leveled off or gave us any kind of downhill.  The trails were very narrow and filled with roots and taking your eye off the trail for even a moment could trip you.  I found this out personally around Mile 16.  I lost focus for just a second and CRASHED.  I hopped back up quickly and shook myself off and kept running.  Leanne and I had discussed earlier that if one of us had to back off or speed up, then so be it.  When she started to pull away from me around Mile 17, I let her.  I could tell she was feeling great and I was happy to see her go.

I came up to the Hickory Ridge aid station and realized this was my last aid station before I was back to the start.  They took my pack from me and filled it and I snacked on more watermelon and a cookie and hit the road. On this portion of the trail, I met up with and older man with a thick accent.  He was so positive and talkative and I was thankful to be following him.  He talked of races he had run all over the country and asked about my family and I swear he talked me all the way in to the Start Line aid station.

When I got to the Start Line after 27 miles, I was starting to feel it.  My feet had begun to hurt and I was HOT.  Filip and Tom were both there and while Filip helped me get my pack off and filled, Tom told us how he had already fallen four times and had a pretty good gash on his leg.  I knew that this stop would be the hardest for me. All I had to do was get myself going again.  I was feeling nauseous from the heat and didn't want to eat anything.  I wanted to change my shoes, but Filip advised me to keep the shoes and change my socks.  He was so full of energy and I most definitely was NOT.  He pulled off my socks and I put the new ones on and then he tied my shoes for me while I sat there and panicked.  I told him I was going to go to the bathroom and I'd wait for Tom and him by the  start of the second loop, but he told me to just take off.  He must've somehow known that had I stood around much longer, it would be doomsday for me.

After about five miles, I came to the next aid station-Gorge Overlook.  I was at a low point, and I asked the volunteers if I could just sit for a minute.  I took one look at all of the food and decided I wanted none of it.  I pretty much collapsed into a chair, and this angel woman appeared and asked if I would like some overnight oats with chia and agave.  HELL YES I DID.  She pulled a magical container from nowhere and gave me a full cup of deliciousness.  I think I sat there twenty minutes savoring that treat, but it was totally worth it.  I thanked her and told her I loved her and took off down the trail once more.

This is where I entered uncharted waters. I had never ran more than 31 miles before. I had never been on my feet running for more than seven hours.  I was now entering hour nine.  I could feel the ache from my feet slowly moving up my legs as the time moved on.  I was walking along the trail when I was passed by a smiling 100 mile woman and another couple running the 50.  They called to me to join their "train" and I did.  They were not moving fast, but they were slowly running and chatting and it definitely raised my spirits.  At the next aid station, those of us running the 50 had a right turn, and we wished good luck to our 100 mile leader as she continued on her journey.  I stuck with the couple for a few more miles and then they stopped for a break and I didn't see them again.

The next few miles were long for me and I started doing the math in my head.  I was traveling about four miles per hour; I wanted to finish by 9pm; I wanted to finish before it was dark.  At that rate I'd be done around 7:00 or 7:30.  And then I got even slower.  The pain had reached my knees and downhills were no longer appealing.  I was alone in the woods and WHERE IN THE HELL WAS THE COVERED BRIDGE AID STATION?!   I had expected to see it by Mile 37, but there was no sign of it.  Was I even on the right trail?  When was the last time I saw another runner?  When was the last time I saw an orange flag?  And then, of course, I saw an orange flag. And then I saw the sign indicating I was approaching the Covered Bridge aid station.  As I got closer, I saw the same tall man I had talked to during my first stop.  I stared at him in disbelief and he said, "We've been waiting for you!"  Me?!  For real?  Was a dreaming?  He followed me into the aid station and my pack was quickly filled with the last ice they had to offer.  I had a sandwich and wanted to sit down, but knew I didn't have much time.  I went over and thanked him for his encouragement and wished him luck at Western States and promised to follow his race, and I was off. Somewhere along my way, I turned around and spotted these guys just watching us all pass by!

I had a little over seven miles to the next aid station and I was all alone.  I slowly started climbing through the steep terrain and realized my bug spray had long ago worn off.  There were black flies constantly swarming me.  I expended WAY too much energy fighting off those beasts.  I was moving slowly-only about three miles per hour at this point.  But I only had 12 miles to the finish!  Just 12!  HOW WAS I GOING TO GO TWELVE MORE MILES?!  My legs were really starting to hate me and my shoulders were throbbing from carrying my pack for so long. I just wanted to be done.  Around Mile 39, I caught a glimpse of white behind me.  Filip.  Who was this guy?!  He seemed to have endless energy as he came upon runners and offered advice and skipped and told stories.  He finally caught up to me and encouraged me to shuffle run when I could and to fast walk the uphills.  Easy for him to say.  I tried to follow him, but soon enough he was too far ahead to see.  I guess I started to space out, when suddenly something was coming AT me on the trail.  I let out a yell and stopped in my tracks. There, in front of me was a groundhog.  What the hell?  It looked like it was going to charge at me.  My first thought was to pick up a rock and chuck it at him, but I decided to take out my camera instead.  If that thing was going to attack me, I at least wanted it documented!  As I snapped a photo, it decided to turn and take off up the hill.  Adios, dude.  On my way.

At the final aid station, I ran into Filip once again.  He tried to get me to eat, but I was really angry at this point.  Everything hurt.  Badly.  He waited for me to gather myself and we set off to the finish together.  It was only about five miles away, but I knew that meant two more hours on the trails.  TWO MORE HOURS!  No turning back now.  I might not have been moving very fast but I wasn't standing still!  As we hiked and walked and shuffled, I mentioned that I had had a confrontation with a groundhog.  Filip told me I was probably just hallucinating. I promptly gave him the middle finger and told him I was super happy I had taken a picture!  Those last two hours were excruciating and even though Filip tried to cheer me up, I was nothing but an angry beast.  Everything in my body wanted me to stop.  My quads were toast, I could feel random chafing everywhere, I was SO dirty and hot, and I was saying really unpleasant things to Filip, despite his best efforts to urge me on.

The last three miles of the race were spent winding in and out of the campground.  As we passed campers and volunteers and other runners, Filip kept yelling out, "THIS IS HER FIRST 50!  ISN'T SHE DOING GREAT?!" That of course, would get cheers and congratulations from everyone and I couldn't help but smile.  I crossed the finish line at 8:51pm, nearly 15 hours after I had begun that morning.  I was so elated that I had made it.  I was so elated that it was over!  I JUST RAN 50 MILES!

As I headed to find a place to sit down, I spotted the man with the accent I had run with earlier in the day and collapsed into a heap at his table.  He congratulated me and said he knew he'd see me crossing that finish line.  I think it took until that moment to realize that it was actually over.  That I had actually done it. And when I was sitting there ugly crying and that man said, "Hey, mom of five, those better be happy tears", he took my phone and snapped a picture.

Ultrarunning is about more than just running.  It is a community.  The people that I have met are the most genuine souls.  Many of the volunteers are runners themselves, and they know just what you need and just what to say.  I could not have completed this race alone.  So many people helped me along the way. The runners I encountered, the volunteers, the fans, they all helped me succeed.  And when I was finished?  I had a few people waiting to hear the good news as well.

I told my husband on the phone that night that I was pretty sure I had gotten this ultrarunning thing out of my system, but I think I'm going to have to take that back.  It's been two days since my first  50 and I still can't go down one single step without flinching, but I'm already dreaming about when I can get back out there. Afterall, who could give up all this?