The Painful Reality That Is 50 Miles

The JFK 50 Mile results show my third place finish, just 2 minutes behind first and 30 seconds behind second. Coming off the AT about 20 minutes behind the lead women would signify that I made up a lot of ground. Which I did, I will not deny that.

However, to say I had a good race would be a lie. I actually had a pretty bad race that ended in a good result.

The first 16 miles are on the Appalachian Trail, so I knew I would go slowly and let the other women go. This was a good plan, except that I focused so hard on not falling that getting open my nutrition was almost impossible with gloved, cold hands. I might have taken in 150 calories on that section, when I would have liked at least 300. I only fell once, at mile 13, and although I am very bruised and have some significant gashes, it did not hinder my progress much. I felt the most sore from that the day after, not during.

During the first 20 miles, I went to the bathroom 5 times. Not just to pee. I believe this happened because I accidentally consumed artificial sugar in my coffee before the race, which I never do because it messes with my gut. I thought it was plain dairy free coffee creamer, but it wasn’t, it had Equal in it. Oops. That in combination with my high fiber, plant based diet was not too good for my gut. 

This all occurred when my legs actually felt good. 

At mile 25, the wheels began to come off, which was expected, as I haven’t really been ultra training for 2 years. By mile 30, the pain was pretty intense, at least in that I hadn’t experienced it for a long time. 

Ultra pain. Race pain. The kind that is just terrible but I could still run. 

I contemplated dropping at mile 32. Thoughts roamed through my mind.

What if this is actual bad pain and I get injured before the trials?

Am I being dumb here (yes…)?

I should just stop, this is silly, what was I thinking?

As I approached the Aid Station, I saw one of the lead women dropping out with a back injury. 

Shit, she’s actually injured. Ellie, you’re just being a wuss. Try to make it to the next aid.

The next 20 miles were a plug and chug with the pain level steadily increasing. Never once did it cross my mind that I was still in the race to compete for the podium. I actually repeated many times “some races, you just finish and that’s ok.”

I was sitting in 4th or 5th but assuming some women were going to catch me. I wasn’t paying attention to my watch as it’s always wrong, but I felt like I was going so slow.

At mile 39ish I caught Nicole Bitter who was struggling with a calf cramp. Then I saw the second place woman, who had passed us earlier. 

Did I start to chase her down? No. I was in a lot of pain and it wasn’t getting better. She was about ½ mile ahead and I was at peace with my effort and ability. Plug and chug, some races you just finish.

As we hit the road section, every person told me I was only a few minutes behind her and closing the gap. However, it was not to be.

Those last four miles were the most painful thing I’ve experienced in a while, actually, since my last 50 miler ironically.

I cried. I told myself it was ok to cry, but it was not ok to give up.

Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up if you can move forward.

Those last miles were not pretty. My race had not been pretty. But I could not give up.

I got within 30 seconds of the second place woman and within 2 minutes of the first place, Cecelia Flores of New Zealand fame.

The results do not convey the process, but an ugly PR is still a PR.

6:48:21

Through all this, the thought does cross my mind, what if I actually felt good?