50k a week after 50M. Why not?

What an amazing running season!! I had planned on ending the year with my first 50M and write up a spectacular blog.  But then this race happened to come along less than a week later and I feel this is what I need to write about. This race was all me. No friends to push me when it got hard. No one to give me those encouraging words during those tough miles. No jokes. Mostly silence. Back to how I started racing.

Race day morning: 4:55am alarm “Why am I doing this again? How did it get to this (again?)”

I had decided to sign up for the Glacial Trail 50K only 5 days after North Face Endurance Challenge 50 Mile race. It was my first 50 miler and it was exciting, painful, glorious… and painful. Did I mention it was painful? 12 hours, 33 min and 4 seconds of joking, singing and laughing. Oh, and running.

I rode on that high for about a day or two before the post-race blues set in. I was done with the big race of the year. Now what?  I had to admit my condition when I started tearing up at the sight of the geese at the local lake & trail, taking off in their beautiful v-formation.
"This is it, they’re leaving. Summer is done, fall is here. Winter is coming." Then the tears came and I was a mess.
I went home and immediately looked up races to run – soon.  Hello, Glacial 50K.

After my brain registered the sound of the alarm, I dragged myself out of bed and fumbled with the coffee maker.  PSA: Make sure your coffee maker is in working condition BEFORE you actually need it. I didn’t have much to do in the morning as I have learned to sleep in my running gear and I kept it really simple with this race.


It was dark and windy as I stumbled to the car and cursed myself for not bringing a throw-away jacket with me.  As I drove up to the fire station that was the main headquarter and start/finish line, I saw the 50 mile runners take off. I couldn’t help but feel pride at seeing their headlamps in the darkness as heard them shuffle along.  I don’t think that will ever get old.

It was a different atmosphere once I walked in. As I took in the room, I saw that a lot of these runners seem to know each other pretty well. I handed in my registration slip, went through my supplies in my orange mud hydraquiver, mixed up my Cocogo packets and obsessed over it repeatedly.
Then it was time to line up … no time mat but I was fine with that. I wasn’t going for time anyway. It wasn’t as cold as the weekend before but it was still COLD!! I zoned out almost immediately to the sound of our feet shuffling and water bottles swishing around in our hydration packs.

Trail markers. Sporadic & hard to see.

My legs were heavy and I felt tired immediately.  It seemed confused. Somewhere between “Yay! We’re running again!” to “What the hell? Didn't we just do this a week ago??”  But my body felt strong. I was in the zone and was going at a comfortably hard pace despite the climbs. As I passed two guys, I heard them discuss my orange mud pack and one joked that it was more of a jet pack.

Then I got lost somewhere around the 10 mile mark. Have you ever done this at a race? It’s one of the worst feelings. It starts with “Hmm haven’t seen anyone in awhile… shoot, did I miss a trail marker?...I should have hit the next aid station by now. Oh my god, I’m lost”.
I did my best to remember all the turns I made and successfully made it back to where I’d gotten lost. Sort of. If I hadn’t seen another runner and interrogated asked them their direction (this was an out and back), I may possibly be still out there.

Can you spot the trail markers? *Answers at the end of blog*

It turns out it was only about 1.5 miles total that I’d lost. But this was a trail run. It’s completely different from a 1.5 pavement mile. Just the time I spent finding my way back – slowly, to carefully check for those trail markers – cost me about 20 min.  I was devastated. By mile 9, I was already hurting big time but had the notion that I could PR my 50K time. And I now had to make up another 1.5 miles.  The thought of quitting came to mind.  It wasn’t a brief thought that came and went. I seriously thought about it.  But I knew better. I wouldn’t quit ~ there’s no way in hell I was going to throw in the towel. So what if I wasn’t going to make my PR? Besides, all those runners giving me the cold shoulder won’t see me DNF unless I was seriously injured and pulled off course.
I wasn’t happy but I would continue. I pushed through the occasional shooting pain in my ITB and then the opposite knee. I ran up hills and took every opportunity of downhill “gravity” to run, whether I was hurting or not.  I didn’t waste a lot of time at aid stations (there weren’t much and they weren’t really that friendly anyway…

At mile 18, I came to terms with this race. From the cliques and to getting lost.  I decided that this was no place to hold resentment (not that there ever is a time to). I was blessed with another opportunity to do what I love. To enjoy the trails, beautiful Wisconsin fall weather and to complete another ultra.  I wasn’t going to let anyone ruin that for me.  To fully convince my brain, I actually said out loud “I’m going to have a good day, damnit.” And laughed my way down the hill. (I may have hit the wall here)

I refused to let anyone pass me after the last aid station (around 22 miles). By then, the pain in my left ankle/arch returned. This developed towards the end of the North Face race the weekend before but hadn’t given me much trouble since.  I tried striking my foot in different areas of my feet with each landing and could keep the pain manageable. Then the same pain started on the right foot. There were some shooting pain on the outer part of my ankle as well. But with less than 10 miles to go, I was going to push through it.

About 1/4 mile left,  I noticed an older gentleman with an Ironman visor.  I caught up to him and asked if he did the IM Wisconsin. “Yup, but this is entirely different type of race”.  I could only shake my head at first. I told him I’ve volunteered at that IM and saw firsthand what the athletes go through. “You are tough” and as I charged ahead, I told him again how I admired him.

That brief encounter gave me all the energy I needed to push it hard to the finish line.  I finished around 7:44:xx (I’m still not sure on the finish line).  At the end of it, I didn’t care about the finish line.  I finished another 50K – only a week after my first 50 miler.

It was a tough course with crazy elevation levels, easy-to-miss trail markers and difficult terrain.

Would I do it again? Absolutely :)

Despite my experience with the runners, I have nothing but great things to say about the race director.  He was in charge with the 12 hr night race and I was so impressed with his willingness to accommodate the runners.  How many races have you run where the director asks you what you’d like to have at the end of the race? If they don’t have it, he’ll run out and buy it.  (Yes, I wrote him a thank-you email!)

Even though I didn’t officially register until the morning of the race, I recently received another handwritten note with a finisher hoodie.  I highly recommend running a Badgerland Striders race ~ and say hi to Robert!