Race Recap: 2019 North Country Trail 50k

A year ago, I spent a day in the woods running the North Country Trail 50 mile race.  With huge finisher medals, wonderful single track, and exceptional aid station fare, these North Country races sell out very quickly.  It wasn't my first 50, and it was smack-dab in the middle of my 100 mile training.  Perfect, right?  Except it wasn't.  On that morning, the race was delayed due to thunderstorms and a slight hiccup with aid station food inspections, and we started the race nearly three hours later than planned.  It rained on and off for most of the day, I hadn't really clicked with anyone out on the trails, leaving me running solo, and at Mile 41 I called my family in tears.  It was a miserable day.  Despite coming away with a new 50 mile PR, I vowed that I wouldn't be running that race again.

In the months that followed, I ran another 50, attempted (and failed) my first 100, ran a few really long training runs with friends, ran a road marathon, ran a 50k, and ran another 50. Somewhere in there my friend, Tim, talked me into the 50k at North Country.  He was attempting the 50 mile on Saturday (his first) and the 50k on Sunday and was looking for a little Sunday support.  He had gotten me through a springtime 50k, so it was only fair that I returned the favor.  The 50k was a new distance this year, and I decided I could slog out 31 miles on those trails.  It had to better than last year, right?

Race day arrived with cool temps and clear skies.  As we gathered near the starting line in the near-darkness, the race director gave us some last minute information on this new course and expressed his gratitude to all of us for joining in on this new race distance.  As a huge bonus, he announced that every single runner who completed the 50k this year would receive a FREE entry to next year's 50k.  How awesome is that?!  Next up, a military gold star mom, Mrs. Baker, gave an inspiring speech on how she turned her life around after losing her son.  Then, I sang along to O, Canada and The Star-Spangled Banner, and it was time to go.

As we all slowly inched forward in the starting corral, a familiar face popped out at me!  It was my friend, Janene, who I met on our trip to Colorado over the winter.  She told me she wasn't sure how her race would go as she hadn't had much time or desire to run the last few weeks.  Hey! Me either!  Since Pikes Peak 50k last month, it has been a whirlwind of back to school events and work and just LIFE.  I just kept telling myself that maybe the low miles would be a good thing.

Then it was ready, set, GO, and off we went.  I was near the front of the pack, but we all settled in and no one really seemed to be in a hurry.  Within the first mile I settled in behind Janene and figured I'd stick with her for as long as I could without killing myself.  Within two miles, the pack had thinned so much that aside from an occasional glimpse from the runner in front of us, we were alone.  We were chatting and catching up on each other's busy lives, making quick stops at aid stations, and I kid you not, within a BLINK, ten miles had passed!  A third of the race!  Didn't we just start running?  I know I'm a picture freak, but this is literally the only photo I even thought about taking in the first ten miles, and it's blurry.

When we came through the next aid station, I spotted oranges, and managed to take my orange pic as we were heading out of there.

The miles were flying by and I was listening to her talk about her Quest for the Crest race when BAM.  Down I went.  I popped back up and brushed myself off, vowing to stay focused.  We kept going and then BAM!  Shit!  AGAIN?!  This time I hit a little harder and I'm pretty sure I gave myself a little bit of whiplash.  I once again got myself upright, brushed myself off, didn't see any blood, and kept going.  Janene had a runner waiting for her at Mile 16, and while I told them I'd stick with them as long as I could, I knew with his fresh legs, they'd soon be moving too quickly for me.  I ran with them for a bit, but soon let them carry on, excited for how well they were doing, and then I was alone.

I was still feeling really good and just continued to move at a steady pace.  It was so strange to not see anyone out on the trails.  At the aid stations it was just me, and I never caught a glimpse of anyone ahead of or behind me.

Around Mile 20 or so, there was a little out and back.  Finally on my way back, I saw a couple of runners about two miles behind me.  And then I was back on the single track and the woods were silent.

The last 1/3 of this loop is the hilliest, but I have to say, it is also the most beautiful part of the course.

There were several signs warning of steep hills, but honestly, after Pikes Peak, these were baby hills.

I was getting a little tired, but I knew that if I slowed down too much I'd get passed, and I didn't want that to happen at this point in the game!

I knew in the last mile I had to climb a sandy hill, but it was much smaller than I had remembered from the previous year, and I took a second to take in the view.

And then, it was literally all downhill from there.  Less than a mile to the finish.  The finish line at North Country has to be my favorite one of all of the ultras I've done.  It's loud and rowdy and everyone is cheering you all the way down the finishers chute.  Even people who have walked their entire race find the strength to run hard those last few yards.  It is definitely a celebration!

And then, when they hang that huge medal around your neck, you can feel the weight of your accomplishment.  Seriously.  That thing weighs 1.7 POUNDS.  I'm not exaggerating.

I really owe my race finish to Janene.  She kept me going for miles and miles and set me up for a great finish.  I came away with first in my age group, fifth female, and twelfth overall.

And my friend, Tim?  Well, he not only finished his first 50 miler on Saturday, but also battled through and finished the 50k on Sunday.  We all congratulated him and the burning question for him was, "WHEN ARE YOU DOING A 100?"

I'm so glad a took the chance to come back to North Country again.  The 50k was a great race and I will definitely be back.  I got to see so many old, familiar faces, and I got to meet several people I had only known through social media, and I met lots of new runners, too.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go reinforce my wall so I can hang that big, beefy medal up there!

Race Recap: Pikes Peak 50k

Back in February, I flew out to Colorado with 11 other brave souls to climb Mount Quandary in the dead of winter. While I knew it would not be an easy task, I felt that coming off of my 100 mile ultra training combined with my snowy runs all winter here in Michigan, I'd be able to struggle up this Colorado 14er and make it to the summit. WRONG. I made it to about 11,500 feet before frigid wind gusts of -40 degrees, a frozen mountainside, and my crippling fear of heights sent me down the mountain and back to Michigan with some pretty big regret. I couldn't believe how scared I had been and decided that the mountains just weren't for me.

 But then my crazy must've kicked in, because on March 15, just a month after swearing off mountains, I registered for the Pikes Peak 50k. Clearly I had a screw loose. I just had to try this mountain thing again. My aunt and uncle had moved to the Denver area the previous fall, so I just needed a plane ticket west and then I'd stay with my family, run the race, and fly home. I filled my calendar with a combination of 50k and 50 mile races leading up to Pikes Peak, and figured if I couldn't train at elevation for this race, at least I could get some serious miles under my belt.

 And then my plans changed a bit. I had been toying with an idea of a trip out west with my family for the last year or so, and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could make it happen, with this race smack-dab in the middle of it. I plotted our course: Michigan to Missouri, Missouri to Texas via Oklahoma, Texas to the Grand Canyon via New Mexico and Arizona, the Grand Canyon to Colorado via Utah, stay in Colorado with family for a few days, run the race, put Jason on a plane home for work, continue on to Wyoming and then Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota to Minnesota, Minnesota to Michigan via Wisconsin and the U.P. Oh, and did I mention we bought a camper? Just a little pop-up that did nothing more than tightly accommodating all seven of us for sleep. And did I also mention that we've never camped before? And that we planned to hit the road and just find a place to set up for the nights as our days progressed? The whole thing sounded slightly crazy to not only us, but to our friends and family. But hey, we were all excited for what these two weeks of adventure would hold.

 We made it to Colorado safe and sound and ready to sleep in real beds for a few days. I had the chance to run up a smaller mountain along the way with Jason, as well as get a couple of runs in above 5000 feet. Two days prior to the race, Jason and I also achieved our goal of summitting a 14er when we conquered Mount Bierstadt near Denver.

 On the morning of Day 9 of our road trip, race day was here. I felt under-prepared. I knew what I needed for a 50k at 800 feet above sea level, but things were different in Colorado. Pikes Peak 50k started at 6,100 feet and ascended to 11,376 feet. Storms rolled in in these mountains almost without warning and nearly every afternoon. In our short time in Colorado we had watched the storms pour rain accompanied by thunder and lightning every afternoon onto the surrounding mountains. I had also learned from our summit, that the temperatures at the base of the mountains was much different than the temperatures near the tops. Would I freeze to death in shorts and a tank top? Should I take a jacket? Wear pants? As I headed to packet pickup that morning, I noted that shorts and tank tops seemed the most popular options, and I calmed myself a bit.

 I headed to the start line and met up with my friend, Tracy. This was her first ultra, but being a super-fast road runner and with all of her trail training in the mountains this summer, I knew she'd crush this race. We met on Instagram, which led to Facebook, but this was our first "real life" meeting!

 As we waited for the race to begin, the RD reminded us to follow the blue flags, and to be courteous to the mountain bikers. In her words, "The mountain bikers can ride really far, really fast, and if you make them angry they can remove many flags in a very short period of time and you will be very lost." WELL THAT'S COMFORTING.

 And then we were off! Tracy took off ahead of me and I knew I wouldn't see her again, but I found myself in the middle of a tightly packed group of runners my speed as we followed the narrow trail away from the starting line. There was casual conversation among friends as well as introductions between people from across the country. He was from Nebraska, she was from Texas, he was from Oregon. I chuckled a little as I overheard two guys talking in front of me when one of them said how much he despised Ironman triathletes and their egos to the other guy who had an Ironman tattoo on his calf. We continued to run until the trail opened up to a paved road. Here we could spread out a little and find our groove. I met a girl from Seattle who had just finished hiking the entire Colorado trail from south to north three days prior and an older man who was planning to take five months next year to hike the entire AT. People amaze me!

Soon the pavement turned to dirt and things got slower. The trail wasn't overwhelmingly steep, but it did seem to go on for an eternity. I'm talking some 18 minute miles in there.

 We went up...

 And up...

 And up...

 And up...

 And then some steeper UP...

 Until some of the mountain tops seemed to be at eye level... 

But then there was still more up...

 Finally we passed through a small gate which separated the service road we had been on from the actual trail.

 And then, THEN, after about five miles of climbing, there was sweet release. A rolling downhill trail! We were all eager to put the last stretch behind us and get some real running in. We were FLYING! The trail was steep enough that you just had to let your legs go and pray they could keep up with the rest of your body. I felt amazing and free and smiled and laughed the whole way down.

 There was a slight pause when Mr. Idontlikeironman tripped and came to a skidding stop right in front of me. He cursed and got up and brushed himself off while Mr. Ironmantattoo helped him gather himself. He didn't seem injured, but his whole arm and shoulder was bloody from trail rash. When he was ready, we all took off again down the trail and soon enough we arrived at the first aid station around 7.6 miles in.

 Man, that was a looooong start! An hour and forty minutes to travel less than eight miles?! It was going to be a long day. I quickly got some water and grabbed a peanut butter and banana quesadilla and I was on my way, walking as I ate.

 Soon, I was running again and saw a cool tunnel ahead of me!

 As I approached, though, I was informed that the trail went to the left just before it, and I wouldn't be going through that tunnel, but the reward was worth it.

 The trail was amazing! Mountain on my right side, steep drop offs to my left, and Colorado Springs waaaaay down below!

 The trail wound round the mountains and every turn led to more beauty and I felt lucky to be spending the day in this wonderland.

 I did, however, have to keep reminding myself to not look down!

 By Mile 11, I had come through the second aid station, where I grabbed some water and food and my token orange picture and was on my way once again.

Audio Link 1

 Ahead of me was the Seven Bridges section of the course. The road leading into it was straight and flat and filled with families and day hikers and it was nice to see a little bit of civilization at this point! The runners had really spread out and I couldn't see anyone ahead of me now.

 The wide road narrowed and led me into the woods. This part of the course was different from any other. It was filled with huge boulders and rivers and waterfalls and, of course, seven bridges! It was challenging, and filled with flies, but it was deep and dark and a welcome relief from the scorching sunshine I had been through.

Audio Link 2

 When I had made my way out of the Seven Bridges, it was time to climb some more. The boulders and the river and the coolness were gone, and in their place was the scariest part of the race for me. The trail wound up and around the mountain, with only enough space for your feet. This section was fully in the sun, and the terrain made it feel like the desert. Every bug sounded like the rattle of a snake, the flies were relentless, making stopping for any reason impossible, and the drop to my left would ensure death. Let's not forget my fear of heights, SHALL WE?! Combined with all of that business, the trail continued upward.

 When I say "trail", I mean that loosely. There were occasional blue flags, but the rockiest sections were pretty much a find-your-own-way-to-the-top-of-these-boulders trail. Somehow I had to get from where I was to waaaay up to where you see those people up there.

 When I finally got to the top, I must've looked like a maniac. They were local day hikers and I was clearly NOT. I told them I was trying not to have a panic attack and they coolly told me to "just keep going and don't look down!" GOT IT. Easy for them to say...

 All I could think about was how glad that section was behind me and how much I was looking forward to the aid station in the next mile. That's when I came across this guy.

 First of all, it was strange to run into him where I did, especially since he was running AT me. Where had he even come from? He asked if this was my first time running this race and I said yes and he asked how far they had told me the aid station was from the last one. I told him they had told me it was four miles and he just shook his head. He said he had run it the last two years, and even though an aid station was listed at the four mile mark, I'd have to get to Mount Rosa before there would be aid. "How far is THAT?" He told me it was about 3.5 more miles and my heart sank. I was nearly out of water and drenched with sweat and 3.5 miles seemed like a lifetime. He wished me luck and we continued our separate ways. I downed a quick gel, crossed a cool stream, and then I had work to do.

 Ahead of me was more uphill climbing.

 A LOT of uphill climbing.

 I was moving so slowly. I'm talking 25-30 minute miles. It was hard.  But as slow as I was moving, I was still passing people from time to time.  One man had come to a complete standstill on one of steepest parts of this climb.  He was dizzy and a little disoriented and a group of us gave him salt and water and got him moving again.  I had to keep stopping, too, on this section.  I just couldn't catch my breath.  I was so hot and I felt like I could chug a gallon of water.  WHERE was the next aid station?

To my dismay, just after Mile 15, the sky turned very dark and the temperature dropped about 15 degrees very quickly. I was sure a storm was coming. Just what I needed! Ugh.  Hopping over another little stream and some more climbing along the side of the mountain and I was begging for a break.

Finally, there in the distance, RELIEF!

Coming into the aid station around Mile 16.5, I felt like I had been through a war.  From the looks of those around me, I wasn't the only one.  There were many runners just standing around, a few had plopped down on the ground, three were violently vomiting their guts out, and one man was shaking uncontrollably and his lips were blue.  This place was the opposite of refreshing!  While I was there, I heard at least a handful of runners say they were ready to drop.  The aid station captain had to make an announcement:  WE ARE VERY FAR FROM ANY ROAD ACCESS.  I WOULD ADVISE AGAINST DROPPING AT THIS POINT, AS YOU WILL LIKELY SIT HERE UNTIL DARK WHEN SOMEONE CAN GET YOU OFF THE MOUNTAIN.  I RECOMMEND EATING AND DRINKING IF YOU ARE ABLE AND ATTEMPTING TO CONTINUE YOUR RACE.  Several people looked helpless, but some actually got their heads out of their behinds and got ready to go.  Me?  I drank a ton of water and refilled my pack, ate some Nutella and bananas wrapped in tortillas, and stuffed a Snickers bar in my pocket for later. And then I got out of there! Whew!

The trail out of that aid station was quite nice!  It wound downhill and I thought I was feeling pretty good, despite having taken nearly five hours to go 16.5 miles.

Audio Link 3

After that, I began the REAL climb up Mount Rosa.  I had thought my previous tough climb was it, but boy, was I wrong.  The climb quickly went from dry, smooth, desert-like trails to rocks and boulders that required much more concentration.

Luckily, I stumbled upon a younger guy who seemed to be a mountain goat!  He was from the area and ran these trails often, even with FEET of snow on them!  I think he was some sort of guardian angel for me.  He talked constantly as we climbed, telling stories of his adventures.  I responded occasionally with a grunt or a laugh, which was all I could muster as the elevation got higher and higher.  When I needed to take a break, he'd stop and pretend to tie his shoe or take a picture, even though I knew he was only letting me take my time.

Up and up we climbed, as the trail got skinnier and skinnier.  We passed runners who had already made it to the top and were headed back down and onward, all of whom told us we were "almost there."  After being "almost there" for over a mile, we were actually almost there.

And then we were there.  11,499 feet.  And it was GLORIOUS.

The top was small and flat and a runner had set up a little picnic for himself up there.  My mountain goat friend and I took photos of each other and of the amazing views and everyone was silent.  There were just no words to describe the beauty.

Before leaving, we had to use a marker that had been left to draw a heart on our bib.  This ensured no one cut the course and skipped the summit of Mount Rosa.  With our hearts on our bibs, we headed back down, as still more runners were making their way to the top.  After the first small section of rocks, my guardian angel had let loose, and I am assuming literally flew down the mountain.  I was happy for the guidance he had given me and I was happy he was on his own path now.

Down I went.  Down and more down.  I made my way out of the rockiest section of descent and headed in search of the next aid station.  Across the dry, desert-like trail I ran, as I assured other runners on their way up that they were "almost there."

After nearly 20 miles of climbing, I was really ready to let loose and RUN.  I had been salivating for the downhill portion of this race and it was here.  Much to my dismay, I didn't get to let loose.  Although I was able to run a bit, this section was filled with loose rocks and gravel and roots of all sizes, and taking a big fall at this point in the game was the last thing I wanted.

Just after Mile 21, I came to aid station HEAVEN.  The atmosphere here was much more relaxed and inviting and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.  And the food?  The food was a-maz-ing.  Tons of fresh fruit, pancakes, bacon, and pineapple wrapped in bacon.  I completely gorged myself and didn't feel the least bit guilty!

After that, I was feeling quite refreshed and the trail became much more runnable.  After moving at a slow crawl for the last few hours, it felt so good to get my legs moving at a faster pace.  The trail wove down and around the mountain, and there was something new to see at every turn.

I was constantly in awe of this beautiful nature and just felt so grateful to be enjoying it.  I passed several people during these downhill miles-I just let my legs go and made my body keep up with them!  I got a few crazy looks from some of the runners who looked like they couldn't wait to get to the finish line, but this is what I had come here for: to run in the mountains.  I wanted to get my money's worth.

The trail kept winding down and around  and it seemed much more gradual than the sharp climbs I had made going up the mountain earlier in the day.  Finally, the trail dumped me back out onto the service road that led to the final aid station.  It was wide and flat and once again I saw families and hikers out enjoying the sunny day.

I was feeling pretty amazing, and Mile 25 was actually the fastest mile of my day!

I arrived at the last aid station with a smile on my face.  I remember there was a volunteer there who was recording me as I ran up to the tent and she must've thought I was a little crazy!  I ate a bunch of watermelon and grabbed more Nutella and banana wraps, thanked them all, and began the one mile climb to the top of Bear Creek.

Audio Link 4

As I headed up the last long climb, I took one last look behind me.  It had been such an amazing day, but it was almost over.

The climb continued, but with views like this, I didn't mind the slow pace which allowed me to take it all in.

As soon as I made it to the top of that last climb, I heard thunder.  And it wasn't off in the distance.  It was close.  I glanced up at the mountains I had just been in and saw dark clouds coming in from the backside.  I was very grateful to be heading down once again, and away from the approaching storm.

Through the small gate and it was literally all downhill from here.

The road was wide and had an easy downward spiral and I was flying. I couldn't see anyone in front of me or behind me.  Every so often I'd glance up to the higher peaks around me to see the clouds growing darker and darker.  I was thankful to not be up there, but worried for those who were.  My mountain goat friend had warned me that getting caught in one of these storms with their torrential rain, wind, lightning and severe temperature drops could be downright dangerous.

My legs still felt really good and I continued down the mountain.  I hadn't seen a blue flag in quite some time, but wasn't really concerned since there hadn't been any other way to go!  I decided that I should probably keep my eye open for a course marker.  I didn't want to get lost just three miles from the finish!

The storm was getting closer and closer now and I could smell the rain.  It was coming.  And the wind was picking up.  No time to waste now!  Where were the course markers?

Another crack of thunder made me quicken my pace even further and I hadn't seen a blue flag in FOREVER.  The storm was so close now, and I hadn't seen another runner for over an hour, and I decided that lost or not, I needed to get off of this mountain.  Down was the only way I was going to go-there would be no turning around.

Ahead of me I could see a gate.  As I quickly approached it, there it was:A BLUE FLAG.  Relief flooded through me.  A quick turn and I was on pavement, with light, sprinkling rain coming down.

Blue flag, THUNDER, rain.  Blue flag, THUNDER, more rain.  Blue flag, THUNDER, more rain.  The pavement led to a single track trail and I knew this was the home stretch.  But, wait.  My watch said 29 miles.  Only 29?  I still had two miles to go?  And now my watch warned me that it was about to die.  I had to hurry.

The single track led me out of the forest and into a wide open field.  This was not good.  The storm was HERE and there was nowhere to hide. With every clap of thunder, the wind got stronger and the rain fell harder.  Every time I thought it couldn't rain any harder, it proved me wrong.  Thunder, lightning, wind, rain.  I was sprinting.  I kept telling myself that with all the mountains around me, the lightning wouldn't waste its time coming down to get ME.  I kept running, but I was freezing.  The rain was icy and the wind wasn't helping matters.  I was once again thankful to have made it out of the mountains before this storm had hit.

Ahead of me I saw a runner.  To my amazement, it was Mr. Ironmantattoo!  After a whole day in the mountains, we were about to finish the race at nearly the same time!  He wasn't moving very well, but I cheered him on as I passed him and set my mind on the finish.  GET ME OUT OF THIS STORM!  And then I could see it!  The weather was so terrible, everyone was huddled under one small tent. As I crossed the finish line, one volunteer came running out to put my medal around my neck.  After taking nine hours and fifteen minutes to travel 31 miles, I had earned that medal.

I was soaked through to my bones, and I was exhausted from sprinting the last six miles, but I had done it.

I conquered my fears, I met some amazing people, I climbed mountains and saw the views from the tops.  I finished what I had come here to do, and I was proud.