Race Recap: 2018 Mohican 50

One year ago, I ran my first 50 mile ultramarathon: The Mohican Trail 50. It was the most difficult, most painful thing I had ever done in my life. I spent the final 15 miles of that race walking, and moving slower than walking, and telling myself this was the dumbest thing I had ever attempted. I called my husband when it was over and told him that, no matter what I said, he was not allowed to let me sign up for another 50 miler ever again.

  By the next morning, I knew I had to do it again.

In July, 2017, I ran Grand Island 50k for the second time.  In August, after hearing about a 50 mile race here in Michigan called North Country, I registered.  I had a whole year to get ready for it, and a busy fall racing season quickly approaching.  In September, I ran Ragnar Michigan as a member of a 12-person team.  In October, I traveled to Washington D.C. to run the Marine Corps Marathon.  When it was over, I was burned OUT.  I needed a break.  I ran barely 50 miles in November, and in December, there was a period of two weeks when I didn't run at all.

And then, my favorite podcast, East Coast Trail and Ultra, announced that they were hosting a live episode where listeners could call in and ask questions and they'd be giving away some free race entries.  While I sat at my daughter's gymnastics practice, I dialed.  And redialed.  In fact, I dialed nearly 300 times.  And then, Ryan answered the phone.  Holy shit!  My question?  How do I transition from running a 50 miler to running a 100 miler?  After they gave me some advice on training and nutrition, they told me that they only had ten free race entries and I was the eleventh caller.  Boooooo.  But then, Sean piped in and said if I was interested in running a 100 miler in 2018, he'd give me a free entry to the Chattanooga 100.  And I said yes.  Merry Christmas to me!

My thoughts started spinning.  100 miles?  Had I lost my mind?  I knew I had a lot of work to do.  Not running, particularly during the holiday season, had caused me to gain nearly 20 pounds.  Plus, I had never run more than 50 miles and I was still a little shell-shocked from that!  I decided that North Country 50 in August wouldn't be enough to prepare me, and Mohican started whispering.  Before long, I knew I had to go back. 

I decided to make Mohican my springtime goal race, and training began in February.  I spent most of January running in the snow and ice and subzero temperatures of Michigan, but in February I got down to business.  In March, I paced a friend at the Martian Half Marathon in Dearborn, Michigan, in April I attended Trail Weekend in Pinckney, Michigan and ran both the half and full marathon races, and in May, I ran the Tie Dye 50k in Ohio. 

Just like that, my Mohican 50 weekend was here.  I had run in snow, wind, ice, humidity, heat, and rain.  I had trained on trails and dirt roads and even a little pavement.  I had managed to drop more than 15 pounds and had focused on nutrition.  I felt ready for anything. 

Friday night at Mohican is a bit of a family reunion.  While there are always new runners, many runners return year after year for this race.  There is a 1,000 mile club for those who have run the Mohican 100 at least 10 times, and one man, Ron Ross, has completed the 100 miler 22 times!  I found my friend, Leanne, who would be attempting the 100 mile course, and we talked strategy and logistics and about how this race has such a great vibe. 

After the race meeting, where we were given last minute instructions and advice, I headed back to my hotel.  It was time for a final check of my gear to make sure I was ready for the morning.

I crawled into bed around 9:30 and texted a little bit with my daughter before bed.  I most definitely did have a busy Saturday planned!

My alarm went off at 3:50am on race day.  After a very limited taper week leading up to the race, I was ready for some MILES.  I navigated the windy roads to Mohican State Park in the dark, and soon there was  growing trail of taillights all headed to the start line.  After parking, I headed to the starting area.  Except I wasn't exactly sure where that was. Soon there were several of us standing together, not sure which direction we should go.  Finally, we made a group decision to follow a paved camp road and around a little bend, we found it.  I applied a little extra last minute bug spray, left my drop bag in the designated area, and headed over to chat with racers before the start.  It was different this year for me-I wasn't the new kid, I was the veteran.  And while many of the runners were nervous and anxious, I just felt calm and excited.  I wasn't going into this race thinking about running 50 miles.  I was running to the first aid station.  And then I'd run to the next one. I thought if I broke the race down into 4-7 mile stretches, it would be very doable. 

The race director came over the loudspeaker and announced that he had good news:  It wasn't going to be 88 degrees as it had been predicted, it was only going be 82 degrees.  Oh great!  That is MUCH cooler!  SHOULD I BRING A JACKET?  A quick pre-race photo and then we all shuffled in close to the start line, he said go, and we were off!

The early morning was comfortable, and we quickly fell into a long line on the single track that leads into the woods.  I was moving a little slower than I would have liked, but now that I have a little experience under my belt, I knew better than to complain.  I knew in the later stages of the race I'd be happy to be moving at this pace!  The first four miles flew by, and just like that I came to Gorge Overlook, the first aid station. 

I still had plenty of water and wasn't ready for food yet, so I took my token orange slice picture and continued on my way.  "See ya in 27 miles!"

I think having that first aid station so early is great, because it really helps break up the tight pack of runners and I could finally stretch out a little and have more control over my pace.  The terrain was filled with rocks and roots and we joked that we were sure the forest was beautiful if we could take our eyes off the trail long enough to look at it without tripping and falling!

A short four miles later, I came to the second aid station: Fire Tower.  I decided to grab a couple of pb&j squares and had my pack filled a little.  The next aid station would be six miles away and it was already starting to warm up out there.

 I was excited for the next section because I would descend down into the canyon and feel the water falling from above.  It was much cooler down there and everyone was taking pictures and standing in the waterfall.  I remember last year when I left this area, thinking that I would never again see this little spot, and here I was back in it the very next year. 

After some steep climbing back up out of the canyon, I went back down this looooong wooden staircase.

And then watched a couple fly fishing in the river.

I was still feeling good, running at a slow but comfortable pace, when I passed a group of people walking on a flat section of the course.  We were probably only at Mile 13, and I found it  little offensive when he called me stupid for running.  Maybe I thought he was a little stupid for walking on a flat section so early in a race!  I kept up my pace and he was soon far behind me. 

The next aid station was Covered Bridge.  This one always reminds me of a little oasis tucked into the trees down by the river.  I tend to linger a little longer than I should at this one because the next section is a difficult one.  I had my pack filled and again snacked on pb&j squares, drank a little ginger ale, and took off. 

It was seven miles to the next aid station and it was filled with a ton of climbing.  I was pleasantly surprised that I was getting uphill quite easily and was able to take the downhills much quicker than last year.  I passed several people during this section and even stopped to say hello to the little gnome friends who watch us pass.

I came into the Hickory Ridge aid station at Mile 20 and was still feeling really good. 

I spent almost no time here at all, just had my pack filled and once again grabbed a couple of pb&j squares.  It was just seven miles until the first loop was finished and I was looking forward to having that under my belt.  My quads were feeling slightly fatigued, but I was in good spirits and took a little time to goof around all by myself. 

I can't tell you what a strange feeling it is to be cruising down a single track trail all by yourself and feel sad that you've already run almost 27 miles and you only have 23 miles left to go.  I mean, I was seriously getting emotional about it!

Around 12:30pm, I finished the first loop, where I hit the aid station for some more pb&j squares, a few orange slices and had my pack refilled.  I dug through my drop bag and found and reapplied my bug spray, and then sat for just a minute to gather myself.  I had planned on changing socks and maybe shoes, but everything felt good and I didn't want to mess with it.  It was getting pretty warm by this point, and some of the runners looked downright HOT, but I felt that I was managing quite well. 

So, off I went, through the campground, across the bridge and back onto the trails.

I didn't see anyone for the first mile or so, and then I passed a couple of runners.  After that, it was pretty quiet, and in no time at all I was approaching Gorge Overlook for the second time.

This aid station was where I just about lost it last year.  I had stumbled my way into it, begged for a chair and threw myself down.  I was at a very low point and the nicest aid station volunteer had talked me into resting and having something to eat and then I reluctantly had gotten back to my feet and headed out.  THIS year, I trotted in, grabbed a pb&j square, waved, and trotted right back out with a smile on my face. I was feeling good.

There were just four miles to the Fire Tower aid station.  The miles were flying by and I was still running the flats and downhills and getting up the climbs pretty easily.  Where was everyone?  Why wasn't anyone passing me?  On occasion, I came up behind a runner, but they'd quickly step aside and I'd thank them and keep on trucking.  I was now starting to pass not only the 50 mile runners, but some 100 mile runners, who had started an hour earlier than me, and also some marathoners, who had started their race at noon.  I was vaguely aware that I was waiting to blow up.  I was 34 miles into a 50 mile race and I couldn't believe that aside from a couple slight falls, my race was going very well.  I knew that at Fire Tower, the 100 mile runners would continue on to complete their second 27 mile loop, while the 50 mile runners would veer off on our shorter 23 mile loop.  I guess I wasn't thinking, but when I asked how far it was to the next aid station and was told it was 2.5 miles away, my jaw dropped.  Just 2.5 miles to Covered Bridge?!  Sweeeeet!  Again I grabbed a couple pb&j squares and headed off to the right, alone, while the 100 milers carried on straight ahead.  This part of the course is very quiet and the trails are fairly tight.  I didn't see another soul the entire time, and if I hadn't been very consciously following the orange flags, I would've thought I was on the wrong path.  At one point, the trail seems to end where trees and their roots cover the path, followed by a steep drop off, but down I went!

Once down below, the trail follows a little stream and there are multiple wooden bridges and stone-covered paths to cross.  It is very scenic and peaceful and is one of my favorite parts of the course.  Soon I could hear traffic from above, and after a little climb, Covered Bridge, the little oasis, was in sight.

Right away a volunteer grabbed my pack from me and while he refilled it, I had some orange slices and more pb&j slices.  There were plenty of other options but that's what sounded good to me and I stuck with it.  My quads were starting to become noticeable, but my feet felt great and my mind was in a good place.  I was ready for that long climb leaving Covered Bridge.

Almost right away, I came up behind a 100 mile runner.  He was hiking the climbs and running the downs and he was going slightly slower than I would have preferred, but I decided to follow him awhile.  We approached another 100 mile runner who was clearly struggling and going much slower, and while he let the man in front of me pass, he cut me off and wouldn't let me by.  I tried several times to pass and every time he'd speed up just to stay ahead of me.  I was annoyed.  Within a half mile, there was a lineup behind this guy.  We were all annoyed.  Finally, he stepped aside, pretended to tie his shoe and I blew past him.  Those miles were my slowest of the race and I wasn't happy about it.  I decided to pick it up a little bit, as I was feeling pretty good still, and soon I was alone again on the trail.  This section is filled with tons of roots, so I made sure to pay attention.  I didn't want a bad fall this late in the race!

I once again ran past the forest gnomes up on the ridge and then descended again.  It was thundering now and I couldn't think of anything better than an afternoon storm.  It was hot and humid and I almost felt sorry for the people out for a hike through the park.  The thunder continued for nearly an hour, but no rain fell.  Such a tease.  And then, just like that, I was running into Hickory Ridge aid station.  Running!  I had my pack refilled and grabbed my final pb&j squares and knew that in seven short miles I'd be crossing that finish line.

The first half of this section is so green and so beautiful it almost doesn't seem real. 

I was soaking these last few miles in.  I was starting to feel tired, but not overly so.  I passed a few 100 milers and 50 milers on these trails, and many marathoners.  This was definitely a difficult marathon course and I think it got the best of more than a few runners.  And then I was running through the campground, waving at kids wearing shirts that said "Make today GREAT!" and "SHINE" and was a little sad my kids weren't there to be a part of this.  But I gave some high-fives and continued on.  Up a long, climbing road, and down around the lake, and then, THERE IT WAS!

I turned left and headed toward the finish line.  I kept looking behind me for anyone approaching.  I didn't want to be passed at this point!  I had gone the whole loop without being passed and I was willing to fight for my position. But no one came.  I was holding back the tears as I made the final turns and headed for the finish line.  I had done it. 50 miles.  And I had done it well. 

After last year's finish time of 14.52:23, My goal for this year was to finish in 13 hours.  With a finish time of 12:39:04, I had surpassed my goal.  I had done two loops through Mohican State Park, and had taken the elevation in stride.

And then?  Then all I wanted to do was sit down.  So I sat.  For a long time.  I stared at my disgusting legs and feet.

I snuggled with a very friendly dog who didn't mind that I smelled horrendously.

Fun fact: They purchased 22 kegs of beer for this race weekend.  It only seemed right that I should muster the strength to get up and go get one.  So I did.  And then I sat right back down.

I watched the leaders have their pictures taken up on the podium.  I even saw one female holding a bag attached to an IV who had placed in the Top 5.  You thought I was kidding when I said it was hot, didn't you?  I watched more finishers come in.  I watched people dunk themselves fully clothed into ice baths.  And, in case you're wondering, a 50 mile race is over 98,000 steps.  Ha!

And then, just like that, it was over.  I needed a shower, I needed some food, I needed to sleep, and then I needed to get home.  The next day was Father's Day and it was filled with family.  And there was one little guy who had missed his mama. 

People always ask me how I'm able to run long distances like this.  They also ask me why I run long distances like this.  How do I run ultras?  I train for them.  And I will continue to train for them to better myself.  I put in the work.  Why do I run ultras?  I have seen beautiful places on my runs-places that can't be seen by car, or even in pictures.  To truly see a place, I believe you have to be IN it; you have to experience it firsthand.  So, why do I run ultras?  What's better than spending a day in the woods?  I can't think of many things.  There was just one race photo that was posted of me, but it's the only one I need.  This is me, 18 miles into this 50 mile race, just a little while after a man had told me I was stupid, and I was having a complete BLAST. 

Race Recap: Tie Dye 50k

I think I can officially say "I drank the water."  If I wasn't absolutely sure before this race, I can now say, without a doubt, that I am 100% addicted to trail running.

By January of this year, I had already scheduled two races: a 50 miler in August and the looming 100 miler in November.  I was casually looking around for a few more races to fill my schedule.  I decided I would make a return to the Mohican 50 miler, and my training schedule called for a 50k race in mid-May.  I stumbled upon a little race in Yellow Springs, Ohio that piqued my interest.  Two trail loops through John Bryan State Park with about 2,000 feet of gain, and a price tag of just $45? SOLD.  The Tie Dye 50k seemed like the perfect training run/race for me.

Three weekends prior I had completed the "No Wimps Challenge" at the Pinckney Trail Weekend, including both a half and full marathon on back to back days, and my body hurt for a good four days after that weekend.  This is pretty normal for me after a race and when I felt ready I laced up my shoes to get ready for the Tie Dye 50k.

As the race drew closer, I discovered that my friend, Leanne, would be there (yay!) and also my cousin's wife's cousin, Todd, would be there, running his first 50k, and I was looking forward to meeting him.  Then it was time to hit the road-a girls' trip, accompanied by my mom and two daughters, to stay with my aunt and uncle and family for the weekend.  The night before the race, we were scheduled to attend a pasta dinner benefit for my cousin who is planning a trip to Quito with her church group-the perfect meal for me!

And then it was race day!  Leanne and Todd happened to pull in within minutes of me and we all coincidentally parked together.  After packet pickup we chatted and gathered our gear, applied lube and sunscreen, and snapped a few pre-race photos.

After that, we headed to the start area for some last minute instructions and info about the course: watch out for the fallen tree with poison ivy on it at Mile 3, follow the orange flags which would be on our right side throughout the race, and the location of aid stations along the course.

There was a quick countdown from 5 to 1 and then we all headed out.  No fanfare, no gun, no starting timing mat.  Just go.  And we did.  The fastest runners took off in a hurry, and quite a few of us mid-packers fell into a line as we navigated the single track trail.  There didn't seem to be many ups and downs, and I was following a long string of runners.  I felt that I could've gone a little faster, but held back because I knew there was a lot of race to go.

Just past Mile 6, we climbed a short hill and came around a corner to find a group of runners stopped.  Standing still.  They were lost.  And so were we.

When had I seen the last orange flag?  I couldn't remember.  I had just been following along with everyone else!  Come to find out, a few of those stopped runners had gone nearly three miles in the wrong direction.  We decided to backtrack a little bit and eventually ended up on a main park road.  And when I say "we", I mean there were about 40 of us.  40 people standing in the middle of the road, not sure where to go.  WHERE WAS THE TRAIL?!  We ran in one direction down the road, stopped, turned around, and ran the other direction down the road.  Nope, must be back the other way, and we headed back again in the other direction.

Finally, someone came along who had run the course before and herded us all across a parking lot and back into the woods.  And there was an orange flag!  How did we even get here?  And how did so many of us miss a turn on the trail?!  This was a first for me.  Anyway, I was glad to be headed in the right direction once again, and began navigating a rockier trail that was gradually descending down into the forest.  And then it started raining.  It was a light rain and I didn't really mind it since it was already a warm day and the humidity had been at 100% since the start of the race.  I finally made it down to the bottom of the forest and the skinny trail led me along the Little Miami River, which cuts through this state park.  Off in the distance I could see the runners who were ahead of me and I couldn't wait to navigate this section of the course!

It was rocky, and rooty, and there was often no trail at all, but this was my favorite part of the course.  The runners had really spread out by this point, and I didn't have anyone right behind me, urging me onward, which was nice.  I wanted to take it all in.

The trail followed the river for a while and finally took a turn to the right and the climb up and away began.  There were some gradual switchbacks and a few steep climbs, but the rain was still light and the trail wasn't too slippery.  YET.  This part of the course was a bit more challenging and I was quite happy when things leveled off and the first aid station came into view.  The aid station volunteers told me I was at Mile 9, but my GPS watch read 10.31.  Crap.  I had gone more than a mile out of my way when I had gotten lost.  I grabbed a couple of pb&j squares and some orange slices and headed out on a little four mile loop that would bring me right back to this aid station.  This loop started down a wide road and then quickly veered off onto a tight single track trail filled with short climbs and descents and a few minor stream crossings.  At the very back of the loop I was high above the river and I could see a gorgeous waterfall.

And then BAM.  I was on the ground.  I guess that's what I get for not paying attention!  I wasn't hurt, and luckily no one was around to see me fall, but I was covered in mud.  I kept running and came upon a small, clean-ish stream where I took a moment to rinse my hands and knees off and then I was on the go again.

As I headed back to the aid station, the sky got darker and I heard a rumble of thunder.  Do they postpone ultras for storms?  I didn't know.  I arrived back to the aid station in the rain, and you'd think it was sunny and 75 degrees.  The volunteers were filling packs and making sandwiches and offering words of support to all of us and there was no mention of the storm.  OK THEN!  3.5 miles and I'd be back to the start/finish aid station before heading out on my second loop.  I had met up with a couple of ladies at the aid station who had also gone off track like I had and I followed them for the next couple of miles.  This section of the course had a lot of steep climbs and sharp downhills, and things were starting to get a bit slippery with the constant rain, but the ladies were talkative and the distraction was a welcome one in those conditions.

When we got about a mile from the aid station, they stopped for a break and I pushed onward.  I was completely drenched at this point and was beginning to calculate in my head how long the second loop would take me now that everything was getting so slippery.  I finally got to the start/finish aid station, which was Mile 16-ish, and dried off enough to text my mom and aunt that I had one loop to go.  They were planning on being there for the finish with my daughters and I didn't want them to wait too long for me.  I again snacked on a couple of pb&j squares and took my obligatory orange slice photo.

There weren't many runners in the aid station area and I had to ask a volunteer which way to go to head out on the second loop, as there was no one to follow.  So, I headed out solo, in the rain, for loop two.  I was only minorly muddy at this point and I snapped a quick pic.

After a short distance, I was back on the single track trail for the second time.  I was completely alone and the dry, rocky trail was now filled with unavoidable puddles and mud and it felt like an entirely new course.  It had stopped raining and I was feeling good.  I decided to pick up the pace a little bit.

 I ran along through the mud, thinking how strange it was that there were no people around.  I came to Mile 19 and again hopped over the fallen tree with poison ivy and kept on running.  Finally I could see someone up ahead.  I passed her shortly, and another woman not long after that, and then I was alone again.  It was getting darker and there was another rumble of thunder and then it started to rain again.  Except this time, it was POURING.  I mean, it was raining so hard that it felt like it was coming up from underneath.  And I was having a blast!  My shoes couldn't have been filled with more water, the mud on the trail was so thick it was like running with suction cups on, and I was having the time of my life!  I was ticking off the miles effortlessly and passed a couple more people, but the trail was mostly quiet.  When I got about five and half miles into this loop, I started paying attention.  I didn't want to get lost again.  Orange flag, orange flag, running, orange flag, so far so good, orange flag, running and running, orange flag, running and running and running...where was the next flag?  It must be around the next corner.  Or maybe the next corner.  Had I missed a turn?  I didn't think so.  And running, and running.  And no more orange flags.  SHIT!  At this point, I had gone too far to turn back and I knew I'd be to that main road again shortly.  And there it was.  And I felt like an idiot.  I had once again added over a mile to my route.  So I grudgingly ran up the road, and over the parking lot, and ducked back into the woods and onto the trail and back to the land of orange flags.  Still, I had no idea how I had missed the turn TWICE!  Ugh.  At least I was among some runners now.  I stuck with a group of guys as we headed down the rocky trail towards the river once again.  Everything was slippery and muddy now and the downhills needed some extra attention unless you were interested in taking a very fast detour to the bottom!  By the time I got back down to the river, the rain had stopped.  It was cooler down here and there was a slight breeze and I got to traverse the trail along the river all alone and it was amazing.  When the trail turned inward and upward once again, I started passing hikers and walkers out enjoying the park, now that the rain was finished.  The leader of the groups would usually yell out "ANOTHER RUNNER" and they'd all stand to the side to let me pass.  Near the top of the first climb I heard, "HERE COMES ONE WITH PIGTAILS AND SHE'S A CUTE ONE!"  Gah! Get me out of here, I thought!  And then it was smooth sailing into the next aid station.  I said, "Are there any other runners out here?  I haven't seen anyone in miles!"  They laughed and assured me that I was not truly alone.  So, I headed out on that quick four mile loop and made a mental note to not look at the waterfall when I got there.  I didn't want to fall again!  I try to limit myself to falling only once per race!  After about two miles into the short loop, I ran out of water.  Why hadn't I refilled it at the aid station?  Not smart.  And then my watch started beeping at me-it was about to die.  Perfect.  Oh well, I only had about four or so miles until the finish.  I could get some water on my way back through the aid station and I could go without GPS to the finish.  Before I finished that short loop, I passed a guy walking.  I asked if he was ok to which he responded, "I'm out of water, my watch and phone both died and WHERE IS THE AID STATION?"  I tried not to laugh, and said the same thing had happened to me and assured him that the aid station was less than a mile away.  As I left that loop I noticed a gorgeous old tree just standing there, watching us all pass by.

I quickly refilled my water at the aid station and headed for the finish.  Just three more miles.  I knew they weren't the easiest three miles of the course, but I was feeling good still.  This was so weird to me!  Usually, the last five miles of a 50k are horrid for me and all I want is for the race to be OVER.  But today?  Today I was loving every  minute of it.  I climbed the hills and slid down the muddy descents and kept on running.  I could hear voices every now and then on the switchback portions, but I never saw another runner in those last few miles.  With just a mile to go, the trail opened up into a grassy field area, where there is a pavilion.  It was packed with people and it was very quiet.  Just as I ran by, I heard a minister say, "You may kiss the bride!" and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.  I guess I timed that right!  And then I was in the homestretch. Another short climb and a few twists and turns and I could see my family in the distance.  I ran towards them, and as I left the forest and headed for the finish, there were cheers and clapping and high fives from my loved ones.

I crossed the finish line in 7:13.55 and was the 6th female to finish.  Not bad considering I had run two (much to my dismay) extra miles because I had gotten lost!  I was completely drenched, from rain and sweat and other disgustingness, I'm sure, and was sooooo muddy.

But still, I felt good.  I had felt good the entire race.  I was happy with the outcome and I think it was good mental preparation for the Mohican 50.  This was my elevation chart from the TieDye 50k.

It pales in comparison to the climbs I will be facing at Mohican, but for me to run this 50k with the ease that I did, is a hug confidence boost. 

I met up again with Todd and Leanne after the race and we shared our tales of adventure with each other.  I cannot say enough good things about the trail running community.  There is nothing like sharing a day in the woods with runners who tell their stories and share their tips and tricks and leave you with little pieces of themselves.  And to have an actual cheering section waiting for me at the finish?  Well, that's definitely a first. They definitely motivated me to finish strong and give my best effort and I am thankful they were there. 

So what comes after a 50k?  Well, I cleaned up the best I could with water bottles and wet wipes, completely stripped naked in the parking lot (shielded by a towel thanks to my mom), put on some clean clothes and went to Young's, where I sat in a red rocking chair and enjoyed some ice cream.  That's a pretty good ending to a great race day.