On November 21, 2015, I ran my first Ultra. In runner-speak, an Ultra – short for ultramarathon – is a race longer than a marathon distance of 26.2 miles. I entered into this new echelon of distance running by completing the JFK 50 Mile Race in Boonsboro, Maryland. Looking back, I am happy that I completed the race. I have a great sense of accomplishment from conquering that distance and achieving a difficult goal. There were times during the race, though, when I questioned whether or not it was worth continuing on.

The JFK 50 is considered one of the most prestigious and historic ultras in the country. It is the oldest and largest ultramarathon in the country. It has been going strong since 1963 as part of JFK’s push to bring the country back to physical fitness.

I signed up for the JFK 50 in June, not long after running in the Boston Marathon. I needed a new challenge. A 50 kilometer race, which equates to about 30 miles, might have made more sense as a progression into ultra distance races. Instead, I dove right into training for a 50 miler. Part of the attraction of the JFK 50 is the proximity. Boonsboro is only an hour from where I live, so it did not require the logistics of overnight stays and travel. Another factor is my competitive spirit. When I heard Chuck, one of my runner friends, say he was going to do it, I was right there to say, “If you’re doing it, I will too”.

I trained throughout the summer, consistently running 50 and 60 mile weeks. My coach kept my long runs to a maximum of 20 miles in order to allow enough recovery time between effort sessions. So, up until the 50 mile race, a marathon was the longest run I had done. What’s another 24 miles?

Prior to the race, I had very little experience running on trails. I run almost exclusively on roads. A couple weeks before the race, I met up with some experienced trail running friends, including Chuck, and we tackled part of the Appalachian Trail that is on the JFK 50 course. I learned really fast that this type of trail is not your typical picturesque dirt trail through the woods. The Appalachian Trail consists of rocky terrain that requires complete concentration to remain upright. Rocks, leaves, roots, branches and 1200 feet of elevation climb is a tough way to start a 50 mile race. Getting a feel for what I was going to be facing during the race definitely helped, though.

Race day, I woke up and got ready to head for Boonsboro. My pre-race meal was an English muffin with peanut butter and a banana. I was going to have my wife drop me off at the start, but I decided to drive myself since she was going to be taking my son, Connor, to his soccer tournament. Missing the first day of the tournament weighed on my conscience, since I am the assistant coach, but Connor and the boys understood this race meant a lot to me. I also wanted to make sure I had a ride back in case my friends that were coming to help crew for me had to leave before I finished. I could catch a bus back to Boonsboro and drive my tired self home.

Arriving at the high school, I had no trouble finding a parking spot, retrieving my race packet, bib and timing chip, and preparing myself for a long day. I had my race fuel, which consisted of Hammer Gels, Shot Blocks, various Justin’s nut butter packets, Honey Stinger Ginsting, Skratch Labs fruit drops, packed in my SpiBelt waist pack. On my back, I had the Orange Mud Double Barrel HydraQuiver hydration pack with two water bottles for hands-free running on the trail. The timing chip included two zip ties for attaching the chip, but I opted use my SKORA Tempo laces to hold it in place. I sent a backup pair of SKORA Fits with my friends, who would meet me on the course later, in case I needed a change. I was worried that the zip ties would complicate the shoe change process.

Everything at the high school was well organized, since they have been doing this race for 53 years. Race director, Mike Spinnler, gave pre-race instructions in the gymnasium. I found Chuck before the race, but soon lost track of him while making my way to the start line. The race starts on Main Street in Boonsboro. It is a little bit of a walk to get there from the school. It was pretty cold, in the low 30’s, but not uncomfortable. I had a 3/4 length sleeved shirt with arm warmers underneath, gloves, a buff around my neck, and a hat. After the National Anthem, the countdown started. At 7 AM, the gun fired and I was off on a 50 mile adventure.

The miles leading up to the Appalachian Trail are a series of steep hills. They just keep getting steeper. And steeper. I caught up to Chuck on the road and we chatted about pace goals and how he was feeling. He was a bit banged up and under the weather, so I soon pulled ahead and continued ascending the mountain. I walked a few stretches of the hills to eliminate some stress on my quads and calves. At the end of the paved road, we were directed onto the Appalachian Trail. From here on, not falling became more of a goal than running fast. I had one near-wipeout that would have been pretty catastrophic. It was on a stretch of rocks that were protruding out everywhere and at all angles. My face felt like it was inches off the rocks, but I somehow regained my balance to the cheers of some of the runners behind me. That got my heart going double-time.

Deeper into the trail, on a nice clear section with very few rocks or obstructions, I tripped over something and went head-over-heels. Both of my water bottles went flying. I had leaves all over me. No pain though. Close call. Another runner grabbed my bottles and stuffed them back in my pack and brushed my back off, for which I was grateful. I stumbled and had a few minor rolls on the ground after that. Somehow I chipped a tooth in the back of my mouth on one of the tumbles. On the final switchbacks, descending the steep hill, I could hear the crowd at the mile 15.4 spectator station. I could hear “Let’s go Coach!” being shouted by my friend, Alex. Finally on stable ground, I could evaluate my injuries and prepare for the next 35 miles. Most of the trail section was a blur since I spent the entire time staring at the ground trying to pick out the next safe foot step.

Alex leading me through the spectator tunnel.

Just off the trail, there was a wall of spectators on either side of the path. You feel like a rock star coming through that section with everyone shouting encouragement. I made sure to high-five every little kid I saw. Alex led me over to where Josh and Mario were waiting to help me transition into the C&O Tow Path portion of the race. I can’t thank these guys enough. They were the rock stars on race day. I shed my arm warmers, buff and hydration pack and grabbed a handheld bottle to eliminate some weight. All three of the guys were asking what I needed, handing me anything that I asked for. I was still in “racing” spirit, so I was out of there pretty quickly. With some fist-bumps and thank you’s, I was back on the run and headed toward the tow path.

Heading back out after the first spectator area. My crew took good care of all day!

I was hoping that the calf cramps I was feeling on the Appalachian Trail would fade once I hit flat ground. Unfortunately, that was not the case. It started with the calves and then my quads started to burn and cramp. I had been taking gels and some gummies periodically on the trail, but I think the hectic terrain threw off my planned calorie consumption. At mile 22, my stomach revolted and I threw up on the side of the trail. The next few miles were a disaster of cramps all over my body, combined with waves of nausea. At mile 24, I decided it was not worth continuing on. My friends would be waiting for me at mile 27, and I could jump in the car and go home in shame. It wasn’t worth the chance of injury. I still had a full marathon to go. No way. I’m done. I quit.

Then Alex came out from the spectator area to see what I would need at the next stop. A kick in the ass is what was needed. I explained that I was toast. Done. I’ll get to the next stop and figure out if it is worth it. Thank goodness for Alex. He got me chatting about anything else besides the misery I was going through and once I passed that initial marathon distance, I was starting to come back around to the idea that I could continue on with this ridiculously long run. Such a terrible idea became my mantra the rest of the way. Meeting up with Josh and Mario at the station, I grabbed a cup of chicken soup and a pb&j sandwich. That seemed to do the trick. I was back in business. Only 23 miles to go. Such a terrible idea.

Not a happy camper. But I didn’t quit. Thank you, Alex.

Here we go again. Only 23 miles to go. Such a terrible idea.

Back on track after the aid station, Alex stuck with me one more mile, then went back to the other guys so they could meet me at mile 38. I just had to make it 10 miles on my own. That tow path is lonely. Runners were pretty spread out. The best way for me to keep moving forward was to run until my calves locked up, then walk a bit. I played leap frog with other runners using this method as our run and walk sessions were not in sync. Not only lonely, the tow path is boring. It is flat, and the scenery, while very pretty, is the same the entire way. Water on the left, trees on the right. The bright spots were the aid stations every 3 or 4 miles. The volunteers working the tables were so friendly and accommodating. Once again, it wasn’t the runners who were the rock stars, it was the people supporting them. I switched from my packaged fuels to the food they had at the stations. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cookies, pretzel sticks, M&M’s. Whatever works.

Around mile 36, Josh came out to find me prior to the next spectator area. He had fresh water for me and plenty of encouragement, which I needed. Such a terrible idea. I was getting a sore spot on the top of my foot where I had the timing chip tied in my laces. When we reached mile 38, Mario was ready with anything I could possibly need. Best of all, he had a score update from my son’s soccer game. The boys were kicking some butt! Mario had been sending Jen updates on my progress. Alex had to cut out early to head home. I fixed my chip so it wasn’t digging into my foot, grabbed a Power Bar, and headed back out. Josh kept me company for another mile while I ran and walked. The next meeting point would be mile 46. Such a terrible idea.

Josh bringing me into mile 38 spectator area.

Mario had everything I could possibly need ready for me. I adjusted my chip in my laces at this point.

At mile 42, I exited the tow path and hit the back roads of Williamsport, Maryland. Rolling hills would be the best way to describe them. Up and down through some beautiful rural countryside. I couldn’t tell if I was in more pain going uphill or down. Along the road, there were signs counting down the number of miles to go. Slowly but surely, I passed mile marker 7. Then 6. Then 5, just about the time Josh came back out to find me. He had been back and forth so many times that he was making friends along the way and getting updates from the runners that I was playing leapfrog with. “Your boy’s back there. He’s still moving forward”, they’d tell him. Pulling into mile 46, my friend, Vern, had joined the welcome party to see me to the finish. Once again, Mario made sure I had everything I needed, and off I went with Josh and Vern. 4 more miles.

Mile 46. Still some life left in me! Is that a smile?

Soon, Josh headed back to accompany Mario to the finish line. Vern and I counted down the miles to the last aid station at mile 1.8. Vern’s wife, Lisa, was there waiting for us. I can not express how much it meant to have so much support. At this station, I grabbed a Coke. I am not much of a soda drinker, but it hit the spot. Vern asked if I wanted company to the finish, and I gladly said yes. We left with Lisa cheering us on and tackled the last stretch to the finish.

Vern and I nearing the finish.

I could hear the finish line before I saw it. It sounded good! On the final turn in Williamsport, I could finally see it. I then spotted someone running up the side of the road toward us. It was Connor! Jen had hustled from the soccer tournament and made it to the finish! It was the boost I need to make it those last few hundred meters. Vern gave me a final fist-bump and peeled off as Connor and I ran to the line. 8 hours, 48 minutes after I started my run in Boonsboro, I finished in Williamsport.

The final hill before the finish.

Connor pacing me to the finish line.

50 miles? Piece of cake!

Done!

50 miles.

Done.

Such a terrible idea.

But so worth it. Especially to have my wife and son experience it with me.

I can’t thank my friends and family enough for the support. I called Alex as soon as I got to a phone, which Mario of course had ready for me, and thanked him for getting me through the dark spell at the midway point. Without Alex, Mario, Josh, Vern, Lisa, Jen and Connor, I doubt I could have finished the race. They were the true heroes of the day. Josh was even gracious enough to ride to the Boonsboro High School and drive my truck and me home since I was a bit of a wreck.

My crew. Thank you, Mario, Josh, Vern, Alex, Lisa, Jen and Connor! You were the race day heroes!

Mission accomplished.

Would I do it again?

Maybe. Ask me again in a few weeks.

Chuck’s day continued to be rough after I lost him on the way to the Appalachian Trail, but he gutted it out, and finished after having to walk the last quarter of the race. Way to go, Chuck!  I’m sure when he tells me he is running the 2016 JFK 50, I will say, “I’m in.” Runners have short memories.