The Throwdown: JFK 50-Mile Race Report
I’ve been writing this race report in my head for the past few days, yet when I sit down to put it into words, I struggle with how to start to articulate this experience. To put it simply, who said running 50 miles was hard? HA! It's ridiculously hard!
In the days leading up to JFK, I was not resting as well as I would have liked. I wasn’t sleeping well and by Tuesday afternoon I had developed a cold. I was pretty much in denial, not telling anyone but Dan, and later on my parents when I arrived into town. I left work early Wednesday with the sole intent to shake this cold as much as possible because there was no way I wasn’t running JFK. Luckily, by Saturday (race) morning I had started to feel better and was ready to get out there and give this my best shot.
As I mentioned in my blog earlier in the week, I went into this race with the goal of breaking 8 hours. While I thought this might be slightly ambitious for my first 50-miler, I thought I might have an outside shot of hitting that goal. What I didn’t mention, however, was that I secretly really wanted a top 10 finish among women. The top 5 women win money and the top 10 trophies, so I was hoping to land a spot among them. I had done my research, and looking at times from the previous years, a sub-8 hour finish would safely land me a spot among the top 10 (10th woman last year finished in 8:10). However, I quickly ate a piece of humble pie and was put in my place by some bad ass women and my finishing time of 7:45:44 garnered me an 11th place finish. But, more on this later.
There are details from Saturday that I won’t forget. Small things. A high five at the finish line from a guy I had been leap frogging back and forth with for the last 8 miles. The high school girls at the aid stations who complimented me on my race attire. The fall foliage along the race course. The beauty of the small towns we ran through. The adrenaline that boosted my entire being each time my friends and family – my crew – came into view on the course.
Pre-race morning is somewhat of a blur, thanks to race day nerves. We got up at 5:00 am, checked the weather, ate breakfast, got all my crap together and were out the door at 5:45 am to head to the start at Boonsboro HS. The weather, originally slated for a brisk 21 degrees at race start, thankfully changed to a more manageable 32 degrees. I decide to go with shorts, long socks, and layers on top (short sleeve tech shirt covered by a long sleeve tech shirt) and 2 pairs of gloves (ditched the first pair pretty quickly). We arrived at the high school in plenty of time, and I decided to skip the pre-race meeting in lieu of hitting the port-a-potty line. It was a bit of the walk from the high school to the actual start line, so we headed that way about 20 til 7 am. With about 1 minute to the race start, they told people to start lining up. I gave Dan a kiss and a hug and told him I would see him on the other side. I felt confident as I stood on the starting line rural Boonesboro, Maryland on November 19th and looked 1,000 feet up to the ridge where the Appalachian Trail awaited. Everyone was standing shoulder to shoulder, seemingly fighting for the best vantage point. The race finally started, I don’t even recall a countdown or any sort of announcement. I just remember everyone started running.
For those not familiar with the JFK course, it’s somewhat of a puzzle to predict your pace with hills and rough trail in the first 16M, then a flat middle section of 26M, finishing with 8 road miles of rolling hills. However, in a 50 mile race it seems fairly obvious that you should start off slow. I was amazed at how many people were clicking off a sub8 pace… unfortunately, my competitiveness got the best of me and I (foolishly?) joined them. I did have some logic, however, in doing so. The first 2.5ish miles were on road as we climbed our way up (and up and up) towards the Appalachian Trail. Being a much stronger road runner than trail runner, I thought it would be to my advantage to try to ‘bank’ some time given the opportunity on the road, as I knew I’d lose some once we hit the trail.
Trails are a tough beast for me. I spend so much time as a runner pushing to get faster. However, this speed does not translate well for me on the trails, and it’s a tough pill for me to swallow.
After a few miles of climbing we left the road and stumbled onto the AT. I had heard prior to the race that the trail was really rocky and all covered with leaves making your footing treacherous. I was like yeah, yeah, rocky, whatever. Let me tell you, no matter what I write here, you are not going to be able to visualize how difficult this ended up being unless you are an experienced trail runner. This was more than I expected. Pools of dry leaves of unknown depth were frequent but I plunged ahead. It was a challenging trail of rocks, roots and sharp turns. My overriding thought was to run smart and save energy for later in the day. I also thought we were done with the climbing, until I met a local fellow who warned me about the climbing to come. We would get off the AT and hit a 2 mile or so paved section before we would return to the AT. He told me it would be extremely hilly and advised me to walk the hills. Hilly, I thought? Nah! Surely not any worse than what we had already climbed in the first few miles. Walk the hills? No way! I eat hills for breakfast. Then we hit that particular section and I was immediately humbled. People started walking the hills. At first I refused to walk them and continued to try to power up then running. But, then I gave in and did the same as others. I assumed most of the people up front were veterans and knew what they were doing so while I felt silly power walking up the steeper hills, when I could have run them, most others were doing the same.
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| Smiling because I'm almost off this damn trail |
After the climbs on the road, we got back onto the AT. Miles 9.5-16 were very technical again. If it wasn’t a steep uphill, it was covered in rocks. To make matters worse the leaf coverage on the ground was significant. Most of the rocks were covered at least half way, if not all the way. There was absolutely no way you could take your eyes off the trail, ever, or you'd be done. Probably 80% or so of the trail was like this. Occasional you'd hit a short stretch that was primarily dirt and leaves and you'd get a mental break, but they never lasted long. At Mile 13, I took a spill. Other than a bloody knee I was fine, so I shook it off and got right back up. At this point, I started getting frustrated with all the rocks. It’s one thing to have giant slabs of rock that you can run on, it’s another thing to have 6”-10” rocks jutting out of the ground, waiting to break your ankle. Unfortunately these were the latter. A couple of guys came up behind me and I let them pass, I realized that I was starting to get sloppy with my footing, and I didn’t want to force anything.
I was getting excited to get off the AT and get on flat C&O canal portion up ahead. I had heard the canal would get insanely boring, but I was starting to get sick of the congested trails and suicidal rocks.
Finally I came up to the dreaded switchbacks that would descend back down to Weverton Cliffs. At this point, I was happy with my pace on the trails. I have averaging about 9:30’s, which was good for me on the trails. I heard a lot of runners talking in anticipation of the steep switchbacks, so I really didn’t know what to think. Of course, once you’re down the switchbacks you’re done with the AT…so that was motivation enough. I thought I would run down them aggressively, but under control. Boy was I wrong!
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| That's fear in my eyes in case you're wondering.... |
The switchbacks were such sharp turns there was no chance to really run fast down them. To make matters worse, the ground was still covered in rocks! C’mon! Finally, this seemed to be the most highly concentrated spot of 5am walkers and senior citizens. I give mad props to these folks for completing the 50 miler, and I am amazed that they made it down the trail in one piece. It was really hard passing them on the turns, but once I heard the roar of the crowd up ahead I took off and made my way down the mountain. I saw my beloved crew – at this point my cousin, Lexi and my parents had joined Dan – and they helped me change out of my trail shoes and into my road shoes. I shed my long sleeve top, grabbed a mini Clif bar and off I went.
My average pace coming off the mountain was 9:56, which included my stop to change shoes. While I had hoped to be off the mountain a tad bit faster, this wasn’t too bad considering the difficulty of the course. I was told I was 9
th female off the trail. Sweet!
My genius race plan had me dropping to an 8:00-8:15 min/mile pace once I hit the river trail hoping to slowly start make up for the time lost in the hills. Sadly I could muster only three of them before realizing that was completely un-doable, and I backed off the pace. At this point I was resigned to run comfortably for as long as I could.
I felt pretty frustrated for the first few miles on the canal. I felt every single mile that I ran. I was expecting an 8:15 pace to feel like nothing, just another long training run. What I didn’t expect was the tightness and muscle fatigue from the trail to make me feel so lousy. My legs weren’t working right, every step felt like an effort. I had to really focus on moving forward to keep my pace steady. I didn’t think I ran too hard on the AT, but my legs were telling me otherwise. I guess I underestimated how much the trail portion would take out of me.
I spent the next several miles trying to stay steady around an 8:30 pace. I casually chatted with folks who I was passing, and did a lot of leap-frogging with a couple of guys. I saw my crew again around mile 27 or so, and was stoked to see their smiling faces. I grabbed a Gatorade and a handful of M&M’s and kept on trucking. At that point the race became more about “how long until I see my family & husband again” instead of “how long until I finish”. I got passed by one girl at this point, but I had passed another girl earlier, so we still thought I was among the top 10 women.
At this point, the pack stretched out with each mile. At times I could see a quarter mile ahead and behind me but there was nothing in sight but the river and the crunchy trail underfoot. Where I hoped to be able to maintain an 8:15/mile pace during this stretch I frowned each time my Garmin reported an 8:40-45.
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| Not a very convincing thumbs up.... |
About 30 miles into the race, my feet started to hurt really bad. They were literally burning. Every step seemed to piss me off more and more, not quite the experience I had been hoping for. I think the surface of the canal was packed enough to bother my sad feet. I knew I would see my family again around Mile 38, so I decided I would change into thicker socks at that point and ditch my festive striped socks (even though I was receiving a lot of compliments on them J.)
At about 35 miles I hooked up with two guys, one older and one closer to my age, who were maintaining a pretty good pace. The timing was fortunate as mentally I was starting to get foggy. We talked about paces and finish times and races run. They both were shooting for sub-8 finishes. Math on the run is problematic but I tried to calculate finish times. It seemed that I was still on pace for a sub-8 finish. I still believed I was among top 10 women, so I willed just to remain steady and try not to crash.
I made it to Mile 39 (on my Garmin), and was relieved to find the smiling faces of my crew. As I approached, I yelled ‘I need new socks!!’ to Dan; he told me to sit down and my fabulous crew changed my socks for me (my feet weren’t a pretty sight at this point so they deserve even more kudos), while I wolfed down a PB&J sandwich. This was probably about a 3 minute exchange, but well worth the fresh pair of thicker socks and food other than energy gel. Plus, I was dying of thirst at this point, so I gulped down an entire bottle of water before I was off again. Both of my running buddies at that point stayed at the aid station longer than I, so I was on my own again.
Aid stations became a thing of wonder. The friendly volunteers. The cold water. THE FRIENDS AND FAMILY. You guys, this is where I just can’t think about the day and not get teary. The 50 miles, the amazing feat, the incredible journey aside, I don’t think anything will top how I felt any time I rounded a corner and was welcomed by the most amazing people I know. It felt like a finish line every time. Their cheers and high fives and smiles were amazing. Every time I left an aid station I felt stronger. Happier. Rejuvenated. I will never be able to put into words how amazing my husband and family are. Yes, I did the physical work, but they were all there too. They did the emotional work for me. They gave me energy and love and support. They traveled. They planned. They loved. The cheered their little lungs raw. All of them – mom, dad, Lexi, Dan, Craig & Sarah. Each of them were the bright spots of my day.
The race was long and lonely for the next 11 miles. The only people I might pass were the occasional runner who had slowed down or those who opted for the 2hr early start and were, for the most part, walking. So despite my idea that running JFK with 1000+ people would make it easier with plenty of runners out there, turns out you still find yourself with only that voice in your head. (Telling you things you don't want to hear).
And, while the thicker socks had helped me feet some, they were still on fire. I realized I had made the wrong choice in shoes. I needed some thicker shoes with more cushioning. But, too late at that point, just a lesson learned for next time.
The end of the towpath at Mile 42 was marked by a return to the roads and a steep climb up to farm country. I’m going to be completely honest and say when I came out of the canal portion, I immediately felt like crap. I was already feeling the out-of-body running experience, but when we hit the asphalt I wanted to quit. I wanted to crawl in to a ditch and cry for a while, maybe get back up and hitch a ride with one of the cows or something. I couldn’t get anymore food/gu down, and I was feeling overwhelmingly thirsty.
The miles ticked by soooo slow. I wanted to walk so badly, but I only allowed myself to walk up the steep hills. The 8 miles on the road were very rolling, and I imagined it would’ve been a fun run had it not been after running 42 miles already. They had aid stations just about every 2 miles, and I felt like I was killing myself to get there.
I was still managing just under 9 minute miles, expect when I would stop briefly at the aid stations and those miles were just over 9 minute miles. I knew a sub-8 hour finish was in the bag as long as nothing catastrophic happened. There were no other women in sight, and I was still under the impression that I was in the top 10 women (according to aid station volunteers and what my family how counted).
I saw my Dad and Dan at Mile 46. I grabbed a water from Dan and power walked for a minute but told him I could make it and would see him at the finish. Only 4 more miles. Then 3. Then 2. Then 1. About ½ mile from the finish, I saw my brother and sister-in-law at the top of a hill cheering loudly. They told me I had about ½ mile left. I smiled and forged on. At this point, my Garmin read about 50.3 miles, and I thought DAMN this is going to be close to a 51 mile race…looks like I’m the sucker now.
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| High fiving my race sherpa <3 |
I rounded the corner and saw the finish line. I was never so happy to see a finish line. I was never so happy to see my family. I crossed the finish line, and I was in a numb state of disbelief. I ran 50 miles. In 7:45. Apparently, I was a more than a little disoriented because even though I already had a finisher’s medal hanging around my neck, I asked a volunteer for a medal. He gave me a strange look, and I give him a look that says ‘
I want my goddamn medal’ but instead I said “What? I can’t have a medal.” He looked at me and said “Ma’am, you already have one.” I looked down and there was one hanging around my neck. Ooops! Excuse my delirium, I just RAN 50 MILES.
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| I DID IT. Here come the tears! |
I collapsed on the grass for a few minutes, then went to check out race results. I was listed as 10th woman. Yippee! But, wait – those are unofficial. Apparently, there was a girl who finished in between me and the girl who I thought was in directly in front of me. Dan pointed her out, and I knew she had not passed me. Unless she passed me while I changing socks at Mile 39. That could have happened. Did it? I don’t know. Or, she could have been in front of me the whole time and we had miscounted my place all along. Easy to do when we are all spread out over such a long race. So, Dan went to wait for official results to be posted. And, yep, I was indeed 11th woman and not 10th. I was a little crushed that I would not be getting a coveted JFK trophy, but proud of myself nonetheless. Hell, my time at last year’s race would have placed me 6th overall (among women), so it just goes to show me that it all depends on who shows up to race on any given day. Not bad for a rookie.
My official time was 7:45:44. This race is advertised as 50.2 miles, which would make for a 9:16 overall average pace. My Garmin had the race at 50.74 miles, good for a 9:10 average pace. And, yes, I am going to bitch about it because when you run that far any additional mileage is bitch-worthy.
I'm sore as hell sitting here writing 4 days later and I still can't help but think man that's a long way to run!! Interestingly, my arms are really sore, I guess they're not used to being held in running form for 8 hours. You know how it is, all the soreness goes away pretty quickly, but the memory of the accomplishment is there forever. Overall, I really enjoyed experience and look forward to trying another one some day.
To my husband, to my friends and family and to everyone who has cheered for me along the way, thank you. From the very bottom of my very big heart.
