Saturday morning. Race day. The kind where you pin your number and wonder if you've bitten off more than you can chew—but won't know until at least mile 20.
The first 5K split was solid—44.5 minutes, the second, 42.5. The flatter sections felt manageable, cruising easily like I'd planned. But by the fourth 5K, something shifted. The course revealed its true character.
The Technical Reality Sets In
This wasn't the rolling hills and smooth dirt paths I'd trained on back home. This was rocks. Steep ascents and trails that undulated constantly, smooth one moment, technical enough to slow you to a shuffle the next.
Worth noting: my home trails are built for mountain bikers—flowy with occasional tech. This felt like a goat trail at times.
The humidity hit differently, too. Not the crisp spring conditions I'd enjoyed on my last two long runs. It was 80 degrees, with moisture that seemed to cling to everything, including my shorts.
When Zone 3 Becomes Your New Zone 2
By 30K, the math was getting uncomfortable. Heart rate holding in zone 3 for what felt like hours when it should have been zone 2. The steepest climb so far pushed me into zone 4, and I wasn't even halfway through what I'd signed up for.
Did I bite off more than I can chew?
The cutoff math was simple but unforgiving: 13 hours for 50 miles meant averaging 3.8 miles per hour. I was holding 4.1, but barely, and the technical terrain wasn't getting any easier.
I slowed down. Took in 400 calories. Let my heart rate settle while I do the calculations that will determine whether this becomes a learning day or a finishing day.
The Weather Gods Change Their Mind
Funny how conditions can shift. The afternoon rain that was supposed to make everything miserable never showed—instead, a breeze picked up. Humidity dropped, and the temperature that had felt oppressive suddenly felt... manageable.
But by then, the damage was done. Eight 5K splits in, my average pace had dropped to 3.7 miles per hour. The trotting sections that should have been recovery were jacking my heart rate too quickly.
It felt like bonking, but I could still move.
What the Trail Taught Me
Coming up on the 50K mark, there was time to think. Time to be honest about what went wrong.
The gap between 50K and 50 miles isn't just 19 additional miles. It's system management over a timeline that exposes every weakness in your preparation and pacing strategy.
The weather was the weather—nothing to do about that. But the terrain? This place was only an hour from home. I'd looked at it, thought about coming up to preview the course. Never did. The race instructions were vague, no clear GPX file to study.
Those are excuses. Valid ones, but still excuses.
The System Check
Approaching 31 miles, my body gave me a full report. Quads and hip flexors were the first to wave the white flag. Earlier twitching in my left calf came and went. Feet holding up surprisingly well despite the muddy, wet conditions that left them looking like they'd been through a jungle expedition.
No blisters, which felt like a small victory in a day full of course corrections.
The Pacing Error I Should Have Seen Coming
Looking back, I got caught up in the pack dynamics early on. People in front, people behind, the natural tendency for pace to creep up in those early miles. I should have pulled myself out of that rhythm and trusted the pacing I trained with.
Classic rookie error, even when you're not a rookie.
By mile 20, I was paying for those early zone 3 minutes.
The Peak Question
One more variable to consider: Had I peaked a week too early? That 30K run the weekend before—fast, without poles, feeling invincible—might have been too much, too close to race day.
Usually, my long runs are spaced two weeks apart. This violated that pattern. I rationalized it at the time: what's 30K compared to 80K? But thinking about it now, I wouldn't run a half marathon at PR pace the week before a marathon.
Sometimes, feeling great is a warning sign that you're not listening to.
The Numbers Don't Lie
The interesting part? On a similar course last year, it took me almost two hours longer for the 50K distance. So despite the DNF, despite the conditions, despite every variable that went sideways—fitness had improved.
That's the kind of data point that keeps you signing up for the next one.
Final Stats
Here's the breakdown for those keeping score:
Distance: 32.17 miles
Time: 8 hours, 41 minutes, 36 seconds
Average Pace: 16:13/mile
Heart Rate Distribution:
Zone 1: 20% (≈1 hour 44 minutes)
Zone 2: 61% (≈5 hours 19 minutes)
Zone 3: 19% (≈1 hour 36 minutes)
Elevation Gain: 4,147 feet
Training Effect: 5.0 aerobic
Training Status: Productive
Recovery Time: 74 hours
The drive home gave me an hour to process what the trail had taught me. Sometimes the education is in the attempt, not the completion. Sometimes 50K miles teaches you more about 50 miles than finishing ever would.
Maybe next time, I'll preview the course. Next time, I'll be more disciplined about early pacing. Next time, I'll respect the gap between training terrain and race terrain.
But there will definitely be a next time.
Epilogue
Editing this video after having time to reflect on this experience, I have some additional learnings to share.
Running 30K at personal record (PR) pace a week before the race was a mistake. In the moment, I misread the unusually fast pace as a sign that I was peaking, when it should have been a cue to back off. A shorter effort—somewhere between 15K and 25K—may have been smarter. At the time, I rationalized it by comparing the 30K to running a half marathon a week before a full marathon. But that’s not a fair comparison. A 50-mile race is about 80K, so the halfway point would be 40K. By that math, 30K is only 37% of the full distance, equivalent to running a 10-miler a week out from a marathon. That kind of long(ish) run would typically be fine during a taper. What I missed—until I reviewed the footage—was the recovery time: 53 hours. That’s too long. Ideally, this run should have delivered just enough stress to keep the edge sharp, without overreaching. A properly timed, well-executed effort should have required less than 30 hours to bounce back—ideally around 24. So, if I had to do it again, I would either run 30K at my goal race pace (or slightly faster, not dramatically faster) or run the faster pace for a shorter distance.
In the early stages of the race, I got swept up in the moment and tried to match—or even outpace—the runners around me. In hindsight, I should have taken a more conservative approach during the opening 5K and let the crowd pull ahead. Starting slower might have helped me in the long run. It’s easy to get caught up in the excitement, so this is a lesson I need to keep reminding myself of.
I need to train with a more dedicated nutrition plan, one that provides around 200-250 calories per hour. What I noticed watching the footage back was that my energy returned after consuming over 400 calories at 30K. At that point, I was probably 400-600 calories behind, and while that may not seem like a lot, maintaining a constant calorie intake will go a long way toward higher energy levels late in the race.
If you want to read more about my post-race reflection, check out this member-only post:
When the Race Deals the Cards
The starting line of my first 50-mile ultramarathon hummed with nervous energy. Runners ready, eyeing the five 10-mile loops ahead. I'd completed a 50K the year before and trained well for this moment. The 50-miler felt like my natural next step.
Share this post