Tesla Hertz 50-Mile: Recap

I was nervous.  I had been nervous since Tuesday when I talked race-day strategy with my coach.  The gravity of what I was about to do had finally dawned on me.

The morning of, I was nervous.  What if my body didn’t cooperate? What if my legs, which should feel rested and ready to go, felt heavy, and every mile, well, sucked.   So much of running is up to fate, it feels. Some days, it’s your day; others, it’s not, despite how hard or well you trained.

I woke up around 4:45 AM and laid in bed, checking texts and my fundraiser. I was elated to see that I had reached 8k overnight. I got out of bed around 5:00 and started to move around. I ate breakfast (Mush—overnight Oats) and paced throughout the house as the clock crept closer to 6. The plan was to leave around 6:15, even though we were 2 miles from the start. Emily sprayed my entire body with bug spray. The RD had sent out multiple warnings that the ticks would be bad because there was no cold spell yet on Long Island.

After the spray down, I got dressed, ensured I had everything packed up that I needed, and headed out.  I tried to choke down a mini chocolate croissant from Whole Foods but tossed it as we parked.  We got a decent parking spot and followed the path of runners, crew members, and glow sticks to the start.  I checked in and got my bib and a picture taken.  The race promptly started at 7 AM, and I was off.

Loop 1: Silence

I ran the first loop in silence.  I needed to get an understanding of the course and a feel for how my legs were going to be.  I also wanted the silence to talk to myself, reflect on everything it took to get here, and celebrate. The trail was beautiful and the most gentle I’ve ever run on.  It was smooth and sandy at parts, with occasional roots, but overall, it was EASY compared to what I trained on at Mt. Joy and Misery in Valley Forge.  My first fuel alarm went off 30 minutes in, and I grabbed one of my meticulously packed bags.  The goal, prescribed by my coach, was 60g of carbs per hour.  I, unsurprisingly to no one, did my math wrong and packed 28 bags of 60g of carbs when I needed them to be 30g.  I realized this after I ate the first bag - a pack of Honey Stinger chews and a Bobo’s oat bite. I was eating it and thinking, “holy shit, this is a lot of food; I’m going to be stuffed.”  When my second alarm went off, an hour in, I realized my math mistake and started to cut my bags in half.   There were two aid stations — the start/finish, called North Country, and about 5.5 miles in Whiskey Girl.  I checked in at Whiskey Girl (race rules and for the live tracker) and then continued.  Truthfully, I was bored on this loop, probably because I didn't know where I was going or what to expect.  I kept thinking how easy the course was but remembered there would be elevation at some point.  Shortly after Whiskey Girl (2.7 miles), I met "The Hill", the only one on the course.  It looked big, steep, and scary from far away, but I felt relieved as I made my way up it.  This was nothing compared to what I’d trained on.  If this was the only hill, I’d be fine.  I took a quick breather and then carried on.  Going down the other side of the hill was more difficult as it was steep and slippery at parts.   After the hill, I knew I was “close” to North Country as I was about 8-ish miles in, and the loop was [supposed] to be 10.48 miles.  I hit 10.48 and wasn’t at North Country yet. I was a little panicked at how far off this course would actually be.  I continued running, following the pink flags, and closed out Loop 1 at 10.63 miles.  Trail running distances are never perfect — either slightly under the distance or over.  I did some quick math (calculator, of course) and realized the estimated 10.48 would’ve brought me to 52.4 miles.  This 10.63 was going to get me closer to 53, maybe 54.  What’s an extra 3 or 4 when you’re already exhausted and in pain? But inside, I was nervous that those miles would be what broke me.  I pushed that thought aside and focused on staying present and running the mile I was in.

My crew, Nick and Emily, met me at North Country. As it was finally warming up, I dropped off my jacket, as I felt comfortable without it. I baby-wiped my face, emptied my shoes of sand, rocks, and pine needles, and made our video recording before heading out for Loop 2.

Loop 2: Zach Bryan

“Hey, driver, I’ve been feelin’ like there’s no point at all The Klonopin ain’t kicked in, and I missed my sister’s call

Hey, driver, I’m so tired of the ways of this old world

Just drive until the tires melt We’ll come back when it’s healed.”

I initially thought I might run the second loop in silence, too, as more practice and making sure my head game was strong, but I felt good after the first loop and was on a little bit of a runner’s high from seeing my friends that I decided I’d listen to music and do different themes for each loop.  I put Zach Bryan on and fell into the familiarity of loop 2.  Somewhere along this loop, before hitting Whiskey Girl, I stopped being able to stomach bready things or snacks that required a lot of chewing (Bobos, Rice Krispie treats, Oreos).  I defaulted to some applesauce packs I had on me because at least there were some carbs in them, and they were easy to get down.  My stomach wasn’t turning and I still felt good, I was just dry heaving on solid foods.  I got to Whiskey Girl and saw the first sign my friends had made for me, “ULTRA CRAZY,” and laughed.  I checked in at the aid station and sat for a few minutes.  My left armpit area was starting to chafe by my bra and where my vest was rubbing it.  We applied copious amounts of Aquaphor to both sides, providing instant relief and stopping further chafing.  They refilled my bottles, and I stocked up on more applesauce packs before heading back out.  I continued to feel strong as I completed Loop 2.  Shortly before North Country, someone had hung up signs on the trees, just simple 8x10 white printer paper but the first one I saw said, “STAY FUCKING HARD!”.  I took a picture and added that to my library of mantras for the remaining loops.  Once I got back to North Country, I drank a mini Coke and ate pickles (Dilly Bites, if you want to sponsor me...). I applied sunscreen as it was finally sunny and headed out for Loop 3. My nerves had calmed down after the first two loops as I was feeling good, and this was all familiar territory and mileage on my legs and body.

Loop 3: The National

“I’m not alone; I’ll never be

And to the bone, I'm evergreen."

Loop 3 continued to be uneventful, but that was good.  I put the National on for this loop and got through 2 albums (Trouble Will Find Me & High Violet - expanded edition).  As I was heading to Whiskey Girl, one of my favorite songs, “Terrible Love,” came on, and I cried through it.  The lyrics, “It takes an ocean not to break,” are tattooed on my leg and a reminder (or my interpretation of them) of how hard it is to be strong and the effort it takes to maintain strength during difficult times.  I got the tattoo back in 2022 when I still thought I'd never be able to run an ultra. I got to Whiskey Girl and saw the second sign they made, “Moo Deng says RUN!” which had me cracking up.  There's rarely cheer signs during trail runs, so these helped keep my spirits high and hopefully other runners’.  One of the 100 milers asked to take a picture because he thought it was hilarious.  It was finally here at mile 26.7 that I was able to go to the bathroom (IYKYK, I'm trying to be couth here).  I felt relieved and could relax a little, knowing my stomach was somewhat cooperating.  I ate more pickles, maybe some Cheez-Its, and drank more Coke. I laughed at the detail of planning that went into this fuel plan; all of the food I bought and packed for this run, and all I wanted to eat was applesauce and pickles. Oh well, it's better to be overprepared than not. I stocked up on more applesauce, filled my bottles, and left.  As I got to the North Country, my husband was waiting for me at the start/finish area, and I got to give him a big hug and kiss before sitting down and resting.  I think he started to worry that I was only consuming applesauce, but fortunately, Nick and Emily had brought leftover rigatoni from the night before.  I drank more Coke and ate a few forkfuls of that.  It was easy to swallow and delicious, so I got more carbs than what the applesauce provided.  We did some first-aid before I headed out for Loop 4, as I had developed a massive blister on my right toe.  It wasn’t painful yet, but I wanted to stop it before it got worse, so I drained it, applied a liquid patch and bandaids, and then wrapped it up.  I put a new sock on, too, which felt refreshing.  I was at 32 miles and still felt good and strong.  My nerves crept in as I prepared to head out for Loop 4, knowing this was all new and unfamiliar territory on my body.

Loop 4: The National / Noah Kahan

“The grief it gets me, the weird goodbyes

My car is creepin’, I think it’s dyin'

I’m pullin’ over until it heals

I’m on a shoulder of lemon fields.”

I always left the aid stations on a high note after seeing my friends and now husband.  Feeling so loved, so supported, and well cared for.  I often found myself going faster than I should for the first mile and had to remind myself to settle down and take it slow.  The sun was still out but wasn’t as warm as earlier in the day, so the temperature was perfect.  The first mile or so, moving again, my right foot was uncomfortable because of the blister and work we did on it, but eventually, the pain subsided, and I could move easily.  I remember hitting mile 33 and thinking how good I felt at this distance.  When I got to Whiskey Girl, I hit 37.5, and that's when I stopped feeling good. (Side note: I would've been GOLDEN if this had been a 40-mile race.)  I checked in and sat down.  My right quad started to hurt at this point. It was a general soreness but nothing serious.  I used my Theragun up and down my leg and around my hip and glute.  My husband applied Aquaphor to my shoulder area, under my bra straps, where they and my vest rubbed my skin.  I ate some more pasta and Cheez-Its and drank more Coke. The sign for this loop was the “Silly Goose Run Club,” with a beautifully painted goose.  Another one of the 100-mile runners stopped to ask what the deal was with the goose… just a love for the sassy, scary, at times bird we shared.   This was one of the longest rest breaks I took, I think about 15 minutes.  As I stood up, my lower half ached in agony.  I was a little wobbly, and the soreness started to set in.  I said my goodbyes and headed out, "Next time I see you guys, I’ll be over 40 miles in."  The fourth time up the hill, the pain started. I told myself only one more time up, and the next time I’m climbing it, I’ll be close to being finished. I knew it was about to get hard physically, mentally, and emotionally. The sun started to set as I completed the fourth loop, and as it began to get dark, so did my thoughts.

“I hope this pains just passin' through, but I doubt it.”

Loop 5: Silence

I was torn between sitting down for a few minutes before heading out.  I was worried it would make things worse, but I also needed a quick break before this final loop.  It was dark and had gotten colder as the sun was setting.  I decided to sit while Andrew checked in as my pacer.  I ditched my headphones as everything touching me felt uncomfortable at this point.  I would’ve also ditched my runbelt and phone if I didn’t think I needed it. I was undecided if I wanted the long sleeve I had packed, and fortunately, Nick and Emily made Andrew carry it on him.  We put our headlamps on and headed out.  My watch read 43.xx miles at this point. It was mentally challenging and incredibly discouraging to look at it and know that seven more miles would get me to 50 but that the course was off; I would be running past that distance.

I will say this a lot in this loop recap — it was dark, and I’ve never run in the woods in the dark before.  At this point, I was familiar with the course, but in the dark, everything felt different, and it wasn't easy to see in some parts.  Andrew ran behind me, so I had extra light.  He kept the conversation flowing, asking me questions about the day, which helped temporarily take my mind off what I was feeling.  Before the first road crossing, I got cold and asked for my long sleeve.  Andrew took my pack and ran with it at this point, relieving my heavy and worn-down body.  I started to slow down on this loop, as expected. I was really cold, wishing I had thought to pack gloves or taken my light jacket from Emily sooner.  As we carried on, walking as needed and running where I could, Andrew kept me motivated. He took me down memory lane from the start of my journey back to running after my injury to running through all the heartbreak and grief this year.  When we got to Whiskey Girl, I checked in for the last time, used the bathroom, and then drank some chicken broth for warmth.  I took my jacket and told Nick and Emily, “Cancel the champagne shower at the finish; I’m too fu*king cold.”  Andrew and I left Whiskey Girl and began the final trek to the finish.  We used his watch as the appropriate countdown since mine was skewed and off.  I thought we were closer to the hill at one point than we were, and we ended up walking about a mile, but I needed a little break.  However, I quickly realized it hurt too much to stop, and I had to keep moving forward.  It felt fitting for this past year, too.  When faced with giving up or moving forward, I chose to move forward.   Still, I felt a little hopeless at this point.  There was never any thought of quitting or stopping, but I was discouraged, cold, tired, and simply over it.  When we had 4 miles left, I kept repeating out loud, “You can do anything for 4 miles. Come on, come on, come on", a mantra I learned from my coach in my first marathon.  At some point in the dark, I was talking out loud to keep myself distracted, and I shared with Andrew that I wanted to hurt.  I wanted the pain to match what I’ve felt in my heart this past year.

We hit 50 miles, and I tried to cry but had nothing to give.  I think we hit the 50 before the hill or going up it — I don’t remember.  Andrew had to help me get down the hill on the other side.  After that, I continued to run/walk where I could.  I told him how much I hated this section of the trail because it was close to the finish but not close enough.  He replied, “You should love this section because it’s taking you to the finish.  Shift your perspective.”  We crossed the road, getting closer and closer.  He kept asking if I would out-sprint him at the end, which I rolled my eyes at because I had nothing to give.  We started to get closer to the finish, and when I saw the “STAY FUCKING HARD” sign, I knew it was almost over.  I did my best at picking up my pace, moving my legs forward to run up the little hill to the end.  I crossed the finish line, stood there, wobbling in disbelief, and fell into Andrew’s arms, where I finally began to cry. Crying from the pain, crying from the joy and pride of completing this feat, crying for my Mom. All of the emotions flooded through my body.  53.49 miles because an even 50 wouldn’t have been enough for my first.  Nick and Emily were at the finish line with a change of clothes, but I just wanted to get to the car.  I immediately went into shock, uncontrollably shaking, and was freezing.  The walk to the car was one of the worst walks of my life, and I had to hold on to Emily for support.  They helped me get in the front seat, which already had the seat warmers on and blasted the heat so I could try to warm up.  I checked my phone and had about 60 messages from my family and friends, who cheered me on throughout the day but blew up my texts when they got the alert that I had finished. It was around 9:55 PM when I said, “I’m so good, never running 50 miles again.  I don’t want to do a 100k (which had been a goal of mine).  I don’t want to run 50 miles ever.  I’m content with this.”  We got to the house; I struggled to walk from the car to inside (there were five steps to get there).  Moving as quickly as possible, I headed to the shower to get warm and try to rinse off some of the dirt caked on my legs and feet.  After that, pizza and champagne were waiting to be consumed.  I was able to eat a slice, which helped my body calm down.  We hung out in the living room, drinking champagne, eating pizza, and watching the Secret Lives of Mormon Wives (yeah, I fell victim to it and can’t stop watching it).  My body was tired and so uncomfortable, but I was wide awake.  I ended up staying up until 1 AM.  I went to bed, knowing I probably would toss and turn all night out of discomfort (which did happen).

I woke up around seven and did a quick body scan and stretch.  Everything hurt, but not as bad as I expected.  I hobbled out of bed and continued moving throughout the morning, and things started to loosen up.  It was 9:26 AM when I said, “I wanna run it again next year.” I should know myself by now to never say never.  I fell asleep on the car ride home and was pretty sore when we got home, but still, as I kept moving throughout the day, everything loosened up.  My family came over in the afternoon to celebrate and eat junk food with me.  We ordered from Collegeville Italian Bakery and got pizza, cheesesteaks, French fries, and cannolis.  It was perfect.

I’m incredibly proud of myself.  I initially thought I’d finish in around 12 hours, and I still thought that to myself as I completed loop 3 when everything was still feeling good.  I finished slower than that, and I don’t even care. With every loop I completed, my gratitude grew more and more for these humans who showed up for me. I don't know if Nick and Emily fully knew what they were getting themselves into when I asked them to join me as my crew. They gave up a weekend to be with me and to literally take care of me. They performed First-Aid on my feet, cleaned me up, fed me, and kept me going. I could not have done this without the support of them and my husband. I am a 50-mile (53.49) finisher. And yes, I’m ready to do it again. I will run this again next year, better and stronger.