I Ran My First 50K Trail Race: What I Learned + How I Prepared
The best way to describe an ultramarathon is to say that a runner experiences a mini lifetime in that span of time and distance. Nothing else exists in that parallel universe as the rest of the world drops away. The only real things are the natural elements, the air going in and out of your lungs, and your feet connecting to the earth. It is a liberating struggle, and one that I would re-do 100 times over. Running my first 50K was hard and all-consuming, and I am enormously grateful for my experience.
What is trail running?
Trail running is pretty self-explanatory: running on terrain other than pavement, whether that surface be dirt, gravel, slick rock, sand, or grass. You can call it fast hiking or a slow death, whatever floats your boat. While there are approximately 621 million recreational runners worldwide, only 1.7 million of those identify as trail runners.
How is trail running different from road running?
While inherently very similar, trail running and road running still have their differences.
When trail running, there is typically more vertical loss and gain.
Trail technicality demands a runner’s alertness and agility with loose rocks, tree roots, cliff edges, and uneven footing.
Trail running is more community- than competition-focused; trail races versus road races invite a very different vibe and environment.
Trail running provides a more intimate experience with the outdoors.
Why Run a 50K?
My journey leading up to a 50K began with running my first road marathon 1.5 years ago. Up to that point, I had been a hiker, not a runner. I discovered trail running when I moved to Salt Lake City, a city that is very focused on outdoor recreation. It felt natural to leave the road and take to the trails. I naturally wanted to combine my two passions--hiking and running—and was excited to see where this new sport could take me.
The word “ultramarathon” (any race over 26.2 miles, the traditional marathon distance) began to have a strangely siren-like appeal as I crossed shorter trail races off my list, and I was hungry for a harder challenge that would push me into uncharted territory. For me, recreational running is a release and outlet; it is just as mentally engaging as it is physically. So, I knew a heightened goal like an ultramarathon would be just as much a psychological journey as an athletic one.
““Running this 50K was a hard-won reminder that I can redefine my own capabilities at any point...I viewed it as the distance I could actively put between previously self-imposed limitations that used to hold me back, and as an opportunity to work towards a better, stronger, more self-aware version of myself...””
Here are a few of my reasons for running my first ultramarathon:
I was looking for my edge. Find your edge, a line from my favorite podcast Trail Runner Nation, summarizes the desire to push physical and mental limitations and endurance, be forced to get comfortable being uncomfortable, and embrace challenge.
An aggressive physical goal necessitates structured and goal-oriented workouts, and so provided purpose to my exercise habits.
A dedicated training period is conducive to developing positive habits and qualities, such as a productive daily routine, a period of education and exploration, and steadfast discipline and commitment.
Having a higher goal keeps me motivated to respect my overall health and wellness. I prioritized sleep and a healthy diet, knowing that how I treated my body had a direct result on my runs and weekly mileage.
Running this 50K was a hard-won reminder that I can redefine my own capabilities at any point and that sheer mental willpower can pull a person through any obstacle. I viewed it as the distance I could actively put between previously self-imposed limitations that used to hold me back, and as an opportunity to work towards a better, stronger, more self-aware version of myself (or here’s hoping).
Training for a 50K: How I Prepared for My First Ultramarathon
A proper 50K training plan can be quite extensive, if you choose to make it that way. You can modify any training period to your ability and experience level, and I combined several training plans based on research and my own running experience.
For my first 50K, I went all in. I was going to do it right the first time.
I chose the Bryce Canyon Ultra series, a sizable challenge of 33 miles with 5200 feet of elevation change. It was reputed as an excellent event with technical terrain, challenging vertical gain, and fun natural elements native to southern Utah.
Key components to a well-rounded ultramarathon training plan:
A lengthy training period. Beginning January 1, I committed nearly five months to train for a mid-May race date. Starting this far in advance gave me plenty of time to build significant weekly mileage gradually and let my body adapt to the ever-increasing challenge. There is no shortcut or fast lane into a successful 50K!
Weekly long runs. These long weekend trail runs were the bread and butter of how I trained both body and mind for endurance. I felt like I was preparing for a war zone as I packed my running vest with necessary gear, laced up my shoes, and braced to push myself for the next four hours (20-ish miles) every Saturday morning. I would select different trails and parks to explore, reminding myself to keep this sport sacred and to enjoy these moments despite the discomfort. These long runs I remember as fondly as the final race.
Steadily increasing weekly mileage. My weekly mileage began at 20 miles and worked up to a peak week of 50 miles. I aimed to increase total mileage and my long run by 10% weekly, with a cutback every third week, and I tapered three weeks out from the race date. My peak long run was the Salt Lake City marathon, which honestly felt easier than some of the long trail weekend runs I had been doing, because it was a flat road race.
Training on similar terrain as the race course. That includes trail technicality and a similar elevation level (as opposed to training in Florida at 100 feet and then racing in Colorado at 8000 feet, for example).
On long runs, mimicking race day when it comes to sleep, nutrition, hydration, gear, mindset, and habits. The goal is to make every long run essentially a race simulation and an experiment to find out what will work on race day and what will not, and to develop a routine that you know in your bones will serve you well in your race.
Slowing down. I slowed down on my runs so that I could run farther, not faster. As 20 miles a week became 30, then 40, then 50, my focus was forced to shift from speed to the time that I spent on my feet.
Strength training. I enjoyed seeing how greater muscular strength translated to greater stamina and power on the trail as I adopted a push/pull lifting split 4 times a week. Cross training with boxing, yoga, and climbing prevented me from losing interest in just one form of fitness.
Knowing why you want to run an ultramarathon. On a five-month-long journey, there will inevitably be moments, or days, where you totally lose track of your purpose: Why am I doing this again? There were definitely times where I was discouraged and unmotivated, and I would flip back to my list of Whys and be refreshed.
Other contributing factors include a generally healthy lifestyle, whole foods and performance-fueling nutrition, good gear, solid sleep, research, proper recovery tactics (like rest days and stretching), and relying on discipline, not motivation.
My 50K Race Day Experience
Going into race day, I knew that I had done nearly everything I could do. I had put in the work, but there were still lingering doubts in my mind. What if I just totally bonked four hours in? What if an energy gel goes down wrong and an upset stomach ruins the day? What if my legs feel like lead 20 miles in? It was a 33 mile experiment, so I leaned into the concept of simply trusting my training and giving it all I had. What else can you do?
My goal on race day, after 5 months of hard training and a convoluted list of goals, dwindled down to something very simple. While I had a goal pace and time for finishing, more importantly, I wanted to completely love this day. I wanted to celebrate my training and love for trail running, and have an unforgettably good time doing one of the coolest challenges I’ve undertaken.
Race day: The moment had arrived after five months. It was a glorious morning, and the energy around me was contagious when the gun went off. The sky was blue, the sun was bright, the trail was dry, and I couldn’t ask for a better day!
I began the race relaxed and happy to be experiencing this beautiful course with other people who were equally passionate. While the terrain climbed and transitioned from rolling hills to red rock, there were aid stations where high fives and jokes and pickles and watermelon were passed around. The first two, three, four hours rolled by pleasantly and socially as I linked up with different runners, and we paced one another for differing periods of time.
I kept proactive tabs on my pace, heart rate, carbohydrate intake, and hydration level, as monitoring these factors attentively had been key in my long training runs. The most common mistake of first time ultra runners is starting a race too fast with the onset of adrenaline, only to hit a wall in the second half of the race. Wanting to avoid this at all costs, I held back even when I wanted to go faster. I had to leave some gas in the tank for the hardest part, which was surely coming after mile 20.
My favorite elements of race day were the positive interactions I had with other runners on the trail. Everyone had a story, sense of humor, subtle taste for pain, and words of encouragement and support for one another. Runners would link up and run for several miles, minutes, or long stretches together. Sharing this experience and passion for trail running with others fostered an awesome environment of respect, adventure, and grit.
By the halfway point—where the course doubled back towards the finish line—runners were gearing themselves to buckle up, buttercup, because the last stretch was where the real ultramarathon began. At this point, the race became less social and more gritty.
I tried to put in headphones to get some music motivation, but frankly, it irritated me, and I was happier listening to the wind, thunder booming above me, and my breathing. Funny how you lose yourself to details like that! The trail became a parallel universe where nothing existed except the current breath in and out of my lungs and the trail five feet ahead of my stride. This connection to the present moment is the addictive part of ultra running, as you lose yourself to the exertion and to the elements. The struggle in the moment just feels like a hallmark of being truly alive and being aware enough to fight for the gift that life is. (I get really dramatic when I run this long.)
““This connection to the present moment is the addictive part of ultra running, as you lose yourself to the exertion and to the elements. The struggle in the moment just feels like a hallmark of being truly alive and being aware enough to fight for the gift that life is.””
Mile 26 to 30 was an unforgiving ascent, and in this roughest stretch, I dug back into my training toolkit and Whys. These heightened moments of pain and endurance were the real reason why I was there, running nearly seven hours through the Utah desert: Find your edge. I chanted my short mantras that I had used in training and talked to myself like nobody’s business; words that sound silly if I write them here, but they moved my feet forward just as much as my muscular system did. When my body wanted to stop, it was my mind that forcibly pulled unwilling feet forward. Through this endeavor, I was striving to be better and stronger than I had ever been before.
““First find out what you are capable of, then decide who you are.” ”
When I passed 26.2 miles, I noted briefly that I was finally in uncharted territory; I had never run farther than that before. I was on track to beat my goal time and leaned into my “forever pace.” Despite some fatigue, I felt strong and determined, and after reaching the last aid station at mile 30, I coasted the last three miles at a slight downhill. I remember thinking, “Why do I feel okay? Did I take too much aspirin?”
I ran past the finish line all smiles, heard my name called out, had the best cup of hot chocolate that ever existed, and swapped stories with other returning 50K runners.
In the end, I had finished 33 miles in 7.5 hours, right on track with my goal, and finished first in my age group for women. The finish felt deeply like a success as the five months of training rolled to a hard stop. I had sacrificed a lot to do this, and the sense of happy accomplishment after its completion felt full.
I had thought that would be my only 50K, but I knew as soon as I crossed that line that I would be back again. I was looking for that edge…and wasn’t quite sure I had found it yet.
Advice for First-Time 50Kers & Things I Wish I Had Known
Be Patient
The best way to start trail running is to increase your fitness through hiking, adding in intervals of running while hiking, and selecting relatively flatter courses before increasing difficulty. Be patient while your endurance increases!
Find Balance
I let my training period take over the majority of my time, energy, and bandwidth, and certain things fell to the wayside. While I can’t say I regret it, for my next 50K, I want to better balance my other interests and commitments.
Prioritize Recovery
I didn’t take proper recovery tactics to heart, such as ice baths, chiropractic care, foam rolling, or massages. More mobility work and stretching was also needed for sore muscles.
Rest
I burned myself out multiple times during training and didn’t adequately rest; I should have slept and ate more, lifted less intensely, and balanced more social things. At least from my experience, when increasing my mileage that high for the first time, my hormones went whack (Just something for you ladies to be wary of!).
Lessons I Learned From Running My First Ultramarathon
Several things changed when I started to trail run.
I started to view trail running as a moving meditation more than anything else. Losing myself to the present on my long trail runs is something that I’ll never forget. I started running without headphones, being more friendly on the trail, and found a deeper relationship with my body, my mind, and nature. I held a deeper respect for the outdoors and for silence, existing with my thoughts alone. The physical achievement brought me gratitude and continually reminded me how blessed I am to have two working legs that can do things like this.
““I started to view trail running as a moving meditation...I held a deeper respect for the outdoors and for silence, existing with my thoughts alone. The physical achievement brought me gratitude and continually reminded me how blessed I am to have two working legs that can do things like this.””
Humility was a huge part of the process. I got kicked in the butt more times than I could count, but failure and defeat made the successes all the more special!
The ultra training geared my mind to invest in long-term goals, health, and success; anything short-term is short-lived and has little impact towards any real good. I was always reminding myself to settle in for the long run—literally.
I learned to sit with discomfiture, breathe and endure it, and adapt. I learned to be confident that I am able to climb any mountain I face if I dig deep, and that willpower is what takes you places. This kind of resolution is one that I think can’t be found anywhere, only made. The empowerment of knowing that I was striving for the utter best that I could do for a sustained period of time is enough to bring tears to my eyes. It did in the race—and that is why I will do it again.
