Running an ultra marathon

Lessons Learned

“Take a deep breath” – okay, now let’s go! That’s a phrase I must’ve repeated about a hundred times on Saturday, April 13, 2024, when I tackled my first, and probably last, ultra marathon! Dadjogger has been flaunting his endurance and stamina by signing up for ultra marathons. At first, I thought he was a bit crazy—why would anyone want to run more than a marathon? But after spectating my first 50-miler last October, I got hooked. Watching him breeze through 52 miles and experiencing the culture of these races first hand made me want to give it a shot. Ultra marathons are tough, but the vibe is relaxed, that’s the best way to describe it. You run, stop at an aid station, grab a bite, hydrate, then stroll off, preparing for the next 5-mile leg. It seemed manageable. All the other races I’ve done were like “bang, start running, no stopping until the finish line, beat everyone else.” Ultra marathons seemed slow and steady, and that’s how I approached the race.

Committing

We signed up for this months ago, and I went into training thinking about this laid-back atmosphere—that was my first mistake. I approached this race as if it were a casual tea party, but it’s anything but! It’s HARD work! I was running at a slow pace (10 or even 11-minute miles), which might sound easy, but you need to conserve energy for a distance longer than a marathon. Unfortunately, the race was in April, which meant winter training (read about a week of my training). While I have the gear for cold weather running, I’d rather avoid it, so I relied heavily on the treadmill all winter. I was committed to my training, and despite moments when I wanted to quit, Will helped me stay focused on finishing.

Trail Running

Now, let’s talk about a mistake I made. This particular ultra marathon, called the Shore 2 Shore, took us from Heckscher State Park to Sunken Meadow State Park via the Greenbelt trails. Trail running is nothing like treadmill running. On trails, you have to watch every step—muddy puddles, tree roots, ticks (yes, that happened at mile 28)—you have to be completely focused the whole time. Running on roads lets you zone out, enter a zen-like state, and before you know it, miles have passed. But in a trail run, it’s different. There was so much mud! At times, I felt like a lizard scaling fences instead of running through the mud. I don’t mind getting dirty, but wet feet for a race this long would’ve been a disaster, so I avoided mud the entire way, much to Will’s confusion.

So, treadmill running wasn’t the best preparation, but it’s better than no training at all. Throughout winter, I did long runs, short runs, strength training—I worked out six days a week, and I felt strong before the race. I don’t think I was undertrained, just a bit naive. It wasn’t until five days before the race that I actually sat down and thought, “What am I doing? How am I going to run 31 miles? What have I gotten myself into?” But Will was there, calming my nerves, assuring me that we’d finish together, which is something we rarely do since he’s much faster than me. I hesitated about running with him, not wanting to hold him back, but he insisted we stick together and offered unwavering support.

Depression

Even on the morning of the race, I questioned myself, asking, “Why am I doing this?” But all doubts faded when we crossed the finish line at 3:30 PM. I did it to challenge myself, to bond with Dadjogger, to prove to myself that I can overcome difficult challenges, and to banish negativity. There was a lot of negative self-talk during the race. At mile 14, I told Will I wanted to drop out and just complete the 25k, which ended at mile 15. I fell into a dark and scary mental state, compounded by dehydration—I tried to cry, but nothing came out. Will reassured me that such doubts were common and encouraged me to keep going, pushing me with love and positivity. He even painted a picture of post-race bliss—going home, seeing the kids, taking a shower, ordering takeout, and watching a movie with our legs up. He pulled me out of that negative space, reminding me of my accomplishments—a half marathon, a full marathon—and that I was capable of finishing.

Positivity

Will’s positivity helped shift my mood, though there were still complaints along the way. I never spiraled back into that dark state. Surprisingly, most of the hills came towards the end of the race, fitting for the Long Island terrain we were on. The hills were tough, but they were always followed by downhill stretches. My mindset going in was slow and steady. I knew I’d walk, I knew there’d be hills, I knew it’d be tough. But nothing prepares you like experiencing it for real—it’s really tough! My mindset fluctuated throughout the race, from positive and excited at mile 1 to negative and terrifying at mile 14, then somewhere in between for the rest of the race. At mile 20, I felt confident, telling myself, “Only 10 more miles, plus a little more.” But at mile 28, it was back to “How can I finish four more miles?” The mindset at an ultra marathon changes every mile, as you experience the highs and lows of the race.

Negativity

When you’re in that negative space, nothing else can penetrate your mind, leading many to DNF. I almost became one of them. I’d never considered dropping out of a race before, but this one almost broke me. The thought of DNFing and then having to call an Uber or walk back to my car was embarrassing. I figured I might as well keep running/walking and get there eventually. At some point during the race, I told Will I’d rather give birth unmedicated three times over than continue running. A big lesson I learned is to push negativity out of my mind and focus on finding even the smallest glimmer of positivity, because even in tough times, there’s always something good ahead.

Proper Gear

During the race, aside from the pain in my legs and thighs, I was well-prepared. I had vaseline to prevent chafing and the right hydration gear with my running belt, which felt like I was wearing nothing at all. I also didn’t run with headphones, a big change for me. Usually, I distract myself with podcasts or music, but running with Will, I didn’t want to be rude. So it was just me, my thoughts, and Will up ahead, cheering me on. I probably should have purchased new shoes about a month before this race, but that thought didn’t cross my mind until we were 15 minutes till the start of the race, which is always fun timing.

Nostalgia

The best part of the race was, of course, finishing, but crossing the finish line hand in hand with my best friend, who literally pulled me through (I think he dragged me the last quarter mile), was priceless. We finished at Sunken Meadow State Park, where we ran cross country together in high school. Will asked me to be his girlfriend at a beautiful October cross country meet when he was 17 and I was 16, and this finish brought me right back to that special day. Running down Snake, the smaller hill at Sunken Meadow, signaled we were close, as it was part of our high school course. The sheer joy of finishing and reminiscing about those sweet high school moments helped me power through the last half-mile at a 9-minute pace. We heard the finish line, saw the people through the trees, and tasted the success that was within reach. Thank you, Will (Dadjogger), for being patient, loyal, and positive through the toughest 7 hours of my life!

You can do hard things

You never know what you are capable of until you do it. I never thought that I would go that far but I did it and I am proud of myself. The older I get, the more confident I am in my abilities and I guess that is a lesson that you learn with age. I am forever grateful to have had such a positive experience. I said I would never do it again and that is mostly true but why not go for 25k one day soon 🙂