Maggie's Road to Her First Ultra

I unknowingly wrote the first half of this blog post in April of this year. At that time, I was training for a local 20 mile trail race. I also had a secret plan, that I only told a few people about: to run an extra 6.2 miles to make it my first marathon. It felt foolish to say such a crazy goal out loud, so I hid my goal for fear of jinxing myself. 

I ended up loving the race, which was two ten mile loops. As my confidence built during the race, the second lap felt easier than the first. I loved meeting other members of the community, waving at other runners passing by, and the adrenaline of chasing after the goal I had spent months working toward.

I ran through the finish line where my friends and coach waited for me. I later learned that they had expected me to take a breather and prep for the final few miles. Instead, I beelined for my coach and gasped “let’s go!” It was the first time I felt something I now love about long runs--the unending drive to keep moving forward. It was this inertia that pulled me up a final big hill and to my first marathon finish. Before I even finished, Coach Laura was prodding me about doing my first ultra. 

Around halfway through my 20 mile race, I was feeling confident and excited to see what else I could do.

An ultramarathon is any foot race over 26.2 miles. They range from 24 hour looped courses to 50 mile mountain races to insane 888 mile journeys. They take place on roads, trails, beaches, tracks, anywhere you can run. In fact, running isn’t even mandatory--save for the top finishers at most races, you’ll find ultra runners walking some of the course. Whether due to hills, technical terrain, sleep deprivation, or simply needing to eat, you’ll spot runners often “power hiking” during a course. It’s not a test of speed for most people, but of endurance, willpower, and mental toughness.

So 25-ish miles into my first marathon, I found that I hadn’t found my wall yet. I agreed, although terrified, to run my first ultra that fall. I chose the Morgan Hill Meat Grinder, a terrifying moniker for a tough course that promised “roots, rocks, blood, mud, and sweat.” I wanted to find my wall, the spot where I could go no further and maybe would never want to. 

I spent all summer training. On trails, on roads, alone, and with dozens of my friends, I found that every run brought something different. Some runs were navigated in near pitch black with a torrential downpour, others were in the blazing heat of August on the Onondaga Lake Parkway. 

I learned and relearned how to eat while I was running--yes pickles and pb&js, no to carbonated soda and gu gels. I left many social events early and I convinced friends to run “just a few more miles” with me. I even tricked my friend Terry into running his first marathon with me on the Parkway. I spent nearly all of a Saturday with friends out in the woods, studying the Morgan Hill course and learning its tricks.

The great thing about running with a training program is that you get to celebrate other people’s accomplishments. Terry ran his first marathon with me on a horribly hot day. No spectators, no finish line, no aid stations…just grit!

When you aim to run 50 miles in one go, you’ll probably never feel fully prepared. Such a long race allows for so much to go wrong: the weather, your stomach, the course, or even just your mood. We lined up before dawn one September morning and I felt sick to my stomach. Actually, my eyes even welled with tears and I dashed back to my partner for one last reassurance before I set out. 

The start for long races is anticlimactic. So much anticipation, but it’d be foolish to dash out like mad with so much time on your feet ahead of you. So our headlamps illuminated the way ahead, and we settled into a gentle jog. I spent over 20 miles with three of my competitors, talking about our past races, our jobs, and the terrain. Ironically, it’s hard to be in a rush during an ultra, so we steadily chatted, even if just complaining about the harder climbs. 

Sunrise during the Morgan Hill Meat Grinder. This was my first time running from dawn to dusk.

I spent the next 14 hours running, walking, sweating, eating, talking, and thinking as I climbed around 8,000 feet of elevation gain over the hills in Tully. One of the special things about ultras is that for equal parts safety and sanity, many races allow you to have a friend pace you. For me, this meant Laura meeting me 30 miles into my race, buoying me through when my mind and legs were equally tired. My training paid off, and though as the sunset I became fatigued, I never felt weak or unprepared.  

The last few miles were in the dark of night on country roads, and I soon saw a light approaching us. In my slightly delirious state, I thought it was a dog or cat with a light. It turned out to be our friend on a bike, coming to tell me I was the second place woman. Energized, I ran towards the bright light of the finish. 

There was not only a trophy (!) but many of my friends who had trained with me. Months of training, early mornings, and hundreds of miles culminated at this moment. Less than two years after I began running, I ran and placed in my first ultramarathon, thanks in no small part to my friends and coaches with Fleet Feet’s distance and trail training programs. 

Sweaty, tired, aching, but successful!