5:24 AM. Standing at the start line with graham crackers in my hand and nerves in my stomach, I couldn’t eat a full breakfast – my pre-race anxiety had kicked in hard. But after a year of setbacks, injuries, and rebuilding, I was finally here. Ready to tackle 50 miles of North Carolina trails.
What followed was 12 hours of everything ultrarunning throws at you: crushing climbs, scorching heat, dark lows, and ultimately, one of the most satisfying finishes of my running career.
The 6:00 AM start felt early, but there’s something magical about watching the sun come up on race day. By mile 6.7, about an hour and a half in, I was settling into a sustainable pace just under 6-minute kilometers. The terrain was surprisingly runnable for an ultra, and I felt strong.
But there was one problem: I’d skipped caffeine that morning. Big mistake. I was feeling flat and tired, knowing I wouldn’t see my crew until mile 12. Sometimes in ultras, you learn lessons the hard way.
Hitting that first crew station at mile 11.77 after 2 hours and 42 minutes felt like salvation. My amazing crew had everything dialed in – electrolytes, nutrition, hydration, and most importantly, encouragement.
“Put an electrolyte in one bottle, Liquid IV in another, and if they have Tailwind, use that. If not, just water,” I rattled off my requests while trying to stay efficient but not rushed.
Having a crew that knows your needs and keeps you calm is everything in ultra racing. These people literally keep you moving when your brain starts questioning every life choice that led you to running 50 miles voluntarily.
As we approached Pinnacle Mountain with the sun now fully up, I felt a familiar excitement. “Honestly, we all know me – I love me some rock gardens and high stepping. Feels like home,” I said into my camera.
There’s something about technical terrain that just clicks for me. While others struggle with the rocks and elevation, I thrive on it. The climbing felt strong, controlled, and sustainable. This is why I fell in love with trail running.
By mile 18, I’d crushed nearly two bottles of Gatorade plus 1,000mg of sodium, along with a feast of pretzels and crackers stolen from aid stations. About 300-400 calories in the span of an hour – finally getting on top of my fueling after feeling behind early.
The rolling section was testing my patience, but I stayed steady. One thing ultras teach you: it’s not about going fast, it’s about not slowing down.
Then it hit. Mile 25. The low that every ultrarunner knows is coming but still hits like a truck.
“I hit a really hard low in that middle section,” I told my crew, trying to catch my breath and reset. But this is where experience and proper crew support shine. They got me sorted with nutrition, fluids, and the mental boost I needed to push through.
Crossing the halfway mark, my crew reported: “She said she hit a low point but she seems like she was doing great… she got a bunch of food in her, drank some Sprite, got some sugar. I think she’s ready to rock.”
The thing about ultras is that you can feel absolutely terrible and still be performing well. Your perception of how you’re doing often doesn’t match reality. Trust your crew, trust your training, and keep moving forward.
By the 50K mark (31 miles), the real enemy revealed itself: heat. “My legs are definitely tired like I ran 30 miles, but nothing unexpected. The heat is what’s really getting me.”
I’d lost heat adaptation during some cooler training weeks, and it was showing. “I feel like I can’t keep up with fluid intake, but all you can do is keep drinking constantly.”
Then came the moment that perfectly captures the absurdity of ultrarunning: I threw up because a manure truck drove by. Mile 30.4, Hanging Rock in sight, and the rankest smell imaginable sent me over the edge. Sometimes it’s not the mileage that gets you – it’s the random cow poop truck.
Despite feeling like “a soup sandwich” at the final aid station with 8.2 miles to go, something shifted. Maybe it was knowing the end was near, maybe it was stubbornness, but I found another gear.
“I want to be the person I am in the last 10 miles of an ultra every day of my life,” I said, and I meant it. There’s something about that final push where everything crystallizes – all the pain, all the training, all the doubt gets channeled into pure forward motion.
I hit 50 miles at 12:05 – only 8 minutes slower than my previous 50-mile time. After a year of injuries, setbacks, and slowly rebuilding, this felt like complete validation.
“If I didn’t get hot today, I did everything I wanted to do. I have more in me,” I reflected. The heat cost me some time, but the execution was there. The fitness was there. I was back.
My crew reported: “All the people who used to come in before you were suffering, and you were up here.” That consistency, that ability to negative split an ultra – that’s what all the training was for.
This wasn’t just about finishing 50 miles. This was about proving to myself that after everything – the foot injury, the hip issues, the lost fitness, the slow rebuild – I’m still the person who does hard things.
Ultras strip away all the pretense and show you exactly who you are. They reveal your character, your resilience, and your ability to problem-solve under duress. This race reminded me why I fell in love with this ridiculous, beautiful sport.
This performance didn’t happen by accident. It was built on months of consistent training using the principles I teach in The Lyss Method – progressive base building, smart periodization, and learning to listen to your body while still pushing forward.
The strength training, the volume progression, the back-to-back long runs, the hill repeats – every piece mattered. But more than that, it was about rebuilding confidence in my body’s ability to handle what I ask of it.
Crossing that finish line wasn’t an ending – it was a beginning. After proving I could come back from setbacks stronger than before, the question isn’t whether I can do hard things anymore. It’s what hard thing I want to tackle next.
For now, I’m savoring this moment. The satisfaction of a goal achieved, fitness validated, and confidence restored. The comeback really is better than the throwback.
For those following their own comeback journey, whether from injury, life changes, or just needing to prove something to yourself – keep showing up. Trust the process. And remember: you’re capable of so much more than you think, especially when things get really hard.
Here’s to 50 miles of beautiful suffering and the reminder that we’re all stronger than we know.
Keywords: 50 mile ultramarathon, ultramarathon race recap, trail running race report, ultra running comeback, 50 mile trail race, ultramarathon training, comeback from injury running, ultra endurance racing
I’m Exercise Physiologist, sports nutritionist, weight lifter, and ultra runner. I am here to bring science to your training in a no-nonsense way. I have helped thousands of women crush big lifting goals, cross race finish lines, and even do both. I’m here to help you do the same!
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