So three years go yesterday, I ran my (first?) ultramarathon—the Dick Collins Firetrails 50, in the Bay Area. Fifty miles, 8,000 feet of elevation, eleven hours. It hurt. I didn’t think it would be possible. I couldn’t wrap my mind that the longest training run was thirty miles. And I had to add twenty to that?! But I survived…barely!
The first thirty miles flew by. Thirty to forty was slower. Forty to fifty felt like an eternity. I spent those last ten miles telling myself how stupid this idea was, how this would be my last run ever, how I should just quit and grab the cold beer that the college students were offering from their impromptu aid station.
It really was just about not quitting. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming. I am amazed at how much the human body can do if the brain is not allowed to have its way. I was by no means the fastest. But I made it.