09/27/2021
Goal was set over 6 months ago, just a wild idea that turned into a reality!
It was a few restless sleeps that lead up to the main event, but when it came time to line up, I was there. It was a warm start (considering start time weather of past VT50 events), but I was still pretty chilled. It took a mile or so of running for the chattering of my teeth to stop. I fell into step with some ladies in the very back of the pack. We chatted and laughed, but I parted ways with a couple of them at the first aid station. Alicia and I leap frogged each several times, and her smile was infectious and her positive attitude was just what I needed. At this time, I was also keeping pace with Aheem, a very nice gentleman from Maine that has run the VT50 A LOT of times since the early 2000s. He also contributed great conversation and a positive attitude.
My first meet up with my amazing husband and crew took place at the Skunk Hollow aid station, and it couldn't have come at a better time! To hear words of encouragement from my husband just filled up my fuel tank. I quickly loaded up my backpack with a fresh supply of energy food and with a quick kiss, said goodbye. It would be 20 miles before I would see him again.
I rolled into the Garvin Hill aid station atop a grassy field to find an amazing panoramic view of the surrounding mountains. My watch told me that the aid station was closer than I anticipated, and I was making good time. Being that reaching this aid station before cut off was my biggest concern of the whole race, I slowed my pace. Doing that, along with my GPS then telling me I was 0.8 miles further along than I really was, really caught me off guard and put me in the position to play catch up to the closing times of the aid stations for the remainder of the run.
The next aid station at Cady Brook seemed to take forever to get to. I rolled in a few minutes (at least by my watch) after the aid station had closed. I topped off my water and took off with a message of close timing from the wonderful volunteers at the station. I knew to get to the next aid station on time, I was going to have to push it.
I ran up the hills, which I haven't done for quite some time, because I just knew any extra effort could be the difference between being pulled from the course or just sliding through right before it closed. I got to the Margaritaville station a few minutes early, but I knew I couldn't let off the gas. I topped off my water, ate a piece of watermelon and was off again. The next stretch was mostly trails, and I did my best to keep a steady pace, only walking up the steepest of hills. At this point, the energy foods I had with me weren't sounding very good, but I forced myself to eat a few times an hour to keep the fires burning. I got to the Greenall's 50K aid station about 10 or so minutes prior to shut down to hear my husband cheering loudly for me! What a relief! This would solidify my Ultramarathon attempt, and be my longest run ever. A little voice in the back of my mind told me this would be good enough. I quickly shoved that thought aside. I was developing some hot spots on my feet, so I changed socks, scarfed my "race fuel" from Mojo Cafe, downed some Dr. Pepper and took off again. I knew I was still racing against cut-off and being pulled off the course.
I started passing people along the trail, my desire to chat was gone so that I could conserve all of the available strength and mental focus for running. This stretch was tough. Mentally I was spent. A few errors on closing times of aid stations and mileages had already almost ended my attempt. My legs were burning, but my breathing was still even. I just had to try my best, that's all I could ask of myself. I snapped back to reality when I heard a cowbell, loud music and some cheering. I had made it, or I thought I had. I came across a home-made aid station offering free beer. I was offered a tasty ice cold lager, but declined. The guy that offered me the beer then let me know that I had 1 mile left to the official aid station. Crap. I wasn't going to make it. I had less than 12 minutes to go and a mile of rolling hills. I couldn't go down without a fight though. I cruised through the downhills forcing myself to add as much speed as I could muster, and tried to run all of the uphills. For what seemed like miles and miles, I kept an eye on my watch and increased my speed for every minute closer to the cut off time. Then I saw it! It was up a short, but steep hill. A check of my watch told me that I was 2 minutes, nope now 3 minutes late. The volunteer there immediately offered to fill my water. In between gasps for air, I asked if I had made it. She told me stop talking, grab some food and get back out there. Extreme relief! I have never felt so grateful! I didn't bother looking at the food, but instead took off at the same pace down the trail. Just 2 aid stations left! I started to realize that I might be able to make this happen. A very powerful thought.
I started to pass more and more people. At this point, both the 50K and 50 mile runners were mixed in, so I had no idea who was running what. My notice of "passing on the left" was becoming more faint. I forced myself to eat again. I don't remember much of this section. But I came into the aid station 12 minutes ahead of cut-off, which felt amazing! I grabbed some salt caps and water and was off again. It would be 6.1 miles before the next aid station, and I found myself repeating a mantra of "47.2" in my head over and over again, which would be the total miles on my watch of when I would arrive at the final aid station. I again kept looking at my watch. Even though I had arrived at the previous station 12 minutes early, I was quickly squandering this lead and again was on the verge of not making it to Johnson's aid station on time. I knew I was within 0.2 miles of the station, with just minutes to make it happen. I opened up the fires and ran. At the bottom of the driveway to the aid station, a volunteer there told me that I had 4 minutes to sprint up the hill before the aid station closed. The guy next to me turned to me and said, "Let's do this!" We got to the check in just before the aid station closed. WOW. At this point, I knew I was going to finish, just not sure whether it would be within the 12 hour limit or not. Kevin was there to take the extra food that I couldn't even stomach to look at, and swapped my empties for fresh cold water. I was spent. I wasn't sure I would be able to do anything other than walk the last 2ish miles into the finish line. But then I met up with the 2 guys I would cross the finish line with, one of them being the guy that sprinted to the final aid station at the same time as me.
It was a brutal climb. My legs were shot, but I was riding a high. I knew that I would cross the line. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. We dipped into the woods, and the waning light became apparent. The rocks and roots became very difficult to see, with all three of us tripping, but catching our balance, many times. We passed a sign, 1.5 miles to go with enough time to do it in the 12 hours. A definite confidence boost immediately got to all three of us. 1 mile to go... 0.5 miles to go. We could hear the finish line, the trees opened up and we were running down the ski run. Then I heard it, the loud cheering from Kevin, Susanna, and Greg. The exhaustion faded just enough to smile and speed the pace a little. I was ready to cross the line, but the trail kept up with these long switchbacks making the finish line seem further away. Then there it was, the finisher's chute. The clock read 12:17 when I crossed the line (it was because the bikers started the clock and they went out first). My official finish time was 11:56:43. My efforts were enough to beat the cut-off. I collapsed into a hug with Kevin. I started to cry. I had done it. Overwhelmed, and very very tired, but I had done it. My running club friend had also finished making the Mt. Hilly Runners 2/2 for 50 mile finishers!
I want to stress that there is no way I could've done this without the support from my husband, crew chief, and best friend, Kevin Hollebeek. It wasn't only a sacrifice of a beautiful Sunday in Vermont, but the 6+ months of my training being squeezed in between work schedules, weekend plans, and family life. My kids, who have seen my efforts in training to now see them come to fruition means a lot to me. I received a hug from my son on Saturday, and he told me he believed in me. I won't lie, I went directly to this hug and those words many times when I just wanted to slow down and succumb to the exhaustion. It's not that I didn't want to let him down, for sometimes we don't reach our goals. It was that he believed in me so much, that I believed him. He was right.
I also owe a lot of gratitude to my community, who rallied behind me in a number that I just did not see coming. I often thought of everyone's kind words and encouragement. Kevin would quickly update me at the aid stations to let me know that so many people were cheering for me. I am humbled by your support.
With love and appreciation,
-Katie
