Ultra at Last: Taylor Mountain 50k Race Report

“They said you’ve got great hair for this.”

–Woman at the finish line of the 2016 Taylor Mountain 50k

No kidding.

Taylor Mountain was not supposed to be my first 50k. I hadn’t planned on running it at all, but after developing runner’s knee (due to being an idiot who ran through pain instead of taking time off), I had to sit out the 50k I was training for, Soaring Eagle. Fortunately, Evergreen Trail Runs allows you to transfer your registration to another race, so onward to Taylor Mountain.

Mentally, I  was prepared for my first ultra, even if I didn’t know what to expect. It’s 5 miles longer than a marathon, so that didn’t seem very intimidating to me. Even the toughness of the course, with its 3 river crossings and 5600′ of gain didn’t worry me. What did worry me was my knees. My running coach, Yassine, had given me a time frame during which I needed to turn a corner, or he was going to have me withdraw from the race. While I did turn that corner, my knee certainly wasn’t 100% going into the race, and I was very concerned about how it would hold up. It wasn’t so much the prospect of a DNF at Taylor Mountain that troubled me; rather, it was the fact that this was my last chance to get a 50k under my belt before my first 50 miler. If my knee couldn’t hold for 50k, then White River was going to be out of the question. I refused to accept this as a possibility. I had already spent one summer sitting out due to injury, and it wasn’t going to happen again.

Adam, my running husband as most people know him, picked me up early that morning to make our way up to Taylor. We met up with some running friends and mentors, Karey, Nicole, Amy, and Jason. They all gave me encouragement and veteran suggestions, and Amy joked that I picked a hell of a course for my first 50k. I was secretly pleased that this was considered a tough course. Finishing it would prove to me that I could run White River.

What a great race and incredible group of people. Trail runners really are a different breed, and I absolutely love this community. I feel at a loss for words to describe the atmosphere; it’s different from a road race and charged with a unique energy. I was thrilled to be among them. I even made my peace with Evergreen Trail Runs, as they finally gave me the shirt I ordered a year and a half ago.

Within the first mile, we reached the major water crossing. I was amazed at how many runners tried their damnedest to keep their feet dry. They wasted a lot of energy on that futile endeavor. I plowed past them straight through the water. The cold was a shock, but it felt good at the same time.

Forging the water crossing. Photo courtesy Pronounce Photography.

The monster hill of Taylor Mountain was there to greet us on the other side. It was muddy as hell already and would only get worse with each loop. A few strong souls ran up it, but most of us walked or power hiked this beast. The hill was relentless, but even the most stubbornly long hills must reach their climax. I was grateful to have Adam there. He did the talking, which kept my mind off running and made the time fly by. We picked up another first-time ultra runner, Lisa, and chatted with her as we slogged through the shoe-sucking mud.

At some point, I ended up in the lead, with Adam, Lisa, and another runner behind. While Adam had (repeatedly) warned me to take it easy on the first loop, I couldn’t help myself and ran faster than planned. It was so easy to get caught up in feeling strong and being grateful that I could be out there running through this beautiful forest, and that translated into a faster pace. By the time we completed loop one (13.1 miles), I had beat my fastest half marathon time by 30 minutes. My favorite part was when a woman at the aid station asked me if I had just finished my first or second loop. Ha!

Onto the second loop. After climbing that hill for the second time, my legs weren’t so happy, but the knee was holding up. Adam continued to chat away the miles, and we made trail friends along the way. One seasoned ultra runner, training for a Western States qualifier this summer, gave me some tips. His main tip: “Eat. Eat a lot. When your stomach hurts, eat. Just keep eating.” The “even when your stomach hurts” part stuck with me, and I have heard his voice echoing in my head on future runs. Thanks, runner! (I also loved that he asked anyone he could for a Western States update, since it was under way as we ran.) At some point, Lisa pulled ahead of us. Adam and I leap frogged another runner who was clearly a great runner but who was having a tough day. When Adam insisted on stopping to take in a view at one point, this guy came up from behind us and playfully-ish said, “No, fuck you, keep going!”  He meant it, but he was also trying to have fun with the situation and laugh at himself. He looked rough, but we must have irritated him enough, because eventually the leap frogging game ended when we never caught back up to him again. I was also happy to have learned a lesson from a running mentor, Marie, who has a spare of anything you might need on a course. When we passed a runner who was having serious cramping issues, I was able to give him some electrolyte tabs and water to keep him going. I have learned to keep plenty of those tabs on me, and it’s allowed me to help out other runners other courses.

As we approached the finish line to close out loop 2 (26.2 miles), Adam and I would part ways, and I would go into uncharted waters on a final 5-mile loop. Everything moving forward would be my longest run ever. I made a quick pit stop (thanks to Karey for reminding me that even though the loop was “just 5 miles,” it would take me over an hour to complete it) and I heard someone say in my direction in a very firm voice, “hurry up!” The voice sounded like a sterm version of Karey, even though that didn’t seem in character for her. Whoever it was, they prompted me to get in gear and get back out. As I picked up the pace and left my crew, Adam told me Alexander was there. I looked up in surprise, not expecting him to have driven all the way out there when he wasn’t running, and it gave me a lift to see him waving as I headed back for one final loop, solo.

Ready for the solo loop! Photo courtesy of Karey

As much as I loved running the first two loops with company, I was excited to go out for the final loop alone. This is coming from someone who was initially intimidated by the forests of the PNW and the bears and mountain lions that were surely waiting to pounce on me. In the Midwest, we sadly no longer have those apex predators; there are no wild animals that could potentially kill you on a hike in Indiana. My first hikes in Washington were tense. I carried a bear bell, inquired about bear spray, and talked loudly and constantly. Here I was now, going out alone, and happy to do so.

I passed a group of hikers near the river crossing. They wished me luck, and for a moment I considered asking them to watch me cross to make sure I made it to the other side. Just as quickly, I dismissed that thought. Solo means solo. That icy water felt wonderful on my tired feet, a great lift before the long haul up the mountain. I passed a runner who was clearly in pain and encouraged him as I slipped by. From there out, I saw no one.

A very loud rustle in a dense pocket of foliage interrupted my thoughts, and I told myself that it was just a very, very large bird to quiet the voice in my head that knew it was a bear. Later, I would learn other runners had seen a bear on the course. What a step forward from that earlier self with my bear bell and fear. It seems that I am finding my place in the Pacific Northwest. That, or I was just too tired at that point to care.

The five-mile loop veered off from the longer loop, and it had less tree cover. The sun was intense, and I didn’t have enough nutrition with me. I felt a little delirious and occasionally spoke my thoughts out loud. Being the snake-magnet that I am, I of course encountered a snake out here, too. Fortunately, he was more interested in sunning than slithering, so I passed by without disturbing him. It’s the slithering, more than anything, that gives me the creeps.

Just when I was losing steam, I came across an unmanned aid station. Not only was there water, but there was also a box of Clif gels. Fist bumps ensued. I had never been so excited to choke down that stuff. It gave me the boost I needed, and I picked up the pace for the final few miles, most of which were downhill. I could hear folks at the finish line as I approached and quickened my pace even more. What an incredible experience it was, coming out of the woods to hear a group of friends there roaring with cheers as I made my way to the finish line! They had all stayed to cheer me in, even those who had run the half marathon. That is a very long time to wait around, and I cannot express my gratitude enough. It meant so much to me to have that support as I completed my first ultra. Thank you Adam, Karey, Nicole, Amy, Jason, and Alexander. I will never forget that finish.

As the race director congratulated me on finishing my first 50k, everyone gathered around to celebrate. A woman came over to me and said, “They said you’ve got great hair for this!” I had no idea what that meant, but my friends all laughed and agreed with her. I later learned that they had actually said, as I went out for the solo loop, “She’s really got it up here,” pointing to their heads but meaning great mental toughness, not great hair. I will take mental toughness over great hair any day, and this was one of the most meaningful compliments I’ve ever received, especially coming from seasoned ultra runners.

My time wasn’t anything to brag about. It took 6 hours and 50 minutes to complete the 50k. Given the 5600′ of gain and horrendous trail conditions, that isn’t so bad. It was a tough, tough, course, but I smiled the entire way. I never went to a dark place, never hit a wall. I loved every muddy second of it.

I was finally an ultra runner, and I was hooked.