The Indiana Trail 50: Some People Never Learn

I first came to Chain O’ Lakes State Park in Albion, Indiana to attempt my first 100 mile trail race. It was mid- April, and the week prior to the race had me hopeful for the days to come.

Then it rained. 

A lot. 

Six inches of rain fell in the 36 hours before our 6:00 am start, and 8 minutes into the race we were walking through knee deep water. And to add to the fun, it was snowing. 

Long story short: my goal of sub 24 hours was out the window, but I eventually finished the race- with my pacer, Ms (now Mrs) Emily Ross running the last 16 miles with me- in a 29 hour slog. 

A younger person will run 100 miles for a belt buckle

Fast forward 10 years, and we were back. Emily made a goal of completing her own 50 mile race this year, and we thought a fall race gave us the best chance to show up ready after a full summer of training. We had a few open weekends in the fall, and- lo and behold!- the Indiana Trail races had been moved from April to October a few years ago. 

For the likelihood of better weather.  

Or something like that. 

We arrived Friday night in a steady light rain. As the evening wore on, temperatures dropped, winds picked up, and the rain - my goodness, the rain - persisted. 

Everybody looks good at the starting line (or the hotel before)

We wouldn't have minded the light rain and 40° temperature so much really, if both headlamps had been working at the  6:00 a.m. start. That's the thing about ultramarathons: there is no such thing as the unexpected. 

We splashed through a muddy 18 miles when my right knee showed the first signs of iliotibial band soreness.  By the time we reached the start/ finish after the first 25 mile loop, the pain had intensified, and I felt like my race could be in jeopardy. I could only run 40 to 60 steps at a time before taking a two to three minute walking break.

I was really slowing us down.

We left that aid station and by mile 31 I was in a pretty dark mental place.  We had trained all summer, and had begun doing all of our long runs together, with a plan to finish Emily's first 50 miler together as well. For me, finishing the race was now in doubt.

I began to get really, really down, telling myself that she deserved a better running partner, and I didn't want to be the type of person who quit. I was struggling to do the math, and wasn't sure if I could finish before the 15-hour cut off at 9:00 p.m. at our current pace. I was also feeling bad because I knew that Emily had stated she wanted to finish in 12 hours.

We were moving, but slowly.

And that's when the coach in Emily came out. She reminded me that this is what we were here for, that we paid for this “fun,” and we were lucky to have bodies that (mostly) allowed us to do this. 

She took all the pressure off, and reminded me that we actually had several hours to do the last 15ish miles. I was down to running 20 steps at a time before taking those walking breaks, but we began talking, laughing about the mud again, and enjoying the kindness of the volunteers at the aid stations (who are absolutely incredible, by the way). We were almost having fun!

By the time we reached the last aid station at mile 47 1/2, I knew we had one last muddy hill and then a flat stretch to get us back to the finish line. 

That’s us, I swear

It was not just my knee that took a beating that day. My ego got pretty bruised as well.  I entered the race thinking that I was going to be helping Emily finish her first 50 miler. Ultimately, it was her grace and kindness that helped me finish what could be my last one.

Some people are just slow learners.

She’s a keeper