I knew the Blue Ridge Ultra 50k would be steep. But you know how often terrain profiles are blown so out of proportion that it’s easy to gloss over the many climbs? This was not one of those times.
Preparing for Blue Ridge Ultra
We signed up for the Blue Ridge Ultra 50k as a test trace to check our systems after recovering from Silverheels 100k and in preparation for the Natchez Trace 50 miler. Did the race description highlight the steep terrain? Yes. But we had just run a 100k in the Rocky Mountains. How bad could this be?
Don’t get me wrong, we did train. I spent a lot of time running steep, sustained inclines. But a lot of that was on my own while Chris used the bike, recovering from an injury. But we would have better understood what we were getting into if things had gone as planned. The plan was to arrive two days before the race to scope out the trail. What actually happened was a tire leak that force us to delay our departures while the tire stem was replaced.
Instead, we had one day to hike a few miles along the Benton MacKaye Trail, which formed the majority of the course, and pick up our badges.
Race Day
It was already in the 60s when we followed the lead pack sprinting down the first half mile of flat pavement to shuffle into order before turning off onto the steep wooded single track of the Benton MacKaye Trail. The trail is full of mind fakes where it feels like we’re about to peak, only to be confronted with more climbing. For the first time, I rely heavily on the elevation profile setting on my watch, which shows me how much further of a climb I have ahead. Is it runnable or is it time to hike?
The race’s first half is brutal climbs and gnarly descents, culminating in a sustained climb to the summit of Rhode Mountain and back down.
Running Buddies
Through this, Chris and I have been running together. But at the halfway point, Chris’s legs lock up. We knew he might have some lingering injuries that could take him out of the race, so we’d already talked through the possibility of splitting. When he tells me to go, I go.
Much of the return is on a gradual incline along Jeep trails, my strength. In the build-up to this race, I spent a lot of time grinding steep and sustained inclines on the treadmill to prepare for this. Now, with a gradual climb, I can pick up the pace and start reeling in some of the runners that were ahead of me.
Shout out to my hat buddy. It was great to still spot a friendly face along this more lonely stretch of trail.
Doubt
I particularly needed the reassurance because, at this point, the trail deviates from the map we uploaded to our watches. Where, in the past, the route cut back onto single track to reconnect with the course we started on, I encountered flags and signs insisting that this is not the way. Instead, we continue on the jeep path.
I appreciate the easier footing this late in the race, but my mind reels in the face of the unknown. What if I miss the turn? The route, in many cases, has been well marked and wrong turns have been blocked by signs. Now, however, I can’t find a single flag to confirm that I am still on the course. I’d be lying if I said the doubt didn’t get to my head. A close look at my course details reveals the many times I stopped or walked to check my route, and even where I doubled back a few times. (Who knows how much time I lost while second-guessing the course?)
Chris is gone, I’m running low on water, and I have no idea if I’m even on the right path. My one consolation: I’m either on the course and in second place or I’m lost and the podium is well out of my grasp. The only potentially winning scenario is to keep going forward. So away I go.
Back on Track
I scream when I finally spot one of the course’s yellow trail flags. I moan when the gravel road deposits me on a paved incline. And I chug water when I finally reach the next aid station and can refill my empty water flasks.
The last stretch of the Jeep trail is exposed to the Georgia sun, roasting runners at 82 degrees and high humidity. I fall back into a speed hike and am almost grateful when the course pops back onto the single track we started on.
5 miles left? -ish?
It’s just me in the forest now, looking for a sign that the end is nigh. And when you are looking, it’s so easy to find…and be wrong.
I have returned to the rolling hills that typified the beginning of the race—full of false peaks and steep descents. Here and there is a faintly familiar landmark: a trail crossing, a downed tree trunk, a hint at a vista. I descend to pavement, ready to sprint to the end, only to recall that, yes, there was that other pavement crossing. Yes, I still have miles to go.
I encounter more runners on the trail as I overtake the tail end of the shorter distance runners.
When I do finally reach the pavement, it’s a surprise. And I could swear I sprinted to the end. My watch doesn’t agree, but what does it know?
At the Finish Line
I’m exhausted, exhilarated, and worried out of my mind. The whole last half of the race, I’ve pushed down worries about Chris. What if he was worse than we thought when I left? What if he got lost? What if he ran out of water? What if a bear attacked him and dragged him into one of the remote hollers, never to be seen again? I check with the organizers: has anyone been hospitalized? Is anyone in trouble at the aid stations? Has anyone reported an incredibly handsome man in yellow and blue coming through? Nothing.
I try to occupy myself by cleaning up a little and drinking a couple of cold sodas. We have a lunch ticket with our run, but I wait to collect mine so I can eat with Chris. Instead, I watch the course and wait for a bright yellow shirt. Eventually, I start walking back along the course until I meet up with a group of observers who are waiting for their friends and family. We cheer in finishers until I see a flash of yellow and yell, “That’s my guy!” I may have had to finish alone, but Chris didn’t. We cross the finish line, hand in hand.
As soon as he finishes, I usher him to a seat by the river, give him a soda, and pick up lunch, and then sat down to hear Chris’s experience.
Chris’s Race
Chris was happily surprised how well his body handled the first half of the race. He was keeping up well and feeling reasonably strong.
By the time we had summited Rhodes Mountain, halfway through the race, Chris knew he had a problem. We were aware of previous muscle pain, but on the way, down, his legs were locking up. At the aid station where we split up, Chris sat down to chew salt tabs, swig hydration drink, and reclaim control over his cramping legs. And while he was able to eventually continue along the course, any time he tried to run, his legs would cramp up again.
It was a completely different race experience, hanging out and chatting with the back of the packers. Where I had passed other runners with a wave and a word of encouragement, he shared stories. Was it the race he had planned for? No. But it was its own kind of enriching experience.
After the Race
We sat by the river for a few hours as different parts of Chris’s body cramped up and gradually released. When the worst appeared to have passed, we drove back to our campsite to scrounge for food, salt, and an early bed.
Now? Food. Sleep. Repeat.
Blue Ridge Ultra 50k Splits
| Mile | Pace | GAP | Elev | HR | Cadence |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 10:43 /mi | 7:50 /mi | 362 ft | 160 bpm | 156 spm |
| 2 | 10:50 /mi | 9:00 /mi | -123 ft | 156 bpm | 160 spm |
| 3 | 15:57 /mi | 9:02 /mi | 642 ft | 162 bpm | 132 spm |
| 4 | 13:11 /mi | 9:44 /mi | 155 ft | 154 bpm | 148 spm |
| 5 | 13:41 /mi | 10:41 /mi | -14 ft | 149 bpm | 142 spm |
| 6 | 16:08 /mi | 10:47 /mi | 261 ft | 151 bpm | 124 spm |
| 7 | 12:48 /mi | 11:45 /mi | -292 ft | 141 bpm | 156 spm |
| 8 | 13:31 /mi | 11:36 /mi | -102 ft | 145 bpm | 144 spm |
| 9 | 13:37 /mi | 10:01 /mi | 262 ft | 153 bpm | 142 spm |
| 10 | 12:42 /mi | 9:54 /mi | -62 ft | 151 bpm | 148 spm |
| 11 | 12:21 /mi | 10:00 /mi | -52 ft | 151 bpm | 148 spm |
| 12 | 12:19 /mi | 10:40 /mi | -338 ft | 143 bpm | 152 spm |
| 13 | 16:16 /mi | 12:30 /mi | 47 ft | 142 bpm | 124 spm |
| 14 | 17:01 /mi | 10:24 /mi | 600 ft | 156 bpm | 130 spm |
| 15 | 16:14 /mi | 12:19 /mi | 61 ft | 151 bpm | 138 spm |
| 16 | 11:30 /mi | 11:57 /mi | -528 ft | 141 bpm | 162 spm |
| 17 | 12:03 /mi | 12:05 /mi | -260 ft | 142 bpm | 148 spm |
| 18 | 10:31 /mi | 9:47 /mi | 68 ft | 155 bpm | 166 spm |
| 19 | 9:45 /mi | 9:31 /mi | -47 ft | 156 bpm | 170 spm |
| 20 | 10:05 /mi | 9:48 /mi | -19 ft | 154 bpm | 170 spm |
| 21 | 10:30 /mi | 10:13 /mi | -31 ft | 152 bpm | 166 spm |
| 22 | 11:28 /mi | 11:01 /mi | 2 ft | 148 bpm | 156 spm |
| 23 | 11:05 /mi | 10:41 /mi | 12 ft | 149 bpm | 166 spm |
| 24 | 11:08 /mi | 10:22 /mi | -14 ft | 149 bpm | 160 spm |
| 25 | 17:00 /mi | 13:52 /mi | 295 ft | 141 bpm | 116 spm |
| 26 | 11:24 /mi | 10:36 /mi | 11 ft | 146 bpm | 152 spm |
| 27 | 18:06 /mi | 12:12 /mi | 358 ft | 151 bpm | 114 spm |
| 28 | 11:33 /mi | 12:07 /mi | -491 ft | 142 bpm | 164 spm |
| 29 | 14:12 /mi | 11:13 /mi | -199 ft | 148 bpm | 146 spm |
| 30 | 13:31 /mi | 11:22 /mi | -209 ft | 148 bpm | 150 spm |
| 31 | 11:45 /mi | 11:07 /mi | -317 ft | 149 bpm | 160 spm |
| 0.41 | 10:25 /mi | 10:22 /mi | 0 ft | 159 bpm | 148 spm |
