50k in my 50s

The year I turned 50, I was managing a lot of change in my life. I moved to a different state, lost my 15-year-old dog, got a new puppy, and was adjusting to life with much less structure. After a 30-year career, I found myself without a job and privileged enough to think about early retirement. While this newfound freedom was exciting, it was also terrifying to no longer have career goals, a set schedule or expectations about how I spend my time.

That was more than two years ago, and since then I haven’t had to set my regular 5am alarm to run before a long day of work. I can have a casual breakfast and tea while the sun melts the frozen ground and warms the air enough to make my runs downright pleasant. I can make elaborate salads for lunch without needing to hop back online for more conference calls or a crushing inbox of emails. I plan road trips with my husband and dog and find a few volunteer opportunities to fill my time. Not having a schedule is a breath of fresh air, but it also feels like paddling my standup paddleboard when I forget to attach the fin before launching it into the lake.

Last summer, I trained with some Trail Sisters friends to do a double crossing of the Grand Canyon, only to bail after one crossing due to heat and timing issues. We didn’t follow a particular training program, rather just relied on all of our collective experience prepping for ultramarathons and long days in the mountains. By this past winter, after turning 52, I was craving some structure to my schedule and wanted to see if my aging body could handle the demands of a timed ultra race. I hadn’t completed one since I was 48.

I kept my fitness up over the winter and signed up for a 10-mile race in March and a 25k in June. But I couldn’t shake the idea of tackling another 50k this summer. I scoured local events and decided to sign up for the Three Sisters Skyline 50k on September 20, about a month after my 53rd birthday in August. I invited my friend from out of state, Lana, who was getting back into running after an achilles surgery to do her first ultra with me, and found us a 16-week training plan online.

I printed off the training plan and folded it neatly into the notebook I use for my to-do lists. Each week, I studied the prescribed runs for the days ahead and jotted down the mileage tracked by my Garmin watch. I secured permits for trails I could run once the snow relented and invited friends to join me on longer runs. I downloaded audio books and podcasts to fill the hours I was alone on the trails. I took my dog on runs along rivers and creeks, letting him stop to fetch sticks and get drinks of cold snowmelt. I even ran into a black bear on one long solo run and took photos of the wildflowers as they bloomed and died throughout the summer. I got up early on camping trips to find trails nearby and planned my long runs around weather and wildfire smoke.

The training plan gave me structure I had been craving and also brought me closer to Lana. We shared stories about the wildlife we ran into (the bear for me and a snake for her), along with the domestic animals that crossed our paths (a cat on a leash for me, free range cows for her). We shared our aches, pains and scrapes, along with emergency bathroom and nutrition issues that came up over nearly 550 miles of running.

I picked Lana up at the airport a couple of days before the race and we stopped by the local running store for last-minute supplies. After a day of lounging by the pool and staying hydrated, we loaded up our running vests and planned our early morning drive to the start of the race in Sisters, OR. We picked up our race bibs as the sun came up and boarded shuttles to the start line. I bumped into other Trail Sisters I had only met online, thankful there would be even more women I could bump into on the course. We started the GPS tracking on our watches and ran off into the mountains with about 150 other nervous runners.

The first 10 miles of the 50k are uphill on a single track full of lava rock and technical footing. There was a fair amount of power hiking and polite requests to pass or be passed while finding a comfortable pace. While Lana had wanted to run with me, she is 13 years my junior and I knew she would be able to run faster. I told her to go ahead and settled into my own rhythm and balance between watching my feet and trying to take in the incredible views of the Oregon Cascades.

The next 10 miles of the race were downhill through the same rocky terrain and the unseasonably warm temperatures made me pause to refill my electrolytes and water at each aid station. As I entered the last 12 miles, I tripped on a rock or a root and landed on my right elbow while rolling onto my side. My calf muscle cramped as I surveyed the dirt and bruising already appearing on my arm. I dusted myself off and determined I was able to keep running. The following miles of trail were smooth and flowing, but my legs were shot. They begged me to stop, but I knew I could push past their screaming. It was during these miles that I felt luckiest – to choose the pain I endure rather than enduring pain I can’t control.

I crossed the finish line and immediately saw Lana and her family, which had come to see her race. We exchanged sweaty hugs and smiles while getting a photo to mark the completion of a long journey together. The Three Sisters Skyline was my fourth ultramarathon and also my fastest one. I finished exactly 20 minutes faster than a race I completed when I was 46 years old.

A few days after the race, I pulled the printed training plan out of my notebook and tossed it in the trash. Lana and I texted about how bittersweet it was to be done with such a structured plan, yet how much we missed the prescribed runs and goal at the end. Then we shared some links to other races we may consider once our tired legs are rested and schedules crave more of a rhythm.