Searching for Bigfoot: My First 50K

A humid, smoky haze hung over Lake Natoma. It lingered throughout the day as I ran my first 50K. 

That’s right! I’m quite jazzed to report that I completed my first ultramarathon distance. *Initiate happy dance*

The delirious deed was done last Saturday. I laced up my running shoes and ran the 31.1-mile distance on the trails surrounding Lake Natoma, a looping network featuring paved bike paths, dirt tracks, and plenty of pesky rocks. 

Before last weekend, I never ran anything longer than a half marathon. Sure, there were days when I went out with the ambition to blast past that distance, but I always stopped short, seemingly never able to rile up the gumption to reach beyond the 13.1-mile marker.  

The Bigfoot Elusive Race changed that.  

Sometimes I need coals burning under my feet to get moving. A commitment, even something like a virtual race, is a great motivator for me. 

"Oh, you signed up for a 50K, Greg? Well, alright, I guess you better get to it, hey buddy?"

It’s a tad silly my mind works this way, but hey, I groove with what I got.

Equipped with a 2-liter hydration pack, a handful of Clif Bars, and cryptozoological curiosity, I parked my car on Gold Lake Drive in Folsom and started running around 9:30 am, winding my way down the path leading to the lakeside trail. 

I started with what I thought was a reasonable pace, around 10 to 11 minutes per mile. The pace seemed sustainable, but woof, was I wrong. 

The first 15 miles were deceptively easy. As I eclipsed the length of my longest run, I thought, “Damn, cool cat, you’re moving breezy.” And that was true. I felt really good. Great, even. My breath was measured and my legs felt strong, their touch on the terrain sure and smooth.  

As I rounded the bottom half of the lake, I crossed a bridge leading to the opposite side of it, accompanied for that stretch by a soundtrack of rumbling traffic. The trail eventually veered back towards the lake, guiding me through golden foothills topped with trees. Soon, the trail started to split, presenting a handful of paths for exploration. New terrain. 

  

One of the things I love about distance running is that it’s essentially free travel. For no-cost, save my energy, I can head out the front door and discover an entirely new place. The action appeals to my nomadic nature, something I believe exists in all of us. 

My musings were short-lived due to the pain train I didn’t see barreling towards me. A silent, creeping locomotive, it had previously announced itself with faint echoes, which barely pierced my awareness. Soon, it was upon me, its whistle blaring in my face.   

Okay, okay, I'm getting hyperbolic here, but I’m not fooling when I say that miles 16 through 26 were damn brutal. My springy gait devolved into a strained shuffle; my thighs were badly chaffed; and my skin was gritty with salt. Aches encompassed my entire lower body, clambering up from my feet to my shins and calves, and from there to my thighs and hips.   

It was right around this time that a thought emerged from my murky consciousness. “Hey, man…uh…why are you doing this to yourself?” 

It was a fair question. Why run a 50K? 

As I pondered the question, I realized the answer was a circuitous one, looping back to the feeling that incited the question in the first place. 

Pain. That was the answer. Here, pain existed as an obstacle, a boulder blocking my path to 31.1 miles and the proverbial finish line. But boulders are scalable. You can figure out tricks and patterns to ascend them. Obstacles, no matter how they manifest, are no different. They're scalable. Pushing through pain is no different. 

So I decided to groove on, keeping in mind the thought that struggle is itself a reward.

And, you know what? Things slightly shifted around mile 27. Yes, my legs still felt like jelly and threatened secession from my body, but I definitely felt a spurt of energy. Probably because I was psyched by the prospect of being done with the deed  

And soon, I was done. After 6:00:42 (see elapsed time in Garmin screenshot below), I finished running my first 50K. I relished the moment, collapsing on a bench in exhaustion and celebrating with generous gulps of water. 

I was sore but satisfied with the day’s work and my effort.

A couple of days of full-body aches lay ahead of me, but as I drove back to my apartment in Sacramento, I thought to myself, "What's next?"

Link to Garmin tracking: https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/5527494516

P.S. I didn’t find bigfoot, but if you see a short, hairy figure lumbering through the trees, don’t fear. It’s not a baby bigfoot, it’s just me on a recovery run.