Laura Pfeifer signed up for a 50K to celebrate her 50th birthday. Mother Nature had other plans. 

When I turned 50, I wanted to celebrate with something significant, so I signed up for the 50K at The Hobbs War Eagle Trail Running festival at Hobbs State Park in Rogers, Arkansas and the 50K training program in the Train Like a Mother Club. 

The race was slated for June 1. I was well into my taper, when, over Memorial Day weekend, our area got hit by tornados that devastated many of the local trails, including Hobbs State Park. It will take months to get the park back open, so the race was canceled. I was disappointed, but we were so fortunate;  our area suffered mostly downed trees, which did plenty of damage to fences and houses and roads. It could have been so much worse.

I joined the rest of my community and started to clean up the area. But I was still disappointed. It felt like the post-marathon blues—that lost feeling when you’re not sure what to do with time—but without the sore quads and sense of accomplishment to dull the ache. I tried to accept that I would pick another race, start the training over later in the year or wait for next year’s race and try again. 

Then my schedule opened up on a Friday. My husband took over shuttling the kids, the thunderstorms left the forecast, and the trails in my immediate area were mostly clear. 

I decided I would run this 50K on my own.

Ready to hit the trails

I mapped a giant loop course on my local trails that only had me repeating one four-mile stretch. I set up three aid stations (one I hit twice) with cooler bags stocked with thermoses of ice, water, bananas, PB&Js, Liquid IV, GU, and cooling towels. I carried water, salt tabs, and lots of GU. 

A few notes about my stash, just in case you’re considering doing this as well:

  1. The little thermoses of ice were my best idea. At each water stop, I refilled my handheld with mostly ice and filled it in with water, and the ice usually lasted for a couple miles. I love ice water.
  2. I put liquid IV in mini disposable water bottles with flip top lids (from other disposable water bottles). I grabbed one at each aid station, drank it over the next mile or so, put the cap in my pocket so I could reuse it, and tossed the bottle at the next opportunity. (There were a bunch of small trash bins every couple miles along the trail.) I run with a Nathan handheld (no vest) so I wanted to minimize the time that I was two-fisting bottles.

I left my cooler bags with my name and the date on them on benches near the trailhead. There are a lot of trail angels that stock coolers on the trail for people who might need a drink or bite, but I didn’t want to rely on them, just in case. 

Then, about 6:30, I started to run. The temp was a balmy 61, the humidity, a stifling 92%. The first 15 miles went great. I took a lot of spider webs to my face, but the trails were in great shape. I saw lots of deer and tiny turtles and funky giant mushrooms. And no snakes! I took my time at the aid stations and stopped occasionally to chat briefly with bikers and hikers. 

One of the bikers asked “Oh, you’re doing an ultra. Any Fireball in your coolers?” Sadly, there was not. I met some of the hikers previously on the trails during my training runs, so I told them that today was the day and they cheered me on. (I love having a local trail community.)

Around three hours in, it was getting warm; 81 degrees, 72% humidity. I kept going, but hit a few stretches of trail in full sun for maybe a quarter mile. Nothing too dramatic, but enough to really feel the heat, and I knew it was going to keep getting hotter. I didn’t question whether I would be able to finish—stubbornness is my defining fitness characteristic—but I questioned whether it would be a good idea for me to finish. And I had to accept that I’d have to take it easier if I didn’t want to wreck myself. So for miles 20-25, I settled into some run/walk intervals. 

By mile 25, I was in the four-mile repeat of the trail I had done earlier. It was 89 degrees, I was hot, and felt unsure of my feet when I was running. That said, walking still felt great. (It was so hot and I was so sweaty, my toenail polish melted to my socks and I couldn’t get them off afterward. I didn’t even consider that this was a possibility.) This area is always very rocky and had the most storm damage, with downed trees and washed out sections, so I did a lot of walking and stopping to report the damage on Trail Forks. With about 1 mile to go to my mile 29 aid station, I got very low on water and just hiked it in to my personal aid station.

As I refilled my water and ice and had another PB&J, I knew I could finish. I knew I could run some more. And I found a little extra mental boost. Don’t get me wrong: I was ready to be done, but I was also determined to celebrate the last three miles. (Yes, I planned a route slightly longer than 32 miles because I didn’t want to come up short on the 50K. I’m that runner.)

I switched to my playlist which alternates fast and slow songs and told myself I could walk the slow songs but I should try to run the fast ones, and I felt pretty good and did more running than I expected. 

Those numbers don’t lie

I did not expect that Enter Sandman by Metallica would be just what I needed to cross the finish line. Nor did I expect to tear up when Forever Young by Alphaville came on as I was cooling down. I walked slowly in circles, trying to feel all my emotions: pride, accomplishment, exhaustion, relief. Not gonna lie: I also had a little sadness that I didn’t get to experience the full hoopla of a 50k with other runners, and that we didn’t know when or even if the state park that was supposed to host the 50K would recover. (Spoiler alert: it will.)

I wallowed a bit until a biker came by and asked if I knew the trails and could give him directions to another trail. He has never received such detailed directions for a half-mile stretch of trail. That interaction was enough to snap me back to the present and appreciate what is, not what almost was. 

I did a 50K, not as I had long planned, but I did it nonetheless. And when I finally do an official one, I’ll have experience to remember that I can do hard things.