50k Debrief : BURCS Tails & Trails 50k

I signed up for the BURCS Tails & Trails 50k out in the Berkshires to run on my 42nd birthday back in December 2024. Although I had never run an ultra for distance, and never even run a marathon, I figured why not?! I have plenty of time to train!

Well, fast forward to 6 months later, all the sudden it’s May 2025. My training cycle was unsurprisingly, lackluster. While there are factors like (a lot of) health issues and leg injury that largely contributed to this, some of it is also just who I am. I'm just not great at keeping up a training regimen. I have pathological demand avoidance and zero executive functioning ability, but, I digress! I stubbornly still wanted to try to run this 50k, 100% prepared or not. I had a decent base level of fitness to work with, and know that I am capable of grinding when it comes down to it. 

And so, I gathered up every bit of gear and willpower that I could muster, and got in the car on Friday night (May 16th) with Jungle & Ruby, and headed out to Massachusetts to meet up with my mother and father at my brother's house. My parents have always been an incredible support system, and I am fortunate that this extends to my races as well. They enjoy cheering me on, and have been to more of my races than I can count! This time around it was a nice added benefit that it was my birthday, and that they would be able to visit my brother as well.

Alas, the same way that I am terrible at training, I am also terrible at planning. So, when we all finally got in the same room - the night before the race - we figured out a game plan for the morning. Mind you, we spent an entire week together at the beach in March and could have planned then - but why do early what you can do late!

We chose to stay at my brother’s house because the race from my house was about 2.5hrs, but from his it was only 1:15 - even though his house is 3hrs from my house. We decided it still made sense to go out there to stay the night before so that we had less of a drive at the buttcrack of dawn day-of. We figured out how long exactly it would take to get there, who would ride with who, when everyone would arrive, and what they would bring. Pittsfield State Forest is in the mountains, so we also took some time to find a route that would give me the least amount of car sickness before the race. Jungle having bore witness to the absolute worst time when I did a very mountainous trail run (Sproul 10K) in Pennsylvania and all the roads to get there were winding and I was in horrendously terrible shape by the time we made it to the start line. We did not want a repeat of this, and thankfully, there was a route that was longer mileage-wise, but the same time-wise that mostly stuck to the highway.

Jungle and I decided to head out first with the Doobicon, and my folks & brother would meet us up there a little later in the morning at a more humane hour. I got roughly 4hrs of sleep (because I never ever sleep before races), woke up at 4:30am, and we hit the road at 6:00am sharp to get to the race. Jungle set up our little crew area, I went and grabbed my bib, hit the potties, and tried to psych myself up that I was worthy of being there, and that I was a real runner, and tried to hush every other intrusive thought possible as I walked to the starting line (at the very back). There were only 26 runners who signed up for the 50k, and let me tell you that these people looked like LEGIT TRAIL RUNNERS. I overheard snippets of conversations about all the different ultras they'd all done, and a couple of them were planning to meet up for "the 72hr in a few weeks". A lot of people also seemed to know each other, and this is the risk that you run when you’re jumping into a small, out of town race. Usually I try to yuck it up with strangers in these situations, and while I commented on the 72hr thing, that particular group didn’t really seem interested in being chummy, so I mostly kept to myself afterwards. This all had me feeling even more nervous, and like an imposter and a fraud, but I had to remind myself that I was there to run my own race. Not for anyone else. Just me. 

The first lap (5.3mi loop) went great. Like literally GREAT! My bad leg felt miraculously good, and my back which has been increasingly problematic in past weeks even felt good. On the drive out the night before to my brother’s house, both my back and my shin were pretty angry, so this was a truly welcome surprise. But because I felt great, as runners are stupidly prone to doing, I started off too fast and too confident. I had even jokingly been texting with my best friend Eliza the very same morning about not going out too fast - but I think we all know that these are lies we tell ourselves! I went out at a 13:35 first mile which was insanely fast for me on this kind of technical, rooty, hilly, muddy, rocky trail. There were four people who had somehow gotten behind me even though I started in the back, and I let them push me for longer than I should have. I had asked a few times if they wanted to pass and they were like, “Nope! This is perfect!” I eventually took it upon myself to smarten up and just pop over to let them pass so that I could slow down. I finally steadied it out at a 14:00-15:00 pace. 

When I hit the aid station at 3.50mi, the ladies volunteering were legit rays of sunshine. They were so sweet and supportive! They cheered everyone in with a cowbell and hoots and hollers, and every time they reviewed the spread of goodies, and offered to help with whatever we needed. The station itself was super stocked!! Cola, Ginger Ale, Water, Gatorade, pickles, sweet treats, salty treats...and wait for it...SALT POTATOES!!! Y'all when I tell you that this made my whole day, I swear. I’m building salt potatoes into my fuel kit from now on. The absolute joy. Those salty snappy little bastards were life changing! 

The aid station being on the heavy-end of the trail meant that there was only 1.8mi to the end of the loop, so it feels like you fly through after that, despite there being some good climbs on that back end. I made it through the first loop feeling freaking great. Too great, obviously. It was so hard for me, but I was elated. I absolutely love feeling challenged and pushed and knowing that I am able to answer that call. 

Jungle & Rubes were there as I finished that first loop, and as I ran through the timing chute, Jungle was cheering and taking a video, and the entire volunteer crew sang me in with "Happy Birthday". It was so sweet - and because I am who I am it was also a little embarrassing because I was definitely the last one in and hated having attention on myself - but mostly it was so, so sweet! I did a super quick pitstop at our crew tent that Jungle set up, just grabbed a few slugs of Pepsi, patted Schnoob-McDoobs, and headed right back out. This will be the quickest in & out by far of the race.

The second lap was a biiiiiit more humbling! I still felt pretty good, and kept up roughly with the same pace in the 15:00ish range. The course itself was just stunning. It was so interesting because there were so many different types of flora and vegetation throughout the loop. The trees were constantly changing, and it was really so powerful to just be out there in nature. Feeling connected and happy. I started to recognize my favorite little landmarks. Little plants nestled into the roots of massive old trees; huge green, mossy, rocky outcroppings; spiky spiny naked pines; babbling brooks, and quiet ponds, ravines, boardwalks, bridges, and steep climbs. It was all so beautiful. This all being said, it was next to impossible to look up while you were running. The ground was covered in roots and rocks, and I learned very early on that turning around to look behind me or lifting my eyes

to the sky was a terrible and dangerous idea. I twisted my ankle in the first lap doing just that, and it was a quick lesson in both telling myself that I was okay, but also that I couldn't afford to do that again! If you look up, you might miss the snakes that cross your path (only one sighting this time!) The second lap though, brought more temptation to look behind me because the fastest runners from lap 1 were catching up to me. Within my second lap, two other races started - the 25k, and the 5miler. It was nice to see other people out there on the trail because I had mostly been alone the first lap - but it did come with its challenges, too. By the end of my second lap, my parents and brother had arrived, and they cheered me in with Jungle & Poopy Ruby. It was so nice to hear my father yelling BREEEZER MARIEEZER and laughing. Just such a joy to have them in my corner always. 

Before the third lap, I decided to change my horrifyingly disgusting shirt and try to eat something (other than gel & salt potatoes). The weather had been forecasted to be warm, muggy, rainy, and thuderstormy all day, but by the end of the second lap, it was hot, extra humid, and so incredibly sunny. Not a cloud in the sky. There thankfully was a slight breeze every now and then, but for the most part it was pretty uncomfortable (although pretty). As a result, I was fully and completely drenched in sweat. During the 2nd lap I had also broken out in a gnarly heat rash all up my neck - which honestly, I'm glad I couldn't see because it would've freaked me out. My mother, like the true Race Mom that she is, busted out the hydrocortisone cream, and applied it thoroughly to my neck, and sent me off. Although I took a little longer to get out of the tent to start the third lap, it was mostly because I had to re-bib my fresh shirt which I annoyingly hadn't thought of having to do! I stuffed a few gummies down, had some more pepsi, and then got out of there. 

I started the third lap similarly confident to the second lap. I was still feeling really happy

and grateful for the whole experience. I got to go out on the trail and see all of my favorite landmarks again. I got to pick my feet up and move forward. I was feeling good, and was texting updates to Eliza who was running 15 miles with me from home in solidarity. But, I also started to realize that I would likely not make the time cutoff of 3:30pm to begin my final 6th lap. It didn't deter me from trying, but it was constantly in the back of my head. The third lap also brought A LOT more people passing and lapping me from my own race, and the 25k. Most of the 5-milers were done, since that race was a single lap. The challenge again here with this was listening for people behind you and checking without tripping to see how close they were. The course was a single-track mountain bike trail that we were running on, so you had to jump off into the brush when people were ready to pass you. Not at all a deal breaker, but it does slow-down, the already slow - such as myself. I lost a good amount of time in this race letting people pass which is just something you have to deal with as a back-of-the-packer. You have to dead stop with enough time so that the person behind you doesn’t really have to slow down, jump off trail somewhere safe, wait, and then get going again. It’s all about being courteous and sharing the trail! 

Right around when the aid station was coming up on my third lap, I started getting a pretty bad stitch in my side. I grabbed some Gatorade for my water bladder, and took some ginger ale - and of course a salt potato, and some pickles. I scurried back out onto the trail, and tried to power through the cramp while running, but it was just not going to subside. I did a fair bit more walking on this lap, and tried to remain present. I knew that I was probably not drinking or eating enough for the heat and the effort. But, I honestly was still just so damn happy. I was enjoying myself out there, despite the discomfort. 

I came in after lap 3, and shoveled in as much food as I could. Unfortunately, it wasn't much. A quarter of a PB&J, maybe three chips, and two more sips of pepsi. I knew that this wasn't enough, but the stitch was really bad, and I just couldn't get more down. Fueling has been a longstanding downfall of mine. I have a million dietary and GI issues (and am also vegan) and next to nothing that goes in feels good on a good day, let alone while I’m running. I have found one brand of gels that works for me (boom!) and I can typically palate fig bars (Nature's Bakery) but everything else is pretty rough. I packed a metric-butt-ton of options for the tent, but day-of, absolutely nothing sounded good in the moment. For better or worse, not getting much in, I went out for my fourth lap. 

It was obvious to me at this point, heading into mile 16, that there's no way that I would make the time cut-off. I could have thrown in the towel at the end of the third loop, knowing that there was no chance of me making it. It would have been a DNF with less miles. A DNF is a DNF - it doesn’t matter if you “almost make it” or only run one mile. But, I made peace with knowing that I wasn’t going to make it, and wanted to keep going anyway. I knew that I'd keep going until I was told I had to stop, and that was enough for me. 

The fourth lap was by far the hardest and most brutal. It was mid-day by now, and while my folks were still seeing a storm coming on the radar that was supposed to hit in literally MOMENTS, it never actually did. It remained steadfastly summery outside. Hot. Extremely

humid. Sunny. It was still so beautiful, and as the sun moved through the trees at different angles from morning to afternoon, showcasing new beautiful traits that the forest had to offer, I again, had to appreciate just how lucky I was to be out there doing this hard thing in this perfect place. Things though, went from tough to worse for me physically in the fourth lap. The stitch in my side never went away. No matter what I did to try and mitigate it. It was extremely painful. And then, about a half mile into this lap, I momentarily lost hearing in both ears. It was just so disorientating to not be able to hear. Eventually it settled into a muffled, underwater sensation, and remained this way for the entire rest of the day. It was kind of scary being out there mostly alone without being able to hear, and it continued to be very disorienting. But, I wasn’t going to turn back. That just wasn’t an option for me. Running was next to impossible at this point though with my muffled head and my cramped side. So, I just took it slow - chatted with a few other participants that I came across who were also walking, jogged when I could, and again took in my gorgeous surroundings. Was I bummed to not be able to run? Yes. But I was also just proud of myself for being there, and for pushing on. My mental game felt so strong.

I finished the fourth lap, feeling - and I'm going to be honest here - pretty freaking awful. I jogged to our tent and my mother's first words were "WOW, you are so pale." and I was not surprised to hear it. I had spent the past 5.3mi trying to keep my body from rebelling and shutting down. I felt like I was talking to them all through noise-cancelling headphones and my father commented on how I sounded like a different person. I could hear everything inside my body moving and my breathing, but it was so hard for me to hear them. Super uncomfortable. I ended up sitting down for the first time in 21.2mi and taking a much longer break than I did between the other three laps. This was the moment where I needed to make the choice of going back out or not. I already wasn’t going to make the cut-off, I wasn’t feeling great, and I didn’t know if there was a real purpose to me continuing to force myself to suffer. I did some soul searching and just said to myself, “Your mind still feels strong. You still feel happy. You are enjoying this. Go back out there and see if you can get a marathon distance. You would never forgive yourself if you didn’t push for another lap, knowing that you could get it.” So,I decided that changing my drenched shirt again was a lost cause because a fresh one would just be gross again in 5 seconds, and that right there told me that I was absolutely going back out. Jungle sat next to me and hand-fed me chips. Someone fed me an oreo. Mom gave me another square of PB&J. Jesse helped get an electrolyte drink mixed and into my vest. And like the perfect angel she is, Rubius McRodious tried to eat all of my snacks. And because she’s the best girl, I gave her some.

Before going back out for this what would be final lap, I also finally tried to go to the bathroom for the first time since 7:45am, and I didn't really have to go, which is never a good sign as far as dehydration goes. I did however drink an entire bottle of water on this pitstop, and while I was sitting and being taken care of by my loving family, I started to feel human again - although the stitch and the hearing issues, remained. I really was feeling better though, and I casually said, "The trail really is stunning if anyone wants to come out on the next lap with me!" Thinking that they would all look at me like I was a lunatic, or that there was an off chance that maaaaybe my brother would want to go. But lo' and behold - my father actually said he was thinking about it! I knew at that point that the 5th lap would be my last because of timing. From the race standpoint, this lap and the fourth lap were extraneous. The people directing the race probably thought I was crazy going back out for no real reason! So papa and I decided that he would come out there with me and we would walk it as slowly as felt right for both of us, and we would just enjoy the day and the scenery and the time together. Mom, Jesse, Jungle, and Scoobopolopilis stayed back at the tent and did all the break-down and clean-up, which was no small feat for all the junk that we brought, and it was super helpful to know that it would all be taken care of when we got back in at the end of the loop.

I can't tell you how special it was to have my papa out there on that trail with me, folks.

Especially at such a critical juncture of the day, when I knew the race was over for me, and I was tired and emotional. We chatted and laughed and hefted our way through the forest. It was not easy for me, so I know that it couldn't have been easy for him, either. At 71 years old though, my father is more youthful and spry than many people my own age! He has kept fit and active his entire life working in the woods and the yard and in the garage and around the house, always opting to do it himself or with friends rather than hiring someone else. He powered through that trail and reminisced about his hikes from the past and how it is such a privilege to still be able to do this now, with his daughter (on her birthday!). He got to meet the sweet (and sassy) volunteers, he got to see all of the landmarks that I had fallen in love with on the previous four loops, and he got to see what I do. The special skill and heart that it takes to trail run, and that really specific drive and motivation it takes to be out there doing super hard things. He got to see what sets me apart as a trail runner. In my true wildish wolf woman form.

About a half a mile from the end of the loop, we were walking and talking, and I heard something that sounded a whole heck of a lot bigger than a squirrel move off to my left in the woods. I looked and Y'ALL. IT WAS A HUGE BLACK BEAR!!! I stopped dead in my tracks and tried to shush my father mid-sentence and in a very tense whisper was like, "A frigging big @ss black bear just ran off into the bushes over there!”.  When I tell you that my adrenaline spiked and I could have sprinted the entire rest of the way out of there! Holy moly. Although we were all startled - us AND the bear apparently - it was also so soooo cool to see a real black bear out in the wild! I'd never seen one out on the trails before, ever! What an absolutely wild, and I do mean wild in every sense of the word - experience! We were hyper vigilant after that though and hiked out the rest of the way with our eyes peeled and pointed in every direction like chameleons. The bear when he took off went deeper left, but hilariously, the trail ended up also going that way and we were practically right in its path. Wherever he went though, we didn't see him again, and that was just fine by me. 

We exited that last lap high as kites after our encounter. I had finished just over marathon distance at 26.54mi. It took me an outrageous 8:23:24, but I did it. I had, up to that point, never gone marathon distance before. This was a huge moment for me. I never gave up, and I just kept moving forward. I was proud of what I accomplished. I understood that I didn't make the cut-off to go out for my last lap. I was truly okay with everything that had transpired.

And then, as people were cheering me in through the chute for the final time, one guy at the swag table asked if I had finished, and I said "No unfortunately, I ran out of time, I only made 5 loops", and the other guy at the table simultaneously had been picking up a medal to hand me, heard that I didn't finish, and put it back down in the pile of medals.

And then, I was heartbroken. It really hit that I DNFd. I did not finish. After almost eight and a half hours, 1,411ft of elevation gain, and just 4.5286mi shy of a true 50k, I had failed. I did not earn that medal.

My mother came over and gave me a big hug. Jungle and Jesse were off packing things up. And I just...dejectedly tried to keep my head high. I smiled a lop-sided smile as the volunteers told me I did a great job. I tried not to cry.

I was so exhausted and emotional. I was so proud for what I found myself to be capable of, but also so, so hurt that I didn't achieve what I had set out to do. It all felt so anticlimactic, and yet also super surreal.

We all scurried around pretty quickly after that to pack up because it had finally started to rain. Just 9 hours after it was supposed to! Ha! My folks & Jesse left for his house, and we were all going to meet back there to have some cupcakes and dinner to celebrate - the race, and my birthday. It was at this point when Jungle found me standing kind of lost in the middle of the parking lot, and brought me into a tight hug, and I just sobbed. So many big, complicated, confusing, conflicting feelings.

We debriefed on the hour & change drive back to Jesse's, and Jungle said, "What would you say to a friend in this position?", and I told him through tears that that didn't count! That I didn't want to tell him what I'd say to a friend.

But of course he was right. I would of course tell any friend in this position that they were freaking amazing. That only 26 people even attempted what they did today. That only 22 of those people even finished, and the people who finished last only made the cut-off by literally 2 minutes, and that there were people out there who elected the option to start the race earlier in hopes that they would even be able to make the cut-off. That running a trail marathon is BAD @SS!!! That running in May in our region when we've trained throughout the cold, endless winter, and then having to suddenly jump into an obnoxiously summery, sunny, 80° day at 94% humidity is really tough! That running a gnarly technical trail for 26.54mi with 1,411ft of elevation gain is really incredible. That being on their feet, moving forward, for 8:23:24 is a feat unto itself! WHO DOES THAT?! THAT'S LEGENDARY. That's an accomplishment! That's something to celebrate! I would say all of these things and mean every single one of them. Why wouldn’t I tell myself these things as well? Why would I tell myself that I failed?

So, in the end, while I did not in fact run a 50k, I did try. I never gave up. I ran a beautiful, challenging, inspiring, hot, imperfectly perfect

trail marathon. Surrounded by my loved ones, a bunch of absolutely lovely volunteers, and other hardcore, bad@ss trail runners. I had a friend say you didn’t get a medal, but just remember that you finished the 25k and the 5miler that were going on at the same time without even trying and then some. I thought that was a really good perspective. 

I'm still emotional. But I am also proud, and grateful, and content. What a privilege it is to run.

Thank you to my Miles & Macros teammates and to everyone who has cheered me on and supported me throughout this journey. Through the training, through the injury, and through the day to day. Huge love and thanks to my parents, brother, and Jungle for race day support, to Scooby-Doobers for her endless snarfeling love, and to Eliza. Who not only ran 15 miles for me day of, but who also gets me through life, every single day.

This was my first attempt at a 50k, but it certainly won’t be my last.