I know that some people enjoy detailed race recaps, with pace breakdowns and play-by-play of terrain changes. My brain doesn’t quite work like that but I’d like to offer a recap as technical as I can make it.
The course
I want to preemptively clarify that I did not set out to run a 50k. I fell in love with the idea of running Trail Kuršių Nerija, no matter the distance. There were a few months between learning about this race and registration, and sometime along the way I made the decision to run my first ultramarathon.
As the name suggests, this was a trail race taking place on the Curonian Spit in Lithuania. This meant the terrain would consist of beach sand, woodland, plenty of hills and dunes, big open spaces as well as technical trails. Due to the shape of the land, this is basically a very long out-and-back run, with some variation.
The official breakdown lists 51k with 600m of elevation. The GPS file was closer to 52k, and according to my watch, I only ascended about 440m.
This course had four aid station stops (two stations you visit twice) at 14k, 25k, 34k, and 45k. Then, all you had to do is get to the finish line!
The weather
I couldn’t have asked for better weather. Cool, dry, sunny. Warm enough for shorts and a single layer when running under the sun, and with a lightweight jacket and gloves I could conquer the shade of the woods.
I can imagine that my impression may have been very different if it was too hot or wet. The weather gods were on my side, it seems.
The gear
For the most part, I nailed this part. I had just the right amount of clothing that I could easily mix and match depending on circumstances. Everything I wore, down to my socks and underwear, never created any issues for me.
I ran in my Hoka Mafate Speed 4, which is probably my favourite shoe. I usually run in the countryside, so my trail shoes had some miles in them, yet still perfectly supportive for the race. At the end of the day, I had no bruising or blisters, which is a huge win at that distance.
The main mistake I made was with my running vest, and it wasn’t even the vest itself. Having had some bad experiences with empty food stations, I had my vest loaded to the brim. I carried a full bladder of water, two flasks with electrolytes, food enough for three people, and even a power bank.
Naturally, the pack was very heavy, and soon enough it was painful on my shoulders. Whenever I was not wearing my gloves, I shoved them into my top as makeshift shoulder pads. On the bright side, this prompted me to hydrate regularly to try and lighten the load.
The fuel
I don’t do gels, there’s something about the texture that turns me off entirely. I’m also wary of the effect they can have on your stomach, which is why I spent my entire training cycle figuring out what snacks work best for me.
I’m so used to mostly-empty tables, or raisins being the only vegan option, I always carry my food on race day. I had a ton of options in my pack, from dried fruit and jelly beans, to flapjacks and protein cookies. Turns out, I did not need to bring quite so much.
The aid stations at this race were unmatched. Not only were they manned and replenished, the amount of options were incredible. Sweet and savoury, crunchy and soft, dry and wet (pickles, anyone?). Lots of drinks, too, and actual honest-to-god tables wher eyou could sit down.
Thanks to the well-stocked aid stations, I had lots of food leftover. No regrets though! Aside from my morning porridge, here’s what I had in six hours:
- 2L water
- 1L isotopic drinks
- 1 can RedBull
- 2 fruit bars
- 1 mini flapjack (too dry)
- 1 protein cookie
- Lots of dark chocolate
- Pickles and olives
- Dried apricots and raisins
It’s funny how the concept of combining foods goes haywire during a race, huh? I was shoving down olives together with chocolate and chasing it down with electrolytes. I didn’t have time to consider the consequences.
The race
My intention with this race was to finish strong. I knew that if I went out too fast, I would crash too soon. I also was keenly aware that the terrain is challenging and constantly changing, so there was no point in leaving it all out there racing up the hill.
Easy now, strong later. I kept repeating these words like a mantra. I kept looking at my watch to make sure I wasn’t going too fast. I fuelled and hydrated like a champ.
I was cruising beautifully for about 35 kilometres. I’m not sure if it was the change of wind direction, steeper terrain, or fatigue – possibly, all of it. I wasn’t in pain at any point but I was struggling. I kept stopping to walk, and gestured to my companion to keep going as to not hold him back.
With another change of terrain, I was running once again, albeit with great difficulty. I knew that the next aid station was coming at 45k, and it seemed impossibly far. I was also keenly aware of the fact I missed a turn sometime early on, which meant I racked up an extra kilometre coming back. What’s a measly thousand metres when you’re running an ultramarathon, you might think? Turns out, when you still have miles and miles ahead, you have some interesting regrets.
Somehow, I managed to catch up with my friend from earlier. I could tell he was struggling, too, yet this man became my mother hen and cheerleader. He kept reminding me to stay on a trodden path to ease the impact. He helped me put on my jacket right over my running vest when I had a cold spell. He fist-bumped me when I offcially crossed my first marathon mark, although at the time I was barely in a mood to celebrate.
Those ten kilometres before the last aid station were a grind like I’ve never experienced before. I wanted to cry, I hydrated instead. I wanted to stop, I walked on instead. I forced a smile onto my face every time someone passed. I was determined to finish, unbroken.
I am not sure what changed at that last aid station, but for the last stretch, I was a woman on a mission. My focus returned and I just ran. I couldn’t run fast but I was running again, counting down every kilometre.
I crossed the finish line with a time of 6h10, and barely held back tears as they gave me my medal. My mum was waiting for me at the finish and gave me the biggest hug. She cried too.
Here’s a breakdown of my pace and heart rate. You can spot the struggle from a mile!
The friends I made along the way
I consider myself a bit of a recluse. I live remotely. I work remotely. I enjoy my own company and happily parttake in hobbies I can do alone.
Naturally, I set out to run alone. The loveliest surprise from this race has been the interactions with other runners. Swapping snacks, seeing barely-familliar faces from past running events, cheering each other on… The sense of community was palpable!
Sometime in the second half of the run (before the true struggle caught up with me) a man struck up a conversation with me – not my first one of the day. Little did I know that this person would see me through to the finish line.
All of these interactions – conversations, nods, high-fives – made me realise that I’m not as wary of people as I thought. Although I usually run by myself, all of these people know me on some level, I am part of the tribe.
The aftermath
I almost feel bad about it, and some of you might hate me for it, but I did not hurt at all (safe for my shoulders). I had no blisters, no swelling, no lost toenails.
The very next day, I took a walk with my friends and drove home with no issues. I was incredibly tired, but my body held up so well!
This is likely a testament to all of the strength work, cross-training and yoga I have done this year, and proper fuelling all the way through the training cycle. And hey, maybe there’s a bit of luck involved, too.
A couple of hours post-race, I experienced some digestive issues and I took it in stride. I carried on with hydration, made sure to replenish my energy stores, and basically just waited it out.
Would I change anything?
This day wasn’t perfect, and I’m not going to pretend like I wouldn’t change a few things looking back. Some of them I get to recompense next year, some I’ll have to live with.
- I wish I carried less. Running 50+ kilometres isn’t easy as it is. Water is heavy, the food adds up. I believe that shedding a few kilos off my shoulders would make a difference.
- I wish I celebrated my first marathon. At the time, I was so wrapped up in my own struggle, I shrugged it off, but hitting a marathon distance for the first time is a huge deal!
- I wish I paid better attention. I missed a turn, and I will never know if that extra distance was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Ultimately, I hope to come back having learned from this experience. I hope I can one day be as instrumental to someone’s journey as the people I ran with on the day. I hope I get to smile brighter, run lighter, year after year after year.