I finally got my first ultramarathon win at the second annual MoMoFo 100K in Martinsville, Indiana. That’s a sentence I never really dreamed I’d write, but it happened. I’m not an elite runner, and winning outright is very seldom within my capabilities or on my list of priorities.
The 100k distance started at 7 p.m., affording racers the opportunity to run through the night to complete the distance. The course consists of three loops of 20.75 miles, and each loop includes one unmanned water drop as well as four fully stocked and staffed aid stations. While it’s a tough course under normal conditions, this year was muddier and slicker than usual.
Rain was forecasted for the night, and leading up to the race, it drizzled an hour before the start. I ran at the front of the pack with no intention of leading but also planned to keep first place in sight as long as I was comfortable. It was humid enough that I was ready to top off my flasks at the first water drop, just 3 miles into the race, because after the water stop, we had a long section of gravel road. I was trailing first place by 30-60 seconds, and the visibility allowed me to hold that gap. Leaving the gravel road and turning onto single track, there is essentially “two downs and one up” before the first fully stocked aid station. I closed the gap to just a few seconds on the first descent, then let it increase on the climb. On the second descent, I was closing again. We came into the first aid station together and I left first. Facing a significant climb, I anticipated being caught or passed, but as I wound up the switchbacks, it became clear I was going to be in the lead for a while.
Imposter syndrome is quite a phenomenon and became a familiar friend over the next 13 hours. I tried to keep my mindset on “getting to the next aid station” and mostly succeeded, but I often thought: “How much longer until I blow this lead?” The night was mostly unremarkable, aside from the mental battle to keep pushing.
As I set out on the third and final loop, the “aid station to aid station” mentality continued, and by the time I passed my final stop, the sun had risen and daylight graced the course.
In the final 5 miles of the race, I was still in the fog of disbelief that I was leading and terrified I would relinquish the lead so close to the end. At the 60-mile mark, with 2 miles to go, I looked over my shoulder down a long straightaway. I’m sure I turned pale. Behind me was the possibility of two things, both scary in their own right: either two racers were closing in on me and closing fast, or I was hallucinating the images of two ghosts coming to get me. In any case, it was go-time. I refused to look back a second time and funneled every ounce of fear into my legs. It was a fretful several minutes, but closing in on the last half mile, I knew I was safe with the lead. I cruised through the finish chute and claimed the first finisher hug from Benny the RD.
My third loop clocked in at 4:56 for a race total of 14:20:46, with second and third place just 6 minutes behind. I don’t have any recollection of making a deal with the devil during this race, but I can’t rule out that I sold my soul along the way, because the recovery felt like it took forever. There are zero regrets, however, and I would even welcome my friend, imposter syndrome, along for another run.