They say every race has a story, but marathon #115 was nearly a short story that ended at Mile 10. I headed into the Oak Mountain 50k with high hopes, but the trails had other
They say every race has a story, but marathon #115 was nearly a short story that ended at Mile 10.
I headed into the Oak Mountain 50k with high hopes, but the trails had other plans. Early on, my knee started acting up, sending those sharp reminders with every technical descent and rocky climb. For a good chunk of the first half, the “DNF” (Did Not Finish) thought was loud. I was ready to call it a day, find a comfortable spot at the aid station, and cheer everyone else on.
But trail running is as much about the head as it is the legs. I decided to push just a little further, and I’m glad I did.
As if the trail gods heard my prayers, the second half of the course leveled out. It became much more “Florida runner friendly”—flatter, smoother, and perfect for finding a rhythm. Once I could open up my stride without the constant jarring on my knee, my spirit shifted. The dark clouds of the first half cleared, and I found myself actually enjoying the miles again.
Crossing that finish line for another ultramaraton finish (115th marathon overall) felt extra special. It was one of my slowest 50k and it certainly wasn’t the easiest, but it was a reminder of why we do this. Beyond the miles, the best part was the community. It was great seeing so many familiar faces and feeling the shared energy of everyone out there tackling the mountain.
Onward to the next one!
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