November 2024

My First Ultra Marathon: From Regret to Redemption On a sunny morning at Malibu Creek State Park, my girlfriend and I were lounging under a small tree with coffee and books, looking out at the Santa Monica Mountains. But this wasn’t just another relaxing day. It was race day for the Bulldog Ultra, a notoriously tough 50k trail race with nearly 6,000 feet of elevation gain. And I wasn’t running it. I was watching. Watching other runners take on a challenge I had once signed up for. A race I had trained for. A race I pulled out of. The truth? I let fear win. I had started training for the Bulldog Ultra, ramping from 4 to 10 miles, but life hit hard. I got COVID (for the 3rd time…), had numerous work trips, and time slipping away. With just one week to go, I removed myself from the waitlist. The moment I sent the email, I regretted it. Seeing those runners push through the course made something in me snap. I needed to redeem myself. That night, I signed up for another 50k – a race in the Santa Monica Mountains with SAMO Trail Runs. I had just over two months. No room for excuses. The Training My plan: two midweek runs, a long weekend trail run, and strength training twice a week. I cleaned up my diet, focused on recovery with stretching, foam rolling, hot tub sessions, and ate clean, mostly vegetarian meals from local farmers markets. But the road was rough. A brutal 16-mile run on the hottest day of the year nearly broke me. I finished, but barely. And the setbacks didn’t stop. I got food poisoning. I traveled. I missed my longest training run. But I kept moving. I made the commitment, and I was going to follow through. Race Week Race prep was chaotic – sickness, work travel, and stress. But Friday night before the race was perfect. I cooked a big pasta dinner, prepped my gear, and got in bed by 8pm. Race morning: 4:30am. I was nervous. Excited. Ready. I laced up my Hoka Speedgoats and toed the line with ~75 other runners at Will Rogers State Park. As we set off in the dark, headlamps lit the trail. The climb began immediately. I looked back and saw the glow of L.A. below and dozens of headlamps flickering behind me. The sun rose over the ridgelines. I was flying. At mile 14, I was in 8th place. The Suffering Then it hit. At mile 21, the pain in my knees flared. Each downhill step felt like a knife to the kneecap. My pace slowed. The sun climbed higher. My hydration pack ran dry. By mile 27, I was in survival mode. The last 7 miles were brutal. I shuffled. Stretched. Sweat. I was out of water and filled with pain. But I knew this was the moment I came for. The suffering was the point. At last, I crested the final descent. I pushed through the last mile and crossed the finish line to cheers from my girlfriend, her mom, and a friend. I had done it. Recovery & Reflection The pain set in fast, especially in my knees and joints. But mentally? I felt incredible. I took pride in the struggle, in the fact that I hadn’t quit when things got hard. The next day brought soreness in unexpected places (like my biceps from pumping my arms!) but also a quiet sense of accomplishment. What I Learned “I put another cookie in my cookie jar.” —David Goggins This race taught me that discomfort isn’t a problem. It’s the path. And I’ll be back for more. Gear List: This was my first ultra. But it won’t be my last.