There were 50 kilometers in the Stump Jump trail ultramarathon that took place on Signal Mountain outside Chattanooga, TN.

There was intimidation. We’re talking quadriceps cut enough to pierce my lungs. Bodies unlike my own… of people who could really claim to be ultramarathoners.

There was a morning start line, ambushed by nerves and the idea that I wouldn’t be done running until well after lunch time.

There were yellow jackets. Visciously reminding me I was on their terrain. Approximately 5 times in as many minutes.  

There was misdirection. Running an extra mile on the wrong path may not seem like much – except when it tops an already 31 mile day.

There were roots. Laughing as my toes (quickly followed by knee, butt, wrist, face) made contact.

But oh… oh… there was magnificence. In its finest, truest form.

There was perfect running weather. Low 50s to start, barely climbing to 68 by 3pm. There was the bluest of blue skies one could ever imagine. There was a gentle breeze that just kinda floated along in a unhurried, yet determined manner. There was the Tennessee River Valley and its beautiful views. Ridgeline running is a gift from God – to your left is hewn mountainside rock, to your right, sheer drops that mask as gentle, lush green, falling down to sparkling river.

There was me – actually pacing myself for once. Holding back rabbit feet over a gnarly first 6-8 miles of ascents and descents that would have thrashed the ignorant pair of legs.

There were the nicest, most genuine volunteers/aid station workers I’ve ever experienced in any event I’ve ever participated in. I’m talking every high school CC meet, every road or multisport race over 16 years, every collegiate rowing event, even every race I worked while with the race management company. The aid stations were phenomenal. Every single person was so nice, so giving, so generous, so fun and EXCITED to be there, so focused on getting all of us across the finish line, from the beginning on. I will make it a point to run other Rock/Creek races. I can’t say enough good things about them.

There was the coolest community of athletes I’ve ever been associated with. There must be something about people who “ultra” – they’re competitive and tough and freakin tenacious as hell, yet chill, down to earth, friendly, and genuinely interesting folks. I would have liked to sit around a keg and a bonfire with all 300 of the participants and just listen to them tell stories.

There was a near perfect race day, that ended with me and the best running partner someone could ask for crossing the finish line as ultramarathoners. Holy crap – we did it. Which means of course, that we’ll have to do it again.

Our first 50k played out like a storybook. There were definitely ups and downs and it was not perfect but, all things considered, pretty damn awesome. I actually ended the race feeling fresh – I only felt toasted for approximately 10 minutes somewhere between mile 28-30. We didn’t run very fast, finished the course in 7:34 and about 2/3 back in a pack of runners whose times range from 4.5 – 8.5 hrs. The terrain was TOUGH (hence my slooow time. everyone walks. you HAVE to walk certain parts) but really fulfilling and enjoyable. Back when we went the wrong way on the race course (putting our mindless faith in those in front of us), it not only caused us to lose about 15 minutes of time getting back on course, but we hit a bottleneck because of it. On singletrack, that meant we could barely run over a really easy stretch of course… so we lost probably another 15 minutes of time as we were forced to walk on a trail brimming with legs. So without using additional energy we would have easily cut our time by about 30 minutes just avoiding mishaps. I feel like that’s impressive based on my expectations for the race. Now that I know what to expect and can plan smarter, I can’t wait to see what kind of times I can deliver on my next one.

That’s right… next one. I think I’ve found my calling – a true love. Long distance trail running is more beautiful and easier on my body (save my klutziness around rocks/roots and the like) than road marathons. The Stump Jump 50k was my favorite event I have ever done – from the course, to organization and execution, to aid stations and support, to swag and the vendor presence (Vasque is not only my favorite trail shoe, but their people are killer). Hood to Coast – the 197 mile relay from Mt Hood to the coast of Oregon – is the only event that even comes close to topping this weekend’s experience.

Oh yes, there will be more. I can’t believe it. But I can’t wait.