A tale of two ultramarathons: How I became an ultrarunner

This past weekend, I finished my second 50K at the Run For Kids Challenge, which is part of David and Marye Jo Tosch’s Southeastern Trail Series. In February, I ran my first 50K at Mount Cheaha, which is put on by Todd Henderson, who also does the Pinhoti 100.

I left this weekend feeling so inspired by this ultramarathon journey I’ve started. I’ve learned so much about my mind, met so many great people and really found a connection with nature and with myself that I’ve never had before.

I wanted to share part of my ultra experiences. I’ll start with Mount Cheaha.

First things first, wiithout yoga and meditation I’ve been getting into, there’s no way I could have finished Mount Cheaha 50K. I’ll go through it mile by mile.



Mile 0 at Mount Cheaha 50K

I woke up at 4:07 a.m., 8 minutes before my 4:15 a.m. alarm was set to go off. I get up and start getting ready. My stomach is already in a knot. I was so so nervous about the race. I had a small glass of apple juice and a tried to eat a package of pop tarts. I couldn’t even finish one pop tart.

I saw many friends from BUTS (Birmingham Ultra Trail Society) and the Pinhoti Trail Runners before the race and we all laughed and enjoyed talking before the race. My stomach is still in a knot, but I hoped it would calm down once we got out on the trail.

Guess what? It didn’t. I started feeling odd around mile 2. I stopped to use the bathroom, but my stomach just kept rolling.

By mile 6 stomach is in knots. It feels hard to breathe it’s cramping so hard. I notice that my diaphragm is getting tighter and tighter. I slow down and eventually stop to go to the bathroom again.

I was so confused because I thought I had all my distance nutrition issues figured out. Just a few weeks earlier I had run 21 miles out here on the Pinhoti and had no issues. I laughed the whole run, enjoying making friends and had no issues getting food down. I was getting frustrated, but worse, I knew I was losing time.

Around mile 7, my stomach cramps turn to panic and diaphragm cramps as I trudge down the dirt road to the second aid station. At the aid station, I know I need to do something to handle this or else I’d be toast in about 3 miles.

I bummed some tums off an aid station worker and downed two cups of ginger ale. (I don’t remember your name, but I know it was Steven and Jennine Moses’ aid station. Thank you Moses’ for having ginger ale). I left with a handful of popables and made my way up the long, seemingly never-ending hill.

By mile 10, worry has turned into tears streaming down my face. I’m literally crying while running up a hill. My diaphragm still hurts. I’m beginning to legitimately panic at this point. I can’t calm down and find a rhythm. Running for me has always been about finding a rhythm, a sort of meditative focus.

I realized at this point that I felt like I was having a panic attack--which I've had before. I felt that same grip that felt like a massive hand was squeezing my lungs as hard as it could. I was dealing with anxiety, not a major nutrition fluke.

Once I realized this I knew how to handle it. I knew I had to calm down. If I didn’t calm down, I was going to curl into a ball and quit. Quitting wasn’t an option and feeling like you want to quit 10 miles into a 50K is not a good place to be. I had 21 miles to go. It was calm down or suffer the entire race.

So I started focusing on deep breaths in and out. I stopped talking or thinking. Basically I started meditating.

I had started meditating and doing yoga a few months before. I knew the flexibility and balance I was gaining was good for my running but I didn’t think the mental aspect was going to help me run an ultra, but it did.

I chose a mantra: “breathe in strength, breathe out serenity.” After about two miles of that, I was able to calm down. My stomach stopped hurting. The nausea went away.

The dreaded rocks. Mile 12 all the way to Adam’s Gap is this awful, technical rock section that’s pretty unrunnable unless you’re Kilian Jornet. I basically cursed my way through the rocks, but I also sort of welcomed the change of pace. They made me slow down, which was probably good for me at that point.

I reached Adam's Gap feeling much better than before.

Miles 15 to 25 were awesome. This was a very beautiful and runnable part of the course. The grey fog was replaced by sunshine and the chatter of the stream. I ran this part faster than before. I felt good. Every time I felt that grip in my stomach, I went back to my mantra “breathe in strength, breathe out serenity.”

I welcomed the cold water of the creek crossings. It felt so good on my legs, which were now growing sore and tired. I felt great until around mile 28, right before Blue Hell.

Mind you, I’m now in totally uncharted territory for me, distance-wise. The mind games of the race soon creeped into in my head again. I was tired, sore and absolutely dreading the Blue Hell climb.

I was so happy to see my parents at mile 28. My mom kept saying “you're an ultra runner, Anna! You did it!” to which I replied, “well, I still have to finish.” I was dreading the climb.

But I made it up the climb. It was the road and the bike trail that would nearly break me.

The dreaded climb was done but the switchbacks on the bike trail were what made me feel crazy. I thought the wind was the sound of passing cars. I thought the big boulders were cars. I was straining to hear the sound of the finish line, but all I heard was the howling wind. All I could see was the fog shrouding the trail ahead.

I've never been so happy to see my dad waiting on me. He told me the finish was just 200 yards away. Boy was I relieved. I put my face in my hands and cried when I crossed the finish line. My friends, Mary, Jessa and Olivia were there waiting and cheered for me. My friend Bob brought me water. Pure bliss. I've never felt more alive.

It took me 8 hours and 31 minutes to do it, which was slower than I hoped. But darnit I finished that hard, hard race.

Run for Kids was a completely different experience. For starters, run for kids is a 10K loop around Double Oak Lake at Oak Mountain State Park. For the 50K, you ran five loops. Run for Kids has about 1,350 feet of elevation gain for the whole race. Mount Cheaha had more than 6,800 feet of gain. Big difference.

Run for Kids was at Oak Mountain--my stomping grounds. I’ve run hundreds of miles out there and been around that lake dozens of time. It was home field for me. 

Plus, I knew tons of people who would be there, so it kinda felt like a big BUTS party (which it turned into as the night went on).

I was a bit worried about the loops, as I hate loops. They’re boring to me. But, this loop was 10K, so maybe it wouldn’t get too boring? (Spoiler: by loop 4 I was over it).

I did my usual nutrition stuff. A lot of tailwind, baby food, Honey Stinger waffles and chews, PB&J.

I ran my first loop in 1:06. Whoops. That was too fast. By loop 2, 2 hours and 20ish minutes had passed. I was flying. And nauseated.

My friend Paige was at the aid station and talked some sense into me and told me I had to eat something even though I felt sick. I grabbed some pickles, a PB&J, got more tailwind and resolved to walk for a bit. If my stomach didn’t calm down, I would be toast.

I got nervous once again because all I could think about was my knotted diaphragm at Mount Cheaha. I decided that was not going to happen and turned on some tunes to keep my head from spiraling into worry.

I listed to the album “Perception” by NF. NF’s music is gritty. It’s usually my go-to running jams because it brings something out of me. A determination and strength. The first song on that album is a sort of duel between NF and fear. He’s talking to fear about he’s going to kick fear out of the house and bury it in the backyard.

I thought back to Mount Cheaha and how I let fear grip it’s fist around my diaphragm and hold on for miles and miles. I decided fear wasn’t doing that today. And just like NF, I would bury fear in the backyard of my mind and let it die there. Hey fear: you’ve been evicted.

And just like that, I turned my fear into a motivator instead of a limiter.

I walked a bit and chatted some with a few people on the trail. I knew I had to take it slow on the hills on this loop. I wasn’t going to worry about keeping up with the runner ahead of me. I was doing me. I met a nice woman who had just graduated from UAB and was staying at the park celebrating. She had went for a run and stumbled on the race and decided “heck why not?” You go girl.

I finished loop 3 feeling much better than after loop 2. Paige again reminded me to eat, got me more tailwind, and I was off.

Loop 4 brought the scariest running experience I’ve ever had. I’ve run through rain before, but never lightning and thunder.

I was around mile 20 at this point and my legs were aching. I thought back to the amazing, cool stream crossing at Mount Cheaha and silently wished I could jump in the lake for a minute.

Then, almost halfway through loop 4, a massive strike of lighting, the boom of thunder, then the heaviest rain I’ve ever run through. It got dark instantly and the rain was so thick you could only see a few yards ahead. In minutes the once dry trails became streams.

The thunder and lightning were terrifying. “What happens if you get struck by lightning? How bad does that hurt? Will I die if I get hit by lightning? What if a tree is hit by lighting and falls. Will it hit me? Where will I go to be safe if a tree is falling beside me?”

Despite the fear, the cold rain felt amazing on my sore legs. The humidity had drained me but the rain seemed to make me come alive. By the end of the loop the sun was back out. I felt brand new after the rain.

Back to the aid station and the same routine: more tailwind, PB&J and a pickle then out for the last loop.

By this point I was over the loop. I now recognized certain points so I knew how far I had to go. The good thing was that I could still run and I mostly felt OK. Tired, but OK.

I finished the race in 6:43. That’s one hour and 48 minutes faster than Mount Cheaha. I was so happy. I finished feeling so strong and so proud to run a trail 50K in under seven hours.

All my trail friends were there and my family, including my husband, Ty, who was able to take some time away from work to see me finish.




I cleaned up and stayed to volunteer and watch the 12 hour runners finish. As ultrarunners do, we stand around and talk about all the races we want to run. “I think you’re selling yourself short by only doing the 50K at Blood Rock,” Jack Rawls said to me. By the end of the night, all these crazy people I run the trails with had convinced me I was more than capable of running 50 miles, especially since I felt so good after Run for Kids.

So, I may be running a 50-miler this Fall. We’ll see how it goes.

Either way, I'm so happy to have found this awesome trail running community. It’s been a blessing during a time of life transition and loneliness. You all know who you are. Thank you.

More ultra trail adventures are just on the horizon.