The support crew for this ultra runner expedition at the Yamacraw 50K ultra marathon consisted of my brother, Andy Kjellesvik, and buddy Jake Arvold. My wife, Bethany’s, role on the team was keeping the home fires burning (and keeping our home from burning down).
The crew in The Legion of Woodsmen and most everyone in my social circles knew this event was happening and had encouraged me in their own way.
The story arc for becoming an ultra runner can be inspirational, but it also adds layers of self-imposed expectations to perform. I didn’t want to let anyone down or waste their time. Maybe I was whistling in the dark, not testing out my injured knee, but hurt or not, we were going to Yamacraw.
The Boys Are Back In Town
We rolled into Whitely City, Kentucky a little late on Friday night and only caught the tail end of the pre-race orientation. A nervous politeness permeated the crowd of roughly 400 runners. 218 of us would attempt the 50K while the rest were there to run shorter distances. Despite differing mileages, everyone was hours away from their own self-imposed existential crisis. I wondered if anyone else in the crowd had secret doubts about a training injury.
I grabbed my packet which included my bib (lucky #156), snapped a few pictures with the boys, then loaded back up to find a decent pre-race dinner. If an Arby’s roast beef sandwich and curly fries complemented by ketchup is your ideal pre-race dinner, consider us successful. There just weren’t many healthy options in town.
We drove to our modest accommodations at the Fairbridge Inn for a quick and anxious sleep. I set my phone’s alarm for 4 AM and shut my eyes.
The alarm didn’t have a chance to go off.
Race Day
I woke at 3:30 AM, hopped in the shower, threw on my running gear for the day and carefully double-checked my finish line bag. Jake and Andy were up, too, organizing camera gear, food, and pouring over maps to identify aid stations where they could refuel me. Stepping out into the cool morning air, under the halogen glow of the hotel parking lot lights, other runners and their families were loading up, too.
We arrived at the main rally point a little after 6:00 AM. The line for bathrooms was already growing as runners anxiously attempted to void any extra weight from their systems. I was less concerned about my colon and more concerned about my untested knee. It had felt fine during my two weeks off, but was never really pushed. Friends and family back home were texting well wishes. After all the training and all the hype, I didn’t want to let everyone down with a DNF.
Runners, Take Your Mark!
It felt like my first day of school as I nervously boarded the bus with the other 50K runners to be shuttled to the trail head. I quickly found a seat toward the back and waved to Andy and Jake through the fogged up window. A day’s worth of adventure, fatigue, flirting with failure, and tests of endurance lay ahead.
The 50K runners disembarked at Lick Creek trailhead. Race organizers coordinated an impressive line of brilliant blue, clean port-o-potties. I made one last trip to the restroom then mingled with other runners, intermittently stretching or starting up small talk. There’s a strange sense of camaraderie at events like this, juxtaposed with the tacit knowledge that ultimately, we were each responsible for our own fates.
The race director played “Thunderstruck” on a small PA as he counted down the start: five, four, three, two, one, GO! I tapped Start on my Garmin fENIX, beginning a GPS track and personal timer. The anxious throng of runners lunged forward.
Ready for the next chapter in this ultra runner’s story? Go read Part IV! It takes place on the first section of the Yamacraw 50K course and is titled, I’ve Got a Bad Feeling.
Need to catch up on the previous chapter? Check out Part II: You’ll Blow Your Knees Out.
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