My First “Official” Ultra Race - McDowell Mountain Frenzy 50k Trail Race
Katelyn Kommer
I can be talked into almost any type of adventure. Two weeks after finishing the San Francisco Marathon I was on a run with a group of friends, and one of them mentioned a 50k / 50 mile race in the desert. Though I had sworn off any serious training until the spring, my ears perked up. The McDowell Mountain Frenzy Trail Races sounded like a blast. The event was about 45 minutes outside of Phoenix (where my sister lives), and took place in early December when the weather was (supposedly) nice. Though I produced more salt on my face than I thought possible and had a mini breakdown when I got lost 10 minutes from the finish line, I had an amazing time running through the Arizona desert just as ski season started in Utah.
Why I Loved the Course
The trails in my backyard mountain range are either uphill, downhill, or flat. Ascents are straight up with little respite until you reach the top, and descents are just a fight to control yourself against gravity. I’m so used to this style of running, so the terrain of McDowell Mountain really threw me for a loop. The trails were truly rolling, and everything was gradual. Though there were long uphill and downhill overall sections, every mile had a little bit of both. This made the entire thing very runnable, yet exhausting. I’ve grown accustomed to settling into a rhythm during either a climb or descent, and this route really kept me on my toes.
The trail itself was narrow singletrack that wound around the regional park in a big loop. We twisted through huge Saguaro cacti with craggy mountains dotting the landscape in the background. Though it was uncomfortably hot by the time I finished in the early afternoon, the first few morning hours were pleasant and cool. The amount of people running the race was perfect as well. The first couple of miles there was a bit of shuffling around, but by the end there were multiple miles where I didn’t see another soul. However, by the time I got to each aid station I could count on the camaraderie of fellow runners and volunteers to fill me up with fresh snacks and ice cubes.
The Highs
For the first 10ish miles, I yo-yoed along the trail with a woman who set a great pace. We ended up chatting for a few miles, and she told me about all of her absolutely amazing ultrarunning accomplishments. This was so inspiring, and when we finally parted ways we wished each other both an amazing day.
There are few things as special to me as a late race high. From miles 22 to 28, I rode an amazing wave of joy. This section was a gentle and gradual downhill, and was the moment of the race when the finish line felt tangible. There were absolutely no other runners around, so I sang out loud and made a few phone calls to tell some special people that I loved them. These moments late in a race are true proof that highs are on the other side of lows.
I’m a decent runner. In races of all levels I’ll typically place in at least the upper half of competing women, if not higher. However, living in Salt Lake City I tend to compare myself to the top tier athletes here. I told myself that for this race I would go out with what I thought was slow, and just enjoy it. I ended up placing 12th out of 85 women - potentially one of the best race “performances” I’ve had. It seriously inspired me to keep working at this sport and celebrate the athleticism I have that I usually deny.
The Lows
Though the highs far outweighed the lows for this race, no ultra is complete without a few tears. From miles 8-11ish, I hit a crazy wall and struggled through a mental and physical low point. My knees and feet ached, and I felt heavy. I tried my best to keep my mind from wandering to “how the hell am I going to finish this whole race,” but inevitably it went there. But, as most low points do, it went away as soon as I reached an aid station and a change of scenery. Experiencing a low this early in a race was a powerful reminder of how much further our bodies can go when they start to hurt.
As noted above, miles 22-28 were my favorite of the race. However, the last three miles were absolutely awful. There were so many ups and downs around each corner, and by that point I couldn’t run any of the uphills. I was absolutely exhausted as I slogged to the finish line. And then, at mile 30.5, I took a wrong turn and added an extra mile to my race. Though this is humorous now, it took a lot of my strength to turn around and trek back on course instead of sitting down and allowing myself a full mental breakdown.
At the finish line, one of my sisters, my mom, and my mom’s aunt waited for me to cross. It was so special to share that moment with people I love. At the moment, I was just happy to finish and didn’t care about my placement. However, once I found out how well I had done I wanted to retroactively kick myself for all the times I’ve played the comparison game. All athletes who finish an ultra race are amazing, and a mile is still a mile no matter how long it takes you.
