Quad Rock - Trail Reflections

Still trying to process finishing the Quad Rock 50. Fifty trail running miles. Over 11,000 feet of gain. Endless climbs, technical descents, heat, pain, and one of the toughest athletic experiences I’ve taken on in a long time.

The timing of getting off the waitlist for Quad Rock honestly worked out perfectly. Just three weeks earlier, I had completed my first official ultra marathon at the Rattler Trail Race 50K. That 30-mile course ended up being exactly the kind of training and reality check I needed heading into a 50 miler.

I approached the Rattler like I was on a mission. The course was two loops, and after the first loop I was sitting in 6th overall and feeling strong. But around mile 17 or 18, things changed quickly. My right knee started flaring up on the descents and every downhill became a battle. I now know I was dealing with runner’s knee. I adjusted, slowed down where I needed to, and kept fighting through it. Ended up finishing 20th out of 80 runners.

That race gave me confidence, but also a healthy amount of skepticism heading into my first 50 miler. I knew I could move well for a long time, but I also knew the wheels could start coming off at any point.

A little peer pressure from my Arvada Runners crew pulled me into the ultra trail running world in the first place. I signed up for Quad Rock off the waitlist purely because of FOMO… and somehow ended up at the starting line.

The first 17 or so miles of Quad Rock were something special. I was running with my buddies Greg and Zach from the run club, and we were just enjoying it. We ping ponged back and forth, laughing, joking, and keeping things light before the realities of an ultra really started to settle in.

The downhills at Quad Rock were brutal on the knee, but I stayed steady on the climbs and just kept moving forward. Aid stations became survival mode: hydration, fueling, ice, cold sponge baths, and even the occasional scoop of snow to keep the body functioning.

At mile 25, everything shifted. That was the point where the race essentially “restarts” at an aid station turnaround and you head back out to do the entire experience again in reverse. It was wild how quickly you start anticipating what is coming next, just in the opposite direction. The climbs, turns, and suffering all feel familiar, just flipped. With my knee hurting on the downhills, the ups became my strength. I would reel people in on the climbs, then watch them pass me back on the descents. Still, I could tell I was holding steady. I stayed with the same general group of runners and knew I was maintaining pace even while managing pain.

After passing the last cutoff point, I knew I had a real chance of finishing the race. I started powering up the climbs, slowly reeling in runners ahead of me. At the last Towers aid station, I took time to fuel up and reset for a strong finish. I knew the final downhill would be tough, but somewhere along the way I either got a second wind or just went numb to the pain. I realized my knee hurt the same whether I tried to manage it or just ran, so I stopped overthinking it.

I embraced my inner Forrest Gump and just started running, and running, and running to the finish line.

This race tested me physically and mentally in ways I didn’t expect. Somewhere along the way I discovered that humming or singing out loud helped distract my brain from the pain. Mental survival tactics at their finest.

What impressed me most throughout the day was the volunteers. Every aid station was filled with people eager to help however they could. Their energy and encouragement gave runners a huge morale boost exactly when it was needed most.

I also ended up being the only Arvada Runner to finish the 50. I didn’t realize how stressful and unforgiving the race cutoffs would be until mile 40 at the Horsetooth aid station. I rolled out of there at 4:05 p.m. with a posted cutoff of 4:30 p.m. That’s when it became very real that I had to pick up the pace if I wanted to finish before the final 7:30 p.m. cutoff.

At the finish line was the entire Arvada Runners crew, cheering me in and celebrating my lightning tortoise speed finish. There is nothing better than finding your community and true friends who will happily support you while also convincing you to do hard things.

Finished at 13:15, with forty-five minutes to spare.

Until next time…