My DNF Running the Rut 50K
I'm coming back for more next year.
We have many opportunities for adventure throughout our lives. My call to adventure came with the horrific sound of my phone alarm. I turned off the alarm and pondered why I set an alarm on my phone at 8:55am on a workday. That wasn’t an alarm, it was a reminder. The sign up for The Rut 50K was opening in 5 minutes.
The Rut is a set of races in Big Sky, Montana around the Lone Mountain ski resort in September. The races vary from 11K, 28K and 50K. I’m up for the difficult challenge of the 50K. This race is known for selling out fast with about 500 entries allowed so I stare at the clock waiting.
8:58am, I wait with patience as if I’m waiting for a hot concert ticket to go on sale.
8:59am, the last-minute felt like it’s taking forever. I looked at my watch to see how many seconds until 9:00am. There was about 45 seconds.
A notification pings on my work computer that a meeting had begun with a Customer Business Manager that I work with. It’s not an urgent meeting so I send a swift message that I’ll be running a little late.
9:00am, I refresh the page and paste all my personal information in that I had copied into a note on my computer a few days before so I wouldn’t waste time typing it in. I hit submit, the page goes white and…. I’M IN!
I text my wife, Allison, and her cousin Alexa and Aunt Elise that I am in the race. Alexa and Elise live in near there in Montana so they’ll get to cheer me on! Now for the training to begin.
The Training
I live in Chicago. The windy city is also the hill less city. The only two hills near me are inconvenient to get to and only about 40 meters in length so I opt to run the stairs in my building for training. The building I live in has 20 floors and it works as a decent supplement for hill training. In hindsight, I didn’t run enough stairs in my training.
In a bulk of my training, I slipped back into my default. It’s easy to fall into. It’s hard to break out of old routines unless you’re intentional about it day after day until that becomes the new routine. This doesn’t come from a training plan or writing something down on paper. Breaking out of an old routine and into a new one comes from practice.
As I got into the end of July before my race, I started to feel like a student who procrastinated their thesis paper the entire semester. I started to ramp up my training as I should have several months before. While I’ll say the training was worthwhile, it was too little too late.
I was going to show up to the race no matter what. In the past, I’ve surprised myself in some of the challenges that I have endured. My first ultramarathon was a 50 miler. I didn’t feel as if I was ready for it when the race approached but I showed up and was able to hobble through it.
Even though I surprised myself with making it through the finish line of that race, I didn’t feel much pride in finishing it. The more I have reflected on this feeling, I realized it was because I didn’t train my hardest to do it. What does that mean, “to train your hardest?”
There will be days where you will probably not put the best effort in that you could. It’s inevitable on a long enough timeline. It’s only human to give into what Steven Pressfield in The War of Art calls “resistance” every now and then. Do not try to be perfect, be consistent and effective. Are you more consistent than you are not? Is what you are doing being effective? Somedays it’s okay to only show up but if you only show up everyday, your consistency will not be effective.
That is why I didn’t feel much pride in finishing my 50 mile ultra. While I gave the effort on race day, I had not given the effort across the duration of my training plan. That feeling of real pride comes from knowing that you did everything you could and if you come up short, that’s okay. At least you knew you gave a true effort.
The Race
I flew into Bozeman with my wife and her Aunt Elise picked us up at the airport. We arrived about six days early to help me acclimate to the altitude. The race starts at about 7,500 feet and averages out at about 8,400 feet according to my calculations. During the days before the race, we had a wonderful time out in the mountains fly fishing, hiking and I had the opportunity to do a few shake out runs. The first run out there, I was dragging ass but each day, I felt a little stronger. I wasn’t going to be fully acclimated by the race but if I could get to 85% of the way there, I would feel good about it.
The night before any big race or event is always full of overthinking. Do I have all my gear? Is everything set up? What if I wake up late? Is everything prepared so I don’t forget something if this happens? The scenario planning in your head can be endless so it’s best to make sure you have the main things and try to let go. The mind always remembers that thing you forgot when you’re not thinking about it anyways.
The next morning, I had my 5am wake up call with some left-over pancakes ready in the fridge for me to start my morning on. Elise, bless her, woke up at 5am to drive me to the start point and Allison tagged along to wish me luck before heading back to go sleep for another few hours.
There’s a mixture between anxious and confident energy in the air. The starts of these races are interesting. Everyone has their own routine and needs. People bring theraguns and foam rollers to massage themselves out. Others will warm up for what seemed like an hour straight of doing warm ups.
Over the speaker, I hear a loud Elk screech. This is the starting sound for this race which is fitting. Wave 5 gets called and it’s my time to go. I ended up near the front of the heat. I hate being in front because I feel like I don’t want others to pass me so I’ll run to their pace.
The Elk screech went off and the race began. The first mile was a steady incline. Similar to one you’d run up on a modest incline on a treadmill. It wasn’t so bad. I knew eventually I would have to slow down and I did but not on my own volition. I see runners running up the side of this hill that is steeper than any hill I have ever climbed. It’s one of those hills I’d see those good skiers going down when I was riding along side the catwalks in the winter. Holy crap this hill is steep. My estimations are that this hill was about a 50% grade in most parts of it. If you slipped and fell, you were in for quite the tumble.
I get about half way up the hill and need to take a second to catch my breath. My heart rate was at about 170bpm. I got out of the way from the other runners making their way up and looked down. It was kind of an incredible view. Pitch black out with the only visibility being moonlight and the headlamps of the runners. The trail of the headlamps got progressively smaller down the hill all the way to the bottom.
Another runner also stopped for a break near where I am. I couldn’t help but think that the runner stopped because I stopped. Sometimes in events like these, when you see another person slow down or stop, it gives you psychological permission to do so. Would this person have stopped if I hadn’t?
My heart rate calms down and I continued on. Seeing that another runner stop made me want to keep going ironically. I made it to the top of the hill and of course it was a false summit as there was another hill on the horizon.
My thoughts spiral as the I start to think, “you’re only 3% into this race, if you feel like this 3% of the way through, how do you think the remaining 97% is going to go?”
Thoughts like these are inevitable in any difficult endurance event. It’s the primal protective part of yourself trying to psych you out for your own protection. There’s a part of us that thinks pain is linear. Ultras teach you that pain is not linear. It has ups and downs and sometimes it goes away completely. It’s a great analogy for life. You might have a good day, then for no reason have a bad one. Events like these condense those thought processes from what would normally be spread out throughout weeks and months to 6-10 hours.
I kept moving forward, even if it wasn’t the pace that I wanted to be at. Forward is better than stillness. I began to get into a good rhythm with my trek-poles and started to run with some other runners along the way. I took the moment in and enjoyed the sunrise over the mountains.
As I approached the first aid station at 9am, Allison, Alexa and Elise were there waiting to cheer me on. This aid station had to be a quick pit stop. I had to make sure that I made the cut off but so far, it looked like I had a little time on my side. The next section was supposed to be more rolling hills without the ass kicking of the 50% graded hills. I got this.
I ran the next section with another runner who was local to the state but lived in Missoula. In all honesty, that part of the race was a blur to me so I cannot remember much of what we chatted about. We were mostly concerned about making sure we made the cut off. We were about at mile 9.5 and he said the next aid station was at mile 11.5. I looked at my watch at it was 10am.
15 minutes per mile seemed like we would get there. Our pace was decent but we decided to pick up the pace to make sure that we made it with ease.
Then it hit me. My foot struck the ground and every muscle below my waist became to cramp. They were completely locked out. I was stiff as a board and yelled out.
The man from Missoula asked if I was okay. I nodded back and told him to keep going. I didn’t want to hold him back. He asked if I was sure then kept moving along. I’ve dealt with cramps before. I also knew that some people were behind me so it wasn’t like I’d be completely stranded out here. I was only about a ¾ of a mile away from the aid station which was near the road.
I moved into a squat position hoping my quads would loosen out. After a few minutes they did but then I checked my watch. It was 10:23am. I spent too much time tending to these cramps. I had to move. I would run through these cramps if I had to.
The aid station was a similar location as the previous one. I ran across the bridge that I had run an hour and half earlier.
10:27am, I arrive at the bridge. I’m probably running a 9 minute per mile pace. I’m giving it everything I have.
10:28am, I see Allison, Alexa and Elise but can’t slow down to wave. I have to keep moving.
10:29am, I can see the aid station, it’s about 200 meters away.
I get to the aid station and look at my watch. It flipped from 10:30am to 10:31am.
Did I make it? I’m not sure how strict they’re going to be on this so I play it cool. I see the man from Missoula leaving the aid station and continuing on.
One of the volunteers for the race approached me, “you’ve done such a great job running this race, you should be proud of yourself…. Unfortunately, I have some bad news, you didn’t make the cut off time and we’re going to have to pull you from the race.”
I had a feeling that was going to happen. I didn’t fight her on it. I missed the time and there’s nothing more to it than that. I was disappointed but at the same time, I was a little relieved. I don’t think I would have been able to finish the race. Would I have liked to have had a shot at it? Of course!
I couldn’t imagine running another 16 miles in those mountains. I would have only have slowed down more and would have likely missed the cut off at an inconveinent location. I gave it my best.
I tell everyone what happened and they were as disappointed as me. I got into the car and of course, all the cramps I had earlier came back with a vengance. We got back to Elise’s house and I took a hot bath and reflected on what I could have done different.
Race prep was not the issue here. It was training.
Reflections
This January, I signed up again for The Rut. I’m coming back in 2026 to take this race back on. I’m not going to allow myself to make the same mistakes I made the first time.
I appreciated the challenge of this race. In the past, I have run several ultra marathons but all of them in the midwest. Some of them had rolling hills but nothing compared to running up a mountain at around 8,000 feet of elevation.
I still live in the Midwest. I’m still going to face the challenges of simulating mountain running. I’m not going to let that stop me. I’ll run up thousands of flights of stairs if I must to be ready for that. Running up stairs in an empty stairwell isn’t as fun of an environment to be as running outside in the mountains but that’s okay, I’ll look at it as a way to train myself mentally as well.
I’m fortunate enough to have a support system around me for races like these. One of the things I love about running races is not only the support from my family but also the support from the strangers who cheer people on and run the race. There aren’t a lot of places like it.
The DNF from this race was a hard one to swallow, was I disappointed? Yes. Do I regret it? Definitely not. I’m coming back this September for another try at it.