The Stone Cat 50-miler and marathon is a beloved trail race in Massachusetts. It’s a 12.5 mile looping course through Willowdale State Forest in Ipswich that features scenic, rolling forest terrain, two well-stocked clown-commandeered aid stations, a giant dancing cat handing out Kahlua shots in the middle of the woods, and simply the coolest race t-shirts and finishers jackets. (That’s why I wanted to run it, actually — so I too could sport the famed finishers’ gear.)

Online registration for Stone Cat closed less than one hour after it started. Five minutes before it opened, I Skyped back and forth with Mr. P over whether I should register for the marathon or 50-miler. He thought I should try the 50-miler, but I need a few more marathons and 50ks under my shoes before going 50 miles. Picking the marathon turned out to be a fortunate decision, as I had been dealing with a niggling pain in my right lower quadricep ever since the TARC 50k (that turned out to be a 55k) three weeks ago. Afterwards, I rested my legs for a week and a half, ran a few very slow 4-milers, and then last weekend decided to do a hilly 6-mile trail run. This re-aggravated my quad. It was a minor pain but I am very cautious about doing anything that could result in a long-term injury, even though Stone Cat was my last race of the season and I had already planned to take a two-month break from running, I was haunted by the fear that I wouldn’t be able to do anything — walking, swimming, yoga, skiing — if I didn’t let my quad heal properly.

So, early last week I mentally “let go” of Stone Cat. I went swimming a few days, walking a few days, and despaired over the pinching pain in my leg that popped up. Then, I decided to get a massage on Wednesday. The only masseuse available was a man from China who did “Level 4 traditional Chinese massage.” I told him about the pain in my quad. He spent about 30 minutes on my neck and back, and barely touched my legs. When I woke up Thursday morning, not only did my neck feel like it was filled with sand, the injured part of my quad had a weird pounding pain. I despaired even further. Then, Thursday night I noticed my leg felt… fine. Friday morning I took a 4-mile walk and it still felt… fine.

“I’m doing Stone Cat, even if I have to walk the whole thing!” I declared to Mr. P, who encouraged me to go but also cautioned that I should not run through any pain. Because he knows me. He knows if I went, I would try to finish no matter what. But I promised to run slowly and, if I felt any pain, to walk — even if it took me 8 hours and I finished dead last in the marathon.

The race started a 6:15am Saturday morning. I woke up, drank some coffee and water, ate a granola bar and peanut M&Ms (purloined from Little Boy’s Halloween bag, which he hilariously has forgotten about), and then drove 1 hour to the race. I was tempted to take a few Ibuprofen but I was scared that I wouldn’t feel my quad if it started to hurt — plus, the whole “remote chance of kidney failure” thing. I picked up my number in the elementary school gym where all the runners hung out until the start. (Gotta love it when the line for the men’s room is 10 times as long as the line for the ladies’ room!)

The 50-milers started about 15 minutes before the marathoners; we had to take an extra loop around around the school before hitting the trail to add an extra mile (although it was actually a half-mile loop according to my Garmin). We ran with headlamps. I went slowly… oh, so slowly, about 12 minute mile pace. I waited for that niggling pain in my quad, but it felt… fine. I kept pace with the other back-of-pack runners, most of whom were either 10-20+ years older or 30-40+ pounds heavier than me. The biggest “climbs” are at the beginning of the loop; we snaked up the hills in a long line. 2 miles, 3 miles. The pack began to thin by the time I reached the first aid station. There was bacon! Pancakes! It all smelled so good but I knew my digestion wouldn’t stomach it, so I drank some water and continued. I began talking with two older women who are in a running club together; good conversation and a distraction  from thinking about my quad. We ran to the second aid station together and they decided they were going to stop and eat; I grabbed a piece of blueberry bread and continued on by myself.

Between miles 10 and 12, I did feel a tightness in my quad. I stopped and walked a few times and this sorted it out. Before I knew it, I had finished the first loop and reached the school again. I grabbed my cell phone from my drop bag and called Mr. P; he was planning on showing up at 1pm with Little Boy but I told him he may want to come sooner because I was still running and progressing faster than we envisioned. (As I talked on my cell phone, the first two 50-miler men were finishing their second loop out of four. Blazing! They would eventually set a course record.)

I began to pass marathoners on the second loop. My pace was steady (13 minute miles on the hilly sections, 11 minute miles on the flats). I tried not to think about how much faster I would be going if not for my quad because I was just thrilled to be able to run at all! Trail running in New England autumn is heavenly: physically taxing, yet mentally clarifying, and spiritually fulfilling.

Towards the end of the second loop, my hips began to feel tight and tired but I could still carry a 12-minute mile pace. At the aid station, they offered me booze and Advil — “Or both, if you want to mix.” I laughed and ate an Oreo. The runner who came in after me did take, like, a handful of Advil. When we began running together out of the aid station, he admitted that Advil was getting him through this race; he did 5 other races in the past 5 weeks and had a pain in his hamstring. He ran ahead of me but eventually I passed him again, offering some words of encouragement. There but for the grace of a Chinese masseuse, go I.

With just a flat straight mile left, I could see three women ahead of me. I gritted my teeth and began chasing them. Why not — I spent the whole race at a relaxed pace, loving the camaraderie and kindness of the back-of-the-pack, and I still had something left. I passed them just as I turned onto the home stretch of the school property, and then sprinted to the finish line. 5 hours, 26 minutes.

It was impossible to be disappointed with my time, especially since a lot of people were clapping and yelling “Strong finish! Way to go!” Mr. P and Little Boy were on the playground and came running over to me as I received my marathon finishers’ pullover sweatshirt. It’s huge and orange and makes me look like a pumpkin, but it’s warm as hell and I will probably wear it for the duration of winter. “So you can’t see how fat I’m getting while I take my two-month break from running,” I told Mr. P while sipping my well-deserved cup of Ipswich Brewery’s Stone Cat Ale (the race’s namesake).

I woke up this morning feeling sore all over, but my quad feels… fine.