How to run a 50k with no actual training, in 11 easy steps!!

I think the best advice that I can give on this particular subject is "don't."

That being said, if you just want to throw caution to the wind (as I do) and run the ever loving f**k out of your legs just for kicks, then here is how to do it.

(note: for those of you who might be new to me, I'm obviously 100% full of shit. Never, EVER come to me for advice!! Training for endurance races is actually serious business, and even though I did not *train* specifically for this event, I have been running decent mileage for a number of years, and thus, can pull stunts like this and remain intact. Please do NOT attempt this if you have never run before!! Dear Lord!!)

But yes, I did just complete a 50K at Pineland yesterday. Totally unplanned. 100% spontaneous.
No, I really, REALLY did not train for this (as any of you who follow me on Strava are sure to have noticed.)
Also, I really did pull the trigger on this one the moment before online registration closed. So yeah, last minute.
So, now that I am an expert on how to almost win (or get like, 100th place) at a 50K, on junk miles only training, I have written up this handy dandy guide.

Today's blog is brought to you by the giant *rooster*

Step 1 for running a 50k, untrained: Pick the right weather day (meaning, you must wait until 24 hours before to sign up. #planning)
The REAL reason that I decided to participate was to capitalize on the ideal weather. 58 degrees, cloudy, breezy. The only thing missing was some heavy rain!! This is KEY because if you plan ahead, and your race ends up being on a 90 degree day, it will be awful for you. So no planning ahead, just wing it.

The face of a highly prepared woman.

Step 2: Have a rock solid training plan:
Or.... Marathon train all winter and then run junk miles all Spring. When you don't actually have anything to train for, junk miles are key. I ran some crap miles all last week before (first) being lazy for a day or two and (then) deciding that "lazy" was a good "taper" because, obviously. I ran 26.2 miles back in April some point, and that was obviously *instrumental* in getting me to the start of this adventure. (I need a sarcastic face emoji, for right here.)

Step 3: Give yourself a ton of time to prepare at the start, because everyone is *so* competitive: 
Well.... I didn't give myself a ton of time, but I did make it to the start before the gun went off. (shut up Danielle and Sarah.) As I drove in, I saw the 50 milers loping along through the hayfields, already well into their day (no thanks. but I was pleased not to see the 50k-ers starting without me.)
There was a good sized crowd lined up for the 50k, and while I did my best to line up as far back as possible, people kept moving back in line to get into last position. So, I would move farther back. And then they would. I would then move back even farther. And then they would... on and on this went, until the announcer basically yelled at people to get up to the start line!

Just let me start at the back!

Step 4: Know the damn terrain that you will be running on.
(FYI: I actually knew quite a bit about this particular aspect.)
Pineland is a hilly stupid farm. This is the only difficult part of running any of their races. While they are "trail" races, what that means for this location is running on dirt roads (like atv, or very wide xc ski trails) and wide, mowed grass paths. There is not one step of challenging single track terrain. No large rock faces to scramble over, no stream crossings. You even run on pavement for a hot minute.
It's like trail running for city folk. (like, trail shoes totally optional.)
HOWEVER. The easy appearance of the footing doesn't mean it is an easy walk in the park (hay field). The hills are quite relentless, with the elevation for the 50k coming it at over 3k'. There are definitely a few steep hills, and if you aren't careful they will smack you in the face your second trip around! Also, the hay fields are all cambered and your will always be running with one leg rather lower than the other (my left leg calls shenanigans on this every time I run this race.)
Anyway. I know that Pineland kind of sucks, so my 24 hours of preparation allowed me to mentally achieve zen, to embrace the suck.

Hilly Field. ALL ALONE!!!

Step 5: Have a (mental) turn by turn directional guide for how you will run each mile of the course.
Well. I knew that I was going to show up. Check!
I planned to run 25k for sure.
I thought then I would run around the first "loop" again, and then bail. Or walk. Or maybe something entirely different. I got bored for a while at mile 8 and thought maybe I'd just stop then.
Who could really know.
I figured I would run, at some speed, until I was over it. (winning here, as usual.)
Luckily, at Pineland you don't need *actual* turn by turn directions, because it is impossible to get lost. If you go off course, you will end up in with the cows.

Happy cows

Step 6: Nail the nutrition and hydration 
(I totally did) 
Right away, like at mile 3 I began to get hungry. This is never a great sign that early on, but I was pretty well stocked and planned to use the excellent aid stations. Over the years I have become much (MUCH) better at eating and drinking while running, and actually consider myself to be quite an expert in that area.
Over the course of the race I consumed:
-2 bottles of water (I carry one in my flip belt, and I refilled it half way through)
-Quite a few small cups of gatorade, starting at the half way point. I do not train with gatorade but I was parched and water wasn't doing the trick.
-2.5 bananas. I hate bananas. But I like them during very big runs (weird) I also will not eat unpeeled bananas that other hands have touched (gross) so I was VERY VERY HAPPY that the aid stations happily gave me some nice, whole, clean ones.
-a few little cups of pickles. YUM. (and only from the aid stations that had individual cups of snacks. No snack trough for this lady.
-peanut butter filled pretzels (a very good choice)
-one tiny cup of ice cold coke
-5 packets of untapped syrup, which is the gold standard for race fuel as far as I am concerned (I have used it exclusively for a year, and can't sing the praises loud enough.)
The moral of the story is that I might have been hungry for a hot minute, but I refused to stay that way.
I also refused to run doing the pee dance, and I stopped to pee 3 times.

Step 7: Don't be a jackass
Don't try to run fast. Ever, not even one step. Or, do. But don't say I didn't warn you!
During my first 50k I bolted off like a madwoman and paid the price.
Don't be me (of 2013), don't be that guy. If you normally run a marathon on the road, at an 8:00 pace (assuming, of course that you are not secretly an elite trail runner, undercover) plan to add actual honest to God minutes to your per mile pace. I ran an 11:20 pace, (which, of course took into account my 5+ minutes of stopped time, as it does/should.)
Even though I walked up every hill during both laps, I was still pretty friggin creaky for the last few miles.
Also, if you are going too fast you will not be able to take selfies, and snaps.

The all important selfie

Step 8: Wear the right kit
Don't wear the shorts that chafe your lady bits, even if they do have the best pockets.
Consider wearing your trail shoes maybe once (this year) before running 30 miles.
So, this segment of the program is basically "what not to do".  Heed my warnings.

Step 9: Prepare for things to not feel all that great at some point. Prepare to carry on.
I actually felt just fine for the vast majority of this run. I felt a little foggy just after the half way point, so I walked, had a big snack, and then felt good again.
I began to feel the impact of the mileage around 20, but did not feel sore until 24. And then it got pretty unpleasant. (I was just sore though, I mentally felt good, and my stomach was great.)
But the real TMI moment? Ready? So, as mentioned, my lady-parts-region (although, thank heavens not my *actual* lady bits) became super nasty chafed. And (as we all know) I have this really big fibroid. I had to pee late in the race, and I sneezed and peed just the littlest bit (as one does, shut up). My chafing burned like the fire of 1,000 suns and it was a horrible moment. The worst! (so, I pulled over immediately and peed.) Clearly the advice here is simple: don't pee yourself.

Step 10: Don't expect to win the race if you haven't trained. 
I, however, would not expect to win the race even if I HAD trained, so what's the difference, really?
While I did not win the race, I ran very close to the time that I predicted for myself. I expected to take 6 hours, and I managed 5:47 (about 40 minutes slower than my *best* 50k at Pineland effort.)
Really, the training for a 50k is pretty unpleasant, so I almost prefer the slower time, as completely skipping the training is pretty great! Fuck it! I'm not going to train at all for anything, anymore!

Not winning! Not caring!

Step 11: Because 10 is not enough, when the advice is of this elite caliber: 
Prepare to have a nice day. Really.
If I had ceased to have a nice day, I would have walked my ass back to my car and gone to get some pizza.
But, I did have a nice time. The weather was very pleasant. I enjoyed a perfect mix of running alone (which I like, when I am not pushing for a fast pace) and running with some very nice people. (Hi Mari and Haley!) I enjoyed looking at the cows, and the scenery (and the never ending hills..)
I enjoyed collecting my big green bell, even thought they tried to give me a tiny stupid one. I was like, "nope, I get a BIG bell, yo."

Big green bell

So there you have it. A very comprehensive guide to doing something that *in real life* requires quite a bit of training, with no training at all.

The best news? I'm really none the worse for it. My chafing has already retreated, and my legs are marathon level sore, nothing too extreme! I now plan to retire the 50k distance for a few more years, when I may actually put forth a modicum of training effort (or not, tbh. I felt pretty ok about how this run went!)