As Indiana's longest hiking trail, the 47-mile Knobstone Trail (KT) has always been a goal. In high school I backpacked the trail for the first time. In April of 2003, a friend and I set off to do the trail in two days as a slackpack (having a 3rd person shuttle water and our camping equipment). Our sleep at the southern trailhead was interrupted at 4am by cars pulling in to the parking lot, doors slamming then fireworks exploding. Our fears of locals having a wild party were interrupted by a line of headlamps and runners rushing past. Patrick and I thought we were pretty hardcore by attempting to cover the trail in two days, yet before we had even started a group of ultra-runners had surpassed us.

That first day on the Knobstone (almost 25 miles) was my highest mileage day ever on foot. Later that year I volunteered as sweep on the Tecumseh Trail marathon, basically walking the course the entire way non-stop. 26.2 miles was my new distance record. Exploring my limits, I hiked 30 miles a couple of times in the summer of 2004.

I thought more about the Knobstone. The organized event suggested that runners would finish between 14 and 16 hours after starting, a pace that worked out to 3.125 miles per hour. A pace I'd hiked on hilly terrain before, but I also knew that the Knobstone was hillier than the trails I trained on.

Thinking more seriously about the Knobstone, I researched other ultra-running events, reading up on nutrition, foot care, and run-walk strategies. I experimented on long Sunday jogs+hikes (I like to call them "jokes"). In mid-March I had hoped to do a 50k (31 mile) ultra-marathon in Kentucky, but car trouble prevented me from going. So the Knobstone 50 miler would be my first organized ultra event.

Friday I left work early and drove down to Delaney Park, the northern terminus of the Knobstone Trail. Here I meet a few veterans of the KT who already had a fire going in front of the bunkhouse we'd be staying at. A park employee came by and one of us paid for the deposit so we could get the bunkhouse unlocked. We were told there wouldn't be any water (running water wouldn't be turned on until the 15th). The employee returned a bit later with a ShopVac to rid the bunkhouse of the wall-to-wall dead bug carpeting.

Tom, the race director, and other runners showed up and we cooked up a few pizzas and had a pre-race briefing. Besides a 50 miler, Tom was offering races in distances of 50k, marathon, 1/2 marathon and 10k. All these start times would be staggered with the idea of having everyone finish around the same time back at Delaney. The 50 milers would start first, leaving in the shuttle van at 3am for a 4am start.

Watch alarms started ringing out at 2am throughout the bunkhouse at Delaney Park. After a little coffee, a bagel and some repacking of gear and we loaded up into 3 different vehicles for the 45 minute drive to the southern trailhead. At 4:05 am Tom set off a fountain of sparks from a firework and we started north. I put myself in the back of the pack for the first few miles. Three of us cranked off 15-minute miles, but the terrain wasn't too hilly (yet) and I felt I was holding back my quick walking pace by following the jog/walk combination of the other two runners. I found that my walking pace was much quicker than the other back-of-packer's, especially on hills (up or down), and their jogging pace was maybe a little quicker than my walking. Deciding to move at my own pace as we hit the first few hills, I passed by and caught up with a few other runners ahead on the downhill and the following steep climb to Jackson Road.

As we crested the ridges around Round Knob we could see the lights of Louisville in the distance and could hear roosters crowing as light appeared in the eastern sky. For the first 12 miles or so I kept alternating with a few different runners - they would pass me on any run-able terrain, and I'd catch them on the steep descents or ascents.

After our second aid station (mile 11) we had one big hill, then nearly 10 miles of mostly run-able terrain. Many of the runners I'd caught by this time started passing me, some of them wondering if I was okay since I was walking this terrain. I don't think too many of them understood my race tactic of just walking. I had determined this was my best shot of going the whole distance, even if it wouldn't win me any speed awards. I hoped by walking the whole course (especially the first 30 miles) I would reduce my chances of injuring myself and keeping enough energy to get through to the end.

After the New Chapel trailhead and aid station the course followed a sunken road filled with mud and hoof prints. I tried to avoid the mud where possible, but at times it stretched across the entire trail. The cool, dirty water oozing into my shoes felt refreshing for a few minutes, but probably contributed to my blisters as my feet pruned up.

Not long after we passed mile 20, the 50k group started, and one runner flew by me. I later heard this was an accomplished ultra runner who hopes to break the Appalachian Trail speed record this summer. He was very disappointed in his 50k time (over 6 hours) - which may show how rugged this course is.

Louisville, Kentucky would record a high of 77 for today, far warmer than I'd seen yet this year. To combat the heat I took to splashing water on my shorts and dunking my cap at each stream crossing. In a couple more hours I would be soaking my shirt as well.

At Leota trailhead, almost the halfway point, I changed socks, tried to fish all the pebbles out of my shoe, and tightened my laces - hoping that my loose shoes were causing the hot spot on my right heel. Two years ago this was the finishing point for our first day on the KT. I felt that I crawled the next few miles, between my heel pain and the hot weather starting to get to me.

However, within a few miles I had a second wind and started moving well again. On a steep uphill I passed another runner (who had passed me probably 12 miles previously). I took advantage of my newfound energy and ran a few of the downhill sections, which also felt better on my heel than walking. Maybe because I tend to strike with my forefoot when I jog down steep terrain.

While traversing the seemingly endless ridges around Elk Creek Lake, I discovered my mind wondering enough to talk to the chatty geese out on the water. Shortly after this I tried to sing Simon & Garfunkel's "Mrs. Robinson", but couldn't remember how it started.

Near the Elk Creek aid station the first of the marathoners caught and passed me. It was sickening watching him jog uphill. 5 miles later, at the penultimate aid station (Oxley) I arrived to find they were out of water. Brian, one of the 50-mile runners ahead of me was out of water, and was waiting to see if they'd show up with more. I took a few ounces of the little bit of Gatorade they had and mixed it in my drinking bladder. Unfortunately, I think this may have been a mistake. The energy drink mix I was using warned not to mix it with any product containing simple, refined sugars. Realizing I still didn't have enough water to make it to the next aid station, I topped up with water from a creek. I didn't have a way to filter the water, so I just grabbed water from as far up a valley as I could, hoping I wasn't downstream of any pollutants.

I decided to jog some more downhills and flats after the Oxley trailhead. During this period I came upon the most mindless bit of trail routing in the whole Knobstone: the trail turned out of a valley and ran straight up a hill almost to the top, curved around a tree and started back down hill into the valley it started in. I knew this section was here and could have avoided it, but decided I would rather suffer and hike the whole trail than cheat and save a climb.

For the last 10 miles I couldn't stomach any food. I knew I needed to eat, but nothing sounded appetizing. I don't know if this was because of being dehydrated or had anything to do with my water mix. I found myself belching the lime Gatorade and hoped my water wasn't making me sick.

I plodded on as best as I could, often turning in 20-minute miles. The hills were killing me. I had to slowly walk them, often stopping to catch my breath. My heart rate had gone up and my energy levels were low. I kept trying to drink, and dousing my hat and shirt in every stream I crossed to cool off. Still, I was moving at a similar pace to the last hundred feet on Chimborazo in Ecuador.

The northern end of the Knobstone Trail creates a figure-8. To stretch the 47 miles into 50, Tom routes the runners on a backwards "S" and then extends the finish into Delaney Park. Miles 41 and 42 descended down a valley. I was able to put in 15 min miles again to the last aid station. There I dumped out my strange concoction and filed up with straight water. Facing me was a hill more like a wall. I took several rests on this steep ascent, wondering if I could possibly finish in 14 hours and if the runner at the last aid station had gotten water and would catch me. I had heard from him that I was now in 8th place, and while I cared more about just finishing this event, I still thought it would be cool to finish in the exact middle.

On another hill at mile 45 I was taking a breather, bent over with my hands on my knees, and noticed two cubby jr high school girls out day-hiking catching up with me. That motivated me to try and keep moving at a consistent pace. Forcing myself to eat I took a bite of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which merely turned into a thick paste as I tried to chew it. I couldn't stomach more than the one bite.

With 3 more miles to go, I finally had some company. 1 marathoner passed me, then the race director out running the course in reverse laying down markings on the trail with flour to help those who may be still running the course as it got darker. He said I looked good, which I guess meant that I was still moving forward. I certainly didn't feel good. Now when I came to small creeks I could normally jump across I just laughed and had to wade through. I didn't have enough strength left to clear three feet of water.

At 1 mile to the finish, 3 more marathoners passed by, including the race director for the Tecumseh Trail run who shook my hand and congratulated me. Thankfully, it was all downhill at this point.

At 6:12pm I crossed the makeshift finish line in front of the bunkhouse where most of the other runners were hanging out. I got a few complements on completing and when I mentioned it was my first 50 miler, I got some shocked responses. They were even more surprised when I said I'd never done another ultra race (50k, etc).

The winner took about 90 minutes off the course record - finishing in 9 hours 30 minutes. He outran a few aid stations, passing by before they could be setup.

Post race recovery foods included a bowl of pasta, a Guinness, a bowl of ice cream and breadsticks. One of the dogs that had run a marathon came up and started licking my legs for all the salt content. When I got home and looked in the mirror I could see salt crusts on my face.

After coming home and showering, I devoured a bowl of pasta salad, some banana bread, and started in on a 1/2 strength bottle of Gatorade and went into work at midnight. Fighting off sleep I finished the work I needed to do and came home to crash by 1:30am.

Sunday morning I inspected my feet to find that I did develop a dime-sized blister on the heel of my right foot.

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