The Finish
Part 6: Cayuga Trails 50 & a writing prompt
“Muddy meadow” was an understatement. I couldn't believe how different it looked from my first pass through. Pockets of mud held standing water, and each step was a surprise. How far down would my sneaker go? I kept repeating, Get through this section. Get through this section.
I lifted my knees, rushing from board to board as they bounced and wobbled beneath me. Mud and water splashed up my legs. I just wanted to escape this section. I slid all over the place while boards popped up and slapped back into the muck. I figured no one was around to witness my wild scramble.
Wrong. A runner appeared behind me. As he got closer, he called out, “This is kinda dangerous. I don't want to get hurt.”
I shrugged off his comment; injury hadn't crossed my mind. I had one goal: get the heck out of here.
When the mud finally gave way to solid ground, hallelujah! I'd made it through. Best part? I didn't have to do it again.
Now for the aid station at mile 40. The runner behind me took off ahead, and I kept him in view as long as I could before he disappeared. Maybe I'd find another run buddy at the aid station.
When I arrived, it was pure celebration. Music, spectators, and volunteers packed the area with laughter and cheers that energized my tired legs. I refilled my flasks and grabbed a banana. Let’s go!
Soon after, I spotted a familiar vehicle. Could it be? I looked to the right and saw a tall man wearing a white and black checkered flannel jacket. Jeff! I was stunned—they had found me. My children were cheering, and my mom stood on the far side of the vehicle. I stopped and rushed over for hugs.
“I probably won't be done until 6 pm,” I told Jeff.
He nodded.
“I'll meet you at the dance recital. I should make it in time.”
I figured that was goodbye to my cheer squad, but my husband had other plans. I love that he didn't listen to me.
I turned my focus to the stone steps at Buttermilk Falls. If I can just get through that section, all I have left is the creek one last time. I can do this.
As I neared the falls, distant cheers reached my ears: “Go Mama Go!” “Alright, Jules!” I looked up to see my family waving from the other side of the falls—just the boost I needed. Their voices carried me up those stone steps, and I smiled despite the pain.
At the top, relief washed over me. Stone steps officially conquered! I returned to running and focused on the last aid station at 45.5 miles, where bacon scented the air. I topped off my flasks one final time.
Now the road section, then the creek. I regretted not bringing gloves on the road as my hands grew cold and stiff. Come on, legs, let's go. I was thrilled to spot another runner ahead. I focused on her back and slowly reeled her in. We encouraged each other until she slowed to a walk while I pressed on. I was happy to return to the woods for shelter from the wind.
The creek was next, one last time. My feet would get relief before the final push to the finish—two miles to go.
At the muddy bank, I attempted the same sideways step I'd used before, but the surface was too slippery. I lost my footing and slid down, grabbing a branch to steady myself as I plunged into the water. The ice-cold shock hit me—I'm alive.
Last stretch. Go! Go! Go!
I weaved through the trails, eyes fixed ahead. So close now. Through the trees, I glimpsed the finish line. Almost there! Cheers and music filled the air.
I increased my pace as best I could around the final corner. There was the finish line and my family! I couldn't believe they stayed to see me finish. Fifty miles conquered. Fifty run buddies carried me. As I embraced my family, my heart overflowed with emotion. They reached the finish line, and I finished before 6 p.m.
We did it.
Thank you so much for reading along and sharing with your running friends. Thank you
, , , , , for the restacks over this series.Keep moving,
Julie
We will resume writing together on Zoom next Monday, 7/7/25. See you then!
Writing prompt: Think of a time when you had to keep telling yourself “just get through this section” to overcome a physical, mental, or emotional challenge. Write about that moment—the messy middle where you weren't sure you'd make it, the unexpected help (or obstacles) that appeared along the way, and how it felt when you finally reached the other side.
One more thing… we meet in person this Wednesday, July 2.
Please join us. Click the button below for details and to register. Drop-ins welcome.
Hooray, Julie! You did it! What a great running story. The water you fell in must have been SO cold, and gathering self to finish the run after that, so impressive. I love that your family was there to cheer you on! I imagine that a hot shower and warm, dry, comfy clothes at home might have felt victoriously luxurious in the most comforting way!
What an achievement, Julie! I can’t even run a mile these days, so I’m in awe. I’m sure, as others are saying, you’re a huge inspiration to your family, friends and to those who read your brave words describing the experience..
I wonder if such physical challenges are a salve for internal ones. If so, I should probably push myself physically more than I do because the psychological stressors are sometimes pretty overwhelming. I walk rather than run for exercise, but it does help!