Ever wonder what running for 24 hours feels like? Until recently, I hadn’t.
Last year, my friend Zach paced me for my 40 mile birthday run in Joshua Tree. While we were running together, he told me about Pemberton, a 24 hour 5k trail event. It sounded awful, your classic type 2 fun situation. I told him I was in.
A few months passed before it dawned on me that I should learn more about this event I signed up for. The Pemberton 24 takes place in Salisbury, MD. There’s a 5k every hour, on the hour starting at 7pm on a Friday, and participants can run as many “laps” as they’d like. Everyone camps out near the starting line. Some runners are on teams of 4, others run solo… but no one is running alone at this event.
Leading up to this event, I ran at my leisure and when life allowed, but didn’t train specifically for it. I was excited to see how my body would react to all of the stop and go, as well as the lack of sleep, but was not compelled to alter my running routine to prepare.
I rolled up to Pemberton Historical Park a few hours before the first 5k began, found our campsite in a big field, and got my stuff organized as best as I could. I knew I wouldn’t want to dig for supplies once the running started.
Folks congregated at the starting line for the first 5k, which kicked off at 7pm. Spirits were high, and some folks were in costume. I wasn’t nervous, but was intensely curious to see how many 5ks I could run before my body (or my mind) forced me to stop.
Before I knew it, it was 7pm and we were off!
The first 5k felt great. The sun was shining, the energy was high, and there was lots of friendly chatter. I discussed race strategy with friends old and new. Zach told me that his plan was to run his 5ks at a leisurely pace, finishing each lap in roughly 45 minutes, so that he’d have 15 minutes to resupply at camp and line up again. In the moment I realized this conversation was the most thinking I’d done about planning… and his sounded like a solid plan to me. I figured I’d just take it easy and see if I could get 24 laps in over the next 24 hours.
Right off the bat, I noticed the trail was more technical than I’m accustomed to, with lots of exposed roots and uneven sections that would not be forgiving after sunset. I felt grateful for my Altra trail runners, and prepared to be on high alert during laps run in the dark, which would be very soon. The sun was already setting during this first lap.
We approached a section of trail that was underwater, and you could hear the collective groans as runners got their feet wet for the first time. This wasn’t just a puddle… there was a long stretch of trail under a foot and a half of water. I overheard that this was due to a tidal river near the course, and the recent super moon.
I finished my first lap in about 42 minutes. Talk about a leisurely 5k!
Rolling back into camp, the sun was down and the stoke was high. I grabbed my trusty flashlight, and before I knew it, we were lining up for the next 5k.
The water was noticeably deeper on lap 2, and I was wondering whether this trend would continue. I’d say there was about a quarter mile of deep sloshing on the route. I didn’t mind getting wet, but there were large roots underwater, and it felt like a twisted ankle waiting to happen.
Lap 2 was in the bag, and my ankles were intact. The finish line featured a rotating variety of snacks galore. Oh, Tastykake, a familiar childhood delicacy, don’t mind if I do. I never eat junk like this while running, but what’s the worst that could happen?
Back at camp again. Zach had brought a stack of pizzas with him. I was just coming off of the Whole 30 diet, and I hadn’t had pizza (or any dairy) in a few weeks. I decided to crush a slice, and it was wonderful.
Fast forward to lap 7. It’s 1am, and there’s noticeably less chatter. I’m in the zone. The crowds are noticeably smaller, which means less bottlenecks. I am pleased with this development.
Halfway through the lap, I started to get some intense cramps. It was clear that my stomach was responding to the sugar and dairy assault over the last few hours. I won’t get too into the details, but I had to make some pit stops on this lap, and ended up walking the remainder of the lap, finishing in 50 minutes.
I slowly made my way back to camp under the light of the moon, feeling frustrated with myself for my food choices.
I felt dizzy and nauseous, and began to process the fact that my race was over. I had run about 21 miles, and I know how my body responds to that. What I was feeling was definitely not from the mileage, but from the food. In any case, making it back to the starting line for the next lap was not an option in that moment.
I decided to lay down in the tent. I started feeling vertigo and was worried that perhaps I was genuinely sick, or had COVID.
I woke up about an hour later, and once I realized where I was, I felt like a new man. All of my symptoms were gone, and I knew I was back in the race. After reckoning with my race being over, I was beyond stoked to be back in the game.
I changed into fresh clothes and warmed up by the campfire while waiting for my friends to get back from their laps. Victorious high-fives were exchanged, and before I knew it we were all lined up for the 5am lap.
I can’t put into words how stoked I was to be running again. Something about the quick nap, recovery, and diving back into this crazy middle-of-the-night adventure with friends had me overflowing with gratitude.
While sloshing through ankle-deep water, the sun started to rise and it dawned on me that there was nowhere else I’d rather be in that moment.
Gratitude gave way to flow state, and the laps were flying by. 30-ish miles in the bag, and I was feeling great.
Zach’s brother Dan served up some egg and cheese sandwiches, which had me feeling nostalgic about McDonalds stops on family road trips as a kid. Did I learn my lesson with the pizza earlier? Absolutely not. Egg sandwich down the hatch.
Around 10am, I finished my 13th lap and noticed some intense hip pain setting in. Back at camp, I made some half-assed attempts at stretching, but it was clear that I needed to take a break, and I was once again concerned my race might be over.
I decided to walk (limp) over to the massage area to see if someone might be able to help. There was a long wait for massages, but I noticed a physical therapy tent, so I walked over to chat with her. This woman (Kate from Driven Physiotherapy) quickly assessed the situation and worked some magic. I couldn’t believe it. 10 minutes later, I was walking back to camp without pain and was ready to start my next lap.
For the second time, I felt immense gratitude to still be in the race. I had only missed one lap while sorting out the hip pain, and was ready to run again at noon.
I felt good on this lap – as good as one might hope for after 45 miles and an hour of sleep. They were serving pickles at the finish line, and I got this flattering photo as a keepsake.
For the next few laps, I was thinking about how quickly we can connect with people through shared experiences. I had never met 2 of Zach’s friends before, but I was feeling solid camaraderie with them as we pushed each other through this challenge.
Buddha taught that suffering is a universal experience that connects all sentient beings. As the hours slip by and the miles climb into the double digits, the walls come down and before you know it you’re commiserating with someone someone whose name you don’t know about how much your ass hurts.
The last few laps were a bit of a blur. My body was tired, and I was feeling spaced out. I’d make a plan to skip the next lap, but then someone in my crew would say “let’s go line up again” and my plan would immediately go out the window. I’m not sure what this says about me, but I’m happy that I pushed through.
All of us skipped some laps here and there, but we ran the final lap at 6pm together. This was lap #19 for me, and I was feeling pretty happy with what I accomplished as I crossed that finish line for the 19th time. I had run just shy of 60 miles in 24 hours. I’d never done anything like that before, or even thought to try.
So what’d I learn?
Strategy: Unless you’re trying to win a 5k (the first 3 finishers in each lap get extra points), there’s no reason to run quickly. I found that too much downtime between laps worked against me, as I’d cool down and it’d be harder to get moving again. The best strategy for me was ~45 minute 5ks, leaving just enough time to walk back to camp, check in with folks, replenish food/hydration, and head back to the starting line.
Course: Running the same route repeatedly is interesting. This course was dynamic, as the tide came in and out. Several sections would be dry one hour, and then have ankle deep water the next. This kept things interesting: sometimes that long wooden bridge is dry, other times it’s slippery, and for a few laps it’s underwater entirely and you might slip and fall off into the swamp. I was very happy to have several pairs of dry socks with me.
Camaraderie: Running with friends made this so fun. For me, the camaraderie is a game changer. I’d be feeling gassed after a loop, limping back to camp for a break, and a brief exchange with a friend would have me feeling energized and ready to do another lap. It makes all the difference in the world.
Would I do it again? Absolutely. I think going into this with a clearer idea of what to expect would help me to prepare better, and I think I could get a few more laps in next time. I do think skipping 1-2 laps to rest is probably a good idea though.
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