A day on the Allegheny Front Trail.

I felt sick when I woke up. Or more accurately, got out of bed, because it felt like I barely slept a wink all night. A soreness was creeping back into my throat and a nagging voice was growing louder in my head, questioning my ability to complete a 40 mile trail run today. Was this just a dumb idea? I had been fighting some sort of sickness earlier in the week but was feeling better until last night, when I felt a tickle in my throat again.

All week I had considered if I should postpone, but at this point, I really just wanted to get it done. I didn’t want to spend another week resting, preparing, and anxiously anticipating. If I had truly felt terrible, I would have pushed it off, but I felt good enough that I should at least try. If I got out there and things really went south or I felt like I was totally wrecking myself, I didn’t have to continue.

On the way up to Black Moshannon, I sipped my coffee and tried to choke down my bagel, but my stomach was in knots. We were there before I knew it, Barb and Brent already waiting in the dark parking lot. I left the uneaten third of my bagel on the dash to finish later and donned my running vest. It was time to get this done.

Quick kisses for the boys, and we set off across the road and onto the trail. It was damp but not raining yet. A whooping sound pierced the darkness — a coyote? Or an owl? We got closer and it became obvious it was an owl. A little further down the trail, we heard a woodcock doing its mating dance. Pitch black turned to bluish gray as the faintest hints of dawn appeared in the sky. A ruffed grouse beat its wings, the rhythmic drumming sound cutting the foggy twilight.

It was peaceful and quiet — neither of us speaking much. I was trying to control my effort and breath through my nose as much as possible, not wanting to irritate my throat or lungs by gasping for air or burn myself out too quickly. So far, I was feeling good — not at all like I shouldn’t be running. One-fortieth of the way there! I joked when my watch beeped at the first mile.

We had timed our start to get to Ralph’s Majestic View around sunrise, but there wasn’t much to see except fog. Still, the Ralph’s portion of the trail was always one of my favorites, hugging the very edge of the Allegheny Front and dropping steeply in and out of little creek valleys.

As we neared the final climb up to Rt. 504, we heard voices, and I spotted Evan’s bright green rain jacket in the distance. It was a joy to see the boys, as it would be at every road crossing for the rest of the day. It was always a mental boost and a sign that we’d almost completed another leg of the journey.

At the van, I refilled my water flasks and grabbed another snack to throw in my vest and a donut to eat now. But I’d underestimated how challenging it would be to eat an entire donut at once. Despite the fact that I was burning through calories, eating was already a struggle. So I took off down the trail with the donut in hand, taking small bites at a time. I held that donut for over a mile until I finally finished it off, but it did fuel me the rest of the next 5-mile leg.

I love the Rock Run section of trail, from the Tram Road/Rt. 504 trailhead to where it crosses Tram again. A lot of this section is downhill, and while rocky in spots, is very runnable. It is a nice change of pace after the steep and very technical Ralph’s vistas section. The miles went by fast and easy, and soon we were hitting double digits. It drizzled on and off, and I found myself going back and forth between wearing my jacket and shoving it in the back of my pack. It was an in-between temperature (in the 40s) that felt cold sometimes and warm the others.

We stopped at a small stream crossing the trail and commented how that wasn’t there a few weeks ago, when we had run this section on our peak long run of training, a marathon (my first!) on the first 26 miles of what we were running today. There was a lot more water now, the past several days of rain filling the creeks to capacity. The wet mossy rocks almost glowed bright green. I looked up at the sky and commented how it seemed brighter — maybe it was clearing up? Or maybe it was just an illusion.

The boys were out for a ride when we got to the next road crossing, but they had left us the keys to get into the vehicles to resupply. I was looking forward to the next section, another favorite of mine for its rolling hills, nice mix of rocky and runnable, and rhododendron tunnels along Benner Run. Halfway up the first climb, I realized that yet again I had forgotten to take my headlamp off. I had been so focused on refueling at the last stop that I had forgotten it was still on my head, and here I had forgotten again. Apparently it was that comfortable.

The Allegheny Front Trail travels through a variety of landscapes throughout its 40+ miles, which is part of why I love it so much. Each section is unique. There are the steep and rocky valleys punctuated by vistas, rolling open plateaus, off-camber cuts right next to streams and rivers, and pine forests. There is a moderate amount of climbing over its length, but it’s not crazy. There are parts that are very rocky, and other sections where there isn’t a rock for miles. Part of why I chose it for my first ultra run was this balance. The elevation and technicality wouldn’t be extreme, but at the same time the steep and rocky sections that would require walking would be a welcome break from running.

After crossing over Black Moshannon Creek, the trail travels along the creek, weaving through thick rhododendrons that were beginning to grow into the trail. After the morning rain, the leaves were heavy with water. It was impossible to not continuously brush up against them, so it wasn’t long before we were soaked, even through our rain jackets. I had been wearing a lightweight shell that I’d call water resistant, because the morning drizzle wasn’t quite enough to necessitate a full-blown rain jacket as I knew how hot I would get in a non-breathable layer.

The boys caught us just as we emerged from the rhododendron gauntlet, before the climb up to Meyers Run Road and the next pit stop. Evan tucked in behind us, keeping up in his muck boots, though to be fair he does have at least a foot on my leg length. At the car, I tried to choke down some ramen and refilled my pack for the next segment — the longest we would have without an aid station (about 9 miles). I shoved my almond butter and blueberry sandwich (I didn’t have jelly, and I prefer the fresh berries anyway) into the side of my pack in addition to a couple more bars and some energy gummies.

We weren’t stopped for long, but it was long enough to get thoroughly chilled, especially because I was damp from the rain and wet rhododendron leaves. I put on a dry jacket on top of my running vest, my two flasks protruding from my chest comically. You’re looking pretty buff, chuckled Brent.

The next couple miles were an easy, slightly downhill grade before the trail dropped steeply to the Red Moshannon at Potter’s Point. But my legs had quickly stiffened up from the cold when we stopped, so even on the gradual downhill, my run was more like a shuffle until things loosened up. And at almost 20 miles in, I was beginning to feel the fatigue. I told Barb to go in front, as she’s faster on the descents, and I wanted to be cautious and not push to go faster than I was comfortable on the loose, babyhead-sized rocks.

Barb typically runs behind me because she says I “keep a good pace.” I am slow but steady, in both running and biking. At this point, I am used to it, but sometimes I still hear that voice creeping in telling myself that I’m holding her up, because I know that she is a faster runner than I am. Sometimes, I just need to let her go ahead.

The trail follows the Red Moshannon for several miles before climbing to meet Casanova Road and Six Mile Run. It weaves amongst more rhododendrons, crosses multiple small streams, and follows an old roadbed for a while. It is remote and varied, a lovely section of trail. But it is tough to get to, thus I had only done it a handful of times, most of them being during training for this run. There are no roads or other trails nearby, only Moshannon Creek as it makes its way towards the West Branch of the Susquehanna.

My feet were starting to feel the effects of sitting in wet shoes for the past 7 hours, and a raw spot was beginning to form between by big toe and second toe. I was suddenly grateful for Evan’s suggestion to pack chamois creme for just this situation, and grateful that I had remembered at the last minute to toss the tub of it in my bag. The next “aid station” was in a few miles, and I couldn’t wait to smear some on my toes and put on some dry socks.

When I had run a marathon on this section of trail three weeks prior, my ankles and feet (soreness, not blisters) had been my weak point. I had realized then that I probably should have been doing more foot and ankle strengthening work all along, as my body just wasn’t used to running 30-40 miles per week, and I built up to that fairly quickly after steadily sitting at 15-20 miles per week for much of the earlier part of the winter. In the weeks since, I had added in foot and ankle mobility work, and that seemed to have helped. Or I had just adapted, probably a little of both. Either way, my ankles were not an issue thus far, which was a pleasant surprise.

As we approached Six Mile Run Road, I realized we were on target for just about exactly when I said we would get there in a text to our crew and Shannon and Rebecca a few hours earlier. Shannon and Rebecca were out doing a gravel ride and were going to try to catch us at Six Mile. I was so happy to see the bridge in the distance, and when we popped out onto the road, Brent and Evan cheered and clapped for us. Evan had the stove going with hot pierogi and bacon waiting — it was the first thing I actually felt like eating since my donut hours ago. I quickly got to work on foot care — baby powder, chamois creme, and dry socks. I decided to not change my shoes (my original plan) because other than the wetness, my feet were feeling good, and my other pair of shoes was very new. In my last minute efforts to figure out my foot and ankle soreness, I had ordered a few different pairs of shoes to try but didn’t have enough miles on any of them to trust that they would work for me for the last 14 miles.

Shannon and Rebecca showed up as I was finishing up my snacks, and I was so glad the timing worked out to say quick hellos. Evan got Moon suited up with her vest and bell, as she would be joining for the final leg along with Barb’s dog Magellan (who had also done the first 17 miles with us, so he would have a 50k for the day!). She was hyped up and ready to roll, pulling at the leash in all directions. Time to get this done.

Across the road, I let Moon off leash and she proceeded to zoom all over, chasing and splashing in the water, running up ahead and then back. My idea to have her join for the last portion was strategic, hoping that she would provide some entertainment and something to focus on other than the pain in my legs. For now, it was working. Watching her bounce around with endless energy made me feel more energetic as well, and for the next few miles, I got a second wind. Through the red pines and to the next road crossing, I was feeling good again.

The road crossings were much closer together on those last 14 miles, which factored into my strategy for where to start the run and which direction to go. By starting at the Shirks lot and heading counterclockwise, the hardest sections would be out of the way in the first half-ish (Ralph’s, and the section along the Red Moshannon and Six Mile Run before the 26-mile mark), the last 14 miles would be much less climby and less technical, the potentially wettest and boggiest parts would be at the very end, and the aid stops would be more frequent later in the run.

This was a good thing, because the last 10 miles were probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’d gotten a bit of a boost after picking up Moon, seeing friends, and eating pierogi, but after mile 30 hit, I really started to tank. After the Clay Mine crossing, there is a somewhat long climb and then gradual descent back to Six Mile Run Road at Wolf Rocks. My legs were so tired on the descent that I wanted to run faster and take advantage of gravity, but was too concerned about twisting an ankle on the small, loose rocks because I didn’t trust the stability in my legs.

This was probably the first point where I really hit a low, because I’d hoped to take this section faster than what I was able to. I’d expected to be able to at least keep my mile pace around 13 minutes, even tired, because most of this last section was very runnable. But I couldn’t make my legs move any faster. I’d run for a few dozen paces, take a walk break, run a little again, repeat — which amounted to about 15-16 minute miles. At some point, I really let this get into my head. I let Barb ahead again, preferring to struggle by myself without any pressure from behind. I felt embarrassed that I was going so slow and kept apologizing. Though I knew this would be so hard, I envisioned a stronger finish than this. But I pulled it together and reminded myself that it may be slow, but I am doing it and I wasn’t sure that I could.

Though I tried to keep each refuel stop as short as possible, my legs would stiffen up almost instantly and getting started again became more painful each time. In an effort to keep moving, I took high steps in place as I refilled my flask, downed a handful of chips, and grabbed another snack to go.

As we neared the end, I began to realize that the number of miles the mapping apps told me we had left did not line up with the number of miles I knew we must have left. When I plotted the route on Ride With GPS and Strava, both loops came out to be right around 40 miles. Yet other sources say that the Allegheny Front Trail is 42 miles. Two miles may not seem like much, especially when you’re already covering 40, but at the pace I was going, that translated into an extra 30-40 minutes of running.

Shirks Road was the last crossing, and from there, I knew we had about 3.5 miles to go. This is a boggiest section of trail, and after rain for the past couple days, it was extra wet. We danced and dodged around puddles while the dogs splashed straight through. I continued my alternating run/walk, able to run a little more now fueled by the adrenaline of knowing the end was in sight. We were going to make it.

In the end, the full loop had taken us about an hour longer than I had hoped. I had a loose 12-hour goal in mind, and we ended up doing 41.74 miles with 5,817 feet of elevation gain in 12:56. My watch said our moving time was just over 11 hours, but I’m guessing there were times we were moving so slowly on steep, technical uphill sections that it didn’t register as movement, because I don’t think we were stopped for almost 2 hours at the “aid stations.” But maybe. Maybe it does really add up that quickly.

I was just so happy to have finished, especially considering my doubts that morning and all week long when I wasn’t feeling 100%. I’m not sure what was going on, but once I got out on the trail, I felt totally fine, and none of my “sickness” symptoms flared up afterwards. I am convinced that part of it was just nervousness about the run, a psychosomatic reaction to my fear of failure. Regardless, it all worked out, and I’m really glad I forged ahead and went for it that day. After six years of marinating in my brain, I finally set the goal, made a plan, and followed through. I guess I’m an ultrarunner now.

Recovery went a lot smoother and faster than I expected. I was pretty stiff for a couple days, but by the following Tuesday my legs were feeling back to normal, albeit tired. I thought I’d take a full week or more off running but ended up getting back out there for an easy one 5 days later. I did a lot of easy rides to loosen up, which I think aids the recovery process a lot. I would absolutely do the whole AFT again, and I’m interested in checking off some of the other long-distance hiking trails in the state (such as the Chuck Keiper Trail, Bucktail Path, Old Loggers Path, Quehanna Trail). Though events are fun, I like these self-supported (or friend-supported) adventures because I can do them on my own terms, and planning the route and logistics is part of the fun for me. But for now, I don’t have any big goals in mind. I do want to continue running 15-20 miles per week and do at least one half marathon each month, which I think will set me up with a nice base to start from whenever the next big idea strikes.

P.S. Huge thanks to Evan and Brent for being the best crew!