Into the Fire: My First 50K Ultramarathon

I did it. I ran my first ultramarathon.

50 kilometers. 31 miles. In brutal, scorching heat. And somehow, I crossed that finish line.

When I signed up for this race, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, that was the whole point. I wanted to do something bigger than I’d ever done before—something that seemed impossible. Most people go there entire lives never running a marathon. And I ran even further.

The morning of the race, I was buzzing with excitement but also weighed down with nerves. What if I didn’t finish? What if my body gave out? What if I had to walk away from this goal? Those thoughts followed me all the way to the starting line. But so did another thought: I trained for this. I am ready.

And then the gun went off, and there was no turning back. One thing is certain, we are in this now.

The heat hit me like a wall. The sun was relentless, soaring quickly to 100 degrees. Staying hydrated became my all-day battle. No matter how much I drank, I was always behind—always chasing hydration, and always losing ground.

But here’s the thing: I expected the suffering. I knew the pain was coming—I signed up for it. I knew there would be a moment when everything in me screamed to quit. And when it came, I reminded myself: This is it. This is the wall. This is why I’m here. To find out if I would push past it. To see what’s on the other side of the struggle.

So that’s what I did. One step at a time. One mile at a time. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, no matter what. And before long each mile began to tick away with repeated rhythmic pounding of my shoes into the pavement, matched only by my rising heartbeat and stubborn will.

My knees began to scream. Honestly, it’d be easier to list what didn’t hurt — and that list would be empty. However, my Achilles (which I’d been nursing for weeks) surprised me by staying mostly quiet, almost like it knew I had enough problems to deal with. My body wanted to stop, but my heart didn’t. My heart told me to keep going.

And that’s exactly what carried me to the finish line: heart, discipline, and the stubborn belief that I wasn’t leaving this race without finishing it.

Crossing that line wasn’t just about covering the miles—it was about proving to myself that I can set impossible goals and smash through them. It was about discipline, dedication, and sheer determination.

Yes, it was hot. Yes, it hurt. Yes, my body is sore to the max. But I wouldn’t trade a second of it. Because now I can say it: I am an ultramarathoner. We got it done!

Andrew Frizzell | Iron Will Weight Loss