Mediocre Miles: The Day I Met the Devil’s Den

Last Saturday, I toed the line for my first ultra marathon—the Devil’s Den Ultra, 12-hour division, on Wrights Mountain in Bradford, Vermont. The format was simple but brutal: run a 10K loop as many times as possible within 12 hours. I completed 5 loops—50 kilometers—in 10.5 hours before timing out. No podium. No fireworks. But a masterclass in what it really takes to run long, and a deeper understanding of what goes in to training.

I learned a lot out there—about preparation, problem-solving, and myself. Here are three big lessons I’m carrying forward.

Train for the Course You’re Actually Running

I put in the hours. For months, I ran 8–9 hours per week, stacking three 50+ mile weeks and six total weeks north of 40 miles. On paper, I was ready.

But the mountain had other plans.

What I failed to account for was elevation. Devil’s Den packed 8,200 feet of climbing and descent into those five loops. And while my legs are strong—hello, squat rack—I was not prepared for the cumulative wear of steep, technical terrain. It wasn’t lack of fitness; it was lack of specificity. Lesson learned: miles matter, but terrain is the true teacher.

Bring Two Nutrition Plans—Because One Will Fail

Heading in, I had a solid nutrition plan: a mix of solid foods and liquid calories. But after one loop, reality hit. The course was so technical—roots, rocks, elevation—that eating solid food while moving was nearly impossible.

So I pivoted.

I stripped the vest of solids and loaded my hydration bladder with 400-calorie carb mixes. I went full-liquid on course and saved real food for pit stops at the start/finish. Funny enough, Plan B became the MVP. It wasn’t what I planned—but it was what I needed. In ultras, flexibility is fuel.

It Will Be Hard—And You’ll Be Okay

There’s a lot of chatter about “lows,” DNFs, and breaking points in ultra running. But here’s the truth from my day: I never hit a low.

Not because it wasn’t hard—it was relentlessly hard. But because I trusted my consistency. I knew I could suffer well. When things got tough, I problem-solved. I moved forward. The terrain was harsher than expected, but the experience was exactly what I signed up for: a long, quiet fight. And I never once doubted I’d finish.

What’s Next: Texas at Midnight

As I write this, I’m three weeks out from Round Two—an overnight 50-mile ultra across the prairie fields of Texas. Flat. Open. The opposite of Vermont’s rocky climbs.

I’m not chasing perfection. I’m chasing progress.

I’ll take these lessons with me: train specifically, stay flexible, trust the work. Because Mediocre Miles isn’t about being the best runner—it’s about showing up, learning loudly, and getting just a little better at doing hard things.

See you in Texas.