50 Miles with T1D
The Hardest Thing I’ve Ever Done
(and Why I’d Do It Again)
written by Chris Roome
50 miles!?
If you’d told me a few years ago I’d run that distance in one day, I would’ve laughed. Heck, even a marathon once felt like a stretch. But this past month, I completed my first 50-mile ultramarathon—and I did it with Type-1 Diabetes.
Let me tell you: it wasn’t easy. In fact, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But it also changed me. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually. This race taught me things about myself and about type 1 that I couldn’t have learned any other way.
So here’s a quick behind-the-scenes of what went down on race day. This is a sneak peek for the full story I’ll be sharing on an upcoming T1Determined Podcast episode, but if you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to push your limits with T1D—or if you need a reminder that you’re capable of way more than you think— this one’s for you.
The Start: Feeling Strong
I felt amazing for the first 13 miles. I’d trained hard for this. I’d logged long runs. I’d run through fatigue, heat, and darkness. And it paid off— at first.
The sun was out, humidity was high, and the course was relentless—but my energy was dialed in, my mindset was locked, and my supplies were holding up. Until they weren’t.
Mile 13: Chaos Begins
This is where things got interesting. Out of nowhere, my feet started to betray me. I’ve always trained in wide-toe box shoes, and they’ve never given me issues. But for some reason, my pinky toes were smashing into the side. I could feel the nails taking a beating. Every step turned into a reminder that something wasn’t right.
Mile 23: Hamstring Cramp
Out of nowhere, my hamstring locked up. It cramped so hard I thought I might not be able to go on. But I walked it off, slowly, steadily, and it faded. Another small victory. Another crisis managed.
Mile 30: Mother Nature had Other Ideas
Just when I thought things couldn’t get more unpredictable, the sky opened up. I mean monsoon-level rain. Thunder, lightning, wind— everything. The park rangers shut the race down temporarily for safety. We were huddled on the side of a mountain, cold, soaked, and trying not to let hypothermia set in.
Honestly, this was a low point for a lot of runners. But for me, that restart was actually a blessing. Because I’d trained under fatigue, I was able to get moving again with decent momentum once we were allowed to continue.
The only problem? I was soaked to the bone and still had 9 miles to go before I could reach my dry gear and a fresh pair of shoes.
Mile 34: Pump Failure
This was a big one. My insulin pump site ripped out—no warning, just gone. That meant no more basal insulin and no boluses unless I manually injected. Thankfully, I carry backup insulin pens (MDI-style), but still… I was suddenly managing blood sugars old-school in the middle of an ultra.
With no basal in my system, my body started burning through fuel at a ridiculous rate. My blood sugar would spike, then crash. I had zero IOB (insulin on board), and despite eating constantly—way more than I had planned— I just couldn’t keep up. The rest of the race became a game of survival and glucose.
Mile 44: Hitting the Wall
This was the moment where I really had to dig deep. I’d already burned through every physical and emotional reserve I thought I had, but now I had to go further. I loaded up on gels, two bananas, an orange—anything I could get down—but it wasn’t enough.
At mile 47, my body just… stopped responding. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t will myself into action. I was alone, in the woods, in the dark. My headlamp cast weird shadows, my legs refused to cooperate, and my instincts kicked in: walk it out.
I was way ahead of the cutoff, so I knew I had time. I decided to power-walk the last 3 miles and finish safely, rather than risk a crash-and-burn scenario. That decision took a lot of humility— but it was the right one.
The Finish Line: More Than a Medal
Crossing that finish line wasn’t just about the distance. It was about grit. It was about every blood sugar correction, every decision to press forward, every voice in my head that said “you’re done” and me replying, “not yet.”
The highs were high. The lows were really low. And that cycle just kept coming— emotionally, physically, and metabolically. But I did it.
#RockTheRidge2025 didn’t disappoint. The volunteers were incredible. The course was brutal but beautiful. And the experience? Life-changing. I may have left part of my soul on those mountains… but I gained something I’ll carry forever.
Final Thoughts: Why I’m Sharing This
Running 50 miles with type 1 diabetes is not something I take lightly. It took months of prep, relentless planning, and trust in my body— even when it didn’t always cooperate.
But I share this not to brag. I share it because someone out there might be telling themselves that T1D disqualifies them from hard things. That they can’t chase big dreams or take on big adventures.
I’m here to say: you can.
Your journey might look different. You might have setbacks and scares and days where your blood sugar is a total mystery. But you are more capable than you think. You are stronger than you know.
Whatever your “ultra” looks like— go after it. T1D might be along for the ride, but it doesn’t get to take the wheel.
Stay tuned for the full breakdown on the episode, where I’ll dive deeper into the training, nutrition, gear, and mindset that got me through this race.
I hope this helps. Stay strong. Stay determined. T1Determined.
