I live in what can only be described as an adult fraternity house. Our South Brooklyn apartment consists of three dudes, two gals, 14 bikes, 67 pairs of running shoes, and a cat named Miss Cleocatra; think “Friends” meets cockroaches and endurance sports.

We are a quirky bunch that sways to an undercurrent of competition and thrives off of extremes: How many ice cream cones can you down in 10 minutes? Who can do the most push-ups on the subway before reaching Manhattan? How many days can we camp on our roof until the landlord notices?

Our history of one-upmanship took a drastic turn when, one year ago, three of us found ourselves in the living room waiting for the clock to strike noon when registration for the Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run would open. To honor the anniversary of that fateful choice, here are 15 pieces of semi-wisdom from my first 100-mile race.

1. Ultra registration slots are limited.

Race selection is only half the battle. Newbies are drawn to well-supported courses with reasonable elevation changes and a gracious support staff. Umstead is a looped 12.5-mile course that's completed eight times and touts itself as “great for first timers and breaking 24 hours.” Typically 1,000 runners or more vie for just 250 coveted slots, turning online registration into a virtual battle royale.

2. Seasonal Training Disorder is real.

“A spring race will be pleasant,” they said. “The weather will be mild,” they said. By “they” I mean me, and by “pleasant” I mean training took place over the entirety of a New York City winter. Double-digit runs done at 5 a.m. in sub-freezing temperatures with brutal wind chills are far from my idea of fun. Over time, my willpower began to diminish, so I deployed the drag-a-friend-out-of-bed trick. When I was scheduled to meet someone at the crack of dawn, I felt a sense of obligation to stop hitting the snooze button.

3. For training runs, time is more important than speed or distance.

Turn off the GPS watch. As a first-timer, training runs should be measured in hours on your feet, not distance or speed. Day-long adventure runs injected a dose of fun into the sluggish miles.

4. Have a race day plan and a "non"-plan.

I spent countless nights lying in bed strategizing. Should I try to hit 10 hours for my first 50 miles? Are two shoe changes enough? Would it be easier if the three of us ran together? But I discovered that the most important strategy is this: At the starting line, prepare to ditch any plan you had devised. Pack a race bag and drop bag with multiple layers of clothes, headlamps, bandages, gels, food, and pain relievers so that you can access whatever you need on the course. Your body will go through a world of extremes, so the best plan is to go with what feels right moment to moment.

5. Talk to others on the course.

Whether it’s a roommate or a total stranger, the power of pines trees and distance running fosters openness. It’s raw and beautiful and by far my favorite part of the ultra experience. At mile 22, a woman shared that she was running to try and make sense of her sister’s suicide. At mile 43, a man admitted that this was his fourth attempt at finishing a 100-miler. At mile 88, my brother paced me and recounted the fantasy land we created when we were kids. Those moments are precious and rare, mixed with a hint of magic.

6. Oh, you have a time goal? That’s hilarious.

I heard a saying on the course: “A 50-miler is twice as hard as a marathon. A 100-miler is four times as hard as a 50.” No truer words have ever been spoken. I came into this race secretly gunning for a sub-24 hour finish and not-so-secretly hoping to annihilate my roommates. As a result, I blasted through the aid stations grabbing minimal amounts of food. I clocked in at the halfway point in 10 hours and 33 minutes. I felt great and my confidence was high. Why stop and waste time to fuel if I felt so strong? At mile 73, I realized my mistake. But it was too late…

7. Nutrition is a sport, too.

...but really. My downfall was nutrition. I watched hours tick by as miles dragged on. I didn’t fuel early or often enough, and as a result, my stomach was in knots and couldn’t keep anything solid down. I was running below empty, and every step became excruciating. At one point I was clocking a 35-minute mile, and my pacer forced me to stop and drink half a cup of chicken broth. My next mile I ran in 15 minutes. It’s amazing what even the tiniest bit of fuel can do for a completely depleted body.

8. The night will make or break you.

When the sun goes down, it’s not just the night sky that gets dark. The lack of fuel and loss of light sent my body temperature into a downward spiral. At the aid station, I wrapped myself in multiple layers of discarded clothes before I returned to the trail. My mind started to waver, and I saw figures of other runners who weren’t really there. I had to start taking three-minute breaks to sit down on the side of the trail and pull myself together. The two things that saved me were aiming my headlamp directly at the ground to avoid the disorienting shadows of the trees and the presence of an encouraging pacer.

9. Pacers are electrolytes for the soul.

We were fortunate enough to have five incredible pacers travel to support us on this ridiculous adventure. Two members of the NYC branch of The Most Informal Running Club Ever, our roommate, my little brother, and our resident ultra were a dream team. Without their help, we wouldn’t have finished.

10. Unspeakably gross moments are imminent.

I had just hit mile 93. It was around 8 a.m. and hikers were starting to pass by us on the trail. I was now into hour 26 of the race and desperately needed to go to the bathroom. My brother pointed to a tree about ten steps off the trail. Ten precious steps. I couldn’t make it. I would like to take this opportunity to formally apologize to the lovely couple who were trying to enjoy a leisurely Sunday stroll. I’m sorry for what you saw.

11. Use the course support.

Umstead’s course support is incredible. Every year, the two main aid stations fight each other to be crowned number one. From popping blisters to suggesting what food best pairs with salt tablets, these folks are willing and eager to help. Verbalize your needs. When we finished, volunteers welcomed us into what was aptly described as a “World War II-style infirmary” filled with blanketed cots, a fire, and endless amounts of chicken noodle soup.

12. You will think about nothing.

The most frequently asked question I’ve had to answer--besides “Are you crazy?”--is, “What did you think about for all that time?” I would love to say I finally figured out what I wanted to do with my life or that I found God in the North Carolina woods. But the truth is, I didn’t think about anything. After a certain point, all of my energy was focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

13. That finisher’s belt buckle is now a family heirloom.

Approximately 40-percent of the field did not finish the 2014 Umstead 100. It is statistically improbable that all three of us finished under the 30-hour cutoff. My future grandson will wear that belt buckle at his first birthday party, when he crosses the stage at his high school graduation, and strapped to his waist when he says “I do.” Yes, I know that’s irrational. No, I don’t care.

14. The Best Worst Decision

To my roommates: This will stand as my best worst decision ever, and I couldn’t think of two better people to share it with.

15. I vowed by the almighty power of Zeus to never do it again….

…16. But a part of me knows I probably will. 

For more photos and videos from Beachy's experience, check out her Instagram feed

***Registration for next year's Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run (March 28-29, 2015) opens September 6, 2014 at noon EDT. Go here for more information.