A few days before I ran the Vermont 100 this year, I was talking with Brian Loose and he mentioned the Vermont 100 is my “Nemesis” race. A nemesis. Hmmm, never thought of it that way. It’s supposed to be an “easy” 100. Realendurance .com even says so. In its Event Difficulty Rating, the Vermont 100 rates 87% as difficult as Western States which rates an even 100%. Hell, I did the Massanutten 100 which rates a 113%. Statistically, I should be flying through the Vermont 100. But this is 100 mile running. Statistics don’t apply and anomalies abound.
This was the third time I have attempted to finish the Vermont 100, hence the “nemesis” tag Brian placed on it. My first attempt at the Vermont 100 and the 100 mile distance was in 2010. I made it to the Seabrook Aid station at about Mile 75 and was having extreme problems with my left foot. Dropping there, I wasn’t able to get healthy until 2012 when I started building my endurance back up and planned qualifying races. My sights were set on running the 100 mile distance in 2013. I signed up for the Vermont 100 before it sold out and before I knew I “won” the Massanutten lottery. So I did what any sane ultrarunner would do. I planned to run both races. After completing Massanutten, I came to Vermont feeling really ready. My overall goal was to just finish, but my stretch goal was to try and buckle. Sub 24 hours. After about 70 miles and falling short of that goal, I wanted to just finish. By this time my feet were taking an awful beating on the hard dirt roads. I thought they had recovered from the beating of the rocks at Massanutten, but I was wrong. They only got worse and I DNFed at the Cowshed Aid Station after about 85 miles. I could barely bear the pain of putting weight on them, my mental fortitude had cracked, and I was freezing. At this rate, two more attempts should get me over the finish line. I made a list of changes I would have to make while the experience was still fresh in my mind. Then the long year to the 2014 Vermont 100 ensued.
We left for Vermont early Friday morning. We had a train to catch. Well, meet. My daughter was taking the Amtrak train down from Burlington, VT where she was interning this summer to help her old man with crewing and pacing duties. It would be her pacing debut. Going light on crew this year, it would just be my wife Gretchen and my daughter Jessica for crew and pacing. We arrived at the Start/Finish at Silver Hill Meadow after a lunch at Harpoon Brewery. There was a definite air of organization and purpose. The reigns, so to speak, had been tightened after they almost lost their permits due to the free for all nature that the race had become in the last few years. Not a bad feel at all, but a feeling of more control. I registered and we went to set up my tent in the camping field. I was going to spend the night at the Start. I wanted to live the experience again and get my mind straight for the task at hand. Part of the deal for me to run again was Gretchen insisted on a hotel. After last year’s both unbelievably scary and cool lightning storm who could blame her. She also didn’t want to drive home after the race and for us to get a good night’s sleep after. Her intelligent side won over my cheapskate side.We then registered our car as a “Crew” vehicle, another change this year. Only marked crew vehicles were allowed at the aid stations. We went to Woodstock to check in at the hotel and then returned to Silver Hill for the race briefing. At this time, I also dropped off my Drop Bags. This was the first time I had used drop bags. This was one of my changes. I stole the idea from Hillary who used them last year in Vermont in conjunction with her crew. If your crew didn’t make the aid station, you still had what you needed and the crew didn’t have to lug around all kinds of stuff. Plus I had no crew toward the end, just pacers, so it was needed then. This was a great idea and it worked out wonderfully. Thanks Hill.
The race briefing was pretty typical. They announced that Amy Rusiecki was going to be the new RD and there was lots of thanks to Julia Hutchinson who was stepping down as the RD. There was an announcement that the Virginia Happy Trail Running Club was here for their yearly 100 miler trip. They are the people who put on the Massanutten 100 and the Bull Run Run amongst other races. They had 35 runners and at least twice that in crew and pacers. A lot of familiar faces. One thing that did strike me at the briefing was other than a handful of people, there weren’t a lot of familiar faces. You might not know their names, but you usually recognized the majority of runners. Not so anymore. I guess the times are a changing.
After the briefing, we had a nice dinner in Woodstock and I was then dropped off to my rustic accommodations and my wife and daughter went to the hotel with plans to meet before the race. I went to my tent, prepped my race kit and then lay down to just relax and listen to the many conversations that made their way through the thin walls of my tent. I set the three alarms on my watch, two on my phone and the one alarm on my battery powered alarm clock for 2:30 AM or some variation of 5 minute intervals. Can you say neurotic?? Not me. Much. I knew there wasn’t going to be the Chariots of Fire theme song booming over the field at 3 AM because of the noise restriction. I kind of missed that also. The sun went down, the camp went quiet and I was off to sleep.
I awoke at 1:30, decided to go out and relieve myself and snuggle back into the warm sleeping bag until 2:30. After getting back into my tent, my mind was already contemplating the day’s events and was too active for any more sleep. I lay in my warm sleeping bag until about 2 AM contemplating the enormity of the undertaking about to begin. It had been a long time coming. It was game time.
Getting myself dressed, there were a few more changes that I had made from last year. I knew with the pounding my feet take, I was going to have to get a highly cushioned shoe. I went the whole Hoka route, but they don’t work for me. I get plantar pain and blisters. It was the same from one of their oldest shoes to one of their newest shoes. It must be the shoe last that their shoes are designed from. I couldn’t go ten miles without problems. They would never last 100 miles. Doing some research I found another highly cushioned shoe, like the Hokas from a small shoe company out of Utah. It is called the Olympus and is made by Altra. The Altra brand is an innovative line in that all of their shoes have a large foot shaped front which allows your foot to splay out naturally and they are zero drop, which means that they are flat like your feet with no height difference from the front to the back. They do have insoles that raise your heel a little, but are much lower than mainstream shoes. I love them and currently own three different models. They are my go to brand now.
Last year I used handheld water bottles in an attempt to keep cooler by not having a pack on. My arms fatigued later in the race and it was difficult to move them in a normal fashion to run. This year I changed to a race vest that was lighter and more breathable than the normal pack I would use in a self supported long run. Arms were free and I could carry just enough essentials and fluid to use the major aid stations and skip the smaller ones.
Another major change was to use Tailwind. Tailwind is a drink mix that combines nutrition, hydration and electrolytes all in one drink. I heard good things about it and I wanted to simplify things. They tout that it’s all you need all day, but I found that if I wasn’t drinking a lot, I would not get enough calories to sustain myself. This also happened because I changed my hydration strategy. I was now drinking to thirst and not at timed intervals. Last year I gained weight and didn’t want that issue again this year. During the hot day because of my thirst, it was fine. When it was cooler or earlier in the run when I was not thirsty yet, I supplemented it with food at aid stations and GUs. I never had a problem with electrolytes since I started using it and have not used any electrolyte supplement since. I really like the stuff.
After getting dressed and readying all of my gear, there was one last thing to take care of before I left my tent and went to the Start line. I needed to take care of business. Part of my long run ritual, being it in training or a race, is to take care of business before I start. Heading over to the Porto-Potties, it was a cool morning. In the low 50s. I put on my one piece of superstition that I do allow myself. I wore my “drug rug”. My blue and white hoodie. Every time I wore it at a 100 miler, being that I was crewing, pacing or running, the 100 was completed. No DNFs. Sandy at the Vermont 100, Brian at Wasatch, Jay at Grindstone, Jerry at Vermont a couple times, me at Massanutten. I didn’t wear it the last two times I ran Vermont. Outcome. DNFs. I was looking for some good juju from it this time though. Business complete, positive juju established, and all preparations complete. I headed for the Start line.
I walked down to the Start Line alone anticipating meeting up with Gretchen and Jessica in the large tent that sits next to the Start Line. There is Dunkin Donuts coffee and bagels for all. I checked in and entered the tent looking for them. They weren’t there yet but walked in shortly thereafter. I ate a half of Poppy Seed bagel and then the announcements started coming, “15 Minutes to Start”.
I love the feeling just before the start of a 100 mile race. It’s hard to describe and I am assuming highly personal for each person. I can describe it as a “high of mixed emotions”. Of course, nervousness. You are just about to start a 100 mile run in the hills of Vermont in July. Hello!!!. A comfort and trust in your training and preparation. A getting your mind into perspective about the run. Brian once told me, “You are going to be out there more than a day, just realize that”. In its simplest terms that sums it up. Realize that the day will bring ups and downs, loneliness and social interaction, selfishness and charity, periods of happiness and periods of gloom, discomfort and even pain. It’s a calm feeling realizing that you have only one worry in your life for the next twenty some odd hours. Getting across the finish line.
“10 Minutes to Start”
Another change I made this year was the decision to run without a watch. I wanted to run by feel and didn’t need it for hydration. Move quicker when I felt good and slow when I needed to. I was trying to counter my A-type personality with a more Zen-like approach. My only goal was to finish. I can’t lie. That 24 hour buckle was on my mind and knowing that it was beyond my means to accomplish, I still didn’t want to be tempted to push too hard. Unlike Karl Metzler who says “100 Miles is not that far”, well, he’s Karl Metzler, anyways, 100 miles is that far and anything can happen.
“5 minutes to Start”
Not having my watch, I was glad for the countdown to Start announcements. I had Gretchen check my teeth for any stray poppy seeds, kissed my ladies and headed over to the start line. Outside of the tent is the start line and the gathering of some 300 plus ultrarunners. I took a spot in the middle to rear of the pack. Conversations abounded with all of the adrenaline and anticipation and I only realized the race was started by the pack moving forward and the sounds of cheers. We moved downhill on a dirt road off of Silver Hill into the cool morning. The morning was unseasonably cool, in the low 50’s, and the forecast was for overcast skies all day. Having felt the brunt of the summer sun twice before, this forecast put a smile on my face.
The early part of the race is on those damn hard dirt roads and mostly jeep trails. The constant rolling hills that the Vermont 100 is famous for also start right away. I was feeling chilly, not used to having run in such cool weather in a long time, but I knew I would warm up and I absolutely knew that the day was going to get warmer. You could see the moisture in the air, so even though it was to be a cooler day, you knew that the humidity was going to be there. Getting into my groove, I occupied that early time with people watching and conversation eavesdropping. Listening to others converse passes the early time away before you are running alone and all into your own head. Even if I wasn’t aware of the time, I was aware of all the early miles ticking off because of all the “bleep, bleep, ring, bleep, etc.” all going off around me. It made me smile every time it happened. I was blissfully enjoying being unbridled with technology, but laughing because I couldn’t totally escape it.
The light of day started making its way into the woods and lights were put away. I knew that with the rising of the sun, the 100 mile horses would be coming soon. As on cue, on a long section of road that is lined by a fence, large old trees and opens to a broad downhill meadow, the sun peeked over the horizon, and with that the sound of the hooves of the first horses were heard. These beautiful, majestic and to some, Jay you know who you are, terrifying creatures joined me for a moment on my adventure. Topping those horses are wonderful people who are very courteous and always have kind words urging the runners on. Being with the horses is like being in a history reenactment. The 100 mile runs got their start during a 100 mile horse endurance ride. Sadly, the Vermont 100 is the only 100 mile run that is still run concurrently with a 100 mile horse endurance ride.
As the first horses passed, I thought to myself that I think they passed me about a mile further up last year. Not even thinking that the horses could be faster, I surmised that I was running a little slower than last year, which was good. I had a lot of race ahead of me. So when I came into the first manned aid station at Pretty House at 21.1 miles, I was shocked to hear Gretchen say that I was doing great. I was a half hour ahead of last year’s split. Ahead.?!? I was running faster than last year, not slower. Wow!!. I realized that I guess this was a good pace for me. I was feeling fine and not pushing too hard. To keep the relaxed atmosphere going, we had decided to take a crew/runner selfie at each manned aid station. We took our first selfie after I had resupplied and was leaving the aid station. The drop bag system worked great with Gretchen and Jessica arriving and grabbing my drop bag and setting up my stop each time. Definitely a great idea. Pressure off crew and runner. It especially seemed appropriate today because with the cool weather, runners were clocking faster times and there were many missed runners by their crews I was told.
The next manned aid station is Stage Road. About 9 miles away. In this section is the “Sound of Music” hill. The highest point on the course. It is a beautiful spot along the course to take a breather being it is a wide open meadow with great views. Coming off the “Sound of Music” hill starts a long downhill towards Stage Road. Along this stretch I made a stupid mistake that I rarely do. I went off course. Coming off the meadows of Sound of Music you get to a dirt road. Following the downhill in this road with a runner ahead of me I was in my mind a little too much and went right by the turn off into single track. I made the classic mistake of trying to keep up with/catch this runner and lost track of the course markings. We went out of our way about a quarter of a mile when he turned and said” I think we are off course.” Snapping out of my trance, I realized we had just come upon a farmhouse I didn’t recognize and I immediately looked down. I was looking for hoof prints, which would either confirm our error or give us a reprieve. There were none. We were definitely off course. I said to him”We are off course. I don’t recognize this and there are no hoof prints” He gave me a strange look obviously not aware that I was familiar with the course and not understanding that if the horses didn’t’ come this way, we were in the wrong. He said he was going to keep going to check for markings. Whatever. I tried to help. I immediately turned around and ran back in a panic not knowing how far off course I was and hoping to back track properly since there were a few intersections and forks encountered along the way. After about a quarter mile I rounded a bend and saw a horse taking a turn into the woods. On either side of the road were the back sides of three plates marking the turn. “How the hell did I miss that?”I said to myself. Now I was mad at myself and started running hard. All the time thinking that the 5 minutes I wasted were going to come back and haunt me. After a couple of hundred yards, I calmed down and got myself back together. I didn’t want to make another stupid mistake and blow all my energy. I got back into my groove and coasted downhill into Stage Road.
The Stage Road aid station went by without a hitch. My wonderful crew was ready for me; I resupplied, took our selfie and headed out. I was feeling good at this point. It would be mid afternoon when I saw them next. Next manned aid was at Camp 10 Bear about 17 miles away. The sun burned off the morning haze and was shining away. Big surprise, the forecast was wrong. For runners at my pace, this section is usually the hottest of the day. The temperature was cooler than normal, but with the sun out now and the Vermont humidity, it was still going to be an uncomfortable time.
At about mile 39 you cross Route 4 and cross over the Lincoln covered Bridge where there is a manned aid station. The heat of the day was taking its toll on some of the runners with a couple sitting in chairs with ice on their necks or other means of trying to cool down. A couple more runners around me were having low times. It wasn’t a place to hang at. After this aid station is a long uphill that goes for about 2.5 miles. It has a few less steep runnable sections in it. About half way up this section, I noticed the top of my right foot was starting to hurt. It was a pain like when you tie your shoes too tight. I checked my shoe and thought it was loose enough, but I still retied it looser anyway. The pain didn’t subside and got more uncomfortable. Camp 10 Bear and a different set of shoes were about 8 miles away. I was just going to have to deal with it till then. Continuing uphill I was still surrounded by a wave of runners in a low funk. It was kind of weird for so many people to be complaining at the same time, and it was catchy. Of course my mind starting going all over the race and thinking way too far ahead. Could I stand this kind of pain for the rest of the day? Would it get worse? What else is going to happen? Etc., Etc.. I finally realized my mind was wandering again, and in a bad direction, so I did what I did in training and prep races. I fed the beast. I had a GU to get me out of this funk. Gretchen and I ran a lot together this year and then we ran the Bear Mountain 50K together. We became very good at knowing when one or the other was having a low time. We learned that if we just had a GU it would be enough to bounce us back to reality (And being a nicer person). So before the race, she reminded me to not be shy about taking GUs.
I was out of my funk, but on the long downhill to Lillian’s Aid Station at 43 miles, my foot was still hurting and now my quads were starting to hurt. I said to myself “Really!!!, Already??!?, What the F*** !!!” I figured I was going to get a few more miles of respite. So I cruised the 5 miles from Lillian’s to Camp 10 Bear exposed to the mid afternoon sun, with my quads letting me know they were there and not happy about all this running stuff, and my right foot still in pain. I had no doubt in my mind I was going on and going to finish, but I was having a more difficult time keeping light hearted. I was not having fun.
Coming into the Camp 10 Bear aid station you need to get weighed before you can do anything else. They want to check if you are dehydrated or have gained weight. They will hold you or even DQ you if you have gained or lost too much weight. I got on the scale and I was the same as my weigh in weight. I was good with that, but I figured I would have lost some weight with my new drinking to thirst hydration strategy. I guess I was just thirsty enough.
My crew was all set up and ready for me. They told me I was now over an hour ahead of last year’s time. Wow. I told them about my foot and had them grab my spare pair of shoes. My spare shoes were the Altra Lone Peak 1.5. I wanted to first see if the laces were tied different. I didn’t want to have the same pressure points on the top of my foot. They were different enough, so I decided to change them. It was time for a sock change anyway, so I looked at my foot and so no obvious problem, cleaned my feet, relubed them, put on fresh socks and put on my Lone Peaks. Gretchen and Jessica took care of my pack, refilling and resupplying it while I changed my socks and shoes. All set, I got up and started walking up the hill out of Camp 10 Bear. The Lone Peaks have about half of the cushioning as the Olympus’s, and I could really feel the difference. Worried about beating my feet to a pulp, I sent Gretchen back to get my other shoes, but while she was going back I realized the top of my foot was not hurting, and now I was torn. Voicing my thought process and I’m sure with a stupid look on my face, Jessica said “Which hurts less?” Forcing a decision and having just come off of miles with the top of my foot hurting, I decided to take the chance and run with the Lone Peaks. I would have to be more ginger in my running, but for now, the pain in the top of my foot was gone, and anyways, I could change back in about 12 miles at the Seven Sees aid station. Wise words from my veteran crew member.
The roads were noticeably harder, but with much decreased discomfort on the top of my foot I went on. This 23 mile loop back to Camp 10 Bear, I feel is always a grind. It’s still hot, you still haven’t hit the halfway point, and shortly after leaving 10 Bear you hit one of the highest, steepest climbs of the race. It’s not nicknamed “Agony Hill” for nothing. After that you have some runnable roads but then you come across a long section of road that is not maintained well and is very technical with lots of rocks. That technical section comes out to Birmingham’s Aid Station. This aid station was being run by G.A.C., Gill’s Athletic Club, from Massachusetts. A nice change this year was that several aid stations were being “hosted” by running groups. It’s always better when an aid station is run by people who know what you are going through. Not to say that other aid stations were not run very well, but when you are really in need of some help, somebody who understands your needs at that time, whatever they may be, can be the difference in a race. They also don’t let you DNF so easily. After Birmingham’s is a long downhill for a couple of miles to Tracer Brook. Tracer Brook used to be a manned station, but they moved it a few miles further on. It is unmanned now. You take pretty much a U-Turn at Tracer Brook and it is basically the half way point back to 10 Bear. Immediately from Tracer Brook to the manned/crew aid station at Seven Sees is the second of the longest, highest climbs of the race. 1.75 miles of climb.
At Seven Sees, my crew was patiently awaiting my arrival. I decided to switch back to my Olympuses . The top of my foot wasn’t hurting, but my soles were taking a pounding. I needed the added cushioning if I was going to finish this thing. Leaving Seven Sees, I bid “Adieu” to my crew for the 11 mile trip back to 10 Bear where Jessica was going to make her pacing debut. They no longer would be using the car and would be depending on the Pacer Shuttle to get them to Camp 10 Bear and then Gretchen at Spirit of 76 where she would pace me to the finish. The course still went uphill for a short distance, and then we had a nice downhill to Margarittaville. Of course I stopped and had a piece of a Cheeseburger in Paradise. These people are always having a good time. The course trends up to the Brown School House aid station and then there is a nice LONG downhill to Camp 10 Bear. I got to Brown School House with the sun starting to go down, but with plenty of sunlight still. There is 5 miles between Brown School House and Camp 10 Bear. Last year I hit complete darkness about 2 miles out. Being buoyed by the early hour of my arrival and the downhill double track to dirt roads, I decided to run hard in this section and try to eat up as much mileage as I could in the light because I knew that once it got dark it would be slower going. I banged downhill chasing the dark and reached the connecting road, about a half mile out, to Camp 10 Bear before I had to turn on my lights. In this section on my way into 10 Bear I noticed some discomfort in the back of my right knee and very top of my calf. I really didn’t think anything of it. Just another pain that would go away. I was going to take it easy in the next section and walk a lot of it. I was feeling good and felt I could finish in 25 -26 hours. We were in the home stretch, only 30 miles to go and I was pumped up at my progress.
Now dark at Camp 10 Bear I had to get weighed again. Again I was my weigh in weight. I guess I was at least maintaining a balance. I changed my shirt putting on a dry one with the expectation that it was going to get cooler. I also took with me a light jacket. It wasn’t needed yet, but last year I didn’t take another layer and I was freezing and it was partly to blame for my DNF. I didn’t follow my game plan last year and it bit me. I should have known better. While crewing for Brian at Wasatch he made it clear that he needed his warm clothing at a certain aid station because it got really cold in the mountains and make sure he had it. Heading to the next aid station to meet him and Jay, I can attest it got REAL cold before dawn broke.
Heading out of 10 Bear with my daughter Jessica pacing me, we hit a large climb right away. We then hit a couple of runnable sections, but my leg was feeling worse. I ran a little, but it was getting uncomfortable, but not really crazy painful. We hit a long section of single track and I decided just to walk it. It was dark, I was stumbling a lot, and I didn’t want to risk a race ending fall. We moved along for the 7 miles to the Spirit of 76 aid station at a pretty good clip. We were enjoying the company and experience together. It is nice to show somebody a little bit of the course and show them what you have been dealing with all day. We crossed a couple of open meadows and just stopped, turned off our lights and looked at the star filled night sky. It was great to spend the time with her. We could hear the Spirit of 76 Aid Station before we could see it. It is all lit up with Christmas lights and you get the feel of a happy place. The volunteers reinforce that feeling.
We checked in at the aid station and we were not greeted by Gretchen. We were a little worried. After a short search by Jessica, we found her sleeping in a blanket. She woke up and was ready to go. She would pace me the last 23 plus miles to the finish. I was getting hungry, so I had both soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. I resupplied from my drop bag with the help of my crew and I was ready to head out. Jessica would go to the finish line and sleep in my tent for a while until she would meet us at the finish line.
Heading out of ’76 with Gretchen as my pacer, there is some trail, and then more or less 12 miles of dirt road. My leg was now starting to get more painful and the pain actually moved over a larger area of my calf. I was still looking forward to those road sections because I thought we could make up some time. I felt good enough to get a decent pace going except for my leg. I was hoping it would be okay on the roads. We came out of the trails onto the road. I said to myself, okay, time to toughen up and get a running pace going. I started to try and run, but every time I threw my leg forward I would get a sharp pain shooting down into my whole calf. Doing this for about a mile, I just couldn’t stand the pain. Even stopped, there was now constant shooting pain in the whole top of my right calf. Something was wrong. I wasn’t sure if it was a strain, tear or what, but this was not good. I tried to tape it with KT tape, but I was so sweaty and dirty, that even when I tried to clean and dry the area, it wouldn’t stick. After wasting at least 20 minutes, I finally got one strip to stay. I quickly took out my blister tape, Leukotape, which sticks to everything, and was able to make one ring around the KT tape and my leg. It didn’t really relieve the pain, but it at least felt like my calf wasn’t going to tear away from behind my knee. I was really pissed off. I felt great, well, as great as you can feel that far into a 100 mile run, but again, something with my body went wrong. With Gretchen’s help, I finally calmed down and came to grip that I was in for a 21 mile suffer fest. We weren’t quitting. My only enemy now was the clock. I had built up a pretty good buffer, so I wasn’t too worried to walk to the finish. I just wasn’t looking forward to that walk and was in a kind of, shall we say, sour mood. That was the plan, that is, if nothing else went wrong.
Bill’s Aid Station at 88 miles was our next goal. We went up and down the dirt roads of Vermont at a decent clip. Gretchen was setting a good pace and I was just concentrating on keeping up with her. Not being able to straighten my leg, I was doing some weird gait/limp thing and, of course, now other parts of that leg are starting to hurt because it is such an abnormal gait. The ball of my foot was hurting, I’m sure from the prior pounding of the roads, the whole outside edge of my foot was screaming now also. I was doing my best to keep my cool in the cool evening air. I was sweating with the effort and just totally concentrating on moving forward. We came to a large hill that leads up to Bill’s. It was with great effort I was getting up the hill and was looking forward to sitting for a minute at Bill’s. I needed a break. We crested the hill and Gretchen said we are almost there, well we weren’t. There were lots of houses that were lit up at this time of the morning and she kept mistaking them for Bill’s. Needless to say, my anger and frustration peaked just before we did turn into the driveway to Bill’s and, needless to say, I did turn a wee bit ugly. I grumbled all the way down the long driveway to Bill’s. We had made it in plenty of time, but I was just still looking to the 12 more long miles of suffering. My head was not straight at this time. I was weighed in at Bill’s and I was up a pound. No reason for alarm, and then sat and had more grilled cheese and soup while Gretchen took care of my pack. My attitude adjusted and my energy renewed, we headed out into the dark from Bill’s.
Again, we had plenty of time and Gretchen was setting a blistering pace for me to keep up with. Sadist. No mercy. I just had to try and chase her. My calf was pretty much status quo. Pain was pretty much staying in the top half. The sun started coming up about a mile out of Keating’s aid station at about mile 92. My glute and hamstrings were starting to spasm with the effort. Only eight more miles. I had to hold it together. Our next check point was Polly’s Aid Station. It was 4.8 miles from the finish, had my drop bag, and was the last manned aid station. It was light now and I could at least see all the shit I was tripping over. With the slow pace I started thinking about Jessica at the finish line and she would be worried about us that we weren’t there when I told her I thought we would be. I voiced my concern to Gretchen, and she allayed my concerns by saying” I told your daughter not to expect us when Daddy told you, he’s hurting.” “ So don’t worry about her, just keep moving.”
We pulled into Polly’s. I just wanted some water. We weren’t staying long. Gretchen got my drop bag; we took a couple of items, and gave it back to them. The aid station volunteer said, “Its 4.8 miles to the finish”. I looked at Gretchen and said” How much time do we have?” She said, “Three and a half hours.” I looked at her and said “Are we going to make it?” See, this is another reason I didn’t wear a watch. I get Ultra Math Stupidity. Happened last year and again I am sure it contributed to my DNF. I can’t seem to do basic pace distance calculations in the later stages of a 100 miler. Nope, nothing there, not working. Another reason to have a good pacer.
She said, “We better be able to do less than the Branford Road Race in three and a half hours”. Putting my trust in my wife, she continued her sadistic ways and ran off with me having nothing to do but chase her down. There was a relief after Polly’s. We knew we were going to finish in time. My mind was at ease, but I still had five more painful miles to go and needed to stay in the game. To add just another insult, it started to rain. This too, not in the forcast.
As we approached the finish line, more and more people seemed to catch us and pass us. Well, except for that poor bastard we passed who was sitting beside the trail in a meadow about a mile and a half from the finish with his passer trying to get him moving. (He did finish). I used to get mad when people would pass me, and especially so close to the finish, but I have come to realize that along this long journey of 100 miles we all had our ups and downs, good times and bad, so if they can still move at that pace to finish more power to them. My particular set of circumstances and decisions put me right where I was at that time. I was going to finish with time to spare. In my current state that was a victory. One couple that passed within the last mile I had come across on the downhill into Camp 10 Bear the second time. They were walking and looked to be in a low. They inquired how far it was to Camp 10 Bear. They looked like they wanted to DNF there. I told them an approximation and gave them some kind words. I like to think that maybe I had a little part in them finishing. It made me smile to see them pass.
We finally came around a bend in the trail in the woods and saw the finish line. We could only walk in, so the length of the applause was kind of awkward. Jessica popped out from behind some people and took our picture crossing the finish line. 28 hours, 17 minutes and 48 seconds. Not what I hoped for, but a finish is a finish. I just wanted to go to the hotel, shower and sleep, but Gretchen said I needed to eat something. I went over to the food tent to sit down and grab something to eat. The cook was overwhelmed, but Jessica was able to get me a burger with onions and peppers on it. I also treated myself to a Coke.
A couple days later with my upper calf bright red and hot, swollen and starting to discolor, I went to the doctor to confirm my suspicion and see about getting me better. As I suspected, it was a partial tear of the upper gastocnemius, the calf muscle. A few weeks of not stressing it but keeping it moving to prevent scar tissue from forming was prescribed.
With my nemesis gone, I feel an empty feeling. This goal to finish the Vermont 100 and all of the training and effort associated with it consumed a lot of my life for a few years. But with that being said, I realized the enormity of the time and effort near the end of my training. I have neglected other things in my life, not my family, but my house and other interests in my life, but most of all, it wasn’t fun anymore. I decided on that long run I would not go the 100 mile distance for a while, if ever again. During the race, I confirmed to myself that I wasn’t having fun. Not because of all the things that happened, they are part of the allure of ultrarunning, but the desire was not there.
So while we see if the 100 mile distance asserts its pull on me again, I am still available for crewing, pacing, weddings and Bar mitzvahs, if anybody is interested in having me. Thanks for taking the time to come with me on my adventure.
