The Stick Lady, my part in her downfall

The Stick Lady’s adventure started long before the Vermont 100 race started. I think it began on a dark winters night back in January when she was convinced that entering her first 100 mile ultra would be a good idea. In fact it was such a good idea that I would sign up with her. I even promised to run with her during the race – providing she could keep up! 😉 The goading wasn’t born out of arrogance, it was part of the competitive sparring that frequently takes place at Bimble Hall and continued through the spring as we trained for the race.

The winter didn’t help too much to allow the banking of high mileage runs through the woods. To compensate we frequently ran roads and even after the snows cleared stayed on the pavement for the majority of the time. Route 80 to Killingworth and back became our version of route 146. Occasionally we ‘spiced’ up the run with a loop around Hammonasset Reservoir on the way out and back. The staff at the Country Store in Killingworth seemed to be on first name terms with Guthrie who had formed a routine of getting an ice cream sandwich to go with a water bottle refill. But as the months passed we both fell victim to niggling injuries, Guthrie still had issues lingering from the past few years, while an old Achilles injury resurfaced in my left heel. We soldiered on, sometimes the runs were miserable journeys of discomfort while others were fluent and relaxed. 

As race day grew closer Guthrie’s virginity at 100 mile races revealed itself more and more. Each day she would ask questions about the course, how you feel at various sections, strategies for hydration or the pace she should try and maintain. Each question was a nugget of opportunity for fun and a little bit of stick, but after each joke the serious business of race preparation continued. Two days before leaving for Vermont her bags were packed, repacked and then packed again. One day before the leaving for the race her bags were repacked, packed again and then repacked for good measure! On Friday morning as we prepared to leave you could barely see the carpet of our bedroom because of Guthrie’s bags and their contents as they were packed once more! 

At last we were on our way, sharing the ride with Ultra, who had offered us bunks in his folding camper. This was going to be a treat, in previous years we have camped and getting in and out of a small tent after running a hundred miles might be entertaining to those watching but it’s no joke to experience We arrived at the tented village of the VT100 with horse boxes and tents nestling in a leafy green valley. Guthrie and I checked in while Ultra organized our home away from home. We caught up with old friends, many we only see at hundred mile races. Despite the flood of ultra distance events these days, the VT100 still has an intimate atmosphere. After the obligatory pre-race briefing and dinner we headed back to the camper to meet up with our respective crews. 

Race day morning began at 2 am, a couple of hours later I stood at the start with Guthrie. She asked me if I had my timing chip. It was a joke Ultra and I played on her the previous evening. At the time she momentarily panicked just like the runner stood next to her at the start! The laughter relaxed nerves and with that we were off into the dark. 

For the next nineteen hours my world was a simple cycle of moving, eating and drinking. At each crew aid station the trusty Carlson family saw to my every need, I try to make my needs simple and my time at the station brief, but their support was faultless. As the day passed, news of Guthrie’s, aka the Stick Lady, progress filtered through. I made good time, lost about 30 minutes after a wrong turn and then worked hard to catch up. I ran with horses, the occasional runner and admired the view from time to time. The sun rose, the day got hotter. Ice became a sort-after commodity as well as juicy slices of water melon. In addition, my crew provided pre-arranged sandwiches of peanut butter and cheese. The mix may sound odd but the alternative from constant sweet stuff was good. Well before sunset I had reached Bill’s Aid Station and had just 12 miles to go.

Mentally, it felt almost done but those last miles had their challenges until the chem lite water jugs marked the last final yards to the finish line. To greet me was my entire crew, Ultra, Iggy, Allstate and possibly one or two more, but I needed to sit for the first time since rolling out of bed before the dawn. That crappy plastic chair was absolute luxury!