This year I have made it a point to be more focused on my training process. I had fallen into the trap of simply running and training by feel, with no real focus and as a result I have gotten slower and lost fitness. I stepped up my game this year and switched from the rad "Believe" journal put out by badass runners Lauren Fleshman and Roisin McGettigan-Dumas and took on the "Compete" journal for this year.
Hydration, Inspiration&Accountability, Caffeine&cactus...what more could I need?
I've been training for the Vermont 100 and shifting into my more nomadic life of the spring and summer. It involves living out of bags and bins and milk crates and Ernie (my new ride to replace Chuck the Caddy truck) and sublets and tents and couches and such. I searched for a race that I could run around the end of April/beginning of May in order to check-in with my training. I wanted to assess what is working, what needs more work, and really sharpen my focus for the last couple months leading up to the 2017 Vermont 100. In my search I found the Jack Bristol Lake Waramaug Ultras, a road race that loops around the lake of its namesake. Its an historic race, one of - if not the- oldest/longest running ultras in the U.S. This year was its 43rd iteration and I was looking forward to running the 100K version. They also offered 50K and a 50mile distance options.
About a month ago, if you had asked me how my training was going, I would have excitedly laid it all out for you. I would have talked about how I'm still moving slower than I would like, how I still am carrying more bodyweight than I would like, but then I would geek out about how I am starting to see speed improvements, and possibly even getting a bit leaner, though its hard to tell. I was a bit all over the place, as was my schedule and my actual geographic location, but I was feeling solid and putting in the speed work. Keeping track of details and trying to do more than just putting in the miles. This was a renewed focus. One I don't feel that I've had for a few years now. I do believe that part of what has ushered in this focus and determination is having finally shed the burden of living what felt to be an inauthentic life and truly starting to feel at home in my own skin. Its been extraordinary. But, I set you up, yeah? Because I said "a month ago if..." and not "a week ago." A week ago, well now it would be two weeks, as I'm only just getting to writing this a week after the race... A week before my race I was limping around. I was spending more time on my foam roller than I was on the trails or the road. Walking was painful. Sitting was uncomfortable. Running was...mediocre at best, but better once I got moving. I had taken a gnarly fall a while back, and while things had seemed more or less okay, the stress of moving and life and everything that encompasses decided that my right leg would be a really great home to set up shop. The tightness was unreal. Honestly, I was worried that I was going to have to scrap the whole race completely. Instead, I decided that since it was a loop course that I would show up, I would start the race, and if at any point I felt like I was doing more damage, I would bow out. Because honestly, once I get moving it feels somewhat better, its sitting and driving and things like that which seemed to really aggravate it. But this race was not my focus point, my focus is the Vermont 100, and I didn't want to do anything that would further jeopardize my training for my goal race.
Lake Waramaug sunrise race morning
Race morning, it was beautiful. The sunrise coming up over the lake was lovely and the weather was just right. I had slept well the night before parked on a side street of New Preston, CT in Ernie. Living the vagabond vehicle life. I stretched things out and ate some cereal, as I hadn't packed my camp stove this time so oatmeal was out of the question. I checked in, got my number and stretched some more. I was definitely still feeling tight, but not in as much pain as I had been earlier in the week. I was optimistic, having driven the course the previous day, and approached the start hoping to be able to complete the intended 100K before the day was out. The pre-race briefing was short and no-nonsense. The question was asked "Are there any questions?" After a short pause Rob, the race director said "Alright, 5, 4, 3..." folks realized the start was about to happen and milled closer to the start line. "2, 1. Go for it!" We started with an out and back before beginning our counter-clockwise loops. My leg felt a little stiff but I wasn't experiencing the same hip pain that had been dampening my spirits earlier in the week, so the hopeful spirit continued. I wasn't pushing my pace, just trying to keep it steady and consistent, and warm things up.
After the out and back my first loop came and went. I was moving well, and more or less pain free. I didn't feel as though I was adjusting my gait in any way to offset the shenanigans of my right leg, so I kept pushing through. There was a spot on the first loop where I could smell the honeysuckle before I saw it and it transported me to the memory of my side yard as a kid and how intoxicating I found those plants.
honeysuckle by the lake
Knowing I would run past it 6 more times made me smile. It's the little things. Also on the loop, when you were about a mile or so out from the start/finish, there was a house with a Marine Corps flag wrapped around a giant pine tree. It made me smile and think of my Uncle Mike, who liked to give me a hard time for being 'nutty enough' to want to run more than a marathon.
Nearing the end of my second loop my stride was feeling less smooth and I was having short waves of pain in my right hip. I slowed down a bit, tried to shake things out, and kept moving. Fortunately, by the time I reached the start/finish area I was feeling better, so I decided to push through. I had sworn to myself I wouldn't do anything stubborn or stupid, and I felt I was still striking that balance. So, off on loop three I went.
About halfway through that loop, I was starting to question my decision. The tightness and pain in my hip was coming in more consistent waves, and I just really didn't want to do anything that was going to prolong whatever this injury is. I backed off my pace a bit, even walking for a little while, but I felt better running, so I switched back to that. By the time I reached the last aid station before the start/finish area, I knew that the smart thing to do would be to throw in the towel. I thanked the volunteers for being out there, and took a picture of one of their (many) entertaining signs.
These 'free' bikes were about 1.5 miles out from the start/finish.
I was tempted to bring in the race car...
Wise words
I reached the start/finish and let Rob, the Race Director, know that I needed to call it a day and give him my number. "Well, how far have you gone?" I looked at my watch: "27.8 miles," I replied. "Well, if you still want to get credit for the 50K, you can just run out to the turn around and come back and call it good." I was surprised and stoked. Some folks aren't so willing to make an adjustment like this on the fly, and I was grateful for the opportunity. Although I showed up knowing full well that I may not be able to finish my intended distance, I was really happy to know that I would still have an official finish logged, rather than a DNF.
I left the start/finish and headed out on a short out and back. Knowing that my body was in for just a little more running, I tried to pick the pace back up to where I had been towards the beginning of the race. I wanted to finish strong and not just limping in. My hip cooperated for the most part, and I was able to run it in. It was by no means a PR, but I felt good about how I had continued to check in with my body, to gauge what as reasonable and what was possible, and what was smart, and make decisions accordingly. I officially finished the 50K with a time of 6hours 10minutes 05seconds.
The volunteers and race staff were awesome. If you find yourself out in this neck of the woods and want to participate in a chill and historic race, I would suggest checking this one out.
My 50K medal
Details:
Shoes I ran in: Altra Escalante (super happy with these kicks)
Official Finish Time: 6:10:05
Things I ate: about 2 bananas, a boiled new potato, some Louisville Vegan Jerky Bourbon Smoked Black Pepper strips, curried cashews, dried mango, Nuun Lemon-lime tab with caffeine, pickles/pickle juice. (Pre-race I had a bowl of cornflakes and coconut milk)
The Post Script:
I've laid off running for the last week and change. I splurged and got a sports massage to try and aid the healing process. I've been biking and walking around, but resisting the urge to run, and focusing on stretching and foam rolling, resting and recovery. I'm trying to employ every bit of patience I have and not get stressed out that I am falling off a bit from my training plan, to keep in perspective the quality work and miles I've put into my training so far, and knowing that I will get past this injury and get back into it soon. I have big goals for this year's Vermont 100, I still think they are reasonable, and I'm looking forward to seeing just what I can do there this July. I'm once again running for the Team Run 2 Empower, raising money for Vermont Adaptive Ski and Sports. You can find out more about them here: VASS. And if you're feeling generous and philanthropic, you can donate to my fundraising page by clicking here. All of the money goes DIRECTLY to VASS. If you need a further incentive on top of just feeling good about donating to a great program, leave me a comment here or email me and I'll send you some baked goods or a handprinted postcard through the USPS. (I formerly owned a bakery and studied printmaking, so I promise it will be good.)
As always, thanks for reading and I hope this finds you well.
Lastly, this run is dedicated to my Uncle Mike. He was a fighter, and he passed away this weekend. I'm grateful for every time he gave me a hard time for being a 'crazy' ultrarunner. I'll keep running with him in my heart.
Music that's been keeping me going:
Car Seat Headrest and Naked Giants doing an incredible Talking Heads cover:
Minus the Bear live on KEXP, who I managed to see about a month later in Brooklyn, awesome to reconnect:
Ought on KEXP, because sometimes when there's a big beautiful blue sky, this is all that I have left:
Originally my plan for my first blog post of the year was to reflect on what I managed to accomplish last year, the hurdles I got over, and the new challenges I hoped to embrace. I'm sure some of that will still find its way into this post, but as the climate has changed in the world around me, things I would possibly have danced around seem all the more important to get out into the open.
This is a space for me to talk about running, specifically in the world of ultras, and all the amazing things I'm able to experience through those adventures. All you need is a pair of shoes, and even that is negotiable for some. When it comes to racing, or participating in organized events, there's a greater complication for me. The box. The dreaded box. It comes with two letters, most of the time, and you're supposed to pick one. Simple enough, right?
To be fair, I've hesitated to use this space as a platform for anything other than running, pictures of rad places I go while running, etc. But recent events in my life and in the world around me have shown me the importance of using my voice, sharing it with others, and being true to myself. If even one person out there stumbles across this, reads it, and feels less alone, then it will be worth it.
For as long as I've had this blog, in my profile I mention that I am genderqueer. Most people pay no attention to it. Some people have no context for that term and have asked me privately to explain it to them. The truth is, that was an in-between-the-boxes space I was trying to live in. For years I've navigated the in-between but never claimed one side or the other to be my own. If you look at my UltraSignup profile, I have race results in both boxes, both the M and the F.
The in-between, however, was beginning to feel less between and more invisible. In my head and my heart I have always held a vision of myself, of who I was and who I am and the world reflected that image, from time to time, but often saw me as something else. When fellow runners yelled passing encouragement of 'you go girl' I tried so hard to embrace that, but that's just not me.
For decades I've fought the desire to explore hormone treatment therapy to transition, for fear. Fear of losing my family, my job, my community. But this fear-less life of invisibility was becoming increasingly harder to face from day to day. Imagine waking up every day, getting dressed, looking in the mirror and seeing yourself one way, and then having the world reflect something completely the opposite back to you. I know that my experience is unique to myself, but shared by millions.
One thing that has been extraordinary about the ultra running community is the depth to our individual strengths. It seems we've all come from something, and many of us have found this sport as a place where we can face the sometimes complicated pieces of ourselves and cross the finish line stronger.
So this year, as I toe the line, I'll hopefully hold more confidence in the 'M' I've checked off on my entry. I'm a long ways away from giving any of the incredible beards of ultra running any sort of competition (Krar, Robbins, Koerner, I'm looking at you) there's now hope that someday I may also have facial hair worthy of its own Twitter handle.
I'm training again for the Vermont 100. I'll be running again this year as a charity runner for Vermont Adaptive Ski and Sport. (If you're feeling generous, feel free to donate here, and thanks!) I got some great runs in while out in the desert visiting my family for the holidays, and I've had some fun running around Prospect Park and Central Park on visits to NYC, the Fells Reservoir outside of Boston, and still hitting the trails and roads of Vermont, where I'm currently living. Here are a handful of pics from those adventures, in reverse chronological order...
Exploring new trails
Snowy, sunny fun in the Fells Reservoir trails outside of Boston
So sad, my Kathoola spikes busted, but still made it work
Can you find the stairs?
Snowy trails in Vermont... I think I'm getting the hang of it
Am I doing this right?
Central Park in January
Wooded trails tucked inside the city. Trying to be better about taking occasional selfies...
From my run in Central Park
Still learning how to properly layer, but these gloves from my sister and her family have been clutch!
Lake Champlain
A very frozen morning
Really enjoyed the juxtaposition of the windsurfing rental container amidst the snow
A day out in the Estrellas
I love this spot
the land where i'm from...hence the fascination with the snow&ice where I currently live
I'm trying to focus on getting some of my long lost speed back, and slowly making headway. While HRT has yet to give me any super powers, its at least starting to erase the one super power I never asked for- invisibility.
If this is something you hope to not read any further about, most likely I'll return to my regular content in talking more strictly about running, adventures, and pictures of the places I've been. However, if you think there's anyone in your life that might benefit from knowing that there's someone else out there experiencing the same thing, please share this with them. A lot of my work is with youth on the LGBTQIA spectrum, and one thing I hear most often is that the hardest part is how alone they can feel in the world. More importantly, if you know a young person who needs immediate support, introduce them to resources like the Trevor Project.
Lastly, I also want to use this space to thank my family for showing up, standing by me, and continuing to encourage me to be my 'Unique and Unrepeatable' self. It's hard to know that if I had been brave enough to share this with y'all sooner that I could have been living a more authentic life for longer, but I'm glad to have you along for the journey such that it is.
As always, thanks for reading. And, as the recently passed John Morelock would say, Run Gently Out There. And John, wherever you are, thanks for your kind words and our personal correspondence around these very struggles that I shared with you years ago. You were kind and accepting and a truly generous soul.
Where do I start? Do I start with the race, or the past couple months leading up to it? I've been so busy driving across the country, working, teaching and running that the pre-race post I had intended to write never happened. I'm afraid if I try to incorporate that here that I'd have a novella. For brevity's sake, though this is sure to be far from brief, I'll just start a couple week's out from the race.
morning commute to Burlington
Since finishing my last contract in the Adirondacks, I've been staying with friends at their amazing home in Bristol, Vermont. In the hope of allowing my body time to rest leading up to the race, and knowing that I wouldn't be able to simply sleep more, I set for myself a rigorous schedule of reading, writing, and movie watching. While also trying to fill my head with plenty of good music to recall during the race, I listened to many hours of KEXP. A popular local hike called 'The Ledges' provided me with easy access to some hill conditioning. And once a week I would run-commute into Burlington along the back roads, a perfect 32ish mile, hilly run. My feet felt good, my legs felt good, my whole self felt really good, and I was ready to race!
I spent the week leading up to the race trying to take care of all the last minute details. I kept looking at the aid station list (so many!) and trying to decide here I would leave drop bags and what I would put in them. I also focused on my eating and gradually reducing my fiber intake as the week went along, as this strategy has been working well for me in past races. While putting together my drop bags, I thought of Jamil and Schuyler of Mountain Outpost, and I tried to keep things as minimal as possible. Unfortunately, food allergies do sometimes make it tricky to refuel sufficiently only from aid station food, so drop bags do make my life easier. That being said, I always eat significantly less than I anticipate. However, I always take my drop bags home after the race!
Drop bag prep
When race weekend did finally roll around, I was excited to head down to Woodstock, Vermont to embark on a new adventure. The Element was packed and ready to roll, full of drop bags, my tent, shoes, clothes, water, the works. I left Bristol to head to Silver Hill and the race headquarters much earlier than I needed to because...I was awake! I stopped in Woodstock to grab some coffee and waste some time, as it was only 9am and check-in didn't start until 10am. I wandered into the Yankee Bookshop and picked up the most recent book by William Gibson to read later in the day as I waited for all things race oriented to begin. A small curio shop called Unicorn was calling my name, and once they opened I wandered around and found a new game called Story Cubes that is sure to provides some family fun time in the future. The minutes slowly moved around the clock face and finally it was time for me to head to Silver Hill.
As I was driving along I noticed some yellow plates attached to trees and knew I'd be running those routes over the weekend, my excitement growing! I headed towards the giant tents set-up for registration and found a goofy grin plastered on my face. To say that my stoke-tank was full would be a gross understatement. There were only a few dozen runners there, as it was early in the day, and no lines to speak of. As soon as I walked in the tent I heard 'Scout? Is that Scout?' an there was a smiling Amy Rusiecki, the Race Director, whom I had not yet met face to face. She said she recognized me from some of my pictures and welcomed me to the race. She knew that the final bits of fundraising had been a bit stressful for me to meet the minimum requirements, and she was glad I had made it. This interaction was one of many that I had with Amy that made this race so incredibly personal. I can't sing her praises enough.
Pretty empty tent, early in the day...
The first to put any drop bags in the pile...
Base Camp, my tent in the background
A couple hours later and the drop bag piles have grown!
More racers getting ready
Amy at the pre-race briefing
I moved along to the runner check-in to get my race number and other goodies. The volunteers there gave me special high-fives , hurrah's and thank-you's for being a charity runner. It felt pretty amazing. All the charity runners were given bib numbers that reflected our 'rank' in how much money we had raised. I was the 16th highest fundraiser, so my race number was sweet old 16, which made me feel like an elite, pretty darn cool. Next I checked in with the medical volunteers and then I went to set up my tent. Because I was early I was able to set my tent up right across the brook from my car, which was really nice both pre and post race. A large group of folks from New Hampshire called Six 03 sports set up a mini tent village next to me, and that was fun to be close to. Lots of great energy.
Tent and vehicle organized, I headed back to the main event tents to deposit my drop bags and was happily surprised to run into Wayne and Patricia Coates, some TTR friends. They were both there to run the 100K, Wayne already in possession of his Vermont 500 mile buckle! We chatted for a bit and I never did see them for the rest of the weekend, but I hope they had a great time! I then went back to the Element, tailgate down, and laid in the back reading my new book 'The Peripheral,' waiting for the 4pm runners briefing.
Here's the thing about ultra races- they all have their own individual character about them. This is partly due to the participants, but largely reflective of the Race Directors and their crew of volunteers. Much like the Vermont 50, the Vermont 100 has extraordinary character. The runners briefing was a time not just for a breakdown of the rules and expectations, but a chance to recognize veteran runners, newbies, Grand Slammers, charity runners (that was me!) and families whose lives are enriched by the services provided by VASS. It felt like a reunion in that tent, and I didn't even know most everyone. Stoke tanks fuilled once again, I went back to my basecamp, opting out of the pre-race dinner and sticking with the food I'd brought for myself. I read more of my book to try and get my eyes tired in the hopes of being able to fall asleep without issue. The race has a 4am start, with check-in starting at 3am, so I had hoped to fall asleep early.
Miraculously, I fell asleep sometime around 10pm and slept like a rock until about 2:45! Apparently my subconcious was feeling solid about my training, because I think that is the best I've ever slept before a race. The morning was cool, but not cold, and you could hear zippers of tents and rustling about, cars driving up the road for those that didn't stay on site, horses neighing and whinnying in the pre-dawn. I got dressed, liberally applied my Squirrel's Nut Butter to all the necessary places and headed over to check-in. Under the main tent the air was pulsating with excitement and anticipation, runners sipping coffee and munching on bagels, the always too-long line at the port-a-johns, the pre-race chatter about target paces and finsih times, the 'have you done this before' or 'oh, you're from where? Have you run such and such race?' We're such a funny bunch. Often the only commonality we share being our love of running far, but for most of us, that's enough. As I got closer to the port-a-johns in the dark of the pre-dawn, a headlamp approached me, 'Scout, right? I met you last year when you were volunteering and at the VT50.' Me- 'Remind me of your name? Riley, right! Have a great race!' Then I ran into Amy, the RD, who gave me a huge smile and wished me luck. I love this group of weirdos.
Almost 4am, lining up for the start. I shuffled in towards the back, not wanting to get sucked into a pace much more than a 10min mile at the beginning. Headlamp on, wearing my DapperBoi snapback to represent Vicky and Charisse and their awesome company and their support in my fundraising, number 16 pinned to my right thigh. I was ready to go. Countdown starting at 10, many heads down and fingers poised to start GPS watches, 3, 2, 1...cheers went up into the dark early morning, and we were off!
The first few miles were smooth, the pack gradually thinned itself out and I got into a good rhythm. Somewhere around 9 or 10 miles I started to feel a little hot spot on both of my big toes, which was odd, and because I'm stubborn, I just kept moving. I told myself that I'd investigate at the Pretty House Aid Station, around mile 21, since that was the first spot that had crew access, so other folks might take extra time there. This decision would later prove to be a mistake, one that I'm still recovering from. By the time I got to Pretty House the hotspots were blisters, which I took the time to tape, but my toes were not happy. I tried not to adjust my gait too much, as it was far too early in the race to be making that sort of compensation, but small modificatinos were more or less unavoidable.
As is generally the case with most ultras, I just kept moving. I snacked when hungry, drank water from my hydration pack and nuun water from my handheld and kept trucking along. Somewhere in there I met Jenny, from New Hampshire. We shuffled and walked and power hiked together for a while. She is a teacher and we talked about the joys and challenges of working in the fields of youth development and the importance of having hope for the future. I'm not sure how many miles we shares, at one point I pulled ahead and later on she leap frogged past me as my feet started causing me more issue. I really enjoyed our time together on the trail.
One of the cool covered bridges we ran across
I thought this tree was super cool
Aside from my toes, I was feeling good and looking forward to being able to change my shoes at Camp 10 Bear, where my back up pair was waiting for me in my drop bag. Just after passing through the Stage Rd. aid station around mile 30, and accessing my first drop bag, I also got water, nourishment, encouragement and smiles from the aid station volunteers. About half a mile later, I was lucky enough to get stung on my right ankle by a couple of bees, which motivated me to move just a bit faster up that grassy hill. Thankfully, bee stings are something I'm NOT allergic to! The itch became annoying at times, but it didn't end my race, which for me was all that mattered.
I also thought this busted up barn was rad, think
I may draw turn this into a drawing
My legs and feet moved, the miles continued to add up, and I kept getting closer to Camp 10 Bear. At Pretty House I had made the decision to stop the GPS tracker on my watch, as it really wasn't necessary, and to preserve the battery. I wasn't really trying to stay on a specific pace, all I really needed to know from time to time was, what mile was I at- which was marked at each aid station, and what time was it, which my watch told me! Magic. This way I knew where I was in relation to the time cut-offs and whether or not I needed to pick up my pace. Eventually I came to the aid station before Camp 10 Bear and I swear I heard an audible sigh of relief from my feet, knowing there was a different pair of shoes waiting for me there!
One of the fun things about running ultras, but particularly in running without a crew, is you begin to recognize the support crews of people who are running a similar pace to you. There was a big group from Birmingham, AL supporting three or four runners, and I just have to say that that crew was AWESOME! Any time I saw them I knew I was less than a mile form the next aid station, and it was fun to hear their enthusiastic hoots and hollers in the distance behind me when they first set eyes on their runner. Y'all were fantastic, your high fives were appreciated, and your hats were clutch.
trails...and a CONFIDENCE
marker on a tree in the
distance!
Camp 10 Bear!!! I made it! The fabulous volunteers found my drop bag. I got to work changing socks, re-taping my feet and switching shoes. I drank one of my Orgain shakes, shoved some more snack in my pack, refilled my hydration bladder and water bottle and kept moving. Although it felt like that stop took a lot of time, I think all said and told it was pry somewhere between 5-8minutes of downtime. I quickly said hullo and goodbye to Mike Silverman and got a high five. He's the captain of Camp 10 Bear and a kindred spirit in our shared friendship with Chad Denning, an extraordinary human and runner who this world lost too soon.
The field in the back-end of the race, where I was, had certainly thinned out quite a bit. Much of my time was spent running solo, occasionally a person just ahead or just behind me. This aspect of ultras always reminds me of a drawn out version of leapfrog, one of my favorite playground games as a kid. One runner I played leapfrog with for the last 55+ miles or so I didn't officially meet until the end of the race, Chihping Fu, you are incredible! And it was fun to share those miles with you.
Something folks should know about the area of Vermont that is the home of the Vermont 100: it is not flat. Honestly, of all the random back roads we ran on, I would love to know what percentage of them ended with the word 'hill'. I lost count. My primary focus in approaching all of these hills was to power hike them and maintain a strong and quick cadence. The way my brain decided to make this happen was by having the song 'Pump up the Jam' by Technotronic on a constant loop as I made my up each hill. The joys of growing up in the '80's! Still, it seemed to work well. I was focused on being stoked about my ability to move uphill well and trying not to get too frustrated with my inability to take advantage of the downhills. My big toes were trashed and it was really starting to slow me down.
Are you, dear reader, getting to a place where you're thinking 'my goodness, this is a long winded race report, Scout.'? I offer you this: it was a long race, and I'm doing my best to keep it brief, while still highlighting the moments that I told myself during the race, 'Oh, I want to remember this and put it in my write-up.' I'll admit, I get a bit self-conscious about it at times, but as much as I hope there are people out there reading this and enjoying the goofy things I recall, or learning from my mistakes, this is also a tool for me to remember this extraordinary journey and to know how to run even better the next time.
Back to the race...
The daylight was starting to fade, but my energy levels were good. With the exception of the trouble my feet were causing me, I was moving well and having a lovely time. Along the course they occasionally posted 'confidence' markers, and every time I saw one of those yellow 'C' plates, I smiles. When I reached the more than halfway point sign that read 'Mile 50.2, 49.8 to go' my stoke tank went through the roof.
LOVE this sign.
I had more than 50% of the course behind me! That meant only 5 more 10mile runs! The aid stations came and went. My feet kept moving, my brain created song mash-ups as the lyrics or melody from one bled into another. Hills were reserved for 'Pump up the Jam'. The Margaritaville aid station was as great as I'd remembered it being at the Vermont 50. I fueled up, refilled water and kept moving. The sun was truly starting to set, it would be headlamp time again soon, and the glow sticks would become my confidence markers as I made my way along the course.
the back road beauty of Vermont
Caught the moon as the sun
was setting
My second visit to Camp 10 Bear was brief, with more smiles and high fives from Mike. More snacks into my pack and off into the dark. Many runners picked up pacers at this point, so there was more chatting happening along the trail as I continued to power hike and shuffle my way closer to the finish. As I was getting nearer to the Spirit of '76 aid station a formidable lightning storm was building up some 10-15 miles away. I had no idea if I would be running towards it or away from it. Much of the course was very wooded/well covered, but there were also some stretches of open fields, which I was not super keen to run through amidst lightning. Still, the rain had yet to fall, for which I was grateful. Shortly after the Spirit of '76, things shifted. The lightning got closer, lighting up the sky. Sprinkles turned into drops, getting wet was unavoidable, so I kept moving. I made my way towards Cow Shed aid station, where I had volunteered last year, and was excited to see some familiar faces and maybe get some hot veggie broth. Somewhere along my way to Cow Shed I think I may have done a minute or two of sleep-running. It's hard to say. All I know is that a runner and her pacer were ahead of me, their lights visible...and then they weren't...but they were at Cow Shed when I got there. Who knows, but I'm pretty sure I was sleep running.
Struck out on the hot veggie broth at Cow Shed, but got some good encouragement from Teresa and her crew. Refilled my handheld and kept moving. About 200 yards down the road from Cow Shed, the sky opened up. It was pouring!! My glasses got so fogged up I had to take them off, which didn't help in the ability to see department. The lightning was also increasing in its intensity, and getting closer to my proximity. The course was coming up to a turn, and I had no idea if the next section was open or wooded. I got to the juncture and a giant flash of lightning, quickly followed by a booming crack, lit up the road and showed a pretty open stretch. So, I crouched to the side of the road under some smaller trees and waited for the lightning to decrease. A few folks passed me with their pacers and asked if I was okay. I imagine I looked a little crazy crouched there on the side of the road, but having spent much of my adult life teaching things like wilderness safety and lightning preparedness, I thought it best to wait it out. Ultimately, this cost me about a half hour, which bummed me out a bit, but I didn't get struck by lightning, so I consider that a win.
The rain ebbed and flowed. Sometimes stopping completely, then sprinkling, then deluge. My feet were soaked! When I made it to Bill's aid station around mile 88, the time I had lost waiting out the lightning was starting to stress me out a bit and I knew I needed to move. Aside from my feet being soaked, they were also TOAST and it was getting harder to move with any real efficiency, specifically on the downhills. The good folks at Bill's provided me with a fancy black garbage bag to put over my soaked self and keep me from getting too chilled in the pre-dawn air. The sun was just starting to rise and I was determined to get to the finish before the final cut-off.
I wasted no time. Most of the remaining aid stations I just moved through, only stopping to fill my handheld if necessary. I would be cutting things much closer than I had wanted to, but I was going to complete this race. There would be no excuses 'oh yeah, the rain really got me, but there's always next year.' Nope. I had worked too hard to not succeed with less than 12 miles to go, then less than 10...people had donated to VASS because they believed I could do this race, and today I refused to let anyone, myself included, down.
My legs kept moving, the miles added up. The games of leap frog continued. With every person I passed I wished them luck to the end, with every person who passed me I cheered for them, knowing they would make it! I hit the final miles and could hear people cheering others ahead of me into the finish. I found Chihping again, still pushing through , and encouraged him to the finish. It was only in this final mile that we formally introduced ourselves, giving names to the bodies that had been moving along similar paths for nearly 100 miles. And then, I saw it, I heard it, the finish line!! I made it, in 29:13:50. And my race concluded with a giant smile from Amy, the RD. I reached out to shake her hand, and thank her for a great race. She refused my handshake and gave me a huge hug and her very sincere congratulations. This is one of the many reasons why I do these races. This is a community, a family, and even with destroyed feet, so sleep and utterly exhausted, I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Done!
I earned these ugly feet,
and this awesome SOLO division
mug, and the finisher shorts
stuffed inside!
My first official hundo in the books...while my impromptu one's count in my book, this one is for really real. I've got the buckle and the finisher's shorts to prove it, and it feels spectacular. I participated as a charity runner, which I know some folks in the ultra community frown upon, but I could not have been more proud as I crossed that finish line, knowing I'd raised just over $1000 for Vermont Adaptive Ski and Sports. (In total, over $80,000 were raised this year!!) VASS helps create avenues of accessibility to a variety of sports for folks with any number of physical or mental hurdles. Sports have been an integral part of my life and my personal development, and I really value organizations like VASS that help to get more people out there, creating their own adventures in sport! (Okay, stepping off of my soapbox)
That about sums it up. I passed out in the back of the Element for about 40 minutes before changing and shuffling over to the awards lunch, where I mostly sat in my chair trying to stay awake and clapping for all of the incredible runners who had embarked on this journey a day earlier and found themselves on the other side. I got my finisher's buckle, and shorts, and Solo Division runner's mug. Stoke tank still overflowing.
To Amy Rusiecki, to all the volunteers, to all the folks who donated to my fundraising campaign, to all the land owners who let this race happen: THANK YOU doesn't begin to cover it. My sincerest gratitude is yours, and I look forward to seeing y'all out there again!
Proper post race celebration,
waited a couple days so I could
truly enjoy this brew I'd been
holding on to from Dark Sky Brewing
in Flagstaff, AZ
Earned this sweet buckle...maybe the
next one will be a bigger
Sub-24hr??
A kid can dream!
My still recovering feet a couple days post race...
might be losing those big toenails, still tbd.
