The 2nd leg of the Grand Slam was a path to experiences beyond running. Stepping outside the typical script of run, puke, recover, and finish – and yes all those things happened. Rather, I wanted to capture lessons learned during this 100 mile race. Also, this race was run as a team. Friend Eric and I went sans crew and pacers to the East coast and ran together every step of the way. A complete team effort.
Overview:
In comparison Vermont is easier than my other 100 mile races (Cascade Crest and Western States), but I wouldn’t label it “easy” but “different”. A large portion of the course is on hard packed dirt or paved roads. Following each turn there’s a hill. Strangely at most manned aid stations you entered on a downhill and leave on an uphill. There’s minimal single track trail and an occasional field crossing. The aid stations are frequent, too frequent really – including 2-3 unofficial aid stations. Unfortunately we stopped at all of them, which tallied 32-33 aid stations total – a large drain on our finishing time. The trail marking was superb and as promised every 0.2 miles. We never got lost; remarkable considering our 0% familiarity of the area. The weather was hot at the mid 80s with moderate humidity. Crew would have helped a lot here. In particular Camp 10 Bear was difficult to navigate in a timely manner. Running with horses was a welcomed distraction. The riders were over the top accommodating to the runners; they truly shared the trails/roads with us giving us complete right of way.
Sharing an ultra in its entirety can develop strong friendships:
Running an entire 100 mile event with someone adds an additional race element, something I hadn’t experienced outside of running with a pacer. In many ways it’s like having a pacer that’s been beaten just the same – whose focus isn’t so much on you. There’s a communal energy that forms. I’m aware of his state, and he of mine, but most of my focus is on me. We’re not micro-sitting each other but there’s macro-sitting in play. Beyond functional vitals, we take turns sharing life – often when the other is going through an energy low. I learned so much about Eric who inspires me beyond running and into life: being a father, a husband, and a professional. Maybe I taught him something too.
Extreme events accentuate character, good or bad:
Taking yourself through an extreme event peels layers away exposing who you are. If you’ve lost your identity, hours on the trail can reveal you, sometimes going a step farther and creating you. It can build self confidence as you drive through mental and physical walls. For some their happiness bursts out illuminating the trail. Others have pits of anger festering that are being worked out, like a trail-bound therapy session. Me? I get happy while running. Not bubbling at the seams happy, but talkative and social happy. Stress flows away and I live more in the moment than in everyday life. I’m constantly trying to pull some of that ultra-me into everyday life.
An ailing runner can be highly influenced:
Vermont had many first time 100 mile runners; many that hadn’t found their 100 mile running selves. There was unnecessary carnage on the trails. My thoughts went to them… That state can be a chaotic maze. Bad advice taken can end your race. Good advice can revive it. When you come in bad everyone has an opinion of what must be done. You hope the knowledgeable person speaks the loudest and at that time, you’re listening.
Tolerating pain:
I was lead to a discovery about myself by Eric. My high pain tolerance is both a good and bad quality. The good is obvious. Ultras deal pain. If you can tolerate it you can finish faster. The bad, when things aren’t working I tend to just suck it up and hurt rather than partition and resolve the issue. This is a barrier to me learning how to run a 100 mile correctly. Ideally I strive to have issues under control AND utilize a my pain tolerance – that’s my path to incredible 100 mile performances.
Long aid station stops snowball:
Don’t stop for more than 5 minutes in an ultra. Movement, however slow, is an important component of success. Longer than 5 minutes and your body begins to react to the stoppage by tensing muscles, halting pain relieving endorphins, and getting you lost in time. Additionally, the longer the aid station break the longer it’ll take you to warmup your running muscles when you hit the trail again. Be aware and timely at aid stations. Have a plan and get in and then out! The death march is akin to this, but rather than an aid station stop it’s a plodding pace. Shock the system and run! Break the slowing momentum and get moving – no matter how much it hurts to take the first running step. If you don’t you’ll slowly resolve to walking it in. Trust me, this will burn 2 days after the race when the pain subsides. Run.
There’s an odd “thing” amongst some runners, when finishing 100 miles is “just” finishing:
While walking away from the finish line another Grand Slammer approached with an identical hobble. “Hey, how’d ya do?” I replied, “Good, 25 hours and 47 minutes”. His face contorted in confusion, blurting out, “You mean I beat you!?!?” I paused then said… “Well, if you beat 25 hours and 47 minutes then yes. How did you do?” From there the conversation turned into a blurred run down of how all the other Grand Slammers did, most in the sub-24 region and some in the 21 and 22 hour finishing times. The scene laid out an interesting external dichotomy of my races, Western States verses Vermont. By the numbers I was “suppose” to run a sub 22 hour Vermont. This GSer knew that and had an off-the-cuff reaction which belittled my time and Vermont finish in one fell swoop. Non-intentional but it happened. And as I received my plaque instead of my sub-24 buckle it stung a bit; there was disappointment. I didn’t have the “glow” of many of the first time 100 milers that pranced around with their plaques taking momentous family pictures one after the next. My finish was just a finish – but I allowed it to be that way. The onus was on me.
One week removed from the race, I now realize running a 25-26 hour Vermot could be the single best thing I did. My resulting recovery is multitudes better (in feeling and time) than after Western States which will allow me to GAIN needed training in the 5 weeks until Leadville – not just recover. I’m running already, injury free with fresh feeling legs. This will allow me to hit Leadville strong and ideally carry over into the big race, Wasatch.
Wasatch is going down as a sub-30 hour finish (akin to a sub-24 Western States).
However, it’s still one race at a time. Leadville is my 100% focus.
A good strategical race. Most of these folks (59%) will falter in the next two races. Look at the records. The ones who did complete the past few years “paced themselves”—no spectacular times—just did the job and saved themselves for the races to come.