So, I checked the e-mail this morning and this is what I found - read below. Highly inspiring:
Subject: Race update and thanks
Dear Run to Remember supporters,
That’s it. The journey that began more than two months ago has come to an end. With the help of Natalie, an afternoon rain storm, caffeine and ibuprofen, I finished the Vermont 100 Endurance run (a race that began at 4:00 am on July 19th) on July 20th at 3:58 am. As part of this effort, we collectively raised over $25,000 for the Alzheimer’s Association. This is very exciting to me.
a run to remember | july 19, 2008
Now that I’ve somewhat recovered from the race, I can honestly say three things in hindsight: (1) I did not train enough for the hills; (2) I’m never doing this again (well, at least not anytime soon); and (3) it was the best and worst experience of my life all wrapped into one. The good we did for Alzheimer’s made this insanity all worth it.
A few stats on the event: overall, 266 people started the race and 156 finished in 30 hours or under (the race cut-off time). I was very lucky to be one of 73 to receive the silver “buckle” (for running under 24 hours) – and I was also the slowest, coming in with just two minutes to spare! This was the 20th annual running of the VT 100, so the event had an air of excitement and nostalgia about it, especially during the awards ceremony.
The race conditions were hot and humid for much of the morning and afternoon, averaging in the mid-90’s at the peak. Rain in the late afternoon saved us all and the evening was fortunately cooler and much more suited to running. The course took us up and down the hills and trails on a loop course through arguably the most beautiful farm country and wooded areas in New England. The unexpected happened often – from injuries to surprise scenery – but I guess I went in expecting the unexpected.
It was an amazing experience that challenged me in ways I could never have imagined. I wanted to quit on many occasions, but I thought of you all often as I pushed onward. In my mind, this was a team effort. I can’t thank you enough for your support, encouragement and advice throughout this whole endeavor.
In the end, it’s still difficult for me to reconcile everything that happened over the course of the race. This will likely require more rest and reflection, but I’m just happy it’s over and I can return to a normal life once again. It was certainly a run to remember.
Thanks again and best wishes,
Jeff
PS -- I attempted to recall the key events in my weekend. For those who are interested, what follows is a summary of one of the craziest experiences of my life …
RACE SUMMARY
Friday:
12:30 pm – Arrive in Lebanon, NH and pick up my rental car.
1:30 pm – Last-minute shopping in Lebanon to prepare for the race, including a headlamp for running in the dark (this was a KEY purchase) and bug spray.
2:45 pm – Quick glance at my watch – wow, it’s late and I need to get to the check-in meeting! I head to McDonald’s for a quick lunch and see a fellow runner there. How could I tell? Let’s just say the enormous calves and running outfit were a dead giveaway. He orders a double cheeseburger. Is this what ultra runners eat the day before a big race? Not flinching, I eat a cheeseburger as well. See – I can be an ultrarunner.
3:00 pm – I change into my running clothes in the McDonald’s parking lot as they need to weigh me in running gear before the race as a baseline. I drive away and soon thereafter miss a turnoff, which sets me back 20 minutes. Like I needed more stress …
3:45 pm – Arrive at the meeting just in time for weigh-in. They will compare this weight to my measurements tomorrow during the race to make sure I don’t lose too much water weight. I notice horse trailers and campers on my way in. Perhaps we’re just one of several events here at Silver Hill Meadow this weekend.
4:00 pm – At the race meeting, I learn a few important items about the race. First, it is going to be hot on Saturday, something in the 90’s. Yuck – this is warmer than expected. Second, one of the race directors stands up and asks, “Who here is worried about running with horses tomorrow?” Huh? Did he just say what I think he said? I go on to learn that this is the only 100-mile race left in the US that has people running alongside horses (with riders) the entire way. I’m not sure how I didn’t know this before. The horses start one hour after the runners and apparently finish around the same time. Third, no headphones allowed. I did all my long training runs with my iPod, but oh well. I guess I’ll listen to the sounds of nature instead of to “Eye of the Tiger” on repeat. I leave my drop bags for the aid stations so that I have access to my fuel, salts, sunscreen, extra shoes and socks and other goodies on race day.
7:30 pm – After checking in to the hotel in Brownsville, VT (at a ski resort), I head to dinner at Pizza Hut. Time to get carbs and read through the race materials. The course sounds exciting, but the nerves start really getting bad. I scarf down pasta and breadsticks and wash it down with water and a beer. After this, I pick up Natalie at the airport and head back to the hotel.
10:45 pm – Bedtime. I set three alarms and a wake-up call for 1:45 am. Will I be able to sleep?
Saturday:
1:45 pm – I wake up to the first alarm. I didn’t sleep much. I quickly get into my gear and get organized. It’s time to start drinking water, Gatorade, taking salt tablets and eating my Powerbar. To get as motivated as I can at this hour, I jam out to some music on my iPod while I still can.
3:00 am – Natalie kindly drives me to the starting line and we check in at the tent – it’s there I get some coffee and some last-minute water. “Chariots of Fire” is appropriately playing on a loudspeaker for the runners.
3:58 am – I say my goodbyes to Natalie (hopefully not for good!) and walk to the starting line in Silver Meadow.
4:00 am – We’re off! With water bottle in hand and a headlamp attached to my hat, I take my first steps toward 100 miles of fun. I look at my pocket laminated aid station list with mileage and estimated target times to achieve for the race. Natalie is planning to meet me at the major aid stations according to a 24-hour pace. I hope I can keep this up for the day.
4:30 am – It’s really strange and cool to be running in the dark like this … we all have headlamps or flashlights and it’s a group of hundreds of runners trying to find their footing in the pitch black woods.
5:30 am (Mile 7 – from this point on, the times and mileages are a best guess, with higher margin of error later in the day as I got progressively more delirious) – Sunrise and the first aid station. The headlamp comes off and I get to refill my first water bottle. I’m religiously taking Gu every half an hour for the first two hours to get caffeine in my system. After that, I switch over to Perpetuem, which is a more balanced fuel. My plan is to avoid solid food for most of the race. Much of the running now has transitioned from trails to gravel back roads, where we get to see houses and farms. I am ahead of pace so far, so I’m happy and feeling pretty good.
6:00 am – It’s already becoming clear to me that the reputation this race has for being the “easy” 100-miler is completely unfounded (or I’m just really out of shape – either possible at this point). The hills are substantial, both rolling as well as some steep ascents, and my strategy (and that of most not in the top 10 group) is to walk the hills. Some of these hills are long, which means my 25 minutes of running / 5 minutes of walking is out the door early in the race. As one running companion put it, “run when you can, walk when you have to.”
6:30 am – Given it’s still cool out, I take a risk and begin to pick up the pace a little bit on the non-hill portions to build a buffer. Once it’s hot outside, I can see myself slowing down.
8:00 am (Mile 21) – The first handler station. I’m ahead of pace, so I miss Natalie here. She is so nice to be chasing me around all day in the backwoods of Vermont in a car.
10:00 am (Mile 30) – Another aid station, this one on a main road. I am greeted by large groups of handlers for other runners. I’m still ahead of pace, so I stop to take a quick break and use the aid station to put on sunscreen and get new Perpetuem bottles. The mercury is climbing, but I feel like I’m keeping pace internally with hydration and salt. I meet and run with Andy, a race director from Tampa who is recording his thoughts on a Dictaphone as he runs – not a bad idea. He runs with his friend Candy, who eventually asks me how to do the Macarena while we are running (I kid you not). We do the Macarena and take our minds off the race, if for a brief moment of dancing glory. We run up jeep roads with plenty of canopy cover, so the sun is not a problem.
12:00 pm (Mile 39) – Wow – this is a hilly course. It’s really beginning to take a toll on my legs. My left hamstring is tight, but stretching doesn’t help. Is it damaged or just stiff? I decide it’s just stiff and adjust my stride to avoid stretching my leg fully. That’s better. Soon thereafter, my right foot, which has been a problem for me before, starts becoming a problem. A shooting pain turns into a cramp, but a cramp is better than a bone issue. Not a good sign that my body is rebelling this early in the race. My friends Andy and Candy, whom I passed before, pass me and ask if I’m okay. This is becoming a recurring theme – once you pass someone or someone passes you, you are almost certain to see them again as pit stops, walking, bush breaks and other stuff make your pace quite variable. I meet another runner / race director from Arkansas who has done this many times before. “This is your first time?” she asks. “Yes”, I reply. “Well, you’re at a nice pace. But it won’t last.” We run around a lake and I soak in the scenery. This helps to pass much of the time. I run over a covered bridge and my next aid station is ahead. More water!
1:45 pm (Mile 47) – I arrive at the next handler station … Natalie is here! I apologize for going out a little faster than ancitipated. My first medical weigh-in reveals I’ve lost 6 pounds since the start of the race. Most of this is water weight. Given this, I redouble my efforts to hydrate. It’s starting to get very hot now and I fear what lay ahead with my legs in their current state. My plan is to use a pull-through strategy as David O’Neill (friend and experienced ultrarunner) recommended. Just focus on the next aid station, nothing more. Fortunately, that’s all my mind is capable of doing …
2:45 pm (Mile 51) – Halfway there! I’ve been running now for almost 11 hours. I register this is farther than I’ve ever run before, but can’t let that get to me. I begin to resort to a shuffle step on the gravel roads, which is more pleasant on my left hamstring. The downhills are not fun and continue to be brutal on my quads, which are shot at this point. I enter the shade again in the woods by following the trail uphill, but it’s still very humid. For the first time, not finishing becomes a real possibility to me. I hear a rumble in the distance, but can’t really see the clouds through the canopy. My mind is now playing tricks on me … the aid stations seem farther apart … but it’s just my pace that is slowing. The forest breaks again for more jeep roads and farm scenery.
3:15 pm – I meet a nice fellow from Syracuse named Jim, who tells great stories of running the race the year before. We also start running with Laura, an experienced 100-miler from Alaska, but this is her first time running Vermont. Their companionship makes the next few miles painless. Laura’s story of running in Alaska is inspiring. Jim comments about the help of vitamin “I”, which I learn is ultrarunner jargon for ibuprofen. I agree that Advil is really helping my legs today.
4:30 pm – The heat is brutal at this point, but the rumbling in the sky grows louder. And then … it rains … and rains … and rains. A little divine intervention, perhaps? The rollercoaster continues, as the rain washes me off, refreshes and cools everything down. I feel renewed and get a third wind (or maybe it’s a fourth wind … I’ve lost count). Whenever I face a struggle, I remember why I’m doing this … Alzheiemer’s … all the support I’ve received for this race and the cause. It really helps. I meet a kind runner who gives me encouraging words about finishing. He also comments that the field we’re passing through is like the one in “The Sound of Music”. The view is breathtaking – mountains, trees and nature as far as the eye can see atop the hill. He tells me that his daughter is a dancer and that she would appreciate it if he reenacted the dancing scene in the movie. I provide moral support and sing a verse of the song with him. The ultrarunning community is a funny bunch.
5:15 pm (Mile 62) – Arrive at the “Margaritaville” aid station, where I meet Natalie once again and have a cheeseburger with Jimmy Buffett music playing in the background. I am feeling better with the weather and cooler temps. While pace has slowed, I still have a buffer on my 24-hour goal. It is here when it begins to hit me – so much has had to come together for me to get this far … physical and mental preparation, logistical planning, support from family, friends, and Natalie, the improved conditions, stretching, Advil, dealing with pain … I am overwhelmed with happiness and start running again. Much of this stretch is open road, which is a pleasant change from the trails.
7:30 pm (Mile 70) – Medical weigh-in #2 – and I am back on pre-race weight, so hydration is better. My legs are incredibly stiff and now my concern is just finishing the race. Can I just walk it in from here? I’m not having as much fun now. Such a rollercoaster. After talking to Natalie, I decide to shed my fuel belt and go to bare bones. From here, I will eat whatever I can stomach at aid stations and drink soda and Heed (a drink like Gatorade). I get my headlamp ready for sundown. One of the aid station crew members asks me if I want a pacer (a volunteer runner who will run alongside me for the last 30 miles). I turn it down as I don’t want to worry about walking and pacing. Natalie is not so sure it’s a good idea for me to running alone at night …
9:30 pm – It’s getting dark and I’m starting to get tired. More than 20 miles to go. Stay focused on running. I see other runners now only occasionally, so it becomes a solo effort mentally. As we enter another long trail section in the woods, I follow a couple runners with their pacers who have better headlamps, but I can’t keep up … it was nice for a few miles anyway. I can only see about 2 feet ahead of me, so I stare at the ground to avoid obstacles and keep my footing. The moonlit scenery is beautiful when I leave the woods. It’s so nice that local residents have opened up their properties to host the race. At this point, I’ve passed through fields, over covered bridges, up and around trails, through pastures, gravel roads, cemeteries, a couple main roads … I’ve also run with the horses … what a day. It’s so quiet out here. Where is everyone?
11:30 pm – Green glowsticks mark the path on the roads and trails. The game is now “get to the next glowstick” as I now can’t run all the flats without taking a break. I contemplate walking the rest of the way, but I’m too tired to think about being on the course extra time. A dilemma emerges – faster and more painful vs. more comfortable, but trying to stay awake longer. It’s a little surreal running alone at night, especially when I keep thinking of going to sleep. Why did I turn down that pacer again? Every mile is becoming a struggle. The prospect of not finishing enters my mind again. The hills have now become guilt-free walk zones, so I don’t mind them as much. Please give me caffeine.
Sunday:
12:45 am (Mile 88.6) – Wow – that was an awful stretch. By the time I reach the aid station at mile 88.6 (what appears to be a barn), I’ve fallen significantly off of my pace from the first half. Natalie has been watching in horror as runners coming to this station drop out, get hooked up to IVs and leave on ambulances. The scene does seem a little bit out of a horror movie to me, but I’m also totally delirious, so nothing really makes sense to me. I tell Natalie I’m not feeling well and sit down for only the second time that day. This feels way too good. Then, I get some coffee (finally – caffeine!), more Advil, and some much-needed food. I try to get a pacer, but the only available one is waiting for his runner to wake up from his nap (apparently people do sleep during the race). Should I be sleeping? I wave goodbye to Natalie and hobble onward. It’s a one leg-in-front-of-the-other effort now …
1:15 am – My legs are loose again and I’m feeling more awake. The coffee is helping. It’s getter cold now, which is nice. The moon shines over the field and the misty evening. The field runs along a patch of farmland and leads me back into the woods. Ugh. The next aid station has a fire burning, which is nice. I sit just briefly and pound some Mountain Dew and have a PB&J sandwich. I still feel okay. Just have to keep going.
2:50 am (Mile 95.5) – Arrive at the last manned aid station. The worker there gives me some reassurance that I’m doing well and could get a buckle. “Come on – get your food and go for it!” he says. It brings me to my senses and I look at my watch … 1 hour and 10 minutes to do 4.5 miles. Normally, this is not a problem. But in my state, it is. I decide to go for it.
3:15 am – After a brief stretch on the road, it’s back to the trails, woods and darkness. This slows me down, but I begin to push it, even on the hills. I have a nice pace going … I hope this is sustainable. Splat! Out comes my left foot from my shoe as I step in a pit of mud with a quicksand consistency. No time to clean off my foot. I put my muddy sock back into the shoe and carry on. Near a road crossing, I meet up with three guys from Boston also gunning to get in before 24 hours. They move ahead, but provide nice motivation to keep on trucking.
3:52 am (Mile 99.5) – I pass through what appear to be ceremonial gates with torches and into yet another stretch of woods. A sign reads “0.5 miles to go”. I glance at my watch … 23:52 … 8 minutes to do a half mile. I think I can do that? I start to sprint (which is likely closer to a normal person’s jog) … the glowsticks are now closer together and they have water jugs lit up to guide the way … I hear screaming off in the distance … getting closer now …
3:57 am (Mile 99.9) – 3 minutes to go – where is the finish line? I see a small light above the trees and see the hill dip lower and around to a clearing. I hear a few people talking and someone yells to me to “Sprint!” I round a corner and as I come up the hill, I see the crowd and the finish line in Silver Hill Meadow where this monster began. Just a few more steps … I put my hands up and let out a sigh of relief as I cross the finish line … my time is 23:58, the slowest and last buckler. My race had come to an end.
4:15 am – I am officially spent. Natalie takes me to a bed in the race tent and I lie down for a few minutes, eating some freshly-grilled sausages and some soup. Anyone have a beer? Unfortunately not.
10:45 am – It’s painful to walk, but we return to the race grounds after a short night of sleep to attend the awards ceremony. I speak to some of the familiar faces from the day before and recount the stories. Most of us look out of it. The race director announces my name and I hobble up to collect my plaque and buckle. At the end of the award ceremony, we pack up and head to Pizza Hut for a celebratory lunch. Soon thereafter, we head back to New York. What a weekend.
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