Seven Times the Charm? Vermont 100: Cookies, Lightning, Hills, and Fun

Vermont 100 has become a tradition, a staple in my annual racing schedule. I skipped it one year, and I spent that entire weekend, jealous out of my mind with FOMO. A bit overwhelming.

And a mistake I won't make again!

The course is not that easy. While it's not technical like Hardrock, or with the altitude of Leadville, it has a lot of hills. A lot. Some sections have lovely nicknames like "Agony," and some hills seemingly go on forever. Like, "Are we ever going to get to Bill's? This hill never stops." My pacer last year pronounced it cruel.

But it's gorgeous. Meadows and hills and oh-so-scenic. Imagine you bought a calendar of Vermont. These vistas would make the pages. There are rolling hills and meadows and barns and silos and adorable cows and greenery and a section called "The Sound of Music Hills."

worship the oreo-choc chip cookie hybrid

And the food. I have never eaten better food at an ultra. Homemade cookies and grilled cheese and so many other things. I stuck mainly with my staples (gels, chews, those biscotti cookies Delta gives out (I found them on Amazon and bought them in bulk) and coconut waters) but went kind of crazy at Margaritaville (mile 58.5). I mean, maple coconut cookies and chocolate chip cookies baked ON TOP of Oreos. Please, just hand them all over.

Jen was excited to pace me, even though she had never run more than a marathon. She was really nervous, and I tried to explain, "Seriously, it's not a problem. The main things you need to be good at are making sure I don't get lost and keeping me awake."

She was stellar at both, and more.

This girl held my hand as I had a total breakdown - crying hysterically, thinking I was going to die and get struck by lightning. I went to the bathroom way too close to her far too many times (much to the delight of her adorable 4-year-old daughter. Oh, and by bathroom, I mean I squatted in the bushes or on a patch of dirt. I think I did use one port-a-potty, but they are few and far between.

at the start. i want to puke. i feel like i'm going to puke. omg. omg.

Jen and I drove up the day before. She's been through a bunch of major changes in the past year, and we talked abt them, and some changes I've been going through (You know, quitting a job I'd be at for ten years, re-discovering how awesome happiness is, studying yoga for four months while traveling around India, starting a new career of yoga teaching and freelance writing while trying to figure my life out.). She had never been to Vermont before, so I got to impress her with the amazingness of The Vermont Country Deli. (Those cookies in the front...just get one. No, get two. And also - the lemon blueberry tart. And the mac and cheese. And the sandwiches - get one on the marble rye. And the carrot cake. And the...and the everything.)

I had packed everything into drop bags a week earlier, so after getting lost (Another VT100 tradition for me.), I dumped off my drop bags, got my bib, greeted Amy (the awesome RD, and a fantastic elite ultrarunner in her own right), said hi to lots of friends. Then we found some friends front and center and sat down for the pre-race meeting. Rules and talking, and then dinner.

And then I got back to our adorable Airbnb (Fluffy free range chickens everywhere!!! I want to move to VT!), I discovered ALL of my gels were in my drop bags. I remembered finding a few extras that must've been with my first 20 miles stash. Jen hooked me up, and then I tried to go to bed at 8pm. 

That didn't happen.

Finally I fell asleep and then we got up at 230. I force fed myself half of a bagel, drank some smoothie, and then dragged Wayne out of bed. Jen seemed the most ready, and I felt like I was going to vomit.

But then I started. I settled into a rhythm pretty quickly and felt kinda decent.

I also knew I had no business shooting for the moon. But you try anyway, right? Because if you don't, well, what's the worth of living in mediocrity?

My training had been crappy. I didn't have a strong enough base from being in India in yoga-land (I often started meditating and chanting and asana at 6 or 7am, which meant I had to get my run in before...and there weren't too many safe places or enough sunlight for me to run enough.) and then dealing with my weak ankle...I had one 100k, an 18 miler, two 16 milers, and a handful of 13 milers. Ummmm, yeah.

But mentally, I was good. All this yoga has really settled me. I have never felt so mentally good. The miles flew away. I kept running. I walked some atrocious hills. I did what I could. I didn't feel bad when I knew I wasn't running as strong. I caught up with friends. I enjoyed the views. I ate tasty treats.

Jen was the best crew. She showed up at all the aid stations with so much energy. It really kept me going. (That, and the popsicles...."I want the red flavor." Not cherry, red.)

It was hot, but not too hot. I enjoyed the peacefulness of my mind, the beauty of the hills. I reflected on so many of the changes, and hydrated in between.

My feet were also in pretty good shape. Farm to Feet had offered me an ambassadorship, which meant free socks - but I have never had such good feet after a race. (Usually I am covered with blisters. This time - whew!)

And then somehow - I was back at Camp Ten Bear again. It was time to start running with Jen.

So glad Jen joined me at Camp Ten Bear my second time...just over 69 miles run!

We had a good time. We talked and laughed, told each other tales about our day.

It was dark just before Spirit of 76, and I was glad to get there. Wayne was there! Always a great pickup.

A few miles beyond, we picked up another runner at an aid station. Riley was only 21 and so full of good energy. We chatted as we ran.

And then the lightning began.

I am totally afraid of lightning. You can die it if hits you.

Riley and I were holding hands. We were both crying. I'm pretty sure if was not either of our finer moments in ultrarunning.

The rain began. In buckets. It sucked. I have not been wearing my glasses very long, and this was my first time racing in glasses (I only wear them at night). The rain was hitting them sideways. It sucked.

Bill's was a haven. I peed in the port-a-potty and then we didn't stay too long. It was kind of like carnage. Wayne never showed up (He got lost with the thunder and lightning.) and I figured he was asleep in the car.

When we took off, the rain had stopped. Everything was somewhat magical and dewy and beautiful. My hallucinations were intense and things were glowing and gorgeous. I could do this. I could do this.

And then I couldn't. The rain picked up. It drenched us. I fell apart. My hallucinations went from gorgeous pieces of art to scary things. I stopped looking off trail; there were too many scary things popping out that weren't really there.

Riley took off. I began almost falling asleep. The rain in my eyes. It was all too much.

The lightning. I was pretty sure we were going to die.

I got to Polly's, mile 94.5 or so. I didn't want to leave. I was shivering. They fed me warm plain noodles in water. I didn't want to leave. What? I figured I'd wait out the rain. (Bad tactic - it never stopped and I just wasted time.)

Then we left. More lightning. We were running through open fields, and I was pretty sure I would never go to Burning Man or do anything. I was going to get torched by lightning. (I somehow never thought Jen would; just me.)

But we made it. The trails became horrendously muddy and difficult and barely runable. I slogged. Mudfest.

And then, I saw the sign for a mile. I wanted to cry. It still felt so far.

Jen was there. We saw a huge hill. "Are you going to run this thing?"

"This course is eating me alive."

And we pushed. And we pushed and we pushed.

I finished. It was pretty miserable at the finish line, but Amy was super nice, giving hugs, buckles, amazing shorts (great schwag!) and then I had hot cocoa. 

The race was a big deal for me and Jen. She's never run further, and I never ran a 100 on such poor training. It pulled us closer together, we shared so much about ourselves, and I'm so glad she was there for me.

Wayne was there with hugs and rain jackets for both of us, and I am so grateful that even though life isn't perfect, he's always there to try to make it as good as possible.

And obviously...this will not be my last time at my fave 100 miler!

The end. See ya next year, VT100!

Post finish. Best hot cocoa. Seriously, it was a packet, but tasted divine.

All pics by the best pacer, Jen Cwiok! (except maybe Wayne took the ones of us together, but Jen was the photo director)

Vermont 100 (2015) Race Report: Top

It's been a while since I ran 100 miles at Vermont. I had a rough race. I had my second slowest Vermont. Funny - I didn't feel like death marching, though I probably was at times. My pace was waaaaaaaay slower earlier in the race. (Even in my slowest VT100, I still came into Camp Ten Bear in the light....it was dark, scary dark this year.)

me and the legendary john geesler

I didn't want to run Vermont. I wanted to stay at home and eat tacos and read poetry and drink tea. Unfortunately, I didn't do that, though I still did have some fun at Vermont. 

The summer turned into a blur post VT100. I didn't have time to write a race report. Now, months late, I want to write one, but many details are fuzzy. Thus, I'll do a top ten: the worst and best of Vermont 100!

Best:

1. Aid stations. They're great. Grilled cheese while running? Pancakes for breakfast aid stations? YES PLEASE.
2. Views. Super duper pretty. Just gorgeous.
3. Interesting course.
4. My pacers were amazing. Fun. Wonderful. Cheerful. Great.
5. Nothing like running for glow sticks. Kind of like a rave, and you hallucinate naturally.
6. My pacers giving me amazing baked goods.
7. Great, friendly runners.
8. The volunteers are so nice. Neighbors even random left lemonade at one spot.
9. Lovely sunrise.
10. Horses.

Worst:

1. Hills. OMG the hills. Seriously. How are there this many hills - and why do we come back?
2. The rain. We hid out at an aid station from the rain during a horrendous downpour.
3. My asthma sucked all day.
4. OMG the hills. Seriously.
5. Mud. Juicy, delicious mud.
6. The hills.
7. Lack of sleep.
8. The hills.
9. Worrying about weight gain/loss (yep, I did both).
10. The hills.

I made a few realizations....too many 100s destroys Cherie. I'll be focusing more on 50 milers for a while...I feel way too burnt out. I'll stick with one 100 a year....and yes, Vermont 100 miler will be it!

100 Miles of Running Misery and (Mis)Adventure and Fun: The Great New York 100 Mile Running Exposition

Starting line of class of 2015 TGNY - photo by the amazing Oh Snapper

I kind of have wanted to stop doing so many 100 milers. But not TGNY - it's in my city, all my friends are either running, pacing, or staffing an aid station, and it's the most awesome way to see NYC!

You run through Manhattan, the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, and again, Manhattan. The course isn't super hilly - there are a few small hills, and some bridges (some so horrendously terrible that I want to cry just thinking of them...). You have to deal with traffic lights and cars and I almost got hit by cars too many times, and there are some arrows on the ground, but it's hard to tell which are TGNY 100's and which are ConEd's, so you're flipping through a turn-by-turn directional sheet and I only got lost six times. (SIX TIMES. HA!) You run through tons of awesome parks, different beaches, and see a diversity of people like nowhere else. NYC is my favorite city in the world, and thus, I adore this race.

Phil McCarthy is the RD - yeah, that Phil McCarthy, American record holder for 48 hours. Also, musician, super-nice guy. The race has a really homey vibe, and the volunteers go all out, buying tons of food for runners, decorating aid stations (Wayne put up my surfboard with TGNY 100 on it in green el-wire and his big kite up.), and so much love. I want to cry thinking of it (of the love and the pain, hahah).

Jill encouraged me to try the low FODMAP diet the day before the race to eliminate stomach problems. Unfortunately, it seems like the gluten free flours do not agree with me (not the first time I've had this happen....I ate gluten-free cookies a few years ago at a race and dry heaved for hours...). I live, I learn, I experiment.

I felt good, running with friends in the beginning, chatting. The pace was fine, I felt good. I grabbed a coffee cake to go from Mary's aid station at mile 5 (which saved me later on) and then, before mile 10, saw my friends peeling off from me. I ducked into the bathroom twice. How the hell was my race over before mile 10?

Early in the miles. My stomach had already started bothering me. Photo (c) by Oh Snapper.

I began slowing down. Eating was out of the question. I couldn't do this. In Van Cortlandt Park, Karen caught up to me and we began chatting. Then suddenly, I said, "I have to throw up." She said, "Do you--" "No." I was grateful she ran on, as I dry heaved, crying hysterically (I always cry when I throw up) into the bushes. I got up, walked a bit, and then began running slowly. Then I ducked into the bushes and was grateful I brought toilet paper.

Running sucks.

I ran on. I got slower. I would have to drop. There was no way I could finish this brutal thing. I texted my pacers something like, "Mile 16. My stomach sucks." And then I ran a bit, and then sat in a bench, holding my stomach. Shannon and his friend Chuck showed up. I got up and began running with them. Then we stopped so Chuck could get this few inch stick out of his shoe. 

Running with Shannon and Chuck was fun. They made me laugh a lot. Shannon told us abt showing up drunk at the start. I stopped and hula hooped with a bunch of fiftysomething ladies in the Bronx. It was fun.

We ended up getting separated in Orchard Beach. I was happy to reach Orchard Beach, and kind of wanted to take a photo, but didn't feel like taking my camera out. Anyway, cameras don't capture THE EMOTIONS which are the real thing, anyway.

And then, leaving the Orchard Beach Aid Station, I got lost for the first time. It took me probably around 15 minutes to figure out I was lost and to get back on track. I ended up running with a really nice 100k runner and her massive running posse. (She told me her name but I was a bit of a zombie and am lucky I remembered my own!) We ran through some more parks in the Bronx, and then, I lost them when I ran under the Deegan. You're running under the Deegan Expressway, with a highway on the right side of you and railyards on the left. Pretty ugly. I picked up the pace to get out of there.

And then - the Triboro bridge to Randall's Island. I ran across it, feeling okay. Randall's Island is mulberries and organized sports and quiet and green. It was really nice. But getting back on the Triboro Bridge to Queen was a different story. I began freaking out. 

Ever since I got my concussion two years ago, bridges have freaked me out. The morning after I got my concussion, I ran the Brooklyn Bridge and got the worst case of veritgo and was freaked out.  I removed the Brooklyn Bridge from my regular rotation. 

On the Triboro, I began okay, but once the side dropped lower I freaked out. I gripped onto the railing and said, "You can do this, Cherie. You know you can. C'mon..."

Two girls walked up behind me. "Are you okay?"

I realized they probably thought I was going to kill myself. "I'm really scared of this bridge. I don't know why. Can I walk w you?"

I walked with them, babbling nonsense; they were very lovely. Then, Jurgen ran up and grabbed my hand. "C'mon Cherie." We ran across, holding hands, me death-gripping his hand until I felt okay (aka off the scary bridge). Then we ran to the aid station where I saw my first pacer, Menachem.

Menachem watched me shovel in pretzels, a Girl Scout Cookie, and a half water-half red Gatorade drink. We took off, me babbling like I was on some sort of bizarre drug (which I wouldn't recommend this type of drug if it did exist...it would send people to insanity!) and then we began running. We quickly became lost, and again. Theme of the day.

My stomach was feeling better, and I ate some Hammer gels and Hammer solids. My calves hurt terribly and I told Menachem I wanted to stop. "No, you don't want to stop...Look at those bushes. I just love perfectly manicured bushes....Doesn't the sound of the highway next to us remind you of the ocean? It's lulling me..." and on. Menachem has a very soft, soothing voice, and I felt like I was going insane, so we were a great combination.

"I hate everything in the world."

"No, you do."

"Yes, I even hate Pistachio."

Menachem then texted my other pacers, "Cherie hates everything, even her cat." Haha.

We ran with Karen for a little bit. We ran, we walked, we talked, I babbled. I can't even tell you what we talked about. It might've been in German or Spanish. I'm not sure. I was pretty out of it.

Alley Pond Park was amazing. Soft, squishy path. It felt wonderful.

In Queens, you basically run from park to park to park to park. It's awesome. You probably didn't know there were so many parks in Queens. Then, finally, in one of the parks: MEG!!!!

Meg moved from LA back in September and has become one of my regular running partners. She's never done an ultra, but has a ton of great energy. I wanted to cry and somehow, she picked me up, emotionally threw me over her shoulder, and dragged me off. We began slogging ahead.

My calves were hurting so terribly. My stomach felt on and off. Everything sucked. I wanted to quit. Unfortunately, I sent Meg an email that told her to push me. She kept referencing this email. I'm glad I sent it, but oh, how I did want to quit.

Meg took this selfie of the two of us, and posted on FB, asking people to help motivate me

 We got to 100k and I was grateful. I ate a little and Trishul told me that I had 50% left when some girl tried to tell me I "only" had 38 miles. "The hardest part is the end." He also told me that he hear that I was struggling. Yes, I know. But not what I want to hear. Sigh.

We took off, Meg following the directions. Then we ran into another pace, Joe. I never met him before, but Facebook is a very wonderful thing sometimes. He ended up being totally awesome and an amazing pacer.

I got a strawberry Italian ice, which was wonderful. I went back and forth between wanting to quit and hating everything. Hey, that doesn't sound fun? Not really. I was a bit of a hot mess. Okay, I was a MASSIVE hot mess. Kind of embarrassing to be around a totally strange guy and a friend who had never seen me so low. Oops. They pushed me and Meg said, "You can make a decision to drop out when you get to Wayne." (Meg is a big liar, but I love her for that lie.)

At mile 66 or so, before the bridges, we got to Yuri's aid station. He gave me an intense massage which involved cracking my back and me screaming. Pedestrians called the police for torture. Kidding about that, but passerby peered out the windows of their cars to see what was going on. Apparently, several people were asking how much a massage was. Yuri told them the cost was running 66 miles.

We left. I did feel a ton better. I ran a bit, we walked less. Broad Channel is a strange place, but pretty beautiful. And then, somehow, we got to Wayne's aid station, mile 71. I was ecstatic. I began cheering before they got there, and Wayne and my friend Sherry both knew it was me and cheered for me.

I completely changed my outfit while eating pretzels. Okay, I ate a pretzel and a half, but I tried to convince Joe that was plenty.

Then we left. I was suffering. I was miserable. We ran. I whined. They put up w me. We stopped at some random bar to use the bathroom, and got yelled, "You don't speak English?" I really wanted to reply, "Hablo espanol solo."

I wanted to drop. But Joe was really mean and wanted to see the evil Marine Parkway Bridge. I got really freaked out and had to hold hands with Joe and Meg. My legs cramped up really bad and I just had a meltdown when I got off the bridge. I threw myself on the ground whining and moaning. At one point, I told Joe I would run if he could catch a nearby rabbit, which he tried, but rabbits being rabbits, are impossible to catch.

I slogged on. I felt like crap and was so negative, I know. I'm sorry Meg and Joe. You two were stars and I was sooooo miserable. 

We passed by more rabbits and I saw some lovely hallucinations, a la balloon strings like you see at Burning Man. 

I threw myself down on the ground and put my legs in the air because my calves Hurt. So. Freaking. Much. Then I put my legs down and was refusing to get up. Then I saw flashing lights. I sat up. It was a cop. 

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just ran 77 miles and I hurt."

"Do you want some water?"

"No, I have water," I told him.

"She's fine," Meg assured him.

And then I got the hell up and slogged on. Could it be called a run at this point? A walk? No, a slog. A suffering slog.

By Plumb Beach, where Wayne goes kitesurfing, we met up with a random super nice guy, Izzy. He was nonstop cheerful and I was a bit cranky. But I somehow dragged my ass to 80, where Meg said I could decide to quit.

AS IF I WOULD QUIT WITH JUST 20 MILES TO GO. (Meg is pretty smart.)

Joe and Meg said they'd come if I wanted, but it had already been a long day for both of them, so I told them to do whatever they wanted. 

They left, and I took off with Pete, who also paced me last year. He didn't get me lost at all, was cheerful, and a great pacer. Izzy was with us at the start. I had to go to the bathroom, as my stomach hated me again. Fun fact: the bathrooms in Coney Island at the boardwalk are open. Hurrah!

We trucked on. Pete and I stopped in a gas station so I could get an iced tea. I have to say - that's the most bizarre thing about this race. You're running 100 miles but suddenly you pop into a deli, and then you start reading labels to find an iced tea sans high fructose corn syrup. Pete was patient with me, as all my pacers were. (They are probably talking to my parents and Wayne about locking me up now...)

The caffeine perked me up, and made me have to pee. So now I was stopping to pee every 15 minutes. Or so it seemed.

At 85 - I made it to 85!!! - we now headed to the Shore Parkway. And it was raining. Raining hard at times. I was wearing shoes w the toes cut out (to accommodate for swelling) and my socks became wet. The tape on my neuroma caused blisters, so I took it off - but too late. My blisters grew worse. I tried not to cry. 

I ran until the blisters hurt, then walked. We talked about UTMB, friends in the ultrarunning community and how they were doing, I don't even know. I was kind of out of it. At two points in the race, I saw people I know very well and looked right through them, a la zombie. (Sorry, Deanna and Mary.)

Brooklyn.

And then THE BRIDGE. Of course I was freaked out. But then - then - we were getting up there....

I loved once we got into the numbers. As we climbed higher, I got more and more excited....and then I heard cheering and saw the finish line.

Finish line. Me, awesome RD Phil McCarthy, and my awesome pacer Pete Priolo. I don't even remember Mon Ferrer taking this photo.

Gratitude.

For being finished. 

For Phil for putting on the race.

For my amazing pacers.

For Menachem for making me feel like I was someplace else.

For Meg who refusing to let me quit.

For Joe who didn't back down when things got tough, even though he didn't know me.

For Pete, who led me straight into another finisher's medal and was an amazing rock.

For the parks of NYC and all their glory.

For all the other runners for being so fun and nice.

For Wayne and Sherry for being my rock to get to - and every other aid station.

All the aid stations were awesome. They were staffed by my friends, who bought great amazing treats to share and were smiling. It was wonderful seeing them.

Vermont 100 Race Report: Hills, Greenness, and Gorgeousness. And Kind of a Crappy Race Running-wise, but you can't win them all!

This report is super late because, well, life. But the experience was so huge that I've also needed some time to just sit down and write about  how amazing it was. And how painful. And how much it taught me. And how I can't wait to go back next year.

Vermont 100 is a really special 100 miler. Really. And I'm not just saying it because it was my first many moons ago, and the 2014 Vermont was my fifth Vermont (thus earning me a 500 mile buckle, wheeee!). There is a lot of love and thought and kindness put into this race. I've run 100s and 50s where it's clear the RDs could barely care. Vermont 100 is many months of planning and time of volunteers and 100% awesome. I love it.

The aid stations have themes and decorations. The volunteers are cheerful. People sit outside their houses to cheer people on. There are horses. It is just GORGEOUS - rolling hills and meadows and barns and silos and cows. I got to moo at a bunch of those cows. That was quite wonderful.

It's tough but good at many points. Everyone comes back every year, so you make new friends. And it's awesome. I don't have 5 consecutive runs because I skipped a year. I spent that entire year feeling sick in NYC, checking online to see how everyone was doing. Yeah. It's like that.

getting weighed in. my weight was pretty consistent the entire race. photo (c) Samuel-Christophe Tedjasukmana 2014

I started out excited to run - but my legs felt kind of sluggish. You know sometimes you just try to run a speed workout and your legs tell you, "No, this is NOT happening"? Yeah, that was happening. So I decided to experiment. "I'll see if going out slow helps me. My legs will feel fresh later on."

News flash: going out slow does NOT make your legs feel fresh. They still feel like utter crap. I'm going to never go out slow again.

I was chatting with lots of friends, enjoying the day. My crew missed the first two checkpoints, and I was honestly a little worried about them, but fine. I pushed, but did my own pace. It was often slow. I ran a bit with Elena whose legs were trashed after Western - but it didn't work out. She was running UP the hills and walking down, and I was doing the opposite. Oh, ultras....

I hate that technical section in the 30s. Just kicked my ass, but I was prepared for it and it didn't seem that bad as it had in the past. I was sweating, feeling overheated, but it actually wasn't that hot. Low 80s maybe.

The Sound of Music meadow literally made me sing, and that other meadow in the 40s - still gorg. Never gets old. I love Vermont. I should move there - except not in the winter.

running friends rock. photo (c) Samuel-Christophe Tedjasukmana 2014

Mile 50, I ate a cookie at an aid station and it clearly didn't agree with me. It sent me on my hands in knees, dry wretching and heaving like I never have before. Misery. Ugh. I was forced to a walk for a while, letting my tummy calm down. My tummy was never 100% the rest of the race. Misery.

At Vermont, you run from aid station to aid station. Running through that covered bridge. Heading to amazing Margaritaville. So much fun. You just love the volunteers.

Margaritavilla had the cookies back, and I was happy. I wished my stomach was feeling better, but I slowly chewed a few ginger cookies as I walked out of the aid station before running.

Camp 10 Bear Rocks. Photo (c) Samuel-Christophe Tedjasukmana 2014

Mile 70 and pacer #1, Christophe, and then I fell apart. My blisters. OMG my blisters. My blisters. My feet. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Changing before being paced. Photo (c) Samuel-Christophe Tedjasukmana 2014

Basically he got to see me at my worst. Thanks, Christophe. Oh wait, no, the worst would come later. I ended up walking a lot more than I wanted to because my feet were in agony. When we got to Spirit of 76, my absolute favourite aid station of the course, I ate grilled cheese and had someone wrap moleskin around my blisters. I really need to run with moleskin. It's pretty wonderful.

best aid station ever. photo (c) Samuel-Christophe Tedjasukmana 2014

I left the aid station with Kim, who was super positive and a really great pacer. We chatted about everything random, Burning Man and running and whatever, and the time actually went by pretty fast. I ran most of the time with her, which is saying a lot. 

me and kim at bill's bar.(c) Samuel-Christophe Tedjasukmana 2014

When we got to Bill's Barn, Pacer #3, Stephanie was ready. She was so patient as I was a hot mess. I was not great until Polly's, but after Polly's, those last few miles before the mile 98 aid station, I was a wreck. I was peeing every 10 meters, falling asleep on the trail, my feet hurt, everything sucked.

It sounds horrible, right?

But really, it wasn't. It was a lot of pain, yes, but also so much fun. It was hanging out with lots of my amazing friends in the ultra community, and seeing pretty sights. It was eating lots of grilled cheese and cookies. It was joking about Immodium and mooing at the cows. It was being free. It was no email or bullshit or deadlines or washing dishes. It was being in the present moment, it was now, it was awesome.

Thank you, amazing pacers Christophe, Kim, Stephanie. Thank you, volunteers. Thank you, Julia & Amy. And thank you Vermont for being so freaking beautiful.

TGNY 100 Video

Awesome. Another example of John Budge's brilliance.

The Great NY 100 Miler Race Report (2014)

Photo by Ben Ko of Sarah, Thunder, and me

"You know how the NYC Marathon is a huge gathering event and excitement event for all runners in NYC? That's what TGNY 100 has become for ultrarunners in NYC," one of the runners told me. So true. Pretty much everyone in NYC was out, either running, volunteering, or pacing. It makes for 100 miles of hanging out with your friends in some really cool places. Okay, and under the Bruckner sucked, but everywhere else was pretty cool.

Otto, Thunder, me - photo by Oh Snapper

I have paced twice and volunteered once, so I knew what to expect for the last 50 miles. I was pretty blown away by how amazing the course was, and how cool it was to see New York City in a very different light.You get to run through all of these parks you didn't even know existed, swamplands, run over bridges, run past cool neighborhoods, and enjoy a very different view of New York City. It's pretty amazing.

The start. Photo by Donna S-T

The race itself is put on by American 48-hour record holder Phil McCarthy. One of the nicest guys, it's an honor to run this race.

The course is a lot of fun, and Phil really thought things out as he designed the course. You start and finish in Times Square, which is pretty neat, and the course goes through a lot of parks, bike paths, and neat streets, so it's actually a lot cooler than it sounds.

The negatives - you have to wait for street lights. There's a hideous section where you run under the Bruckner. Aid stations are water and gatorade, and anything else the volunteers buy out of their own pockets (Most of them really did have stuff.). There are turn-by-turn sheets that can be a tad confusing at signs, although some sections of the course were marked really well. (The first 100k was marked quite well.)

But the positives far outweigh the negatives.

Start of TGNY, photo by Grant McKeown

We started out of Times Square, and ended up running north in Central Park. Although it was 5am, it was still somewhat bright, and it was really exciting and everyone was in high spirits. Yay. Then you emerge from the park, running north, snaking over until you are running alongside the Hudson. You run north, north, north. Everyone was joking, laughing, and walking the hills. Yay.

We crossed over the Henry Hudson Bridge, which I did not like. We tried to yell to a group that we had noticed went off course, but they didn't hear us. After we got off the bridge, we were in the Bronx.

We ran through Van Cortlandt Park, which Phil had marked quite well with flour. We almost went off course once, but one of us noticed the slight turn and we ran through the park, enjoying it. There was a group of us, laughing, talking, finding our way, following our way.
 

Ray and I, mile 31. Thanks for the grub and photo, Emmy Stocker!

Orchard Beach was awesome. I had never been there before. You ran out 2 miles and when we got there, I felt silly. I had a random woman take our photo, and Ray (a newbie 100miler who finished in 29 hours) tried to explain what we were doing and she just didn't get it. I was excited to be on the beach.

Photo by Grant McKeown, returning from Orchard Beach

We waved as we ran past a bunch of guys in the Bronx smoking weed. We got slightly off course. We ran under the Bruckner, which sucked. The Triboro was a little scary but we survived. On Randall's Island, I began to get excited. Soon I would see Menachem, my first pacer (and my friend). I found a port-a-potty, which was nice to not drip dry. We hit up part two of the Triboro. 

Just after the Triboro - thanks to Kino for the photo. Look at Menachem's "fancy" running attire white undershirt & gym shorts from high school, literally.

A few blocks after we got off was the aid station and Menachem. I probably horrified him as I shoveled as many Girl Scout cookies and chips and Gatorade into my mouth as fast as I could. It was his first time at an ultra and I'm surprised I didn't scare him. He's still signed up to do the Burning Man 50k!

We took off running, and laughing. I began to get hot, really hot, really really hot. Ray and Menachem began discussing physics and my brain felt fried. I poured water on my head as I slogged behind them. We ran near LGA and the planes were close and we ran by a sulfur-smelling swamp. We got to an aid station where I picked up Melissa Woods, next pacer.

I began to feel better. We ran through a sprinkler in a park. We walked. I tried to get my focus back. Melissa took photos of the houses in the neighborhood for her friend. I welcomed the distractions and the conversations.

Ray and I shared Vaseline for our chafed bits. Only at an ultra do these things happen...

Photo by Ben Ko

We entered Alley Pond Park, I was feeling a little more clear headed. Menachem said goodbye as I shoveled down oatmeal cookies. He was a really good friend to see me suffering, and to have his awesome sense of humor. I loved it. Melissa was a bundle of energy and an amazing pacer. Ray ran with us, suffering but really in good spirits.

Mile 60 we met Beth and Cortney. They arrived way too early and had to kill time with beer and the World Cup. We ran to the 100k mark, where Trishul asked me, "Are you going to continue?" Uh, yes. Of course! I took a bite of eggplant parmigiana, Melissa gave me a change of socks, and we took off! I said goodbye to Melissa who was so awesome she was going to work at two aid stations after she left me. THANK YOU!

Beth & Cortney had never paced at a 100 and they were really great - energetic, fun, focused. Cortney was in charge of the directions and she was really great, and I was grateful because my mind was shutting down. Beth on the other hand, was checking out the local scene, noting bars of interest and taking photos. I sucked down an enormous Italian ice and was losing my mind as I lost feeling in my feet.

Broad Channel. Cute houses. Bridges. Cortney navigating. That blister hurt. OMG it hurt. I sucked down gus and my teeth literally ached. Do ultras cause cavities? Ow.

Into the Rockaways. Beth's chatter didn't stop and her and Cortney seemed so sane that I felt like I was probably an alien. We got into mile 71 where I said hello again to Melissa, hugged Wayne, shoveled down food, changed my sneakers to something a half size bigger, and then we took off.

Yes, a large rainbow Italian ice. Oh so refreshing.

Or, we left. My feet were a swollen mess and everything sucked. My mind was a trap and I was stuck in there and I was glad to hear Beth and Cortney dealing with logistics like directions and wasn't that an adorable house and shouldn't we do a summer share down here?

Ray caught up with us as we pulled closer to Riis Beach. At that aid station, they tried to force me to eat. I was hating 100 milers, swearing to never do another one. Seriously, 50 milers are SO much more fun. Why don't I just stick with those? What is wrong with me? Next year I will only do 50s milers...except maybe Umstead and Vermont and Hinson and National 24 Championships and....

I'm an idiot. I'll keep doing 100s.

We crossed the Marine Parkway Bridge. I'm terrified of the bridge and will only either sprint over it and walk clutching someone's hand. We walked uphill and after I was freaked out so much that I couldn't speak, I asked Ray if I could hold his hand. Death grip was more like it. We walked fast. On the top, we began running.

We ran up Flatbush Avenue, which is spooky and feels like forever. And then alongside the Belt, where Wayne goes kitesurfing at Plumb Beach. I saw lots of rabbits and peed in the darkness behind a fence. We kept running.

Then we got into Sheepshead Bay. Beth was like, "WHAT IS THIS? Where are we?" High heels and cologne and fancy cars and clubs and I'm running with a headlamp, looking like a truck ran me over, feeling like it. We got to mile 80 and I said thank you and goodbye to Beth and Cortney and Pete took over.

Poor Pete. I was out of my mind. My pinky toe hated me. I changed into shoes w the toe cut out but I needed to cut out more. We tried to use glass or something to cut it further, but it was pretty bad. I was in agony. We walked fast or ran and I felt horrible. Pete talked abt triathlons, ultras, so many things. He was great.

Along Shore Road, my arch suddenly hurt. I couldn't run. I was almost in tears. I wanted to stop. Was I hurting myself permanently? I hated this. Along the water, there were tons of people fishing, hanging out, smoking weed, drinking beer, running, making out. It was bizarre. NYC is really the city that never sleeps.

Mile 90. "I want to stop. I really hurt my foot." I cried. The awesome volunteers wouldn't take no for an answer. They iced my foot, put moleskin in my shoe, fed me cookies. 

I hobbled out of there. I hated everything. The ten miles were going to feel endless. In Sunset Park, Pete bought me tea. I was falling asleep and tried to drink it. Stay awake, Cherie. Stay awake.

We hobbled. We talked. Wayne drove by the course and said goodnight. I began running. It hurt, but I could do it.

Mile 95. I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life as I was to see the amazing crew at mile 95. A small shot of rum, which was harsher on my belly than I would have thought. Keep going, girl. The Brooklyn Bridge. I hate this bridge now.

And the streets. Run. Run. Run. Run.

And somehow....done.

Me and Pete at the finish; thanks to Annette Vega for photo

I felt like crap, but was overjoyed at the finish. I sat around for a little bit, chatting. And then I was just too tired. I thanked Phil and Pete and everyone else, got my stuff, and fell into a cab. I got home and showered. I was too tired to eat. I just fell into bed with wet hair and woke up 3 hours later, famished. We went out to brunch and I felt surprisingly okay. Really really hungry.

What an amazing race. Thanks to all the volunteers, my awesome pacers, my kickass boyfriend, Phil & Trishul, and everyone else. I love you all.

Umstead 100: Misery, Party, Blisters, Hallucinations of Jesus, and Sub 24 (though far from my goal)

 Umstead 100 is always a fun 100 miler. There are good friends, reunions, friendly volunteers, runnable course, Ray K, proximity to my sister, lots of runners, and so much fun. Of course you have to do it. Of course.

Tony is Da Man (photo by John Price)

I had a lot of trouble in the race. In fact, when I finished, I sat on the steps to the lodge bawling. "Why can't I just run a good race? Why is every race I run terrible?"

But it was fun. I spent time with good friends. We had great weather. I got to see my sister and super cute nephew. So it was a good race for those reasons.

Umstead is a great race because the course is great - fairly runnable, with some challenging hills. The weather is usually mild, in April for North Carolina, with usually pleasant race-day temps, though it can get cooler at night. The footing is good. There are port-a-potties twice on the 12.5 mile loop, and real bathrooms. There are two big aid stations with TONS of food, and a few smaller ones with limited amounts of food and Gatorade and water. It is a real fun party ultra, with great crowds and smiling folks. I love it. Also, it's ten minutes from my sister's house, which is even better! I had John Price crew me, and he's an amazing crew too, so everything was perfect.

Lap One
I began running with Tony, which was fun. We went out too fast - 1:55 for the first 12.5 miles. I didn't remember it being so hilly. We flew in and out of the aid stations, not stopping at any except the main HQ. We caught up on each others' lives and laughed and talked.

Lap Two
My tummy began hurting and I ran into the Port-a-Potty. Oh no, would this be a repeat of my first Umstead? Ugh. I ate chewable Immodiums at the aid station and washed it down with SNOWCONES. I love Umstead.

Lap Three
Tony and I began feeling somewhat crappy - my stomach, his legs felt dead. (He ran a 50 miler on sand two weeks prior.) We suffered and were quiet in our heads, chatting occasionally.

Hal Koerner was in the lead, and passed us. He was running up a hill - blasting it, actually - and Tony and I were walking. Tony yelled, "Good job," and I said, "Running? You're amazing. You're supposed to be walking it and complaining, like us!" He laughed.

(John Dennis also passed us, saying nothing more than screaming, "ON YOUR RIGHT" because he NEEDED that tangent. We moved over quickly for him.)

Lap Four
I was feeling better, and trying to swallow my gus. I ate poptarts when I could, and Tony was suffering a lot. I tried to cheer him up.

We were running on the flats in the hilly section after the second main aid station. It was Hal Koerner. I recognized him from behind. He was walking the flats. We stopped and walked up the hill with him. He told us he had a crazy week, and we chatted for a few  minutes. A really nice guy. We laughed when he said, "Didn't we meet here last lap?"

Running so fast I'm a blur (photo by John Price)

A bit before the aid station, I began running and Tony was still walking. We separated then, and Tony made it one more lap before leg cramping left him with a credit for 50 miles.

Laps Five and Six

Toast of gingerale (photo by Mary Shannon)

My pacer Carter Swampy met me. Carter is the nicest guy; we barely knew each other and now I adore him. We met at Croatan, and he offered to pace me. He paced for me two awesome laps, and we had a blast. He pushed me, let me set the pace, let me be ridiculous, told me entertaining stories, acted as my therapist, laughed, looked at my blisters, watched as I ate poptarts, and had fun - all while running or cursing at the hills.

My sister met us in the middle of lap five. It meant a lot to me; she had a baby three weeks ago and was recovering from surgery a week ago and couldn't walk far. We hung out for a few minutes, chatting, and she even brought my adorable nephew.

My headlamp stopped working. I hated gus. All food was awful. Drinking a normal amount sloshed in my stomach. My feet were hurting. My hamstrings, my hamstrings. That blister - the one I always get. OW.

Lap Seven

Kevin and his awesome fiancee Isa met me. They were incredible. They fed me, they made me run, they listened to me whine, they took care of me. I was miserable. My blisters sucked, it was dark, I was tired, and running sucks.

Lap Eight

Before lap eight, I hopped on Denise's massage table for a mini-massage. My legs felt better and Melissa began pacing me with a run-walk mixture. Unfortunately, my blisters felt like hell, worse, and my feet were so swollen I could only hobble. Misery. I was crying and wanted to stop. I wanted to curl up and nap. I hated everything. Everything. Melissa was telling me stories about deer attacking people and I was wondering if one would do that to me.

At the second big aid station, I had them pop my blisters. It took time, but now I was able to run again. They also gave me a cute throw-away fleece, and I felt warm. Melissa and I ran to the finish.

I sat on the steps and cried. What a disappointment. I trained so hard and to fall apart? Do I just not have it? Is the end just too difficult? Should I stick with 50 milers? Do I need to run in bigger shoes? Should I amputate my little toe? Am I too slow? Should I stick to roads? Am I crazy for doing this?

I don't know. I love ultrarunning. I am hungering for a good race, for a PR, for a race where I know I ran my best. It's been a while, but I'm hoping I'll have that soon.

Even if I didn't run my best, I know I did all I could do. I ran sub 24, which is still quite good. I need to talk to my podiatrist about my recurring blister on my pinky toe, eat more sweets, and figure out my tummy. Life is good. Umstead was fun. I finished, and running is almost always a blissful, beautiful thing.