VT100

Vermont was pretty good weather this year: not too hot, not too cold, didn't rain. The hills were still there, but maybe because I remember it being so incredibly crazy hard last year, that I survived.

Good cookies, good folks to run with, lots of I'm so tireds...

I didn't have enough power in my headlamp due to weak batteries so some of the end dark portions were super dark and that was tricky.

I feel like now, it's another great year at a wonderful race. I'll be back for sure. The cookies, the people, the views - that's why I go!

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!

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.

Vermont 100 Miler: Still My Favourite Race, and LOTS of Grilled Cheese (And Even More Hills)

This is my favourite 100 miler. Oh Vermont 100, how I love you!

Friendly volunteers, great race organization, kick-ass fun aid stations with great selection of food, oh-so-beautiful, tons of access points for your crew.

This is my favourite race.

But it's not easy.

The course is a combination of dirt roads, some gravel roads, jeep roads, trails, and a little paved roads. This year, lots of rain led to the new addition of LOTS OF MUD. UGH. Oh well. Keeps things interesting, right?

This year, I was really excited because I had two amazingly eager and awesome crew members/pacers. Kristen (K.P.) has run a bunch of 50ks and Shane has never run an ultra, but they both were eager to see me dry heave and cry. They were an amazing team and I barely had to do anything at an aid station if they were there. 

You have to show up the day before for medical check (They weigh you and take your blood pressure.) and go to the pre-race meeting. I was a bundle of nerves. Post-meeting, Kristen and I headed to a random restaurant where we ate dinner and joked around. I sorted through all of my stuff and then had trouble falling asleep at 8pm. I finally fell asleep close to 10pm...and woke up at 2am.

When I woke up and began to get ready, I realized I had no running socks...except for the ones in my drop bags, which, you know, I had dropped off the night before. I had cotton ones with little hearts I had slept in the night before...so I started with those. Oh crap. Bad idea on a course with lots of mud....ugh.....

You start at 4am on a grassy field out onto some windy dirt roads that make this New Yorker panic with how tiny and windy they are (for driving, that is; for running, so fun!). It was a good fun excited crowd, everyone chatting, catching up, still having fun. I had forgotten my headamp, so I borrowed my pacer's (Kristen's) and it either needed a new battery or was just pretty weak because it wasn't too helpful.

The course is beautiful - but hilly. The worst part is mile 31-62. That is SO hard. It was way harder than the 50miler I just ran. Just lots of punishing ups and downs. 

I ran out pretty hard - looking at my Garmin, I see my first mile was 7:42. Wow. Lots of 8ish minute miles in the beginning. I was having FUN. It was beautiful, there were nice runners, and oh, how I loved it.

Mile 22.5 I got to see K.P. My feet were already soaked and muddy and I ran with her to the car and then I sat in the driver's seat and changed my socks. Ahhhhh....much better but I already had a blister. Not being a big blister person, I attribute a lot of it to the socks. And oh yeah, all the mud there was no way I could avoid running through.

I ran on. It was pretty, fun, I chatted with lots of people. My nutrition felt pretty good. Mile 26.2, I shouted, "We just ran a marathon! YAY!" And of course, kept going. Because this is an ultramarathon and we're too stupid to stop at 26.2.

I surprised myself to see my 50k split as 5:34. Pretty good, actually. I was hauling ass up the mountains. Push, push, push. I ate gels, my chewy shot blocs, and drank water. It wasn't that hot - it was SO incredibly humid.

Stage Road Aid Station was mile 31.4 and Shane was there for the first time and amazingly was in the role. Him and K.P. ran around, fetching me ice for my coconut water, feeding me gels, cleaning and lubing up my feet as I changed socks and shoes. They both seemed cheerful and I was sad to not see them until Camp Ten Bear.

And then, crap, wait, SHANE, KP - take ME WITH YOU! THE NEXT 30 MILES SUCK, PLEASE, PLEASE, Oh....they left....oh crap...I have to run this.

You run down the road (stuffing pretzels in your face if you're me) and then you go up this steep muddy (There goes those clean shoes....) trail, and it gets steeper, and steeper, and oh crap, this sucks, it's hot, it's humid.....

But then - oh my god - the meadows....most runners call it "The Sound of Music Meadows." It really looks like. I began singing it and this guy joined it. It was this beautiful harmony and we began running together, singing various songs from The Sound of Music. Unfortunately, I began getting a weird stitch in my stomach from running too fast downhill so I slowed down and let the songs live on in my head.

I love the covered bridge. I was so happy and then I was even happier to see my friend Tammy, who had just run Badwater. I shoveled some chewies in my mouth and ran on. To an uphill for 2 miles. That sucks. That is horrible. 

The entire time I felt like I was going to vomit. Horrible. I swallowed tears and pushed up but it sucked, sucked, sucked. I couldn't eat.

The aid stations felt further apart than ever before - but there are 29 aid stations so I know I was just wimping out. But seriously - did they make this course 200 miles instead of 100? It felt double as long....

Finally, shortly after 43, I started feeling less horrendous. I wasn't ready to eat anything, but my tummy didn't feel like I was going to vomit everywhere.

Help, get me out of here, this hurts...

Camp Ten Bear. Oh, glorious. I weighed in - SAME WEIGHT. Let's celebrate with a grilled cheese sandwich, coconut water on ice. I changed my socks and headed out on a nice jaunt. Wait, hills, what, I thought we were done. WHAT?

I ran with Keith Straw. I ran with Ironpete. I ran with strangers, new friends and old. I sang aloud. I sang in my head. I struggled with the hills.

Mile 50. Sub 10 hours. Not bad, not bad.

They slightly changed the aid stations this year - Seven Sees was a new one for crew. It began raining, and then pouring as Pete and I ran into the aid station. I moaned, "I don't wanna run. I hate the rain." I changed my running skirt; my liner was causing some horrendous chafing.

I put on a rain jacket; I ran out with Otto, who was having tummy troubles, and Pete. The rain stopped. I ran into Margaritaville, which sadly had no cookies but which of course was playing Jimmy Buffet's "Margaritaville." Shane brought me my sewing bag by accident which I had left in the back seat of the car and I teased them, "Look at this fabric; could I use this in a 100 miler?" I needed KP's industrial strength hospital grade lube and Shane screamed, "Lube, get the lube!" and KP ran to the car. I changed my soaked socks and drank more coconut water and ran on.

I ran with Keith Straw a little as we pulled into the next aid station. I kept having to pee but actually had trouble peeing - it took FOREVER. (See the Ultra List for my question and the answers, ha!) And then...wait....yes....CAMP TEN BEAR AGAIN!

I got weighed in and oh crap....I lost three pounds. Not a big deal but I needed to make sure I ate and drank lots. "My, you're looking skinny, Cherie," KP told me as I began to fully change my humid sweat-and-rain-soaked outfit for a brand new outfit. I stuck my tongue out, ate more of the more gourmet delicious grilled cheese, pulled on my headlamp, and set out with Shane.

I didn't know Shane that well, but of course, in true ultra style, we began blabbing away like we were BFFs soon. He seemed really intrigued with everything, and we talked about running, school, friends, growing up. The time flew, although the miles did not. I had such painful blisters and my feet were so swollen. Despite having changed my shoes to a half size bigger, my feet were nearly bursting out. I begged some volunteers for Ibuprofin and it helped a bit.

Spirit of 76. Shane and I got to see the lighting of the paper bags on the steps. It was SO pretty. I began screaming at how it was my favourite ever aid station and I ate some grilled cheese.

We left and 89 felt really far. Bill's Barn. We ran through windy trails and while Shane was completely normal, I saw monkeys in the trees. I didn't tell him how many hallucinations because to be frank, I didn't want to freak him out and I was kind of freaked out. Run forward. Run. Run. On his first introduction to an ultra - "Oh yeah, man, she was on crazy drugs. No one could act like that." Ha, I wish. At an aid station, I begged for morphine but no one heard me.

Bill's. I weighed in and I weighed 3 pounds more than my original weight - which was 6 pounds more than less than 19 miles earlier....ummmmm...that's kind of a lot. I told KP when I left and she burst out laughing.

I changed my socks at Bill's, said goodbye to Shane and I got up. Everything looked fuzzy and black. "Kristen, I need to walk," I said, unable to see the world clearly. I felt like I was on some sort of weird drugs. "Sure, Cherie." We walked. "Oh, this is the field I hallucinated in last year. That was a nice hallucination." "Sure, Cherie." And I saw a ghost and I saw...

The hills...OMG. Down hurt like up. Why was I going SO slow? WHY? WHY? I had been on pace for sub-20 and wtf is wrong with me? Why was I dragging slow? I might not even make sub-24. Push ahead...push ahead...OMG my blisters...my feet....dry heaving....ugh...so tired...energy shot...chew a shot bloc....what am I doing out here? Why does this hurt so much? Oh, this is pretty...wow, this is scary....I have to pee, ugh, it takes so long to pee...look at these roots...try to not face-plant...I wonder if I'll get home in time for Margaret and Joe's party...wonder where my other friends are, like Carlos and Hiroshi and oh my god, I don't even know anyone else's name anymore...that girl with a, her name starts with a letter...uh....why does this...ugh, it hurts...it was so fun earlier...at least it's not hot or cold. Kristen kept talking, complaining, gossiping, talking, I don't care. She told me the story of a messed up relationship, I told her one. 

Polly's. OH MY GOD. Shane was there and it was so nice to see him. 4.1 miles to go. OMG. YES!

I hobbled away, K.P and I running to the finish. It took forever. It was actually more like 41 miles there. I saw the gallons of water with glow sticks lit up close to the finish. And the signs that said "1 mile to go" and "1/2 mile to go" - that as per tradition, KP kicked for me.

The finish line. The finish line. THE FINISH LINE! I crossed it, SO happy. Far from my goal time, but sub 24. Best of all, I had fun. I saw pretty spots of Vermont. I sang with strangers. I made new friends. I had a blast. And you know what? ONLY ONE MORE VERMONT 100 UNTIL I GET MY 500 MILE BUCKLE. (And six more until I get my 1,000 mile buckle...)

Shane and KP had so much fun they are already planning next year...and decided they are going to take on another pacer/crew. Those interested in applying must follow through with a rigorous application process. 

Postscript: After Shane brought me a grilled cheese sandwich, we all collapsed in the car...and our car got stuck in the muddy field. Shane tried to push out the car, dig out the car, use bales of hay. KP got stuck in knee high mud. I hallucinated in the back seat and dreamed of taking a shower. In the end, a tractor pulled us out. It was a surreal end to a bizarre day.

This 100's for You, Papa

When I ran the Iroquois Trail 50 Miler (now known as the Virgil Crest 50 Miler), the race was hard. Hilly, mountainous, exposed. It was a rough race but I still managed to scrape out a fairly respectable time, and I believe, was either 3rd or 4th woman. I was in a lot of pain, as we often are when running long distances - but I pushed forward. 

The same time, my Grandma was going through radiation for cancer. She has recurrent melanoma. I love my Grandma dearly and decided I would dedicate my race to Grandma. Anytime I felt pain, I thought, "This is nothing like what Grandma is experiencing. Grandma is in more pain. PUSH ON." And I did.


My Papa died nearly two years ago and there isn't a day that I don't miss him. Even writing this, I have tears in my eyes. He was such a special and wonderful man and I miss him dearly.


He wanted to die. He didn't want to be in pain anymore. 


I was not there when he died. I was at Burning Man. The moment he died, I was either starting to wake up or running to the farmer's market on the playa with my friend Rachelle. But that night, I went to the temple and wrote something for my Papa. I wrote, "Papa, I don't want you to be in pain anymore."


And he wasn't.


So, when I run the Vermont 100, although my Papa is now passed, I will think about him. My foot has been hurting me (I have an appt Friday morning 845, which should be enough time to cure me, right?). But even if nothing's wrong, 100 milers are painful. They suck. You are crying in the middle of the night, cursing at twigs, saying how you hate your mother for giving birth to you so that you might do this, glad your partner isn't there b/c you'd break up with them because of some silly excuse. Your shin hurts, your butt hurts, you stomach hurts, oh god, everything hurts.

This year, it'll hurt. I know it does, it always does. (Especially miles 70-100, oh god, at least I'll have fabulous pacers then!) But this time, I'll dig deep. Papa, this race is for you. You might not be here, but I'll be thinking of you. And when it hurts, I'll remember the pain you suffered. I'll remember the light you were in so many people's lives.

And I'll push on.

Vermont 100 Race Report - 2010!

My goal heading into the Vermont 100 Miler this year was to not have a repeat of last year's performance, and to buckle! I DID IT!

I had an excellent crew this year - Matt, who runs with my running club. He's a fast marathoner and has never run an ultra, but he crewed Nelson, Gisel and I at the Bear Mountain 50 Miler last year. (The above picture is of me and Matt, before the start. Matt paced me from Camp Ten Bear at Mile 70 to Bill's Barn at 88, and he also paced from 95 to 97. After the race, Matt told me he wants to do the Vermont 100. I told him I'd pace him. I'm so excited he's caught the ultramarathon bug.)

Deirdre, a 2:41 marathoner, was also crewing me, and she paced me miles 88-100. She ran the Caumsett 50k in an incredible time, and if she focused on ultramarathons, I know she'd be up there with some of the top women, even winning races.  Both of them were incredibly helpful and motivational. They applied sunscreen, fed me fudgy brownies (and helped me wipe off the chocolate all over my face afterwards), wiped my feet of dirt, ignored me as I peed practically next to them, encouraged me to eat, pushed me to run faster. Having an excellent crew was super helpful in pushing me towards my goal time.

The race started at 4 a.m. Early starts are tough and I had, er, trouble going to the bathroom. I only slept 3.5 hours, and was super nervous. I didn't want a repeat of last year, and didn't feel as strong as I could. I was burned out/overtrained in April, had surgery and two forced weeks off in May, and have had trouble mentally and physically motivating myself to do as many long and tough runs as I really needed. All these thoughts fluttered through my head at the starting line as Deirdre and Matt pumped me up.

I met a lot of ultrarunners from the Ultra List, who recognized me from my description, including the John "Non-Sherpa" Lacroix and Alan Geraldi.

I felt strong as I went out in the beginning. I forgot about all the trails (single and double track) early on, and yes, even some hills. Wait, why are there so many steep hills? I thought this was rolling hills. Apparently, my memory blocked so much of the pain and I need to remember to re-read this blog posting before I do the Vermont 100 Miler again - which I will. I didn't have a cheap flashlight because I forgot. Last year I never got my extra headlamp back, and didn't remember it being so dark. Well, it was. Next year, I'm bringing a cheap flashlight and leaving it at the first aid station.

I met a nice guy who worked for Deloitte, where I was once a junior librarian. We chatted for a while, and I ran with him on and off a few times. I felt the pace was a little tough, but I knew I could handle it. I don't push myself enough and I need to. I ran with a lot of different people at this point, having all sorts of interesting casual conversations. It was nice to get to know so many different runners, and best of all, hear their stories of other races I should do.

It got hot quickly. I filled my water bottle at each aid station. Knowing what I should drink, I kept to just under one bottle between each aid station. That way, I wasn't overhydrating. I also enjoyed the wonderful feeling of squirting water on the back of my neck.

In the meadows early on, a la Sound of Music, I forgot about the amazing views, the hills...wow, this was a wonderful race.

In between South Pomfret and Pretty House, my stomach began hurting a lot. I tried eating gels and ended up squeezing a half a Strawberry Banana Gu out, which is my favourite gel. At Pretty House, Deirdre was there with a huge amazing smile! She gave me a Zico coconut water - and it was amazing. It really helped me feel better. I grabbed more Power Gel Blasts, changed my shirt (it was soaked with sweat already - some people started out with long sleeved shirts, which was crazy!), and ran off. She told me I was doing great with time.

I had my times taped onto my water bottle, but I taped them on poorly and I ended up ripping them off as I shoved my bottle in and out of my pack. I recommend doing this very neatly and well - I did this with Umstead and it really worked out.

My stomach felt a lot better. The coconut water really settled it. I picked up the pace a lot. I drank water, chatted with new people, and had fun. I felt strong and was happy my stomach had recovered.

When I arrived at Stage Road, Deirdre and Matt weren't there; they had to drop Iliana off at the start. I got a volunteer to spray me with sunscreen (I don't want skin cancer getting in the way of my ultrarunning - but seriously, my grandma has recurrent melanoma so I try to be good about sunscreen). I pushed on.

I met a really nice guy, Grant, who was doing the Grand Slam. I know others who have trained for it/done it, but somehow, his casual chattering about it, made me want to do it. We ran together, talking about running in the Bay Area, ultrarunning lifestyles, races, life. We got to the aid station (the one at the top of the hill) and I told him how the year before, I told the two guys I had been running with, Jon and Shane, how this should be on a calendar of pretty New England. He agreed. 

I somehow lost a little bag of Endurolytes and he gave me some S-caps and told me I should switch over - apparently, S-Caps have a lot more sodium than endurolytes. (I did notice at my best 50miler I took exclusively S-caps and felt great....) We enjoyed amazing popsicles, hosed ourselves down, had some random guy hose us down...and then headed into "Agony."

I don't remember "Agony." I must have a terrible memory. This section was awful. Steep hills. Roots. Walking. Running and tripping. Up. Pant. Inhaler. Inhaler. Pant. Ow. Sore. Slow. Trip. Run. Conversation doesn't distract enough. Keep pushing.

It was lovely to finish "Agony."

Grant and I probably ran together for nearly 20 miles but my stomach started hurting again. I let him go ahead, and when I got to the next aid station, I paused to get ginger ale on ice, clutch my stomach. I left the aid station with the cup of iced ginger ale and walked for a little bit, sipping the drink. It sucked because I was walking this flat part across a meadow, but I just could not run. My stomach hurt too much.

Eventually, I felt well enough to run. I began running, and pushed myself to make up for lost time. I chatted with Norm, and with random ultrarunners.

I got to Camp Ten Bear, and Deirdre and Matt were amazingly positive. "You're ahead of your pace, you're doing wonderful." Matt sprayed sunscreen on me; I was just wearing a sports bra and running skirt at this point. It was too hot to wear anything else. They bought me an amazing fudge brownie and I chowed down. Yum. I drank another coconut water. I changed my socks and Matt insisted upon wiping the dirt from my feet - nicest friend ever. Best of all, I lost one pound - excellent for a day in the upper 80s! (Last year I had gained 5 pounds between Camp Ten Bear 1 & 2, and a lot of people usually lose weight with dehydration.)

I left Ten Bear feeling good. I ran with different people. It was sunny, it was hot, but I felt good. I enjoyed the scenery, chatting with strangers who became friends. I thought about how my life had changed since last year, how much I loved the sport of ultrarunning.

At Tracer Brook, Deirdre was there again with Matt, about to win most cheerful crew of the year award. They gave me more Power Gel Blasts, and I didn't think I'd see her until Camp Ten Bear, but she told me she'd be at Margaritaville. Matt would need to rest before running.

I pushed it. I felt strong. I ran as fast as I could. I never ran so many of the hills. When I had to walk, my pace kept slogging slow (despite trying to "walk with a purpose" like another ultrarunner told me at last March's Umstead 100 Miler), so whenever there was a "shallow" hill, I ran it. I passed a lot of people.

At every aid station, I asked for my bottle to be filled to the top with ice and then have water added. By the time I'd get to the next aid station, the ice would all be melted, and the water approaching lukewarm.

At Margaritaville, I chatted with the friendly, amazing volunteer, ate two chocolate chip cookies (and took one for the road; I wish I had taken more later on!). I gave Deirdre another hug, and drank another coconut water on ice.

 

About 50 meters after I left the aid station, my stomach went south. I headed behind the nearest tree. I began walking for a bit, and then slowly running. For almost a mile after I left the aid station, I felt awful.

And then I felt amazing. Hill? Ha. I'll run up you. Downhill - I'm speeding down. I felt so great, I ran so amazingly fast.

The next aid station had Capri Sun, Wild Cherry Flavour. It was amazing and so delicious and I think that should be a standard ultrarunning drink (along with coconut water!). Yum. 

I passed a bunch of people. Feeling great, I even started singing. I'm embarrassed, but it was a Pink song that dominated my run ("So What?") along with a Sarah McLeod song ("He Doesn't Love You"). I'm sure the runners I passed thought I was insane.

When I got to Camp Ten Bear, it was VERY unlike the year before (when it had been dark). Deirdre was shocked I came back so quickly ("You were so fast!") and Matt had just woken up. I drank another coconut water on ice (I drank a total of seven during the race, and they REALLY helped. They settled my stomach, gave me electrolytes, did not make my stomach feel "sloshy" like water or Heed does.), told them how my stomach had been hurting. 

I completely changed my outfit, grabbing a long-sleeved tshirt I never wore (but that helped with the awful chafing my fuel belt was giving me). My weight was stable with just one pound having been lost. I strapped on my head lamp, which I didn't really need until I almost got to West Winds.

I ate a bit of a grilled cheese sandwich. I grabbed more sports beans and Power Gel blasts, and pretzels. The race I mostly consumed just these items (and animal crackers, with the occasional random other thing). Matt and I took off.

Matt was a great pacer. He was super motivational, pushed me at times when I didn't want to be pushed, and was really genuinely enjoying himself. "This is so cool. How beautiful!" He identified trees, birds singing, owls. I told him stories from the race, dating stories, stuff about my life. He told me funny stories as well, including Boy Scout Camp stories. 

At West Winds/Spirit of 77, Deirdre was there with tons of energy. When we ran up to the aid station, they had white paper bags with candles in them. The aid station was decorated with fun red, white and blue lights and decor. I ate some animal crackers, drank half of a 5-hour energy shot, and we took off.

"My stomach hurts..."

Again, we did some walking. Matt entertained me with stories. At one point, we stopped to walk for a minute and Matt was like, "Let's run. It's a downhill." 

I replied, "My stomach hurts. I can't." 

"No, it's a downhill. Let's run." 

"NO! My stomach hurts. I CANNOT RUN!"

Matt pushed me so much. At one point, he simply said, "Buckle," and I pushed faster.

At one of the unmanned aid stations, Matt accidentally got me lemon-lime Heed. I only drink water WHILE running, and he ran over a quarter mile back to the aid station to get me water. Amazing.

Mile 88. Finally. I was out of it. I wasn't consuming enough calories because my stomach hurt, but again, I only lost 1 pound. I drank my another coconut water on ice. Matt wanted to continue on, but there was confusion about the car. It was agreed he'd meet us at 95.

Deirdre was super cheerful. We exchanged all sorts of stories, and hit some pretty tricky trails. At one point, we had to stop and wait for this woman and her horse to climb some stone wall, and the horse was really freaked out.

We saw beautiful stars. There was heat lightning in the distance which miraculously, never came close enough to us. 

I began hallucinating a little bit. I saw this big brown-and-white house that was only trees. I saw a deer. I saw a weird-looking man with a beard, lying down, hugging a tree. I saw a few other random things. It was nothing too crazy.

My stomach kept hurting on and off. Somehow, the Power Gel Blasts Matt and Deirdre packed for me didn't make it into my pockets...or they fell out. I kept being like, "But I wanted them! That's what I want to eat!" Deirdre tried to rationalize with me, "But eat something else. You don't have them. Have your jelly beans." 

was a little irrational - no, very irrational, and she was very patient.

At Mile 95, we met Matt. He started asking me what I wanted, and I said, "We gotta leave! NOW! WE ONLY HAVE AN HOUR AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES!" The previous year, that is what it had taken me to get to the finish from Polly's. I needed to run faster to get sub-24 hours, which is what I wanted more than anything else. They tried to calm me down, but I was insane. "I have to make it. I need to. I can't not make it!"

Matt gave me coconut water on ice, and I walked fast while drinking it. "More!" He looked confused and I grabbed it out of his hand. "I wanted more! Faster!" I was a little insane at this point. I chugged the coconut water, chewed on some ice and tossed the rest of the ice on the ground, and ran with the container and cup in my bra. Matt looked confused but didn't take offense.

We pushed it as fast as I possibly could, and Deirdre commented on how tricky some of the final trails were. "That's mean!" 

I felt awful. Matt had ran back to the car around Mile 97 so he'd be there at the finish. "Tell me a story. Distract me. Tell me a story!" I asked Deirdre. 

She couldn't think. "Uh...a minute...uhh...." 

"A story!" 

"I'm trying to think...I'm sorry!" 

"What did you do for your birthday?"

And that is how we discussed what Deirdre did for her birthday. 

I cannot begin to thank Matt and Deirdre enough for all they did for me. They were wonderful.

I pushed on, passing people. I'd think, "Buckle," and pick up the pace, even if we were on a hill.

And the one mile sign...and then the half mile sign....

And the finish. Victory was so sweet. Sub-24 hours! I raised my hands, I was so grateful and so happy. I was screaming, hugging, so full of joy and happiness. 

23:35:55!!!!!!!

 

I had worked so hard, wanted it so bad, and completed it. Iliana (who ran 40miles of the 100k) was now volunteering and put a medal around my neck. Tom took a photo of me for his "Before and After" photo project. I began exchanging stories with the other runners and volunteers. 

45% of the runners dropped out. It was in the upper 80s, humid. Some aid stations (the unmanned ones) were out of water/running out; many lacked ice. The heat messed with a lot of people's stomachs.

I think a few things pushed me to get a PR for this course of 5.5 hours:

Coconut Water

Matt & Deirdre's amazing help

My desire for revenge - I wanted to prove myself on this course!

The helpfulness of other runners - I lost my electrolyte pills twice and had strangers help me

The amazing, friendly volunteers

The beautiful scenery

Changing into shoes a half size bigger at Mile 70

Good songs in my head

Good cookies at Margaritaville and that brownie at Camp Ten Bear the first time

Tums

Lifesaver Mints

On the course:

Very well-marked

They weigh you the day before, at Mile 47.2, 70, 88 

The food at the aid stations is pretty decent - watermelon, chips (no pretzels!), m&ms, potatoes, bananas, oranges, plus some aid stations have homemade cookies (I LOVE Margaritaville), grilled cheese, burgers, sandwiches, more.

Nice volunteers

Great scenery

Hilly

Not too many technical trails

Lots of drop bags

Lots of aid stations

I'll be back for more. In fact, if I get into Western States 100 Miler next year, well, I think I'll have to sign up for the Grand Slam.