A collection of race reports and other writings of and about ultrarunning, trail running, and other running related topics with a strong focus on the East Coast. The "Beast Coast" has a strong trail running community and some amazing events; this blog aims to showcase some of that.
By the numbers, yesterday’s run wasn’t amazing for any reason. It wasn’t a tough work out. It wasn’t at a high intensity or a faster than normal pace. The distance wasn’t crazy long or even any farther than my average training run. I did not reach any significant milestones for the month, year, or the number of miles on my shoes. Barring all the things it was not, yesterday’s run was special. The numbers and data behind the run didn’t make it interesting or significant, but the feeling of it did. Which is exactly what I needed to feel ready and prepared for this weekend’s 24-hour trail race.
The day before after getting home from work I began to feel depleted, like my mind and body needed some time off. That isn’t the feeling I was hoping for halfway through my taper week leading up to what I expect to be a pretty hard effort for 24 hours. I caught myself sneeze a couple of times and my throat felt scratchy. I feared I may me getting sick as my son was still getting over a cold he picked up a couple of weeks ago. Waves of anxiety, panic, and anger all took turns floating to the surface of my emotions as I feared that this was going to be a repeat of my last race that I ended up running while still recovering from a cough/cold. That would most likely make this weekend’s race a total sufferfest. Although my wife has told me, “you’re the best sufferer,” that doesn’t mean that I seek out extra opportunities to suffer or actually enjoy it.
I decided that as soon as the kids’ extracurricular activities were over for the night, getting ready for bed and getting some rest was my number one priority. But shortly after we got home my son reminded me that we had run our 1 mile training run for the day yet. We had just started running a mile a day this week because he wanted to train for his school’s fitness challenge run. I honestly had forgotten about it for the night, but when he asked if I was ready, I couldn’t bail on him and say no. We got our headlamps and went out for our mile. Once finished, it was bedtime.
Yesterday didn’t seem like it was going to be a change in my mental outlook or physical health until I managed to get out for my run after getting home from work. My legs felt great! I was full of energy and truly happy to run after a day of feeling worn out. Most importantly though, it was the confidence booster I needed to be ready for a 24-hour effort. It resolved the taper week feelings of panic I was experiencing just the previous day. It set my headspace right to trust my training and know that I have done the work to be as prepared as possible for a challenging physical endeavor. It’s almost go time, and I am ready!
"Disclaimer: I received Nabee compression knee high socks (15-20 MMHG) to review as part of being a BibRave Pro. Learn more about becoming a BibRave Pro (ambassador), and check out BibRave.com to review, find, and write race reviews!"
I need to preface this product review by saying up front that the trial as a whole did not go as I had hoped. The reason is in no way a result of the quality or performance of the Nabee compression socks I received to test out, but entirely due to the quality and performance of the muscles in my left calf. Midway through the testing period (which was going swimmingly up to that point) I was forced to take an unwelcome hiatus from running due to a (self diagnosed) muscle strain in my left calf. As a result, my “test runs” with Nabee compression socks went from literal test runs to figurative “test runs” using Nabee compression socks as a means of recovery.
My common recovery view.
Even though it was only about a month ago, it feels like a different world today compared to when I first opened the package that contained my Nabee compression socks. Let’s take a trip back to that world. The most notable feature that jumped out to me the first time I tried them on was how easily they slipped on compared to other compression socks I’ve used. Likewise, they have also been far easier to take off. It may not sound like a huge issue, but I’ve worn other compression socks that felt like I was fighting the tidal forces of a black hole to pull them on. Nabee compression socks slipped on with almost no effort. This is an even bigger factor in ultrarunning events long enough to make it beneficial to have a sock and shoe change. It’s hard to describe how frustrating it is to struggle through a compression sock change after 40-60 miles of running when you’re already completely exhausted. Yet there you are, expending energy and straining to pull those knee high socks over swollen calves in hopes of feeling rejuvenated. Yes, it usually helps, but at a cost. The ease with which Nabee compression socks slip on and are removed gets you the benefits of the sock change without the cost of the struggle.
Still in place after 21 miles of running.
All of my runs wearing Nabee compression socks up until my injury were great! They were comfortable on my feet and allowed my toes to spread which I particularly look for in a sock. I can’t stand when a sock makes my toes feel like they are being forced to scrunch up together. The seamless toe of the sock made for extra comfort and zero blistering. The top cuff of the sock didn’t cause any irritation during my runs and always stayed in place without any readjustments. The longest test run I wore my Nabee compression socks for was my 21 mile birthday run (no, that’s not the run that I got injured during). They performed great and still not a single blister without any other preventative measures taken. The breathability of the fabric of the socks was especially appreciated during that long run. It was one of the warmer days of early spring, but having the extra coverage on my lower legs didn’t bother them or make them feel overheated at all.
After my 21 mile birthday one (preinjury).
I was loving the feel of my Nabee compression socks on my runs. Then during one fateful run I was sent on an unexpected detour. I wasn’t wearing my Nabee socks during this fateful run. It started off feeling fine. I found a one dollar bill on the ground about a half mile after leaving the house at which point I thought to myself “this is going to be a great run!” I was planning to hit some streets to add to my “Run Every Street” project. My legs felt a little sore to start but they started feeling good after about a mile. Then pretty suddenly I had a pain creep up on the back of my left calf. I figured it would just go away so I kept running. But it didn’t go away. It got worse. I walked a bit thinking it was just a cramp that needed to work itself out then I could run the rest of the way home. Unfortunately every time I tried to start running again the pain only got worse. I ended up hobbling about two miles home hoping that after a night of rest it would feel better.
Graph of my pace during the run that I incurred the injury during.
The next morning as I limped out of bed, I realized I was going to have a longer recovery period than one night. On a positive note, I had my Nabee compression socks to provide the “C” for my RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression, and Elevation). As I write this review it’s been about two weeks since my injury. I haven’t gotten back to running yet for fear of reaggravating the injury, but I am able to walk without a limp again and pain free so that’s an improvement. The comfort of the Nabee compression socks has been very much appreciated as they provide compression to help with my recovery. My only regret is that I got the super plain, boring black/grey design rather than one of the many festive designs that Nabee offers to improve my spirits while I’m not running.
“Remember, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”
- Stephen King - The Shawshank Redemption
Over just the past few weeks the situation regarding the coronavirus (COVID-19) outbreak has escalated from “just a hoax” to a global pandemic. As a result of policies dictated by governments worldwide, group gatherings and in person social interactions have been restricted to various degrees in an effort to slow the spread of the disease and avoid inundating health care institutions with a flood of patients requiring critical care beyond their capacities. The terms “flatten the curve” and “social distance” have become everyday common language.
With restricted group gatherings came race cancellations and indefinite postponements. It began with large marathons, smaller shorter distance races next, and finally trail races followed suit. It may seem a bit shallow to be concerned with race postponements and cancellations when people are dying due to a global pandemic, but running is more than just a hobby to many runners. The majority of their social relations may revolve around meeting up for group runs. Running may be an important part of their daily routine that motivates them for the start of the day or relaxes them at the end of the day. It can be the primary activity that keeps them focused, happy, or realigns them mentally. It can be a way of life. For me it’s a bit of all of those things.
So what is a runner who thrives on the camaraderie of group runs and the competition of races to do during these dark, uncertain days when all or a portion of one of their coping mechanisms may no longer be available to them. My best advice: maintain hope that this is temporary and all the aspects of running that we are currently missing will return. In the meantime while we wait out this indefinite period of social distancing, we can make the best of a challenging time and use the tools available to us to fill in some of the missing pieces. What options am I suggesting to replace racing and group runs? My short list includes virtual races, virtual group runs (Zwift), fastest known time (FKT) attempts, Strava king of the mountain (KOM) attempts, or your own personal run every street project.
I ran my first virtual race earlier this year, the 465 Challenge. It was basically an online challenge to finish as many 53 mile loops as you could running, biking, walking, hiking, or using any other self propelled means of travel during a two month period. I wasn’t a strong proponent of virtual races prior to running the 465 Challenge, but it did help get me motivated to pick up my training so I would be ready for my biggest running goal of 2020: to PR my longest distance run at my first 24 hour race. Unfortunately, I just received notice last week that the 24 hour race I intended to achieve this goal at was canceled to mitigate the spread of COVID-19. The race was scheduled for the end of April so it didn’t come as a surprise; I was basically just waiting for the announcement to be made. Actually receiving the announcement and reading it was still a bit depressing.
In my opinion, virtual races can’t replace actual, in person races. But maybe they’re better than no races. I’ve almost decided to register for a virtual race happening next weekend, the Quarantine Backyard Ultra (QBU). The format of the QBU follows the standard last person standing rules, but will use a Zoom meeting to let participants interact between laps. I think this race has the potential to be a lot of fun and to allow me to run a distance PR thereby achieving my top 2020 running goal. I just never imagined I would run my longest ever run while competing against other runners in a Zoom meeting.
Of my other suggestions, another I am making use of is progressing my project to run every street of Egg Harbor Township. I personally have found this to be a fun, long term goal to work towards. For me it adds a little spice to what may have been otherwise just a routine solo run. It may take a little extra planning at times or force you to slow your pace, but it is a project that will likely take you to places that you had never and may have never discovered otherwise. It also allows you to track your progress towards a goal. For those benefits, it is a project that I have found rewarding and am thankful I began.
So if race cancellations/postponements and a lack of group runs have got you down when you you’re already stressed, nervous, and/or sad from all of the other repercussions due to the COVID-19 global pandemic, I encourage you to try to find some solace in some of the offered suggestions. Keep your chin up and continue forward progress as we navigate this storm. And please, never lose hope.
Shortly after finishing the Hyner View Trail Challenge 50k last year, I made the decision to change up my race selections for 2020. It wasn’t because of how Hyner went or because I don’t want to run Hyner again. I love the Hyner 50k and definitely want to run it again, but the catch for me is that once I’m registered for Hyner I end up following the inevitable path of running the entire PA Triple Crown Series. I figure if I’m doing Hyner, I might as well run Worlds End 100k and Eastern States 100 as well. I decided the best way to avoid getting caught in that trap and change up my race schedule was to not register for Hyner 50k. I have nothing against any of those three races. It’s just that after three consecutive years of my race schedule revolving around the three same “A” races, I felt it was time for a change.
For 2020 I want to make my “A” race a 24 hour timed event. A 24 hour event has been on my to do list for a few years now, but never a high priority, so it never happened (hence one of my favorite quotes below). I hope to change that this year and see what I’m capable of achieving in a 24 hour race. If things go well at whatever 24 hour event I decide to run, I should be able to finally achieve a second running goal that has eluded me for the last two years: to PR my longest distance in a single run. I’m hoping that if I choose a 24 hour event with an easy course I will be able to average at least 12 minute miles or 5 mph for a total of 120 miles at the end of 24 hours. This will easily be my longest distance run as my current longest distance is finishing the Tesla Hertz 100 miler which was actually about 104.8 miles.
An additional goal for this year is to run another “last person standing” event. After running my first two events (Run Ragged) of that type last year and for the most part enjoying them while doing pretty well, I want to run some more of these types of events. Ultimately, I hope to get a chance to run at the original last person standing race, Laz’s Big’s Backyard. I realize it may not happen at all considering the growing popularity of those types of races, but I figure if I run races that build my running resume geared towards last person races it will better my odds to hopefully run at Big’s some day. Running Big’s Backyard definitely isn’t strictly a 2020 goal, but more of a long term goal to work towards year after year until it happens. In my opinion, it’s good to have the late game goals working in the background while having the short term goals mixed in to keep things interesting.
A non race related goal for 2020 is to run all the streets of my hometown, Egg Harbor Township, NJ. This goal was directly inspired by Rickey Gates’ project to run every single street in San Francisco. I started on this goal at the end of October this year with the intention of making it a longer term goal and hopefully completing it before the end of 2020. I’ve posted a couple blog posts specifically about this goal and plan to update with posts throughout the year as I make progress. You can get more details and background about the project from those posts (here and here), but the overall concept is just as the project name suggests, to run every single street of the town.
Another somewhat running related goal I have for this year is one just for fun: to run a Twinkie Weiner Sandwich Mile to celebrate the movie UHF. My plan is to do this the same way as I do the Annual Hot Dog Run every year, just with Twinkie weiner sandwiches in place of the hot dogs. If you’re not familiar with the Annual Hot Dog Run, just think beer mile with beer replaced by hot dogs. If you’re not familiar with UHF, go watch it. I plan to do this run either July 21st to celebrate the UHF release date or June 2nd in honor of Channel 62 (6-2), the focal point of the plot of the movie. If you have an opinion on which date is more appropriate, please vote!
My final running related goal for the year isn’t about any race I want to run or hitting a new running time or distance PR. It is to volunteer at a local race with my son and any of the other members of his scout troop that want to come along to help out. This is an idea/project that I had a while back, but have never acted on. I put it off for some time because I thought that he was a little young and having him and a few of his scouting friends volunteering at an aid station would be more of a hindrance than a help to the runners and the other aid station volunteers. I feel like he’s matured enough in the past few years to be able to handle some of the aid station tasks and at least help out and encourage some runners for a portion of a race if I stay with him to provide some guidance. I hope it happens and goes well as I see this as being a great fit for service projects for scout troops. The scouts get to help others stay fit and enjoy the outdoors responsibly while also contributing to another community (trail runners) that values the outdoors and our shared public natural areas. If you’ve brought kids to volunteer at a race, I’d love to hear about how it went for you and would greatly appreciate any kind of tips and advice you can provide that would have improved the experience.
2020, sure to be another great year as a BibRave Pro!
2020 Goals
Run at least one 24 hour event
PR longest distance in a single run (>104.8 miles)
Complete my "Run Every Street" of Egg Harbor Township project
Nobody will protect you from your suffering. You can't cry it away or eat it away or starve it away or walk it away or punch it away or even therapy it away. It's just there, and you have to survive it. You have to endure it. You have to live through it and love it and move on and be better for it and run as far as you can in the direction of your best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by your own desire to heal.
Going into Worlds End (WE) 100k this year my head was not in a good place for both personal life reasons and running related reasons. Advanced warning before you get too far into reading this report, as I begin to write it I fear it will sound like I’m whining and will get into some nonrunning related issues in my life. If you want a more Worlds End running focused report check out my 2017 and 2018 reports. Otherwise if you’re somewhat intrigued with a poor mental state leading up to a race and a lesson learned from it, by all means continue reading. For multiple reasons to be explained, I was battling a lack of motivation, questioning my abilities, and suffering from an overall rather pessimistic outlook in general.
The day before at registration.
I’ll start with the running issues that contributed to me having a bit of lack of motivation and confidence leading up to WE. I was feeling pumped based on my two most recent races before WE. I ran my best time after three attempts at Hyner 50k and a week later I ran a road marathon PR at the NJ Marathon. With basically just a month between the NJ Marathon and WE I planned to do an easy recovery week, ramp up with a decent training week, get in a quality 20ish mile long run, then ease into a taper. Things went as planned up until that quality 20ish mile long run. I got in my 20 mile long run, but it by no means felt like a quality run. My legs felt heavy from the start, I felt tired and sluggish for the entire run, and I struggled to maintain what I felt like should have been an easy pace for flat, nontechnical trails. So I did the only logical thing I could do, I did a 20 mile road run the following weekend expecting it to be much faster and to feel much better about myself going into WE. That follow up long run did not go as planned either. I felt better and was slightly faster (20.08 miles in 2:49:41 versus 20.0 miles in 2:59:27), but the small pace improvement and still not feeling strong while achieving it did very little to improve my confidence.
With back to back weekends of disappointing long runs behind me, the next weekend I followed the most logical course of action: I asked for advice from a retired Olympic trampolinist (aka my brother in law). After talking about training cycles, building, peaking, and my lack of all of those things much less a training plan, he said I should just rest the last week before WE. I took that advice and did not run at all for an entire week before WE. I had never tapered that hard before, so I was extremely nervous not even having a couple easy paced short runs the week leading into WE. It also didn’t help improve my confidence at all, but as my brother in law was suggesting, the training and endurance are already there, my body just needs a break to recuperate before being pushed again.
Now to go over the non running issues that were contributing to my less than ideal mental state for the start of WE. I shouldn’t say issues, as it was more so a singular work related issue. For the most part I’m usually pretty good about not letting work frustrations bother me outside of work, but given this situation I could not let it not bother me. In an attempt to not make this a long, drawn out complaining post, I will try to sum up the main points of the situation quickly. Basically, I was offered a temporary detail promotion because the manager of our office had been reassigned to a one year detail. Not long after accepting I was told the position didn’t exist and so I could not have the promotion but I could still do the additional duties that came along with the promotion. Not such a good deal. Not long after that development the temporary detail position was advertised and two other employees from other offices were selected for the three and four month temporary acting manager details. The motivating factors that went into the decision making are still unknown to me. Being passed over for a temporary promotion that I was told doesn’t exist after I had unofficially been doing the additional duties of that position for four months was enough to make me update my resume and start job searching, but not do anything crazy like quit on the spot. Anyway, that’s enough non running stuff to explain why my head was out of sorts.
The view from my cozy car camping.
To add to my disappointment just before the race, my family had a last minute change of plans for the race weekend. We had planned to make an extended camping trip out of this race weekend with our neighbors who have kids that are friends with ours coming along for the trip. I had been telling my family and theirs about how great Worlds End State Park is and how nice the camp sites are for two years. I had finally convinced them to come along for a camping trip and 100k trail run. Unfortunately, the weather reports for extended thunderstorms and rain for the entire weekend caused our neighbors to fear that it would be a miserable weekend for camping so they bailed on us. I got the news Thursday afternoon when I arrived home from work. Making the blow sting even worse, my family decided to back out as well since their friends wouldn’t be coming along. In a flash my weekend went from running an awesome, scenic 100k with my friends and family there to cheer me on and celebrate with afterwards to just me taking off for the weekend.
Between the poor long training runs, last minute plan changes, and the professional life disappointments I was feeling confused, cynical, and worthless which is not a good way to start an ultra. Regardless of the outcome, I showed up even if my attitude about it was pretty crappy. I tried to convince myself that I was excited for it and that even if things weren’t going well in my professional life I at least still had ultramarathons as an escape, but when I woke up the morning of the race after a night of camping the initial thought I had was “time to get this over with.” Not the best mindset to start a gueling 15ish hour endeavor, but I had faith that once I became immersed in the trail running things would start to feel right.
Just before the finish!
Makes it all worthwhile!
For the most part, that’s exactly what happened. I tried to turn on autopilot and just run the course basically the same way I did in 2018, going out at a comfortable pace while taking in plenty of calories and not blowing up. Pretty much everything fell into place. The course didn’t completely cooperate, but it didn’t bother me. It had been wet leading up to the race and the course had long stretches of extremely sloppy, swampy areas. It reminded me of the conditions from my first time at WE in 2017. That year it really got to me because every stretch of trail that looked runnable ended up being a sloppy mess and I was not able to get into any kind of rhythm. This year was different. Even though the conditions were similar, I managed to still move in a way that felt efficient and consistent. I felt strong on the climbs, my stomach never felt upset, and I was never completely exhausted. It was almost a perfect repeat of last year based on performance, only slightly faster as I finished in 14:11:21 compared to my 14:18:47 finish last year.
I mentioned at the beginning that there was a lesson learned for me from this whole experience. It wasn’t about how important thinking positively going into an ultra is because I was pretty negative going into this one and still executed better than last year. The lesson for me was that ultramarathons or running in general can’t always be used as an escape from other issues in my life. Or maybe more accurately, ultras and this silly hobby of mine will not resolve other life challenges. I went into this race with a bad attitude. Then the race was going well and I had a great time. I felt even better when the outcome was an improvement over last year. But afterwards all of the circumstances that had caused my mental anguish had not changed. I had just lowered the amount of attention I allowed them for a few days. This may be kind of a sour note to end a report of a positive race on, but that is how this chapter of this ultra season ended for me.
“A lot of people decry competition as a negative thing. It’s not. You come to love your competitors because you’ve been through this hell together. You don’t want your competitors to quit, but you need them to quit. These things are going on in your head at the same time. That’s a little bit evil. A total mindfuck, runners say.”
-- Gary Cantrell aka Lazarus Lake
Forty-two. It is the "Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything", at least according to Douglas Adams in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It was also the number of runners that arrived to run the inaugural Run Ragged on June 13th in Berlin, CT at the Ragged Mountain Trailhead. Maybe it’s a bit of a coincidence in a sense because I’ve found that longer distance ultras are an excellent means for me to believe I’ve found the "Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything", at least at the wee hours of the morning after exhaustion sets in and my fragile mind starts getting somewhat loopy.
The event was a slight twist on the last person standing race format made explosively popular recently by Courtney Dauwalter and Johan Steene’s amazing performances (279.168 and 283.335 miles respectively) at the 2018 Big Backyard Ultra hosted by the evil genius Gary Cantrell aka Lazarus Lake. The race format requires runners to complete a 4.166667 mile loop in under an hour. The beauty of the rather seemingly random distance is that in exactly 24 hours you’ll have run exactly 100 miles. Sounds pretty easy so far, but every hour the race restarts and all runners must do it again and again and again until all but one runner remains. The last runner to finish one lap more than any other runner becomes the sole winner; all other runners receive a big fat DNF (Did Not Finish). Is it fair? Maybe not. Could it be soul crushing? Maybe so, but that is how the race format works. In fact, there could be no winner at all if a final group of runners goes out and none of them make it back before the one hour cut off.
The RDs of Run Ragged added a few twists to the format making it a bit unique amongst the abundant crop of so many new races that have popped up recently which are nearly exact replicas of the Big Backyard Ultra format. Where the traditional format uses a daylight trail loop and a night road course, Run Ragged used a single trail loop for its entirety. Most last person standing races use a relatively easy 4.166667-mile-long course. Run Ragged opted for a more challenging 5k loop. It was a shorter distance, but from what I’ve heard of other last person standing events the terrain and elevation gain (≈ 500’ per lap) made it a tougher course. While a good portion of the Run Ragged course was runnable, it was not easy or mindless running. The more runnable sections were broken up by technical stretches, short and steep climbs, and some tricky descents.
Just before the start.
The Run Ragged course is made up entirely of the New England Trail (NET) and NET side/connector trails. The NET was designated a National Scenic Trail in March of 2009. The course starts at the Ragged Mountain Preserve trailhead following the red/blue Ragged Mountain Preserve trail for about 0.78 miles. Then just before turning onto the yellow/blue Ragged Mountain Preserve trail you are treated to a pretty welcome vista overlooking Lower Heart Pond. This stretch of trail is roughly about 0.85 miles and in my opinion seemed to be the most technical and unrunnable stretch of the course. After that you hop onto section 15 of the NET for about 1.52 miles. The course wraps up by following the orange/blue Ragged Mountain Preserve trail for the last 0.68 miles. Now I know what you’re probably thinking, “That equals a total of 3.83 miles! You said it was a 5k loop!” Let me explain. These distances are based on the trail map on the Ultrasignup registration page. The NET trail map itinerary page confirms the distances of the yellow/blue and orange/blue trails, but the course only uses short portions of the other two trails so their distances can not be confirmed there. My gps data was pretty close to what the RD had said, that it is a 5kish loop so rather than going round in circles indefinitely (pun intended) over this topic, I’ll leave the discussion of distances there.
Map from the Run Ragged registration page.
First things first, let’s get the obvious on the table. A last person standing event is nothing like a normal race. In fact, after running this one as my first I even question calling it a race at all. I first became interested in the format when I listened Billy Yang’s interview of Guillaume Calmettes following his win at the 2017 Big Backyard Ultra. Then after following Courtney and Johan’s epic battle in 2018 I felt I needed some of that in my life. I applied for the 2019 Big Backyard Ultra and so did many other more qualified ultrarunners. I was disappointed to not even make the waitlist, but thankfully many last person standing events starting popping up all over. I figured that if I ever want to be selected to run at the Big Backyard Ultra inTN, the best way to do it is to earn a spot there by building my resume. So I jumped into the most local last person standing event I could find, Run Ragged with every intention of being the last person standing. I know I’m not the most talented runner out there and I don’t follow a strict training plan or specific diet. But I can be extremely rigid and single minded once I have my mind set to something and I hate the idea of giving up or quitting. The way I saw it, these qualities may give me a distinct advantage over far more talented and better trained runners than myself so why not just go all in?
Another finish to an early lap.
The start of the race was strange. The 5k loop was easy to do within the allotted hour at a relaxed pace even with the technical single track and the elevation change. I didn’t push myself to get it done faster than I had to and was getting it done comfortably in about 45-50 minutes during all of the daylight hours. My strategy was to do as little damage to my body as possible early on so I could last as long as possible. This meant not exerting myself if it wasn’t necessary. It meant being careful of foot placement with every step to minimize impact and avoid any unnecessary damage to my feet to curtail foot pain in the later stages. With this strategy in my head, my mind was on the long game. Mentally I was already wondering if this would go into a second overnight run and was telling myself to be ready for it if it did. With the 10 minutes or so that I had between laps I spent my time taking selfies, refueling, and rehydrating. I ate a mix of real food (whatever was available at the aid station: Doritos, pizza, rice soup, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grilled cheeses, oranges, etc.) and Science In Sport isotonic gels. For hydration, I mainly drank the Skratch that was provided at the aid station, but I also brought some iced coffees and coconut water to treat myself to a little variety of refreshments.
One of the earlier starts when it was done to just three.
I felt this early strategy served me well, but it was hard to reel myself in. A few laps I did run a bit faster, but when I got back and spent more time in my chair I didn’t like waiting around to go back out. So I decided then that I would move slowly and consistently rather than race around just to wait to race again. The race format was messing with me even early. It felt like a super mellow group run for the first 10 hours or so. You’d go out, run comfortably with a few people chatting it up then sit down and refresh for a few minutes before doing it all again. Often, it would be with an entirely new group or you’d have one or two new additions to your group. Rarely did I find myself alone or stressed before the sunset. Yet that overall mellow and carefree facade was just a cover that this relentless monster of a race format uses to lull you in to a serene mindset that will likely be your demise as it continues and ultimately reveals itself as the cruel beast it is. As a cynic, I knew this and never trusted this race format for what it appeared to be near the start. I checked my watch more often during this race than any other race I’ve ever run (other than the 2017 Batona 50 where my watch crapped out on me). I decided early that I would not get sucked into its false sense of security.
The "Three Amigos", me with my bananas.
And that’s basically how day one went, from 9 AM until sundown. The only other stand out moment I feel I should mention happened during one of the midday starts. As everyone was heading out after the whistle blew we were passing by a family that had been out for a trail walk and stuck around to watch the start of a “race”. A young rather perplexed looking girl in the family watched all the runners shuffle by, many with either an Icee pop or slice of pizza in their hands. “This is a race?!” she exclaimed in a baffled tone as we passed. That single phrase and how she said it had me laughing for a good part of the next lap.
Heading out again.
Then it became dusk, headlamps came out, and soon after we were into the night running portion of this competition. My pace and strategy didn’t really change much over night. I was kinda looking forward to the night portion of the race because I hadn’t run through the night since my last 100 miler (Mines of Spain) back in October. There’s something about running through the night on trails with nothing but your headlamp to light your way that I love. I love how it is a release from all of my normal day to day worries. When I’m trail running through the night all that matters is forward motion and getting to where I’m going. My entire universe reaches only as far as the light from my headlamp. The other reason that I was looking forward to the night was because I assumed that’s when more runners would start dropping and I’d be able to edge closer to a win. This turned out to be true and I found myself alone on the trail more and more often as the night went on.
The aid station at the start of the event.
For the first mile on one lap overnight I decided I would keep pace with the dwindling lead pack as they went out from the start. After that mile, I said to myself “No more of that. My strategy seems to be serving me well, why change it now?” Not that I knew if my strategy was better, but I wanted to find out how long I could last without risking blowing myself up. The only other highlight from overnight that I want to point out was the volunteer that was stationed as the overlook cliff guard from about 8 PM to 4 AM. This dude was full of energy and had Coke and Mountain Dew shots lined up for us every time we passed. He had a cowbell to ring leading up to his station and a cymbal to hit as you were exiting. He was an aid station hype man and just what ultrarunners need during those low points at the wee hours of the morning. He even hyped up a midnight drink special he had planned for us. It turned out to be apple cider vinegar with a sprinkle of cayenne pepper, I think? It doesn’t sound good, but it was oddly refreshing at the time.
Preparing to head out again.
After 52.7 miles and 17 hours we were down to four runners by the early hours of the morning. As daylight broke I realized how many runners we had lost overnight and how few runners remained. Then three laps later after the sun had risen we lost one more. It was now down to the final three. The three of us would continue to battle mentally and physically with ourselves and with one another for nearly another 50k before anyone finally gave in. During those nine laps the three of us all went out together. I can’t speak for where the other two were mentally, but I was feeling isolated for a good part of those laps. The other two runners were more local, had a girlfriend/wife with them (at some point), and seemed to at least be running friends with some of the volunteers. I went solo to this race and it was my first race in CT so I was meeting all of these people for the first time. In my mind at the time that seemed like a huge advantage for the other two runners. Especially when a volunteer started reading Facebook posts from their trail running group rooting for the two of them. It was hard not to feel like an outsider in that moment. But a few people that I had just met less than 24 hours earlier stepped up and gave me encouragement. One person in particular who I had only chatted with online a few times previously went out of their way after their final lap to let me know they were betting on me to win this thing. It may have not seemed like much to that person at the time, but at some of my lowest, loneliest moments it helped keep me going.
Brushing my teeth has never felt better.
My absolute lowest point of the race was the 25th lap. After 24 hours of running without sleep and not having a finish line in sight, it all started to catch up with me. The other two guys were both consistently finishing their laps faster than me and had more time to regroup between laps where as my pace had slowed and I was typically coming in with about five minutes to spare. Mentally it was wearing on me and I began to think it was only a matter of time until I didn’t make a cut off. Before the one mile mark of that lap I almost turned around and walked back to the start to quit. But I didn’t. I figured I’m almost a mile out, I might as well finish this lap before I quit. As I passed the new cliff guard volunteer I announced that this would likely be my last lap. She tried to encourage me, but I didn’t pay it much attention. I decided to call my wife to tell her I was ready to take my first DNF. After a short conversation with her I agreed to finish this lap and to keep finishing laps until I got timed out. Talking to her and my two sons lit a bit of a fire in me for the remainder of that lap and I moved well until I got back to the restart. Then it was mostly lows again. At one point I actually sat down on a log that was across the trail and told myself that if I sat there long enough I wouldn’t be able to make it back in time and I would be able to quit without saying I quit. But I got off of that log and ran it in before the cut off. Some of this mental anguish may have been due to nutrition as none of the aid station food was sounding good anymore and I hadn’t eaten much real food since the soup in the early hours of the morning. Thankfully I guess I started to recognize this and fixed it by devouring bananas, leaving every start with a banana in my hand and sometimes with one in my water bottle pocket as well.
And again...
At every break between laps I would try to size up the other two guys. They were both getting more recovery time between laps and neither were showing any signs of quitting as hard as I looked for them. Which is why it was so unexpected when one of them (Joseph Nuara) finally threw in the towel after 29 hours and 89.9 miles. It nearly brought me to tears when he said he was done, but once I started running the next lap it gave me a spark. It was now down to two. As we headed out for or first lap as the final two I told the other runner (Matt Pedersen) that however this thing ends, it’s been real. I wasn’t sure if we were playing mind games with one another or just chatting anymore, but Matt and I were talking about this race continuing into another night and whether we would be able to continue to do the loop in under an hour after dark. I wanted to show him it wouldn’t be a problem for me so I picked up the pace on that lap and came in with over 10 minutes to spare. It began to rain again as we went back out for our next lap and then it rained heavier. I continued my faster pace wanting to convince him that the last faster lap wasn’t just a fluke. Surprisingly, he slowed way down for this lap and I finished before him for the first time. I was convinced he did it just to mess with my head and was going to come in just a minute or two before the cut off to make me think it was nearly over when it wasn’t.
An early photo of the overlook at Lower Heart Pond.
He came in with about eight minutes to spare then sat down in his chair like normal. I was going through my normal routine of drinking water and taking in calories when Matt came over from his chair and said the words "take your victory lap". Without thinking, I immediately got up and gave him a hug. I could try to express the emotions I felt right then in my own words, but I believe Cantrell said it best already: “A lot of people decry competition as a negative thing. It’s not. You come to love your competitors because you’ve been through this hell together. You don’t want your competitors to quit, but you need them to quit. These things are going on in your head at the same time. That’s a little bit evil. A total mindfuck, runners say.” The relief and strangely the disappointment when I finally knew there was an end in sight was a surprisingly emotional experience and overwhelming; I couldn't hold back tears and had to wipe my eyes a few times and recompose myself before heading out for my final lap. A few minutes later when Matt counted me down to go out for my final lap I was all smiles. I recall excitedly telling everyone how I was finally going to run this course. Knowing that the finish line was there gave me a burst of energy that I had no idea was still available to me. That last lap (39 min.) was my fastest of the 32 laps (99.2 miles) that I ran during the entire event.
This was the start of the first lap with only two left, just after Joe counted us down and sent us on our way.
I’ve probably gone on longer than I should have already for this race report, but I like to close all of my race reports with some kind of take home message or a lesson learned. Here are the words I wrote just before 6 AM Monday morning after the race when I arrived home with only four hours of sleep since the finish. After rereading this post, I still feel like this sums the event up pretty well.
“After a four hour drive broken up by a four hour nap in the car at a rest area parking lot on the garden state parkway all following a 32ish hour "running" competition, I brought this baby home. A beautifully crafted momento of an event that will be hard to recap into words. But now, while they are fresh and raw I have the main takeaways from this race: 1 - it was the first race that I have ever had to deal with the pressure of chasing cut offs, which is a completely different feeling than failing to meet your self imposed time goals; 2 - it was the first race during which I seriously contemplated dropping for extended periods and was on the verge of dropping on several occasions; 3 - it was the first race that has ever brought me to tears. I was close to tears when Joe dropped, but the relief when Matt said the words "take your victory lap" and I finally knew there was an end in sight was overwhelming and I couldn't hold them back. So many thanks to the RDs, race organizers, the CT Trailmixers, emergency personnel, and all the volunteers that made this an amazing experience for so many. All of us runners are in your debt. Now it is time for a long overdue shower beer!”
“Your movement, your effort is a pinnacle of what you can do”
-- Joe Grant
The Twisted Branch 100k is a 64ish mile trail race that makes use of the extensive Finger Lakes Trail system to provide a point to point course from Naples, NY to Hammondsport, NY. The course offers just a small sample of the Finger Lakes Trail system as the trail network in its entirety covers over 950 miles of trail. The trail system is managed by the Finger Lakes Trail Conference (FLTC) and maintained primarily by volunteers. With that in mind, I want to begin this race report with a huge thank you to the FLTC and all of the volunteers who have given their time to build and maintain these trails for me and so many others like myself to enjoy. Your work is truly very much appreciated.
Having never hiked or ran any of the Finger Lakes Trails before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I tried doing a little research before by searching for images and videos of the trails and reading a few race reports from previous years of the TB100k. All the images and videos I could find made the trail look pretty runnable. Nothing I found made it look anywhere near as challenging as the Worlds End 100k course which is the only other 100k I had previously run so I was using that as my basis for comparison. Comparing the course records for the two races (10:14 for TB100k and 11:37 for WE 100K) seemed to support my conclusion that Twisted Branch should be a faster 100k than Worlds End. The race reports I read made me question this conclusion as they often described the trails as rugged and tough. Several of the reports told accounts of chasing cut offs and missing cut offs. In talking with others who had run the course, I often heard it described as tricky, which perplexed me a bit as a course description. I decided to cautiously rely more heavily on the hard numbers of the course records and trail photos as evidence that TB 100k would be a less challenging course than WE and that as long as I a have a good day I would be able to finish the course faster than WE.
Camping Area at the Start.
I began checking weather forecasts about a week out as I do for every race and found that most forecasts were predicting rain for nearly the entire weekend. As race day got closer, the forecasts changed a bit and were only predicting rain over night before the race and during the AM hours of race day. I planned accordingly and packed my drop bag with dry socks and a dry pair of shoes and labeled it for “The Lab” aid station which would be just before the halfway point and hopefully after the rain had stopped. With a plan in place which could not possibly fail, I was ready for race day.
There was a light drizzle of rain as we set up our tent at the camping area near the starting line, but not a full on rain as I thought we might be in for. The registration area was a bit more crowded than most ultras I’ve run. It was also one of the few that I’ve been to that have vendor tables. Altra, Darn Tough Socks, and couple others were there. After picking up my swag bag, having my pre race photo taken, and chatting with the Altra rep for a bit, it was time for the mandatory pre race meeting where the Race Director, Scott Magee, went over race information and safety precautions. Shortly after the remaining daylight began fading quickly so I helped get the kids ready for bed and than put myself to bed in hopes of getting some good sleep before the early 4 AM race start.
Camping Area at the Start
My alarm went off and woke me from a dead sleep, from dreams that I can’t remember. This is a good thing. That means that I slept well. I went through my standard race morning prep: lube (I tried using Squirrel’s Nut Butter for the first time as I got a sample at registration) the feet and areas that chafe, take two Imodium pills, eat two peanut butter sandwiches, and try to poop. With my race morning ritual complete, I headed to the starting area and finished the final check in. I ran into one running buddy at the starting area who was pacing for someone at the race, but otherwise I didn’t see many of the other familiar faces I’ve come to expect at PA trail races. We chatted a bit about the course and how neither of us had much of any kind of idea of what to expect. After a few minutes, the RD began a final pre race announcement and the race was on.
My Friend, Royce
The course starts out on trail just wide enough to run two abreast, but the trail quickly narrows to single track. Starting out the day cautiously, I didn’t want to push too hard to get ahead early and ended up in a bit of a conga line somewhere in the middle of the pack. My initial impression of the trails were that they are somewhat technical with a good deal of exposed roots that were slick due to the wet conditions, but they were completely runnable in my opinion. I began questioning early on if I was taking it too easy to start as the conga line was hiking many of the short and not too steep climbs that I thought were runnable. For better or worse, I reigned in my ego and only passed any other runners when another runner near me decided to make a pass. This meant I was not alone at all until the I reached the first aid station (Cutler) at 6 miles. I ate a gel and shoved one in my vest for later and continued on. Shortly after the first AS, the course hopped onto the first paved road portion of the course. At this point runners began to spread out a bit which I was thankful for because it was feeling a bit congested to me on the tight single track having a runner immediately in front of and behind me for the first six miles.
It's all business at the aid stations.
After about a half mile of road we were back on the trails. I was with a group of about four other runners, two of whom were the lead females who spent the next stretch of trail trading the lead with one another. It was at about this time that the sky really opened up and the rain started to fall. The sun was just starting to rise, but it was still awfully dark on the trails with the stormy skies and shadows from the forest blocking the majority of the light. The miles began to pass quickly and quietly with this group in the rain until somewhere shortly after aid station 3 that I found myself running all alone on a paved road. It was here at about the 17 mile mark that I clicked off some faster road miles with what felt like minimal effort that I started thinking about race strategy. I looked at the race the way a wise ultrarunner that I met and ran with for a good part of the course this year and last at Worlds End. He broke the 100k distance in roughly 20 mile sections and tackled them individually. He explained it as having a plan for each section. For me this meant taking the first third of the race easy. At this point in the day I felt I had achieved that and my legs were still feeling good. I figured the next 20ish miles I would push the pace a bit and then the last 20 I would try to maintain and see what’s left at the end.
While the Rain Was Falling
Employing this strategy, I ran the 10 miles or so at what felt like a harder effort. At that point I reached aid station 5, “The Lab”, where my dry shoes and socks were waiting. While changing and thinking about how great my feet would feel after being soggy for the last three hours or so, a volunteer reminded me that they would likely get soaked again. Not what I wanted to hear, but true nonetheless. I headed out from the aid station enjoying my dry feet for the moment. It was probably only a matter of one to two miles before a road crossing that had a small river running along the side of it that was uncrossable without going ankle deep. Shortly after that the course rounded the edge of a corn field where my feet sank just short of ankle deep in the soaked ground. The dry clean socks were glorious while they lasted.
After the Rain... You Live Again!! (You know you just sang that Nelson song)
Even with wet feet, I was still feeling good for the next 13 miles or so to aid station 7, “Bud Valley”. I passed a few runners in that stretch which is always a bit of a mental boost. Even more of a mental boost was that my wife and kids were waiting at this aid station to support me. I spent a little more time than normal at this aid just to get a hug from the wife and kids, but moved out trying to pick up the pace a bit as my wife informed me that the last runner had just left the aid station a few minutes earlier. The second half of a longer distance race is the part that I find most enjoyable. Yes, it will likely be far more painful than the first half, but if you start your race with the middle of the packers and race conservatively until the second half you begin to see the carnage the distance inflicts on the runners that went out too hard. Even if you’re hurting a bit, when you pass another runner at the 37 mile mark who still has about a marathon distance to go and looks half dead already, it makes your situation seem far more manageable. It motivates me to push to catch the next runner who went out too hard and blew up 20 miles from the finish. It’s not the right strategy for every runner and to each their own, but for me running a smart first half and trying to close the second half strong has worked out pretty well.
The Finish Arch
I felt like I was chasing this runner who had “just left” AS 7 forever. One aid station and about 10 miles later I finally caught sight of him. He was climbing the last big gain before aid station 9, “Lake David”, at about mile 50. He was climbing strong and at this point my quads were starting to feel the wear of all of the small and short climbs throughout the middle section of the course. I was motivated to catch him though as I hadn’t seen any other runners since AS 5. After the climb the course drops you out into a clearing around a large lake with the aid station on the opposite side of the lake. I circled the lake chasing him and trying to look like I wasn’t tired after just redlining it on that climb. He got into the aid just before me and barely even stopped. Although I didn’t pass through as quickly as this guy I was chasing, there were a couple other runners (or a runner and pacer, not sure) in the aid station as we passed through which helped keep me from feeling too bad about watching this guy I’ve been chasing down for the last two hours breezing through the aid station.
I was a bit demoralized at this point as the guy I chased for so long was out of sight again leaving the aid station, but I realized I had less than 15 miles until the finish and my legs felt ok still. I knew that if there was any time to push it now was that time. I turned to the words of my 4 and 6 year old boys the night before for encouragement. The younger of the two told me to win the race. I had responded with it being unlikely, but I would do my best. My older boy told me to get in the top five. Having no idea what place I was in at the time, but knowing that I’ve been only gaining places since starting off with the mid-packers I fantasized that a top five finish may be possible. But it would only be possible if I pushed hard for the remainder of the race. I did something I usually don’t do during races and put my headphones in and turned on some music. I immediately felt an increase in energy. I started cranking out some faster miles immediately. Within minutes I passed another runner who had blown up. A few minutes after that I finally caught the guy I had been chasing on a downhill stretch of fire road. I told him that I had found my third wind after turning on some music and he gave me a pat on the back as I passed him. Not too long after that my headphones started crapping out on me. Not wanting to fight with them and get pissed off about it, I just took them off and put them away. From there on I had a new mantra: “honest effort”. I didn’t know what place I was in and I didn’t want to get passed by anyone so at every little incline or climb where I began to think that it would be nice to take a break from running and hike this I told myself to give an honest effort to run it before resorting to hiking. And with that mantra I did not stop running for much.
And now time to recover.
I spent more time at the second to last aid station than I wanted to just because the volunteers there were so cheerful and fun. I was in a bit of a goofy state of mind, but managed to push myself through after a pic (which I would love to see) of me giving a two thumbs up rating for the awesome course. I reached the final aid station, “Urbana”, without any runners catching me which was now my greatest fear. I drank coke and ate a gel which was my standard aid station routine at this point. It was a busy aid station with lots of spectators which was great to motivate me for the last big climb of the race which followed immediately after. After what was probably the steepest and most continual climb of the course I finally became frustrated. It wasn’t the fact that my dry shoes got soaked after only a mile or so. It wasn’t that tough climb just six miles from the finish. It was all of the little climbs between that final big climb and the finish. For the last four miles or so of this race it feels like the trail just messes with you and takes you up and down the same hillside. Maybe it was due to the nearly 13 hours of running previously, but I did not enjoy the last four miles of this course until I exited the trail to see the final road crossing and the finish line on the other side. Maybe that’s just the “tricky” part of this course.
Me Looking Disappointed at My Beat Up Feet
At the finish I got to give a big high five to my son who was perched on the bridge just before the finish line. I finished in 12:56:21 (which was only good enough for 8th place, apologies to my sons), well under my goal time of 14 hours. In retrospect, maybe my goal time wasn’t challenging enough. But when you’re running a course that is completely unfamiliar, it’s easy to misjudge. I am definitely guilty of that with my first crack at Worlds End where I severely underestimated how much the difficulty of the course would slow down my pace. While the Twisted Branch course was definitely not as technical as Worlds End, I’m not saying it is an easy course. There is still nearly as much elevation gain (10,458’ at TB and 12,091’ at WE) according to my Strava data. In my opinion, it was the road sections of the TB course that really improved my overall pace. When you can crank out some sub 9 minute miles on a rolling downhill paved road it’s going to increase that average pace even if there’s only about 5 road miles on the course. I kinda enjoyed the road sections to break up the course a bit also. It felt good to be able to just open it up a little and not worry about footing for a break every once in awhile. Another item that set this race apart from others was the Excel pacing tool provided on the website. This amazing Excel sheet was the most useful pace planning tool I have ever experienced. I may be a bit more impressed by it than most just because I'm a bit of a spreadsheet nerd, but I encourage you to play with it and then tell me it's not cool. On top of all of this, the finish area was awesome with great food (the burritos and broth were amazing) and a local brewery (The Brewery of Broken Dreams) had kegs of an IPA and stout. All in all, I highly recommend checking out Twisted Branch if you’re in the market for a 64ish mile adventure. And this just in, I recently heard that Twisted Branch is now a Western States qualifier race. So if that's your jam, here's another Beast Coast option.
