First, I'm already putting the Vermont 100 on my calendar for next year, and blocking out at least two months beforehand for training. No "races as training runs," just focused training for this race. I know I have the ability to finish this race. I do. I'd never been to this area before, hadn't dealt with the long climbs/descents of this race, and now that I've seen the course (or at least part of it), I can go forward with confidence that as long as there isn't another heat wave anomaly of a weekend, I've got this. And even if there is a heatwave.
Second, I'm learning from each race. Training, nutrition, hydration, crew...I've been wary of asking for help in the past, but no more. This is a tough thing, running 100 miles. I'll gladly take the help, and my crew/pacer team of Peggy and Steve Edwards were awesome. I'll back them anytime they'll have me!
Lastly, I loved everything about this race: the history (31 years and counting, and last human/horse simultaneous Ultra, which was so friggin' cool! Horses on the course!!!), the course itself, which was stunningly gorgeous at every turn, and above all, the people! The RD, Amy Rusiecki, and her incredible team of volunteers, deserve the biggest round of applause of all. They were scrambling all day and night to make sure that every runner was taken care of, was safe in the dangerous weather, and felt as if they were a VIP that day. I never felt truly alone out there, as their course monitors would swing by to check on runners frequently.
So here's the recap:
I survived the lottery and got in! In April, I ran the Jack Bristol Lake Waramaug 50-miler as a qualifier, had a bunch of volunteer hours as a trail manager for the CFPA and an aid station dude at Traprock, so I was officially starting the race. My broken ribs had healed so that wasn't an issue, and while I had the usual work-related interferences to any sort of structured training schedule, I felt totally ready for the challenge.
I usually support charities and non-profits by donating to friends' fundraising efforts, but my friend Adam (also running the race) kickstarted my runner fundraising page (didn't realize I even had one!) and was matched by an anonymous donor, so I decided to capitalize on that and ask for help to raise some funds for Vermont Adaptive Ski & Sport. I'm elated to write that solo, my friends and family added enough to top over $1600, and the Dark Sky Trail Runners as a team raised over $5000! Awesome total for a great group doing really good things to help folks with physical challenges get out and enjoy some quality time in nature. Link below!
Crutchley's VT Adaptive Fundraiser Page
Mother Nature decided to throw everyone into panic mode about 10 days out from the race, when the makings of a heatwave for race weekend started to percolate. As the days ticked by, the forecast kept getting upped until it looked like possible record-breaking heat values for race day. Mid-90s, dew point in the 70s, and a heat index of well over 100 degrees. A bit unnerving, but I'd been working outdoors in direct sunlight at my construction job and felt like it had prepped me for the heat. Sort of, anyway!
My crew, the awesome Ultrarunner husband and wife team of Peggy and Steve Edwards, offered to drive me to/from the race, and I'd booked a hotel in the same place as them which worked out great. Peggy and I arrived at Silver Hill, got checked in, and mingled with friends and strangers until RD Amy served up a pre-race briefing, with special commentary by Kyle Robidoux and Dave "Nipmuck Dave" Raczowski. Getting my bib sealed the deal, I was officially starting this thing!
Shit got very real when we saw this...
Runners Love Their Beer annual meeting? Hahaha...
Iconic.
I can do both?
Faith's crew was having dinner at Publick House so we decided to join them. Great dinner and conversation, and it's Vermont so the beer menu was killer. I had one Focal Banger from the Alchemist and switched to iced tea, because race in the morning!
You know, just your average world-class beer on the regular beer menu. Love it.
Back to the hotel, where I didn't really sleep and "got up" to get ready around 2 for a 4 a.m. start. Yikes. Steve dropped me off at the start, and I checked in, chatted with friends Niki and Russ Dresher, and Adam and Michelle Briasco, and a few strangers nervously prepping with a last cup of coffee and bite to eat. Couldn't find Faith! We were supposed to run together, and Adam and I lined up together, shared a few words with Joe "#hundojoe" Laskey, I looked around and didn't see Faith so when the race started, I crossed fingers that we'd cross paths...and success!!! I tend to wear really bright flourescent shirts when running, because I run in the woods a lot and never know when it's hunting season. She found us!!! About 3/4 of a mile in, I get almost tackled from behind by a relieved Faith, and the three of us continued on into the morning.
I quickly understood the course: Very long climbs, most over a mile long, followed by equally long descents, and very little flats to speak of. It was warm and humid from the beginning, but we cruised at a reasonable pace, hiked the ups and flowed on the downhill sections. We were also joined by horses!!! One of the coolest features of this race is sharing the course with a 100-mile horse race. Historic and now unique in Ultras.
I'd settled into a good rhythm with Faith and Adam, and we easily were beating cutoffs, and got to each aid station feeling confident about the day. Adam is faster than us and we told him to pull away anytime but he stayed with us. We also pulled another runner, Kate M., into our group, as she was running the same pace as us and we soon had a great group run going!
Adam before shit went sideways
Covered bridges!
Vermont flavor
Best part of the race, at least from my perspective: during a big climb, full sunlight, trudging up the hill before Pretty House, we were passing a really nice farm and I yelled out to Adam "Hey! If we come across a craft brewery anywhere on this course, we're stopping and I'm buying us a pint!" And the guy in the farmhouse heard me. Thirty seconds later he's yelling for us to hold up, and he runs across the lawn with two ice cold Zero Gravity Little Wolf Pale Ales for us. Best beer ever!!! We thanked him over and over, and the four of us split those two beers and they were fucking epic. Trail magic exists!!!
Arrival at the Pretty House A.S. was frenetic. We were 1.5 hours ahead of the cutoffs so that wasn't a problem, but I've never been crewed before and all the things I knew I needed I totally forgot. Fresh socks, shit like that. This was the aid station run by the Shenipsit Striders, my club, and I scored some awesome bacon there! Thanks!!! We headed out with fresh supplies, some ice in bandannas as it was already really hot, and headed toward the next stop. At the next big climb, we came across our first major casualty of the race, a runner named Pete. He was sitting on a log, wouldn't take any help, and after hiking up the hill with us for 100 yards, sat down on another log. Little did we realize, it would be another 7+ miles before we'd reach a manned aid station where we could report him to someone. Yikes.
Adam eventually pulled away from us, and Faith and I stayed together. She'd been talking up the "Sound of Music" hills all morning, and while the views were stunning, it was now "Africa Hot," and it was a long, exposed stretch of baking in fields and briefly pausing at the hilltops to remark on the view, then get the Hell outta there.
Tarzan couldn't take this kind of hot.
The hills are alive, with the sound of suffering...
Mile 30 aid station was where we really started to see some real carnage from the heat. A LOT of people I hadn't seen at all during the race were being tended to by their crews, people were dropping, and the really bad predicted heat had arrived. Adam was nowhere to be found. We spent 20 minutes eating, drinking, and getting cooled down. Steve held an umbrella over my head while I changed my socks and Peggy shoved a breakfast sandwich into my face. Those two! They were awesome all day. We set out from there about 1/4 mile up the road, crossed the road and a small stream, and BAM! Straight into a monster trail climb, which was to be my ultimate undoing, although I didn't know it yet. Steep enough and exposed enough that we played the "We'll walk 50 yards to that patch of shade and take a break" all the way up. Hands on knees steep. Halfway up, I look up the trail to see Adam, doubled over, hands on his knees and just stopped. I chat with him briefly and the hill had claimed its victim. I asked him to text me if he dropped, which he did.
Once we reached the top of this, passing yet another runner sprawled out on the trail having a rest, Faith started running and I couldn't get myself to run. I could still walk at a really good clip, though, but we'd had a talk during training about that moment when one of us would have to pull away from the other, and this was that moment. Some tears were shed, and we continued at our own paces.
The rest of the race? This sums it up:
Me and a couple of other runners said "Fuck it, a couple minutes aren't going to matter so let's go sit in the shade for a bit." So we did.
Well, I fell in with a dude named Jason who was in a similar situation, and we stayed together for a while, reaching the Lincoln Covered Bridge AS, where we were about to cross the river (YAY!) and also close to missing a cutoff. I crossed the river as another runner had soaked in the river, turned around and headed back to drop. After the river, I made another ludicrously long climb, and nearing the top at about 41 miles, the safety shuttle van drove by, offered a thumbs-up? to me and I gave him the "not so much" wave. Done. I'd done the math and I wasn't gonna make Camp 10 Bear before the cutoff. Too slow in the heat, it just sapped that extra something you need in these races right outta me. Hadn't peed since about 6am, had been drinking continuously all day and it was after 2. Yikes. In a matter of minutes the van was full of runners accepting a similar fate, and I was hearing radio chatter about the carnage. Like "send the ambulance here," "we have a girl throwing up and stumbling and trying to continue," shit like that. When my bib number was called over the radio I was officially a DNF, and one of over half the runners who started the race.
I got dropped off at Camp 10 Bear and did the walk of...shame? Not really. Felt not even a little bit bad about this one. Snuck up on my crew (Peggy and Steve were awesome, and I told them I'd crew for them anytime, anywhere) and gave them the lowdown on what happened. We all waited for Faith to arrive and cheered on the active runners, who were coming into 10 Bear looking rough, serious, and determined to beat the cutoff. Saw my friend Maria, who called it a day at 50 miles and was totally fine with it. Saw my friend Andy come charging in with little time to spare, ready to turn and burn and continue on. Stood up the hill where the runners were coming in with Joe, Faith's husband and chief crew member, and with 10-15 to spare, Faith came rolling in, with nothing left in the tank. The heat had claimed another victim, as she wasn't regulating her heat anymore, wasn't sweating and extremities were swelling.
Game over.
Until next year.
The Vermont 100 will be my focus race for 2020.
That said, I had an absolute blast at this race, with friends and strangers. Met some great people, was helped out by volunteers who worked aid stations in the outrageous heat all day for nothing other than the love of our sport, and raised some money for a great organization. One of their sight-assisted runners finished the 100-miler!!! Badass! My friends Kelyn, Steve, and Joe all rocked the race and finished! And the scenery was drop-dead gorgeous, quintessential Vermont beauty. So why not give it another try?
So I will.
Oh, and here's a couple of links to other posts that better describe the weekend:
The Power of Heat by Andy Jones-Wilkins
Vermont 100 Mile Race Report by Joe McConaughy
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