Report From The 2008 VT 100: Bad Patches and Buckles!
I did not make it to the finish. DNF. There you go.
But a lifetime of good times were had. I ran (and walked), my own way, got most of what
I came for, and am looking forward to more of the same, already. So there.
The Vermont trails were dry almost everywhere and in great shape. Except for the
steepest grades, most of it is runnable. Green and beautiful with lots of black flies.
The 90 degree day was humid and sunny, keeping some of the 340 registered runners
home. But for most of us, it was just a fact, not a problem. And, that attitude, dear
running friends, just begins to define an ultrarunner.
I ran great for almost 40 miles. The day was warming up quickly, and I was happy and
running easy. I had few specific goals, except be happy, do my best, and get that 24
hour buckle to give to my daughter Kaylyn and personal handler for the race. Doing
the math, we were at a 19 hour clip for now, and then I planned a much easier pace to
accommodate the heat of the day, and bringing it home in 22 hours in the dark. Maybe.
Big Maybe. But all ultrarunners have bad patches, and there was a long ways to go.
Then there was a bad patch. Hot. Broke down all the way. In what seemed like just over
a couple of miles in a sunny mountain stretch at 11 in the morning, I just couldn't go
slow enough to get it together. Walking didn't get it done. Not another person in sight,
panting, and spent, I sat down, then laid down, in a piece of bare ground by a rock wall
in the shade. You kidding me? DNF this early? Nah, just a very bad patch. Dude, my
weight was good, I had 44 ounces on me and I will get better. This is what I came for,
and it was the jackpot. Get better, I did. I got up, walked slow for almost 2 hours, with
lots of respect for that close call. I came in to the famous 10 Bear aid station at mile 47,
actually jogging on spent legs, and religiously happy to see my great handler. There was
very little run left in me, my good body needed time off, but I was full of myself.
Drenched in ice water and enough ice under my hat for a 2 mile brain freeze, it was
game day, again. I was moving slower for sure, but running. I had that ceremonial drink
in Margaritaville at 62, and ran until the aid station at 70, where you can start having
a pacer. In my case, the plan was to have Kay for miles 70-77, and then at 77 a great
young volunteer runner Joshua, who would take me to the finish. I still had about 9 hours
to get that buckle. 22-23 hours works for me.
Then there was another bad patch. The day was cooling, but I wasn't. I struggled to find
a little run left in me for the next 7 miles and 2 and a half hours. The Vermont terrain
was just too tough for me to really run now. And doing the math again, the buckle wasn't
quite happening at this pace. Thank goodness Kaylyn was there, although it was eye
opening for her see me out of sorts.
I was not sure what to do about this bad patch, but at the 77 mile aid station, I picked up
Josh, and a belly of coke, broth, fig newtons, m&m's, and who knows what else. We
were in a staggering hurry, and it was now dark. One last chance to come back, and,
good things happened. We started running, and the window for 24 hours opened, barely.
Until to about 2 miles before "Bill's", the great medical and aid station at mile 88.6.
Staggering worse than ever, Josh kept me literally on path. At Bill's, I got weighed,
sort of passed out on a cooler, then sort of passed out on a cot. Poor Kaylyn, Dad is
horizontal. And Joshua, and the medics were just wonderful. They were all over nursing
my selfish butt.
I now had no hope to be one of the (70) bucklers, but I did have 10 hours to cover 11 and
a half miles in the 30 hour cutoff tme, and that was an option. I just had to get up, which
wasn't possible, yet. Certainly that IV I pushed off, or waiting an hour or 2, and I would
be back staggering. Really. Just a fact, not a problem. Embrace it. Welcome to ultra
running.
I was completely aware, as confirmed by reciting my social security number, name, all
those tests. And, quitting or finishing in the 30 hour cutoff was a close call, and I let it
go to a group decision. And, we quit. I do know there are some ultra runners that would
have taken it the rest of the way in, and enjoyed being one of the awesome
155 finishers.I am not one of them, but there is always next time.
But a lifetime of good times were had. I ran (and walked), my own way, got most of what
I came for, and am looking forward to more of the same, already. So there.
The Vermont trails were dry almost everywhere and in great shape. Except for the
steepest grades, most of it is runnable. Green and beautiful with lots of black flies.
The 90 degree day was humid and sunny, keeping some of the 340 registered runners
home. But for most of us, it was just a fact, not a problem. And, that attitude, dear
running friends, just begins to define an ultrarunner.
I ran great for almost 40 miles. The day was warming up quickly, and I was happy and
running easy. I had few specific goals, except be happy, do my best, and get that 24
hour buckle to give to my daughter Kaylyn and personal handler for the race. Doing
the math, we were at a 19 hour clip for now, and then I planned a much easier pace to
accommodate the heat of the day, and bringing it home in 22 hours in the dark. Maybe.
Big Maybe. But all ultrarunners have bad patches, and there was a long ways to go.
Then there was a bad patch. Hot. Broke down all the way. In what seemed like just over
a couple of miles in a sunny mountain stretch at 11 in the morning, I just couldn't go
slow enough to get it together. Walking didn't get it done. Not another person in sight,
panting, and spent, I sat down, then laid down, in a piece of bare ground by a rock wall
in the shade. You kidding me? DNF this early? Nah, just a very bad patch. Dude, my
weight was good, I had 44 ounces on me and I will get better. This is what I came for,
and it was the jackpot. Get better, I did. I got up, walked slow for almost 2 hours, with
lots of respect for that close call. I came in to the famous 10 Bear aid station at mile 47,
actually jogging on spent legs, and religiously happy to see my great handler. There was
very little run left in me, my good body needed time off, but I was full of myself.
Drenched in ice water and enough ice under my hat for a 2 mile brain freeze, it was
game day, again. I was moving slower for sure, but running. I had that ceremonial drink
in Margaritaville at 62, and ran until the aid station at 70, where you can start having
a pacer. In my case, the plan was to have Kay for miles 70-77, and then at 77 a great
young volunteer runner Joshua, who would take me to the finish. I still had about 9 hours
to get that buckle. 22-23 hours works for me.
Then there was another bad patch. The day was cooling, but I wasn't. I struggled to find
a little run left in me for the next 7 miles and 2 and a half hours. The Vermont terrain
was just too tough for me to really run now. And doing the math again, the buckle wasn't
quite happening at this pace. Thank goodness Kaylyn was there, although it was eye
opening for her see me out of sorts.
I was not sure what to do about this bad patch, but at the 77 mile aid station, I picked up
Josh, and a belly of coke, broth, fig newtons, m&m's, and who knows what else. We
were in a staggering hurry, and it was now dark. One last chance to come back, and,
good things happened. We started running, and the window for 24 hours opened, barely.
Until to about 2 miles before "Bill's", the great medical and aid station at mile 88.6.
Staggering worse than ever, Josh kept me literally on path. At Bill's, I got weighed,
sort of passed out on a cooler, then sort of passed out on a cot. Poor Kaylyn, Dad is
horizontal. And Joshua, and the medics were just wonderful. They were all over nursing
my selfish butt.
I now had no hope to be one of the (70) bucklers, but I did have 10 hours to cover 11 and
a half miles in the 30 hour cutoff tme, and that was an option. I just had to get up, which
wasn't possible, yet. Certainly that IV I pushed off, or waiting an hour or 2, and I would
be back staggering. Really. Just a fact, not a problem. Embrace it. Welcome to ultra
running.
I was completely aware, as confirmed by reciting my social security number, name, all
those tests. And, quitting or finishing in the 30 hour cutoff was a close call, and I let it
go to a group decision. And, we quit. I do know there are some ultra runners that would
have taken it the rest of the way in, and enjoyed being one of the awesome
155 finishers.I am not one of them, but there is always next time.
