I don’t even know where to begin to describe this outing.  I say outing, because it was more than just a race, it was an adventure.  It was one of the most fun events I’ve ever done even though I wound up dropping out of the race 67 miles into the run.  I will say that I have learned a new respect for hills.  I’ve never encountered anything like this since I started running back in 2002. The scary part about that fact is that I am told as far as 100 milers go, the VT100 is relatively flat; that if you can describe over 14,000 feet of elevation gain over the course of 100 miles to be flat.

Most participants have a crew or what is also known as a handler for the race.  This is someone who drives around to various aid stations to give you whatever supplies you need during the course of the run.  This includes food, drink, changes of clothes, sneakers, lights, etc.  My crew and handler consisted of my wife who I must say did an outstanding job.  She was very anxious about driving all over unfamiliar roads and finding the various aid stations, especially at night.  She is a city gal and not used to driving on country roads and doesn’t have a good sense of direction.  However, she really pulled through and met me everywhere I needed her to be.  In fact, we had decided on us meeting at only 3 aid stations, but she met me at all except the first one which was very early in the race.  She said she did this because I wasn’t looking so good as my mileage got up past 50 and she felt bad for me.  Whatever her reasons for continuing to meet me, I was very happy.  I needed the change of shoes, socks and another application of Body Glide for my feet at each aid station.

The run began at 4am in the morning while it is still dark outside.  I set off with a few hundred other runners into the dark of night, keeping my headlamp trained onto the ground.  I didn’t know anyone in the race, but had conversations with one runner and then another as the paces of everyone sorted out.  I ran with first timers and veterans alike and kept an 11-12 minute mile pace for the first few miles.  Eventually, the sun began to rise and I was able to turn off my headlamp.  The early morning darkness gave me a taste for what was to come later on.

Some people think of running as a boring activity.  I suppose that could be the case if you just run in the same place all the time or don’t vary your terrain.  I never got bored or disinterested during the run.  I was usually concentrating too hard to make it up the next hill (aka mountain) or concentrating on not losing my footing as I ran down a long hill.  The steep ups and downs really challenged your legs and I could feel it in my hamstrings during the uphills and my quads as I struggled to maintain control on the downhills.

There is one aid station called 10 Bears that you run into twice.  The first time is at the start of a 20 mile loop, after running 50 miles.  At this point I decided to ditch the Camelbak that I was wearing since the weight was really becoming a drag and the feel of it across my abdomen was starting to bother me.  This turned out to be a mistake.  While the aid stations weren’t so far apart, the time to get to them wasn’t so quick as the terrain was very hilly.  I found myself getting dehydrated and wishing I had taken it with me.  Luckily at about this time I started to run with a 72 year old runner names Carston.  He had several water bottles with him and was kind enough to let me drink from one of his.  We ran together for about 8 miles, when we finally reached an aid station and I told him to go on while I recovered.  I was very grateful to him and stayed at the aid station for over 10 minutes as I took down fluids and refueled on PB&J.

After about 60 miles, I knew I was going to have some trouble finishing the run.  My pace was slowing down badly and the hills were no less relentless.   I ran into one of the aid stations where my wife was meeting me and she made me get checked out by the medical people even though I was feeling ok, just tired.  The medical person asked me a few questions and then sent me on my way.  I was feeling about how one was supposed to feel after running 60 miles of relentless hills.

By now it was starting to get dark.  I delayed putting my headlamp on until the light would really do something beyond which the natural daylight was able to provide.  Eventually it became pitch black and all I had to illuminate my way was my light’s beam.  It was getting onto 11pm at night and I was reduced to a very slow walk.  My mile splits were reduced to 21 and the 25 minutes.  I started to do the calculations in my head and knew at this rate I would eventually be pulled off the course for not being able to make a cut off.  I was now around 66 miles into the course and I decided that if I saw someone who could give me a ride to the next aid station I would take it.  I saw no point in spending the next 90 minutes wandering in the dark just to make it 3 more miles.  At about the 67^th mile a family on ATVs approached me from the opposite direction.  They stopped to let me pass and I asked them if they could give me a ride back to 10 Bears, which was the next aid station.

They were kind enough to do so.  When I arrived the medical people came over to me and walked me over to the med tent.  They got me off my feet, gave me a blanket and some hot soup.  It felt real good to be resting, but my pride was also stinging over the fact that I dropped out of the race.  I knew I made the right decision, but that didn’t make me feel any better.  My wife arrived a few minutes after I did and she came over to see how I was.  I felt fine but knew I had enough.

— It is now a few weeks since the race and I still haven’t finished this race account.  I am just going to post what I have written so far or else I’ll never do so.  My desire to do next year’s VT100 is as strong as ever.  In fact, I need to keep myself from beginning to train for it now.  I am very excited about doing it again.