Running the Vermont 100
90 miles and 16 hours into the Vermont 100, I switched on my headlamp as the dirt road I’d been running up turned into a steep, rock-littered trail. Though I felt a pang of disappointment–it had been my goal to finish before dark–the overwhelming emotions were calmness, awe, and a delirious sense of joy. I’d been running since 4am, from the predawn darkness through midday heat and evening shadows, and suddenly realized I felt stronger than ever.
photo credit: Lila Gaudrault
The trail was lined with glow sticks, and occasional fireflies provided additional bursts of light. I passed houses where I could hear the clang of silverware through screen doors and cheers from front porches. I decided then to run every step of those last 10 miles as hard as I could. It was absolutely magical.
Peaks and Valleys
Just hours earlier, things had been much different. After a fast and nearly flawless first 50 miles, my race began to go south. I tripped on an uneven patch of grass and had the wind knocked out of me. Feelings of nausea became overwhelming, and I spent the infamous climb out of the Margaritaville aid station dry heaving on the side of the road. 100k runners who I’d passed earlier began flying by and asked what was going on. Dropping out was never an option, but I felt an overwhelming sense of dread as I slowly realized I was going to have to walk the final 40 miles.
Though Vermont was my first 100 miler, I’d finished over two dozen ultramarathons and felt well-prepared for the inevitable highs and lows that accompany running such long distances. Going into the race, I knew that there would be peaks and valleys (both literally and figuratively–the 17,000 feet of climbs that make up this course are relentless!). But I didn’t expect them to be so dramatic. The good moments were great–seeing friends at aid stations, flying up and down hills, watching the sun rise over the Green Mountains. But the low moments were awful.
What propelled me out of that worst patch turned out to be an unassuming biker who passed me around mile 68. “They’re waiting for you at Camp Ten Bear!” he told me. Camp Ten Bear, an aid station that marked the finish of a 23-mile loop considered the heart of the race, stood out in my mind as the beginning of the end. And now I was close! I sped up to a shuffle, then a jog, then a run that didn’t stop until I reached the finish line hours later.
Photo Finish
In addition to the support of the biker (and dozens of wonderful volunteers along the way), fueling and hydration was critical to getting through the day. As a solo runner, I had no crew or pacers along the way, which meant that I stuffed my pack with lots of Maple Waffles, filled my bottles with Lemon Tea Mapleaid, and focused on staying ahead of my nutrition needs. Looking back, I think some of my low points stemmed from underestimating just how many calories I needed. But rather than get discouraged about what could’ve been, I find it exciting to think about how much room for improvement there is for my next go at the distance!
As my headlamp illuminated a sign that marked half a mile left, I began to get choked up. But just as I started to hear cheering from the finish line, I suddenly spotted two headlamps ahead of me. It was the woman in 2nd place, who had passed me some 30 miles earlier, and her pacer. I’ve never had a strong kick, but I sprinted with everything I had.
photo credit: Lila Gaudrault
When I made the pass, she matched my speed and we battled to the line in a photo finish that was later called a tie for 2nd place at the awards ceremony. My time, 17:46:49, was well under my sub-18 hour goal. I couldn’t have asked for a more incredible experience, and I can’t wait for my next go at the distance. Congratulations to everyone who ran this year’s Vermont 100!