Race Report: 2018 Vermont 100

On July 21st, I attempted the Vermont 100 Mile Endurance Race.  I didn't finish.  This is one of the five oldest 100 miles trail runs in the United States.   I needed a Western States qualifier, and I chose this one because it’s run mostly on jeep roads and horse trails.  It’s hilly, but my understanding was that it’s not technical.

When I entered this race, I was still only running about once a week.  I didn’t know if I could be in shape to run 100 miles, but this seemed like a fairly walkable course.  The time limit is 30 hours.  I figured if I could walk 100 miles in 24 hours at FANS, I could probably walk 100 hilly miles in 30 hours.  If necessary, I could do just enough running to keep myself on pace.

By the end of June, I was not only capable of walking 100 miles, but I was back to running every other day.  After a strong performance at the Manitoba Marathon, I was much more confident that I was in good enough shape to run a significant percentage of the race.  I was also getting more confident that I could do so without injuring my back.

Three weeks before the race, I started to experience some inflammation in my left leg, where my hamstring meets my pelvis.  I had done two fairly aggressive walking workouts that day.  After the second one, I suddenly had discomfort just walking around the house.  I wasn’t sure if it was a partial tear or just tendonitis, but I took it pretty seriously.

I was already as well-trained as I was going to be, so there was no good reason why I couldn’t cut back in my training.  I took three days off, and iced it a few times a day.  When I no longer felt discomfort doing day-to-day activities, I went for a walk at a slower than usual pace.  I felt OK for the first five miles, but then I felt a little bit of soreness.  The next day, I went for a run.  I was able to go farther before feeling any discomfort, but I still felt a little soreness toward the end of my run.

After two more days off, I felt like I was back to normal, but I continued to train cautiously.  At this point, I was doing just enough training to lose conditioning.  I limited myself to one workout per day, at most, and continued to take rest days.

I was feeling like I was back to normal and got more confident that I’d be OK for the race.  Then, after two weeks of really holding back in my walking, I did a brisk walk on a hilly route.  I felt some discomfort during my walk, and continued to feel sore later in the day.  That was just six days before the race.

After that, I did only one workout in the next five days.  Going into the race, I was a little worried about losing conditioning, but I was much more worried that I wasn’t sufficiently healed.  I felt OK running at a moderate pace and walking at a cautious pace, but I didn’t know if I could walk at a brisk pace.  I also didn’t know how it would hold up over 100 miles of hills.

That forced me to abandon my original pacing plan.  If I couldn’t walk at a fast pace, I had to do more running to maintain a fast enough pace.  Walking 100 miles in 30 hours would be fairly easy if it was flat, but this race is hilly.  I knew I’d be slow on the steeper hills, so I had to compensate for that.  I was still afraid to do too much downhill running, so my new plan was to walk the downhill sections and do a run/walk mix on the uphill sections.

The Vermont 100 is run on private land in eastern Vermont, starting and finishing at Silver Hill Meadow in West Windsor.  The closest major airports are Burlington, VT and Manchester, NH.  There aren’t any direct flights from Minneapolis to either of these cities, so getting there involved two flight segments, plus some driving.

I needed to be at Silver Hill Meadow by Friday afternoon for check-in and a mandatory pre-race briefing.  I knew I couldn’t get there on time if I flew out on Friday, so I flew to Manchester on Thursday and drove to White River Junction, which is about 20 miles from Silver Hill Meadow.  I could have found closer lodging, but I stayed at the Hampton Inn in White River Junction, so I could stick with a familiar hotel chain.  I didn’t want to risk any unpleasant surprises.

After checking in at Hampton Inn, I had dinner in town.  Then I tried to get to bed as early as I could.  I didn’t sleep well that night, which is a shame, since it was my only chance to get a full night’s sleep.

Friday morning, I slept in as late as I could.  That turned out to be 5:45.  I had breakfast at the hotel.  Then I drove to Silver Hill Meadow to pick up my race packet and do my pre-race medical check.  The medical check included a pre-race weigh-in wearing the same gear I planned to use for the race.

This race also includes a 100 mile horse riding race.  The courses are different, but they have quite a bit of overlap.  While I was at the meadow, I saw several of the horses in the camping area.

When I was done checking in for the race, I drove back to White River Junction to drop off my race packet and change into street clothes.  Then I drove just across the river into West Lebanon, NH, where I discovered this lasagna pizza at Ziggy’s Pizza.

I didn’t have a crew, so I had to rely on drop bags for any gear I needed to pick up or drop off during the race.  There were seven different aid stations where you could have a drop bag.  Of these, the Camp 10 Bear aid station was the only aid station that we would visit twice during the race.  We would visit it at 47 miles and again at 69.4 miles.  I didn’t know how far I would get before dark, but having my drop bag here gave me some flexibility.  By the time I finished 47 miles, I would have a good idea whether I needed to pick up my headlamp on the first pass or could wait until the second pass.

After lunch, I organized my race gear and packed my drop bag.  I had a couple hours to explore White River Junction.  Then I drove back to Silver Hill Meadow for a mandatory pre-race briefing.  I could have saved a trip by waiting until the afternoon to do packet pickup, but I wanted to get familiar with the route.  In the morning, I would have to find my way in the dark.  I couldn’t count on using my phone for directions, because cell reception in this area is spotty, and it might direct me along class IV roads that we were advised not to use.  After driving there twice in daylight, I was pretty sure I could find my way in the dark.

When I got to Silver Hill Meadow, I dropped off my bag.  Then I went to the big tent for the pre-race briefing.  In addition to the usual stuff, we were given some advice about sharing the trails with horses.

During the briefing, the race director mentioned that we would be getting some rain during the night.  That caught me by surprise.  A week before the race, when I started watching the forecast, I saw a chance of rain during the night.  As it got closer to race day, it seemed like the rain risk went away.  The last time I checked the forecast I was only paying attention to the high and low temperatures.  I didn’t think to check the nighttime forecast for rain.  Oops.

I immediately regretted that I didn’t put a jacket or rain poncho in my drop bag.  I certainly could have.  I brought them, and I had plenty of room in my bag.  By now, it was too late.  I had already turned in my bag, and my rain poncho and Tyvek jacket were both at the hotel.

After the briefing, there was a pre-race dinner.  It was a pretty good meal.  They had at least four types of pasta, a few salads, rolls, bread, and cookies.  They also had water and lemonade, but you had to bring your own cup or bottle.  This is a cupless race, and that includes the dinner.  After the dinner, I drove back to the hotel and discovered a baggie with half of my electrolyte pills.  That was supposed to be in my drop bag.  Instead, I had to keep them in my fanny pack.  Fortunately, they don’t take up much space.

After reviewing the forecast, I couldn’t ignore the risk of rain Saturday night.  I had two options.  I could tie a Tyvek jacket around my waist, or I could try to stuff a plastic rain poncho into my fanny pack, which was already full.  In either case, I could eventually put it in my drop bag, but not until my first pass through Camp 10 Bear, which would take several hours.

After verifying the rain poncho would fit in the fanny pack, I tried to get to sleep as early as I could.  I slept well for about four and a half hours.  That’s more than I expected.  I actually felt more alert than I did on Friday.

The race started at 4:00 AM, and I needed to check in at the start by 3:45.  I usually allow an hour to get ready in the morning, and I had to allow time for the drive.  I set my alarm for 2:00, but I was awake at 1:00, so I started getting ready.

I had time to fix a cup of tea and reheat a slice of my leftover pizza.  Then I checked the weather forecast again.  The forecast high for race day was 82 degrees.  The early morning temperature only 56 degrees, so I could look forward to several hours of comfortable running before it got hot.  It now seemed certain it would rain during the night, but it was hard to predict when it would start.  It seemed unlikely it would start before 4 AM.  That gave me 24 hours to finish before it started raining.  Originally, I just wanted to finish within the 30 hour time limit.  Now I was strongly motivated to finish within 24 hours, which was an ambitious goal.  I needed to do much more running than I originally planned.

I had two reasons to be concerned about the rain.  First, I was planning to wear the same clothes and shoes for the entire race, so I dressed for the afternoon heat.  I expected to get cold during the night, when the temperature dropped back into the 50s.  My plastic rain poncho was the only extra layer I could add, and it wouldn’t cover my arms and legs.  If we got a soaking rain, I’d almost certainly get hypothermic.  I struggle with those conditions when I’m running.  I don’t generate as much heat when I’m walking.

I was also concerned about running in the dark on muddy trails. After talking to runners who have done this race in rainy years, I got the impression that the course really degrades when it’s wet.

I had no trouble driving to the start in the dark.  I already knew every turn.  I got there at 3:00 and was able to park close to the start.  After checking in, I relaxed in my car until 3:30.  Then I made a bathroom stop and filling my bottle.

My fanny pack was so full, I could barely get it on.  In addition to the rain poncho, I had my car keys, room card, electrolyte pills, camera, and flashlight.  I’d be using the flashlight for the first hour of the race, but I had to have room to put in back in my fanny pack.

As the race started, we ran downhill for the first mile.  I ran this whole section.  I would have been more comfortable walking it, but I wanted to stay with the main pack of runners in the early miles.

We eventually left the road to make a sharp right turn onto a dirt trail.  The course was well marked, but I could easily have missed this turn in the dark if I was by myself.  That’s why I wanted to be in a thick pack until there was enough natural light to see.

I could see some rocks in the trail, so I ran cautiously and kept my light focused on the ground right in front of me.  When we reached a trail section without any rocks, I turned off my light.  There was enough light from the runners around me that I could still see.

Each time we reached an uphill section, the people ahead of me started walking.  When they walked, I walked.  When they resumed running, I did too.  As a result, I was running all the downhill section and walking all the uphill sections.  That’s almost the opposite of what I planned, but it was the path of least resistance.  I training to walk both uphill and downhill, but I only trained to run uphill. I was worried that the downhill running might beat up my quads, but I was maintaining a good pace, running downhill and power-walking uphill.

By 5:00, there was enough natural light to see the whole road, so I stuffed my flashlight back into my fanny pack.

I had to run seven miles before reaching the first of 25 aid stations.  After that, they were never more than five miles apart, and they were sometimes much closer.  There was a place at this aid station where we could drop off our flashlights or headlamps.  I didn’t like having that the excess weight in my fanny pack, but if I dropped it off, I wouldn’t be able to use it later in the race.  I kept it with me as an insurance policy, in case I misjudged my pacing and didn’t reach Camp 10 Bear for the second time until after dark.

I didn’t want to carry too much weight, so I wore a fuel belt that holds only one water bottle.  Early in the race, that was enough to get me from one aid station to the next. When it got hot, my plan was to drink at each aid station and then top off my bottle before leaving.

One of my big concerns before the race was my recent tendon injury.  It was feeling OK, but I didn’t know how it would hold up over 100 miles. If it wasn’t healed, that could easily become a problem that could end my race.  In the first mile or two, I felt some tightness in my left hamstring and some mild soreness in my left glute, but no pain at the connection point.  The soreness went away as I got warmed up, so I was able to walk at a fairly brisk pace.

Most of the aid stations just had water and a sports drink called Base.  I filled my bottle with Base at every aid stations.  The large aid stations also had food.  At each of these aid stations, I ate a PBJ.

The horses started later than we did.  We were about two and a half hours into the race when the first horses caught up to us.  The fastest ones passed us so quickly, that I couldn’t get a clear picture.

Most of the course seemed remote, but we sometimes went past farms and houses on residential roads.   At 15 miles, went through a town and got our first real crowd support.  Then we crossed the Taftsville covered bridge.

We turned to followed a road which gave up great views of  this river.

Throughout the day we were passed by more horses.  Most of the riders were in groups of three or four.

For the first 25 miles, the majority of the course was on dirt roads that looked like this.

Some of trail sections were fairly runnable, but some of them had rocks.  Going uphill, I walked at the best pace I could manage, but some of these sections were steep.  Going downhill, I had to run cautiously.  Where there were rocks, I had to walk.

At the tops of the climbs we were sometimes rewarded with views of the surrounding hills.

I reached 25 miles in less than five hours.  I was averaging 12 minutes per mile, which put me on pace for a 20 hour finish.  I was worried I was going too fast and would pay for it later.  I was also worried about how much downhill running I was doing.  My legs weren’t conditioned for that, and I was concerned I was probably beating up my quads.  I was maintaining such a fast pace only because I felt it was important to finish within 24 hours to stay ahead of the rain.

I talked to another runner who has done this race before.  I commented that it seemed like there was twice as much downhill as uphill.  It wasn’t just me.  He also felt like the course was much easier than he remembered.  I later learned that the first 25 miles was the easiest part of the course.

After that, we encountered more trail sections, and they became more technical. 
We started a climb that went on and on.  I was able to maintain a brisk pace on most of it, but after so much climbing, I knew there would eventually be a long steep descent.  There was.  The descent was surprisingly steep, over a series of grassy hillsides.  For the first time, I passed one of the horses.  On uphill or flat terrain, the horses were faster.  The horses don’t like steep descents, so they tend to be slower than runners on these sections.

Running down these hills was uncomfortable.  I couldn’t run them freely, so I was constantly putting on the brakes to control my speed.  If I didn’t trash my quads earlier, I certainly did here.  I should have walked down the hills, but it was uncomfortable trying to walk downhill through the tall grass.

When I reached the next aid station, they said we were done with 30 miles.  I checked my watch.  My pace over the last five miles was about 13 minutes per mile.  That was still faster than the pace I needed to finish in 24 hours, but I was concerned about the damage I did to my quads.  I also knew I would slow down in the afternoon heat.  I was already getting hot and sweaty, even though it was only a little after 10:00.  Leaving that aid station, we followed a paved road for a few minutes before entering the next trail section.  I walked this, so I could take the time to eat a PBJ.

The next section of trail was uphill. It was so steep, I couldn’t walk it fast.  Until now, I always passed people going uphill. Now, others were passing me.  This climb went on and on and on.  It must have been at least a mile, and it was all steep.  This section wore me out, and I never recovered from it.

When we eventually got onto road again, I could no longer run all of the downhill sections.  Even when the slope was gradual, I had to take walking breaks, because my quads got sore.

There was another long uphill section, but this one was on road.  I tried to walk briskly, but quickly got tired and had to slow to a casual walking pace.  After the long hill and another uncomfortable descent, I crossed another covered bridge, which led me into the next aid station.

At the Lincoln Covered Bridge aid station, they handed me a wet cloth.  My head was covered with sweat, so I took off my hat and sunglasses and wiped away the sweat.  Before leaving the aid station I ate some pickle slices and a potato wedge covered with salt.

The sign at the aid station said I was done with 39.2 miles.  I thought it said the next one was at 41 miles, but I misread the sign.  It actually said it was 4.1 miles to the next aid station.

I was getting thirsty.  Thinking it was only two miles to the next aid station, I drank more.  In the next two miles I drained my bottle.  I didn’t know it, but I still had two miles to go before the next aid station.

I could no longer run.  Now I was walking both uphill and downhill.  I could no longer power walk either.  All I could do was walk at a casual pace.  Walking downhill was now painful.

During this stretch, I had to face several painful realities.  I still had almost 60 miles to go.  Now that I was reduced to a casual walking pace, it would take me another 20 hours.  Every mile was going to be painful.  I still had enough time to finish within the time limit, but I might have to walk in the rain for as much as five hours.  If that happened, I would surely get hypothermic.

You can tolerate a lot of discomfort if you’re motivated.  At FANS, I had a burning desire to get my Centurion badge.  I no longer had a burning desire to finish this race.  This race was a stepping stone toward eventually running the Western States 100.  For the past year, I’ve had serious doubts about whether I could train for Western States without reinjuring my back, but I wanted to keep my options open.  Now I also had serious doubts about whether I could ever finish that race.  It’s much more difficult than this one, and this one was kicking my ass.  I suddenly had serious doubts about whether I still wanted to do Western States.  There are a lot of races I want to do, and I can’t do all of them.  Having a Western States qualifier in my schedule each year makes me skip other races.  I had an epiphany and realized it just wasn’t worth it any more.  It’s time for me to accept my limits and focus on the races I’m good at.

There was one other thought on my mind.  At the pre-race dinner, I bumped into a runner I know who has done this race 27 times.  When I asked him if he had any advice, he said, “Have fun.”  At this point in the race, I wasn’t having any fun.  It was now just a long painful ordeal.

I was ready to quit, but I had to get to one of the major aid stations.  The next major aid station was Camp 10 Bear, which was at 47 miles.

Before that, I had get to Lillians aid station.  This section was mostly road, but it was still agonizingly slow and painful.  It seemed like it took forever.  When I got there, I ate a piece of watermelon and started eating a popsicle as I left the aid station.  I still had 3.7 miles to get to Camp 10 Bear.  As I left Lillians, there was a brief section alongside a highway.  It was flat, and I started talking to another runner as we both walking along the road.  Then we got onto a section of dirt road, which was also fairly flat.  As we were talking, I almost made a wrong turn.  I didn’t notice the trail marker showing where to leave the road.  Fortunately, I was with another runner who was paying more attention.

The trail was extremely well marked.  If you missed a turn, it’s because you weren’t paying attention.  At every turn, they had yellow disks with arrows.  Sometimes, they also had chalk arrows on the road.  Between the turns, there were yellow disks with the letter “C.”  These were confidence markers to let you know you were still on the right trail.

After a long section of flat roads, I started to feel more comfortable. I felt like I might be recovering.  Then we entered another trail section.  At first it was downhill, and I started to run it.  After a few steps, I thought better of that and switched to walking.  Then I started up a long steep hill.  Other runners were walking up the hill at a casual pace.  I couldn’t even do that.  Everyone was passing me.  This section was single track, so I had to keep stepping off the trail to let people pass.  That section removed any doubt about what the rest of the race would be like.  I was out of gas.

Normally, if I’m considering dropping from a race, I’ll try to make it as far as I can.  Camp 10 Bear was the best place to stop, because my drop bag was there, but I’d be going though there again at 69.4 miles. Normally, I’d keep going until I got there for the second time.  Just getting there from Lincoln Cover Bridge seemed like a death march.  I just couldn’t imagine dragging myself through another 22.4 slow painful miles when I knew I’d be dropping later anyway.  I also preferred stopping in the afternoon.  By the time I got back there again it would be well after dark.

The last two miles before Camp 10 Bear were on dirt roads.  I had no way of knowing if I was getting close to the aid station, so the road seemed to go on and on.

Before one of the last turns, I saw what looked like a trail marker, but it was pointed at a funny angle.  Were we supposed to turn right?  I saw runners ahead of me who were going straight.  A runner at the intersection turned back toward me and asked me if we were supposed to turn here.  I said, “I think so.  I see a trail marker.”  She missed that marker, but looking down the road to her right, she saw one of the confidence markers.

She knew the two runners who went straight and yelled their names.  No answer.  They were already out of sight around a bend.  I yelled, “You missed a turn” as loud as I could.  It was so loud I could hear my voice echo through the meadow.  They heard me and yelled, “Thanks.”  They had to backtrack for about a quarter mile, but that’s better than going miles out of their way before discovering they were off course.  That could really ruin your day.

Camp 10 Bear is by far the largest of the aid stations.  As I got close, I saw a bunch of parked cars.  When I got there, I checked in and asked where the drop bags were.  After retrieving my drop bag, I told one of the volunteers I was dropping out, and I gave her my race bib.  That’s the protocol.  They need to know that you’re no longer on the trail, so they don’t have to search for you when you’re overdue to check in at the next aid station.

It took me 10½ hours to finish 47 miles.  Technically, I was still on pace for a 24 hour finish.  In reality, it would take me close to 18 hours to do 53 more miles at the pace I was now walking.  I had enough time, but I just couldn’t see putting myself through that many hours of pain, and quite frankly, I was afraid of getting caught in a cold rain during the night.

They had a shuttle to take runners or pacers to the other major aid stations or the start/finish area.  Near the food table, I saw they were grilling burgers and brats.  While I was waiting for the next shuttle, I had a burger.  I couldn’t imagine eating anything that filling during a race, but now it was post-race food, and it really hit the spot.

After I got back to the start/finish area, I drove back to the hotel.  By the time I showered and changed clothes, it was already dinner time, and I was hungry again.  I still had leftover pizza, so I didn’t have to go out.

I slept well Saturday night.  I slept in and didn’t get up until 8:00.  When I went down to breakfast, I saw that it was beginning to rain lightly.  That was around 8:30.  I don’t know if there were periods of rain during the night.  If not, I might have been able to finish before the rain started.  If I had known that, I might have continued, but it still would have meant 18 slow painful hours of walking, and I still would have been cold during the night.  It’s easy to second-guess your decisions after the fact.

I made several mistakes before this race that led to my failure to finish.  My first mistake was underestimating the difficulty of this course.  I was expecting most of it to be on dirt roads.  I thought the trail sections would have a surface similar to the roads.  I wasn’t expecting anything technical, and I wasn’t expecting hills that were so steep.  My second mistake was overestimating my own preparedness for this race.  I’ve had some good results running, but those were in road races.  I wasn’t prepared to run on trails, and I wasn’t prepared to do a bunch of downhill running.  My third mistake was not only abandoning my pacing plan, but starting at a pace that was clearly too fast.  My last mistake was not being prepared for the possibility of rain during the night.  I got careless and didn’t keep checking the forecast.  I should have had rain gear and extra layers.  I also should probably have had more than one drop bag.  I’m usually on top of that stuff, but I got complacent.

It’s not all bad news.  A week ago, I couldn’t walk at a brisk pace without aggravating an injured hamstring tendon.  I didn’t think it would be healed before this race.  Apparently it was.  It didn’t bother me during the race, and it’s not bothering me today.  I have lots of sore muscles, but that tendon isn’t sore at all.  After three weeks of mostly resting, I’m ready to resume training.  I was really worried that I would aggravate this injury to the point where I would be jeopardizing the other races on my schedule.  Not finishing this race, but being healthy again is a trade-off I’ll gladly accept.

Race Statistics

Race Distance:  100 miles

Result:  Did Not Finish

Distance Covered:  47 miles

Average Pace:  13:24