I cannot talk about the Virgil Crest Ultra 50, without first telling you about Labor Day weekend. I was spending some time in the Finger Lakes, and took advantage of the opportunity to sink in a solid training run. It was a perfect morning for a 20+ run on the finger lakes trail in and around the Urbana State Forest. I was able to reach the forest by way of West lake road, adding some 1,000 feet of climbing to my loop. I was feeling very confident in my pace, climbing ability, and the few remaining weeks of training I had planned. Shortly after I returned from my run I was playing in the water with my daughters, when I realized that a water toy was floating away, and down the shoreline. After I had saved the toy from it’s drift, and was walking along the shore I slipped on a group of large rocks. My left foot slipped first, and I used my right foot to save myself from a fall. The right foot dug in hard, but instead of saving the fall, I essentially kicked the edge of a shale rock about as hard as one can imagine.
I was sent rolling into the water, grabbing my foot, watching the blood flow from my big toe. My first thought was the VCU Ultra, as I knew I had done real damage. Hours later, the doctor at the emergency room declared that the wound was an avulsion, not a laceration and that no stitches could be administered. I was sent packing with a big band-aid and a gash on my toe.
Fast forward two weeks, I have only empty boxes of band-aids to show for myself. It took all I had to stay off the sore foot, and not try to use it in any way. I wanted to give it every possible chance to heal properly. My mind was reeling from enduring almost no physical activity what-so-ever, so I decided I would give the foot a trial run with the #TrailRoc crew at my nearby stomping grounds, Dryer Rd. park. The run felt surprisingly good. The foot did not protest, and my legs and body were feeling peppy and fresh. Despite the fresh, pain free feeling, I decided to give my foot another full week of rest. This would mean I would enter the VCU without running more than ~5 miles in three weeks. Disappointing, but I was convinced this would put me in the best possible position to run well in Virgil.
The morning of the race I awoke at 3:30am, as I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to eat a good breakfast. It was then I realized my stomach was just not interested in eating food. I struggled to eat my breakfast. I ate without overdoing it and moved on. I then realized I had made two other mistakes already. First, I left both headlamps in my drop bags. I’d have to run the first 5 miles stealing light from others. I had also failed to grab safety pins. For someone who likes things in order the morning of a race, things were anything but order. Not a great start. I spent some time stretching and moving around to wake up my body, and try to re-focus my mind. I received a text from Liam, and agreed to meet him in the lobby at 5:15. I went down and met him there. It was great to see a good friend, with whom I have run in Juneau AK with the past two summers. Immediately my mind snapped back to a more positive place as we talked and made our way over to the starting line from the hotel.
The breeze that morning was warm, despite my expectations of an early September morning. I expected it to be cold, and was glad to feel the warmth still in the air even at this early hour in the morning. The race began with the race director Ian Golden blowing the starting signal into a conk shell. The rather weak sounding signal was underwhelming, there were at least a few chuckles, but regardless, we were off, and into the dark. Headlamp-less, and nervous about what the day would bring. The first section of the race takes you around Hope Lake Park on paved trail. It was exciting, and I tried my best to stay at a very relaxed pace. As we turned into the wooded section I ran on and off as we climbed through the Tuller state forest.
Despite knowing this would not be the pace I would maintain for the day, I ran up one of the climbs, and it felt good to get my heart and lungs moving. The move helped to create some separation, and I found myself running with a group of three other runners winding our way towards the gravel pit. The lack of a headlamp was really a non-issue. Especially since I wasn’t leading this race, and pretty much every other runner out there had one on. By the time we reached the #TrailsRoc manned Gravel Pit aid station it was light out. I ran though the aid station, and decided there was no need to stop. I was through Gravel Pit in 47 minutes, fine.
The group I was running with kept on, but already my dis-taste for food and water was starting to affect me. I was really struggling to eat anything, and it was clear anything I ate resulted in a slight protest from my stomach. I decided to slow the pace and dropped from the foursome and soon found myself running alone for the first time. This section of trail is very typical for upstate New York, and was very runnable. It’s the sort of trail that I thrive on, and really enjoy running on. My mind was happy, but I was concerned for my calories. Liam passed me on the last climb in this section, and I could still see the group ahead as cleared the forest and came out onto Carson Road. Descending Carson road was the first time the negative thoughts started to enter my mind. “how the hell am I going to climb back up this road at mile 40??”. I did my best to focus on the fact that I am running down hill now, and tried hard not to worry about what I wasn’t doing.
After the long descent I cruised into the Lift House aid station. I dove into my drop bag for some different food. Beef jerky, somersaults, and a peanut butter sandwich. I was determined to get something down the hatch that would stick. The lift house section was exactly what I had expected. Straight forward power hiking climbs. I am sure there are those that would combine the hiking and running up this hill, but that’s not me. Certainly not today, and not with missing 3 weeks of training. I enjoy powering up hills, and found some comfort in the straight forwardness of this section. I honestly felt fine climbing, and descending but I knew I was still way low on consuming food, and my energy was low. Thus the continuous negative thoughts that kept seeping into my mind. “how the hell are you going to finish this race”. I was through the Alpine Loop and leaving the Lift House 5 aid station, roughly 2:47 elapsed. Again, fine.
I knew the simplicity of the situation, just eat, the next climb brought out all the negative feelings. It slowed my pace, as runners would continue to catch and pass me. My right foot also began to speak to me, the bone was starting to feel the ~15 miles and was ever so slightly beginning throb. It was during this climb out of the lift house that I started to question what I would do once I reach Daisy Hollow. What I would say to my family/crew who were on their way down to Virgil as I climbed. It seemed inevitable that I would quit at the turn around. As we reached the peak of that climb, and turned under the power lines, back into the forest I ran into Guillermo, a nice kid from NJ that was running his first 50. We seemed to be pacing about the same, and the conversation was welcomed as we worked our way through the woods. This section of trail is another beautiful stretch of very runnable trails. Guillermo and I traded leading back and forth as we made our way down into the road, and then back a respectable final climb into the rock pile aid station. Determined to feel better, I sat down, drank a ton of water and gu brew, and pulled out the chicken nuggets I had microwaved earlier that morning. Finally, something that my stomach craved. They were cold, greasy, and fatty tasting. It was delicious, and it was good to eat something real. I didn’t push it though. Stocked up on some food options and left quickly. I tend to avoid staying at aid stations long. It bothers me. Besides, if I kept moving at the pace I was maintaining, I’d be at Daisy hollow around 5:30 elapsed. Which was my planned arrival time prior to the foot injury, and forced taper.
I started off slowly, but as the section out to Daisy Hollow dropped, and we started to see runners coming in the other direction my energy came back. I passed Guillermo back up, and cruised through what I think was my favorite portion of the entire race, and I was into Daisy Hollow. I arrive at 5:38 elapsed, and feeling good. It felt great to amazing to be only 8 minutes off my original halfway mark, and I was secretly glad family is not here to visit me. Their absence made me feel excited to turn back, and get going. Amazing what a few calories will do for you! However, things just weren’t going to go my way today.
Back on the trail, things immediately started to turn south. My right knee starting to hurt. This is something that has happened to me before, and oddly enough at nearly the same exact distance during a separate 50 miler effort (~25 miles). I don’t know if it’s mental, or the pace, but I was concerned. The pain starts slow, but before long it would completely disable any strong descent, and just out of the aid station, I knew it was coming. What was a fantastic ride into Daisy Hollow, was not quite as simple of a return to the Rock Pile. That’s the great part of this course. It is relentless. There is no sit back and relax and revel in that amazing section you finished. It’s non-stop. While it was a relief to no longer be questioning my conditioning, or my foot, or my stomach, or whether I would have the mental strength to finish, I couldn’t help but focus on the right knee. Right on cue, “Jason” ran up on me. I had passed him earlier out of the aid station. He was a 100 miler (i believe, like many others, dropped at the 100- miler turn around). I was extremely lucky to run into Jason. This nice fellow loved to talk, and we had a amazing conversation about family, racing history, and the appreciation for well organized racing. Before long I was into the Rock Pile again, with mileage and my knee being the last thing on my mind.
As I approached I could see to young girls jumping up and down, hollering, and ringing a cowbell. I knew that was my family, and for the first time that day, I completely forgot myself. I was just so happy to see my girls. I quickly changed my socks, and decided I was hungry. I wolfed down two cups of much needed chicken & rice soup. Talked about the day with my wife and father, and decided it was time to get going. As I was leaving the aid station I heard my wife call out, “run fast”. Leaving the aid station at Rock Pile is a respectful decent. 
My knee was bad, and I struggled to get down. With this issue, I have found that the steeper the decent, the more painful the sensation is. As soon as my leg bends backwards and releases from the ground, I wince. I try my best to hobble down, stopping often to stretch. Ironically I was happy to reach the road, and begin ascending again. As I made my way through this next section, I let the sound of gaining runners keep my pace up. I didn’t want to continue to lose spots, but more than anything, it meant that I was still moving at a somewhat respectable pace. As I reached the power line section, I knew all that was left was a tireless downhill into the Lift House aid station. Nearly in tears I made my way down this section with a new friend from Quebec City running his first 50 miler. I lost no less than 6 spots in this descent alone. Today was just not going to give.
As I came up the dirt road into the Lift House aid station I saw my family again. My wife called out “What took you so long?” I pretended not to hear that, and asked her to grab some Tylenol & meet me at the Lift house. She had a point, it had taken almost 2 hours for me to reach the aid station. I knew I needed to take some time here, and see if I could improve my situation. As my wife came into the aid station, I told her that this might be a long night, but no matter what, I was going to finish this race. The important part of that statement is that a.) my mind was made up and b.) my ego had been put into check. At this point I was going to manage my body into the finish line, no matter what was to come. I stretched, ate, and iced my knee. I took some Tylenol and after about 10 minutes decided it was time to start climbing. I was happy to climb. Again, as much as the alpine loop is a dreaded section of this course, I found myself looking forward to it. I knew what to expect, as I could clearly see the course in reverse in my mind. I actually found the apline loop easier in this direction. As I worked my way up, I caught back up with three runners that had passed me. Then the rain started. It felt warm, and refreshing. As I worked my way across, then down, and back up to the top, I had caught two more runners. As I descended back down I realized that running hard down hill felt better than gingerly running slow. So, I did my best to hold my form, and fall down the hill. I was able to catch two more runners before I reached the aid station. By now, it was pouring.
At this moment you realize that there are only 10 miles left to go. Nothing is more doable than 10 miles. I wasted no time, kissed my wife and made my way up the road, and to the base of Carson Road hill. This was the section I was convinced earlier in the day that I’d never be able to do. Yet here I was, climbing, and gaining on runners ahead. The rain was relentless, and would remain this way through to the finish. By the time I turned into the woods, and started in on the wooded trail towards the Gravel Pit the trails had been relegated to small streams. The conditions made moving up and down the gullies difficult. Looking back, I moved as best as I could in this section, but my speed was gone. Between the rain, my better, but still aching knee, and the cumulative 40+ miles I was struggling to move like a ‘runner’. Run, walk, run. Run walk run. It became a game to simply keep moving forward as fast as I could possible move, the only thing that was clicking was my mood. I was happy. As the cats and dogs fell, I laughed.
As I reached the Gravel Pit, I had passed another three runners. The #trailsroc crew recognized me right away, grabbed my drop box and brought it over to me as asked what I needed. They told me I looked great, and to keep up the good work. It felt great to be so close, to hear such kind words from a few familiar faces. The crew here was working hard, and the food smelled so delicious. They tried to offer my my headlamp, but I insisted it wouldn’t be needed. I was determined to closely match my morning effort and finish this section under an hour. This would put me into the finish before dark. I am pretty sure Ron looked at me like I was crazy. Then, the three runners I had passed decided to leave the aid station ahead of me. In a moment of short shortsightedness, I decided to throw some salt potatoes into a cup, with some M&M’s, and head down the trail right away. I was still very hungry, and needed more food, which is why I was so disappointed when I slipped down a small hill about 500 yards away from the aid station. During the stupid fall I threw all of my food into the woods. All that was left was the crushed cup and 1/2 of a potato, smashed, and dirty. Of course, I ate the dirty potato and moved on. I was really hungry, and after a quick inventory realized all I had left on me was a single GU. I made an agreement with myself that I would be allowed to eat it at the 2 mile mark. While I knew I would look back on that potato throw someday and laugh, I think that the lack of food this late in the race was starting to mess with my mind. My knee was definitely functioning better now and I was putting together a decent running pace. I was pushing myself to finish under 13 hours (dark), since I had not grabbed my headlamp. The only issue now was the lack of nutrition. I was getting paranoid that I was missing turns. This was the section I ran in the dark earlier in the day, without a headlamp, and I had little to no memory of the turns. I stopped no less than three times and walked back and forth 20-30 yards to make sure I hadn’t missed a turn. In all three cases, I was just fine, and on course. As I reached Hope lake Park, I could see a runner out ahead of me by a few hundred yards. I decided that I would speed up and catch the runner. As I approached him I realized it was Guillermo. He had passed me without my knowing coming into the Lift House AS. As I passed him near the bridge we cheered each other on, exchanged a fist bump, and I went on my way to the finish. 12:55, 5 minutes before 7pm, and with plenty of day light. My friend Liam, and my family were there waiting for me. As always, the feeling of peace, and satisfaction of finishing an effort like this is overwhelming.
Normally I would feel horrible after a race like this, but so many things went wrong. Given the events leading up to the race, and the series of problems thrown at me during the race day I feel completely satisfied with my finish. Even now, weeks later I honestly don’t have any regrets about how that days leading up to the race, and the race day unfolded. I feel certain that I did everything I could to toe the line that day, and manage my way to the finish.
Lastly, I have to say that the race was extremely well managed. Race information on the website is ridiculously accurate and helpful to first time racers. I suggest investing time in reading, and then reading again and again. I recommend this race experience to anyone who can prepare themselves for what is a difficult, unrelenting but beautiful course.
Suunto Elevation
Running Lucky 