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Showing posts with label aonijie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aonijie. Show all posts

Saturday, August 29, 2020

No Buckles, No Support, Just the Darkness and Lots of Miles: Batona Out and Back FKT



"Disclaimer: I received Science in Sport isotonic energy gels to review as part of being a BibRave Pro. Learn more about becoming a BibRave Pro (ambassador), and check out BibRave.com to review, find, and write race reviews!"



I made the announcement not too long ago here on my blog, on an Instagram post, and on the FKT website that I was planning to make an attempt at the Batona trail self-supported out and back Fastest Known Time (FKT). As I write this, it’s been a week since the actual attempt and I am happy to report that I exceeded the highest tiered goal I set for myself! My top goal was to complete the 106ish mile route in under 24 hours. I was able to do so finishing in 22:46:42 bettering the supported FKT time by over 4 hours! It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t until I was nearly at the finish that I was sure it would happen, but I made it happen nonetheless.

Why was I so nervous and so uncertain over running what most trail runners would call flat and fast running terrain through the New Jersey Pine Barrens? The main reason for me was because this was going into unchartered territory for me figuratively. I had already run every step of the Batona trail multiple times so I was familiar with the trail and the terrain. However, this was my first time wading into the FKT world. I was going for the self-supported record meaning I could not receive any aid from pre-arranged people helping me. Additionally, it meant I would be alone for the entirety of the attempt as the FKT website states that “if a person is accompanied or paced for any distance, it automatically becomes a Supported trip (accompanied = paced = Supported).” The challenge of running through the night in the Pine Barrens by myself without aid stations to break up the miles and without any human contact scared me. Yes, the thought of the Jersey Devil roaming the Pine Barrens crossed my mind, but more concerning to me was the fear of drowsiness and exhaustion taking over while my motivation completely dropped off.

Artistic interpretations of the Jersey Devil

Being familiar with the trail prior to my attempt was a benefit, but it raised another concern: the fact that I knew how easy it was to inadvertently leave the trail. The Batona is a pretty well marked trail with pink blazes, but there are a lot of unmarked intersecting trails, fire roads, and fire breaks that look pretty much identical to the Batona. I knew that staying alert and constantly being aware of the trail blazes was going to be essential to my success.


Lastly, I was so nervous about this FKT attempt because this was my first run of an ultra distance in over a year. My longest training run since Eastern States 100 in August 2019 was about a 23 miler. With it having been so long since my last ultra distance run I wondered if I still had the drive to keep going when exhaustion set in. I usually escalate my race distance as the season continues, running a few 50ks, 50 milers, and/or 100ks before going for a 100 miler, but this year was different (thanks COVID). Without that gradual build up, I wasn’t sure how my body or mind would react to the challenge of a 100 miler let alone a self-supported one.

I tried to have all of the logistics in place well before even beginning my attempt. This involved having a packing list for what was in my car at the start, what was in my aid drops, what was in my hydration pack, and what was in my car waiting for me at the finish. It also meant planning out where all of my aid drops would be, my driving route to drop them all off, and how I would find them again while running past them. I packed five waterproof first aid boxes with gels, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Honey Stinger waffles, FBomb nut butters, and mint gum. These, along with a gallon of Gatorade and Shaklee Hydrate+, caches spaced about 10-13 miles apart would serve as my aid stations for my 100+ mile run. 

At the start!

Making the cache drops ended up taking a bit longer than I expected. When I mapped the route from my home to all of the aid drops and then to the north terminus of the Batona trail the total driving time according to Google maps was about two hours. I knew it would take a bit longer to actually do as I would have to park, stash the aid, and mark it, but it ended up taking about three hours total to complete. I tried to make this FKT attempt as relaxed as possible. Since there was no set date or start time to adhere to, I decided I would take a couple days off work when the weather looked good and go for it. My plan was to go to bed early the night before and get a good night’s sleep waking up without an alarm. Then eat a good breakfast, make the drops, and start running whenever all that was finished. I ended up making waffles for the kids then eating breakfast with them before leaving the house a little after 9am.

Starting to run was easy and felt good after all of the driving and preparations. I went out at what felt like an easy and maintainable pace, somewhere between 9-10 minute miles. It was faster than what I needed to do for my goal pace (about 13.5 minute miles) necessary to run a sub 24, but it felt like my pace at the time and I wanted to move. I quickly realized that I had not picked the most opportune time to go for this FKT. We recently had a pretty serious tropical storm with some very high winds pass through the region which resulted in many downed limbs and trees. After finding several pretty good size trees across the trail during the first 10 miles or so, I knew they were adding time by climbing through the limbs or going out and around off trail. I also knew that as I became more tired they would add more time. Not only were they adding time with every one I had to climb my way through or go around, but each one was also another opportunity to be the unwilling carrier for additional chiggers that I was picking up likely everytime I went through the brush off the trail. The little buggers wouldn’t bother me while I was running, but here I am a week later with my legs broken out in a terribly itchy rash from my ankles up to my mid thighs. 

Making my first aid drop!

I tried to rush through my first aid drop as quickly as possible. I devoured half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and chugged my electrolyte mix after filling my bottles and exchanging my empty gel packets for full ones. A short time later I realized I may have eaten and drank a bit too much too quickly. My belly felt full and sloshy as I continued to run. In hindsight, this may have been the best mistake to make at the perfect time because it forced me to check my pace a bit before any symptoms of over exerting myself too early set in. The rest of the afternoon got a bit warm, but went without incident as I continued to try to move quickly and efficiently.

I took my hydration pack off for the first time when the sun was just starting to set to get my headlamp out. I had decided while running that this would be the ideal time to get my phone out as well and provide my wife with a wellness check and say goodnight to the kids. I was about 35 miles in at the time and the miles were beginning to take their toll on my mind and body. With this being my longest run in over a year, the thought of turning around and just doing a 70 miler had crossed my mind and didn’t sound like such a bad idea. I was hoping the conversation would help give me a bit of motivation. Maybe it was because it’s been so long since the last time I ran through the night or just the fact that this was my first solo FKT attempt, but my wife seemed genuinely worried about my safety in the middle of the Pine Barrens overnight. I assured her that I felt safe, hadn’t seen anything that would make me question my safety, and had some safety gear just in case. With that she was more supportive and encouraged me to finish, but it almost felt like I had to convince her to convince me this time. I said goodnight to my boys who gave me some well wishes then got my phone packed back away to continue on into the night. 

All prepped and ready to go!

It was well after dark by the time I got to the south end of the trail, my turn around point, and I had been moving for about 10 hours and 40 minutes. I felt good that I was well ahead of pace, but knew the second half would be tougher than the first. I took my longest aid station stop at this point because I had a towel and a 2Toms lube wipe stashed there.I did my normal fluid and calorie routine and then freshened up a little with the towel. I used the 2Toms anywhere I was feeling any hot spots; thankfully no major ones.

Overnight was the toughest part of this challenge for me. Not that the terrain had changed much, but it seemed like more portions of the south are multi use as a fire road. These portions seemed to have more frequent dips resulting in deep puddles stretching the width of the trail for lengths of up to 15-20 ft. I felt like anytime I had a decent running rhythm going, I would hit one of these massive puddles and break my stride to try to tiptoe around it to avoid getting my toesies wet. I know the simple answer to fix this is to run through the puddle, but tend to get blisters when I run with soggy shoes so if I don’t have to get my shoes soaked I do my best to avoid it. 

Calling my shot.

Besides the puddles, the night went pretty well other than when my head started playing games with me. Using a brighter headlamp (Nitecore 550 lumen) than my old one I was used to revealed a lot more in the woods than I am used to seeing. I kept seeing all so many reflective eyes in the dark and they seemed to be staring at me. At first it didn’t bother me at all. I just told myself it’s a deer (which I’m sure they were) and continued to run. But as I got more tired my mind started tricks on me and creating other scarier scenarios that became increasingly believable to my tired mind as the night went on. During those predawn hours as I was looking forward to the sunrise I had considered the possibilities that I was being stalked by a mountain lion, followed by a pack of coyotes, or that a big cat had escaped from the Six Flags Safari and was now living in the Pine Barrens.

Besides the tall tales I was creating in my mind, the night was peaceful. The night sky was clear and the stars above the lake clearings were beautiful. There were so many stars and they were so bright away from any lights that I took a quick moment to stand by one lake clearing and switch off my headlamp to enjoy the view for a few moments and mental pictures.

Even with all of my planning and marking to avoid missing my aid stops, I still managed to miss the second one during my northbound journey. Thankfully it was cooler overnight and I was drinking far less so it didn’t bother me too much; just surprised me. I was also pretty tired of gels at this point so I still had enough to keep me going until the next aid. Because of that missed aid drop, I covered nearly half (about a 23 mile section) of the northbound miles without any aid replenishments. 

The northern terminus.

By the last few hours of darkness I was feeling pretty physically exhausted and just plain tired. When it started to get light again I could feel a bit of rejuvenation and motivation to finish coming with it. With the four quarters of my total run clocking in at about 4:37, 6:01, 6:18, and 5:50 respectively, the two middle quarters of my total attempt were my slowest. I would attribute at least some of that being due to the night running and overnight drowsiness. Thankfully, my motivation to finish returned with the daylight. Although I was tired and in some pain, I would force myself to pick up the pace and at least “run slowly” everytime I caught myself walking. Then I would ask myself “Is this a walk in the woods or a FKT attempt?”

With about 20 miles left to go, I was sure I was going to finish sub 24 and also knew that sub 23 was possible if I kept my pace consistent. Everything had gone really well for it being my first self-supported FKT attempt. I only veered off trail once overnight and figured it out pretty quickly, like maybe after a tenth of a mile or so. But now with only a few hours to go until finishing I began to recognize a problem. My Suunto Ambit3 Peak will last 20, 30, or 200 hours depending on the accuracy it is set for. With this being an FKT attempt, I figured more accuracy is better so I set if for the most accurate which should have lasted 20 hours. I knew I would take over 20 hours to finish so I brought a portable battery and charged my watch for a few hours overnight. It still seemed a bit low in the morning so I left the charger connected while I continued to run.

Finished and kinda exhausted.


















However, it didn’t seem to be taking a charge. It seemed to be more or less just running on the connected battery. I got a bit worried when it became readily apparent that my watch wasn’t going to recharge off of the portable battery. I’m pretty sure it was an issue with the portable battery as I’ve used this method with my watch before and it has worked no problems. I didn’t want to lose my evidence of this FKT with only a few miles to go if my watch died so I left it connected to the charger. I was contemplating getting my phone out to record a Strava activity on the phone app and use that second GPS file from that activity as proof if necessary. Although it made the last 10 miles or so kinda stressful, I got pretty lucky and it wasn’t necessary; I arrived at the north end of the Batona trail with my watch battery connected to the portable battery and a remaining life of 14%.





A common description I hear about 100 mile finishes is how anticlimactic the finish can be when considering the enormity of the task. I haven’t done the research to assemble the statistics on crowd size at 100 mile finishes compared to marathon finishes. Anecdotally and based on my personal experiences at the two types of events, the crowd size at a marathon finish has always far surpassed the crowd size at any 100 mile finish I’ve run. I’ve had a 100 mile finish when it was just the two race directors there to congratulate me. I’ve heard stories of runners finishing a 100 miler to only find a volunteer there sleeping that they had to wake up to get their finishing time recorded. Based on my experience and the stories of other 100 mile finishes, I was prepared for an empty and somewhat insignificant appearance to the finish for this FKT. As expected, it was the most empty 100 mile finish possible; it was just me arriving at a completely empty trail head. My car was the only one in the small lot. I ran from the trail end to the final mile marker (Ong’s Hat Rack) and stopped my watch. I didn’t put my hands up in the air or even give a victory shout. I just sat down on the bench there and thought to myself “I did it!” And in the end, that’s all I really wanted. I’m not that interested in the swag or finishers’ medals that come with races. The cheers and motivation from other runners and volunteers are great and very much appreciated, but the main reason I do any of this stuff, whether it’s a race or a personal challenge, is to test myself. The majority of my gratification from running and my motivation to pursue running challenges is to see what I’m capable of and to test what I believe my limits to be.


Last mile marker!

That wraps up my first FKT experience, but I want to just give a quick summary of my nutritional intake during the course of this run. It was probably the least amount of real food I’ve ever consumed during the course of a 100 miler. The only real food I ate was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a couple Honey Stinger waffles, and a FBomb nut butter pack. The rest of my calories came from fluids and gels. In total, I ate 15 gels (mostly SIS). This totaled about 4,677 calories over the course of almost 23 hours. I’ve heard the body can only process about 200-300 calories per hour and if that’s the case I guess I was almost right on target with my calorie intake. If you want a full breakdown of my calorie intake, check out the super cool table that I put together below!

Scott Snell
August 29, 2020



Carry in, carry out!


Quantity

Description

Calories Ea.

Calories Tot.

Caffeine (mg) Ea.

Caffeine (mg) Tot.

2

Honey Stinger waffles

150

300

X

X

4

Honey Stinger gels

100

400

X

X

1

Honey Stinger gels (caffeinated)

100

100

32

32

3

SIS Double Espresso gels

90

270

150

450

5

SIS Apple gels

90

450

X

X

1

SIS Salted Strawberry gels

87

87

X

X

1

Boom Apple Cinnamon gels

110

110

X

X

1

FBomb Salted Chocolate Macadamia

210

210

X

X

1

Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

350

350

X

X

2.5

Gallons Gatorade & Shaklee Hydrate+

960

2400

X

X

Totals:


4677


482







Saturday, June 22, 2019

2019 Run Ragged Last Person Standing

At the finish!

“A lot of people decry competition as a negative thing. It’s not. You come to love your competitors because you’ve been through this hell together. You don’t want your competitors to quit, but you need them to quit. These things are going on in your head at the same time. That’s a little bit evil. A total mindfuck, runners say.”


-- Gary Cantrell aka Lazarus Lake


Forty-two. It is the "Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything", at least according to Douglas Adams in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It was also the number of runners that arrived to run the inaugural Run Ragged on June 13th in Berlin, CT at the Ragged Mountain Trailhead. Maybe it’s a bit of a coincidence in a sense because I’ve found that longer distance ultras are an excellent means for me to believe I’ve found the "Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything", at least at the wee hours of the morning after exhaustion sets in and my fragile mind starts getting somewhat loopy.

The event was a slight twist on the last person standing race format made explosively popular recently by Courtney Dauwalter and Johan Steene’s amazing performances (279.168 and 283.335 miles respectively) at the 2018 Big Backyard Ultra hosted by the evil genius Gary Cantrell aka Lazarus Lake. The race format requires runners to complete a 4.166667 mile loop in under an hour. The beauty of the rather seemingly random distance is that in exactly 24 hours you’ll have run exactly 100 miles. Sounds pretty easy so far, but every hour the race restarts and all runners must do it again and again and again until all but one runner remains. The last runner to finish one lap more than any other runner becomes the sole winner; all other runners receive a big fat DNF (Did Not Finish). Is it fair? Maybe not. Could it be soul crushing? Maybe so, but that is how the race format works. In fact, there could be no winner at all if a final group of runners goes out and none of them make it back before the one hour cut off.


The RDs of Run Ragged added a few twists to the format making it a bit unique amongst the abundant crop of so many new races that have popped up recently which are nearly exact replicas of the Big Backyard Ultra format. Where the traditional format uses a daylight trail loop and a night road course, Run Ragged used a single trail loop for its entirety. Most last person standing races use a relatively easy 4.166667-mile-long course. Run Ragged opted for a more challenging 5k loop. It was a shorter distance, but from what I’ve heard of other last person standing events the terrain and elevation gain (≈ 500’ per lap) made it a tougher course. While a good portion of the Run Ragged course was runnable, it was not easy or mindless running. The more runnable sections were broken up by technical stretches, short and steep climbs, and some tricky descents. 

Just before the start.
The Run Ragged course is made up entirely of the New England Trail (NET) and NET side/connector trails. The NET was designated a National Scenic Trail in March of 2009. The course starts at the Ragged Mountain Preserve trailhead following the red/blue Ragged Mountain Preserve trail for about 0.78 miles. Then just before turning onto the yellow/blue Ragged Mountain Preserve trail you are treated to a pretty welcome vista overlooking Lower Heart Pond. This stretch of trail is roughly about 0.85 miles and in my opinion seemed to be the most technical and unrunnable stretch of the course. After that you hop onto section 15 of the NET for about 1.52 miles. The course wraps up by following the orange/blue Ragged Mountain Preserve trail for the last 0.68 miles. Now I know what you’re probably thinking, “That equals a total of 3.83 miles! You said it was a 5k loop!” Let me explain. These distances are based on the trail map on the Ultrasignup registration page. The NET trail map itinerary page confirms the distances of the yellow/blue and orange/blue trails, but the course only uses short portions of the other two trails so their distances can not be confirmed there. My gps data was pretty close to what the RD had said, that it is a 5kish loop so rather than going round in circles indefinitely (pun intended) over this topic, I’ll leave the discussion of distances there. 

Map from the Run Ragged registration page.
First things first, let’s get the obvious on the table. A last person standing event is nothing like a normal race. In fact, after running this one as my first I even question calling it a race at all. I first became interested in the format when I listened Billy Yang’s interview of Guillaume Calmettes following his win at the 2017 Big Backyard Ultra. Then after following Courtney and Johan’s epic battle in 2018 I felt I needed some of that in my life. I applied for the 2019 Big Backyard Ultra and so did many other more qualified ultrarunners. I was disappointed to not even make the waitlist, but thankfully many last person standing events starting popping up all over. I figured that if I ever want to be selected to run at the Big Backyard Ultra inTN, the best way to do it is to earn a spot there by building my resume. So I jumped into the most local last person standing event I could find, Run Ragged with every intention of being the last person standing. I know I’m not the most talented runner out there and I don’t follow a strict training plan or specific diet. But I can be extremely rigid and single minded once I have my mind set to something and I hate the idea of giving up or quitting. The way I saw it, these qualities may give me a distinct advantage over far more talented and better trained runners than myself so why not just go all in?

Another finish to an early lap.
The start of the race was strange. The 5k loop was easy to do within the allotted hour at a relaxed pace even with the technical single track and the elevation change. I didn’t push myself to get it done faster than I had to and was getting it done comfortably in about 45-50 minutes during all of the daylight hours. My strategy was to do as little damage to my body as possible early on so I could last as long as possible. This meant not exerting myself if it wasn’t necessary. It meant being careful of foot placement with every step to minimize impact and avoid any unnecessary damage to my feet to curtail foot pain in the later stages. With this strategy in my head, my mind was on the long game. Mentally I was already wondering if this would go into a second overnight run and was telling myself to be ready for it if it did. With the 10 minutes or so that I had between laps I spent my time taking selfies, refueling, and rehydrating. I ate a mix of real food (whatever was available at the aid station: Doritos, pizza, rice soup, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grilled cheeses, oranges, etc.) and Science In Sport isotonic gels. For hydration, I mainly drank the Skratch that was provided at the aid station, but I also brought some iced coffees and coconut water to treat myself to a little variety of refreshments.

One of the earlier starts when it was done to just three.
I felt this early strategy served me well, but it was hard to reel myself in. A few laps I did run a bit faster, but when I got back and spent more time in my chair I didn’t like waiting around to go back out. So I decided then that I would move slowly and consistently rather than race around just to wait to race again. The race format was messing with me even early. It felt like a super mellow group run for the first 10 hours or so. You’d go out, run comfortably with a few people chatting it up then sit down and refresh for a few minutes before doing it all again. Often, it would be with an entirely new group or you’d have one or two new additions to your group. Rarely did I find myself alone or stressed before the sunset. Yet that overall mellow and carefree facade was just a cover that this relentless monster of a race format uses to lull you in to a serene mindset that will likely be your demise as it continues and ultimately reveals itself as the cruel beast it is. As a cynic, I knew this and never trusted this race format for what it appeared to be near the start. I checked my watch more often during this race than any other race I’ve ever run (other than the 2017 Batona 50 where my watch crapped out on me). I decided early that I would not get sucked into its false sense of security.

The "Three Amigos", me with my bananas.
And that’s basically how day one went, from 9 AM until sundown. The only other stand out moment I feel I should mention happened during one of the midday starts. As everyone was heading out after the whistle blew we were passing by a family that had been out for a trail walk and stuck around to watch the start of a “race”. A young rather perplexed looking girl in the family watched all the runners shuffle by, many with either an Icee pop or slice of pizza in their hands. “This is a race?!” she exclaimed in a baffled tone as we passed. That single phrase and how she said it had me laughing for a good part of the next lap.

Heading out again.
Then it became dusk, headlamps came out, and soon after we were into the night running portion of this competition. My pace and strategy didn’t really change much over night. I was kinda looking forward to the night portion of the race because I hadn’t run through the night since my last 100 miler (Mines of Spain) back in October. There’s something about running through the night on trails with nothing but your headlamp to light your way that I love. I love how it is a release from all of my normal day to day worries. When I’m trail running through the night all that matters is forward motion and getting to where I’m going. My entire universe reaches only as far as the light from my headlamp. The other reason that I was looking forward to the night was because I assumed that’s when more runners would start dropping and I’d be able to edge closer to a win. This turned out to be true and I found myself alone on the trail more and more often as the night went on.

The aid station at the start of the event.
For the first mile on one lap overnight I decided I would keep pace with the dwindling lead pack as they went out from the start. After that mile, I said to myself “No more of that. My strategy seems to be serving me well, why change it now?” Not that I knew if my strategy was better, but I wanted to find out how long I could last without risking blowing myself up. The only other highlight from overnight that I want to point out was the volunteer that was stationed as the overlook cliff guard from about 8 PM to 4 AM. This dude was full of energy and had Coke and Mountain Dew shots lined up for us every time we passed. He had a cowbell to ring leading up to his station and a cymbal to hit as you were exiting. He was an aid station hype man and just what ultrarunners need during those low points at the wee hours of the morning. He even hyped up a midnight drink special he had planned for us. It turned out to be apple cider vinegar with a sprinkle of cayenne pepper, I think? It doesn’t sound good, but it was oddly refreshing at the time.

Preparing to head out again.
After 52.7 miles and 17 hours we were down to four runners by the early hours of the morning. As daylight broke I realized how many runners we had lost overnight and how few runners remained. Then three laps later after the sun had risen we lost one more. It was now down to the final three. The three of us would continue to battle mentally and physically with ourselves and with one another for nearly another 50k before anyone finally gave in. During those nine laps the three of us all went out together. I can’t speak for where the other two were mentally, but I was feeling isolated for a good part of those laps. The other two runners were more local, had a girlfriend/wife with them (at some point), and seemed to at least be running friends with some of the volunteers. I went solo to this race and it was my first race in CT so I was meeting all of these people for the first time. In my mind at the time that seemed like a huge advantage for the other two runners. Especially when a volunteer started reading Facebook posts from their trail running group rooting for the two of them. It was hard not to feel like an outsider in that moment. But a few people that I had just met less than 24 hours earlier stepped up and gave me encouragement. One person in particular who I had only chatted with online a few times previously went out of their way after their final lap to let me know they were betting on me to win this thing. It may have not seemed like much to that person at the time, but at some of my lowest, loneliest moments it helped keep me going.

Brushing my teeth has never felt better.
My absolute lowest point of the race was the 25th lap. After 24 hours of running without sleep and not having a finish line in sight, it all started to catch up with me. The other two guys were both consistently finishing their laps faster than me and had more time to regroup between laps where as my pace had slowed and I was typically coming in with about five minutes to spare. Mentally it was wearing on me and I began to think it was only a matter of time until I didn’t make a cut off. Before the one mile mark of that lap I almost turned around and walked back to the start to quit. But I didn’t. I figured I’m almost a mile out, I might as well finish this lap before I quit. As I passed the new cliff guard volunteer I announced that this would likely be my last lap. She tried to encourage me, but I didn’t pay it much attention. I decided to call my wife to tell her I was ready to take my first DNF. After a short conversation with her I agreed to finish this lap and to keep finishing laps until I got timed out. Talking to her and my two sons lit a bit of a fire in me for the remainder of that lap and I moved well until I got back to the restart. Then it was mostly lows again. At one point I actually sat down on a log that was across the trail and told myself that if I sat there long enough I wouldn’t be able to make it back in time and I would be able to quit without saying I quit. But I got off of that log and ran it in before the cut off. Some of this mental anguish may have been due to nutrition as none of the aid station food was sounding good anymore and I hadn’t eaten much real food since the soup in the early hours of the morning. Thankfully I guess I started to recognize this and fixed it by devouring bananas, leaving every start with a banana in my hand and sometimes with one in my water bottle pocket as well.

And again...
At every break between laps I would try to size up the other two guys. They were both getting more recovery time between laps and neither were showing any signs of quitting as hard as I looked for them. Which is why it was so unexpected when one of them (Joseph Nuara) finally threw in the towel after 29 hours and 89.9 miles. It nearly brought me to tears when he said he was done, but once I started running the next lap it gave me a spark. It was now down to two. As we headed out for or first lap as the final two I told the other runner (Matt Pedersen) that however this thing ends, it’s been real. I wasn’t sure if we were playing mind games with one another or just chatting anymore, but Matt and I were talking about this race continuing into another night and whether we would be able to continue to do the loop in under an hour after dark. I wanted to show him it wouldn’t be a problem for me so I picked up the pace on that lap and came in with over 10 minutes to spare. It began to rain again as we went back out for our next lap and then it rained heavier. I continued my faster pace wanting to convince him that the last faster lap wasn’t just a fluke. Surprisingly, he slowed way down for this lap and I finished before him for the first time. I was convinced he did it just to mess with my head and was going to come in just a minute or two before the cut off to make me think it was nearly over when it wasn’t.

An early photo of the overlook at Lower Heart Pond.
He came in with about eight minutes to spare then sat down in his chair like normal. I was going through my normal routine of drinking water and taking in calories when Matt came over from his chair and said the words "take your victory lap". Without thinking, I immediately got up and gave him a hug. I could try to express the emotions I felt right then in my own words, but I believe Cantrell said it best already: “A lot of people decry competition as a negative thing. It’s not. You come to love your competitors because you’ve been through this hell together. You don’t want your competitors to quit, but you need them to quit. These things are going on in your head at the same time. That’s a little bit evil. A total mindfuck, runners say.” The relief and strangely the disappointment when I finally knew there was an end in sight was a surprisingly emotional experience and overwhelming; I couldn't hold back tears and had to wipe my eyes a few times and recompose myself before heading out for my final lap. A few minutes later when Matt counted me down to go out for my final lap I was all smiles. I recall excitedly telling everyone how I was finally going to run this course. Knowing that the finish line was there gave me a burst of energy that I had no idea was still available to me. That last lap (39 min.) was my fastest of the 32 laps (99.2 miles) that I ran during the entire event.

This was the start of the first lap with only two left, just after Joe counted us down and sent us on our way.
I’ve probably gone on longer than I should have already for this race report, but I like to close all of my race reports with some kind of take home message or a lesson learned. Here are the words I wrote just before 6 AM Monday morning after the race when I arrived home with only four hours of sleep since the finish. After rereading this post, I still feel like this sums the event up pretty well.


“After a four hour drive broken up by a four hour nap in the car at a rest area parking lot on the garden state parkway all following a 32ish hour "running" competition, I brought this baby home. A beautifully crafted momento of an event that will be hard to recap into words. But now, while they are fresh and raw I have the main takeaways from this race: 1 - it was the first race that I have ever had to deal with the pressure of chasing cut offs, which is a completely different feeling than failing to meet your self imposed time goals; 2 - it was the first race during which I seriously contemplated dropping for extended periods and was on the verge of dropping on several occasions; 3 - it was the first race that has ever brought me to tears. I was close to tears when Joe dropped, but the relief when Matt said the words "take your victory lap" and I finally knew there was an end in sight was overwhelming and I couldn't hold them back. So many thanks to the RDs, race organizers, the CT Trailmixers, emergency personnel, and all the volunteers that made this an amazing experience for so many. All of us runners are in your debt. Now it is time for a long overdue shower beer!”

A beautiful award. 

Scott Snell
June 22, 2019