Lapped By the Sun:
By John Prohira
Lapped Again
"The moon was out and I saw some sheep.
I saw some sheep take a walk in their sleep.
By the light of the moon, by the light of a star.
They walked all night from near to far.
— Dr Seuss
Race day blossomed last Saturday 20 degrees hotter and almost twice as humid as the one last year. Still it made perfect sense to 244 people to line up at 4 a.m. at Smoke Rise Farm for the 11th running of the Vermont 100 Mile Trail Run. So into the woods and the foothills of the Green Mountains we went before dawn that day. For the next 100 miles and for up to 30 hours at various aid stations in these woods we were coddled, nurtured and nourished, body and soul. In between all we had to do was keep placing one foot in front of another and moving relentlessly forward towards the finish line. And that is part of the simple beauty in running an ultramarathon. One knows the rules: Here is the start, there is the finish and it's up to you. There is no room for "shucking and jiving" and some room for luck, good and bad, but for the most part the effort and result lie within. I like the simple and uncomplicated. I understand that stuff. Still it's only sometimes that I understand what ultrarunner Suzi Thibealut means when she says "There are times in our lives when we are drawn uncontrollably to some dangerous source of misery." When "out there" for hours on end it can seem as if the task at hand is the most important one in the world or the stupidest endeavor ever undertaken, but usually somewhere in between. But I ramble so early in this race review, I usually save that for the end.
Here's what really happened: Larry Weis and Linda Vallee, two very strong, capable and determined individuals, and I left for Vermont after work on Thursday, July 15th for the 7 hour trip. I'll only tell their stories to the extent of saying that I thoroughly enjoyed their company. We slept in on Friday and went to the farm in the afternoon for the pre-race physical, trail briefing and dinner. Before race numbers are officially dispensed the runner must submit to a weigh-in and blood pressure check. These numbers reflect the runners general conditioning and serve as reference points when they are checked for signs of distress later in the race. A 6% lost in body mass gets the medical crew's attention and that runner is required to sit down and attempt to replace some of his lost weight, generally by imbibing copious amounts of fluids. A loss of 7% of original body weight and the runner's race is done, no negotiation. Gain weight while running these distances and again you'll get noticed by the medical teams; this could be an indication of kidney distress, something that can happen when coupling dehydration, heat, muscle breakdown and ibuprofen abuse.
During the trail briefing we were reminded that the foremost rule we were to follow was to have fun and that all proceeds from this event were to benefit Vermont Adaptive Ski and Sports who offer recreational opportunities for people with disabilities. I've had the blessing of being exposed to a couple of these people. The VASS personnel and their clientele are great sources of inspiration.
After dinner consisting of lots of pasta, fruit and ice cream it was back to the hotel for sleep and the wakeup call at 2 a.m..
This year I paid closer attention to my surroundings before, during and after race than last year. We again were treated to a pianist playing on the outdoor patio of the farm's main house before race start, but this year I noticed that he wore formal attire, a tuxedo. And there were fireworks going off in an adjacent field 10 minutes before race start. Same as last year? I don't remember, but a pretty cool sight. At 4 a.m. we began our long journey under a cloudless, moonless but starlit sky. It was understood that heat and humidity would play a large factor in this endeavor. I made sure that I took gram quantities of electrolyte supplements on the hour and drank anything and everything offered. I purchased a bandanna on Friday that had been folded in two and had a chamois-type, water absorbent material sewn inside it. There were openings large enough on both ends so that ice could be added there. This I kept wet and as full of ice as possible all day, I wore it most of the time around my neck but also would untie it from time to time wearing it atop my head or rubbing it over my hot face, shoulders and arms. This worked well in keeping my core temperature in check.
When we came out of the woods into the full heat the air was stifling. It was hot. I backed off my original plan of attempting a faster run this year than last and bided my time. We runners know more about one another than we probably need to know but I'll still share this tidbit with you: I drank and drank and drank and sweat constantly and did not stop to urinate until the sun went down that first day. And yet all was well. It always amazes me what stresses the human body is capable of withstanding while running long distances, but one must be attentive to the details of maintaining electrolyte balance, hydration and fueling. All manner of food was offered us from fruit, sandwiches, candies, soups, cheese and crackers, chips and cookies as well as CLIF bars, Power Bars and Gu. But in that weekend's heat I had no appetite. I'd was able to force a sandwich down here and there and some fruit, but the GU was not easy to get down. After awhile I shivered at the thought of tasting any more of that paste, but I knew I had to. So it was taken like my kids take medicine, with a "screwed up face" and lots of choking and gagging. I could make myself swallow it and wash it down and it worked. I remained vertical throughout the race and moving forward, always forward.
I'm told that temp's reached the high 90s with humidity over 65%. As last year there was also a horse race on the same course but this year only 6 riders and horses completed their 100 mile distance, all the others were pulled or dropped out early with the heat being the biggest factor in that decision. This run through the Green Mountains is advertised as being the gentlest trail 100 miler on the East coast.
Although there is between 14,000-15,000 ft of vertical climb and an equal amount of descent over the course it can be very runnable and not all that technical. The course is one big loop consisting of 75% dirt road/Jeep trails, the rest being wood trails with 2 miles of pavement.
Now factor in Mother Nature's contribution with the weather and ouch! This was one very tough race to finish. Please don't misunderstand me; the race was not without wonderful and meaningful rewards but I have never felt so bad and stressed so early in a long race. On average people were getting to the checkpoints three hours later than they usually do. But then night fell and the temp's dropped a little and it became a little more comfortable. Now headlamps could be seen on occasion off in the distance ahead or behind adding a comforting charm to running/walking/shuffling along alone throughout the night. I could hear horses in the fields sometimes but couldn't always see them. Bullfrogs sang in the ponds and the crescent moon sank beneath the western horizon early, I think by midnight. Lots of time to think and wonder why. I've found recently that I don't really mind keeping myself company on these long journeys into the night.
At times my imagination would attempt to tell me that the noises I heard in the night woods were sounds of my being stalked.
I saw deer, fox, opossum and raccoons cross the trail after dusk. At one point I couldn't help but notice that my headlamp's light was attracting moths and other flying insects and soon after my insect companions were enticing bats to dive about my head, grabbing easy supper. As always come 2 a.m., my body wants sleep and for me the biggest challenge is to remain awake until second dawn and running rebirth. I talk to myself, quote philosophers like Dr. Seuss and hold on. I experimented with some of the suggestions that Dan Wittemore had told me of. Dan paced me in last year from mile 69 and was doing the same this year for Linda, the perfect man for any 100 mile "virgin". I mimicked Dan at times, and turned off my headlamp and enjoyed the complete darkness of the night; the full star filled sky, the ambiance of the woods. I thought myself one with the forest.
Every ultrarun is an adventure. Something is always different. This time I learned the importance of staying on trail. During the day I got off trail twice and was lucky enough to realize it before too much back tracking had to be done. If you go off trail you must retrace your steps to get back on if you are to remain honest to the challenge. During the night after the 80 mile aid station we had to turn from dirt road into one of the many meadows on the course. I got confused as to where the trail was and found myself much to my chagrin standing and then sinking into a pile of cow manure. This was no normal "cow-pie" but many, many, "cow-pies" that had been picked up and placed into a HUGE pile and Mrs. Prohira's boy Johnnie sunk into this organic matter up over both his socks. Needless to say this kinda upset me, got the blood boiling so to speak and ended up helping me over the next wooded climb. I decided not to take the shoes and socks off but to weather this event. I knew my feet were blistering and I thought it better to leave the barrier of my shoe intact against the manure and this was the correct choice. After the race's end I removed my shoes and sock to find blistered feet but clean ones, untouched by the misstep off trail. But I felt and smelled like a farm boy. When the sun came up I began to run again and found myself at race's end 22 minutes faster than last year's finishing time. Go figure! A tough day and night and another morning. I was lapped by that sun again, but really didn't take offense at that. This year only 44% of those starting the race finished. 109 out of 244. I'm so thankful to be one of those finishing. And as always such an interesting group of people show up for these things. I spent the afternoon running with a fellow from France who spoke the minimum of English, yet we communicated somehow and enjoyed each other's company. An hour or two was spent in the company of Japanese runners, then there were those running their 10th, their 11th Vermont 100 Mile Run. All extremely positive people, beautiful people and I don't just mean in a physical sense. Grandmothers and a twenty year old man-child from California. All with their heads pretty much screwed on right. Very gentle people who recognize the beauty and rewards of struggle, of challenge. Runners who like those greeting the weekend dawns in Bushnell's Basin and in Greece who understand the value in what we do with our bodies. Oh well, almost enough said about the weekend.
I'll finish with this quote I like a lot.
"When we walk to the edge of all the light we have and take the step into
the darkness of the unknown, we must believe that one of two things will
happen. There will be something solid for us to stand on, or we will be taught
to fly."
— Patrick Overton
This weekend past 78 men and 31 woman, 109 long distance runners were reminded that they could fly.
peace, John