As I pass by Harrisburg on my drive up to Waterville, I got beeped at by a passing car. This was right where a bunch of highways merge and split off and I’m thinking “uh-oh, did I just cut someone off?” (it’s happened before). The driver flashed me the peace sign though so he probably just noticed my stickered up tailgate. It’d be an amazing coincidence if the guy was going to the same place. Well, turns out the driver was none other that 6x ES100 finisher David Lantz.
Saturday morning I saw the largest shooting star I’ve ever seen about 20 minutes before the start. It looked like a firework it was so big.
With these omens to start me off, I was obviously primed for a great race.
Spoiler
I did not have a “great” race finishing in 32:17 for my 7th ES100 finish. This was four hours slower than my dream race (28 hours), 2 hours slower than my best time, and in line with my 2023 finish. Going into the race, I really thought I had 30 hours in the bag. If you’re interested in Eastern States, then you’re probably like me in that you don’t set easy goals. The bigger and more audacious, the better. What this means in practice is that you rarely achieve what you set out to accomplish. The past decade of setting unrealistic goal times means I’m used to coming up short. So while my finishing time may not have been what I fantasized wanted, I truly did have a great race.
Race Thoughts And Amusing Ancedotes
I’ve written a lot about Eastern States over the years in addition to my race reports so I’ll try to avoid rehashing the same things I’ve already written about (i.e. SkyTop pancakes are to die for!). This is a race that I’m passionate about because of the course, the community that is continually growing, and the organization that runs it. Every year that I come back, it’s a little bit better. This year it was Friday afternoon activities, pre-race lights in the start/finish restrooms, and Ben’s finish line MCing. This world class race organization never rests on its laurels.
My goal time translated into a 16:18 average pace so that’s where I wanted to start. The first couple sections are among the harder ones so I wasn’t too worried when my pace drifted above this. My focus was on getting to the halfway point at Dry Run feeling good rather than coming in on pace and feeling a bit worked over. I did a good job of running within myself and not letting my watch dictate my effort. I practiced acceptance that I wasn’t physically strong enough to handle the elevation gain/loss and moved as easy as possible. I came into the race with a great overall volume block, but did not incorporate much hill work/strength training. I’ve been able to run better later in races recently and hoped (prayed?) that my improved endurance would carry over. Well. . . . lesson learned: don’t skip leg day, people.
Considering my experience level with this course, you’d think I’d know it like the back of my hand. You’d also be wrong. Early afternoon I almost missed a turn as I was completely zoned out, but another runner behind me yelled ahead and brought me out of my stupor (thanks, Joe!). Unfortunately, he was too far behind me when I missed the turn off the power line section. The same turn I have missed in a prior year. I noticed the trail wasn’t mowed, looked behind me, and saw a runner making the turn about a quarter mile back. Bother. I also completely forgot how technical the drop down into Cedar Run was. I remembered it as an easy downhill run when in reality it’s a long quad bashing, stride stifling shuffle downhill.
Most runners don’t know Kimberly, but all runners know the Fuzzy Friends Club. Every year that I’ve run the race, she’s been out with her stuffed animals cheering on runners about a mile before Ritchie Run. It’s cute. It’s wonderful. It’s unique. It’s a singularly joyful spot on the course. I started getting choked up telling her how much her support has meant over the years. It’s among my favorite parts of this race. Actually, let’s do my top 5.
Top 5 Sections Of ES100 Course
- Final quad killing mile descent into the finish. Nothing sweeter than knowing you’ve
conqueredsurvived this course! - Two mile downhill off the climb out of Lower Pine Bottom. Easiest section of the course in my opinion.
- Fuzzy Friends Club. Pictures really can’t capture the feel of this emotional oasis in the middle of a mountain hundred.
- View from Gillespie Point. Only available to the back half of the pack.
- View from Big Trail AS. Only available to the front half of the pack.
Owning My Headspace
Everyone knows that you need to be mentally strong to run hundreds. I’ve realized that the mind can have a significantly adverse impact on performance so I’ve spent a lot of time over the years analyzing my thoughts during ultras trying to figure out which are innocuous and which leads to mental spirals. A lot of times the answer is “it depends”. For instance, thinking how far you have left to go at mile 10 can be kind of funny, however it can be crippling at mile 60. I know from past experience that tracking average pace can be a negative trigger for me so I’m careful in how I use it. By the time I reached Dry Run (45 minutes after my target), I had been looking at my average pace less and less since it was steadily climbing well above my goal time. At mile 55 it was 17:01, so I flipped my Garmin display over to time of day and never gave it another thought. Overall, this was my most enjoyable ES100 and maybe the most fun I’ve ever had running a hundred. I spent the entire time just running tree to tree, aid station to aid station; never really keeping much track of what mile I was at or how much farther was left to go.
Now that’s not to say I didn’t have any issues. Hundreds, especially Eastern States, is almost a physical war of attrition. Within the first 4 miles, the technical trails had rubbed the outside of my left ankle raw. The inside of my left ankle got clipped by my right foot often enough that another spot appeared there. I gagged on a couple gels and almost hurled after a salt pill got lodged halfway down. My quads were thrashed by the end (seriously, don’t miss leg day people). There were several cuts on my hands and arms. Then there was some mild chaffing “back there”. And this was the best physical shape I’ve ever reached the finish!
I finally figured out the river crossing. Or at least I finally figured it out during a low water year. After my dunk tank experience in 2023, I decided I needed a better strategy than hope for the best. This time I kept one pole in my left hand with my right in the harness as I crossed. I was also able to see the rocks clearly as I was going across which let me keep my footing.
The old adage is nothing new on race day. The only problem with that is during long ultras your time tested tried and true will eventually fail you. Then it’s up to plan B, C, D. . . you get my point. For some reason, water was the only fluid that tasted good after Lower Pine Bottom. I didn’t like the Tailwind and Ginger Ale/Coke only worked for short stretches. When I got to Tombs Flat, they had some LMNT packets on the table. I asked to try some watermelon flavor in a bottle and it tasted good. The volunteer asked how much to put in my bottle and I said just dump the whole thing in there. If a little tasted good, the whole thing should taste great. I discovered the truth of that a mile into the longest section of the race. Sigh. Luckily, it was cool out and I was able to make it into Cedar Run on one bottle of water and a couple sips of the overly concentrated LMNT mixture. A lot of times success can be chalked up to just surviving your mistakes.
This section is where my late race endurance started to show up. After the hard climb past Slate Run (still wishing I hadn’t skipped leg day), there’s about four flat, chill miles. It’s not very technical and I ran virtually all of it with only a couple short walk breaks. I hit the first mile and was mildly disappointed my split was only 17:08. That’s fine. There was probably the end of the last climb at the beginning. Surely my next mile will be much quicker. . . 17:06. The next mile flew by and . . . 17:06 again?!?! It’s really, really hard overnight to accurately judge how quick you are running because you have virtually no perception of distance outside a 20 foot sphere of light ahead of you. What seems really fast is in reality the pace your neighbor walks their dog. At least I had the most consistent splits from mile 69-71 (I dare someone to prove me wrong).
SkyTop is my favorite aid station in all of ultrarunning. It’s not because of their food though, but their white glove service. When you enter the aid station, you are met with not one but two volunteers. The first is there to ask what you need: food, fluids, chair, footcare. You know, the normal volunteer experience. The second volunteer is there to take your poles and follow you around with them until you’re ready to leave. Yes, that’s right. SkyTop is the only aid station in all ultrarunning with a caddie! It’s literally taken me seven years to get used to this. At some point, I’d love to spend more time with the Listers, but this is a race and the clock is always ticking.
Finally, there are glass half empty people and there are glass half full people. Pessimists don’t run hundreds though and ES100 finishers need to be I don’t know what glass you’re looking at but this one’s filled to the brim. My previous couple finishes have been fast enough to get me to the top of Gillespie Point before sunrise. Thankfully, I was slow enough this year to get the best view on the course. Enjoy!
Awesome job! I really enjoy reading your posts.