Final thoughts from Vermont

Gratitude, loss, and long runs

Last Saturday, on what would have been race day for the Vermont 100K, I went out for a different kind of adventure than the one I had been anticipating. Rather than a well-marked course, I followed my own path covering 20 miles over steep gravel roads and impossibly beautiful forest. 

The cool thing was that I ran exactly the way I hoped to run during the early stages of the race. Months of patient training paid off on long climbs, allowing me to tap into free flowing downhill speed. On the intermediate rollers, I devoured 4-6 percent grades just like Avery said I would after all those brutal treadmill workouts. 

It felt good to be validated for all that training, but it felt even better to be moving with full confidence. Fitness is like a passport that can take you anywhere you want to explore. It doesn’t have to be applied strictly to a race. I mean, it’s pretty hard to be upset when you’re cruising through the Vermont hills with a smile on your face.  

Approaching an overlook, I came upon a group of students doing conservation work. They cheered for me when I ran up the hill and offered their campsite as an aid station. After thanking them for their hospitality, I ran down the hill with a full heart into the greenest valley I’ve ever seen.

Can’t be mad when this is your playground.

After a few hours of running, my family met me in a trail side parking lot and provided crew service from the trunk of the car. They’re the best crew ever and I’m not just talking about providing assistance during races. Still, coming into the makeshift aid station with my son sprinting ahead to make sure my bottles were prepped and ready was pretty great.  

Restocked and hydrated, I finished the day meandering through meadows filled with wild flowers and exploring interlocking trail systems. At one point, I’m pretty sure I spotted a bear cub ahead in the distance. (I did not wait to confirm whether momma was around.) 

As I made my way up the final big climb to the peak of Mt. Tom, the 100K was the furthest thing from my mind. Just being here and experiencing this run made me happy and grateful. 

Showing Lena where I spotted a bear.

Later on, while I was recovering from the run with a lovely view of the hills, I watched the day go by and thought about how my race may have unfolded. We’ll never know for sure, but it could have gone something like this: 

3 p.m. Six hours in, getting hot and sunny at what should have been the halfway point. Would I have arrived at Camp 10 Bear beaten and drained, or focused and strong? Some local trail friends were scheduled to work the aid station and I felt sad about not being able to experience their positive energy.   

4:30 p.m. Out of nowhere, torrential sheets of rain spread over the valley, dumping more precipitation into an already saturated environment. I felt a shiver and then a sense of relief spread over my body. Kinda happy to not be out there at the moment if we’re being honest.    

6 p.m. Following the rain, the sun came back out to have its final say. The downpour may have provided temporary relief, but the heat and humidity were back with a vengeance. This was my race right here. The big test to see how well I acclimated my mind and body to the elements. 

8:30 p.m. Sunset. The final push into the night hours with everything on the line. This was the part I was looking forward to the most, a chance to explore my limits in an unfamiliar environment. Talk is cheap, and maybe I shouldn’t say this out loud, but I have to believe I would have crushed it. 

Yeah.

I’ve been sorting through a range of emotions over the last week. It feels premature to write about them since I don’t really know where to put them yet. One emotion I haven’t felt throughout this whole experience, however, is anger. Frustration, yes, although it passed quickly. Disappointment and sadness: check and check. But anger? Not for one second. 

I have full confidence that the race committee explored every option and legitimately had no other choice except cancellation. Some of the towns on the course were devastated by flooding. Others had boil water advisories in effect. Not to mention the numerous road closures in the area. 

It wouldn’t have merely been impractical to hold a race. It would have been potentially dangerous for runners and crew. It also would have been selfish to soak up resources that were better applied elsewhere. There’s a massive difference between choosing to suffer for personal validation and having suffering thrust upon you. 

So, one thing I’m not is angry. There are options worth exploring and we’ll get to them in the coming weeks. For now, I just want to sit with the Vermont hills for a little while longer. I have a feeling I’ll be back soon. 

View from Mt. Tom.