I ran my first “real” trail run at Monocacy Hill on a Wednesday Night Run with the Pacers (probably 2019?). I ran my first ultra at the Pacer race we all know and love, Blues Cruise 50k, in 2021. And I DNF’d my first race ever at Eastern States 100 in 2025.
ES100 was on my radar since I first got into trail and ultra running. It’s a bucket list race for a lot of trail runners, and it’s relatively local, so a lot of my badass friends have run it or attempted to run it. I knew I didn’t want to jump straight into a 100M, so I spent some time running shorter ultras (ha) before I pulled the trigger and signed up in 2024. Then lovely Hurricane Debby spoiled our plans. Ok, so I guess I’ll run ES in 2025.
Leading up to the race, my training went really well. I won’t say I felt confident, but I felt as ready as I could to run a hundred miles in the woods on a technical course with 20,000 ft of elevation. Even the week leading up to the race and the night before, I didn’t really feel anxious, but excited and ready to go.
On race day, everything was completely fine. Not great, not good, not bad, not terrible. But fine. The weather was warm and humid, but not out of the ordinary for PA in the beginning of August. I got some hot spots/blisters pretty early on, but nothing devastating. My nutrition and hydration plans were working out, and I got through the first 43 miles without any major problems.
Steve Vida jumped in to pace me at mile 43, and by mile 45 the wheels were coming off. (I cannot stress enough that Steve is a wonderful pacer, and my downward spiral had nothing to do with him. He is truly great and all would be lucky to have him.)
I found myself in a funk I could not pull out of. I cried for…..7 miles. Steve said it was only 2, but I know he was only saying that to be nice. Physically, I was fine. My legs were tired but no more than at other races. I wasn’t having stomach issues either. The biggest problem was my brain and convincing myself to keep going.
My reason for running has always been because it’s fun. Yes, there are plenty of times I don’t want to keep going, but that feeling goes away by the next mile. Or rather, the end goal is worth the suffering, and that’s part of the fun. What do you do when your main reason for running goes out the window and no one is forcing you to go on but yourself? (And maybe also Steve when he won’t let you drop 8 miles earlier.) In the woods at ES, I looked at my watch and said, “I have to keep doing this for FIFTEEN to TWENTY more HOURS?!” and that’s where despair set in. So I quit.
I’ve thought a lot about the race over the past three weeks. Do I regret dropping at mile 58? No. Would I have done a lot differently both leading up to and during the race? Absolutely. Am I someone who never finishes a hundred mile race? Maybe? I’m not saying never again, but I’m also not itching to sign up for a redemption race. Right now, I’m going to focus on races that I think will be fun. I guess if I had to sum up my feelings and experience of my Eastern States 100 DNF, I’d have to say “medium.”
Around 9am Saturday, Brandon parked his car in a nearby development, and we walked approximately .75 miles to the start of the Historic Brandywine Trail. Neither of us had run any of this previously, but we knew we were looking for white blazes. The beginning part of the trail was well marked and we got through the first few miles with very little trouble.
Our spouses (shout out to Katie and Mark!) generously agreed to crew for us, and they first met us around mile 11 with water and more food. The beginning portion of this route was predominately road, and, while Brandon and I prefer more trail, it was relatively easy to navigate. We did second-guess ourselves a few times, but we didn’t have any major issues until we got to a section of trail with a sign indicating the trail was permanently closed; we followed another trail that closely paralleled the original and did not have to deviate very far.
Shortly thereafter, we met our spouses at another “aid station” around mile 18 and continued on our way. Again, following white blazes at this point was easy, although around mile 20 we noticed that there was a slight discrepancy between the blazes and what was shown in the .gpx file. Another slight re-route occurred about 2 miles later, when we got to another section that was posted as “Closed from October-January due to deer season.” We were able to skirt around the section by following the road and linking back up with the original trail maybe half a mile later.
We came to our third “aid station” at the Pocopson Post Office/Ace Hardware/Veterinarian around mile 25, grabbed some more water and food and were on our way. This section proved to be the most difficult in terms of navigation and terrain. Around mile 30 we came to a part of trail that should have been an easy crossing of the Brandywine Creek by way of a bridge; however, the bridge was under construction, aka non-existent. We spent several minutes trying to find a good spot to cross the creek; fortunately we found a spot that wasn’t very deep, but we did have to backtrack a bit in order to do so.
After the bridge debacle, we continued on, and once again the route was a balance of pavement, gravel road, and single track, but the blazes were placed much more sporadically, and the trail was not well maintained. This led to a lot of time spent consulting the .gpx of the route, bushwhacking, and second guessing whether or not we really were in the right spot. Around mile 32 we encountered our biggest navigational error of the day, when we missed a faded blaze that indicated we should have turned right. We ran along a gravel road for about half a mile before realizing our blunder and needing to backtrack. At some point we crossed into Delaware, although there was no line indicating that (or fanfare) as I had hoped.
Eventually we found Katie and Mark at our fourth and final aid station around mile 32. At this point, we knew we were only a few miles from the end and it was getting dark, so we grabbed the bare necessities and kept moving.
We hammered as best as one can after 35+ miles and eventually found ourselves in Brandywine Creek State Park around sunset. We were happy with our efforts but after 38.5 ish miles we were also really happy to meet Katie and Mark at the car and call it a day.
Editor: At the end of last year, while searching for fun events online, Kelly Ammon stumbled upon the Ragged 75 Stage Race in New Hampshire–a 3-day event in August that featured some serious climbs, camping, and a whole lot of fun on some New England trails. After spreading the word, she convinced a couple other Pacers to sign up as well. One of those Pacers was Steve Vida.
Vida: I love a themed run or an odd-format race. So when Kelly approached me last year at the Pacer Christmas Party and said she found an interesting 3-day stage race in New Hampshire, I signed up that same night.
The Ragged 75 Stage Race is over 75 miles with 15,500 ft of vert split across 3 days, making one big loop back to the starting point. At the end of each day, there is a defined location to camp overnight, and the race director carts your gear from one site to the next. There are a lot of logistics involved with putting on this race, and I thought the team at Six03 did everything needed to provide a great experience.
Editor: Brandon Beane was also intrigued by this unique event.
Beane: After signing up for it, past experiences cycled through my mind. 75 miles over 3 days seemed reasonable. I’d done 50 miles in a single day, so how bad could 75 in three days be? Then I also thought back to how achy and sore I’ve been the day after running just a 50k. No matter how much I justified my ability by my past experiences, I knew I was in for something new. Luckily, when Kelly started chatting about the race, she had been able to convince Steve to join in as well, so we’d all be suffering in good company.
(Left to right: Brandon Beane, Steve Vida, Kelly Ammon)
Editor: How did the format make this race experience different?
Beane: This was the first race I had ever done that had equipment requirements prior to heading out on the course. The race director required all runners to have a raincoat, along with your phone, a map of the course, and a blister kit (I thought the blister kit was kind of silly having never used one). You also were required to camp where each leg ended, so you needed a tent and any other camping equipment you require that they would move for you each day to your next ending location.
Vida: This race is best enjoyed as a group. I got to run the first few miles with Kelly and Brandon each morning as we eased into the day’s task, and we often crossed paths again later. Late in the day, I couldn’t wait to get back to camp to rehash how we did and strategize about the next segment. Because this format was new to all of us, we talked constantly about how to approach different aspects of the race. At the start of day 1, we were already worrying about day 2 and day 3 issues. This led Kelly to lay down the mantra: “We don’t talk about tomorrow.” We’ve got to put the shoulder to the wheel today.
Editor: What was the first day like?
Vida: Day 1 had rain – some during the day and more overnight.
Beane: Thankfully it calmed down for the actual start of the race, although it did sprinkle a few more times throughout the rest of the day. Ironically, at the top of the first climb which was up Ragged Mountain, I felt a hot spot on the back of my heel and used my trusty blister kit (which really was a life saver and I will never go to a race without again). According to my watch, day 1 clocked in at 24.6 miles and 4967 ft of climbing. I had originally planned on going super easy on day 1 and 2, and then pushing day 3 if I had anything left in the tank, but after day 1 it was clear that I had already deviated from my plan and that day 2 and 3 were going to be sore and slow going.
Editor: How about day 2?
Vida: It was tough to start the second day by putting on shoes and a vest that were still wet from the day before. But you put them on … and you run. I usually have pre-race jitters, but here I was too busy packing up my tent and my gear and getting them on the truck. Before I knew it, we were snapping a Pacer group photo and heading down the road. We all anticipated soreness on day 2, but it wasn’t too bad once you got moving. What I did not anticipate was how much my calorie and hydration deficit would accumulate from one day to the next. I would give this more attention next time around.
Beane: Surprisingly day 2 didn’t feel awful, and only got more comfortable as the day went on and my muscles warmed up. The weather was ideal, no rain and nice mild temps. Day 2 according to my watch was 23.8 miles and 4245 ft of climbing. At the end of day 2, I continued with my post race stretching, my massage gun, and lots of lying around.
Editor: And what about the final day?
Beane: Day 3 was rough to start. The stretching and massaging the night prior wasn’t enough to counter the previous two days worth of miles, and day 3 was the longest leg with the most climbing. With a twelve hour cutoff, I felt confident I’d finish, but figured it would be a long day and set a goal for myself of 10-10.5 hours to finish. Similarly to day 2, I did start to loosen up some as the miles passed. Day 3 stats according to my watch were 34.08 miles with 6339 ft of climbing in 8h 42m. Post-race festivities were music, food, and beer!!
Editor: How would you characterize the terrain of the course? And the scenery?
Vida: The course had a lot of variety. Every day included a few miles of road, but also at least one peak with some climbs that weren’t runnable (by me) on the way up or the way down. Poles were helpful. There were some great views. Some parts felt just like Pennsylvania forest, and others felt a little foreign. It’s not an easy course, but we had 12 hours to complete each day’s segment. We did hear comments that some years have brutal summer temperatures and humidity, but this year was pretty mild. It still took me 9.5 hours for the last day’s 33 miles.
Editor: Overall, would you recommend this event to other Pacers?
Vida: I’d recommend this race to most people–unless you already hate camping. I wanted to find out if my 53-year-old body could run for 7 hours, sleep on the ground, and then get up and do it all again (and yet again). As of 2023, the answer is still “yes.”
Beane: All said and done, the Ragged 75 was an amazing experience. The course was beautiful, the organizers and volunteers were amazing, and it was great to spend time and hear stories from like-minded people who were enduring the same miles, climbs, descents, bee stings, aches, and pains as yourself. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Who’s coming with me?
After running Dirty German 50M in May, my plan for the summer was just to take it easy. No goals. No training schedule. No races. The plan was going smoothly until one day a notification popped up on my Facebook feed. (Damn you Targeted Ads!) Big Woods Running Club was having a Memorial Day special on their TrailFest. I could now suffer just as much but for less money! Perfect!
I immediately texted Andy Styer, fellow Pacer and one of the race directors.
[Actual transcript]:
Me: I can’t decide if I should sign up for your 10k or do the 3 hour one. Lol.
Andy: Well…the 6 hr sounds like fun : )
Me: Hahah. I’m trying to be responsible/take it easy
The morning of the race, I couldn’t have asked for better weather. I mean, I guess I could have, but it was mid-June in Pennsylvania and the humidity was less than 300%–in other words, ideal. Jokes aside, the weather for race day really was perfect and made the day much more enjoyable. I arrived at the course about 45 minutes before start time, made my way to check-in, got my race bib, and was handed the softest t-shirt I’ve ever owned. After moseying around for a little while before start time, I made my way to the port-a-potties and then the start line. The line really was magnificent: someone’s heel dragged across the ground to indicate a clear “start” and “end.”
“It doesn’t need to be fancy. If you’ve got a love and appreciation for nature– and at times like to saunter, walk, jog, hike, run, dance through it–that’s what matters.” –Kelly Ammon
I know my tone does at times lean towards sarcastic, but sincerely, the dirt drawn start line really was one of the best things about the day and a great reminder of why I love trail running. It doesn’t need to be fancy. If you’ve got a love and appreciation for nature– and at times like to saunter, walk, jog, hike, run, dance through it–that’s what matters.
My goal for the race was to complete 3 laps in 3 hours, and I knew the course would make that a challenge. In the early spring I did a group run at Coventry with the Big Woods Running Club, so I was familiar with the course. There is a lot of climbing in the first half (~900 feet of vert/lap) and the second half, while downhill, has plenty of rocks and roots to keep you on your toes. I really, really love this particular type of course. I knew if I could make it through the first part with its challenging climbs, then I’d be able to make up some time on the latter half of the course. Since it’s a time-limit race, I knew my biggest challenge would be the clock. In order to complete 3 laps in 3 hours, I’d have to push it each and every lap. Typically, I like to ease myself into a race–start a bit conservatively, get faster gradually, and then, if all goes well, hammer at the end. With a 3-hour limit, I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to ease into it. What if my first comfortable lap made it impossible to run 3 in 3? I decided the best strategy was to hammer from the start until the wheels came off, and that’s exactly what I did.
The first lap of the race I ran as much as I could, only power hiking on the steepest climbs. I definitely pushed, making sure to set myself up with enough time to finish my third lap. On the last half of the first lap, I shared a few paces with the guy who would go on to be the first male overall for the 6-hour race. (Important to note first male overall, because our very own Karin Tursack was the real OVERALL winner for the 6 hour race! #goals #You’veBeenTursacked)
He mentioned how he wasn’t usually into “racing” but, damn, he really wanted to get the dinosaur trophy. At that moment, he perfectly summed up my feelings towards this race. I usually race against myself: I have my own personal goal I’d like to beat. Then I have goals B,C, D, E, F etc. if/when the wheels fall off. Never do my goals for a race include finishing before x # of competitors or in xth place. It’s always me against me. Except maybe when there’s a 3-D printed trophy of a velociraptor on the line, and, in that case, hot damn, I wanna win.
“When there’s a 3-D printed trophy of a velociraptor on the line…hot damn, I wanna win.” –Kelly Ammon
I made it through the first lap comfortably under an hour. I knew I had set myself up for success for the second and third laps, but I didn’t want to relax too soon. I cruised through the aid station and on the next climbs, tried to toe the line between all-out aggressiveness and being too conservative. It’s usually the mid-race miles that I struggle with the most. The first few miles, I am high on the energy of the crowd and the event. The last few miles, I am driven by the idea of being over this sh*t. The middle miles can be a cesspool of pain, doubt, and stomach agitation. This is usually the point of a race where I begin reciting a mantra. Science extols the benefits of a positive mantra. Sometimes mine is “happy pace, happy face, happy race.” However, more often during this point in a race, my mantra is “pick up your feet, dumbass.” In these middle miles it becomes so easy to get lulled into complacency and tiredness with your feet; the next thing you know you’re doing a Superman sprawl into the rocks. (I always seem to fall during the “easy” parts of a race. Give me a technical downhill and I’ll send it; I’m much more likely to trip over my own feet on a marginally bumpy gravel section of trail.) Fortunately, my only fall in this race came as I was slowly walking uphill and only resulted in some slightly skinned palms. Shout out to fellow Pacer, Fred Foose, who fell, finished his 6 hour race, got beers, and ONLY THEN got four stitches in his finger. What a BEAST!!
I finished my second lap well under 2 hours and was feeling pretty good. Even if I resorted to power hiking every single climb of the last lap, I was pretty certain I’d be able to finish 3 laps in 3 hours. The little voice in the back of my mind kept me from taking it completely easy, but I was able to finish my third lap within 3 hours. As I crossed the finish line, I double-checked with the race director and he assured me I was done with the race and confirmed I was the winner of a dinosaur trophy!!! I wish I didn’t care so much about a plastic velociraptor trophy, but I’m sorry, dinosaurs are cool, and I’m glad I have a trophy commemorating them. Without dinosaurs, we couldn’t drive. In all seriousness, Coventry Woods Trail Fest is an amazing event that I would recommend to anyone. The race directors, volunteers, and members of the Big Woods Running Club are some of the best, friendliest, most caring people you will ever meet; the course is great, but the people are what make this race truly special.
“Dinosaurs are cool, and I’m glad I have a trophy commemorating them. Without dinosaurs, we couldn’t drive.” –Kelly Ammon
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