Tag: race report

Oiled Up Pacers: A Collaborative Race Report from the 2023 Oil Creek Trail Races

by pagodapacers

by Matt Brophy, Jason Karpinski, Steve Vida, Cody Harris, Brittni Harris, and Michelle Henry

MATT: This was my third trip to Oil Creek in as many years. In 2021, Steve Vida and I headed out there with our crews, as we attempted to complete our first 100-milers in what turned out to be a rainy mudfest. The following year, I went back as a pacer for Steve, as he gave it another go, and we were joined by Michelle Henry (Steve’s sister) and her niece (Steve’s daughter) who both ran the 50k. This year there were FOUR Pacers competing (Cody Harris, Jason Karpinski, and Curtis Musser in the 100-miler; Michelle Henry in the 100k), and several more playing supportive roles (Brittni Harris, Lisa Domeshek, Julia Hager, Sheri Golembiewski, Steve, and myself). How could we not have fun?

Matt, Michelle, Steve, Jason, Julia, and Lisa

Let’s hear from Jason, first, the only one among the 4 Pacers competing with prior experience at a 100.

now that’s a power-nap

JASON: My experience at Oil Creek was drastically different than my first 100-miler at Eastern States last year. The most noticeable difference was that the course was far less technical with a lot less climbing. This made for a much quicker pace throughout the entire race–so much so, that I set a 9-hour PR in this distance.

Jason and Curtis at the start

The start of race day was far from smooth as I forgot my phone in the car, which was needed to show a picture of my ID in order to acquire my chip-timing anklet. Once I retrieved my phone, I forgot why it was needed until we began to walk to the start line from the school cafeteria at Titusville Middle School. Talk about panic! I immediately did an about-face and ran back in, where I heard many volunteers asking, “Are you bib #14?” With my timing chip secured, the race began promptly at 5:00AM.

Loop 1 began and we all broke into what we believed was a conservative pace along the bike path which led us into our first taste of the trails of Titusville. Every race begins with nervous energy in anticipation of what the race will become, and to me every early conversation feels like an icebreaker, whether or not you know the individual you are speaking to. This nervous energy was managed well as I did not feel as if my effort was over-extended. My shoes, Nike Zegamas, have a heel-cup with a hard plate which I never felt prior to race day. This plate began to dig into my left Achilles, and by the end of Loop 1 I had noticeable pain which caused uphill hiking to become difficult. This pain became an advantage as I realized I was able to jog uphill with less pain.

Loop 2 was much more of an adventure than Loop 1. With my Achilles becoming an issue, I pushed the pace through 47 miles. Then, all of a sudden a wave of tiredness washed over me. I held on for a bit before deciding to lie down on a trail-side bench. I put my feet on the back of the bench to alleviate the Achilles pain and set a timer for five minutes. When my timer rang, I looked up to see Cody trotting ever-so steadily down the trail followed closely by the third female runner at the time. [Editor’s note: Cody did NOT see Jason, and was later confused about how he got in front of him.] Immediately my timer was reset, and I slept for another five minutes. Once this 10-minute nap was complete, I proceeded down the trail and spent the next 9 miles stumbling and sleep-walking, until I reached a point at which I broke out of this zombie-like state: I opened my eyes and realized I was 10-15 feet off the trail. I told myself to snap out of it and push the next 10k back to the turnaround. This pep talk– or smack-me-in-my-face argument with myself–helped get me through to the next stage of the race.

Loop 3 was preceded by a change of shoes into my brand new off-the-shelf Altra Lone Peak 7s. Immediately I could feel the comfort difference. I knew the damage was done to my Achilles; however, I knew it would not get worse with the change of shoes. After a quick meal of grilled cheese, pizza, and noodles in chicken broth, washed down with a cup of Coke, I was off to complete the last large Loop. Sleepiness began to hit me as I rolled into the Petroleum Center aid station for the final time around mile 75. At this point I looked at Steve Vida and said, “I need you for the last 25!” I changed out of my wet clothes and into a dry shirt and rain jacket, and laid down on a cot until woken up by Steve at midnight as instructed. We began the final 25 miles by pushing the largest climb with a surge of energy in an attempt to drop the couple runners who left immediately after us. This effort worked, but potentially at the cost of too much energy expenditure. The next 16 miles became a battle of exhaustion vs. determination. I took three significant breaks which I can remember: 3 minutes sitting on moss-covered log; 5-8 minutes by the fire at Aid Station #3; and most memorable was the final 5 minute rest trail-side in a pile of wet leaves. Patiently, Steve waited each time in the cold rain until it was time for me to continue.

STEVE: I was pacing Jason through the middle of the night, and he was getting tired.  And by that I mean sleepy. He already napped at the aid station before we set out on this segment, but that was hours ago. Now I’m watching him drift side-to-side on the trail like someone sleepwalking. Finally he says that he’s going to lie down and sleep. I’m trying to process what this means – because I’m tired too. But there’s no time to object, he’s already lying down, telling me: “Oh, this is kinda damp”, and he’s OUT. 

I struggled for a minute, wondering if we were making a mistake. But I settled on the thought that this is what he needs most right now. Then I spent the next 10 minutes just staring into the woods, listening to the rain fall on us, and laughing to myself about how we got to such a crazy, sublime, and peaceful moment. Eventually I started to get cold, so I woke Jason, he bounced right up, and we continued – much refreshed.

JASON: The final nap seemed to unlock a level I was not aware I possessed. With about 8 miles to go, we came out of the woods and onto the flat section around the Drake Museum. I began to pick up the pace as I realized there was one runner potentially catchable and a possible sub-27 hour finish. Steve and I dropped to an 8:45 pace as we entered the school. I grabbed food while Steve filled my bottles and we continued to push this last 7-mile loop. We completed the loop in an hour and 35 minutes with a final mile of 9:33.

restrained, methodical, and oh so strong

BRITTNI: The Oil Creek 100 was unknown territory for me, and I knew it would be fundamentally different than any other race I had experienced. I’m not new to crewing–over the past 9 years, I have crewed Cody in dozens of races. However, prior to Oil Creek, his longest race had been 100k, and he had always managed to finish before sunset. I had never crewed him overnight, and I never had to worry about  him being on trail for 24 hours. 

Heading into race day we had a plan, a back up plan, a color coordinated fueling schedule, and several milk crates full of food, gels, coke, water, shoes, socks, anti-chafe, band-aids, backup packs, and hiking poles. I was ready to go and tackle whatever the day sent my way. I even wore my best overalls with all the pockets, and stuffed them full of extra gels and gummy bears, just in case. 

The race kicked off at 5 a.m., and I watched Cody, Jason, and Curtis trot off into the dark. Michelle was running the 100k, which started just an hour later, but I was too nervous that I would miss Cody at the next aid station to wait and see the start. So,  I immediately left for Petroleum Center, and then promptly waited a good 3 hours before he showed up.

CODY: Oil Creek started out similar to Worlds End 100k. I was not as nervous as I was in previous years. I used to feel nauseous and have trouble eating the morning of big races. This morning I had my 2 small breakfast burritos and a cup of hot tea (not my normal English breakfast tea because Brittni forgot to pack it).

I believe Brittni and I were the first Pagoda Pacers to the middle school; we prepared my pack, and I did some pre-race exercises. Soon enough I saw Curtis and Jason.  We exchanged “good morning,” and went about our preparations.  At 4:45 I headed into the middle school to hear the pre race information. There was not much for the race director to say, so we headed out to the start line. After a few pictures with Jason and Curtis, we waited for 5 a.m. and the start of the race.  

Jason, Curtis, and Cody–ready for action

Loop1: From the start of the race, a group took off in front of me. It was a group of 5 or 6, which surprised me, because that was a pretty high percentage of a small field of competitors. I knew I should not go with them because their pace was not close to what I could do for 100 miles. So I settled into a comfortable pace which resulted in Jason, Curtis, and I running together for the first mile on an asphalt path. Soon we hit the single track trail. Jason led, with me next, then Curtis. Jason and I stayed in close proximity until we saw our crew for the first time, and I would not see Curtis again until brunch on Sunday.

I am not sure why, but over the first 14 miles my energy and enthusiasm was the lowest I had ever experienced at the start of a race. This state of mind could have been the result of a few things. It could have been the darkness. At Worlds End, it felt like the sunrise was instantaneous, whereas at Oil Creek, it felt like the darkness was never going to end. It could have been some fear because of what I was attempting, or it could have been the disappointment of knowing so many people were in front of me. I think it was a combination of all 3. Soon enough the sun did start to rise which lifted my spirits. Then came my first visit to Petroleum Center which got my head back into the race. At this point I was in 8th place. Brittni was ready with my stuff, and we made a quick exchange and I was back on the trail.  

The miles started to pass smoothly.  A female runner soon caught up to me, and this woman would do this for most of the first 100k. I would move quickly through an aid station and get a lead, then she would catch me a few miles later, but would not pass me. I did catch 1 person. It was clear to me that he had gone out too fast. After about a mile of him trying to run with me and at times messing up my flow by trying to pass me back, I pushed to create a gap that he could not overcome.

As I headed back to the middle school, I saw 3 of the leaders and they were nearly 2 miles ahead of me.

Loop 2: When I got to the end of the first loop, I realized I was hungry, despite the fact that I thought I had been eating a lot of gels and snacks. So I took a PB&J and some Fig Newtons from the aid station and headed out for loop 2.

I also realized my slow pace was not slow enough, and I would need to try to show more restraint on the next lap. I kept my attention on maintaining an easy pace, eating, and hydrating. At the water-only aid station, I nearly stepped on a 4-foot black snake. The young kids tracking bib numbers did not see it lying in the sun about 15 feet from them.

At about mile 58, I came across an individual from the lead pack at the start. I passed them, and said a simple “hello”  as I did not know what else to say because they were clearly hurting and their race was going awry. As I got close to the middle school, I saw Matt and in our conversation he mentioned that I passed Jason. This was a total surprise because I did not see Jason. For a brief moment I was very concerned that Jason may be missing.  Soon someone told me he was texting and he had stopped to take a nap on a bench, which I missed. At the end of loop 2, I was now 4th place.  

For the first time in a race I decided to change socks, and reapply bag balm to my feet. I kept the same shoes because they were dry and working for my feet.

BRITTNI: For me, crewing is a solo activity. It is incredibly boring and also exciting and nerve-wracking in the craziest way possible. The majority of my time is spent standing around staring into the woods, just waiting for Cody to pop out of the trees. Then he gets to the aid station, and it is a frantic scramble to switch  bottles, restock food, get him an extra layer, take the headlamp or give him the hiking poles. The scramble only takes a few minutes, and ends just as quickly as it started.  

However, the crewing at Oil Creek was different. It wasn’t just me staring into the woods waiting for my runner; it was a whole group of Pagoda Pacers supporting all of the runners. When I had a suspicion that Cody might not be eating enough, Steve and Matt were able to confirm it and urge him to eat more at the next aid station. When a runner would come into the aid station, one of us would refill the pack while the other one grabbed food from the tables. I was no longer a one woman army, but part of a team, and it felt wonderful.

Matt, Brittni, Cody, and Rainbow

CODY: I headed out for my 3rd and final 50k loop. Brittni warned me rain showers would arrive around 8pm, so I took my raincoat.  As I headed out the paved path to the trail, I came across another individual from the lead pack. I ran past him as he walked down the path. I was now in 3rd. Then, as I crossed a road, I heard a voice I knew shouting “Way to go!”  It was Jason heading in to finish lap 2.  It was great to see him, and see his enthusiasm.

From there I headed back out on the trail. Quickly the sun started to set, and I was back to running in the dark. Then, as Brittni had predicted, around 8pm the rain started to come down. I had to stop to put my raincoat on. As I was doing that, a headlamp started to catch up to me, but I started moving before it caught me. I think this was the woman that kept catching me after aid stations, and this would be the last time I saw her.

I finally reached mile 76 where I got to pick up Matt Brophy who would pace me to the finish. I arrived a little earlier than expected, which surprised Brittni and Matt.  While Brittni swapped out my bottles, Matt grabbed his gear, and without delay we were on the trail.  Matt and I talked a little bit during the climb out of the aid station, but I quickly fell back into my routine which does not include a lot of talking. The night started to get cold, and it continued to rain off and on. I found that while I was moving, I was warm, but I would start shivering if I stopped moving. So I had to keep going. The time sped by pretty quickly, but the miles were starting to wear on me and everything on my body started to hurt. I had picked up my hiking poles at the end of loop 2, and I was getting good use out of them for powering up climbs and support on the descents. I finished loop 3 and had completed 93 miles. So all I had left was the going home loop.

MATT: As I tried to squeeze in a few moments of shut-eye in the Harris-mobile, Brittni assured me Cody wouldn’t be arriving until 10 p.m. at the earliest. Moments later, I heard her yelling, “MATT! HE’S COMING! WAKE UP!” Luckily I had my running clothes on under my jeans and hoody, so I was able to strip down, chug a couple 5-Hour Energies, pop out of the car, throw on my pack, and join Cody on the trail.

“I just downed a couple 5-Hour Energies, so I should be good for 10 hours,” I told him. Apparently he and Brittni thought I was joking until they found the empty little bottles in the car later.

BRITTNI: The longest stretch that I was alone was between aid station 2 on lap 3, when Matt started to pace Cody, and the end of the race. I saw them again briefly when they came into aid station 4 to head out on the “going-home loop,” but then I was alone again. Everyone else was either on the trail pacing someone or getting some much needed rest. The alone time was a stark contrast from the rest of the race, when there were always a few Pagoda Pacers to chat with and pass the time. 

For a while I was standing at the middle school aid station drinking buckets of coffee and snacking on the gummy bears that had been riding around in my pockets all day, staring into the dark and looking for headlamps. But it wasn’t long before Lisa joined me, and suggested we do something more productive like go stand on the corner so we could stare at the darkness from a different angle, but ultimately see the incoming runners better.

CODY: The start of the “going-home loop” was more of the same. Matt and I worked our way to a bridge and the last big climb that Matt had been talking about since we left the aid station at mile 76. [“Wait til you see that hill,” Matt had said too many times. “It’s a real kick in the nuts!”] At this point Matt and I see 2 lights on the hill across the bridge. Matt immediately understood the lights had to be 2nd place, but I was in disbelief. We had been racing for 97 miles and I had not seen a 100 mile runner for over 30 miles (7+ hours). I told him they had to be out here for something else because in my mind we had been racing for 23 hours and there was no catching 2nd place. Everything switched when I heard the runner’s voice. It really was 2nd place! At that point, the race was on in my mind. We were climbing the hill, and I knew the runner was moving slower, but I did not want to be dumb and exhaust myself catching them, which sounds funny to say that knowing I had been running for 23 hours at that point and was already exhausted. So I kept a steady pace, eventually caught up, then passed the runner and pushed to try and create a gap.  Then, as I crested the hill, I forced myself to run, thinking the runner may try to catch me. So I ran for as long as I could before I needed to take a break and walk. From there, Matt and I headed back into the middle school and the finish line. At this point, most of the spectators had left or were resting up for their runner, but I was lucky enough to have Brittni and Lisa there to cheer me on. I finished 2nd in 23:29:22.

MATT: Cody was a total beast on that final hill as he moved into 2nd place and accelerated away from his demoralized competitor. I could barely keep up with him. I ran about 25 miles with him, total, and I’m pretty sure he ran the last 10 faster than the first 15. It was like he was getting stronger at the end as he smelled the barn (and a sub-24, 2nd place finish)!

Matt and Cody at the finish

BRITTNI: Eventually Matt and Cody rounded the corner, and crossed the finish line. I had never been more proud of him or more exhausted. I had also never been more grateful for the support and friendship of the ultra running community and more specifically, the Pagoda Pacers.

Brittni and Cody

is this article too long for you to finish? that’s ok–michelle’s race was too long for her to finish. so, you know, she gets it.

MICHELLE: My story about OC 100 isn’t quite the same story of Cody and Jason. In fact, it ends with a DNF – my second. And that’s OK (or so I tell myself). Weeks later I’m still l unsure how I feel about it, which has had me back and forth on whether I’d be contributing to this fun race report. Last night at 6:30pm I told Matt I’d try to come up with something. I, in fact, did not come up with something. I honestly just didn’t want to think too much about it. At 7:50 this morning, I told Matt to go ahead with the write up he had from others because I felt like I didn’t have much to contribute. Well, my exact text was “OK. Sorry I just don’t know what to say…Hi, I went into 100k with 150 miles for the year. Shit a lot, made it to 38, called it a day. Will be back next year.” So, if you don’t want to know more, you can stop there. That’s it in a nutshell.

But if you want to know the why and a little bit more, you can keep reading. I’ve been trying to get someone to write a DNF story for the newsletter for the last 2 years (while I avoided writing my own last year) AND a story of the heart that gets at what it means to be a member of the Pagoda Pacers.

While I didn’t walk away with the finish, I did walk away with: 

  1. Distance PR
  2. A wonderful weekend with the most supportive and best people I know
  3. A Pagoda Pacer experience that I have been wanting for a while 
  4. The confidence in knowing that I can, and will, get this finish next year 

Why would I sign up for a 100k with so little experience and training? Well, I blame it on beer and my brother. I mean, obviously it seemed like a good idea at the time. In that moment I had plenty of time to put in the work to be ready to accomplish this new distance. Here’s the thing: Oil Creek boasts tremendously generous cut-off times for the 50K and 100K distances. So, with me being a slow runner, I knew that if I’m going to tackle 100K, this is the race to make that happen. Also, I’m familiar with the course after being on it the previous 2 years – 2021 seeing the first half as a pacer (at least as much as I could see in the dark with rain dumping on us) and completing the 50K last year. It only made sense to go back out there a 3rd time with an increased distance goal. Plus, I already planned on being there since I was expecting to crew Jason for the 100-miler. 

Once Steve gave me the “It’ll all work out” when I was voicing my main concerns (read “excuses”) of (A) Can I make it 62 miles? (2) Can I do it within cutoff time? and (III) Who the hell is going to crew Jason now? I registered. 

As soon as I made it known that I was in, I secured my pacers/crew of my BFFs Lisa and Jules. They both pretty much told me they were taking on these roles, so I didn’t even have to ask which was perfect! And as an added bonus, I would have them there to celebrate with me at the finish line! I admit I had some reservations: Lisa is usually in bed by 9, so how would she handle the late night/no sleep crewing and pacing me the last 17 miles. Jules had been tackling knee issues as recently as 2 weeks prior to the race; can she go 14 miles with me overnight? Let me tell you, they both impressed and went above and beyond in their roles before, during, and after the race. In fact, I’m pretty sure they would have volunteered their stomachs–digesting my fuel for me–if it were possible, just to get me to the finish line. 

Race morning, all is well. We see the 100 mile runners (Jason, Cody, and Curtis) off at 5am, and now I’m nervously chatting in the cafeteria with Jules, Steve, and Sheri until it is my turn to start at 6. I spent the first hour or so of my run alone in the dark, singing to myself, making random noises and tapping my running poles together because any sound I heard was automatically a bear in my mind. Eventually the sun came up and I settled in to have a great time on this course that has become a favorite of mine, partly because it is beautiful and very runnable, but also due to the feelings of nostalgia it brings me thinking back on the experiences of the last 2 years we’ve been out here. 

I hit the first crew accessible AS and see Jules & Lisa at about 14 miles in (10:30am) and all is still good. I feel great, just saw all my favorite parts of this course, and now I get to see my BFFs and check on how our other runners are doing. It is shortly after this, maybe 5 miles out, that I had my first hint of GI issues – a first-time issue ever for me. After ducking behind trees quite a few times over the next 11 or so miles and taking in little food or drink, I get to a bridge and see Steve from a distance waiting for me. I tell him what’s going on, and he continues to encourage me by letting me know that I’m doing great, have plenty of time, and it’s still early enough to get food in me and still make this happen. I tell him to text Lisa to her know that I need to be sent out with a decent amount of TP for the second loop. 

I make it to the AS at the school to complete my first 50K loop at 12.5 hrs. This is about 30 min. behind what I was aiming for, but not bad considering the lack of training, all the unplanned nature stops, and the intake v. output of my body – ew. 

Anyway, while at the AS, I see Cody being tended to by Brittni. After taking time for a real potty break, footcare, ginger ale & ramen, and finding out the latest status of our other runners, I’m excited to head off and tackle the 2nd loop starting with Jules and show her some fun things on course. We have a quick fly by with Jason on our way out of the AS as he is coming in. Unfortunately, more of my GI issues continue, this time with basically 0 fluid & food intake, the addition of rain and darkness upon us, and temps dropping. We make it 7ish miles to the next AS where I am able to take in some broth and strawberries…but who knows if that will keep in my stomach and I know I’ll burn through that quick and be back to feeling as bad as I felt coming into the AS. I go back and forth in my head, but ultimately make the call to end my race there. My body is feeling the effects of about 18-19 total miles of minimal intake, and I know it just isn’t a safe or wise decision for me to go further. 

Jules and I hop into the nice warm car back to the school to meet back up with Lisa. Along the way, even though I know I made the smart decision, I can’t help but feel like I let my friends down.

After meeting Lisa at the school, the 3 of us head back to the caboose for some giggles and snoozes in between text updates of the runners still out on course until it was time to head to the finish line to wait for the last of our runners to cross…which the 3 of us ding-dongs ended up missing….oops! 

In conclusion, I made it 38 miles, which is a distance PR for me. I’m proud of what I accomplished, but not satisfied with the outcome. Does that make sense? That’s OK, I’m going back for the finish next year. 

__________________________

Enough about all that–here’s the part that makes my heart happy and my favorite takeaway:

Over the past few years, I have heard tons of fun stories and seen many pictures of Pacers traveling in globs to participate in races outside of our general area. I have always thought to myself, man I really wish these sorts of travel race experiences still happened. Of course there are some that do happen, on a smaller scale, but in general it is not a regular occurrence. At least not one that I’m a part of.  

Turns out, my wish came true.

What started out as one Pacer signing up, turned into 2 and just kept snowballing and packing on more Pacers to join in on the weekend of fun as competitors, crew, and literal pacers.

The weeks leading up to the race were filled with group texts, post-WNR conversations, and get-togethers to offer words of encouragement, pump each other up, check in on how everyone was feeling, make sure everyone had what they needed, etc. This amped up the anticipation of the weekend and the feeling that we were now all in this together. 

The long hours each crew spent waiting on their own runner were made less daunting by the company and laughter of the other crews also waiting in anticipation for their runner to show up. Each crew was happy to jump in and help in any way needed, no matter which runner was in the chair, because ultimately each person there selflessly gave their time to help support and encourage each other in reaching a goal and THAT is what the best part of the weekend was about. 

In the end, it isn’t the DNF and the finishes or finish times that get talked about. It’s the memories of the time spent together, the support and camaraderie, the silly stories and experiences that get shared and live on. 

If you haven’t done something like this yet, I cannot recommend enough that you gather a bunch of running friends (BONUS if they’re Pagoda Pacers), pick a race, and make it happen. Hell, OC100 2024 is a great opportunity to pull this off. There are 4 distances to accommodate different abilities with generous cutoffs for 50K and 100K if you’re thinking of moving up in a distance but are worried about time. The aid stations are great and on par with Blues Cruise. Course is ridiculously well marked. AS are easy to navigate for crew. If you decide you want in on the adventure next year, I’ll see you there!

not everyone has time to write race reports

MATT: Just wanted to end with a shout-out and apology to Curtis. I didn’t give everyone much time to contribute to this article, and he wasn’t able to write down any reflections by the deadline. Maybe he’ll share something for next month?

But in case you’re wondering, Curtis, like Michelle, achieved an impressive distance PR (75+ miles), despite a DNF. He was moving well, far ahead of cut-offs, and then had to drop due to a respiratory issue. But he covered A LOT of ground out there, was in great spirits the next morning, and I’m betting he’ll be back.

Curtis finishing a loop

Eastern States 100: Breathing It All In

by pagodapacers

A race report by Karin Tursack

About a year ago, I was up in the Wilds of PA to pace and crew a friend at Eastern States 100. At this time, I had no desire to ever run a 100-miler. My friend’s race did not go as hoped, and I ended up pacing a stranger (who just so happened to know several friends of mine) for miles 63-93. Talking to him and other runners who joined us, feeling the excitement of the race, and experiencing the beauty of the area–all this planted a seed in me, and I started thinking that maybe this was something I could do. Sitting around the campfire after the race, someone said, “Who’s next?” and my name came up. The seed grew.

TRAINING

Training did not go smoothly. I began experiencing breathing issues after a mild case of COVID in December. My symptoms initially started as wheezing and coughing fits when I exerted myself such as running uphill. It progressed to constant congestion in February after getting bronchitis, sinusitis, and mild pneumonia. Now every run was a struggle just to breathe. Runs were reduced or abandoned altogether. I ran slower and walked most hills. Anytime I stated to feel a little better, I would get sick again and have a setback. Weeks of training were lost to illness. Instead of seeing progress, I saw a steady decline. It was hard to stay motivated, and I almost gave up on many occasions. But I would go home, reset, change my perspective, and change my expectations, which took work. I did eventually get diagnosed with untreated asthma caused by COVID, and I’m currently under the care of a pulmonologist. 

RACE

Eastern States 100 is the final crown in the PA Triple Crown. While my training had not gone well, my other two races (Hyner 50k and Worlds End 100k) had. Though there was definitely a lot more logistics involved in this race, my approach to it was similar to my other races. Go out conservatively, keep it comfortable as long as I could, and manage the breathing.  

I came across Sally McRae’s podcasts while researching and listened more during the weeks leading up to race day. They are packed with so much good stuff on mindset and overcoming challenges. So two of the questions I had going into race day were “Who am I going to be when everything hurts?” and “What story will I write?” I wanted to make sure I would cherish the moments and write an amazing story. 

Getting to race day was, in itself, a celebration. It was great seeing so many people there I knew that were either racing, pacing, crewing, or volunteering. The weather was beautiful, in the low 60s to start. I tucked in mid-pack with a few friends. We started out of Little Pine State Park at 5am down the road about a mile at a nice, easy pace before turning off. It didn’t take long before getting in a conga line going up steps which lead to the single-track trail.  

It took about 10 miles before the line of runners thinned out. It was also in these first 10 miles that I began having left knee pain–something I never had before. One of the positive things going into this race was the fact that I had no injuries. I took note of the pain, but did not let it distract me. (It eventually disappeared later in the race, but I’m not sure if that’s because everything else was hurting by then!) 

By now the sun had come up long ago. I had bypassed the first aid station which was mostly a water stop. At AS 2, I caught two of my friends–Kyle and Chris–and we ran together for awhile. I was familiar with this part of the race as it is also a part of Call of the Wilds 50k. A nice steep climb up, a little stretch along the ridge, and back down. AS 3, “Lower Pines,” was the first with crew access. It was a weird out-and-back. I lost time there trying to maneuver through it and get to my crew. I made sure I refueled well, as it would be 8 miles until the next AS. It was getting warmer and humid. 

There was a pretty good climb from AS 4 to AS 5. The combination of heat, humidity, and hills really impacted my breathing, and I was struggling coming into AS 5, “Happy Dutchman.” It was probably one of my lowest moments. But I was also told the first 50k was the hardest. And my crew surprised me being there to cheer me on. 

I left the aid station up a gravel road used for 4-wheelers, but soon turned left onto a nice runnable, gradual downhill trail for several miles. It was exactly what I needed at that point. I felt reenergized. 

I caught up to Kyle again, and we ran together until Hyner. Along the way, I met someone from VA who had run Western States 100. He said ES was much harder, but he lIked it better. 

I arrived at AS 7, “Hyner,” at 4pm–ahead of schedule. Though my crew was there, they weren’t quite prepared. I had planned to completely change my gear (with the exception of shoes, unless needed). I had some irritation at my ankles that we put mole skin on and later compound. I noticed chafing around my ribs from my pack. I switched from BodyGlide to Desitin which seemed to prevent further chafing. Otherwise everything else was good. Hyner was also where I could pick up my first pacer!!  

I left Hyner, with Mark, feeling pretty refreshed and excited. We knew there was a chance of thunderstorms, which were supposed to last around 30 minutes. Instead, there was a 5+ hour ordeal of heavy downpours, thunder, and lightning. Apparently the front kept reforming over us. The trails had already been muddy and slick from rain earlier in the week. So I had already been slipping and sliding and thus was cautious going into the “V” which is also a part of Hyner 50k. Someone above yelled “Sorry!” as rocks came tumbling down at me only to find out it was David Dunkelburger. We would end up leap frogging each other for the next 40 miles. 

The sun was setting as we popped out of the woods at AS 9, “Big Trail.” Behind the AS, a beautiful rainbow cascaded out of the clouds into the valley below. We all took a moment to appreciate it. Leaving the AS, we were told to head down the road. We were so caught up talking and admiring the purplish pink skies that we missed the sharp right turn onto Black Forest Trail. It was a good quarter mile by the time we realized we hadn’t seen any ribbons and quickly back tracked. But hey–what’s an extra 1/2 mile when you’re already running 103?!? 

Back on course, it’s now night and still pouring. We come across a runner and his pacer in the dark. The pacer’s headlight had died and the runner’s wouldn’t stay on.  They asked if we could be their beacon to follow. For about 3 miles, we lit the way as they followed us watching our heels. It was hard enough for us to see the single track, technical trail in the heavy rain with our headlamps reflecting off the rain drops and fog!  But the 4 of us managed to make it safely to the water crossing “skiing” down a muddy slope to the water’s edge.

The water crossing was supposedly 80 yards wide with a cable across it. Tethers hung from the cable that you could hold onto, but we were told to grab the cable as soon as we could and pull down hard. I could barely reach the tether as I entered the water, let alone the cable. Moss-covered, slippery rocks of various sizes covered the creek’s bed. At its highest, the water was up to my chest, but mostly it was at my waist or below. I made it safely across, though others took a little swim. Here, I would do a complete wardrobe change. I also picked up Andy who would pace me the next 30 miles. 

The rain had stopped as Andy and I headed out. We were passed by 2 runners and their pacers as we ascended a steep and long hill. I would have to stop every so often as we climbed to keep my breathing under control. We came to an opening at the top and the 4 runners were standing there. They told us to take a moment and just look around. The skies had cleared and stars illuminated the night as far and as deep as you could see. This is my WHY.  

This was the section I had paced the previous year, but somehow, I must have blacked out parts of it, as I did not recall this next section. As we descended, the trail was replaced by large rocks, slick and muddy from the rain. I took the section pretty slow, and it seemed to last forever. And I left part of my soul there.  

After that lovely descent, we were awarded with another beauty of a climb and another descent. The trail and course markings were difficult to locate along the next section of the course. Though we never got too far off, we did stop and look around often for trail and/or ribbon.  

We arrived in “Blackwell” before dawn where my crew was waiting. I had planned this AS as my reset: to do all the things I normally would before going out on a Sunday run. Eat breakfast, drink OJ, take vitamins, and brush my teeth. I also changed my shirt and socks.  

Leaving the AS, we were told to just head up the road. And again, we missed the turn to the right as the ribbon with the reflector on it had twisted. So, we didn’t see it, but only added about a 1/4 mile this time. I blew the fog horn to sound the alarm we were coming into Sky Top. Andy got a pick-me-up from caffeine and food and we joined up with Kyle and his pacer Greg. The four us power-hiked the ups and ran the downs for the next 8 miles on service roads and through fern forests. 

There were many small wooden bridges along the course that were slick from the rain, and many had loose boards. So I was careful as I approached one. But it only took one step to wipe my feet out from underneath me, landing me flat on my back, as I also hit my head. I was helped up and was a little dazed. I took a moment to collect my bearings, but then told myself to just keep moving. I lost Kyle and Greg on a long climb as my breathing wouldn’t let me keep up, but I passed a few runners I knew heading into AS 14, “Barrens.” Here I picked up Mark again to the finish.  

For the remaining 10 miles, I power-hiked and “ran” what I could. My processing skills had slowed, and I was having difficulty following the trail, resulting in another nasty fall. I was a little disappointed I didn’t have any hallucinations, as I had been looking forward to that. But we did get to see 3 rattlers in their den (had seen one previously around mile 30 curled up off-trail, rattling away).

My adrenaline kicked in high gear as I made it down that last hill, across the road, and through the cone-lined grass to the finish. I crossed the finish line at 12:33 pm in 31 hours and 33 minutes. I was so excited to finish that I forgot to get my buckle!

My oldest had driven up from Gettysburg that morning to see me finish. She had hoped to catch me at Barrens, but I arrived there too early. It was great having her there experiencing the race and trail running community, though she still thinks we’re all crazy.  

That finish just felt amazing! Many of you helped me get there whether you knew it or not. I see you and you motivate and inspire me. I channel that during my runs. My crew of Mark, Andy, and Kim were pivotal!! I’m so grateful for their support! Especially Mark, as he’s helped me through all my ups and downs and some really scary moments throughout training.  

My two words for this race are “perseverance” and “gratitude.” Throughout the race, especially when it was really tough and I was struggling, I would remind myself to persevere through the challenges, but also to be grateful of where I am at, how far I have come, and that I have the privilege to be out here doing this. This race went better than I expected, and for that I’m very grateful!

Race Report: Ragged 75 Stage Race

by pagodapacers

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?

World’s End 100K: Successfully Run Like There’s No Tomorrow

by pagodapacers

by Cody Harris

For me, World’s End 100k was not a race I really had on my bucket list.  Heck, when I signed up for it, I did not even think of it as my “A” race for this year.  World’s End was simply a means to qualify for the Western States lottery.  However, after training for a few weeks and reviewing the terrain and challenge of the course, World’s End 100k became my “A” race, and boy am I proud that I completed it!

My training started in the bleak days of January, and it was the first time I gave myself 6 months to train for a race. I spent a lot of time running hills and rocky trails at Mount Penn, trying to mimic what I would see at World’s End. It was a huge dedication of time, but it also gave me a sense of confidence as I stepped to the start line, and I felt I had built the ability to not only run the race, but also run it well. 

The race starts in the dark, and for the first few minutes everyone runs along an asphalt road in a sea of bobbing headlamps. My wife was at the start line, and I could hear her yelling for me as we turned away from the start area and headed up the road.

I was told about the slow conga line everyone gets trapped in heading into the first climb. I did my best to find a position where I could keep a steady pace as we all worked our way up the hill. While we were climbing, a runner behind me kicked a rock loose and I could hear it crack as it hit boulder after boulder on its tumble down the mountain side. At this point it hit me that none of my runs on Berks County’s rockiest trails could prepare me for what World’s End had in store. 

After a second rocky climb, we made our way up the Loyalsock Trail and arrived at the first aid station. From here the trail leveled out slightly, and I had to remind myself to take it easy, conserve my energy, and keep my heart rate down. If I couldn’t do that in the flatter section between High Rock and Sones Pond, there would be no way to do it later in the race. I ran through a tight tunnel of trees as I approached Sones Pond. I could hear people, but couldn’t see anyone until I popped out of the woods, and there was a whole crowd waiting, which was slightly disorienting.  Brittni met me at Sones Pond with my first food drop: super salty mashed potatoes and gummy bears. 

Leaving Sones Pond, I made a wrong turn on the Link Trail and was directed back by two fellow runners. I was able to return the favor when they missed a switchback a few miles later. 

From there, we did another big climb to get to Devil’s Garden, and then started our descent into the World’s End aid station where I refueled on more gummy bears and potato chips. The trail headed back up to Canyon Vista, and while the distance between the World’s End aid station and Canyon Vista is short, only 3 miles, it involved one of the steepest climbs of the race. I took extra snacks with me from Canyon Vista because I knew it would be a very long stretch until I saw my crew again. 

The miles ticked by with a creek crossing and some short climbs and descents that were too steep to be called rolling hills, but were still dwarfed by what was to come. After the Coal Mine aid station, I came to an overlook and saw the deep gully that stood between me and High Knob, the next aid station. The view was spectacular, but I had been warned that the next 8 miles were some of the most difficult and hottest of the race, and I wanted to make it to High Knob with plenty of energy left for the second half of the race. 

The High Knob aid station was packed with crews, with everyone cheering on the runners as we came through. It was especially exciting to see fellow Pagoda Pacers and get updates on my friends who were also running that day. The vista at High Knob is breathtaking, but as I looked at the horizon all I could think about was that I was currently standing on top of a mountain and the next few miles would take me all the way to the valley below. I started on the very long descent out of High Knob, which really taxed my quads. The next ascent was the hardest of the entire race. It is not the steepest, but it is unrelenting, long, and punishing. Eventually I came to Dry Run aid station, where I refilled my water and saw my crew, but forgot to pick up other food. I didn’t think this would be an issue; I could pick up some food at the next aid station. However, I had forgotten the next aid station was water only which was both a physical and mental setback at that point in the race. My stomach was also starting to turn against me, and even though I was out of snacks, I was worried about my ability to eat more food once I saw my crew again. 

I finally came into Brunnerdale aid station, where I picked up Steve, who would pace me for the rest of the race. My spirits perked up again; I now had a running buddy, a pack full of salty potatoes and sugar, and I knew there were only 2 more significant climbs left! Steve kept me accountable, helping me to move at a faster pace on the descents and runnable sections than I would have if I were alone. 

We hit the last aid station, Fern Rock, and there were only 6 miles to go and about 90 minutes of day light left. I was supposed to get my headlamp but forgot to pick it up and turned out of the aid station headed towards the trail. I knew I had a few miles of flat, runnable terrain, and one last legendary downhill between me and the finish line.

On the last descent, I went full send. I jokingly told Steve he didn’t have to keep up with me, and promptly threw myself down the hill. Steve did keep up with me though, and we turned into the parking lot. As I came through the parking lot, I saw the banner “Run Like There’s No Tomorrow” ahead of me, and the finish line. My first goal was to finish the race; my second was to finish in the daylight, and I crossed the finish line in 14 hours and 51 minutes, meeting both my goals.

Looking back I could not have asked for a better day.  My race played out the way I wanted it too, and I am confident I achieved my best time for the day.  I cannot say the race was perfect, but I believe that is as close as it can be.  For once I left a race not thinking about what I need to do differently next year.  I just kept thinking about wearing the cool belt buckle I had earned.

Before I finish, I would like to thank my wife for the support she provided during the months of training, and the day of the race.  Brittni’s willingness to drive through the woods to feed me salty mash potatoes and gummy bears made all the difference.  And I also need to thank Steve Vida for taking time out of his weekend to pace me. It was such a mental boost knowing that at mile 50 I had someone joining me for the finish.

Race Report: Pittsburgh Half, 2023

by pagodapacers

by Ray Ingaglio

Training

I lost all of December and the first half of January to leftover knocks/issues from my Nov 20th Philly Marathon, which was my first one ever.

I started the training block weighing 174 pounds, which I was not particularly happy with. I didn’t subscribe to a specific training plan, but I was training for a sub 1:45 finish. I ran the Reading Hospital Road Run last October in 1:59:12. I used a loose plan of only adding about 10% mileage per week: Tuesday speed day; Thursday recovery pace; Friday steady; and Sunday long run. I was basically mimicking the marathon plan I used with some minor adjustments. I scaled up my long runs and maxed out at 12- and 14-milers the last month of the block. I started at 20 miles a week, and peaked at 31 miles for 2 out of the last 3 weeks. I also lifted legs one day a week (Wednesdays).

Before carb loading, I was weighing 156 (18 lbs lost) from a consistent 500 calorie a day deficit. When I say consistent, I mean from Jan 14th to May 4th, I tracked every single calorie that went into my body and from experience, was eating back calories based on calorie expenditure from lifting (200-300 cal per session) and running (100 cal per mile ran). In that span, I had 2 cheat days, zero alcohol, and consistently slept 7-8 hours a night by going to bed at 9:30 to wake up around 5:15 a.m. Personally I function best off of strict routines.

I carb-loaded according to the free calculator by Featherstone Nutrition again. 600g a day for 2 days leading up to the race. I know that there are conflicting thoughts on carb-loading for a half, but knowing I was generally training on minimal fuel, I felt that a full load was going to be a difference-maker for me.

Saturday morning, I woke up with a sore knee, which mentally threw me off big time. I tried to calm myself down, but I was extremely worried this was going to derail a race that I had put so much effort into. I jogged 2-3 times throughout the day for about 100 feet to test it out, but I was not fully confident that I was going to be 100% for the race.

Pre-race

Pittsburgh’s race organization was 10/10. I will recommend this race weekend to ANYBODY who asks me, and I likely will proactively encourage others to do it.

After my race in Philly, which included 30 minutes in a security line, 30 minutes for porta-potty and gear check, all before I even started my warm up, I was shocked by how nicely Pittsburgh’s pre-race panned out.

I stayed at the Wyndham Downtown, which was literally right outside the gear check and post-race festivities at Point State Park. I left my room at 6 a.m. for the 7 a.m. start, hoping that it wasn’t going to be a debacle like Philly. The combo of zero security delays and a smooth gear check meant I was actually sitting around chatting with other runners for 20 minutes before I started to warm up. I felt way less stressed and anxious.

race

Race strategy coming in was to run the first 2-3 miles right at goal pace (8 minutes/mile), which would allow me to find my groove, and then slowly increase my pace to the finish. This did not happen.

Miles 1-3: The start (which was exactly on time at 7 a.m.) was so cool in this race. Fireworks were set off about a minute after the gun start. Then there were 2 or 3 other sets of fireworks set off for the other corrals. I loved that the other corrals were getting the same type of welcome to the course as the first corral. This section was basically all flat or downhill, and I clocked miles right at a 7:30 pace, with a surprisingly comfy feeling and my heartrate under control. I felt like I was just buying myself some extra seconds for the end of the race and the final climb.

Miles 3-9: I got my body locked in at the 7:20-7:30 pace as I found my groove and fueled with a gel at mile 4.5 and mile 9. Crowd support was really good throughout the majority of this race. During this stretch I really enjoyed the “Thick Thighs Save Lives” unofficial aid station. I do not know what they were passing out, but I assumed it wasn’t going to be something that would digest easily. (I’m still curious now that I think about it….)  With the pace I was maintaining throughout this stretch, I reset my eyes on my stretch/dream goal of sub-1:40.

Miles 10 and 11: This is where I felt the race really begin for me. I clocked my 2 slowest miles (7:32 apiece) in this stretch. My core was not feeling great, and my legs were feeling pretty tired. Mentally I knew it was time to buckle down, but I also knew to try to conserve a little bit of physical and mental energy for Mile 12. Someone whom I consistently follow and use as a source of inspiration is David Goggins. One of the big things he talks about is the 40% rule. Basically, when your mind wants to quit, your body is only at 40% spent. Your body is capable of so much if you don’t let your mind overpower it.

Mile 12-Finish: “Birmingham. Birmingham. Birmingham.” These are the words I said to myself over and over and over throughout the training block. Mile 12 has the largest climb of the entire race by far. You climb up the Birmingham Bridge, into a tiny little downhill, only to climb another .25 miles to the mostly downhill finish. It’s roughly 100 feet of gain over .9 miles. I heard about this hill after I signed up. Other race reports I read mentioned this dreaded, long climb and the timing in the race in which it hits. During training I would end all my long runs with a similar hill where I run. During my leg days, I would do a finisher AMRAP set of squats focused on this hill.

I was not going to let this hill hurt me. It was my main enemy. It did not win.

I found a surge of calm energy as I was climbing. I passed a lot of people on this climb. The competitive side of me was loving this, and I used this to hit a 7:36 mile. (I don’t consider this my slowest mile because of the Gradient Adjusted Pace). I took a few deep breaths at the summit and buckled down for a hard charge to the finish. Mile 13 was my fastest mile of the race at 6:53. The stomach cramp I had earlier resurfaced, but not until after the climb was done (luckily). I was digging deep and estimated I had only about 8 minutes left to the finish line. I knew I was coming in sub-1:40, and I think mentally I was boosted by that as well. I crossed the finish line at 1:37:49.

Post-Race

After the race, I felt a combined and overwhelming rush of elation, satisfaction, happiness, and relief. I took probably 5 minutes to just soak it all in, and it was one of the best moments of my entire life (after getting married and seeing my daughter for the first time). I was fighting back happy tears and a few (ok fine, more than a few) slipped out.

I put everything I had into this training block and this race–from the training, to the diet, to the focus on sleep and recovery, to the race-day effort. After my first marathon, I knew I had so much to give, and I committed to chase that and see just how much I could give. I am very hard on myself and generally a very intense person (if you didn’t already pick up on that). For me personally, this race really feels like a turning point in my running career. The “what if” and “so much more to give” feels even more open-ended now. I am driven more than anything by breaking through my own “perceived potential.” 10 months ago, I did a 6-mile run with max effort in just over an hour. If you had asked me then if it was possible for me to EVER run a half marathon at a 7:30 pace, I would’ve laughed. 

“It Wasn’t THAT Bad”: Hyner 25k Race Report

by pagodapacers

by Julia Hager

the author (center) with Michelle Henry and Curtis Musser

Picture it…May 2022. It’s springtime, and we are out running and enjoying the beautiful weather, rejoicing in the sunshine and longer days. Honeysuckle fills the air. Birds singing. Flowers blooming. Everything is green and alive again. Someone posts in one of the running groups that Hyner View Trail Challenge registration just opened. Who’s going to sign up before it sells out? 

Well my knee has been giving me some trouble, but the shot is working well, and I have almost a whole year to get it back to 100%, so….why not? I mean, before it sells out, right? And everyone else is doing it, so it should be fun!  SOLD! 

Registered for the 50K. I was so impressed that I had 2 qualifying 50Ks. (What? Am I actually a legit ultra runner? When did this happen?) Several times in the registration process it reminds you that there are NO transfers, NO refunds, NO waivers. It’s straight up Yoda Jedi master “Do or do not. There is no try”. Ok, I get it..

~clicks submit~ 

Woohoo! I’m in for the 50K! 

Then, somewhere in the back of my head, I have this vague recollection of this being a tough race. Kinda remember Jason Karpinski running this one and mentioning it’s a lot of climbing. THEN I actually looked into what I just signed up for. Oh sh*t. Ok it’s cool. I have plenty of time to train. Lots of friends to run hills and long runs with. I figured I could do Blues Cruise again, and just keep that momentum going through the winter, right? Right!

Well, sort of. I trained for Blues Cruise, but did it half-heartedly, because I missed a goal I had set for myself the previous year and just felt defeated (and that is a story for another time). As Blues Cruise neared, my knee was again giving me trouble. Got another shot a few weeks before the race and started PT 2 days before. Ran the race in the cold, rain, and mud; continued PT for 6 weeks. Knee seemed ok. I kept doing the exercises at home and even started some hip mobility/strengthening exercises. 

Now the weather is changing, and I need motivation to keep running in the cold (which I hate), so I sign up for the Naked Nick and Naked Bavarian races, plus the Shiver series, and I plan to do all kinds of great-sounding things like “leg destroyers,” Blue Marsh trails, elliptical workouts on colder days, weekly hill repeats on Walnut street, etc. 

Barely did any of this because a) baby it’s cold outside, and b) my knee hurts every time I run, especially on road. I have time, so I’ll just take a break for a week or two and rest and regroup. 

Let me tell you, breaks are comfy in the winter. They also add a random 10ish pounds pretty quick in my age group. Great. Now my clothes don’t fit right. Motivation is fading fast, and I have a 25k race coming up.

Naked Nick,  you’re up! Ok, tape the knee, and get to the start line. Take it easy, and try for under 4 hours. Done! Knee held up. Hurt at the start, but it seemed to get better as the race went on. Maybe I just need to get off my butt?

Feeling motivated again. Kind of. Sort of. Got out a few times, but definitely not feeling it. Maybe I’m burned out? Maybe it’s just a dark, gray winter? Maybe if my knee didn’t hurt every morning?  I spent January and February barely getting out there, then realized I only had 12 weeks to Hyner.

Ok. I needed a plan, so I found a 12-week 50k training plan. I’m normally quite disciplined when I have a plan to follow, but not this time. Knee did not feel too grand at Ugly Mudder. And I have a 20-mile race coming up.

~Naked Bavarian has entered the chat~

Ok. I was going to stay home and skip this one. Last minute, I decided to go and figured, if I have to stop, I”ll just stop. I’m gonna go get this looked at after this race. Well, once again, to my surprise, my knee felt better as the race went on. And even felt completely fine the days to follow.

I’m so confused. A friend gave me an indoor bike trainer a few weeks ago, and I rode it here and there, so maybe that helped? I’m still gonna go get this looked at.

The pain did return a few days later. 6 weeks out from Hyner, and I’m thinking I’m gonna have to drop to the 25k. Maybe. Let’s see what the doc says.

Annnnnnd maybe not. Now my ortho is not in my new insurance’s network. Nearest in-network is in Plymouth Meeting. Seriously? I’m really feeling like the universe is telling me not to run this race. But like my mother always said: I don’t listen. 

Rode my bike a few times and tried to get out and get some miles in here and there, but I would not say I was gaining any sort of momentum to really train. And at this point, I had kind of given up completely. 25k is ok. I’m still gonna get the best/worst parts of the trail, and I have plenty of time to finish. I also have Michelle to hike along with, so it’s gonna be a good day.

So here we are on a beautiful 80° Friday in late April heading to North Central PA. I’m nowhere near ready. I’m gonna make the best of it and have fun. At packet pick up, I have to officially drop down from the 50k to the 25k, but they give you all your 50k things first, and I gotta tell ya, that 50k bib looked a lot cooler than the one I traded it in for. I also have a 50k shirt that I won’t wear because I didn’t do that distance. The FOMO is setting in. 

The energy here is amazing. I’m disappointed, but starting to get excited. You can’t help it. It’s in the air. They just said there’s free New Trail beer and pizza, and I get a glimpse of the View from the landing strip. Seems so far away. Hope I sleep well tonight. Michelle and I make a pact: finish, don’t die, don’t cry. 

And it’s here. Race day. 67° overcast with the sun peeking out. The breeze makes it a little chilly. Threat of severe storms later in the day. Maybe we’ll be done before they hit? Ha-ha. Who am I kidding? Grabbed some photos with some of the other runners from our area. Hit the potty.

It’s now 8 a.m., and the 50k starts after announcements and a lovely rendition of the national anthem. We watch them go out and over the bridge and then turn to our final prep. Hydration pack, energy chews, gum, headphones, phone, debate the jacket, some more photos, pre-race jitters, pet the dogs, and at 9 a.m. — we’re off!

Running over the bridge, we can see the view and some very tiny 50k runners running up the trail. As I turn off to enter the trail, I already get a “zinger” in my knee. Just gotta walk it off a little bit. Good thing I can’t run here anyway. It’s so congested that we are just walking along the trail single file going up, up, up.  After a while, we sort of level out and can run a little bit, and I remember thinking, “I thought we were going straight up. This isn’t so bad.” Then the trail turns, and we start to go down. Now I’m really confused.  Where’s the view? 

So we continue on our descent, and then the trail turns again, and now we start to head back up and it’s getting rockier and a bit more technical as we go. Then we start to hear cheering and the ringing of the bell. Now I originally thought the ringing of the bell was to celebrate reaching the View. I later found out that in the 2021 race, Carl Undercofler, a member of the Pa Trail Dawgs, went into cardiac arrest just before the stone wall and died. Last year they installed a bell at the site to keep his memory alive. I rang the bell as I went up, and I was so excited I had made it up the longest climb.

Jason Karpinski and Penelope (his dog) were there taking pictures of Michelle and me as we reached the top. I honestly didn’t think it was that bad. I ran up to get a picture from the top, then went  back down around the wall to follow the trail to the first aid station. This is fun.

I’m a little hungry. I was surprised my only options were water, gatorade, gels, or bananas. No bacon? No gummy bears? No pb&j?  Clearly I was spoiled by Blues Cruise aid stations. Oh well. Potty break, lose the jacket, one more photo and off I go.

Feeling pretty energized at this point; the downhill trail was crowded, but runnable, so I took advantage. Knee is not getting better, but not worse either. The trails up here are much rockier than I’m used to, so as I descend I have to slow up to keep my footing. I was running along at one point and my foot caught on a root or branch or something and jerked my leg almost out from under me and ripped my sneaker. Guess which leg it was?  Sheesh! Walked it off for a little bit then got back to it. 

Eventually, I reached the creek, and the trail crossed it a few times, and I somehow managed to keep my feet dry. The terrain was getting very rocky at this point. This was harder for me than the climbs. I had lost Michelle at the aid station, but I had caught up to her by this point. She finally grabbed a stick to use as a pole. It was a little big and after trying a few others, she settled on one and offered the bigger one to me. I hesitated, but then took it just to see how it went. I’m not a fan of carrying something in my hand. It actually came in handy, and I eventually found a second one to use as well.   

It felt like we were hiking along forever, and I mentioned that I was getting  hungry. Seemed like we should have hit an aid station by now. I have chews with me, but I didn’t want to waste them if the next aid station was close. I’d rather have food and was hoping this one had more than bananas. 

Finally we start seeing flags and begin to hear music, and we are suddenly greeted by Bigfoot herself!! I was so happy to see ring bologna and cheese and chips and pickles and candy and surprised at how much energy I’m using on this course. Loaded up on snacks, refilled my gatorade, and grabbed my newly acquired walking sticks. And we are off.

Back into the wilderness. A light drizzle starts but doesn’t last long. Back down the mountain and back up again. There are so many rocks on these trails up here. I was terribly happy to have kept the sticks. I somehow got way ahead of Michelle and slowed till I could see her again. We were both getting tired and heavy feet can get tangled up in this terrain. She was fine. I gave her a Rick Flair “WOOO” to help keep her motivated. This startled some other runners who were on the outside of our inside joke. Now we are all motivated! 

Little further up and we are at a picturesque clearing cleverly placed to give a moment of ooos  and ahhhs before we get up around the corner to […insert dramatic music…] SOB Hill. This was steep and rocky, but short, and honestly, not nearly as horrible as I was expecting. Again, I was happy to have the sticks. At the top there’s another aid station and I was so happy to finally eat a pb&j!!

It had started to rain pretty good by now and the wind was picking up. It was getting noticeably cooler, and I wasn’t sure if I should put the jacket back on again or not. There’s only 5 miles to go, and I don’t really want wet sleeves on me to feel even colder. I’m gonna power through. The view from up here was beautiful even in the rain.

We are in awe of the house across the way on the other mountain. They inform us that it is a truck we see and that is where we are headed. What? WE have to go down and up the other side?  Well let’s get moving. We are treated to a nice long flat trail that follows along the crest and wraps around to the other side. About a half mile or so into it I’m too cold and have to stop and put on my jacket.  We get to the other side, pass the truck, and are now heading back into the woods.

Spring Trail. There were no springs. It wasn’t springy at all. Back to rocky terrain all the way down to the creek. I gotta tell you, I love running near water. There’s a calming that comes from the soothing sounds of a babbling brook. I was cold and tired, but I had to admit…it is so darn pretty out here!

We followed along the creek, and I’m thinking, “The finish gotta be nearby now.” Wait. Why are we going back up? Yay, sticks! We got up to Huff Run. It’s been raining for a while now, and we just have this downhill trek to go. Almost done! HA! We are now faced with a fantastically slick single track deathtrap. To our left we have a steep mountain side. On our right we have a nice steep drop off. In front of us lies a slick, mud-covered rocky downhill trail with little room for error. Behind us we can hear the quick pace of seasoned trail runners (i.e. they’re actually running). Several times I frantically looked for a safe place to move over so they could pass. 

Down we go and suddenly we think we hear music and we come upon a house so there must be a road nearby. Or it’s a mirage. Hard to tell at this point. Finally, after one last steep muddy descent, we get to the road. We retired our sticks and now we know we are almost done.

This was a tough one. As we walked along, I’m thinking I’m ok now with dropping down to 25k. I would not have finished the 50k. Michelle had stated several times that this will never be more than a spectator course for her. We come down around the corner and back over the bridge and break out in an easy paced jog to the finish–7 hours and 40 minutes after we started.

Brand new hat! Beer me! I grab food and find a table to eat and start to reflect on what the heck I just did that day. I am convinced the foliage grew while we were gone. This was a tough one, but I wonder how I would have done if my knee were up to par, and I was actually trained? I mean it was tough, but it wasn’t THAT bad. And I really wanted to do the 50k. And the weather’s getting nice. 

It’s springtime and we are out running and enjoying the beautiful weather and rejoicing in the sunshine and longer days. Honeysuckle fills the air. Birds singing. Flowers blooming. Everything is green and alive again. It’s almost May. And Hyner View registration will soon open up. 

Want to read more Race Reports by Pacers? Go to https://pagodapacers.com/Races-Results/Results/Race-Reports.aspx

Race Report: HAT 50k

by pagodapacers

by Andy Styer

Hat 50k is a race that has been on my mind since I DNF’d it back in 2016 or 2017 ( I can’t exactly remember!) due to a rolled ankle. This year, it didn’t sell out, so I had the luxury of signing up a week before the race knowing I was well trained for a 50k on the fly. I had just completed the Naked Bavarian 40-miler a few weeks prior and was hoping to have a nice, clean race. 

Well, as my luck (and the weather) would have it – no, it would be muddy like most of my races have been.

The race started of well enough. All the runners line up in a field and then launch into a 3-mile baby loop, which allows us to separate into packs before we head into the larger loop with single-track trails. I kind of held back, knowing I usually go out too fast, but for once, I had a plan. My goal was a 5:45 – 6 hour finish, which I felt was respectable for my ability as a runner, with the amount of vertical gain (4200′-5000′ depending on whose watch you believe). I didn’t use a drop bag or plan on changing shoes , socks, shirt, or anything. I didn’t use a pack, just a handheld water bottle. 

At about 10 miles into the race, the rain came, and we had a steady downpour for about an hour. I knew this would be trouble for the course conditions, and it turned the nice, flowing course into a peanut-buttery, muddy mess, with the downhills being treacherous and the uphills tough to get a grip on. As I came into the end of the first loop, I passed a TON of people who stopped at the pavilion to change shoes and socks. It was a calculated risk on my part not to change, but I tend to use aid stations as a “gas-n-go” type of pit stop, topping off fluids and grabbing some food. 

The second loop was fun for me, as I was passing people who don’t like mud the way I do! The trail conditions were worse than ever, and a few people I spoke with who did this race numerous times said this was the worst they had ever seen the course. I kept moving steadily while passing people the entire loop. It was a good feeling knowing I would avenge an old DNF and get some really nice swag in the process! A handheld Orange Mud water bottle, a long sleeve tee, a winter beanie / skull cap, and of course, a really nice running HAT. I highly recommend this race since it’s a well established race with some of the best volunteers you’ll find out there!

Below are my stats:

46th out of 248 finishers

4th out of 45 in the M50-59 

Baby loop time: 27:29 ( 77th place)

1st large loop time: 2:33:36 (75th place)

2nd large loop time: 2:46:34 

Final time: 5:47:39, 46th place, passing 29 people on the final loop!

Making a List

by pagodapacers

by Jason Karpinski

The year begins to wind to an end; the sometimes dreaded, but always highly anticipated, task of reviewing your year and planning the next begins to take hold. As runners, this means looking back at a year of triumph, tribulation, and many miles shared with countless friends. This time also means planning out the upcoming year of races and personal challenges. I will look back on this year as by far my most challenging year of running. Fortunately, it was also a year full of successes.

Back in 2021, I attempted, and DNF’ed, World’s End 100k. It was my first attempt at that distance, and as some may remember, it was a day that would challenge even the hardiest of runners. Somehow, with very minimal training, I managed to complete 58 miles before being pulled for time. But as many failures do, this propelled me to push my limits by attempting “The Blacklist”. For those of you who are unfamiliar, as I was in 2021, the Blacklist is a series of what are claimed to be the toughest trail races in Pennsylvania: Hyner 50k, World’s End 100k, Eastern States 100, and the Black Forest 100k. Each of these races presents its own challenges, and each requires a fair amount of training and preparation. I have shared my experience at a couple of these races in the newsletter earlier in the year; however, I failed to recap the race which finished off this incredible ride of a year: The Black Forest 100k.

Midnight, October 2nd: 70-ish anxious runners toe the line just mere feet outside a pavilion at Hyner Run State Park, surrounded by a surprising amount of cheering family and friends. For about a dozen of these individuals, it marks the final start to a year-long mission. (Spoiler alert: only 9 complete this grueling task.) What lies ahead of all these individuals is 7 hours of non-stop rain brought by the remnants of Hurricane Ian, 64 miles of constantly undulating hills, minimal aid stations (5 fully equipped; 3 water-only), and a couple dozen swiftly moving water crossings. In case you missed it, this race starts at midnight. This reason alone starts to show why the race slogan is “Diabolically Epic”. The other part that makes this race a bit different is that the racers are not allowed any outside crew or spectators from the moment the race begins until they cross the finish line. You truly do have to rely on your drop bags or of the ever-helpful strangers that run the aid stations.

The first 15 miles seems to breeze by as we get accustomed to the soaking conditions, muddy terrain, and pace of those around us. Although in my experience there were not many fellow runners to be seen after about 5 miles. As with most ultra trail races, you get to spend minutes and often hours at a time alone in the woods with only your sloshing water, your crinkling gel wrappers, and your own thoughts (sometimes the best and oftentimes the worst company).

As I approach the next aid station, I begin to feel tired. Throughout the year I have learned to know this tired. It is a tired not due to lack of sleep or accumulation of mileage, but rather the dreaded blood sugar low. I arrive at the aid station and proceed to have a feast: 3 pierogi, half a grilled cheese, an Uncrustable, a cup of chicken noodle soup, Coke, Mountain Dew, and water. I restock my pack with gels, and I am off to traverse the next 13 miles to the next aid station. 

After my gluttonous undertaking at mile 18, I begin to make the next climb, which is about a mile and a half of switchbacks, and about 500 feet of elevation gain. It takes about 3 miles until the food begins to take hold, and I swing from the extreme low to an extreme high which leads me not feeling tired, but rather half unknowingly sleepwalking for 2 miles. I recognize it is happening as I catch myself opening my eyes a couple dozen times just as I am about to take an ill-fated step into a rut in the trail or a small boulder. After this passes, my legs and body begin to click again until about mile 24-26, when I do not manage to avoid said small boulders. I kick three rocks all with my left foot which leaves my 2nd-4th toe feeling as though the nails have been lost, only being held in by the Injinji toe socks. Anyhow, this is trail racing after all, and the show must go on.

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Fast-forward to 5 miles left in the race. I have all but decided I am going to “walk this one in,” knowing that I was well ahead of the 17-hour time limit. While powering up a hill of switchbacks familiar to those who have run Hyner, I look down to see two brightly colored shirts making their way up. In my head I was tired of the race and tired of seeing people pass me and I told myself that no one will pass me from there to the finish line. I took off running and somehow managed to run the fastest 5 miles of the entire race. There were only two miles to go, as I started to make my way down the final hill. It was a technical descent with plenty of roots and rocks; however, my legs, mind, and body told me to let it all go for broke and simply let go. I passed the final runner I would see on course. 

At the start of the race, I had placed an Apple Airtag in my pack in hopes that Michelle and my mom could track my whereabouts throughout the race. It was at this moment shortly after seeing this final runner that I heard the ping of the Airtag for the first time. This sound broke me out of my extreme focus and pace and reminded me of why I do these adventures. It is a reason many of us do these races: to prove to ourselves and those around us that the limits we set are only limited by our minds, because our bodies have so much more to give than we know. I proceeded to spend the next half mile with tears of joy and gratitude streaming down my face. These tears were replaced with childish joy, yells, and laughter as I made my way out of the woods, across the gravel path, and finally rounding off into the air across the finish line. My legs immediately hurt, my body tightened up, my feet screamed, but my mind was calm, quiet, and fulfilled. 

This year was one I will never forget, and one that I owe so much to those around me. From friends joining in on many training miles, veterans giving me advice about the races and strategies, my family for telling me I am crazy while also telling me they are confident I can do it. And finally, to Michelle, for sacrificing so much of her time which allowed me to leave the house, oftentimes well after my bedtime, to get a run in. All these folks have heard my thanks but deserve to hear them repeatedly. The year was memorable, but the best is yet to come; 103 miles only opened the door to possibilities, and I know I have so much more to give!

Ray Is a Marathoner (and a Dad)!

by pagodapacers
a race report by ray ingaglio

Ray Ingaglio ran the Philadelphia Marathon (26.2 miles) on November 20th, 2022 in 4:02:04, just a couple months after welcoming his first child into the world!

Click HERE to follow Ray on Strava, and HERE to see his splits for the race.

Training

December 16th, 2021: I recommitted myself to health and fitness. In the past 7 years since graduating college, I have been up and down with my weight and my overall fitness. I was 188 pounds, and I committed to losing 25. At the time, I knew that my body couldn’t handle running without injury without losing weight. I got down to 163 by mid-June. At the same time, I started running 2-3 times a week for 6-9 miles total. On July 4th weekend, down in Wildwood, NJ, I ran 6 miles in just over an hour–a max effort at the time and my longest run since 2009. My head started to contemplate checking a marathon off my bucket list. My wife was pregnant with our first child, and I said to myself, “Do it now, or you will find a million BS excuses not to.” I sat down with my wife and explained the time commitment this endeavor would take, especially Sunday mornings which were my long, slow run days. She agreed and training began immediately.

I looked through different training plans and settled on the 16-week Runner’s World sub-4:30 plan. I chose this plan because it called for 4 running days / week. I refused to give up weightlifting, which I enjoyed way more than running at the time (now it is pretty even between running and lifting). Training went pretty smoothly overall. I worked up to peak training weeks of 30-36 miles which included a final long run of 20 miles in Philadelphia on the latter half of the course. Training was overall enjoyable because after the first few weeks, each week’s long run was a new distance PR for me. Before the training block, my longest run ever was 7 miles. I did miss about 2.5 weeks of training during the block. Mid-September my daughter was born, and I lost about 3 runs during that time. Mid-October I got COVID, which knocked me out for two weeks. This was a turning point for me mentally in the block.

I was pretty confident from the start that with proper training, sub-4:30 was doable. I had the Reading Hospital Half Marathon on October 16th. After not running for two weeks, I did a Peloton class that Friday. I was absolutely torched lung-wise. I said to myself, “No way I can do the half marathon.” On Saturday, I woke up, lifted as usual, and that night decided to go run a 5k to see if maybeeeee I could do the half marathon, as I was seeing people post about it and the FOMO was getting heavy. I ended up running a recent 5k near PR albeit with an elevated heart rate. Signups were open until midnight so I signed up. I ran a 1:59:17, which was encouraging, since sub-2 hours was a goal for the block to hit 4:30 in the full. This was a turning point because mentally I started to believe that 4:30 wasn’t a good enough goal for me. I like a goal that is seemingly out of reach, a goal that is something to work towards. I decided that sub 4:15 was my new goal with a dream/stretch goal of sub 4 hours.

I tapered pretty drastically… by accident. I thought it was a good idea to do a low-weight, high-rep leg day the first taper week. After not lifting legs for 10 weeks due to running volume, I didn’t run that entire week due to severe DOMS. 0/10 would not recommend.

I carb-loaded according to the free calculator by Featherstone Nutrition. 600g a day for 3 days leading up to the race (I only did it for 2). I actually gained back about 7 pounds throughout the training block, as I was super-focused on recovering properly and staying injury free. I’m 5’ 6”, and my weight was 171 pounds on race day.

pre-race

Pre-Race was definitely different than I imagined. I figured I was being very conservative and would be sitting around waiting for the race to start–this was not the case. I got in line for security at 6:15. I didn’t get through the fence until 6:45. After a porta-potty stop and gear check, it was already 7:10. (The race was officially supposed to start at 7 a.m.). I realized I didn’t have to stress at all because all corrals started very late. My designated corral started 20 minutes late. I found the warming tent, did my normal warmup, took my first gel, and started the race at 7:32.

THe Race

My race strategy overall was to run my dream-goal pace (9:08) pretty consistently. I did not want to go out too fast nor too slow. I ran my half marathon the same way. I picked my pace and did what I could to hold onto it to hit my desired time

Miles 1-8: It was pretty cold the whole race, but I honestly didn’t notice too much. Other than splashing water on my hand in water stations, I was pretty comfy. I had compression shorts, running shorts, long-sleeve dry fit, regular running hat, and a pair of gloves. Gloves were shed after the first water station. As someone who is 95% a solo runner, I was not expecting to feel so boosted mentally by the crowd atmosphere. It made most of the miles fly by, and I was so calm, happy, and grateful to be there running the race without any major injuries.

I saw some really good signs throughout the race. My favorite one was early on in the city: “Girlfriend: Hey, do you want to run the Philly Marathon with me? Boyfriend: *just literally a picture of Ben Simmons*” 

Miles 9-18: Running the course 2 weeks before felt really helpful here. I knew the elevation changes and tracking to mile 18; I was slightly ahead of goal pace. At this point, I only had one mile that was above 9:10, and it was the mile (9:28) with the Fairmount Park hill. (Worst on the course, but not terrible really). Up until this point, I was listening to the Trilogy Mixtapes by the Weeknd. This was a good choice as it’s slower pace R&B and hip hop.

Mile 19-24: At mile 19, a mini panic set in. I use gels every 3 miles. I packed enough to have 2 extra with the assumption that I was getting a gel at 3 different spots per the race information. At Mile 18, I had used my last gel as I must’ve lost a few on the way. I panic called my brother and had him lookup what mile markers gels were supposed to be given out. I missed them entirely at mile 12. (Maybe because of my late start?) I asked my brother, who was meeting me at mile 22, to find a running shop in Manayunk with gels or as a last resort something carb heavy. About 5 minutes later, I hit the first gel stop. I was able to grab a total of 2 which eased my mind.

I feel like I never really hit the wall. Don’t get me wrong, the race got much harder at this point. I saved a 90 minute David Goggins Youtube video that I frequently listen to for the end of the race. That helped me push through as my legs were feeling very tired. My brother ended up finding a banana and other food, but at the last gel stop, I grabbed three so I was fully stocked for the finish. My splits for this section were between 9:12 and 9:31. I realized around these miles that I was about .2-.3 miles off on my watch compared to the course. I was committed to finishing as strong as possible

Mile 25-Finish: With about 2 miles to go, I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I felt that I could finish strong. My mantra throughout the end of the race, when it started to get tough, was stolen from David Goggins. “What if”… “What if I push through here”… “What if I can hit sub 4 after running a 1:59:17 half”…

Since I hadn’t run the perfect course, I knew that an official sub 4 was out of the question. My brain was too tired to do the math on where I stood pace-wise on my watch distance. I ran 9:06, and for the last half mile I had a strong “sprint” at 8:00 pace. On my watch, I had hit 26.2 just under 4 hours, although my official race time was 4:02:04.

post-race

Over. The. Fucking. Moon. Extremely. Satisfied.

Crushed my initial goal I set out for and trained for. Hit my dream goal (on my watch). Couldn’t have been happier with my effort and result. 

I couldn’t really do a cooldown; I think the fast finish did more damage to my legs than the entire race beforehand. I walked (hobbled) for about 30 minutes to the car which was the first time all day I experienced a side stitch ironically. I had a buddy locally who let me use his shower and then enjoyed a nice lunch at Maggiano’s in KOP.

My legs are still not 100% recovered. On Sunday and Monday, I was having pain and tightness all over including not being able to bend my left leg fully. After those 2 days, all of my joint/ligament/tendon issues went away, but still, my quads aren’t back to normal. I ran/walked 2 miles yesterday, and I was still recovering. Luckily muscle damage recovers much quicker than other tissue. I attribute this to my weightlifting background. I run heavy, but my muscles are able to absorb impacts putting less stress elsewhere.

As someone who always strives when working towards a goal, I was already thinking about what my next goal was going to be. I don’t have anything scheduled, but it’s going to be another marathon with a sub-3:30 goal. I feel as if I have so much more to give and more to grow as a runner. Personally, I enjoy the length of the marathon as a metaphor for life. The cheesy saying “It’s a marathon, not a sprint” is so true in my eyes. 

Hard work consistently over time breeds results, not only in running, but in life in general!

Redemption, Hallucination, and a Moment of Bliss

by pagodapacers

an oil creek adventure

by Steve Vida

Last year, I DNF’d the Oil Creek 100-Miler after 75 miles.  It was my first attempt at this distance.

I returned in 2022 with a little more experience and confidence.  Everything proceeded as planned, and I (mostly) crushed it with the indispensable help of my pacers and crew.  I was 23rd out of 46 finishers and 84 starters.  I feel redeemed and content.

The Oil Creek 100 Trail Runs take place in Titusville, PA.  This is a well-organized event with an established reputation for outstanding aid stations and abundant course markings.  It’s a 5-hour drive from Reading, but worth the trip.  The start/finish is at the Titusville Middle School, but the course is a 50k loop in Oil Creek State Park.  The 100-mile race repeats this loop 3 times, with an extra 7-mile “going home” loop tacked on the end.

There are also 50k and 100k races with staggered starts on the same day.  My sister (club president) Michelle Henry and my daughter Olivia finished the 50k this year.  It’s a popular event with a generous cut-off time, and the signups fill quickly.  All 3 of us had great weather with temperatures mostly in the 40s and 50s.

Everything about my 2022 race went smoothly.  I wasn’t sure how to pace the early parts of a 100-miler.  So I looked back at times from 2016, averaged the splits from the bottom 2/3 of finishers and used those as my targets.  I managed to run the first loop 20 minutes ahead of target.  The second loop was 7 more minutes ahead of target.  But the biggest boost came when I picked up my pacers for the third lap, and we came through 40 minutes faster than target.

Sometimes, all you need from a pacer is company.  But Matt Brophy and Jason Karpinski were bringing the deluxe pacer package to Oil Creek: they understood me, and I trusted them.  This team (along with my wife Tracy as my crew captain) would be able to guide me through anything.

Jason joined me at the start of the third loop, not too long after dark.  I was using an hourly alarm on my watch as an eating reminder, but now it became a countdown til sunrise.  Every hour I would announce “10 hours til sunrise” and then eat a gel.  Halfway through the loop we reached the aid station where I dropped last year, and Matt started pacing.  Every step now was farther than I have ever run, and I wasn’t sure what to expect.  But I was able to keep up some hiking/running mixture that surprised me.  I kept up the sunrise countdown with Matt, but when we came down off the mountain at the end of loop 3, it was still dark, and I was 67 minutes ahead of plan.

This was probably my emotional highpoint during the race itself.  In my mind, I was moving like an unstoppable machine.  I had 9 miles to go and almost 5 of them would be flat.  I had so much time left that the cutoffs no longer mattered – I was definitely going to finish.  But I was also about 5 miles away from my lowest point of the race.  And I was starting to see things.

There’s about a mile of paved bike path between the trail and the school.  As we headed back to the school to complete the third loop, I spotted a person well ahead walking their dog alongside the path.  But as we got closer, there was no dog and there was no person … and I think, weren’t they right here where this sign is now?  This kind of episode repeated itself for the remainder of the race.  I’m uncommonly tolerant of lack of sleep, but at this point I had run through 2 sunrises during the race, and it felt like my brain was stretched too thin.

These few flat miles to the school and back gave me a break with a chance to fast-walk for a while.  But after 45 minutes, when I needed to start uphill again, there was a new and significant soreness in my right quad.  It wasn’t excruciating, but still the discomfort quickly sapped everything I had left.  Downhills felt even worse.  So at mile 96 I reached my lowpoint, staring at a sign that identified the next section as the “Hill of Truth”.  It was a slow and quiet battle.

Jason and Michelle met us about half a mile from the finish, and Michelle captured a photo that is my favorite from the weekend.  It’s Matt, me, and Jason walking together, but we’re spread out and clearly not speaking.  I think we look like 3 tired guys just leaving work after third shift.  And I think we give off an attitude like this is all something routine.

As we got closer to the school, Matt reminded me that I was expected to run it in.  I wasn’t convinced it was possible, but he also assured me that once I turned the corner, the energy and ability would be there, and he was right.  I lumbered down the home stretch with some mixture of disbelief and triumph.  I crossed the finish line, buried my face in my hands and choked back a quick couple sobs.  I imagined this finish so many times, but I never understood how the whole experience would gradually grind me away, and for a few blissful moments, all I would have – all I would be – is this belt buckle.