Grindin’ at Peak 500
How I ran 500 miles in the mountains of Vermont.
Nicole backed the car away from the Pony Barn in Pittsfield on Wednesday, May 21, 2014.
I walked up the ramp and into what would be my new digs for the next week and a half- a small room with one light, some tables, and cots. On the wall closest to the door was the board that our entire lives would revolve around during our journey.
Staring at it while I sat on my bunk, the actual length of the race hit me.
I knew from past experience in long races that the sheer amount of emotional and physical output that the board represented was unintelligible, and tried to imagine how I might feel at 20. 120. 350? 410? There were too many question marks.
Here with no crew and $100 worth of junk food, I would only have to take this race in one form mentally: the present.
Sitting here, 24 hours before the start, which was to be at 4pm on May 22, I made a promise to myself to live in the now. Right now. Not 2014. Not 2013. Certainly not 2012. The Deca Iron meant absolutely nothing here. This wasn't a race where you rest on your laurels and skate by. I was nervous.
Jess walked in. I was surprised to hear that she'd driven all the way from Iowa, and wondered how in the hell she might have trained for this mountain run, being from a land where flat is flatter than flat. She was a totally awesome individual and I had a great time chatting with her for a short while. She would inevitably surprise us all with her planning and raw ability, trucking through 200 miles FAST before succumbing to a bad bout of cellulitis in her ankle.
Nick, Steve, and Jeff walked in, and I immediately recognized my fellow 500er from images from the Peak website. He seemed preoccupied and not very conversational, but then again, probably so did I. It was the eve of what was to be an incredibly stressful 9 or 10 day stretch for us.
Sleep that night was good, and the aura around the barn on race day was very mellow.
I was drinking coffee and relaxing, chatting it up with Margaret about the Born To Run Fest, when Andy and Peter came in to post a nice note for us.
photo: Steve Antczak
Super. We all laughed it off, and by the time noon hit, everyone was slipping into race mode:
laying shoes and socks out, getting food prepped, medical supplies in order, etc.
Nick and his amazing crew were filling gel bottles, calculating ounces, and really analyzing what was to happen over the first stretch of running. His food, clothing, and everything around his bunk was flawless and organized perfectly.
My shit was everywhere.
From the start, it was quite obvious we were two very different people with two different strategies. He was cold and calculated. I had no damned clue what I was doing. He was here last year, so I secretly wondered if I was screwing up from the start.
The afternoon seemed to revolve around lasts: last meals, last drinks, and last moments of normalcy before our version of normal changed drastically for the next 10 days.
Nick, Michelle, Jess, and I were waiting around at the barn in the minutes before before the race, when a young guy with curly brown hair came in, and introduced himself as Bill Bradley.
I laugh now at this because Will is a cool guy and probably chuckles about it as well, but the whole room just deflated. This wasn't Epic Bill Bradley that we were expecting. I hoped he didn't feel unwelcome by our response to him. Will would end up blasting out 100+ miles before calling it quits from an injury. A great guy and a hilarious personality in the barn.
All of a sudden it was 3:50pm. Andy spat out a 5 minute meeting, and then we were outside, taking pictures before the start.
I had done a Peak Race or two before, so I knew what to expect when we started, and was not surprised when we were immediately hiking up vertical inclines. Nick flew out to the front right off the bat, and I just kind of hung with him as we seemed to be able to hike together at a good clip without blowing up. Will and Jess hung back, racing smart, and Michelle stayed within earshot of us as we power hiked inclines and ran flats.
That first lap was a bit of a shock as the course was revealed to us, mile by mile. Singletrack, dirt road, single track steep, bushwhack, bushwhack. All I can say to the 200, 100, 50, 30, and 15 mile racers is "You're Welcome!". We created that trail with our own two feet, over a week in rain and sun and day and night and good moods and bad moods.
Nick and I hit the peak in about 45 minutes. I had a feeling we were going too fast, but with no GPS or mile markers, we really couldn't be sure. It felt comfortable in the present, and that was all I was going for. We ran most of the way down the mountain to Middle Ravine, where there was a fair amount of standing water in the trail.
Down the insanely steep hill we ran, past the two small waterfalls, and before we knew it, we were standing atop the MeatGrinder. A rocky, somehow steeper downhill than the first. On this, the first lap, it hurt to go down, in that way that burns when you are holding yourself back to keep gravity from taking over.
Nick used his poles and I secretly wondered if I should have some, too.
After about 5 minutes of laboring down the MeatGrinder, we came to the river, walked the 100ft flat section, and transitioned directly to the SoulCrusher: en equally steep incline away from the river.
From there, we ran the endless switchbacks that would eventually dump us out into the field, that was just a 3 or 4 minute run back to the barn. When we arrived there, I checked my watch and wished I hadn't. Somewhere around or under 2 hours for the first loop. Stupid-fast. Unsustainable, ignorant, rookie-mistake fast. That would have been a great split for a 100 mile run. Not 500.
We ran together again on the second lap, and toned it down to a still-too-fast 2:30ish. It felt much better. I hadn't expected to get 20 miles in before dark, so the catch 22 was that yes, we had gone too fast, but it was a nice mental boost to be at 30 miles before midnight on the first night!
I needed to get in my own head and start figuring out what I was going to do for sleep, food, etc over the next 24 hours, so after that 2nd loop, as Nick, Jeff, and Steve were tending to feet, I fist-bumped Nick, transitioned quickly, and exited for a solo 3rd lap.
First impression of the first night on the course was owls. Owls everywhere. They were so loud, and they did not give a damn if I was walking right under their tree. It was magical.
The lap flew by, and I figured that as 11:30pm drew near, I was way ahead of schedule for 50 miles in 24 hours, and decided that the smart thing to do was to sleep.
I slept long because I believed that toward the end of this thing, it might get ugly. If I had extra time to sleep, I might as well take it.
I awoke around 3:30am to the sound of Nick and crew shuffling around in the barn around me.
He left for his day, and then so did I. I saw him in 5 min increments. He would finish his laps, I would catch up while he prepped his feet and spent more time being a smart racer in between laps.
I would leave with quick transitions and little foot prep and chill time between laps.
This would ultimately be the downfall of my feet, but I was stupid, and sometimes, ignorance is bliss.
The shitstorm of rain had begun, and we approached 70 miles in the first 24 hours... then a smoking fast 90 miles in under 30 hours. The shoes and socks were getting changed faster than they could dry. This was a problem.
I went to bed knowing that when I woke up, I'd be putting on damp shoes and socks, and the weather was not clearing. So when I got up 4 hours later and looked at my feet and felt how sore my legs were, I contemplated quitting right then and there. Shit was only going to go downhill from here and the way I felt now, I couldn't imagine what another 400 miles would feel like.
I forced myself onto the trail after a donut and coffee. It was still dark around 4am, but the sky was getting lighter. I looked up the trail and a headlight was looking back at me a few hundred yards away. The person would hike a few steps then look back. Who the hell? I made my way slowly on stiff legs to him, and he introduced himself as Josh. He was supposed to hike with Andy, but had ended up ditching Andy after waiting in his driveway for maybe 2 minutes past 4. This would be the subject of much banter when Andy finally caught up to us.
They went back and forth with insult after insult. It was hysterical and necessary. My shitty mood changed quickly as Josh went on and on about how poorly the course was marked...something Andy happens to be very sensitive about. As we made our way past Middle Ravine, I noticed a peculiar looking rock on the trail. Shit, that wasn't a rock at all.
Andy was nice enough to mule it back to the barn for me, and both were also nice enough to drop me off the back of their hiking date, leaving me to run by myself. Thanks guys!
The rain was beginning to taper, but the trail was still soaking wet with huge puddles, so as I approached 130 miles in 48 hours, the routine was still shoe/sock changes after every lap. From soaking wet to damp shoes and socks.
A couple more laps, and it was bedtime. As I settled into my tent in my pony stall for a short sleep with wet and blistered feet, I tried not to think about doing this every single day for the next 8 days.
I woke up feeling good just a few hours later. It was Sunday. Today felt different. The weather was clearing and I was in good spirits. I knew that at some point my wife Nicole would be around, with her sister and brother-in-law. I could feel the swelling beginning in my feet from the days of pounding, and she was on the way with some sweet new shoes from Wal Mart. Wide ones.
After 160 miles, Nicole and the gang were waiting for me, as they had planned on doing a lap. I threw on the size 12 Walmart specials. I also had a size 13, but hoped that I wouldn't need those for a while. They felt awesome. And as I walked through some puddles, realized that they weren't breathable enough to let much water in. Perfect! Poor-man's GoreTex.
I was in a pretty low spot during most of the lap with them, and wasn't much in the mood for talking. I felt guilty, but no matter what, I could not pull myself out. As the end of the lap came close, I was surprised to see friends Myles and Deidre running towards us. I was blown away. So many friends, here in the middle of nowhere. It was the boost I needed to come out of the gutter. Pep in my step returned, and we ended up running most of the way back! 170 done. I would grind out one more lap solo after reluctantly departing from Myles, Deidre, Nicole, Danielle, and Dave... and then, a new era in my race would change everything. The Mark Jones Era.
As I entered the barn after 180, Andy told me that tonight, Mark would be pacing me. We'd met when I was hanging at the Winter Death Race earlier this year.
He was in the process of winning it at the time, so our conversation was brief.
Our first lap was mostly small talk and pleasantries at first, and then more in depth as the night wore on. We were fast friends, and from then on, I had a crew chief. I had pizzas and burgers and dry socks waiting for me every few laps. He made sure I had a pacer for every night lap. It was amazing.
I parked it for a brief sleep, but not before the nightly routine of foot care while stuffing my face, and woke up Monday morning bright and early. It was nice knowing that Lily was coming from NY to run a lap with me today. It was great morale as I climbed past 200 miles. We chatted ultras and discussed her Cayuga 50 that was coming up. It was great, and she ended up running 17 miles with me. Huge morale boost. When Lily left, I decided that tonight I was going to hit 250 if it killed me.
A few laps solo, and 240 was in the books. I was kind of cooked but wanted 250 tonight. Luckily Mark must have had some inkling that this was going to happen, so he had arranged for a Party Lap. It was a who's who of awesomeness: Josh from the other morning, Mark, Sefra, and Matt the trail worker. Right off the bat, Josh had his phone out, playing every early 90s rap song from NWA's Straight Outta Compton to The Humpty Dance. It was fantastic. I went to bed that night feeling good about life. Pittsfield was rallying for me, an unknown dude, and for the first time during the entire race, I didn't feel alone in the fight against mileage.
Tuesday, the tough day. Thursday was the start, and Friday through Monday was a holiday weekend, so there were people all over the place for the first few days. On this day, no one was around. Jess and Will were in process of pulling the plug on their races, and there just seemed to be low energy around the barn. I was anxious for wednesday, when the 200 milers would be showing up in prep for their thursday start. Fresh faces excited to race might help the aura around the barn, I figured.
After coming back from 260, the biggest breakfast sandwich I had ever seen was waiting for me, thanks to Mark, who was waiting to see how things were going. I ate it graciously and took in what I came to call the Don Devaney Comedy hour. It was not just the racers getting loopy at this point...5 days in. Everyone had started feeling the effects of low sleep and high endorphins. Don was stoked and ready to go at 7am, half-naked and loud, hooting and hollering, hazing anyone in sight or earshot. We were in tears. I am laughing out loud as I type this.
My feet were killing me, and I had long since moved into my size 13s...I think officially around mile 220, the day before. Stopping hurt, so I tried not to. I knew that now, everyday was a HUGE chunk of remaining mileage gone. It was mentally nice to know that staying on pace would mean a Saturday night finish...somewhere around midnight. I didn't want to finish that late, so that was something I'd need to address later on. I just didn't know how at this point. Anything could happen over the next few days.
The trail was memorized. I started naming certain things. The Dinosaur Egg- a round white rock. The Owl- a large 200 pound rock that seemed to be staring at you as the crested the top of the SoulCrusher.
The lap that would bring me to 300 was going rough. I was staggering and extremely tired as the clock hit midnight. Mark and I made our way up SoulCrusher and as we came up over the top, Mark said, "Dude, The Owl is gone." Had we walked past it? No. The Owl was definitely gone. But how? Seriously? Was this some mystery Pittsfield gargoyle shit? This was some mental fodder for a good day and a half. Where does a 200 pound rock just disappear to?
I went to bed after 300 and some foot care, wondering about the Owl, and excited to see my buddy Nate tomorrow, who would be running the 200. I just wanted some fresh faces and the new energy that I knew the 200ers would bring.
My feet were fucked at this point. I debated just letting them go for the rest of the race as I hauled myself out of bed at 3am, but decided 200 miles is a little too far for that. I did damage control on my two pinky toes, attended to the two blisters by my big toe, gauzed the abrasions on the top of my left foot, and taped all of my toes off that were rubbing against each other that were creating blisters in between. This is where I missed having a real crew, who would do this job for me while I ate. This multi-tasking probably seems easy, but it was incredibly mentally taxing for me at this point.
I slogged 2 laps out, and was pleasantly surprised to see Nate Sanel waiting at the barn. It was such a boost to see him. A wear-tester for Skechers, he had hooked me up with 3 pairs for this race, and gave me a bunch of shit about my sweet Wal Mart Starters I was currently wearing.
He hiked to the top of the mountain with me, and we shot the shit about my race, his race, and life in general. It was great. I ran down solo, and hit the barn for some pizza at mile 330. As odds would have it, my buddy Matt Harlow walked in! I had made it a point to not sit around the barn for extended time in between laps, so the chances of him finding me actually at the barn were incredibly slim! I was super amped to do a lap with him, even though that particular lap was a grind and I didn't feel good at all during it. He brought food and dry socks and a winter hat.
He saved my day.
As I look back, hands down, the only reason I finished this was because of the random acts of kindness from strangers and surprise visits from friends. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.
I believe Margaret and I ran together for the lap that would be 350. We learned that we had a lot in common, discussing sustainable living, running, and crazy parasites stories. The night laps were never, ever easy, as the darkness just seems to suffocate and envelope you. It forces you to want to close your eyes. If Mark and Margaret hadn't arranged night pacers, I would have never been able to do those laps on my own. I climbed into bed not realizing that this night would be my last "real" sleep of 3 hours for the rest of the race, and things were about to get a little crazier.
Thursday morning. Today was the start of the 200 and also the winding down of our event. Sure, we still had 3 days of 50s left to go, but in my head I was on autopilot. I was going to finish unless something stupid happened. This made me emotional all too often. I'm sure the sleep deprivation was taking its toll as well, but there were times where I'd just be hiking and crying for no reason at all. It wasn't the pain. It wasn't the thought of finishing. It was just me, crying. For no reason.
"The Wake Up Lap", as Andy called the first lap after the "big" sleep, always sucked, so it was nice to come back to the barn for Thursday's edition of the Don Devaney Comedy hour. I told him about The Owl. He said that he saw it, and "took care of it".
Mafia style, Don had gone on some gangster shit and made The Owl disappear. I guess a 200 pound rock on Spartan Mountain isn't exactly safe from getting shot-put off the side of the trail.
Don was no longer funny, because now he was Don The Destroyer.
Mystery solved. The Owl was not a gargoyle, and he would not be coming back to roost on the top of the SoulCrusher.
Jess had pulled the plug on her race a few days ago, because of a nasty bout of cellulitis in her ankle..but her pacer Gary had flown in regardless. I was lucky to have him, as he did 20 or 30 miles with me on this day. At one point midday, I had no choice but to lay down in the castle at the top of the mountain for a 15 minute nap. I was sloppy and staggering and unable to keep my eyes open. I was grateful he was with me, and happy he was there to regulate my sleep.
My night loop that would bring me to 400 was done with Dennis, a professional obstacle racer. He was a cool dude. Before the 500, I was quite ignorant. I thought obstacle course racing was just kind of a fun-time fad thing. So wrong. These people are serious athletes and a person can actually make money doing it. That lap was tough, but the eye-opening and interesting conversation got me through. My laps were slow that day, so it was about 1am by the time I had finished my feet and food routine.
By this time, I got the feeling Nick and I were starting to jockey a little bit and make this a race. There was a good chance this was all in my head at this point as I really started feeling like I was going off the deep end a little bit, but I used it as motivation to not sleep as long as I wanted to.
I wanted to avoid us racing for the most part, as I think the worst situation for us- and a good way for both of us to DNF- was to be on the same lap, pushing each other. My way of avoiding this situation was to make my move, and to do it tonight. I was in bed at 1am, and up at 3am to start my next day. I tried to imagine that those 2 hours were a full nights sleep. Mark and I decided that from here on out, I would run 2 laps, then sleep an hour. In theory this would give me 4 hours of sleep a day...or close...and keep me fresh mentally.
It was now friday, and this ushered in the Stas era of the race. Stas was in town to crew for Michelle Roy, who had determined over the course of the week that she would go for 400. Some events over the beginning of the week had halted the chances of a 500 finish. Julie, another Michelle pacer, kind of had Michelle's needs all wrapped up, so Stas was more or less just hanging out. An avid runner, he hoped to get 50 miles in over the course of a couple days. I was solo, so he decided to run a bit with me after I banged out a lap by myself. I was really woozy. About a mile past the summit, I told him I couldn't go any further and that I needed to lay down. And lay down I did. Right in the middle of the trail, in a nice sunny spot. As I was passed out, Nate ran by, and then around me, after making sure with Stas that I was ok. Best 15 minutes ever. I felt like a new man after, and continued hammering for the rest of the day.
As I finished the night with Margaret on the loop that would bring me to 450, we were trudging through the mud in Middle Ravine around 11:30. When we saw two headlights coming at us at a speed I had not seen in over a week. No one had been moving that fast around here at this race! Who could these speed demons be, flying in the opposite direction of the race course? None other than Myles and Jonah! I almost died. At an hour where my mood was in the absolute shitter, these two come out of nowhere at the most ungodly hour to pull me out of the gutter. It was fantastic.
Morale was high, and the jokes dirty, and we made it back to the barn, where I felt guilty when I told them that I had to go to bed for an hour. After they'd only run with me for 30 mins, here I was, telling them that I had a sleep planned. The goal was to stick with the "Run 2 laps, sleep 1 Hour" plan. They were cool with it, and I was lucky they were there, because I turned my alarm off in my sleep. They let me chill for 10 mins longer than I planned before they came in to wake me up.
I ate something and did the foot-prep thing. Myles and Jonah helped where they could.
Here I was at 450, getting ready for the last day, and I decided that my feet could just fuck off.
I figured they could handle one last day of pounding and misery. To be honest, I was sick of dealing with them, and I didn't want to look anymore...because I would be worried and thinking about it every step. I didn't want to plant any seeds of doubt on this final day. Nick had to DNF last year at 460, and I didn't think I could handle getting so close and not finishing.
We were out the door around 1:30am and I was HURTING. What I didn't know was that I had just had my last sleep for the rest of the race. Had I known, my morale would have been worse.
Jonah, Myles and I actually made ok time to the top, and as we approached the summit, we were surrounded by the loudest symphony of owls, from all sides of the trail. We actually just stopped and marveled for a few minutes, blown away by how many and how loud they were. 5 minutes later, we were at the top looking at a nice doe who was grazing. Even 453 miles in, at 2:30 in the morning, one could really appreciate the beauty of this place.
The idea of having the 500 come down to a race was still in our heads as we made our way down the mountain. Typically, Nick had been getting out at 4am. If this was so, by the time we finished this lap, Nick would be 2 laps down to me, so when we finished the lap and saw that he had left at 2am, I had a small panicky moment. The last day or so, he had been doing faster laps than me, which meant he was only 1 lap down, with a whole day to make it up...and in my schedule there was 2 sleep breaks. He would almost certainly catch me. Nick is a competitor. You can see it in the way he prepares, and I can see it in his eyes, because I have the same blood.
I wasn't as worried about who would win this thing as I was about him catching up to me, and then us going neck and neck, absolutely detonating and destroying ourselves and DNFing at mile 480. Our first-lap soiree proved that perhaps we weren't good to run together. If he caught up to me, I could see that writing on the wall. I did not want that to happen. The only way to avoid that situation was for me to stay ahead by not taking my sleep breaks that were scheduled every 20 miles. It was going to be a grunt, but I hoped that the pull of the finish line would keep me going.
I hugged and thanked Jonah and Myles, who left after The WakeUp Lap, and Stas was back with me for what would be 460. I told him that I would not be sleeping for the rest of the event, and he thought that was a shitty idea. I didn't care. The other positive side to not sleeping meant a much earlier finishing time than 11 or 12 at night. I wanted to hang out with people and have a nice relaxing normal evening.
We plugged a few laps out, and then it was noon. I killed some food and headed out on what would be 490. By this time, the other races had started and were in full effect. The 15 milers were doing their thing as I hiked up the mountain. Matt, the trail guru ran past in full hiking boots like he was gliding on air, and just a few minutes later, I was more than happy to hear a familiar voice say "IS THAT A KALE POLAND?" I turned around to see Sefra smiling and running toward me. I told her I didn't want to slow her down. She said she was doing the 15 miler so she could run with me. Awesome.
We hiked to the top together, and I was moving SLOW. She ditched me after a photo op, because my lovely wife was waiting at the top to run down the mountain with me!
The night before, I had 2 hours of sleep. I got one hour before running with Myles and Jonah this morning. I was starting to get weird as I made my way down with Nicole. I didn't say anything because I knew it wasn't real and she would've worried or forced me to sleep or something... but I was starting to see letters on rocks. I knew no one was taking the time to write on every rock.
There weren't words, just random letters on almost every rock on the trail. I was hurting, and Nicole was maybe 100 feet up the trail. I watched her walk by two people who were standing there enjoying the waterfall, however when I got to the falls, no one was there. A half mile later, someone else, crouching in the woods, standing totally still. I realized that there was no life to this "person", and that it was just a mannequin. And then common sense hit me that there were no damned mannequins in these woods. I was hallucinating.
We finished the lap and Nicole wanted to know if she should come for the last lap of 500. In my head this was going to be a fast lap. Somehow I figured I would run like a demon and no one would be able to keep up. Obviously, this was far from the truth here at almost 500, but I told her that no, I wanted to go solo.
Everything was cool and relatively mentally clear as I made the final climb up the mountain, somehow passing some 50 milers, to their dismay. I did the usual power walk down the mountain, running where I could, knowing that each section I did was the last time I would ever have to. As I climbed the SoulCrusher, coming up from the river, the letters started showing up on rocks again. And then to my dismay, mannequins. If I looked off the trail, mannequins every time. I started to get a little freaked out and stared down at the trail on purpose because if I looked up, there was a new weird, lifeless human shape staring at me in broad daylight. Running switchback with my eyes glued downward, I was all of a sudden out at the field, just minutes away from a 500 mile finish. Nicole and my Mom and Aunt Ellen were waiting there, cameras at the ready. For a brief moment I didn't even think they were real because I was expecting the worst with my hallucinations.
I didn't want to be rude as I ran with them, but I started running fast. I couldn't wait to sit down and get my shoes off. People were cheering, and I stopped 50 feet past the barn for a minute at what I thought was the finish line, and then was instructed to keep running to the actual finish line, where a smattering of people's crews and runners from other events had congregated. Andy was there with a big grin. I'd been crying on and off all day just thinking about the finish, and when I crossed the line and hugged him, I really couldn't hold it back. Never did I think of finishing a full day early, and certainly not at the same time as the other events.
It was too good to be true, and without the support of total strangers that became friends, and friends that came from out of nowhere, I would not have survived this. Thank you, thank you!