2018 Mines of Spain 100 Mile Footrace

Ser·en·dip·i·ty
     noun: serendipity; plural noun: serendipities
     1. the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way

A view from above the old quarry, hard to believe it's in IA.
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

Serendipity. That was the word that repeated through my mind as I slogged through nearly waist deep, chilly water with only my headlamp to light the way. All the while telling myself excitedly and with some degree of disbelief “this is what I do for fun!” Did I actually mean it or was I trying to convince myself that this was still fun? Regardless, that is where I found myself and I intended to make the best of it. The path that led to me running the inaugural Mines of Spain 100 mile foot race in Dubuque, Iowa was strewn with many chance occurrences. Although these events all ultimately played a role in leading me to a very positive outcome of having a great time running a really cool race, several (one in particular) of those chance occurrences felt like huge negatives in the moment that I experienced them. That one in particular that I had trouble finding any positive about was the cancellation of the 2018 Eastern States 100. At the time the news broke and for weeks after I was pretty bummed about it. However, without that event being cancelled I would not have been on the search for another 100 mile race to squeeze in before the end of 2018. If Eastern States 100 hadn’t been cancelled, I highly doubt I would have made the trip from NJ to IA to run a 100 mile race. So in that regard, a positive was revealed due to the cancellation of the 2018 Eastern States 100. This was just one event of a much larger series of events that fell into the right set of circumstances and timing that ultimately led to me taking a road trip back home to IA to run a 100 mile race.

The start of the 100k and 100 mile race.
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

I could dive deep with this race report and tell you all about my roots and childhood in Iowa, but I’ll save that story for another time. I do have to cover a few details from that era as they are necessary to explain why someone just up and decides to drive halfway across the country to run a 100 mile race. Well, it’s not “THE” starting point, but it’s “A” starting point: I received a wedding invitation from a childhood friend that I met in kindergarten and have stayed in touch with to some degree ever since. My initial reaction was that I would likely not be able to make it. Between work and family life, I just didn’t see a long weekend trip happening in mid October. However, pieces started falling into place without me even realizing. Eastern States was cancelled and I was browsing Ultrasignup regularly to find a replacement 100 miler close to home. Thankfully, my wife was searching on my behalf and was not limiting her search to the Mid-Atlantic region. In fact, she found a 100 mile race that was only about a one hour drive from Davenport, IA (where I grew up and where my parents still live) which is only about a 20 minute drive from where my friend’s wedding was scheduled to take place. That race was the inaugural edition of the Mines of Spain. Even more amazingly, the race was scheduled to start on Friday (October 19th) at 8 AM giving me plenty of time to run a 100 miler and then make it to my friend’s wedding at 3:30 PM on Saturday (October 20th). When I considered the odds of the timing and location of all of these events falling into place so perfectly, I couldn’t resist and pulled the trigger on the Ultrasignup registration page.

One of the small creek crossings.
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

The first challenge of this ultramarathon was just getting to the area. When is the last time you made a 15 hour drive with your four and six year old kids? Well, that’s what my wife and I did just couple days before the start of the race. That long in the car is challenging no matter what and it’s even more challenging with kids in tow so we decided to make the drive overnight. We piled in the car Tuesday evening and drove straight through stopping only for gas and bathroom breaks. The kids fell asleep in NJ and woke up in IL to finish the drive into IA. It was tough, but in many ways it was better than breaking up the drive into a two day trip with the kids awake for the majority of it. My main concern was that I would be a bit sleep deprived to start when going into the early morning hours of the race making them a bit harder to deal with.

On the Horseshoe Bluff Trail running through the bottom of the old quarry.
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

The Mines of Spain course isn’t strictly a loop or out and back course. I would call it a hybrid of sorts with a stronger emphasis on the out and back sections. It is a 20 mile route with a few smaller loops mixed into out and back sections with three aid stations in addition to the start/finish area aid station. The way the course is set up allows you to stop at aid station 1 on two occasions: as the first aid station (kinda obvious) and again between AS 2 and AS 3. The stretch between AS 2 and getting back to AS1 is less than two miles, so it’s probably not really necessary to stop again, but it was nice to know there are plenty of opportunities for aid stops on the course. The course starts at Louis Murphy Park and follows a paved path down hill along a power line cut to Julien Dubuque Dr. where you run by the City of Dubuque Water & Resource Recovery Center (there’s a bit of a smell in the air around this area). This makes up about a 1.5 mile stretch after which there is one more short stretch of road running then the rest of the course is on trail. For the initial loop the RD added a very short out and back to run around the Julien Dubuque Monument overlooking the Mississippi. It was less than a quarter mile of extra distance and gave the photographers there a great opportunity to get a very picturesque photo of all the runners. After this there was about a quarter mile of trail with a lot of stairs, some metal, that I made a mental note of how treacherous they would be in the dark. After this a quick road crossing over a bridge before a half mile of trail, a half mile of road, and then a hard left and you’re on the Horseshoe Bluff Trail which in my opinion was one of the most scenic spots on the course and very unique for Iowa.

Photo from my first lap after circling the Julien Dubuque Monument.
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

The Horseshoe Bluff Trail starts with a climb then takes you through the old quarry where lead was mined in the late 1700’s when the land was owned by Spain, hence the name of the recreation area and the race. The trail sits at the bottom of jagged rock walls on either side. The rocky outcroppings are tall, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were over 100 feet high in some instances, making you feel pretty miniscule as you follow the relatively narrow path between them. Then you come to a fork in the trail and cross a short (and slick when wet) bridge to begin the lengthiest out and back section of the course. Over the course of this out and back you’ll pass through AS 1, make several small creek crossings (if you’re careful you should be able to keep your feet dry), and pass through forests and prairie grasslands dominated by big bluestem and Indiangrass. At the turnaround there was hole puncher hanging from a tree to mark your bib each time you passed. On the way back you’ll make an additional short out and back to AS 2 before returning back across the bridge and onto some new trail. From there it’s a lollipop section of the course with lots of stairs leading up to AS 3 and lots of stairs coming back down. A short out and back part of this lollipop section happened to be a bit flooded a little above ankle deep during the race for what I estimated to be a stretch of about 200 feet (I counted about 70 paces). There was no chance of keeping your feet dry here. And shortly after your return pass through this wet section you were treated to the most flooded section of the course. This section of the trail runs along Catfish Creek, a tributary which feeds into the Mississippi and is affected by water depths of the mighty Mississippi. By chance, water levels of the Mississippi were near record levels leading up to the race and serious flooding had occurred in many towns along the river. The result in regard to the race was a 300 foot or so section of trail with about three foot deep (depending on if you found a hole or not) water to wade through. Survive this and then it’s just a quick hop on the road to cross the flooded creek you just waded through, a little loop with a bit of a climb and a descent, and then you’re on your way back up the metal stairs and on the road past the water treatment facility to return to the start/finish area.

The short, slick bridge mentioned above.
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

And that’s the Cliff’s Notes version of the course overview. If it sounds a bit confusing with all the out and backs, forks, and a lollipop that’s because it is. The area is made up of a lot of interconnected trails, many of which are relatively short when a 100 mile run is the goal. Without being familiar with the trail network, I thought the race did a great job of using the trails available to create a fun and more challenging than expected 20 mile course. Course marking was good, but even so I found myself questioning if I had taken the right turn several times during my first lap. This usually was shortly after one of the trail junctions and usually due to my uncertainty of having chosen the right turn, not due to me not seeing any flagging. For that reason, I would highly recommend anyone planning on running this race to study the course map leading up to the race. I know I regretted having not studied it and wished I had made myself more familiar with it ahead of time.

 Left: A small portion of the stairs leading to AS 3. Right: The least helpful volunteer at the race.

(yes, it's a Tonya Harding cardboard stand up)

Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

My primary goal for this race was a time goal. It’s hard to set a goal for a race that is on unfamiliar terrain, so I tend to error on the side of overreaching. This course had an elevation gain of 14,000 feet, so not flat and fast and especially not so by Midwest standards. I decided to shoot for a 20 hour finish, partly because the math would be easy to do during the race: 5 laps X 4 hours/lap = 20 hours. The math was easy, as it would turn out the running would be much harder. For the most part, the course is completely runnable. At least that’s what I thought for the first lap which went really well. Other than the aid station stops I think I ran the entirety of the first lap. I spent the first half of it running and chatting with another guy then he fell back a little after AS 2. This left me alone in front running in first place, an abnormal experience for me. I questioned what the hell I was doing running out front ahead of my target pace, but the course just felt runnable. I even ran the entire paved climb up the powerline cut, one of the most notable elevation gains on the course. Making it back to the start/finish AS was exciting as I arrived in under 3.5 hours, way ahead of my target pace. Even more exciting was that my parents made it there in time to cheer me on and get their first taste of what ultrarunning is. And more exciting on top of that was the fact that the second place runner came into the AS within a minute or two of me and was back out on the course very quickly. I rushed a bit and was back out on lap two hoping that I had a shot of keeping up with him.

It's all smiles for the first 20 easy miles, see completely runnable.
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

I passed him on the paved downhill after leaving the aid station and didn’t see him again until AS 1. I had sat down for a second there to relube my right foot that had developed a bit of a hot spot. While doing that the other runner flew through the aid station and didn’t even stop to refill a water bottle. I had my doubts about catching him again at that point, but gave it a shot anyway. The rest of lap two felt pretty much as good as the first, but was a little discouraging because at every out and back on the course I realized that this other runner that I was trying to chase kept on extending the gap between us a little bit farther and farther. I believe that it was by the end of lap three that I wasn’t even seeing him on the returns from the out and backs anymore.

This wasn't the deepest section and the water only got colder as the day went on.
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

It was probably around that time at the start/finish AS after lap three that I started sliding into the lowest points of my race experience. It was dark by this point and the water level of the flooded section of the trail near the end of the loop seemed to be getting deeper with every pass. It was certainly getting chillier every time I waded through it. I had finished my third lap just under the 12 hour mark so I was still on pace to meet my time goal, but after 60 miles my body was starting to tire and the pace of my most recent lap was showing it. I conceded the fact to my wife that my time goal was not going to happen today. Then I started complaining about my feet hurting. That’s when she hit me with a shocker that I didn’t believe. She told me I was in fourth place. I didn’t argue, but I didn’t believe her either. No one had passed me, not even 100k runners. I didn’t give it much more thought at the aid station and prepped for my next lap. I put on a heavier thermal three quarters zip down and gloves. I took in some calories, pretty much just simple sugars which had been the majority of my fuel thus far. Then chewed down some candied ginger to hopefully settle my stomach which had begun to feel a little disgruntled. With that I headed out into the night for loop four.

My before (left) and after (right) pics.
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

My fourth loop may have been the toughest for me. I’m pretty sure it was my slowest. Emotionally, it was the lowest I got during the whole event. I wasn’t holding a high importance on placement at this race. But when I was under the impression that I was securely in second while sliding into a low point and at that moment was told I was actually a couple places back from where I thought I was it affected me. More than it ever should have. During much of that fourth loop I replayed all the laps from earlier in the day trying to figure out how two people passed me without my noticing. It didn’t add up. Then I started getting frustrated with the out and backs. The first long out and back to the hole puncher was my nemesis while I ran it. “I only have to run this stupid out and back one more time”, was my mantra for it during that lap. I don’t know why, but that one really got to me. By this point I was finding many parts of the course that were no longer runnable for me. The miles had taken their toll and my mental outlook had changed. I knew it was bad at one point when I caught my toe on a small rock and stumbled but stayed on my feet. Rather than just being happy that I didn’t full on superman and land on my face I stopped to look at the rock that I tripped on and call it a few choice words. When I started running again after that incident and gave it a little thought I was able to laugh at myself over it. Thankfully for that event and seeing the comedy of it in the moment my attitude started to turn around a bit. It was during this fourth passing through the now nippy water that I began recognizing how lucky I was to be in that nearly waist deep water. Locals said that the water level in the creek was higher than they had ever seen it. One more in a long string of chance occurrences that led to me being waist deep in the cold water in the middle of an Iowa night saying to myself “this is what I do for fun!”

Crossing the finish line!
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

That fourth lap took me about 5.5 hours putting me at about 17.5 hours to reach the 80 mile mark with one loop left to finish. Coming into the start/finish aid station this time I felt like I was still in a bit of a funk, but not as bad as I had been for the majority of the fourth lap. I think the lack of sleep was catching up to me as I was feeling more sleepy and overall grogginess than I ever have at any previous 100 mile attempt. But with only 20 miles to go the end was in sight which motivated me and reignited a bit of fight in me. My wife told me again that I was still in fourth place and that another runner had left the AS a few minutes before me. Last time she told me this I didn’t believe her, but I had accepted it at this point. However, like I said I had a bit of fight back in me at this point, I argued with her for just a few sentences about how that wasn’t possible. Not wanting to waste time and just wanting to get this done, I quit arguing pretty quickly and headed out from the aid station to see if I could catch any of these runners that had passed me. In hindsight, that may have been what pushed me to pick up my pace a bit for my last lap. I passed a few runners over the course of that final lap moving better and more determinedly than the previous lap. I wouldn’t find out until the finish though that they were all 100k runners. During this last lap I moved better between aid stations, but spent a bit more time refueling and enjoying the mental boost from the volunteers there. And the volunteers at these aid stations were stellar. Unbeknownst to me at the time, but I actually spent a bit of time with the legendary Ann Trason at my final aid station stop. I found out later that she was even at the race when the race photos were posted. To think, I spent my last aid station stop with Ann Trason debating whether or not to take a shot of Fireball before heading to the finish. If I had known who I was with at the time I’m sure I probably would have had some other questions, but it was a very fun aid station stop with some laughs regardless. And yes, in the end I did take the Fireball shot before heading out for the last stretch to the finish.

My first time to ever literally occupy a podium spot after a race!
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

The smell of a water treatment facility never smelt so sweet as it did during that final pass by it when I knew I was within a mile of the finish line. I happily returned to the finish line for the last time to be pleasantly surprised that my wife and kids were all awake and there waiting to cheer for me as I made my way across the finish line. Nothing in my experience will give you a greater boost of energy than having your kids cheer for you at the finish of a 100 miler. At that moment if you asked me I would have told you I could run another hundred. The RD, Joshua Sun, and a group of super energetic and cheerful volunteers were all waiting as well to congratulate me on the finish. Shortly after coming in the photographer asked to get my after pic as they were taking before and after pics for all the runners. She then told me to make sure I get my buckle and hardware from Josh. He was right there handing me the biggest buckle I’ve received for any race and the only one in the shape of the state of Iowa. He then proceeded to hand me a second place finisher award. A bit confused I questioned why I was receiving it. He went on to tell me that I had been in second place pretty much the whole race, ever since the first lap. I was pleasantly surprised by this and then realized that all the runners I had passed during the last lap were 100k runners. It turns out that my wife was getting tracking information off of some live updates and apparently the information was incorrect. Whether it helped or hurt my overall time being fed that information, I can’t know. What I do know is that it definitely

I got chilly quickly after the finish. And the sun surprised me,
but damn that was some good hot chocolate!
Photo Credit:  Mile 90 Photography

brought me down emotionally for that fourth lap, but it got me to push harder for the final lap. Regardless, it made those last two laps much more interesting than they would have been otherwise and provided a decent amount of laughs when I recounted the story after receiving the second place finisher award. And in the end, even though I missed my time goal, I was happy with my official finish time of 22:38:10, good enough for second overall.




Scott Snell
November 10, 2018

I made it to my buddy's wedding with my lovely wife and was even able to dance, albeit a little awkwardly. 

2018 Twisted Branch 100k

The Starting Line. Photo credit for all photos with TB logo:  Goat Factory Media Entertainment

“Your movement, your effort is a pinnacle of what you can do” 

-- Joe Grant

The Twisted Branch 100k is a 64ish mile trail race that makes use of the extensive Finger Lakes Trail system to provide a point to point course from Naples, NY to Hammondsport, NY. The course offers just a small sample of the Finger Lakes Trail system as the trail network in its entirety covers over 950 miles of trail. The trail system is managed by the Finger Lakes Trail Conference (FLTC) and maintained primarily by volunteers. With that in mind, I want to begin this race report with a huge thank you to the FLTC and all of the volunteers who have given their time to build and maintain these trails for me and so many others like myself to enjoy. Your work is truly very much appreciated.

Having never hiked or ran any of the Finger Lakes Trails before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I tried doing a little research before by searching for images and videos of the trails and reading a few race reports from previous years of the TB100k. All the images and videos I could find made the trail look pretty runnable. Nothing I found made it look anywhere near as challenging as the Worlds End 100k course which is the only other 100k I had previously run so I was using that as my basis for comparison. Comparing the course records for the two races (10:14 for TB100k and 11:37 for WE 100K) seemed to support my conclusion that Twisted Branch should be a faster 100k than Worlds End. The race reports I read made me question this conclusion as they often described the trails as rugged and tough. Several of the reports told accounts of chasing cut offs and missing cut offs. In talking with others who had run the course, I often heard it described as tricky, which perplexed me a bit as a course description. I decided to cautiously rely more heavily on the hard numbers of the course records and trail photos as evidence that TB 100k would be a less challenging course than WE and that as long as I a have a good day I would be able to finish the course faster than WE.

Camping Area at the Start.

I began checking weather forecasts about a week out as I do for every race and found that most forecasts were predicting rain for nearly the entire weekend. As race day got closer, the forecasts changed a bit and were only predicting rain over night before the race and during the AM hours of race day. I planned accordingly and packed my drop bag with dry socks and a dry pair of shoes and labeled it for “The Lab” aid station which would be just before the halfway point and hopefully after the rain had stopped. With a plan in place which could not possibly fail, I was ready for race day. 

Pre Race Registration. Photo credit:  Goat Factory Media Entertainment

There was a light drizzle of rain as we set up our tent at the camping area near the starting line, but not a full on rain as I thought we might be in for. The registration area was a bit more crowded than most ultras I’ve run. It was also one of the few that I’ve been to that have vendor tables. Altra, Darn Tough Socks, and couple others were there. After picking up my swag bag, having my pre race photo taken, and chatting with the Altra rep for a bit, it was time for the mandatory pre race meeting where the Race Director, Scott Magee, went over race information and safety precautions. Shortly after the remaining daylight began fading quickly so I helped get the kids ready for bed and than put myself to bed in hopes of getting some good sleep before the early 4 AM race start. 

Camping Area at the Start

My alarm went off and woke me from a dead sleep, from dreams that I can’t remember. This is a good thing. That means that I slept well. I went through my standard race morning prep: lube (I tried using Squirrel’s Nut Butter for the first time as I got a sample at registration) the feet and areas that chafe, take two Imodium pills, eat two peanut butter sandwiches, and try to poop. With my race morning ritual complete, I headed to the starting area and finished the final check in. I ran into one running buddy at the starting area who was pacing for someone at the race, but otherwise I didn’t see many of the other familiar faces I’ve come to expect at PA trail races. We chatted a bit about the course and how neither of us had much of any kind of idea of what to expect. After a few minutes, the RD began a final pre race announcement and the race was on.

My Friend, Royce

The course starts out on trail just wide enough to run two abreast, but the trail quickly narrows to single track. Starting out the day cautiously, I didn’t want to push too hard to get ahead early and ended up in a bit of a conga line somewhere in the middle of the pack. My initial impression of the trails were that they are somewhat technical with a good deal of exposed roots that were slick due to the wet conditions, but they were completely runnable in my opinion. I began questioning early on if I was taking it too easy to start as the conga line was hiking many of the short and not too steep climbs that I thought were runnable. For better or worse, I reigned in my ego and only passed any other runners when another runner near me decided to make a pass. This meant I was not alone at all until the I reached the first aid station (Cutler) at 6 miles. I ate a gel and shoved one in my vest for later and continued on. Shortly after the first AS, the course hopped onto the first paved road portion of the course. At this point runners began to spread out a bit which I was thankful for because it was feeling a bit congested to me on the tight single track having a runner immediately in front of and behind me for the first six miles.

It's all business at the aid stations.

After about a half mile of road we were back on the trails. I was with a group of about four other runners, two of whom were the lead females who spent the next stretch of trail trading the lead with one another. It was at about this time that the sky really opened up and the rain started to fall. The sun was just starting to rise, but it was still awfully dark on the trails with the stormy skies and shadows from the forest blocking the majority of the light. The miles began to pass quickly and quietly with this group in the rain until somewhere shortly after aid station 3 that I found myself running all alone on a paved road. It was here at about the 17 mile mark that I clicked off some faster road miles with what felt like minimal effort that I started thinking about race strategy. I looked at the race the way a wise ultrarunner that I met and ran with for a good part of the course this year and last at Worlds End. He broke the 100k distance in roughly 20 mile sections and tackled them individually. He explained it as having a plan for each section. For me this meant taking the first third of the race easy. At this point in the day I felt I had achieved that and my legs were still feeling good. I figured the next 20ish miles I would push the pace a bit and then the last 20 I would try to maintain and see what’s left at the end. 

While the Rain Was Falling

Employing this strategy, I ran the 10 miles or so at what felt like a harder effort. At that point I reached aid station 5, “The Lab”, where my dry shoes and socks were waiting. While changing and thinking about how great my feet would feel after being soggy for the last three hours or so, a volunteer reminded me that they would likely get soaked again. Not what I wanted to hear, but true nonetheless. I headed out from the aid station enjoying my dry feet for the moment. It was probably only a matter of one to two miles before a road crossing that had a small river running along the side of it that was uncrossable without going ankle deep. Shortly after that the course rounded the edge of a corn field where my feet sank just short of ankle deep in the soaked ground. The dry clean socks were glorious while they lasted.

After the Rain... You Live Again!! (You know you just sang that Nelson song)

Even with wet feet, I was still feeling good for the next 13 miles or so to aid station 7, “Bud Valley”. I passed a few runners in that stretch which is always a bit of a mental boost. Even more of a mental boost was that my wife and kids were waiting at this aid station to support me. I spent a little more time than normal at this aid just to get a hug from the wife and kids, but moved out trying to pick up the pace a bit as my wife informed me that the last runner had just left the aid station a few minutes earlier. The second half of a longer distance race is the part that I find most enjoyable. Yes, it will likely be far more painful than the first half, but if you start your race with the middle of the packers and race conservatively until the second half you begin to see the carnage the distance inflicts on the runners that went out too hard. Even if you’re hurting a bit, when you pass another runner at the 37 mile mark who still has about a marathon distance to go and looks half dead already, it makes your situation seem far more manageable. It motivates me to push to catch the next runner who went out too hard and blew up 20 miles from the finish. It’s not the right strategy for every runner and to each their own, but for me running a smart first half and trying to close the second half strong has worked out pretty well. 

The Finish Arch

I felt like I was chasing this runner who had “just left” AS 7 forever. One aid station and about 10 miles later I finally caught sight of him. He was climbing the last big gain before aid station 9, “Lake David”, at about mile 50. He was climbing strong and at this point my quads were starting to feel the wear of all of the small and short climbs throughout the middle section of the course. I was motivated to catch him though as I hadn’t seen any other runners since AS 5. After the climb the course drops you out into a clearing around a large lake with the aid station on the opposite side of the lake. I circled the lake chasing him and trying to look like I wasn’t tired after just redlining it on that climb. He got into the aid just before me and barely even stopped. Although I didn’t pass through as quickly as this guy I was chasing, there were a couple other runners (or a runner and pacer, not sure) in the aid station as we passed through which helped keep me from feeling too bad about watching this guy I’ve been chasing down for the last two hours breezing through the aid station.

I was a bit demoralized at this point as the guy I chased for so long was out of sight again leaving the aid station, but I realized I had less than 15 miles until the finish and my legs felt ok still. I knew that if there was any time to push it now was that time. I turned to the words of my 4 and 6 year old boys the night before for encouragement. The younger of the two told me to win the race. I had responded with it being unlikely, but I would do my best. My older boy told me to get in the top five. Having no idea what place I was in at the time, but knowing that I’ve been only gaining places since starting off with the mid-packers I fantasized that a top five finish may be possible. But it would only be possible if I pushed hard for the remainder of the race. I did something I usually don’t do during races and put my headphones in and turned on some music. I immediately felt an increase in energy. I started cranking out some faster miles immediately. Within minutes I passed another runner who had blown up. A few minutes after that I finally caught the guy I had been chasing on a downhill stretch of fire road. I told him that I had found my third wind after turning on some music and he gave me a pat on the back as I passed him. Not too long after that my headphones started crapping out on me. Not wanting to fight with them and get pissed off about it, I just took them off and put them away. From there on I had a new mantra: “honest effort”. I didn’t know what place I was in and I didn’t want to get passed by anyone so at every little incline or climb where I began to think that it would be nice to take a break from running and hike this I told myself to give an honest effort to run it before resorting to hiking. And with that mantra I did not stop running for much.

And now time to recover.

I spent more time at the second to last aid station than I wanted to just because the volunteers there were so cheerful and fun. I was in a bit of a goofy state of mind, but managed to push myself through after a pic (which I would love to see) of me giving a two thumbs up rating for the awesome course. I reached the final aid station, “Urbana”, without any runners catching me which was now my greatest fear. I drank coke and ate a gel which was my standard aid station routine at this point. It was a busy aid station with lots of spectators which was great to motivate me for the last big climb of the race which followed immediately after. After what was probably the steepest and most continual climb of the course I finally became frustrated. It wasn’t the fact that my dry shoes got soaked after only a mile or so. It wasn’t that tough climb just six miles from the finish. It was all of the little climbs between that final big climb and the finish. For the last four miles or so of this race it feels like the trail just messes with you and takes you up and down the same hillside. Maybe it was due to the nearly 13 hours of running previously, but I did not enjoy the last four miles of this course until I exited the trail to see the final road crossing and the finish line on the other side. Maybe that’s just the “tricky” part of this course.

Me Looking Disappointed at My Beat Up Feet

At the finish I got to give a big high five to my son who was perched on the bridge just before the finish line. I finished in 12:56:21 (which was only good enough for 8th place, apologies to my sons), well under my goal time of 14 hours. In retrospect, maybe my goal time wasn’t challenging enough. But when you’re running a course that is completely unfamiliar, it’s easy to misjudge. I am definitely guilty of that with my first crack at Worlds End where I severely underestimated how much the difficulty of the course would slow down my pace. While the Twisted Branch course was definitely not as technical as Worlds End, I’m not saying it is an easy course. There is still nearly as much elevation gain (10,458’ at TB and 12,091’ at WE) according to my Strava data. In my opinion, it was the road sections of the TB course that really improved my overall pace. When you can crank out some sub 9 minute miles on a rolling downhill paved road it’s going to increase that average pace even if there’s only about 5 road miles on the course. I kinda enjoyed the road sections to break up the course a bit also. It felt good to be able to just open it up a little and not worry about footing for a break every once in awhile. Another item that set this race apart from others was the Excel pacing tool provided on the website. This amazing Excel sheet was the most useful pace planning tool I have ever experienced. I may be a bit more impressed by it than most just because I'm a bit of a spreadsheet nerd, but I encourage you to play with it and then tell me it's not cool. On top of all of this, the finish area was awesome with great food (the burritos and broth were amazing) and a local brewery (The Brewery of Broken Dreams) had kegs of an IPA and stout. All in all, I highly recommend checking out Twisted Branch if you’re in the market for a 64ish mile adventure. And this just in, I recently heard that Twisted Branch is now a Western States qualifier race. So if that's your jam, here's another Beast Coast option.

Felt good to clean up at the lake at the finish!

Scott Snell
September 9, 2018

2017 Eastern States 100

2017 Eastern States 100

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear."

- Mark Twain

I’m not going to lie. I was scared of facing the Eastern States 100 course. It was less than a year ago that I ran my first 100 miler (TARC 100) for the primary purpose of overcoming my fear of the 100 mile distance in order to begin working on my goal of completing the 2017 Pennsylvania Triple Crown Series with some semblance of confidence. That first 100 miler went well, far better than I had hoped it would. I had the confidence from my first 100 miler going damn near perfectly driving me up until Worlds End 100k (the second race of the three race series) where things got a little rough. At a low point during that 100k I began to question my resolve to finish the series. After the race, I tried my best to focus on the positives that came out of the experience:  overcoming rough patches during a long race, having a realistic nutrition plan, and realizing in the moment that highs and lows are both temporary. Try as I might to concentrate on the positives, during the entire training period between Worlds End and Eastern States I couldn’t quite manage to get that little pessimistic voice in my head to completely shut up. Honestly though, that annoying little voice had a convincing argument. The argument was something along the lines of “You may have done a hundred miler, but you’ve never done a tough hundred miler with 20,000 feet of elevation gain and technical trails like Eastern States. Hell, Worlds End 100k nearly broke you with 12,000 feet of gain. Not to mention, you’ve only done one 100 miler that just happened to go well. How do you know that wasn’t just a fluke?” Needless to say, it wasn’t the most enjoyable training block I’ve ever submitted myself to. However, in a way that voice was more motivating than any kind of positive reinforcement could be. The motivation to prove it wrong drove me to train for Eastern States and run the course as best I could even if I wasn’t sure I would make it to the finish.

Arriving at the bib and packet pick up at Little Pine State Park the evening before the race made my head start to spin. It all kind of felt surreal in a way. It wasn’t the nervous excitement that I’ve felt before other races. It felt like I was on the precipice of completing a major journey. The thought had crossed my mind to attempt the PA Triple Crown Series in 2016. However, I did not have the qualifying races required to register for Eastern States until after all the spots had been filled. So, I spent 2016 preparing. Now I was only a few hours and 102.9 miles away from completing the goal I had set for myself nearly two years ago. It was all a bit overwhelming. Thankfully, my wife and two boys had made the trip with me to camp for the weekend while I ran. That helped me bring it all back into perspective and realize that whatever importance or value I had attached to this goal was just that:  the value I assigned to it. No matter how the race went; I would still be the same dad and husband to them, I would still go back to the same job next week, and most people in my daily life would have no clue about it. Maybe I was using this thinking as a bit of a mental strategy and to keep my head from spinning. Based on training runs and past races, I’ve found a little apathy can do wonders.

Just after bib pick up at the start/finish area. 

After setting up our tent and letting the boys play in the water for a bit we settled down for the night. I went through my gear and made sure everything was ready for the morning. Then I went through the schwag bag to be seriously impressed with how much quality stuff was in it. Let’s start with the bag itself. It was an Osprey brand pack that looks like it is water resistant and perfect for doing some fastpacking adventures. Inside was a pair of wool socks, a running hat, and running shirt. It was far more than I expected for schwag, but then again Eastern States pretty much goes above and beyond expectations in every department.

Schwag! Minus the socks.

It felt like my alarm went off early, but even with the 5 AM start time I still managed to get a good six hours of sleep. I crawled out of my sleeping bag, threw my clothes and gear on, and said my silent goodbyes to my family before making my way to the starting area. I hopped into the weigh in line and made it through then hopped into the bathroom line and dropped a healthy deuce before heading to the starting line with just a couple minutes to spare. This was a huge mental boost for me. It felt like my body told me it was ready for what lies ahead. The waste was excreted, now it was time to move. The timing was nearly perfect. Shortly after arriving at the starting line, we had the countdown and the race was off with the sound of people cheering, bells ringing, and hoots and hollers. Then a minute later it got extremely quiet and a dichotomy of ultras hit me. The fact that so much energy is felt at the start, finish, and at certain aid stations contrasts so dramatically with the majority of the time running an ultra where (at least in my experience) I am usually alone and for the most part hearing only the wind and my footsteps. It was an interesting thought at the time, and I may have given it more depth than it deserved for the mere fact that my mind needed a distraction away from thinking about what I was about to force my body to endure.

With that distraction on my mind, I jogged along the paved road (which was the majority, if not the only paved section of the course) to the campground before we hit a bottleneck at the trailhead and the start of the single track. It wasn’t long after hitting the single track that we arrived at the first big climb of the course. I took it easy and reminded myself that there was no reason to push hard this early; the course will provide plenty of opportunities to blow your quads up later. Either during or not long after that climb the sun started to rise and my headlamp was no longer necessary. I arrived at the first aid station feeling good and fresh. I filled my Paw Patrol and TMNT bottles, ate a gel and packed one for between aid stations, and grabbed a few bites of food before moving on. I was surprised to see it, but they also had an entire gum section at this aid station. Maybe it was just because I hadn’t brushed my teeth that morning, but gum sounded surprisingly refreshing so I grabbed a piece to chew on as I left.

I made my way along the trail with the mindset of enjoying the day. If I don’t enjoy it, what’s the point? The sights and smells were great and I got into a flow knowing that I would get to see my wife and kids at AS3 (Lower Pine, mile 17.8). Just before AS2 a few runners and myself got to see a black bear that we scared off of the trail, no big deal after working at Shenandoah National Park for a summer. Otherwise, that stretch of the course was uneventful. Arriving at AS3 and seeing my boys rejuvenated and gave me a much greater boost than I was expecting. Their excitement was real and I felt it. I continued my plan of eating some real food and a gel at each aid station and packing a gel to go and continued on.

Lower Pine AS3, Mile 17.8.

Soon after leaving the aid station, the course follows a gravel road up a good stretch of an easy, but sustained climb. Some were hiking it, but I was feeling good and decided to jog this not so steep and non-technical climb. The next event of note did not occur until between AS5 (mile 31.6) and AS6 (mile 38.5). Somewhere during this stretch the rain that was forecasted for the day showed up. It was short lived, but the rain was heavy and soaked everything. I believe it was also during this stretch that I attempted to make a creek crossing without getting my feet wet by balancing across a slick log. I knew it was a bad idea and it ended with me standing in the creek telling myself that. Suffice to say, the rain didn’t soak anything that wasn’t already wet. Soggy, but in good spirits, I rolled into Ritchie Rd (AS6). I ate more there than at previous aid stations making my way from one side of the aid station table to the other. It was there that I had my first perogi of the day. It was delicious and and mashed potato perogies would become my staple for the rest of the day.

Shortly after leaving this aid station the course follows a powerline cut for a gradual climb. It was somewhere at this point that I had to hop off of trail to take care of some business. Once my GI stuff was resolved, this non-technical section felt easy. Other than a few mud puddles due to the earlier heavy downpour, this stretch of the course was cake. In addition, I had the fact that my wife and kids were waiting for me at the next aid station to spur me on. I arrived at AS7, Hyner Run (mile 43.2), in what felt like a flash. I ate a buttload of bacon and watermelon then shared some Swedish Fish with my three year old son. Up to this point I hadn’t given place much thought. I was paying attention to my pace mainly to see if I was going to be keeping my wife waiting at the aid stations for me. The pace and aid station arrival times I had given her were based on a best case, perfect day scenario of a 25 hour finish. Surprisingly, I was surpassing those splits at this point. Looking at past results, I expected a sub 25 hour finish to easily be a top 20 place finish. I was shocked when she told me that I was in 38th place at that point. I wasn’t disappointed, but more excited. My initial thought when I heard that was “a new course record will be set today”.

Hyner Run AS7, Mile 43.2, where I feasted on bacon.

With that somewhat bittersweet news, I continued on to the next aid station which I expected to be a water only aid station. Upon arrival, it was anything but. They had perogies there. I ate my fill and continued on to AS9, Halfway House (mile 54.7), where I saw my wife and boys for the last time before the finish. There was one additional aid station for spectators, but I would arrive there too late for my wife to bring the boys there. She had to take them back to camp and get them to bed. With the sun beginning to set at the time, I said my goodbyes and thanked my wife for being so supportive. The inspiration that kids bring is irrational. I moved on and focused on covering the distance. My goal was to continue to take the course on in sections. At every aid station I would ask how far it was to the next and then focus on making it there. To assist that goal, every aid station had a print out posted of the distance and elevation profile from the current aid station to the next. Mad props to the race director for that.

This strategy worked great for me. I covered miles without thinking about the majority of the remaining distance I had to cover. It wasn’t until AS12 that I got my next surprise. At the Alegrines (mile 62.9) aid station they were recording and posting runners’ places and arrival times. The last I had heard from my wife at the halfway point was that I was in 38th place. At this aid station, while I was casually eating a grilled cheese sandwich, they announced that I was in 16th place! How that happened, I have no clue. It scared me more than it motivated me. But I continued on just hoping that I could at least make it to the finish with a top 20 spot.

I ran on and shortly before reaching the next aid station (Long Branch, mile 75.6) I came upon another runner. It was dark, and it felt like I came upon the light that I had seen in the distance rather quickly. I intended to give my standard kudos to the guy and continue on my way until I was about to pass him. Then I realized how badly he was shivering and when he finally turned his head and made eye contact with me I saw a fear in his eyes. I tried to motivate him letting him know that it was less than a mile to the next aid station. His response was “Yeah, I’ve been telling myself that.” I kicked myself for not carrying the emergency blanket that was included with my hydration vest. When I bought it I thought “emergency blanket? Emergency whistle? When will I ever need these?” I told him I would hurry to reach the next aid station and let them know he was on his way and could use some help. Shortly after I arrived there and informed them of the situation they had a runner on his way with a jacket to assist.

Not carrying emergency equipment is a general mistake. My real first race mistake didn’t come until AS14 (Blackwell, mile 80.3). It was at this point that I had left my one and only drop bag for myself with dry shoes and fresh socks. I had had wet feet since around mile 30 and they didn’t feel that bad. I went off of feel and the philosophy that if your feet feel ok don’t worry about them. I turned away the super helpful volunteer who offered me my drop bag saying that I wouldn’t need it. Later I would regret that. I drank some coffee and ate a piece of pizza then continued on. Shortly after, I jumped over a rattlesnake that was just on the edge of the trail rattling at mel. Then I hit a super technical and super slick rocky descent. Somewhere around this point I realized how bad my feet felt and my second to pinky toe (ring toe?) nail flipped back. It hurt and I told myself that it would make the last 20 miles interesting.

I made it to the next aid station and that is when my head totally messed with me. I was at Sky Top (AS15, mile 84.8) where they provided some of the best care that I had received all day. I got soup with a pierogi in it. They changed my headlamp batteries and gave me spare batteries. I got Vaseline for the chafing under my armpits. But for some reason, I left thinking that I had six miles to the next aid station then four miles to the finish. In reality I had eight miles to the next aid station, then six miles to the final aid station, then four miles to the finish. It was only a difference of eight miles,but it seemed like an infinite distance at the time that I realized the mileage wasn’t adding up after leaving Sky Top. And with that realization my body began to let me know how much everything else was hurting. My feet were soaked and blistered. My armpits and crotch were badly chafed. It had taken me 80 some miles to get there, but I had reached my lowest point of the race. I finally reached the next aid station at Barrens (mile 92.8), but I was in such a funk mentally and my body was hurting so bad that I didn’t want to eat anything. I was sick of gels and I was sick of everything sweet. I forced myself to drink some coke and continued on with my negative mantra of “everything hurts”.

Thankfully, between Barrens and the final aid station the sun came up. This was something that I had been looking forward to. I had never done a race before where I had run all night and I got to see the sunrise. It was motivating to have daylight break and turn my headlamp off. With that bit of motivation, I continued on to the final aid station even though my feet said no. I reached the final aid station (Hackettes, mile 99.1) and passed through quickly eager to reach the finish. Even though it was less than four miles to the finish, it certainly didn’t feel like the home stretch. There was still one more climb to overcome. At the top of that climb, I decided I had to pee. Unfortunately, I put things away a bit too early and leaked a bit in my shorts. I was close to the finish and I didn’t want to show up there looking like I had just pissed myself. I’m blaming my sleep deprived brain and exhausted body for this, but it seemed to me at the time that the best course of action to hide the fact that I peed myself would be to spray some water from my water bottle on my shorts. Soon after, I realized what a mistake this was. My severely chafed inner thighs and testicles were screaming with every step once the were wet again.

At the finish being helped across by my boys!

I continued on to the final and crazy steep descent. It seemed like I could hear cheering from the finish line crowd for several miles. My quads burned and threatened to completely give out as I tried to descend the last stretch with some sense of control. My feet hurt so bad and my quads were so trashed that I was grabbing trees along the trail to help myself brake. Finally, the trail led out to a parking lot where I could see the finish line. I made it to the grassy field and my boys met me shortly before the finish line to run under the blow up arch with me. And there was David Walker (race director) waiting to greet me. He presented me with the finisher’s buckle, which I was most appreciative of. Having now finished two of the races he directs, I can say with confidence that those races were the most orderly and well organized ultras in which I have ever partaken. I can also say that I think he may be a bit of a sadist. At both Worlds End and Eastern States the courses end with a super gnarly and steep descent for your trashed quads to contend with. And at both finish lines he asked me with a huge grin how I liked that final descent. Seriously though, he is an excellent race director and a great guy. From my experience at both races, I watched him stay near the finish line the entire time and congratulate every runner as they finished.

Just after the finish with race director, David Walker.

Having my wife and kids waiting for me at the finish of the toughest race I had ever done which also marked the completion of the PA Triple Crown Series, my primary goal for nearly two years, I thought I may get a bit emotional or teary when it was complete. I mostly just felt relieved that I had hung on for the last 15 miles or so that tested me to finish in tenth place with a time of 27:17:24. I was also super ecstatic about how well the first 85 miles went. This race proved to me that my performance at my first 100 miler wasn’t just a fluke. It got that annoying pessimistic voice to finally shut the hell up. It also reinforced the lesson that I should have learned at Worlds End:  that preventative maintenance of your feet is not an option. Aside from everything that was great about the race and everything that went so well for me, I was also so grateful that this initial family camping trip went so smoothly for my wife while I was out running all night. The kids had a good time outdoors without any YouTube videos or Minecraft, my wife enjoyed having time with them without the distractions, and I got to run a long time and have them waiting for me at the finish. While making the drive back to NJ, we all agreed that it was a trip worth making again. Just the thought of that makes me smile and want to visit Ultrasignup.

Scott Snell

September 20, 2017