2017 Naked Bavarian

A Muddy and Bloody Run With The Naked Bavarian 40 Miler

The 2017 Naked Bavarian 40 miler marked a bit of a milestone in ultrarunning for me. My second crack at the Naked Bavarian 40 miler was my first time to make a second attempt at an ultramarathon course. I’ve always set goals for myself for every ultramarathon, but with the variation in course difficulties and weather conditions my goals have more or less been guesses of what I think I am capable of achieving. This was the first trail race I was attempting where I had solid data on what I was capable of and my goal was to improve on my performance from the previous year. My finishing time from the previous year was 7:13:14 and I believed that if everything went well on race day I could get to the finish in under 7 hours.

 

2016 Finisher Award!

The Naked Bavarian is a young race with 2015 being the inaugural running of it and this year being only the third running of the event. It is advertised and marketed as a low cost, no frills race. I agree with the first part because at 40 miles for $35 (or about $0.88 per mile) it is the most miles I have

2017 Finisher Award!

ever gotten for my money at any event with an entry fee. The second “no frills” part is a bit debatable. While the swag is not overwhelming, I have received a finishers’ award both years I have run it; in 2016 it was a bottle opener and in 2017 it was a mini glass growler. Additionally, the aid stations are frequent (about every 3.5 miles) and well stocked (no gels, but plenty of other standard ultra aid station foods). The Naked Bavarian, along with at least seven other events, is organized and put on by Uberendurancesports  under the guidance of race director Stephen Weiss. I’ve only run three of his events (Naked Bavarian twice and Blues Cruise once, both of which share the same venue and many of the same trails), but all three have left me impressed and wanting to return for another!

 

The 2016 Finisher Award!
 

The Naked Bavarian course is basically a 20 mile lollipop route with the loop at the end of the lollipop being about 7 miles and the beginning and the end of the course being a 6.5 miles out and back. The 20 mile runners do the course once and the 40 mile runners run the entire course twice. It is

Just one beautiful view of the area.

held at The Blue Marsh National Recreation Area which is just northwest of Reading, PA. It really is a beautiful venue for a trail race as many sections of the trail run along the lake edge and cross narrow sections of it at several points. Nearly the entire course is on single track trail with the few exceptions (maybe about a mile worth of the 40 mile course) being instances where you run along a road shoulder to cross a road bridge or connect to another trail. I’ve heard the trails for the course described as “beginning trail runner friendly” in regards to the amount of elevation change and technicality. I’d agree with this description, but they are by no means the easiest trails I’ve run. My Garmin and Strava data reported 3610’ and 3027’ of elevation gain respectively for the 40 mile course. So while the course is not a mountain ultra, it is not a flat course with a couple rolling hills either. In regard to the technicality of the trails, I would say the entirety of the course is runnable with the exception of one steep, rocky climb around the 10 mile mark. The only other item of note I would mention about the trails is the steepness of the cupping on the single track through the open grassy sections. When people say technical I think the most common interpretation is lots of exposed rock and roots, these trails have some of that. After running these trails for the third time, I would add excessive cupping to my list of technical aspects of the trail. It may not sound like much, but when the cupping creates a narrow enough channel with steep enough sides that you have to alter your running form and foot placement it is definitely adding a technical factor.

With a sub 7 hour finish as my one and only goal for the race I was confident I could achieve it with the experience I had gained since the previous year. My running of the 2016 Naked Bavarian 40 miler was the first time I had run over a 50k distance. Since then I had finished a 100 miler and a handful of 50 milers. I had become much better at understanding and anticipating the physical and mental obstacles that arise during ultras. I also understood much better what my body’s nutritional needs were and what kind of calories worked best for me. With this experience and the growing knowledge base, I found that I spent far less time at aid stations with every ultra I ran. Based on this alone, I figured that even if I only matched my running pace at the previous Naked Bavarian I could still bring it to under a 7 hour finish due to increased efficiency at the aid stations. Some people may be scoffing at this and saying “ultras are supposed to be fun, you should enjoy the aid stations and socialize a bit”. To which I reply we all choose to run because we chose to run. The motivation for that choice is yours and yours alone. Some people run to win a race. Some run because their friends run. Some run because their doctor told them to. I can’t simplify my motivation for running to a single reason in this race report, but I can say that my motivation for running this particular race for a second consecutive year was to improve my finishing time by at least 13 minutes and 15 seconds.

Flat Scott ready the night before.

Leading up to the run, everything did not play out as I had hoped. Training went well, but in the month before the race I developed a chest cold and was still feeling some symptoms from it as I readied for the run. I knew I could still achieve my goal even with that setback, it may be just a little less comfortable. It was a cold start for the race with the temperature in the low 20s and the anticipated high was only 35°. In the chilly yet fresh morning air we took off from the start on a mostly overcast and breezy day. I watched the lead pack head out from the start/finish area following a short stretch of road towards the trailhead. Probably less than a half mile later upon reaching the trailhead the leaders were out of sight likely maintaining a sub seven minute per mile pace. I was happy just to have them in sight up til the trailhead as my overall target pace was just over ten minutes per mile. With my target pace in mind, I felt good about the first three miles of singletrack leading to the first short stretch of road shoulder running to the first aid station. Even with some hills, I still managed close to nine minute miles for that first stretch.

After that first aid station, the course returns back to singletrack trail. After a little run through the woods, the trail heads out to some open grassland sections. It was in these sections that the trail cupping was the worst. However, this early in the run it didn’t bother me at all. Even though the lingering chest cold was keeping me from feeling 100%, as I was running I was happy and thankful to be out running on trails away from home that I don’t get to visit on a regular basis. After another three miles or so of single track, the trail turns back out onto a road where you hit the next aid station. This is the point of the course where the lollipop loop starts. From there the course follows the road shoulder across another bridge before turning back onto the singletrack. A few miles later just before the ten mile mark the course hits the largest climb, a gain of about 250’ in about a half mile. I remembered it from last year and pushed through it knowing the toughest part of my first lap was over. I hammered the downhill and was surprised and impressed to find that my time for the mile including the biggest climb was under 12 minutes. This was encouraging for me as I made my way through the remainder of the singletrack leading back to the aid station that marked the end of the lollipop loop. These three and a half miles or so of the course are very runnable being pretty much flat and not at all technical. With the extra motivation as a boost and the easy running terrain, I cranked out some of my fastest miles of the day.

 

Sweet Bibs This Year!

I was feeling great from the climb up until about the 17 mile point. For some reason, I just started feeling exhausted at that point. I had mostly just been drinking Gatorade and eating a few M&Ms at aid stations up to this point. I may have had a bit of Coca-Cola by this point, but I made a note to myself to be sure to drink some at every aid station going forward. I struggled a bit finishing up the last section of my first lap and then headed back out for my second lap feeling somewhat defeated. I was ahead of my target pace, but was hurting bad and feeling spent. I was just hoping to complete my second loop without falling behind my target pace for the day. The temperature had risen a few degrees since the start and the trails that were frozen had thawed for the most part and had become a bit sloppy and slick. This was more intimately impressed upon me a few miles into my second lap when I was coming down a short descent and my left foot flew out from under me. I immediately knew there was no avoiding it and I was going down. I hit the muddy slope and went into a bit of a roll. I bounced back up unharmed and continued on wearing a bit of the trail.

And another beautiful view of the area.

Not too long after my fall, I started noticing some blood in the snot that I was wiping from my nose. This continued for a few miles and I thought it might be a very mild nosebleed. I tried pinching my nostrils for a while to stop it, but no luck. This didn’t help my breathing any either. It was so minor and not getting worse so I soldiered on looking forward to the big climb of the course because I knew that marked the halfway point of the course. After finishing the climb I was excited for the fast, easy miles that followed. Unfortunately, this time through that section they did not seem anywhere near as easy and they were definitely not as fast. I think it was somewhere in this section that I realized that my “nosebleed” wasn’t a nosebleed at all. The edges of my nostrils had just been rubbed raw from my gloves wiping away snot. The little bit of blood seeping from the raw sections was mixing with my snot making my gloves look far bloodier than they were snotty. It was also around this time that I hacked up a monster loogie. As I went to launch it to my side, it had a weak ejection and as the phlegm went airborne it never totally detached from my mouth. The phlegm strand went to the side and floated for a bit until I caught it with my arm and chest. I didn’t care too much at this point (30 some miles in) so I just rubbed it into my muddy jacket with my bloody gloves.

It was during the last ten miles of the run that I probably felt about the crappiest I have ever felt during any run, ultra distances and shorter. Maybe it was because I had been struggling for the last 20 miles or so and during that time I was trying to use the mental trick of bargaining with myself by telling myself how good I’ll feel and what a motivational boost I’ll get knowing I just have to make it back to the start after the halfway point of the second lap. Maybe I had banked on that so much and

promised it to myself so hard that when that boost in motivation never materialized it was far more crushing than if I had just planned on suffering for the remainder of the run. At points, especially in the grassy areas open to the sun, I found myself so tempted to just hop off the trail and lay down and rest for awhile. I really wanted to stop running and just lay down. The grass hummocks looked so comfortable and inviting in the warm sun. I fought the temptations off by thinking about how much more awful I would feel as I was lying there and watching a line of runners that look much fresher than me pass by. Not that I was worried about where I was going to place at the finish, it was just the mental aspect of being passed and how that can affect your motivation to push on. Whether you’re towards the front, in the middle pack, or somewhere at the back, if you already feel like crap watching someone who looks like they’re still on fresh legs pass you and disappear ahead of you on the trail usually doesn’t improve your mental state. At least not for me. Maybe it was because this low surprised me so much that it seemed so bad. I thought this is my second time here; the first time was smooth so this one will be too. Surprise! I got the toughest mental and physical struggle I have ever felt at a race. Another reason this bonk and mental struggle surprised me so much was that I was ahead of my goal pace time the entire run. If I had fallen behind my target pace and my motivation crashed as a result that would be understandable, but that wasn’t the case. I stayed ahead of my target time the entire race; I just felt totally spent doing it. Feeling mentally and physically drained, I willed myself on past the last aid station and to within three miles of the finish.

I finally broke out of the funk I had been in when I could hear the music and smell the food at the start/finish area. I tried to smile for the photographer as I crossed the finish line with a time of 6:54:11. I should have been pumped since I beat my time goal, but as much as I struggled to get through the second half of the race I wasn’t feeling that excited about it. I was just glad it was over

See that smile

and I got through it. Writing the previous paragraph is the deepest I have analyzed the entire experience. As much as it sucked, I am thankful for the experience. It helped reinforce my resolve and determination to not give up even when things aren’t going well. It strengthened my belief that as long as I continue to push myself through hard times, I don’t give up, and I keep making progress towards my goals that they can be achieved. I’ve watched, read, and listened to plenty of videos, race reports, and interviews about terrible bonk stories and mental struggles during ultras. All the while, I wondered why I had never experienced anything as bad as these stories. Well, after two years of ultrarunning and with this most recent ultra experience, I think I can finally relate a bit more with these stories of ultra calamities. Feeling more humbled than I had ever felt at the finish of an ultra, I recovered a bit next to a fire at the finish area. Once my stomach began to feel more settled and my head felt less loopy I grabbed a plate of the post race fare that seems to be the standard at Uberendurancesports events:  German bratswurst with sauerkraut. It tasted like success and it was delicious!

Scott Snell
March 26, 2017

 

Beginnings And Ends: An Introspective Long Run

 

My wife and I recently celebrated our oldest son’s fifth birthday. During the celebration with friends and family, we received the news that a very close friend of the family, practically part of the extended family, had just passed away after what seemed to our knowledge to be a relatively short battle with cancer. The following day I got in my final long training run before going into taper mode for my first ultra of the year. I usually do a lot of thinking and become pretty introspective during my long runs regardless, but given the dichotomy of the situation at the party the previous day it was hard to think about anything else. A young boy continues to grow and mature so quickly that I have trouble comprehending when all these changes occurred and how five years have swept by us leaving so little of a trace. At the same time a member of our family whom we only found out was diagnosed with cancer a matter of a few months earlier passes on from this life. I’m not trying to come off as macabre or depressing, but these thoughts of beginnings, ends, and the quick and precious time we have on this planet between the two are what dominated the majority my 25 mile run.

 

When I ran a hundred mile trail race towards the end of 2016 I wore a cancer awareness bracelet. Specifically, an orange one for Leukemia & Kidney Cancer. I wasn’t wearing it because I was running for a cause or to raise funds or awareness of the disease. I readily admit that my main motivation for wearing it was out of self interest. My thinking was that if I hit a low point during the race or had a long stretch of feeling like crap I would use the bracelet to remind me of how fortunate I have been with my health. I would use it to remind me that my health is never guaranteed and that I could become sick with no warning at any time. I would use it to remind me of the struggles I watched several friends and family members go through in their battles with different forms of cancer and other illnesses. I would use it to remind me of the pain they experienced and the physical condition some of them were in where getting out of a hospital bed wasn’t even an option. Recalling these memories and reliving the painful ordeals in my mind would remind me that there is no better time than now to do what I am doing. They would remind me that I may not have another opportunity to “run another day” as so many people like to say. They would remind me that no matter how bad I feel, how tired I am, how sore I am, and how much it hurts, what I am experiencing is nothing compared to what they went through. It is cake compared to their struggle; it’s a frickin’ birthday party at every aid station. I have the choice at any point to say “I quit” and walk away from the pain and the struggle. They never had that option. You could argue that and say they did have a choice of treatment options and hospice at a point, but the basic choice is fight or die. Even if the former is chosen, often the fight is the more painful option and still leads to the latter. So it’s not really much of a choice.

 

 

 

I may be coming off as self centered, negative, and depressing, but I like to think of myself as pragmatic. Am I using my memories of loved ones for my personal benefit? In a way yes, but I am remembering them nonetheless. If I said I was running the race in memory of them, does that then make it a selfless act of love? Regardless of the ethics, I did feel a bit more motivation and confidence by wearing the bracelet. Maybe it’s part of the reason why I never felt like I crashed or hit a really low point for the entire hundred miler. Or maybe it was just coincidence and I just had a good day. Either way, I plan to wear it for future long ultras. I also plan to continue to use the memories of my loved ones for motivation and to remind me of how precious of a gift our time here is and how grateful I am for all the experiences on this journey.

 

Scott Snell

March 11, 2017 










 

How to Turn a Routine Run Into a Marshmello Run

It wasn't an amazing run for the distance or difficulty,

but it did inspire the above meme and this blog post...

So this weekend started like most others: cooking breakfast for the kids, my wife is prepping for work, playing with the kids (Hot Wheels, Nerf gun wars, and Lego building), and I’m thinking about when I will be able to get out to get some miles in. My wife is working a split shift today, so I know I have a small window when running is even an opportunity. Call it serendipity, call it fate, call it whatever you want but at some point this morning Marshmello turned what I had expected to be a standard neighborhood road run into something more memorable (and worth writing a blog post about).

Recently my two and four year old sons have taken to watching Marshmello videos on youtube. I had noticed them watching these videos once before this morning, but didn’t give it much attention. Today, however, I ended up watching several videos for entire songs with my two year old. At some point during this time, I started thinking to myself that these videos are entertaining and this music is pretty good and could be pretty awesome to run with. Well, with that thought I decided I would take Marshmello with me to liven up my standard neighborhood running route I had planned to get in during the break between my wife’s work shifts. In some sense, it made it a new and fresh experience.

Here is one of my top favorites from Marshmello, "Summer".

Let me backup a quick second here. Marshmello is an electronic dance music producer and DJ. He definitely doesn’t specialize in my standard style of music that I listen to running or not. Anyhow, even though I usually don’t run with music altogether, I decided while watching these videos with my two year old son that I was going to listen to this music during my run today. Even stranger was the fact that as I was getting my stuff together and tying up my Altras with the Marshmello videos playing in the background my wife commented to me about how it would make pretty good music to run to!?! “Weird, I thought the same thing”, I said as I was just finishing setting up the Marshmello playlist on Spotify.

Here is another one of my top choices, "Alone".

With that, I was out the door and embarking on my first ever run synced to electronic dance music. For the most part, I am not a super emotional person. I tend to hide my emotions more readily than put them on display for all to see. Furthermore, I don’t buy into much spiritual stuff about “sending good vibes” and feeling people’s energy, not that I don’t see the value of support from others or self confidence. However, even with my rather cynical mindset I found this run to be more emotionally charged and filled with more out of the ordinary thoughts than my standard run of the same route. 

It started off like most other runs along my standard neighborhood route; the sidewalk and road cracks here and there, the resident turkey there. Maybe there was a bit more “pep in my step” due to the fast tempo in my earbuds that I wasn’t accustomed to, but otherwise it felt like a standard run. It wasn't until about five miles, the halfway point of my run, that I started feeling that this music was altering my thoughts and emotions during my run. I began thinking about appreciating our surroundings. Since I prefer trail running over road running, the fact that this thought popped in my head during my standard neighborhood road run route surprised me.

I looked at the houses and appreciated the architecture and the work that went into the design of them. How can one say that architecture isn’t an art in itself? For that matter, what about the landscaping? I appreciated the materials that went into the building of those homes: the years and labor hours that were spent on the research, development, and production of those materials. I thought about the chemists that were involved in the development of the paints, siding, shingles, and insulation in every home on the street I was running along. I admired the structural and environmental engineers that designed and finalized all of the minute details of the working parts of the home and macro impacts of the development itself. I thought of the foresters and mill workers that made the lumber and the drivers that transported those materials from the forest to the mill to the building sites. I thought of the landscape architects that designed the layouts of the yards with the trees and shrubs. That led me to appreciate the nurseries and their employees that produced the plants. Additionally, it led to the appreciation of the landscape companies and their workers for installing the shrubs, trees, and turf.

That last paragraph may sound like nothing but an unadulterated praise of capitalism, but it is in fact just my reiteration of thoughts during this run of my recognition of the worth of individuals’ contributions to a shared project. Whether it had been building homes, growing corn, or launching a satellite into orbit; I believe that in my state of mind I would have seen the beauty in the orchestration of any of them and appreciated them all equally. Basically, the point of this entire writing is to encourage the appreciation of your surroundings.
I’ll be the first to admit that I usually don’t appreciate my environment when I do my standard neighborhood runs. I typically view it as a convenient way to get some miles in. After this morning’s run though, I appreciated my standard running route in a way that I had not before. It really opened my eyes to how much a run can be influenced by altering one small aspect of it, such as auditory input. It amazed me that I had not been so aware of this fact earlier. I’ve run the same routes multiple times many times with mixed results. Sometimes it’s the weather that changes or just my attitude. Sometimes I’m too hungry or my stomach feels too full. Whatever the variable is that you choose, there is some impact from said variable on how your run turns out. The key is to realize that YOUR run is being impacted by these inputs. Once this is realized and accepted, one can run through and minimize the impacts of perceived negative inputs on their running regime. Additionally, one can breathe new life into old and boring running routines. Change your music, add music, run hungry, run full, run topless, push a stuffed armadillo in a stroller. The point is to change up your routine if the routine of it has begun to impact your motivation. It isn’t the activity of running that has become boring or routine to you, it is your perception of it.

Scott Snell
January 15, 2017

2016 Batona 50 Race Report

The Batona 50 is point to point race with 53.4 mile and 50k options. The course follows the path of The Batona Trail. The trail derives its name similar to but not exactly in the format of an acronym: BAck TO NAture. It makes its way through the NJ Pinelands National Reserve from the north end at Ong’s Hat in Brendan T. Byrne State forest to the southern end at Lake Absegami in Bass River State Forest. Along the way it takes you on a tour through the heart of Wharton State Forest passing Batsto Village and numerous campgrounds.The trail is pretty typical of South Jersey trails in that it is a reflection of the common sandy soils of the coastal plains, resulting in high sand content and sandy trails. The second common feature of trails in Southern NJ and the landscape in general is a lack of elevation change. The Batona Trail shares the nearly total absence of climbs and descents with the rest of the landscape in the region with only 530’ of elevation gain recorded by my Garmin for the entirety of the trail. 

Elevation Profile

The Batona 50 event is organized as a “fat ass” event. Typically, “fat ass” events have no frills, no fee, no aid, no schwag, and no course markings; making them more or less a large group run. However, the organizers of the Batona 50 have gone beyond what I would consider to be the standard definition of a “fat ass” event. While there are no course markings, the trail is pretty well marked already by trail blazes so there really isn’t any need for additional markings. As for frills, there was no schwag for registering or finishers’ medals, but they did offer the option to purchase a

pretty nice looking long sleeve shirt. There was no registration fee, but the organizers did ask that in lieu of the fee that participants consider donating to the Pinelands Preservation Alliance or NJ Conservation Foundation. It was in the aid department where the event really went beyond my expectations from a “fat ass” event. The course had six planned aid stations along the 50+ mile distance, four of which doubled as aid for the 50k distance. A surprise aid station popped up during the event for the 50+ mile distance between aid stations on the second half of the course where they were about 10 miles apart. All of the aid stations were stocked with standard fuel and hydration donated by the runners and the amazing group of volunteers manning them. And heck, they even offered the option of transporting a drop bag to any of the aid stations for you!

This was my last ultra for the year and with it taking place only four weeks after finishing my first 100 miler, I was really questioning how hard I wanted to push myself while running it. I didn’t train much between the two events. I did some easy medium to short recovery runs following the 100 miler, one long (25 mile) training run, and some mid to short runs during a taper leading up to the 50 miler. In total, I ran about 75 miles in the four weeks between the two races. I was really banking on the fitness and endurance from the 100 mile training to carry over and get me through the race, which is a strategy I have never used and did not trust. Additionally, I was trying to comfort myself with the fact that the course was super flat and therefore the 50 miles would seem “easy”. All the while I knew that while one 50 miler may be “easy” relative to another 50 miler, running 50 miles is never “easy” and I knew that at some point during the run I would most likely be hurting and in pain. With these trepidations leading up to the event, I was telling myself that my plan was to go out at comfortable pace and maintain that for the entirety of the run. I stuck to that plan up until the race started.

I stood in the crowd while the race director made some brief announcements. Then with the start of the race imminent, a strange thing happened. All of the other runners towards the front of the crowd started shuffling backwards in small, barely noticeable increments. Without moving, myself and about four other runners were all at the front of the starting line and with that the race began. Three of the other runners that took off first had actually intended to be there. The one immediately in front of me, however, had apparently ended up there inadvertently due to the pre start backwards shuffle and hopped off to the side of the trail to let me pass after maybe 100 yards from the start.

The start of the race was 7 AM so the sun was just starting to rise and it was still a little tough to see the trail and blazes without a headlamp. My plan, or lack thereof, was to run with someone else with a headlamp for the first half hour or so until the headlamp would be completely unnecessary. I was going out at what felt like a pretty comfortable pace for me, but no headlamps were nearby behind me and one was not too far ahead. I figured I’d pick up my pace a bit to catch the pair of runners, one of whom had a headlamp, in front of me. I told myself that even though it was a little faster (around 8:30 miles) than I had intended to go out, it would be less than a half hour until it would be light enough that I would be completely comfortable running without any lighting.

After just a few miles with the two runners, it was daylight and one other runner that had sped up from the starting pack had joined up with us. With a little conversation between the four of us the miles started to click off and we were at the first aid station. We all passed through quickly (less than a minute) and continued on. And just like that, I scrapped my whole plan of taking it easy and decided to see if I could keep pace with these guys who were the lead pack with the exception of the front runner who was running a blazing pace and set a new course record of 7:11:00. As much as I had told myself that this is my last ultra for the year, I haven’t trained enough or recovered long enough from the 100 miler, and I should take it easy and just focus on finishing and enjoying it, I couldn’t convince myself to execute that plan. For me anyway, the attraction of ultras is to truly test yourself and find out what you are capable of. The way I see it, if you aren’t pushing yourself, you won’t find out.

One of the stretches of narrow boards.

Even though I was pushing harder than I had intended and in a bit of pain, I was still enjoying the run. The first couple hours were a bit chilly, mid 30s, but once it warmed up a bit it was perfect running weather. It may have been a bit past the time for peak fall colors as the sassafras and the sweetgum trees had nearly dropped all of their leaves, but many of the oaks still displayed the majority of their leaves ranging from green tinted with yellows to brilliant reds and earthy browns. Though the most stunning colors belonged to the blueberry shrubs that dominate much of the understory of the Pinelands. Running through the seemingly endless sea of fiery red was a reward in itself. Nearly every footfall was cushioned by a bed of oak leaves and pitch pine needles along the sandy trail. While much of the scenery along the Batona trail is consistent, it does offer some variety passing by several lakes and long abandoned cranberry bogs. Additionally, for some stretches it follows forest streams and passes through several low lying swampy areas where the trail weaves its way between the thick stands of Atlantic white cedars on treacherous looking narrow boards.

Between enjoying the scenery and the off and on conversations within our pack, we were a little over

Fall colors.

20 miles into the run before I even realized it or thought about changing my pace. It was around this point that one runner from our group picked up his pace and for the next few miles I could just barely catch a glimpse of his orange jacket in the distance every few minutes. Not long after that another from our pack picked up his pace as well and the one runner remaining with me slowed his pace. I ran alone for a good stretch of the trail after that and maintained just a slightly slower pace (just under 9 minute miles) than I had when running with the group until I started feeling some rumbling in my bowels. After assessing the situation for awhile, it became clear that I was going to have to resolve the issue soon. I didn’t want to waste much time by going too far off trail, but I also did not want to perform a public demonstration of how to wipe your ass with leaf litter and pine needles. My main worry was that I had no clue how far back the next runner was. I waited until the next side trail crossed the course and went just a little way down that trail and hopped off the trail behind some shrubs thinking “this side trail won’t have any traffic”. Well, one of the pre race announcements was to be very mindful and on the lookout for trail blazes because there are many cross trails and fire roads making it easy to go off course without realizing it. I had noticed this during the race as well as how often times along the trail there are braided sections that separate then quickly rejoin to a single trail. It turned out that this “cross trail” that I hopped off of was actually just a braided section of the Batona trail. I realized this shortly after taking care of business and going just a few paces down the trail to find the paths reconnected. Thankfully, there was enough of a gap between me and the next runner that my privacy was not disturbed.

With that catastrophe avoided, I continued on in good spirits. Soon after, I passed the 50k mark and checked my watch to realize I had just run my fastest 50k, bettering it by about 13 minutes. Even though my previous 50k best was on a tougher course (Blues Cruise) with far more elevation change, it was still a bit of a boost for my morale and encouraged me to continue to push as best I could for the remaining 20 miles or so. I was feeling a bit tired by this point so it really did help me out mentally. Although I was telling myself that I didn’t have a target time for this race, I was really hoping to keep it under a 10 minute per mile average. With that pace, I would improve my 50 mile time. I pushed on sustaining around a 9:30 per mile pace until around mile 40 when I caught sight of one of the two runners I had been with earlier that had picked up his pace. It was his first race greater than a 50k distance and it looked like the miles were beginning to take a toll on him. We rolled into the final aid station at about the 43 mile mark together.

I was feeling pretty tired by this point, but the excitement of running a faster time than I had hoped for and knowing that I could be at the finish within a couple hours had me pumped and ready to push on and wrap this thing up. After refilling my bottle and downing some bacon, a banana, and some coke I was ready to move out. I looked over at my running mate to realize that he did not look as excited or as pumped as I was to finish this run. A chair was set up just a few steps from the aid station table and one of the volunteers pointed it out and mentioned it to the guy I had been running with. I felt it was my duty at this point to tell him not to even think about sitting down. I told him to not even look at that chair, it’s only another ten miles until you’ll be back at your car and can sit down there. With that we headed out from the aid station and pushed on.

The next few miles passed quickly with the company and the boost of the caffeine and sugar from the coke. Then we found ourselves on a fire road and there was no sign of the familiar pink blazes we had been following on the trail all day. We turned back following the road until we found a faint pink blaze. Thinking that this confirmed we were still on the trail, we doubled back and continued on the road until it came out to a larger road crossing we had already crossed from the opposite direction not too long before the blazes had quit appearing. We saw the trail nearby where we had

crossed earlier and knew for certain that we had made a wrong turn. We got back on the trail, running a section we had already run, a little frustrated that we had probably just added about an extra one mile loop to the final stretch of the course. We got back to the point where we made the wrong turn and I immediately realized how we had both messed it up. What looked like an arrow pointing left where the trail met the fire road was actually an arrow directing hikers from the opposite direction onto the trail we had just come from. If either of us had looked to the right at that point we would have seen that the trail was clearly blazed in that direction. Clearly both of us were feeling the effects of the miles that we had logged already. Thankfully, that was the only wrong turn we made.

We continued on together until about 5 miles from the finish when my trail companion decided to slow down to take a gel and walk for a bit. I think his stomach was bothering him a bit as he had mentioned that he hoped the coke would help settle it shortly after leaving the last aid station. I’m guessing that he wanted to let the gel settle a little before continuing with the gyrations from the pounding of running. He told me not to wait for him, but I felt kinda bad about continuing on ahead of him so close to the finish when we had run the better part of the entire trail together. However, at that point I could practically smell the finish and was running out of motivation. I just wanted to be done as soon as possible. I just gave him a nod and continued on. My brain was feeling kinda fried at the time and in my mind it was a very encouraging nod that said “Stay strong, keep up the pace and finish strong!”. Looking back, I doubt it conveyed that entire message to him.

Lake Absegami at the south end of the trail.

For the last few miles I tried to run the tank dry, but there wasn’t a whole lot left. I was digging deep in an attempt to eek out one more sub 9 mile, but the closest I could get was a 9:15. I crossed the finish with a time of 8:40:45 which I was pretty impressed by since my time goal that I was saying I

Finished!

didn’t have was 10 hours. I am so thankful that I fell in with the group that I did from the start or else I don’t think I would have pushed myself to the same degree. To me, that really sums up what these ultra events are all about:  the eloquent intermixing of camaraderie and competition that drives everyone to be the best version of themselves.

Scott Snell
November 10, 2016

2016 TARC 100 Race Report

TARC 100 Race Report

How I Broke Two Ultrarunning Commandments and Succeeded

First lap and feeling fine!

The TARC (Trail Animals Running Club) 100 is a hundred mile race which takes place in Westwood, MA, about a 20 minute drive from downtown Boston. In fact, the Boston skyline is visible, weather permitting, from one point on the course. The 2016 running of the TARC 100 was the fourth running of the event and will unfortunately be the final running of it for the foreseeable future due to a number of reasons. From the few TARC members I heard from about putting the TARC 100 on hold, the main reason that seemed to be repeated was that a TARC member had past and the club felt stretched thin between TARC 100 and all the other races they put on. With it possibly being the final running of a race being put on by a club that already felt stretched thin, one might expect a subpar performance for overall race event coordination. The TARC 100 race director, Josh Katzman, and the TARC crew had quite the contrary in mind with an amazingly well organized event that was run smoothly and exceeded all expectations.

The course was amazingly well marked with flagging and signs both with reflective tape so they were easy to see when a headlamp was needed; it would have been difficult to get lost or go off course unless you were in a seriously foggy state of mind (or you head out fast and miss the first turn, that will be explained later). All aid stations were well stocked with everything you would expect and manned by super helpful and friendly volunteers. Additionally, the course route and the spacing of the aid stations was proof that a significant amount of time and effort was put into getting them right. The course is a 25 mile loop of primarily single track trail. There is one short section, probably less than a couple hundred feet, of the course where there is two way traffic. Other than that, there is no repeated trail during each loop. I’d estimate that the course is easily over 90% trail with the remainder being made up of short stretches along gravel and a few paved roads. It was somewhat technical, some sections more so than others, with a decent amount of exposed roots and rocky sections. There is also a fair amount of elevation change with about 2,500 feet of gain during each lap for a total of 10,000 feet of elevation gain. Not a crazy amount of gain, but definitely not flat either.

Lacing up my Altra Lone Peaks
 for the start!

I registered for this 100 miler more or less to overcome my fear of the 100 mile distance. My goal for 2017 is to complete the PA Triple Crown Series:  Hyner 50k, World's End 100k, and Eastern States 100 miler. Up until finishing the TARC 100 I felt confident about everything in the Triple Crown Series other than the 100 miler. Wrapping my head around covering 100 miles was something I was struggling with so I figured if I want to have any confidence next year in finishing the series, what better way than to just get a hundred miler out of the way this year and prove to myself that it is a doable distance. So, with having done a 40 and two 50 milers already this year, I registered for the TARC 100 about a month before the race. I basically viewed all of my training runs and the 50 milers as training runs building up to the 100 miler.

With it being my first shot at a 100 miler and not being familiar with the course, it was tough to decide what an achievable yet challenging goal would be other than just finishing. I figured 24 hours is kinda the standard time goal for a 100 miler that isn’t ridiculously technical or that has some other feature that would really cost you time, so that became my A goal with finishing before the 32 hour cutoff being my B goal. After my final long training runs of back to back 30 and 20 milers, I was feeling extremely confident going into my three week taper. I even feared that I was dangerously overconfident and I was going into this with way too much optimism and that quite everything I hoped this journey to be could very well come crashing down and destroy me around 70 miles in. Thankfully, that bout of overconfidence passed a few days before the race and I was filled with a more extreme version of the nervous excitement that I am accustomed to before a race.

My basic race strategy went against several of the ultrarunning commandments I have heard stressed time after time on podcasts and in race reports:  don’t go out too fast and don’t try anything on race day that you haven’t practiced on your long runs. I broke both of these to a certain degree. I planned on running the first half faster than the second half for two reasons:  I’d have fresh legs and wouldn’t feel as tired during the first 50 (novicely planning on banking time for the second half) and that I had not done much trail running after dark so I thought even if I am still feeling strong after dark, my pace was still going to suffer due to my inexperience of running trails with a headlamp (breaking two commandments in your overall race strategy, maybe not a good idea for your first 100?).  I further broke the “do nothing you haven’t practiced on long runs” commandment with nutrition/hydration. I had used and was comfortable with everything offered at the aid stations, but decided to bring a couple untested items that I’ve heard raved about on a few occasions. Those items being coconut water and Starbucks frappuccinos, neither of which really caused any problems.


Towards the end of loop #1.

The first 25 mile loop went well and was for the most part uneventful. I started middle of the pack and followed the people in front of me. Probably less than 50 yards from the start, I hear from right behind me, “you’re going the wrong way!”. It turned out the leaders missed an early turn, possibly the first one, before even getting on the trail. Thankfully it was a mistake caught early, but it made for a lot of passing early on as the lead pack attempted to get back to the lead. Other than this, the first lap was smooth and right on my target pace (12 to 14 minute miles). I was eating and drinking at every aid station as planned and was back to the start/finish area in about five hours.

The second loop deviated a little from my plan, mainly because of some chatting I did with another runner. Not that I didn’t talk with anyone during the first loop, but shortly after meeting this runner, Dima was his name, and chatting with him a bit, I found out there were only about five or six runners in front of us. I had no idea until this point how far I had moved up with respect to placement. I had no place goals going into the race, only the 24 hour finish goal which I thought would likely put me into the top 10 if it worked out. Finding out this early on I was already in the top 10 was really unexpected. I also learned that Dima had finished about 13 or so 100 milers and a few 200 milers. With this conversation, I began to think that my newbie overconfidence of the 100 mile distance might wreck my second half. Dima was way more experienced than me and good company so I decided to match his pace for a while. After about 10 miles of running together we were probably still averaging around 14 or 15 minute miles, but I found myself getting angry and frustrated that I wasn’t banking the time in daylight like I had during my first loop. I decided that whether my legs blew up or not due to my plan, I did not want to run angry or frustrated and parted ways with Dima as I picked up my pace to the higher but comfortable effort level I had maintained earlier. I finished the second loop at about the 10.5 hour mark, just a few hours before dark as planned.

Going into my third loop and the unchartered distance of over 50 miles I still felt good and my legs felt like I could push them if needed. I believe I was in fifth place at this time as I passed another runner shortly after parting with Dima. I wanted to maintain the pace from my first 50 miles until the sunset during my third lap. I was able to do this for what seemed much less painful than I had expected until the 10 mile aid station. At that aid station my wife was going to join me to pace me for the remainder of the loop. It was really last minute plans as my wife wasn’t even planning on coming with me to the race until maybe a couple weeks before it. I really had been planning on going solo and not using a pacer, but it was tough to turn down the offer after she had arranged to be there to support me. So after a short stop at the aid station we headed out with our headlamps on as it had quickly gone from sunset to darkness. Surprisingly for both of us, my pace did not slow down a great deal running in the dark. It changed so little that my wife had problems keeping up which was a bit frustrating for me. I’m not saying this to take anything away from my wife or to brag, because she is a good runner, but she is a very apprehensive trail runner even in the daylight. I think the mediocre at best headlamp and technical terrain were the two things really slowing her down. Anyhow, after a couple miles she yelled to me to just go on without her. It was kinda bittersweet as I wanted to run with her, but I didn’t want to have to sacrifice my pace for it. I came into the next aid station (around mile 15 on the loop) at the same time as another runner. I was pretty surprised when the aid station captain announced that we were the third and fourth place runners. I had passed other runners since the last aid station, but I had assumed they were all 100k distance runners. I passed through quickly and continued on feeling good physically for the remainder of the loop. Mentally, however, I was a little worried about both the pressure of knowing the fourth place runner was right behind me and the fact that I had left my wife a few miles back. Maybe it was that or maybe it was just the adrenaline I had flowing that helped me maintain my pace until the finish of the loop when I was able to see her again at the start/finish area and know that she had made it back safe. It turned out she was able to catch a ride back from the next aid station, just a couple miles from where I had left her. That was a bit of relief and peace for me before heading out for my final lap.

I started the final lap with the goal of doing everything I could to maintain my pace until the finish. I left the start/finish area the final time at about the 16 hour mark giving me ample time to meet my 24 hour goal. Although I hadn't gone into the race with any goals of placing, after being in third for about ten miles hanging on to that position had become a goal. Physically I was still comfortable, but mentally I was worrying about other runners who may have been waiting until the final lap to really push. I went through about 13 miles of the loop with nothing but those thoughts circling through my head (other than singing the Finding Dory song that I hear my son sing sometimes to myself, “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming”, only I change the “swimming” to “running”). About that time I passed a couple of 100k runners who informed that second place was just a few minutes ahead of me. Over the next two miles to the next aid station I passed about three runners. I wasn’t sure if any of them were the second place 100 mile runner until I reached the aid station to find out I was in second place. It was at that point that for the first time during the race I asked how much farther I had to go until the finish. My gps had been getting farther and farther off

After a nap and a change of clothes.

with every loop, my thinking was a little scattered by this point, and although I had an approximate idea of the spacing, I never knew the exact distances of the aid stations throughout the course. Maybe it was the mental game of knowing how close to the finish I was, but shortly after leaving the aid station I began feeling more pain than I had all day. Primarily in the lower shins just above the ankles which took me by surprise because I normally never have pain in that area and have only had shin splints once before nearly 10 years ago. I figured that a bit of pain during the last 10 miles of a 100 miler is probably pretty normal, so I accepted it and continued on as best I could. I made my final pass through the final aid station and pushed myself through the final tough stretch of the loop that the TARC crew lovingly refer to as “The Grinder”. I guess it gets this name due to how technical it is with lots of exposed rock (which had become pretty slick from the drizzle that had started in the last few hours) and how windy the trail feels through that section. It was just very difficult to maintain any pace or feel any flow when constantly rock hopping and turning. It was pretty amazing how much more difficult it had become the fourth time through compared to the first time when my fresh legs told me it was nearly all runnable. I was grateful to get through without eating it and push with anything I had left for the last mile or so of the course which was pretty easy terrain. When I saw the Christmas lights of the finish area it was a beautiful sight. The only thing that topped it was seeing my 22:02:00 finishing time and being handed a shiny buckle shortly after.

All things considered, I couldn’t have been happier with the outcome. I proved to myself that the 100 miler is achievable. I had a plan (even if it did go against some fundamentals) and for the most part stuck to it. My goal was to get it in under 24 hours or blow up trying to. My inspiration for the all or nothing mindset of that goal really came from watching irunfar’s post UTMB interview of Zach Miller multiple times. The passion, perseverance, desire, disappointment, and heartache was all on full display during that interview. As inspired as I was by that interview, it also haunted me for the last lap. During the interview Zach talks about how things had gone so well for so long until he started bonking with somewhere around 15-20 miles to go. As I was approaching the 80, 85, and 90 mile marks I was almost waiting for things to fall apart. Thankfully, they never really did and the wheels never really came off.

The Buckle!

Scott Snell

October 19, 2016