Showing posts with label shoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shoes. Show all posts

Thursday, September 21, 2017

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

Monday, August 21, 2017

2017 Worlds End 100K

2017 Worlds End 100K

Running A Tough 100k The Day Before A Wedding Is The
Greatest Excuse For Being A Crappy Dancer.

Panoramic of the view from aid station 5 - Canyon Vista (22.2 miles).

“It’s OKAY to be scared. Being scared means you’re about to do something really, really brave.”

-Mandy Hale

As I begin writing this report I have just wrapped up running back to back 25 mile training runs which will be my last long training weekend before Eastern States 100 which is now less than three weeks away. During these back to back long runs I had plenty of time to relive and analyze my day at the Worlds End 100k. It wasn’t a perfect day, but it was by no means a bad day either. I had some low points and there was plenty of room for improvement, but I managed and dealt with the tougher times to experience some high points throughout the day as well. The high points were positives for me, but the greatest and most valuable positive for me from my day at Worlds End was what I’ve learned from struggling through the low points that tested me. You see, Worlds End was only the second race I’ve done of over 50 miles so although I’m somewhat inexperienced in ultrarunning in general, I’m extremely inexperienced in running the longer distance ultras. Thankfully or not (I’m not sure if I should be grateful for this), the main cause of the majority of my challenges throughout the day were self imposed and largely due to just poor planning on my part. Hopefully, I will apply what I’ve learned from my mistakes when it comes time to run Eastern States 100 as repeating them there may lead to greater consequences and ultimately a DNF as problems that begin within a 100k distance could very well intensify and worsen if they happen during a hundred miler. Not to mention that even on a good day Eastern States is not an “easy” hundred miler as it has an overall finish rate of around 30 percent in it’s three years of existence.

A welcoming sign at the start/finish area.

Worlds End Ultramarathon offers 50k and 100k distances. I chose to run the 100k as that is the second race of the PA Triple Crown Series and successfully completing the series is my ultrarunning goal for 2017. I feel that the best way to describe Worlds End is simple and only requires one word:  relentless. This is how another runner described the course to me early in the day and as the day went on and I covered a greater and greater distance, the closer to perfection that word became. Just look at the elevation profile and I think you’ll agree that “relentless” is a great descriptor. The technicality of the course hits you early and never lets up. They call it Rocksylvania for a reason. Stream crossings? Check. Maybe not all years, but at least this year many sections that at first glance looked completely and easily runnable were anything but due to the ground being so wet that my feet sank into the shoe sucking muck. For all of these challenges I was accepting; my greatest challenges during the race were not due to external factors such as weather or trail conditions. My greatest hurdles during Worlds End were of my own doing, primarily due to poor planning or a total lack of planning.

Copied from Words End Ultramarathon website:

I’m going to start with what I believe may be an often overlooked challenge due to the fact that it is for the most part not apparent to anyone but the runner himself or herself. It may be displayed in their body language, but if so it may be masked well or at least not obvious to anyone else. It is a lack of confidence or an overly anxious feeling going into a race. It is a fear that you didn’t train enough or train well enough. It results in thoughts of insecurity and mental orchestrations of countless scenarios of a day ending in a grand failure. In brief, it is a poor mental state to face a challenge. And I believe that’s where I was leading up to Worlds End, which is quite a challenging event.

A view of Loyalsock Creek near the start/finish area.

Thankfully, I believe I know how I ended up there and I was able to work through it with minimal impacts affecting my race. I believe the cause of my excessive anxiety was due to my divergent outlooks going into my previous two races (NJ Ultra Trail Festival and Hyner View Trail Challenge 50k) and my overall mental state during those two races. Going into NJ Ultra Fest I was very confident. With hindsight I would say I was overconfident. Then, to put it plainly, I had what felt like a crap run. That’s the short version. If you want all the details you can check out the full race report. Following what I felt like was a crap run I went into the Hyner much less confident. I had low expectations and set goals for myself that I thought I probably would not reach. I then ended up having a nearly perfect day and exceeding all of my goals. So high expectations and solid confidence led to missed goals while low self confidence and planning on failure led to over achieving. This was my mindset going into Worlds End. Do I fake self confidence and envision success as I always hear people say you should do or do what actually worked last time:  lower expectations and expect failure? I struggled going back and forth leading up to Worlds End and never came to a decision. I only made myself overly anxious, stressed, and uncertain. This is not how you want to feel starting your second longest intended run ever. I was shaky pinning my bib to my shorts and continued to shake at the starting line. It was dark at the start and I hadn’t done much night running so that added to the uneasy feelings. It was raining lightly making all of the exposed rock on the technical trail extra slick. The guy right in front of me was moving at a pace that I didn’t feel a need to pass, but his feet were sliding around so much and he nearly crashed so many times right in front of me that I was nervous for him. All of this added to the anxiety which I struggled through for the first 10 to 15 miles of the run. I would say it wasn’t until aid station four (19.3 miles) that the anxious feelings had completely subsided and I finally felt like I had settled into a good pace and bearable mindset for the day.

A little extra motivation from the Canyon Vista aid station.

After leaving aid station 4 and over the next 20 miles or so were the golden miles of the day for me. My head had finally calmed and I continued to feel good with a decent portion of the distance behind me. I began to push a bit harder on the climbs and hammer the not as technical downhills and my quads continued to respond and hold up to the abuse. I covered the majority of this middle section of the course with a couple other runners at what I would call a slightly faster than conversational pace. We could chat with one another, but it wasn’t always comfortable due to the pace. During this stretch we had several stream crossings and ran through many mucky sections of trail. It was the kind of muck where if you step in the wrong spot your shoe will sink ankle deep and your foot will feel wet and grainy after removal. Earlier this would have worried me, but not now. I had just run my last two 50ks with soaked feet and little to no foot problems to show afterwards. We had intermittent conversations between the three of us as we covered some decent miles while we played leapfrog for several hours. For the most part, the three of us followed this pattern until aid station 8 (41.6 miles). Not long after this, my day began to go downhill, but only figuratively as there were still plenty of literal climbs remaining on the course.

Not exactly on the course, but right behind the Canyon Vista aid station. I stopped in to check it out the day after the race and it was definitely worth the time. 

The cause of the downward spiral that would begin was no one’s fault but my own. Yes, I could point some fingers to disperse some of the blame, but if I had simply done a bit more preparation before race day and had a better plan in place the bonk and mental low points I was about to experience likely would have been completely avoided. The underlying cause of the problem was poor planning and an altogether lack of planning. This led to me going through a bit of a bonk which, to make matters worse, coincided with two water only aid stations. To begin with, the main cause of the bonk was my overall nutrition plan. I had decided against my better judgement that I would simply do the same thing I had done at the Hyner 50k that had worked so well for me: drink lots of tailwind, eat a gel at the aid station, and eat a gel between aid stations. I had finished Hyner feeling like I still had some gas in the tank doing this, so I decided I would just do the same thing for twice as long at Worlds End. In all honesty I never truly believed I would maintain this nutrition plan for a 100k, but sold it to myself by convincing myself there was a slim chance it would work and if it did I would have an amazing day just like at the Hyner. It didn’t and I bonked hard several times from around mile 41 to mile 58.

Arriving at High Knob aid station (mile 35.8).
Photo credit:  Tania Lezak (

A poor and unrealistic nutrition plan was mistake one. Mistake two was not doing my homework. I mentioned a bit earlier that my bonk coincided with two water only aid stations. This is where doing a bit of planning in advance such as knowing how far apart between aid stations and which ones are water only would have been extremely useful. In my attempt to combat my pre race anxiety and be relaxed and carefree about this race I had done almost no planning. I had no drop bags, crew, or pacers. I hadn’t even examined the aid station guide close enough to realize that there were any water only aid stations. All I knew for certain was that this was going to be the hardest course I had ever run and the second longest distance I had ever attempted. I’m not trying to make excuses here, just stating facts. All of the race information was published and on the Worlds End Ultra website for anyone to see. I just didn’t look. And so as it happened as I was bonking and as I realized I was bonking I passed through a water only aid station, aid station 9 (45.4 miles), not knowing how far until the next aid station where I could get some calories in me. At this point I was over 10 hours in consuming primarily only Tailwind and gels. My stomach was rumbling for some real food and the rest of my body needed it too. It turned out to be another 4.6 miles to aid station 10 (50 miles) where I quickly ate anything that looked good. That was mostly a few bites of grilled cheese, pickles, and pretzels. I left feeling better than when I had arrived knowing that I had some real food in my stomach.

I felt like I may have over packed for just two nights of camping and running, but I was going straight to a wedding after.

That positive feeling started to fade a few miles out as my feet finally started to complain. The super technical terrain combined with hours of saturation had taken a toll on my feet and they were beginning to rebel. I had felt several hot spots during the day and more recently I had felt several blisters tear open and gush. It was somewhere in this stretch that I hit my lowest point of the day. I had a grumbling stomach, blistered feet, and a bonky head. I wondered why I had ever decided to attempt the PA Triple Crown Series. I told myself that I probably wouldn’t be able to finish Eastern States based on how today was going. I wondered if I should even make the drive all the way to the middle of nowhere PA to start Eastern States. I kinda had a bit of a pity party for myself. As I rolled up to aid station 11 to find out it was water only, it was just one more item to add to my list of reasons to celebrate the pity. It felt like it took a long time, but I finally made it to aid station 12 (57.9 miles), the final aid station. I decide that I would take my time here and get the calories my body needed and the solid food that my stomach craved. I think I ate nearly two grilled cheeses and drank a 12 ounce can worth of Coca-Cola. I left the aid station in much better spirits and with a satisfied stomach. I was moving better immediately leaving the aid station and quickly caught up with a couple guys that had passed me shortly before reaching the aid station. I ran with them for a bit, but quickly found myself wanting to push the pace a bit more. This was some of the most runnable terrain we had seen all day and the elevation change was extremely gradual compared to the other 95% of the course. I don’t know if it was the Coke, the grilled cheese, or just the excitement of knowing I was only a few miles from the finish line, but I was ready to run again. The pain had subsided and I was feeling more energized and motivated than I had at almost anytime earlier in the day. Shortly after I had started to put a bit of distance between me and the couple guys I had just been running with I heard another runner exchange greetings with them. He was moving fast and it gave me an adrenaline rush and a goal to try to keep pace with him. It felt like we were doing sub 8 minute miles, but my Garmin data tells me that at best we did just over a 10 minute mile. Although cruising at a 10 minute mile pace certainly does feel fast when you’d been struggling to do sub 20 minute miles not that long ago. I kept with my newest companion until about the last half mile of the course where there is a gnarly and steep descent. I nearly wiped out on a slick piece of stone and decided to cut it back so I wouldn’t hurt myself with less than a mile to go.

Coming into High Knob aid station (mile 35.8).
Photo credit:  Tania Lezak (
With that final “sprint” at the finish I ended the day on a high. It was like the low points had never existed. I wouldn’t remember them again until later that night as I hobbled into the camp showers and attempted to wash my busted up and raw feet. That was later though, and at the finish I felt good. There was a camping party feel at the finish area with most of the 25k distance runners already recovering and hanging out. There was no shortage of food with pulled pork, burgers, mac and cheese, and a plethora of hot soups to choose from. The pulled pork sounded so good, but after a few bites I realized my stomach wasn’t ready for a full meal. However, at about 3 AM the following morning when I woke up in my sleeping bag with a mad appetite that pulled pork sandwich was devoured in about two minutes flat then I rolled over and went back to sleep. It all could have been a dream, but I found the empty plate next to me in the morning to confirm that it had actually happened.

Somewhere around mile 11. Photo credit:  Tania Lezak (

So what is the take away and what did I learn from this race? For one thing, avoiding planning or making plans does not solve anxiety. Maybe planning would have helped relieve some anxiety.
The buckle along with my
V8 the morning after.
Secondly, this was the hardest race I had ever attempted and although that scared me and made a good part of the race painful and unenjoyable, I was proud of myself for doing it and happy that I put myself through the process. The day after the race my wife and I attended a wedding where we drank a bit more than usual and danced, at least I attempted to with my shot quads. Running a tough 100k the day before a wedding is the greatest excuse for being a crappy dancer. Sometime during the evening when we were talking about the race and I was saying how it was the hardest thing I’d ever done and how it had made me so scared of Eastern States that I was questioning even attempting it she fixed everything. I don’t remember her exact words (thanks hard cider), but basically she reminded me that it isn’t supposed to be easy, that ultrarunning is supposed to be hard and is supposed to push you to your limits. And what better way to push yourself to your limits than to attempt a race you fear you will not be able to finish. Look out Eastern States, it’s almost go time!

Scott Snell
July 29, 2017

Sunday, July 2, 2017

2017 Hyner View Trail Challenge 50K

"If you never did you should.   
These things are fun, and fun is good."  
---   Dr. Seuss

The cool and wet start of the 50K.
Photo credit:  David Whitney Potts


If you’ve read my previous two race reports (Naked Bavarian and NJ Ultra Festival) you may be wondering why the hell do I run ultras when it seems like I just complain and get disappointed after they’re over. Well, the reason is because sometimes you have a great day where it feels like everything goes right. And when you don't you usually get a great story to tell and you learn something. My day at the Hyner View Trail Challenge 50K was one of those days where everything clicked all day long. When you have a race day like that, it makes you appreciate all of the long hours of training you put in even more and also the subpar race days you struggled to grind through. Although those rough training runs and bad race days provide an opportunity for you to prove your grit and determination, a great race day when everything seems to just fall into place can be much more refreshing and just plain fun.

Somewhere midrace, but I'm not sure where because I think I was smiling the for the entirety of it.
Photo credit:  David Whitney Potts
What can I say about this race? I could make this the shortest race report ever and just say that this felt like it may have been the best ultra I’ve run thus far. I felt prepared for it. I felt well rested and healthy leading up to it. I never felt exhausted during it. I experienced no stomach issues or any other unexpected physical pain. I had zero low points from beginning to end. My running felt strong throughout the entire distance and I still had some excess energy at the finish to push at a faster pace for the last couple miles. I could wrap this report up here by saying that this race was probably my best performance at the 50K distance and definitely the one I am most proud of. However, I feel that would be doing a great disservice to the stellar event that is known as the Hyner View Trail Challenge.
If you live in the Mid-Atlantic area and have been into trail running and/or ultrarunning for some time, you have probably already heard about the Hyner View Trail Challenge. If not, you may be living
An example of some of the rocky terrain along the course.
Photo credit:  Don Halke
under one of the many rocks that frequent the rocky terrain of the course. This year marked the 11th annual running of the Hyner View Trail Challenge and in those 11 years the PA Trail Dogs (the running group that organizes the race) have earned quite a reputation in the ultrarunning community for putting on an amazing event. Race director Craig Fleming strongly stresses the challenging aspect of the course on the Hyner View Trail Challenge website stating that the “course was not designed for the ‘leisure’ runner or hiker. Nor was it designed so that ‘everyone’ can easily finish”. This description and the reputation of the race strongly attracted me to it. I, like most other ultrarunners I know, enjoy a bit of a challenge. Which would explain why the Hyner View Trail Challenge seems like it’s gotten so dang popular; it was sold out at 1300 runners this year and both distances (25K and 50K) have already sold out for next year. Likely adding to the popularity and the amount of exposure the Hyner View Trail Challenge has experienced in recent years is the fact that it is the first race of the PA Triple Crown Series, a rather newly formed (2016) race series which also includes Worlds End Ultramarathon 100k (June) and Eastern States 100 (August). Because of all the great things I have read and heard about the Hyner and because I am attempting to complete the PA Triple Crown Series this year, I was excited to check out the Hyner course this year and take the first step towards completing the series.

The view from the top of the first climb at Hyner View Overlook.
Photo credit:  David Whitney Potts
The Hyner course is technical and challenging, but also offers some breathtaking vistas along the way and beautiful scenery for its entirety. If you live on the East Coast and thought you had to go “out west” to find breathtaking and scenic trail courses with challenging terrain you were right and wrong. You do have to go west, but only as far as central Pennsylvania. Other than at the start and the finish of the course when you follow a short stretch of road to use Hyner Bridge to cross over the Susquehanna River, the rest of the course is basically all single track trail with a few fire roads mixed in. If you like hills, the Hyner course will not disappoint. The 50K course has few flat sections and will treat you to basically five big climbs totalling 7,232 feet of elevation gain (according to my Garmin). The course brings the climbs early as well. Maybe about or a little under two miles from the start we hit the base of the first major climb, lovingly named Humble Hill. This climb is steep and lasts for over a mile before we reached the top and were treated to the beautiful view of the Susquehanna River from the peak of Hyner View. I felt good during this climb and forced myself not to push too hard, accepting my pace based on my effort level rather than aiming to maintain a specific pace. I knew that I still had a good distance to go and a lot of climbing to do after this hill and I did not want to blow up my quads before the finish. What I thought was really awesome about this first climb of the race wasn’t just the view, but the fact that the Hyner View overlook at the peak is highly accessible by road allowing spectators an easy means of access. This allowed for a big group of spectators cheering right at the peak of the first major climb. It was a welcome and motivating sound as I got near the peak to hear all of their support. It also felt like getting completely recharged from their energy after having just spent so much to make the long climb to the top.

The elevation profile according to my Garmin data.
An example of where the trail follows the creek.
Photo credit:  Don Halke
An example of where the trail became the creek.
Photo credit:  Don Halke
After some switchbacks, a quick descent, and a small creek crossing the 50K course branches off from the 25K course to cover the extra miles. Shortly after the split is the next big climb. I felt stronger and more confident from the start of this one and decided to push myself a bit more. I guess I had just warmed up a bit to the climbing. Following the peak of this climb was a long downhill that I felt like I was just cruising down effortlessly. After this enjoyable descent, I got into the wet section of the course. It felt like during much of this middle section (maybe from around mile 14 to 23) the course was either crossing a creek or ascending the two next major climbs directly up the creek bed. Let’s just say that my feet were wet for the middle part of the course, which made me so thankful for the terrible, wet conditions of the previous race I had run, the NJ Ultra Festival 50K. I trusted that my feet would hold up and not blister though the wet running conditions just like last time and thankfully they did hold up (thank you Altra Lone Peak 2.5s). Although a major difference between the two experiences was not only how much more positive and stronger I was feeling on this day, but also the fact that the wet trails on the Hyner course had a base of rock rather than the shoe sucking mud I experienced at the Ultra Festival. The way I powered up those two wet and technical climbs without feeling like I was emptying my tank encouraged me to try to push harder as I knew there was only one more major hill to conquer.

One of many creek crossings.
Photo credit:  Don Halke
Another aspect of the course design and race planning that I loved was the staggered timing of the starts of the 25K and 50K distances and the locations that were selected on the course for the 50K runners to branch off and rejoin the 25K course. The 50K start time was at 8 AM and the 25K runners started at 9 AM. What was great about this for the 50K runners was that with a cap of 300 runners there was very little bottlenecking near the start where we transitioned from road to trail. I can imagine and I heard from other people that this becomes an issue for the 25K runners as the cap for that distance is 1000 runners. Although the 50K runners get the better end of the deal, the staggered start times improves the situation for everyone as a single start time would force all 1300 runners to become congested at the shift to the trail. The 50K course splits off from the 25K course at about the 5.5 mile mark, makes two big climbs over the course of about 15 miles, and then rejoins the 25K course at about the 21 mile mark. What I thought was great about this was that after running the better part of the the first two thirds of the course alone, suddenly the course felt really crowded. Some people may think this is negative in that a crowded course means their pace will be slowed due to congestion and they may have a valid argument. Personally, I found it super motivating, maybe even exhilarating running past groups of people who were doing the 25K. Granted I wasn’t racing them and I’m sure many of them had every intention of hiking the better part of the 25K from the start, but when you’re constantly passing people for the last quarter of a race it is such a mental boost. Then when you start realizing that you’ve already run farther than the entire distance of their race you start feeling like frickin’ Superman. Not to mention how so many of them were so supportive. It felt like I had a cheering section for the entire last third of the race. I heard more “good job!”s and “nice work!”s in the last ten miles of this race than I did for the entirety of the one and only road marathon I’ve ever run. I really do credit a good part of having a race that I was so proud of to the synergistic effect of the combination of the cheerful support of the 25K runners and the mental and physical boost that resulted from seeing runners in the distance on the trail, catching up to them, and then exchanging encouraging words to one another as I passed. This may come off as sounding a bit egotistical, but this experience reminded me of how amazing the ultrarunning community is and how awesome the people who choose to partake are. We run 30, 50, and 100 miles in a single go. I’ve said it myself and I’ve heard plenty of other people say the same words:  “anyone can do this”. While I still believe this is true, the fact is that most people choose not to even make the attempt.

One of many beautiful views along the course.
Photo credit:  Don Halke
There are two small sections towards the end of the course that I feel I would be remiss if I did not mention them. The first being the very top of the final big climb of the course which is the steepest climb I have ever seen during a race. It is lovingly named SOB. It wasn’t a long section of it, but it was as close to requiring hands in contact with the ground to assist your climbing as you can get. Let me put it this way, I took an introductory rock climbing course at Yosemite National Park and some of the “rock climbing” we did was not as steep as SOB. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I saw one man basically clinging to SOB, full body in contact with the steepest section of the climb, as he was coaxed by several others to push on to the top. The second of the two sections I felt I had to mention was a small but steep and unexpected climb just before seeing the finish line. After cresting SOB, making the descent down the trail, and getting back on pavement to cross the Susquehanna River I was fully expecting to see the finish line right where the start line had been:  on the road entering the Western Clinton Sportmen's Association area. However, that was not the case. The course has you make a quick left off the entrance road back onto a trail. At this point you can hear the cheers at the finish line. Shortly after hitting the trail, there is a short but steep climb that I can only describe as feeling like a kick in the teeth. Then you round a quick corner and the finish line is in sight. It felt like getting sucker punched. My mental state was so positive and my running felt so strong all day that to have to dig deep just to manage a trot across the finish line completely winded was not what I expected. Nonetheless, I was still proud of my run and what a great after party they provided! 
A view of the Hyner View Overlook from the camping area.

I feel I’ve talked this race up quite a bit already, but it was a lot of little extras that made it even more
Another view from the camping
area just after sunset.
special. One of those was the camping right at the start/finish area. A huge thank you to the Western Clinton Sportmen's Association for allowing this event to use their land as a camping and staging area. Another was the food at the finish. A local company was grilling chicken and serving it with potato salad and slaw for everyone there. In addition, a local brewery was providing several of their brews to everyone of age. I can attest that the IPA I tried was delicious and refreshing. The ample supply of porta potties was so great that I never saw a line. Even more amazing than the number of porta potties was the quality of the TP. I’ve pooped in my share of porta potties. I’ve also wiped with a lot of different kinds of vegetation in various stages of decay in my day. In some cases I would prefer the vegetation over the excuse for TP that you usually find in porta potties. That was not the case here. The TP in the porta potties at the Hyner was top notch. By all means, it was better than any vegetation that I have ever used to wipe with. But in all seriousness, the one thing that stood out to me more than anything else at the finish area was the number of families that I saw together there. I saw plenty of couples with young kids. I saw families celebrating mom or dad’s finish and husbands and wives awaiting their significant other’s finish. It made me wish that my family had been there to share that experience with me. It also reaffirmed my belief that ultrarunning certainly can be a family affair. And that a future filled with traveling, ultrarunning, and camping with the family seems pretty bright and completely possible.
Scott Snell
June 30, 2017