A Hot First 100 Race report on the Vermont 100-Mile Endurance Run: July 17-18, 1999 By Grant McKeown I am not sure when I first thought about running a 100-miler. Probably soon after my first 50k in '97. But once I'd experienced a 50 miler (JFK in November of '98 - 9:20), I was hooked. So last April I sent in my application for the Vermont 100- Mile Endurance Run. I was exhilarated by the idea of such an adventure though equally aware too of the training required. I concentrated on three to four runs a week: Two or three 8-10 mile runs and a weekend long run of 20-30 miles, 3-5 hours. Living in New York City, with my running turf Central Park, made it challenge training for a 100-mile hilly trail run. During May and June I was able to throw in three 5 hour runs across the George Washington Bridge, along the trails of the Palisades Park in New Jersey. But the unusually hot weather I encountered would actually pay the biggest dividends in Vermont. I used Clip, Hammer Gel, Succeed! Buffer Caps, Powerbars and the occasional P & J sandwich on my long runs, accustoming my body to the nutrients I'd be utilizing in Vermont. And outside of one fall, where I slightly hyper-extended both knees, and a pesky 3-week case of poison ivy, I survived training in one piece. I felt fit and ready. I arrived at the Millbrook B & B in Brownsville at 2 A.M. Friday via a Hertz rental car. After five hours of sleep, I awoke and at breakfast met my hostess, Kaye Carriere and fellow boarders. Kaye runs a cozy inn, and she serves wonderful breakfasts. And, most remarkably, she fixed breakfast for us at 2 A.M. race-day! The other boarders were: Lynn Yarnall, a 100 veteran from Washington State, who had run Vermont in '98 and just recently finished the Western States 100. Lynn Werner from Washington, and another 100 vet (And now second woman at the '99 Olander Park 24 hour with 116 miles), had also just run Western States. David Olsho, her husband, had completed 100 miles in the Pacific Rim 24-hour run earlier in the year. Vermont was the first 100 for Cheri Gillis from Washington and also for Hal Chiasson from California. Cheri's husband, Pete, had accompanied her and Hal's wife, Stephanie, was there too. Ron Nicholl, Lynn Yarnall's friend from Washington, (a 100 vet and an ultra running correspondent) would be her crew and pacer. The schedule for Friday included, the check in at Smoke Rise Farm, the medical weigh-in, a pre-race "Have Fun!" pep talk by Laura Farrell, the director, and finally the pasta/veggie group dinner. I also got to meet top runner, Kevin Setnes, and at dinner Janine Duplessis and Stan Jensen, both of who would go on to complete the Grand Slam for '99 and The Last Great Race. After dinner, I dropped off my three Tuff-Tote Rubbermaid containers labeled with their aid station destinations: Stage Road, Camp 10 Bear and Bill's. Later, back at the B&B, I set out my West Side Runners NYC singlet, Adidas TR4 shoes, Smart Wool socks, Sequel Rhat hat and Ultimate belt, and then attempted to get some sleep. I got about 2 hours. At 2 AM I was up. I had a quick shower and a shave, some coffee and toast and even one of Kaye's great pancakes. I then mixed the Clip for my 20-oz bottle and it was time to go. Ron arrived to drive Lynn to the start but a phone call from Janine altered those plans. Janine's car would not start and she needed a lift. So Lynn went with me in my car and Ron went to pick- up Janine. Fifteen minutes and 4 miles of back country roads later, we were at the Smoke Rise Farm. The early morning sky over the pasture of farm was crystal clear and full of stars. Ever since my first off-road run, (Mt. Greylock Marathon '98), I've always carried a one-use camera to chronicle my trail runs. At Vermont, I had three. One at the start and two stashed in my drop boxes. After check-in at the barn, I had someone take a photo of Lynn and me. Soon the call was to the starting line. We moved out of the barn down the dirt driveway in front of the Smoke Rise home. On the porch seated at a piano was a dapper tuxedoed gentleman who treated us to inspirational music. Several minutes later the race was on. I was surprised how rapidly the field took off down the dirt road, flashlights dotting the darkness ahead of me. Very soon we made a left turn off onto the first trail and first climb of the day. I reminded myself of my mantra. "Walk the hills and drink every 15 minutes." The weather forecast was dire, with a prediction of sunny skies, temperatures in the 90's and high humidity. On this climb, I briefly met my first running partner of the day: Brooke Alexander from Gulf Port, Mississippi. Later I 'd meet her husband Greg, who doubled as her crew and pacer. The pre-dawn seemed strangely quiet, with just the sound of a few waterfowl and the soft clatter of runners on the trail. As I entered the first and unmanned Densmore Hill (3.8) aid station, still in darkness, runners were flocking around the water & Succeed! jugs like frenzied pigeons in Central Park. Beaver Pond (5.5) was where I first met ... well, I called them "Ben & Jerry". Two of the many hard-working volunteers, who kept us hydrated, ice cooled and fed throughout the run. As I entered the next aid station, Happy Valley (9.6), there they were again! I saw these guys at, at least four spots along the course. The sun was rising brilliantly as I left Happy Valley with a "four-legged" posse in close pursuit. Beginning an hour later, the eighteen competitors of the traditional Vermont 100-Mile Horse Race were finally reeling us in. The horses were particularly magnificent and, coupled with the exchange of runner/rider amenities, our crossing was refreshment to all. Taftsville Bridge (12.2) ended a long gradual descent and presented a unique medical check. Several physicians from Lennox Hill Hospital in New York City were conducting a study of the physical efforts of endurance running. Taftsville was the first of three times that they would be taking blood from previously screened volunteer runners. One of these runners was my B & B friend, Cheri Gillis. On a day when maintaining body fluid would be most critical, it seemed a bit ghoulish. But such is the stuff of ultra- runners. It was about 6:45 A.M. From Taftsville we started out on a long gradual climb, through South Pomfret (14.4), ending at the Pomfret aid station (18), the first access station for crews. Along the way I met Joe Brown and discovered that he and I had both run in the Kurt Steiner 50 K in Central Park earlier in the year. Vermont was Joe's first 100 too. Looking out over the fence of a farm, we noticed a sign: "Cross this pasture at your risk! You can't see the bull, but he can see you!" Joe, by the way, finished way ahead of the bull in 25:55. At the shady top of the climb, we rounded a dirt road and broke out into the bright early morning sunshine. The Pomfret aid station was ablaze with activity and energy. The first of several mandatory rest areas for the horses, a splendid home with a very colorful flower garden and a fully stocked, vigorously manned aid station, with crew and friends abounding. A great surprise for me too. Sweep Voll and Beth Herder, my "Diva Trail Runner Crew", as I now fondly call them, cheered my arrival. Sweep had finished Vermont in '98 (26:29) so I had phoned her for advice. She told me to: "Walk the hills and drink every 15 minutes." Thus my mantra. She said, she and Beth, her sister (Both strong trail runners of WMAC and Sweep a competitive biker too) were planning on coming up to cheer for friends and watch the run. As anyone who knows Sweep and Beth can testify, their enthusiasm and generous nature are something else. And I must attest, that having attractive, healthy young women hoot and holler for you and hug your sweaty body does wonders for the courage. Their friend, Stan Tiskah was there too. They said they would see me again at Camp 10 Bear (44.2). Refreshed and revitalized, I exited Pomfret, peanut butter & jelly sandwich in hand and, as Laura had coaxed us the day before, "Having fun!" Best of all, 4 hours of running had passed comfortably. I would love to be able to quote accurate time splits, which I was, at the time, diligently recording with my watch. But, I can't. More on that later. The splits I quote are courtesy of the diligence of the Vermont officials. I was never really concerned with my splits. I knew 24 hours was possible but a trouble-free 26 or 27 hours would be just fine. On the trek from Pomfret to Top House (21) we passed a vineyard where early morning berry pickers were at their tasks. Most notably, all were wearing hats and they seemed to be moving incredibly slow. On the way to Harvey's (23.3), we crested a hilltop with many downed trees. They had been toppled, I was told, by an ice and windstorm of the previous winter. It was on that unshaded hillside, I first sensed the heat of the day. The energy at Harvey's was a bit manic. The growing heat and I suppose the 4.4 miles to the next aid station, Stage Road, were contributing factors. On the downhill out of Harvey's, I met Linda Valee, from Farmington, NY. I had the pleasure of running with Linda on and off throughout the next 25 miles. She too was a rookie. After the descent from Harvey's and then a short steep climb, I entered a heavily forested steep downhill section. The trail twisted and turned, going in and out of tree cover and across short open fields. A wonderful isolation with nature, where another runner could be twenty yards away and you'd never know it. Just great fun! The trail eventually spilled out into a farm road and another beautiful pasture. A mile later, the Stage Road (27.4) aid station was a wake-up call for everybody. Runners were already showing the effects of the sun, heat and humidity, their crews busily assisting them. As I retrieved my drop box, I was greeted by Ron Nicholl. Lynn Yarnall had already come through, so Ron offered me a hand. He was tremendous, refueling my bottles and getting me food. I opened my green drop box and got new socks, Clip, Succeed!, the neck flap for my cap, Powerbars, a full flask of Hammer Gel and my second camera. I snapped Ron's picture, with P & J sandwich in hand like a good crewman, and was about to push off when Lynn Werner pulled into the station. She was having a tough time. A lingering fatigue from her Western States finish, three weeks earlier, the main reason. Lynn eventually had to drop from the race. I departed Stage Road to the welcome cheers of the crews. There I met up again with Linda and also Brooke, who I had not seen since the start. And with a right turn off the asphalt road, we started an ascent up a trail. About 6 hours had passed. The climb up from Stage Road was over 400 feet in a mile. As we slowly powered up the exposed hillside, I took a few shots of the beautiful surroundings. We finally crested the hill, passed through some nice trail sections and three more aid stations: Route 12 (30.8), Vondell Reservoir (32.7) and the Lincoln Covered Bridge (36.1). At Vondell, I briefly saw Ron Olsho and told him I'd seen Lynn at Stage Road. Ron would continue on to finish in 27:43. I saw a beautiful little farm with a lone horse in the pasture along this section. I took a great picture of the farm and Linda and I took pictures of each other at the Lincoln Covered Bridge. Along the entire course of the Vermont 100 are cottages and homes, and a variety of farmhouses with pastures and many with small beautiful ponds. The homeowners were usually present too, greeting us and cheering our efforts. In one case a couple of guys having a cookout, serenaded us with banjo and guitar. And, of course, there was Mrs. Barr. The climb up the road to the Barr House (38.4) aid station, finished with the last mile gaining almost 500 feet and in full sun. Mrs. Barr was busily manning the supposedly unmanned aid station in front of her home. Her aid table was under a big shade tree and I remember a nice breeze too. I snapped a great shot of Mrs. Barr. She laughed and said: "How wonderful!" for me to be photographing her. I replied, "It was the least I could do." in return for her marvelous support. Linda, who I was running with at the time, was anxious to be moving on. She pointed out to me a number of runners in the area who were prone or in visible stomach distress. A contagion to avoid. So after quickly refilling our bottles with water and ice and, my main stay, some ice under the cap, we were off again. It was half past noon and hot! But we had covered 38.4 miles in about 8 and half-hours. I knew I was spending an above average amount of time at aid stations but with over a third of the distance covered and still feeling good, I wasn't about to change my tactics. The next 5.8 miles to Camp 10 Bear (44.2) included some nice running through a barnyard, around a huge pasture and a section of forest trails. The heat was most noticeable in the several miles from Jenny Farm (42.6) to Camp 10, on a very open, unshaded dusty road. Reports had been filtering in to us that temps were reaching well into the 90s. The question for all of us going into Camp 10, was the weigh in. With the 3,5 and 7 percent weight loss rule in effect, it could be a race-enter. I had suffered no ill effects so far. No nausea, no muscle cramps and, accordingly to my four or so "bathroom breaks", I was staying well hydrated. We were cheered at Camp 10 Bear (44.2) like we had finished the run. I quickly went to the scales to be weighed, as a volunteer filled my bottle with ice and water. Amazingly, I was exactly the same weight (121 lbs.) as my pre-race check- in. Credit here to the Clip and Succeed! Buffer Tabs that were a constant for me throughout the race. Sweep, Beth and Stan were jubilant at my efforts. They fetched my drop box and sat me down in a chair. I changed socks, lubed my toes and restocked Powerboats, a fresh gel flask, a full baggie of Succeed! and more Clip. I took at least ten minutes but I was "Having Fun!" After a few more photos of my "crew", I began the 24-mile loop that would bring me back again to Camp 10 Bear. Ten and a half hours had passed since Smoke Rise Farm. I'd barely started out when Kevin Setnes came flying down the dirt road on his return to Camp 10 Bear (68.4). He looked strong and relaxed and even returned my greeting as he coasted by. I felt lucky to have seen a lead runner with only a mile or so of the course crossing in this way. I was inspired and happy to be running with Linda again and then suddenly ... "Ow! Ow! Ouch!!" The pinky on my left foot felt like a bee had stung it. I sat down on the side of the road, quickly removed my shoe and sock and found nothing. No bee, no swelling, no blister, nothing. Puzzled, I then recalled a long forgotten pain. I realized my toenail had probably just died. I mourned it's passing and, relieved, put my sock and shoe on back. The pain was gone in ten minutes though I did eventually lose the toenail. The 7+ miles to Birmingham's (51.7) included an incident where I was initially saved from running off trail by an ex-Marine. He was, though, the most unpleasant individual I was to encounter all day. He said his wife had woken him from his nap and kicked him out of an aid station. Incredibly, he began to direct his anger with his wife and womankind in general toward Linda. She attempted to humor him but he just got nastier. Fortunately for us, a mile later, he spotted an acquaintance napping on a stone wall and decided to make his life miserable. Linda and I quickly moved up the steep forested trail leaving this dissembler behind. At Pinky's (48.7), Linda was struggling a bit and waved me on. I realized I did need to maintain my own pace and reluctantly proceeded on. I would not see her again. Linda went on to finish her first 100 in 27:55. A mile before Birmingham's I caught up with Cheri Gillis, a little tired from all the heat. There was a nice downhill going into Birmingham's and I took advantage of it, telling Cheri I'd see her later. Birmingham's (51.7) was a bit of Eden. A well shaded, well stocked aid station, a lovely home and a delightful looking pond where a volunteer just happened to be taking a swim. I had passed a number of runners cooling their feet in streams along the way. An option I regret not trying. Just a hundred or so runners had passed through the station. That was out of 246 starters. The weather seemed to be taking a toll. A couple of more photos of Birmingham's and I was across the pasture and into the woods. Over half way home, I had covered 51.7 miles in a little over 12 hours. In the next 16+ miles back to Camp 10 (68.2), I found my third wind. I was catching and meeting runners and forming new alliances. I caught up with Lynn Yarnall just before Tracer Brook. She managed a nice "jump for joy" for my camera. At Tracer Brook (54.9), I saw Ron Nicholl again and Pete waiting for Cheri. Lynn and Cheri would go on to finish together in 27:34. I saw quite a few crews still waiting for their runners too. Twelve and a half hours gone by and I was still feeling fresh. Out of Tracer Brook there was a short very steep section where I met and waIked a bit with Karl Jensen. Karl was on his way to a 26:07 finish. He was also on his way to becoming a '99 Grand Slammer and a Last Great Racer. As the hill flattened out, I moved on. Since leaving Linda at 48 miles, I had not run with anyone for more then half a mile. I was missing the company. That was about to change. Just before Prospect Hill (58.1), I began running with Georges Thiry, a scientist from Wavre, Belgium. Georges had just attended a scientific conference in the Northeast coinciding with the Vermont.100. As we refueled at the Prospect Hill aid station I heard a runner say "Didn't we meet at JFK?" I looked up and realized we had. Debbie Moss was the first the Western States finisher I'd met. Brooke Alexander pulled into the aid station next. Then, remarkably, "Ben and Jerry" showed up, tooling down the dirt road toward us, in their red Ford Pick-up! What goes around, comes around! And I was no longer alone. Plus somewhere along this section we did indeed see a snake in the road! So pulling into Heather's (60.2), I felt a new exhilaration. It was after 6:30 PM so perhaps it was the effect of less heat. Heather's had, it was rumored, Margaritas for the runners. None were available but the laid back aid folks were playing some cool Jimmy Buffet music. I noticed a box full of many colored plastic Hawaiian leis and asked a seated, very passive woman what they were for. She said: "They're for you. Take one." "What color?" I asked. "Orange", she replied. As I placed the lei over my head, she jumped up and yelled: "You're the first one to get "leied" at Heather's!" So I did come in first at Vermont! Rehydrated, fed and wearing my orange lei, I departed Heather's with Georges and Brooke. For the next 5 miles, we traded lively conversation and keep a good pace in the waning heat of the day. We had not been crushed by the oppressive weather and felt strong. We had played our cards right ... so far. Three or so miles before Camp 10 Bear (68.4) on a long downhill, Georges and I picked up our pace, moving ahead of Brooke. Brooke would go on to finish in 27:32. On a long descending section, we had a wonderful surprise. We met up with Laura Farrell, setting a good pace. Laura was saying farewell as director of Vermont by running it once again. I took a photo of Laura and Georges and then he took one of Laura and I. We then thanked Laura for the wonderfully managed run, wished her luck and feeling our downhill racing legs under us, continued on. Laura would finish her 100 in 27:08. A little further on, we met up with Vermont veteran, Newton Baker. Newton had run 23:07 in '97 and from his accounts of past Vermont 100s; this one was about the toughest. Today he'd make it in 25:57. Newton and Georges cruised into Camp 10 (68.4) ahead of me. At the weigh in, I was still holding my same weight. Excellent! Sweep and Beth had left but Pete, who was waiting for Cheri, gave me a hand with ice and water. I changed socks, restocked the essentials, got my last camera, and retrieved a flashlight, and my Hubbel micro lamp, clipped to a head bandana. It was almost 8 PM and I was anxious to get as far as possible before nightfall. Running in pitch darkness was one aspect of a 100 miler that I could not train for in Manhattan. So I had a little trepidation. I headed out of Camp 10 alone. The trail crossed a road, moved a hundred yards into the woods and then struck a steep, abrupt ascent, climbing 500 feet over the next mile. I remember the wonderful calming stillness of those darkening woods and the very rocky footing. At the top of the climb, Gerry's aid station (70.4) had lit some candles. A close look at my watch was disturbing. It should have been reading 16+ hours but only read 12 hours and several other strange splits. Perplexed, I cleared the times, restarted the stopwatch and sped on along the descending road. I momentarily caught up with another runner, who blurted out to me how his watch (a Timex Ironman too) had stopped at 16 hours. I suppose 16 hours is the cut-off time for that event. Feeling my good road legs, I moved on at a good pace. Nighttime had arrived. I knew so because all I could see ahead of me was the flashlights of fellow runners and the green glow sticks, about every quarter mile, marking the trail. Runners moving ahead of you, their flashlights dancing about, are a marvelous experience. For one thing, it can give you a good sense of the approaching terrain of hilltops, descents and turns. They can also be a wonderful mesmerizing pacer or the way to new companionship. First I caught up with my friend Debbie Moss and her pacer. After an exchange of hellos, I soon realized that I was a bit of a third wheel in their runner-pacer bonding and so I chugged on ahead. I felt a bit sad but knowing what we all were attempting to accomplish I understood. Debbie would go on to pass me again and finish in a splendid 23:38. A peculiar sight then soon shook my solitary thoughts. Was I seeing someone swing a lantern from side to side or two runners lights rhythmically pulsating or ... .was I hallucinating? As I got closer, I saw that it was just a lone runner with a unique phosphorescent belly lamp. The runner was Carol Laplante, honored at Vermont '98 for completing her three hundredth ultra. Conversing with Carol about her unusual light (a friend had made it for her) and her ultra prowess was just what I needed. I remember too the very starry sky and a beautiful crescent moon. As Carol's pace was too slow for me, I bid her adieu. Carol had finished Vermont '98 in a fine 22:38 and would continue on to finish here in 27:06. A measure of how tough a day it was. I was only about 4 miles from Bill's (83.4), our last medical check, when I met up again with Georges, accompanied by his pacer. We made for good company from Bodley (79.9) to Ashley (81.9) the station before Bill's. Looking forward to getting to Bill's I jumped out of Ashley's ahead of Georges. My biggest mistake of the day. Head down and motoring up the dirt road I failed to discern two green glow sticks on my left, which meant a left turn. I had gone a half a mile when I heard Georges, yelling from behind me: "Where are the green glow sticks?" Looking ahead I realized there were none. Georges' pacer turned and sped back down the road retracing our footsteps. We followed at a slower pace and found him at the missed left turn. Apologizing for my error, I led the way into Bill's across a lumpy, rough pasture. At my weigh in, I was just a pound over. I saw Stephanie there too, waiting for Hal. The extra mile seemed to have sapped my momentum and I spent over ten minutes regrouping. As I delved into my drop box, I found myself singing "Margaritaville", much to the amusement of some of the crews. I was really just trying to drown out those ringing falsetto voices of the Bee Gee's singing "Stayin' Alive" that was echoing in my head. I had to stay loose. I changed socks, changed batteries, stowed some canisters of Amino and moved out. It was after 12 midnight when I left Bill's. I power walked out, my running legs all but gone. Sixteen miles and four steep climbs to go meant 24 hours just would not be happening. Considering the extreme weather and the fact that I never thought I'd be close to 24 hours at all, I was very satisfied with my day. No silver buckle this time. There was a silver lining though, for a little way out of Bill's I hooked up with another runner, Eric Hodges. Thus began a 16-mile conversation. Ric is from Chatsworth, California and a finisher of the tough Angeles Crest 100. And in '97 he burned the Vermont course in 22:25. Today, though, he said he would have traded some of the AC 100 altitude for Vermont's heat. So from aid station to aid station, we teamed up against the remaining hills and rough trails, keeping each other oriented and steadily power-walking ahead. From time to time he would strike out ahead of me as I lagged and then I would push out of an aid station ahead of him. Ric, like me, has an easy going and positive nature. Negative thoughts or feelings by either of us were short lived and quickly, quietly humored away. Ric even managed to take a half-decent picture of me at the Blood Hill (88.6) aid station. I sampled very little in the way of food in those last miles. Perhaps a few potatoes, some Hammer Gel. Powerboats? No thank you. P & J sandwiches? Enough already! Clip? No more! No more! The thing that was most palatable was Coke. I drank a few gulps at each remaining aid station. Brain candy, as I'd read, and I'm sure the caffeine didn't hurt. I do regret not trying the Amino that I had stashed in my belt. At the Densmore Hill (94) aid station we had a lively talk with the volunteers. Admittedly, it was because I asked if they had any Wild Turkey around. They said they'd seen only about 50 runners so far. As tight and slow as I felt, I was happy to have less than 2 hours and 10k to go. South Woodstock (96.1) was the next and last aid station before the finish. Ric told me his wife, Liz, would be there too. We still had a good climb out of Densmore followed by a half mile of so of a quad burning down hill into South Woodstock. Halfway down, Hal, from my B & B, and his pacer came flying by us. Hal went on to finish in 25:02. The aid station at South Woodstock was beside (what else) a large horse stable. Ric introduced me to his wife, Liz, and we set about refueling for the last 4 miles. I took advantage of the Port-a-san, glad to fulfill my lone major metabolic obligation of the day. We then pushed on to the last climb and reportedly some very rough trail. I incurred at least half dozen stumbles, toe stubs and staggers along this section. Probably where I trashed my right Achilles. Twilight was coming on as we power walked our way forward and turned off our flashlights. And I took my deepest breath of the day. I was going to do it. Liz came out to meet us on the trail about a half-mile out, shouting wonderful encouragement. Just behind Liz, was a video camera crew. They asked Ric and I if it would be OK to film us as we finished. We looked at each other, a bit bemused I think, and said: "Sure." So with the cameraman back stepping in front of us, we continued toward the finish line. They asked us our names, and ultra experience and also what we were feeling at these final moments. How do you sum up 100 miles and 25 hours in a couple of minutes? Impossible! I know, like most "live" news reports, they wanted to record our emotions. So we told them ... we "felt pretty good." So much for soap drama. Tune in to the next 100-miler for "The Days of Our Trails"! Ric, as I know now, was very humble in his plaudits. As I write this, Eric Blaine Hodges has completed the Grand Slam of 100 Milers for 1999! An elite group of eleven runners. Way to go, buddy! The finish at Vermont came up quickly. We emerged out of the trail, crossed a dirt road and then had a hundred-yard run down a hill, up a short rise, and finally under a tall log frame with small neon "Finish Line" sign on top. Ric wanted me to cross ahead of him since it was my first 100. I wanted us to finish together but he won out. Liz snapped a picture of us, as Ric and I had a victory embrace. We finished in 25:17. It had been a very tough day where just 109 of 246 made it back to Smoke Rise Farm. A small number of folks were sitting in chairs watching the finishers and applauded us. After some more celebration, I took a few more photos. There was one of Ric and Liz, one of Georges (a great first time finish in 23:40!) and his pacer, and lastly, one of the Lennox Hill physicians and the great medical personnel too (my final weigh in at 3 lbs. over). I then slowly walked the quarter mile back to my car. My right calf was very sore and tight, and I was looking forward to the short drive back to my B&B and a shower. What I discovered at my car was a flat tire. Initially, I was very upset. I mean, I had just done 100 miles (101 including my wrong turn) and now this! After trying to find an air pump and considering a call to Avis, I resolved to change the tire myself. Easier said than done. The car was in a soft sodden pasture and I could not squat down but had to either stand or go horizontal on the ground. Forty minutes later, I was truly finished. Man and his machines! I had to laugh. Thank you God, for my legs. Epilogue: I fear I may have been a bit long-winded with this report. But there were hundreds more moments at Vermont that I did not write about. Imagine a daylong excursion through beautiful countryside where your every step brings you new experiences, every bend in the trail introduces you to new friends and every moment is created solely by you, and your commitment to your goal. Sound good? Then, go for it! Things I Learned from Vermont and Future 100 Mile Strategy 1) Stretch more and strengthen the Achilles tendon. (My only injury from Vermont) 2) Incorporate more power-walking hills in long runs (To stress condition the legs) 3) Try double runs of 20 & 20 for long run days. (To stress the endocrine system) 4) Add in some swimming and weight training. (Cross train and rest the body) 5) Try some other trail shoes (More stability & protection) 6) Get a chronograph with a 30-hour stopwatch. (That should be enough time for me) 7) Get a real trail camera that can take better pictures. (Love those F-stops) 8) Test running with a micro cassette recorder. (To make reports like this one a breeze)