Liberation: My Eastern States Story
PREAMBLE
I would 100% recommend this race to anyone who is up for the challenge. Well polished, organized and especially well marked course. Legitimately the best aid stations I have experienced (try the grilled cheese and bacon at Browns Run). Lots of great amenities for those that can survive. Race management is top-notch too.
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LIBERATION: MY EASTERN STATES STORY
My brain feels mushier than the mushy mattress at the Holiday Inn Express Williamsport. I am 18 miles into Eastern States at an aid station crying with my wife and I don't want to do this anymore. The first few sections of this race have really fucked me up and I am not having any fun. I don't have fun running these things anymore. I've been taking it easy but it feels like I slept for approximately two point four hours last night before the alarm was supposed to sound at 2:30. My head is pounding.
My brothers are out here running too. Kristen is crewing and tells me that Jesse said that I could run with him if I wanted. That will get me through to the next crew spot at Hyner, I thought. Betsy says I should see if everyone was right about the first 30 miles being the toughest. Everyone - running buddies, the internet, race officials - says to just survive the first 30 of Eastern States. I'm not going to finish this today but I'd like to see some more of the course, I guess. It would be cool to cross Pine Creek at 62 miles - even if it is live streaming on the internet where everyone can see me take a bath.
I am shoving food in my face and riding the Coke train early. Pretzels, salted watermelon, cookies - soaked in sweat and crying - it's starting to drizzle. This crew spot is an absolute shitshow. People everywhere bumping into one another, yellow caution tape struggling to provide a sense of order - wagons, chairs, umbrellas, fucking coolers, dogs, children. I am getting cold and need to start moving before I rage out on someone. When have I ever gotten a chill in the middle of August before? Jesse is here now being pampered, smiling big and telling us "maaaan this shit is stupid." He takes his socks off and Kristen hands him a fresh pair. "Have you tried these Injinji toe socks?!" His toes are individually wrapped in black tape. He slides on the second sock and loads his blue Osprey vest full of a Huma gel assortment.
This is going to be my second 100 mile DNF this year. I just don't want it like I used to. I'm really not having fun and I don't like trail running like trail runners like trail running. Eastern States is for real Trail Running too. You are climbing walls and tip toeing on the edge of rocks along large drop-offs through stagnant hollows on trails that are about as wide as a stick of gum - the shit is downright dangerous in spots. Their website says it's "graduate-level trail running" and I'd say that's fairly accurate. Though, I'd argue that it's kind of fucking stupid too. Real Trail Runners love this shit.
Jesse and I are now heading up a glorious gravel road only to find ourselves on a turbulent trail for a mile long, 900 foot climb straight up to a plateau. We've already come to expect this though and drop right back down after a short reprieve. These steep descents are causing more chaos than the climbs - my knees are wincing. Jesse complains, "This is the worst flavor of Huma. Blackberry banana? It's shit man!" I was excited to hear a lot of different birds out here but so far I have only heard one blue jay and a couple of eastern wood pewees. Even they want nothing to do with these dreary gorges. In the weeks leading up to Eastern States I was so stoked to experience an entirely new section of nature in the world but it really feels like nothing can thrive here. I swear that there's actually only been one pewee that's following and mocking me the entire morning.
It's nice running with Jesse. I'm impressed by his gameplan and mentality at this point in the race and already know he's going to finish. One foot in front of the other and all that. Here he is taking on this behemoth of a course after having only been running consistently for a few years. My mind is set on stopping at Hyner - especially now that we can hear thunder rolling in. What's wrong with running a nice road marathon anyway? That's a good test of endurance. There are a few magical portions of trail through this section though. Enormous rhododendron tunnels reaching a field of pines that have carpeted the forest floor for us. There are ferns splayed about absolutely everywhere around decaying logs and moss covered stones. A rattlesnake gets a big reaction from Jesse making its presence known as we trot through a small wooden bridge over a bustling stream.
We roll into Hyner Run twelve and a half hours after we left Little Pine State Park 43 miles ago. Kristen tends to Jesse while Betsy and I are just kind of staring at one another. "What's wrong with running a nice road marathon anyway?" I ask. I smell terrible, it is pouring and I feel like shit. I am not into this mentally even though mentally it feels like I haven't done anything yet. I definitely don't deserve the simple blueberry cake that was promised for me when we get home. I have half a headache. Kristen has a rain jacket wrapped around Jesse and is stuffing beef sticks into his pockets while holding an umbrella in her other hand. "I'm gonna need headphones for this next section," he says while putting in some earbuds. He is drinking an energy drink and Kristen is moving back and forth between the backseat, Jesse, and the trunk of their car with extreme focus. Bags and containers are clearly marked - everything has been meticulously prepared. Betsy has a few packs of pink lemonade Bolt Chews and a couple of Lemon Sublime GUs set out in the back of the HRV that is getting soaked in this downpour. Betsy worries, "I don't know what to do. I feel like I should be pushing you to keep going. I'm not a very good crew." We open a fresh bag of Doritos and share them as I sip an Upside Dawn. This just isn't my thing anymore. I always try not to overcomplicate these races. That's why Bets feels like this right now. My lethargic lack of planning and my anxiety ridden brain just don't match one another leading up to a big event like this. It's confusing. I'm all about the running and the mileage and what else do you need to prepare? All I'm going to need is some Sports Food and maybe a headlamp for when it gets dark. There are aid stations, I'll bring an extra shirt maybe.
With Dorito dusted fingers, I unpin the number from my soaking wet moisture wicking shirt and give it to the Hyner Run aid station captain. This shit is dumb. He of course gives me plenty of opportunity to change my mind. I am completely at ease with this though and grab a grilled cheese from the table to go. Betsy and I share it beneath the trunk of the car while we wait for a break in the rain.
I feel like I'm going through something here. In life - in 2023 - not at Eastern States. Maybe this race is a manifestation of that or something. I took a new job after working at the same spot for 16 years. Left after less than two weeks and went crawling back to the safety of the familiar job that I had left. Is there something wrong with that? I don't know. I know I didn't finish Old Dominion in June either. I thought my head was too full of shit from the impending job change that I didn't have the mental energy to deal with the stress of those familiar 100 miles. I knew it early that day too. A level-headed conscious decision that I put off until after 47 miles.
It just kind of feels like the magic is gone. It's depressing being uninspired, man. Nothing can or ever will be the same. It doesn't always have to be more or different or greater: it can just be. What the hell am I even talking about? I don't know. What's wrong with running a nice road marathon anyway?
Jesse finished his first 100 miler at Eastern States in 35:18:37. Kristen ran the last 41 miles by his side - her longest run to date. My other brother Josh finished in 34:30:03 after having a couple of setbacks over the course of the day. A gutsy and impressive first 100. I've got good people around me.
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