From owner-ultra@caligari.Dartmouth.EDU Fri Sep 5 08:05:30 1997 From: "Medinger, John (medi)" To: "'ius-l@american.edu'" , "'ultra@listserv.dartmouth.edu'" Subject: Dot Helling's Vermont 100 (long) Date: Fri, 5 Sep 1997 08:04:25 -0700 Here is a first person account by Dot Helling, who won the Vermont 100 on July 26. (I always wondered what it would be like to win a race!) - Tropical John medinger@chevron.com MY 1997 VERMONT 100 by Dot Helling Lou Peyton wrote a wonderful congratulory note with a request that I share the experience of winning this year's overall women's division of the Vermont 100. How did I do it? What was it like? While the 100 miles was not effortless, the result was not intended. I did not purposefully "compete" throughout the day until those juices kicked in passing Errol Jones at mile 94 in the dark. I went into this race with trepidation. I had not run 100 miles in three years, I was undertrained compared to previous 100 milers, and my husband was not there to crew. John had been there for every other 100 miler I had run. Because of all these concerns, and questions about whether or not my compartment syndrome would act up, my goal was to pace myself carefully and pay special attention to my specific physical needs, particularly forcing myself to eat and stay hydrated. If able to stay comfortable and strong, I was hoping to break 20 hours. My previous best was 20:08 in 1994. I did three things absolutely right. I forced the food and drink in steady quantities. I stayed with my own plan. I made myself warm. My difficulties in past 100-milers have always resulted from not eating or drinking enough, or getting cold. The latter almost got me this time. We started the race in a damp fog, a bit nippy. Still I went with shorts and a singlet. At 5 miles I wondered why my legs were stiff and sore - had I not rested enough? not run enough miles? biked too much? not run enough downhills? The first 12 miles of the VT 100 includes a lot of downhill on gravel and dirt roads. I was concerned because it was too early to have uncomfortable legs. Somewhere along the course before reaching Taftsville, I began leapfrogging with Derrick DeLong from California, and we started socializing. He mentioned that his legs were stiff from the chilly fog, and there was my answer. I was cold. But the forecast was for clearing skies, sun and warmer temperatures so I waited for that. It never happened. Instead the skies got cloudier, the wind picked up and rain threatened. At 44 miles I picked up a windbreaker which helped my upper body but my legs stayed stiff until I put on tights at mile 70. I also put on polypro and a fleece vest, and stashed some wool gloves in my pockets. After that, it was like starting fresh. The warmth immediately loosened up my muscles and I was relatively comfortable to the finish. I also changed my shoes at mile 70, even though I was having no problems with the Nike Air Max Triax's I was wearing. I put on a pair of the Nike Air Max Lite for the added cushioning and a change in foot plant, which I feel raised my comfort level for those final miles as well, and resulted in little soreness and stiffness the next day. Back to the unfolding of the race day events.... A woman from New York was storming the downhills in the early stages of the race, and I would pull up on the ascents. Barbara Bellows finished 5th woman overall and 2nd master. I lost track of her before reaching Suicide Six. As I found out later, I passed a number of women, Barbara included, in the aid stations where I never spend much time. I was not aware of this until mile 85 at Bill's Place when I noticed an elite-type runner sitting by the drop bags. It turned out to be Julie Arter from Arizona who I was then told had been in second place and going back and forth with Ellen McCurtin. I was in the top ten all day but, when my crew - Fred Pilon and Diane McNamara - tried to communicate standings to me, I ignored them (Sorry, Fred and Di!). I tried not to listen lest I get sucked into the competition. A few times I heard 4th or 5th but I was never quite sure, and did not want to have that interfere with concentrating on taking care of myself. Fred and Diane did a great job with my food, especially the fresh roasted turkey sandwiches on grain bread with grey poupon and a big leaf of green lettuce. A crowd at Pomfret/Route 12 got a big kick out of seeing me run down the road munching away on my sandwich and vanilla wafers. Diane and Fred had missed me at Stage Road where I planned to eat on the walk up Suicide. At Route 12 it was too flat to walk, so I ate and ran with my hands full. After Pomfret, on the trails down towards West Woodstock, I came upon Chris and Wayne Gibbons. We ran together off and on for about 10 miles. Wayne was not trained and Chris was still nursing an injury. I think they dropped out around 40-45 miles. Before and after them until Camp Ten Bear, I was pretty much alone. This happens to me often but I enjoy the solitude, especially in the woods. It's amazing how you can wile away the miles thinking about this and that, solving the problems of the world. I don't remember much about the Ten Bear Loop, except for running quite awhile with Derrick and Bruce Boyd from Connecticut. It was fun to see Derrick again and I taught him the "tree to tree" game. I was nervous about the threatening rain, and cold. I concentrated on eating and "ordered" some soup and a change of clothes for mile 70 at Gerry's, then plugged along continuously reminding myself of something John Medinger said to me the first time I ran VT100 - this is the part of the course where you "do the work." At times this loop seems endless. On the other hand, you can look forward to your second time through "party central" (the "Michigan Bluff of Vermont") and PICKING UP YOUR PACER!!! Diane was my official pacer. But I had another surprise waiting for me. My friend Donna Smyers whom I had trained for and done the Earth Journey 3-Day Triathlon with last summer showed up. She and Diane decided that Donna would pace the first 10 miles and then Diane would "finish me off." A few weeks before while Donna was doing the swim portion of the Lake Fairlee triathlon (I was there as part of a team), I put a funny dog face horn on her racing bike which makes a fairly obnoxious sound. She took it in good humor and came into the bike/run transition blasting the horn. When she started pacing me at Ten Bear, guess what she had with her? We ran swiftly for 10 miles with the threat of that horn in Donna's control. When Diane took over, we were on schedule for a sub-20 hour and all I had to do was maintain my steady pace. We ran into the aid station at Bill's. When I saw Julie Arter sitting there looking spent, I asked Fred what was going on. He told me I had taken over 2nd place and that the first place woman, Ellen McCurtin, was just minutes ahead. Diane and I burst with excitement and started roaring down the road out of Bill's. Fred chased us with words of warning, something to the effect of, "Now, girls, this is not the time to race. You still have 15 hard miles to go. Just stick to what you've been doing. It's moved you up all day." I looked at Di and said "he's right." Not only do we still have 15 miles in a 100 mile event, but it's getting dark, colder, and more craggy trails are coming. So we settled down, with smiles on our faces of course. It was dark as we entered the next to last woods section, a winding section of the course that I had covered early that morning and gotten turned around in. At about mile 94, Di stopped in her tracks and turned around looking at me wide-eyed. I thought, "What the h---? Is this going to be another encounter like at Western States three years ago when we bumped into a big black bear?" Di turned forward and I followed her look right into the eyes of Errol Jones. We had teased Errol incessantly the night before and said to him that he surely did not want me to pass him, and that he could never live that down back in his home state of California. Lo and behold, here he was, frozen on the trail with his pacer John Medinger trying to get him to move on. I hugged him and Di reminded him that he was into the "single digits" and it was no time to give up. Apparently, after we sailed by John appealed to Errol's "macho" and convinced him he could not let TWO women beat him. I was now ahead, along with Ellen McCurtin. Di and I left Errol in the woods ("left him to die on the trail" as he put it later) and stepped onto the dirt road which leads into the last aid station, a barn. At approximately 95 miles we saw her, Ellen and her pacer just ahead in the dark. We kidded about trying to disguise ourselves and "sneak" by so I wouldn't have to worry about racing. I tucked my braid into my vest and we ran by. Of course, I looked straight at her and she at me, and there was no hiding that another woman was going by. Just seconds or minutes later, Ellen and her pacer flew by us at what seemed like a storming pace and we followed them to the barn. I noticed they almost ran past the barn road and got pulled in. The course required us to run down to the barn door to check in and then back out. As Ellen was running back out, I ran in and at the check-in yelled "#77 coming in and going right back out." Ellen glanced at me. As I ran out, Errol was coming in. Diane and I crossed the road and headed uphill into a drive before what would lead into the last four miles of fields crossings and woods trails. Errol and John flew by us urging us to steam ahead and overtake Ellen. I held Di back and said it was too early. I was not about to blow up in the last few miles. I knew what was yet to come, some pretty hard climbs, winding, uneven trails and deep dark woods. We could keep track of Ellen's flashlight just ahead in the dark. Errol disappeared into the night. At about 98 miles we were climbing what feels like an enormous hill at that point in the event, and I could tell that Ellen was walking. I was jogging and we caught up to her at the crest of the hill. Di and I looked at each other, it was about 98.5 miles, and we knew it was time to go. Off we went, racing for the finish line. A half mile later it was clear that Ellen was not taking up the chase, and we started to ebulliently delight in the amazement of what had unfolded. We both decided it was a, if not the, highlight of our ultrarunning careers. Di told me how she and Fred had been watching the developments in the women's field all day, and the entertainment it afforded, especially with me as one of the players. I thought about catching Errol but could see no lights or movement ahead or behind. When we hit the last climb, Fred was on top with his camera. He took a shot, told us we had it and that he'd see us at the finish. We started hooting and hollering. I could hear Laura Farrell, Fred and John hooting back. We sounded like noisy Indians. Di almost crossed the finish line ahead of me and I almost fell coming down the last hill, we were so excited. It turned out that Errol finished just one minute ahead. Too bad -if he had only waited for me, we could have crossed the line together and "maybe" made the cover of Ultrarunning. Fred was there with his camera and, after all, Errol and I had been back-to-back UR profiles and favorite pacer/handlers. We got each other through Leadville. I finished in 19:33:35, a PR by 35 minutes. I felt better after this VT 100 than I've ever felt after a 100-miler. Some say it is the high of the win and the endorphins. I feel it was also the fact that I never ran outside my physical and mental capacities for the day. I clearly had alot more to give but I held back. Maybe I could or should have pushed, and maybe I could have grabbed the lead much sooner and/or ran in the 18 hours range. But maybe I would have blown up or come out of it injured or not had as enjoyable a finish. One never really knows. Each ultra experience is different, no matter how comparable your training and approach may be. Certainly my knowledge of the course helped me. I knew that it was too soon after leaving the barn for me to push. I knew what lay ahead. I also have a familiarity with that last section that helps alot mentally. Every time I have run the VT100, including this year's, I've gone out in the weeks before with friends for a "night run". We park at Smoke Rise farm at dusk and run the start and finish of the course, just to remind me of what's there. I find it helps to have no surprises and to have counted the hills that have to be climbed in those final four miles. I always think there is "one more hill" than there is. Must be my Mt. Washington mind set. I'm happy to find that I've anticipated one more than there actually is and the finish line seems closer each time then the year before, and far closer then the year I travelled it as Suzi Thibeault's pacer. Since Lou Peyton was with us up to the final two miles when I was pacing Suzi in 1988, it's fitting to be writing about this at her request. Both Lou and Suzi finished the Grand Slam that year, and the maiden VT100, along with Helen Klein and several others - the first year women had completed the Grand Slam and the first year that Vermont could be substituted for Old Dominion. There lies another coincidence since Laura Farrell, founder and director of VT 100, is a past winner of Old Dominion and has run both the OD trail run and the endurance ride. VT 100 is also a combination trail run and endurance ride 100. I love this event. I love the fact that it raises so much money for the physically disabled and that it takes place in our beautiful Vermont. I am thrilled to have become the first Vermonter to win the male or female division overall. I was thrilled at age 47 to have dueled it out with 30-year old Ellen McCurtin, a member of our National 100K Team. Ralph Swenson and I have done well over the years, finished in the top three and won the masters divisions, but this was the greatest! It was also thrilling to have Ralph set a new course record for Over 50 by 28 minutes, and to have snatched it away from California's premier ultrarunner Alfred Bogenhuber. Lastly, it was a three part thrill to have another Vermonter, Tony Treanor of Swanton, in his 100 mile debut, finish 2nd overall in the male division and win the male masters. It was a great year for Vermonters. A record 10 started and eight finished, all under 24 hours to earn the coveted silver buckle. I thank all my supporters, especially Diane and Fred. I loved all your notes, the flowers and the extended endorphin high from telling my story. Thanks!