Pre-Race
7 years ago, we attended the Jay Peak Trail series in northern Vermont with our neighbors, another family of runners with young children. Mr. P did the 25K (see finish line pic below), the rest of us including the kids did at least one 5K, but no one entertained the notion of doing the 50K, because how does one train for a mountain ultra as a working parent living in sea-level Boston metro? Let’s just say we were well-trained to climb up stairs for the slides in Jay Peak’s famed indoor water park.
My takeaway impression about the Jay Peak ultra had been that it was a brutal race, best suited for elite-level ultrarunners or masochists. In my mental filing cabinet of races, I filed it under “Nope Nope Nope”.
Then, 10 days before this year’s race, I received an Ultrasignup.com reminder email about a different race I was watching. At the bottom of the email, in the temptation gallery of upcoming races, the Jay Peak 51.3K was listed and I noticed it was the Sunday over Labor Day weekend, which is about when I was timing my big training prep for the Kilkenny 50-miler in September. 10,000 feet of elevation gain was a little more than I wanted to do two weeks out from a 50-miler, but logistically it worked and suddenly I was registered.
Race Morning: The Start
The Jay Peak trail series has a series of 5Ks on Saturday, and then on Sunday, the race distances are 11 miles, 22 miles, or 33 miles — how ever many times you want to complete the 11-mile loop (which used to be a 25K loop, 7 years ago). All runners line up for a 6:30am start time, shortly after sunrise (which was gorgeous this year and I should have taken a picture but I’m a bit burnt out on sunrise pics after 2020).
I arrived in the resort parking lot at 6am, having driven about 2 hours from our NH cabin, and picked up my bib in the tram cafeteria. I was the only one wearing a mask — surprising, because the last time I was in Vermont in Summer 2020, people were fanatical about masks. Frankly I was just trying to fit in as I didn’t feel at any point that there were any Covid risks with this race.
A mellow-sounding guy with dreadlocks made some pre-race announcements on a microphone right in front of the hotel, and then we lined up at the start and were off at 6:30am sharp. There were about maybe 100 runners so it felt low-key and relaxed.
Loop 1 (1-11 miles) (3 hours, 8 minutes)
The 11-mile loop starts with a 3 mile, roughly 2000ft climb to the top of Jay Peak. Most of the climb is in the woods, with rocks, roots, and stream crossings. We did venture out onto the ski trail mid-way and at first it’s nice to have a break from the technical terrain, but suddenly it’s a true nightmare of >30% grade calf-burning climbing up a ski trail.
At this point I was hiking easily and lurking behind a couple I actually knew from some other races. They are very sociable runners and bring a party everywhere they go, but I waited until that >30% grade climb to catch up to them and say hi. The couple remembered me and we chatted breathlessly the whole way up the rest of the mountain about races and our shared hatred of descending trail ladders in the White Mountains.
After we finally reached the aid station at the top of Jay Peak (where teenaged Jay Peak employees awaited with Gatorade and candy), the couple plus nearly everyone else around me bombed down the ski trail descent while I trotted daintily along, trying to preserve my quads.
At mile 4, another teenaged Jay Peak employee was directing runners under a hanging snow-making pipe onto another technical forest trail — the famed Long Trail of Vermont. This was the out-and-back section of the race (ie, the tail of the stingray). We descended about 1 mile and 700 ft to an aid station manned by middle-aged Jay Peak employees, and then turned around and climbed back up. There’s big rocks, little rocks, staircases, trees in the middle of the trail. Out and back Long Trail.
People around me were fading a bit but I kept moving, pushing as hard as I could while keeping my heart rate low. I spent the summer doing big hikes interspersed with many miles of Zone 2 running, so I knew finishing was certain if I kept in control.
After the Long Trail madness, miles 6-11 pretty much stick to ski trails and are relatively rolling. Some of the climbs feel somewhat gratituous but you’re on the ski trails, so there’s great views and easy footing. Somewhere along the way, there’s an aid station where inter-generational Jay Peak employees were frying up bacon, and I had a bacon/cookie sandwich, and then more climbing, more descending until I finally made it back to the start/finish. There were a ton of spectators that first loop — a lot of 11-miler finishers hanging out — and I felt pretty fabulous as they applauded and cheered. I grabbed some food from my drop-bag, ate pretzels, filled my bottles with Gatorade (a ton of Gatorade was drank that day), and headed out for Loop 2.
Loop 2 – Miles 11-22 (3 hours, 17 minutes)
I headed out of Loop 2 — the second 2000ft climb. I started out with another 33-miler, and we chatted for a bit until I gradually pulled away from him. On the nightmare ski trail climb, I passed 4 other runners and caught up to a very fit young woman, who I followed back into the woods for the continued push to the summit. She didn’t acknowledge me being behind her, and at first I was a little put off that she didn’t offer to let me pass since I was clearly moving better than her, but she actually started to move much better and we hiked together in silence for about ten minutes until we reached the final ski trail to the summit, and then she thanked me for giving her that push and we chatted as we power walked to the summit, then she simply bombed the downhill and looked great every time I saw her after (she was a 22-miler).
Aside from her, I seemed to be surrounded by carnage. I was towards the back of the pack, in terms of where a 33-miler should be in order to finish in the 11-hour cutoff. The Long Trail section definitely took a toll.
The second half of the second loop, the sun started to peek out from the clouds, and it got quite warm. I cursed myself for not carrying a hat or sunglasses because the ski trails are very exposed to sun. Fortunately it stayed mostly cloudy and there were cool wind blasts to remind me that I was in MF Vermont and I was running 33 miles so better have fun. I smiled and thanked spectators, bantered with volunteers and indentured Jay Peak employees, and finished the second loop with such a big smile that people assumed I was finished-finished.
Loop 3 – Miles 22-33 (3 hours, 34 minutes)
I admit being briefly tempted to stop, but I had about 4 and a half hours to complete the 3rd loop, which was more than doable given how okay I felt. Before I headed out, I changed my shirt and tried eating pretzels, but the Gatorade and cola was a lot more appealing.
I don’t think I encountered a single person on the third climb until the nightmare ski trail climb, where I passed another 3rd-looper. I got to the Jay Park Summit for the third and final time, and forced myself to masticate stale PB &J squares. “I have no business being out here!” I told the teenaged boy volunteers, and we all laughed together. It was only funny because I said it during the third loop…
It was around here I took the first and only picture of the race.
As I made the third and last descent of the Long Trail section, I encountered a younger woman hiker with a regal dog who gave me encouragement. She spoke with a Northern European accent. “Whatever you do, don’t quit! Don’t give up!” she implored me, which was part amusing, part annoying that she assumed I was on the brink of collapse. But I loved seeing all of the hikers and especially an older couple who smiled at me and said I was amazing, because I felt pretty amazing.
The giddy “ultra tipsy” feeling was in full effect for the entirety of the third loop, probably due to the lack of substantive food. I really could have used a turkey and cheese sandwich. I kept moving, less and less aware of my body, more involved in what my brain had to say about it. Ultra is very mental and the only way to prepare for it is to be in it. Something bordering on transcendent began to happen past mile 29. Keep moving, keep sipping the Gatorade.
As the miles ticked away, I felt pretty confident that I’d finish in around 10 hours. I flew through the aid stations, stopping only to get more Gatorade. I wasn’t moving as fast at the second loop and could definitely feel soreness creeping into my quads, which made me more cautious on the downhills.
But eventually I made it. By then, the finish line area was pretty deserted and there was barely anyone to kindly clap for me as I crossed in exactly 10 hours. I didn’t care though, just happy to be finished. The race director gave me a finisher’s visor and a windbreaker.
Then a Jay Peak employee brought me two slices of pizza. He was wearing a Wawa t-shirt, so of course I struck up a conversation about Pennsylvania, and we chatted about how our respective lives took us from growing up outside of Philadelphia to the base of Jay Peak. It actually wasn’t the first time that day I had considered this life journey.
So in sum, I no longer think the Jay Peak 33-miler with 11,000 ft elevation gain (according to my watch) is only for elite ultra-marathoners or masochists, because I am not either of those things. But you better be either well-trained or young & athletically gifted because the climbs never stop…
