Seeking the Runner's High: My 2019 Race to the Top of Vermont

I’m seeking a runner’s high, 3,850 feet of height to be exact. That’s the elevation at the top of the Mount Mansfield toll road. The summit of Mount Mansfield (Vermont’s highest mountain) is located at 4,393 feet. However, the toll road begins at the base of the mountain in Stowe and takes you to 3,850 feet, which is still plenty of altitude. Today’s mission is not to drive up the mountain but to ascend it using muscles, not motors. Some will choose to cycle and some will hike, but most (myself included) opt to run.

This is the Race to theTop of Vermont, a race dubbed as; The Hardest Race ANYONE can do. Anyone willing to accept the challenge of climbing the 4.3 mile toll road (with an average incline grade of 12% ) and register before the cap of 800 participants is met can partake in the event.

I participated in this event for the first time in 2018 and enjoyed it tremendously. That’s right! You read that correctly, I got enjoyment from running up a mountain. But, before you call me crazy, read on and you'll find out why.

I’ll admit it did seem like a somewhat daunting challenge, especially when doing it for the first time. So why did I enjoy it so much? Well, first of all there is the beauty of being in the mountains. The elevation combined with nature gives one a fresh perspective on the world. Its beauty is evident and the elevation can make day to day stressors seem small.  Secondly, the feelings of empowerment that accompany completion of such a challenge transitions into everyday life, providing strength and perseverance to deal with the challenges life throws our way. So, here I am back for more.

My goals today are to make it to the top and enjoy the experience with minimal walking. I’d also like to stay within shouting distance of last year’s time of 49 minutes. I haven’t done much in the way of hill training this year, let alone any mountain running, so I’m not anticipating being able to best that time. If, however, I can be within two to three minutes of it I’ll be pleased.

The “30 seconds until the start” announcement is made. As the seconds tick down my excitement goes up. The countdown finally reaches zero. We are off and running! The course starts off with a steep climb of roughly a 12% grade, so avoiding succumbing to the temptation of going out fast is wise. Fortunately, I learned this in advance last year (the hard way) by doing just that. In preparation for the race I did a training run up the mountain; starting too aggresively, I ended up walking before I had even gone one mile.

After about two-tenths of a mile the course transitions from pavement to dirt and levels off significantly. Don’t get me wrong, there is still plenty of elevation to climb (this is a mountain after all) but the incline is more gradual. The course winds its way up and up through switchback after switchback with frequent fluctuation in the percent grade. Our journey takes us through an abundance of wooded areas with occasional clearings providing views of ski trails and ski lifts which rest in solitude as they await the busy winter months. At about two miles we are greeted by a charming mountain chapel.

As the course winds its way further up the mountain I find myself needing to take a walk break at about the 2 ½ mile mark. The break isn’t long (only about 15 seconds) but it provides just enough of a recovery to help me start running again and power myself up and around the next switchback. (I jokingly tell people I signed up for this race because I heard there would be a lot of Switchbacks, which is in reference to the ale brewed in Burlington, VT)

At just over 3 miles the course opens up to stunning views of Mansfield and the surrounding mountains. If I wasn’t running I would say the views were breathtaking, but since I’ve been running on an incline for 30 minutes my breath has already been taken.

The positive imagery of the landscape comes at just the right time as it provides a beautiful distraction from the steepest part of the course directly ahead. After several seconds of taking in the sight of the amazing mountainous landscape to my right I decide I need to face reality. As I turn to look straight ahead the reality is the steep incline that awaits me. I can see about two-tenths of mile of the toll road, which does nothing but go straight up.  I don’t know the specific grade of this portion, but it is well over the twelve percent average. It’s got to be at least in the high teens though since some sections of the course are less than 12 percent. Regardless of the numbers, it’s steep!

I tell myself to make forward progress by any means necessary. There are numerous poles serving various functions along the side of the road in this section. I decide to make them my focal points. Run to the first pole then focus on the next. Like climbing a ladder rung by rung these poles are my short term goals helping me get to the top. I walk 3 times up this steep section but keep each walking segment very short so as to not lose momentum.

Chug, chug, chug I think I can, I think I can…I keep chugging away and moving forward. At last, I reach the top of the steepest section but as the course rounds a corner the climbing continues. I can only see the next turn and nothing more. I know that the course levels off soon, but when?  Chug, chug, chug I think I can, I think I can…

I hear slightly muffled cheering. I’m getting close! Not to the top, but to the point where the incline levels off, which happens to be my favorite spot in the race and occurs at 3.7 miles. It’s not my favorite because of the welcome change in terrain (although this helps) but because of the multitude of emotions I feel and the delight brought to my senses.  A spectacular perspective of the top of Mount Mansfield is visible at this point which shows its contours, ski trails, hiking trails, and rocky ridgeline. The cheering from the spectators, race officials, and volunteers lining the course brings enthusiasm to my tired legs. Knowing that there is only .6 miles until the finish, with the hardest part behind me fills my heart with excitement. All of these factors combine to create a feeling of complete exhilaration!

The final .6 miles finds my running resembling something of a makeshift fartlek run, with my pace varying frequently to correspond with the varying level of power my legs can provide. The road is straight but of course continues to go up with periodic short steeper inclines. The road then makes repeated S-turns with a sharp increase in grade at each one. A musical duo playing guitar and violin provides entertainment at the first turn. I remember them from last year, the finish is around this bend. Ugh! No it’s not!  It’s around the next one, it’s got to be! I can hear it. I can hear cheering. I’m getting close. The road goes straight for a short stretch and then turns to the left. Rounding that left turn I can see the finishing chute. Yes! I gather up the remaining power I have in my legs and kick to the finish, finishing in 51 minutes.

Although I finished 2 minutes slower than last year I was close enough to it to feel satisfied with my performance.  Now it’s time to enjoy the runner’s high. With endorphins aplenty and a spectacular view from the elevation this is a literal and figurative high. 

Recently, I watched the award winning documentary Free Solo about Alex Honnold’s historic climb of El Capitan. There is a scene in which his brain activity is tested and it is discovered that he has practically no activity in his amygdala. The amygdala is the region of the brain which processes fear and sends out signals to trigger the fight or flight response. With this in mind, it makes sense that he excels at the sport of climbing. While he is at heights that would make the average person shutter in fear, his brain is telling his body everything is fine, so he remains calm.

I summited this mountain a different way and for the opposite reason. My amygdala is quite active, and so I run. Running is quite literally the flight response.  It quiets the sensations in the brain which scream that danger is present. Running tells the body the safety is near and all will be okay.  It helps the brain slow down the pace of the thoughts that race through it every day and helps it focus on just being in the moment. 

Being in the mountains has the added benefit of bringing perspective to life. Things that we stress about on a daily basis are often molehills that we are viewing as mountains. Being in the actual mountains brings this fact to light. Too often we become consumed with our day to day tasks. We hustle here and hustle there not paying attention to the beauty that surrounds us. Running to the top of Vermont is also a wonderful reminder of how much beauty we are missing if we don’t look up every once and while.

  

Getting Comfortable With Discomfort: The importance of stepping out of your comfort zone.

“This isn’t comfortable anymore!” my client Kristin declared in the midst of running the Green Mountain Half Marathon in South Hero, VT.  Our once comfortable pace was now becoming a bit more challenging for her and even the beautiful scenery along the shores of Lake Champlain weren’t enough of a distraction from the discomfort associated with the increased effort.  Her goal was to break 2 hours, which she had last done 10 years ago with a time of 1:59. Going sub 2 hours again would be such an empowering accomplishment for her that she asked me to help pace her through the entire race. Recognizing how important it was to her I couldn’t say no.

Maintaining our pace was becoming a bit more laborious for her, although based on her ability to still converse with me it was still reasonable. I replied; “It’s not supposed to be comfortable!” We continued on our way, reaching the half way point right on target to go sub 2 hours. The course meandered through the Vermont countryside with continual breathtaking views on both sides of the road. Besides the scenic vista of Lake Champlain we also passed lakeside cottages, farmhouses, fields with cattle or horses, apple orchards, a winery, and even a birdhouse forest (with a random dinosaur patroling the land).

All of these sights provided a wonderful distraction from the physical demands of racing.  Overall our pace fluctuated a bit with the terrain changes, but when we reached the 10 mile mark we were on target to run a 1:57. I had avoided telling Kristin where we were at pace-wise as she seemed to be locked in to a bit of a zone and I didn’t want to interrupt her concentration. However, once we reached 10 miles I let our progress be known to her. I could tell she was starting to struggle a bit more to keep the pace so I wanted to let her know she was doing well. “We have 30 minutes to cover 3 miles. This is going to happen! You just have to hang in there and keep moving” She accepted this news with delight.

Ahead of us at mile 11 was the biggest challenge of the day, a hill about ¾ of a mile long which climbed steadily up to the 12 mile mark. At 12 miles it would be either flat or downhill to the finish. “When we get to the hill don’t worry about speed”, I instructed her.  “Just keep moving! You don’t want to burn yourself out on the hill and have nothing left for the finish”.

As we got to the hill I thought of the children’s classic book. The Little Engine That Could in which the little engine repeatedly told himself “I think I can” when attempting to climb a hill.  Although I like the little engine’s “can-do” attitude, the words “I think” leave the door open for doubt. While inspirational indeed, I did one better and uttered the words, “I know I can” to Kristin. As in, this is what you need to tell yourself to ensure success.

Steadily we climbed, breaking the hill up into increments, focusing on going from tree to tree, signpost to signpost. I spied a street sign ahead in the distance which marked the intersection with South Street where we would turn left and reach the 12 mile mark. I pointed out the sign to her; “That’s the top of the hill right there. Keep it up, we’re almost there!”

Shortly thereafter we reached the summit and joyously made the turn. As we reached the 1 mile to go sign I turned to Kristin and said; “You have 11 minutes to make it one mile. This is going to happen but you can’t get cocky and slow down.” She chuckled a little bit at the thought of getting cocky, but the message was obviously received and understood. Pulling in front of her I acted as her rabbit to chase to the finish. I mentioned that the final mile is flat and downhill (a gradual downhill but downhill nonetheless), but it is also straight. This means the finish line is like a mirage in the distance, never seeming to get closer. So, we initiated the same tactic as on the uphill climb, taking it tree to tree, sign to sign, or house to house until finally the finish was upon us. Kristin dug deep to kick to the finish in 1:58. Mission accomplished! But it was more than just a sub 2 hour performance. She also set a PR, besting her time from 10 years ago by one minute.

After taking a few minutes to absorb the magnitude of what she’d just accomplished she said to me; “I get it, I get it now!” I often tell people, and I’ve also stated this in earlier blog posts, that running is a metaphor for life. Exactly how, is what she now gets. Earlier in the race I told her that it’s not supposed to be comfortable. That is true in running as it in life.  If you want to become a faster runner, than you need to have times when you run at a faster pace, which isn’t comfortable. But, this allows you to acclimate to the faster pace and raise your threshold for what is considered uncomfortable.

In life, we sometimes go through challenging times, but these challenging times make us stronger. We learn and grow in the process, improving our capabilities for handling adversity. There are periods of comfort in running and in life, which are necessary. However, if we never leave our comfort zone we never grow stronger. Our accomplishments are limited and we never find out that we are capable of far more than we imagined.

I also stated on the hill that the goal was just to keep moving.  It’s very easy to fall into the mindset that we need to have quick progress when we are working toward an objective. We think that, when making an effort to accomplish something, if results don’t happen quickly they are not going to happen at all. But success doesn’t happen quickly, especially when what we are pursuing is a challenging goal. But if we place emphasis on just making forward progress, we find that what once seemed unattainable, is in fact, within reach.  

We should not be afraid to experience discomfort. Actually, we should become comfortable with it. Discomfort by definition does not imply comfort. But, when experiencing it, if we recognize and understand its value than we can accept it as a necessary process for making life a wonderful adventure. For without it, we don’t have the contrast that allows us to make the good times great, or to experience the thrill of high achievement. We end up just existing instead of truly living.