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Alan, Kyle, and Sapan at the Boston finish line after bib pickup
by Sapan Bhatt
The Boston Marathon is a cornerstone of the Northeast running calendar. As the region's own "Hometown Major," it feels especially personal—made even more intimate by the fact that it is held on Patriots' Day, a holiday celebrated only in Maine and Massachusetts.
That personal connection was apparent when I serendipitously ran into friends Alan and Kyle from the Maine Harriers running club at the Sunday Expo the day before the race back in April. We made our way around the convention floor, stopping by booths from Shokz and Maurten. Being a bit of a treadmill aficionado, the highlight for me was seeing the machine on which Ashley Paulson broke the 100-mile treadmill record (12:47:10) in a live event just the previous day.
After a quick photo at the finish line and my ritual stop at the Lindt store to sample their "flavor of the day" truffle (strawberry cheesecake, which was on point), I headed to my parents' house to get some rest.
In addition to buses shuttling runners from Boston to the start in Hopkinton, the marathon offers several parking lots in Hopkinton with shuttles to Athletes’ Village and back from the finish line. This is a great feature because it greatly expands where you can stay before the race. I saw many hotels around the Hopkinton area for under $200/night for marathon weekend, which is half of what you’ll find in downtown Boston.
My parents dropped me off at one of these lots on race morning. Conditions were brisk with temps starting in the low 30s. I wrapped myself in an old winter jacket and took a shuttle bus to Athletes’ Village. Athletes’ Village is a sprawling complex about 0.75 miles from the start line. Even with my early arrival being part of the first wave, the village was full of runners. I think the distance to the start is perfect for a warm-up, but the village itself is a bit overwhelming. I made my way over to my start corral and ran into fellow Strider and my Boston training partner, Rich Drown. It was great to share some encouragement and positive vibes with him and the runners around us as we waited the final minutes for the start of our Boston voyage.
That first mile is a generous downhill (100-foot drop), but it takes five to six miles for space to open up. Weaving through runners, we went through that first mile in 6:26 where my goal was 6:10s for a 2:42 finish. I upped the pace as Rich and I searched to find the right group and space to settle in. One augmentation that worked well for me was I made a disposable water bottle out of a restaurant squeeze bottle and rubber band. This allowed me to take fluids and fuel during the first half of the race while minimizing trips with the herd to the water stations. I was able to focus on finding a groove in the center of the road and getting comfortable, rather than thinking about the next aid station.
To me, running in a major marathon seems like how a fish perceives swimming in a large school. Various arrangements of runners (like six moving in sync in a perfect row) would form and disperse as this river of humanity made its way to Boylston Street. The crowds were as lively and raucous as the previous year. A friend told me that as a runner at Boston, you’re the star that day and the spectators and volunteers make you feel it.
The Wellesley Scream tunnel punctuated the first half with a wall of sounds spiking your adrenaline as co-eds strained across the barriers to get a high-five. The body and fueling were doing well through the first half, but I knew the Newton Hills would be the test. The year prior, I cramped at the summit of Heartbreak Hill and had to fight the final five miles to get across the finish. Moving through the hills this year, I felt stronger and fresher, which I attribute to more outdoor workout with intervals at the later miles. I was able to get to the top of Heartbreak with energy in the tank and then stepped on the gas.
Sapan with friend Jonah after the race
The final five miles are mostly downhill with the crowds building significantly once you pass Boston College. I used the Hoka motto "Fly Human Fly" as my mantra as I gauged the distance with my remaining energy levels to ensure I maintained control. I remember the crowd being eerily quiet and still along Boylston Street, maybe as a reaction to seeing so many humans pushing with every bit of energy they have to cover that last 400 meters. I spied the clock in the corner reading 2:41, which made me excited that I reached my goal.
It was a good 15 minutes before I realized that the clock was marking the start of Corral 1 and having started later in Corral 4, I had actually run a 2:39. The result exceeded my expectations and redefined what I believed possible for myself. At the finish, I ran into my friend Jonah, with whom I’ve twice run Millinocket. I first met him as he was getting off the shuttle bus at Stearns High School, so it was fitting to see him as he was boarding another shuttle bus to return to Hopkinton.
Boston 2026 was a fantastic experience and not just because of the conditions or the time I ran. It was the first race I’ve been in which my parents spectated, and I cherish the opportunity to reconnect with friends and meet new ones who share this passion. Shout out to Striders members Rich, Kristina, and Lindsay for running great races (if I’m omitting anyone, congratulations to you too!) and thank you to Patrick, Billy, and all the Striders who came down to cheer. See you next year, Boston!
Sapan in his parents' driveway post-race
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by Ron Peck
Date: June 21, 2025
Location: Fort William, Scotland
Last summer, I spent nine days walking the West Highland Way, a beautiful 96-mile trek through western Scotland, with my fiancée, Julie Millard. We finished in the city of Fort William and celebrated by sharing drinks and stories with a few friends we had met on the trail. The next day was my 50th birthday, and I wanted to commemorate it by dipping my toe into the local culture of “fell” running. Fell running is a sport originating in Scotland that isn’t just trail running; in fact, there often aren’t trails of any kind. It’s a scramble across “fells” (high, often trackless hills) where racers are expected to traverse bogs, thick heather, and VERY steep gradients. The Eagles Crag Hill Race, organized by the Lochaber Athletic Club, was a relatively short fell race: a mere 8.6 km out-and-back that included a small section of the West Highland Way. I naïvely thought that anything under 10 km couldn’t be THAT challenging.
Date: June 21, 2025
Location: Fort William, Scotland
Last summer, I spent nine days walking the West Highland Way, a beautiful 96-mile trek through western Scotland, with my fiancée, Julie Millard. We finished in the city of Fort William and celebrated by sharing drinks and stories with a few friends we had met on the trail. The next day was my 50th birthday, and I wanted to commemorate it by dipping my toe into the local culture of “fell” running. Fell running is a sport originating in Scotland that isn’t just trail running; in fact, there often aren’t trails of any kind. It’s a scramble across “fells” (high, often trackless hills) where racers are expected to traverse bogs, thick heather, and VERY steep gradients. The Eagles Crag Hill Race, organized by the Lochaber Athletic Club, was a relatively short fell race: a mere 8.6 km out-and-back that included a small section of the West Highland Way. I naïvely thought that anything under 10 km couldn’t be THAT challenging.
Julie, graciously accompanying me for emotional support, and I walked to the race start about two miles outside of Fort William. We followed a single-lane road seemingly going nowhere through fields thick with sheep. Just when I thought that we were completely in the wrong location, a small van parked ahead of us and a few wiry figures in running gear hopped out. The check-in was a foldout table staffed by a few friendly volunteers. After paying my entry fee (a real bargain at £5!), I asked how the course was marked. They assured me that “it was very
hard to get lost.” A fellow racer overheard the conversation and handed me a map of the area which didn’t alleviate my fears as a navigationally-challenged runner.
A few minutes later, about 25 runners gathered at the starting line. The race director pointed to a blurry silhouette on the horizon. “Just go toward Graham at the top of the hill,” she cheerfully instructed. “Then you’ll head down to the trail.” I assumed that we weren’t going to go all the way to that tiny speck (was it even a person?), and that there surely would be some turnoff to a smaller hill before then.
hard to get lost.” A fellow racer overheard the conversation and handed me a map of the area which didn’t alleviate my fears as a navigationally-challenged runner.
A few minutes later, about 25 runners gathered at the starting line. The race director pointed to a blurry silhouette on the horizon. “Just go toward Graham at the top of the hill,” she cheerfully instructed. “Then you’ll head down to the trail.” I assumed that we weren’t going to go all the way to that tiny speck (was it even a person?), and that there surely would be some turnoff to a smaller hill before then.
The start was deceptively easy. I felt fine for the first few minutes, but we quickly moved off any recognizable trail and the world tilted upward. Soon, everyone switched from running to a crouched walk. My calves began to burn intensely, and I regretted my overconfident start. Eventually, the slope became so aggressive that we were on our hands and knees scrabbling towards the ridge. When I finally reached the top, the local runners immediately accelerated into a sprint while I had to take a few moments to stand and catch my breath.
The descent was a revelation in Scottish toughness and bravery. The other runners flew straight down the hill, using the thick vegetation—a mix of heather, grass, and ferns—to catch their weight with each step. I was quickly gapped and found myself alone, eventually hitting a section of the West Highland Way. Seeing no one in front or behind me, I forlornly studied the map and decided to just keep going along the trail. I was greatly relieved when I reached a race marshal who pointed me off the trail and back over the hill I had just descended.
The final stretch was a gauntlet of obstacles. I encountered fences topped with barbed wire and, seeing no gates, had to climb over them before hurrying across pastures of disinterested sheep. There were long stretches of tangled thickets that I just had to claw through. At one point, I was sure that I was completely lost, but I eventually spotted some shapes (fellow racers, I hoped) moving uphill in the distance. I started pausing to rest after every step. My watch, unhelpfully, repeatedly asked if I was finished with the workout. I finally crested the ridge again
from the opposite direction, received a high-five from a volunteer, and began the quad-burning stumble back to the start. The finish line sat just across a burn (small stream). I didn't even bother looking for a dry path and splashed straight through the water to finish in just under two hours.
The descent was a revelation in Scottish toughness and bravery. The other runners flew straight down the hill, using the thick vegetation—a mix of heather, grass, and ferns—to catch their weight with each step. I was quickly gapped and found myself alone, eventually hitting a section of the West Highland Way. Seeing no one in front or behind me, I forlornly studied the map and decided to just keep going along the trail. I was greatly relieved when I reached a race marshal who pointed me off the trail and back over the hill I had just descended.
The final stretch was a gauntlet of obstacles. I encountered fences topped with barbed wire and, seeing no gates, had to climb over them before hurrying across pastures of disinterested sheep. There were long stretches of tangled thickets that I just had to claw through. At one point, I was sure that I was completely lost, but I eventually spotted some shapes (fellow racers, I hoped) moving uphill in the distance. I started pausing to rest after every step. My watch, unhelpfully, repeatedly asked if I was finished with the workout. I finally crested the ridge again
from the opposite direction, received a high-five from a volunteer, and began the quad-burning stumble back to the start. The finish line sat just across a burn (small stream). I didn't even bother looking for a dry path and splashed straight through the water to finish in just under two hours.
The awards ceremony was fun, although humbling. The prizes for age groups were bottles of local beer which looked very appealing to my exhausted body. Despite being the youngest in the age group, I didn’t manage to make it into the top three in the 50-59 category. However, the race director had mercy on me and gave me a prize for just being there. Even better, we didn’t have to walk back to town as we were given a ride from a veteran fell runner. He mentioned that this run was part of his training for the upcoming race up and down Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in Britain. I can’t even imagine, but maybe someday…
The Eagles Crag Hill Race wasn’t my most outstanding run, but it was a memorable way to mark a significant birthday. I left with two tired and scratched legs, a bit of a bruised ego, and massive respect for the fell runners of Scotland.
The Eagles Crag Hill Race wasn’t my most outstanding run, but it was a memorable way to mark a significant birthday. I left with two tired and scratched legs, a bit of a bruised ego, and massive respect for the fell runners of Scotland.
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by Sapan Bhatt
I can’t think of a better race to start the year than the January Thaw. Coming off the holidays it’s a great opportunity to come together and see faces both new and familiar.
This year's edition saw 22-degree crisp air and roads which were a bit slushy in spots. It’s fun to scroll back through old Thaw photos and see it’s truly a roll of the dice what type of weather we get. But that keeps it interesting.
Start of the 4.5-mile race, you’re working to catch your breath in the cold. I found the strip of asphalt in the middle to be the most stable. I took the liberty of going a little bit into the road on the first climb. I received a supportive honk from a plow truck and was amused at the sight he was about to see of a herd of runners coming up the hill.
The road in mile 2 has a camber that would make Sugarloaf blush. The bit of downhill was a welcome reprieve from the initial climb. Mile 3 is always the trickiest. It’s a steady climb instead of one big hill to punch up. I kept looking at my feet as Billy and I slogged through it.
The next thing I knew, I saw Lindsay shouting encouragement and directing the turn down that big hill to start Mile 4. The slush made the road a bit more precarious than years past, but offered a fun ride. My favorite view on the course was where Alicia was perched taking our great race photos. That sweeping view of the horizon before you make the last turn back into the school road, amazes me every time. It was especially pretty this year with the wind whipping snow into the air.
The after event was a lot of fun. I especially enjoyed getting photos with Ian and his penguin suit and chatting with fellow racers. Many thanks to all the volunteers, our race director Ron, volunteer coordinator Tom, and especially Julie for crafting such beautiful penguin trophies. Here’s to a great year of running for all!
I can’t think of a better race to start the year than the January Thaw. Coming off the holidays it’s a great opportunity to come together and see faces both new and familiar.
This year's edition saw 22-degree crisp air and roads which were a bit slushy in spots. It’s fun to scroll back through old Thaw photos and see it’s truly a roll of the dice what type of weather we get. But that keeps it interesting.
Start of the 4.5-mile race, you’re working to catch your breath in the cold. I found the strip of asphalt in the middle to be the most stable. I took the liberty of going a little bit into the road on the first climb. I received a supportive honk from a plow truck and was amused at the sight he was about to see of a herd of runners coming up the hill.
The road in mile 2 has a camber that would make Sugarloaf blush. The bit of downhill was a welcome reprieve from the initial climb. Mile 3 is always the trickiest. It’s a steady climb instead of one big hill to punch up. I kept looking at my feet as Billy and I slogged through it.
The next thing I knew, I saw Lindsay shouting encouragement and directing the turn down that big hill to start Mile 4. The slush made the road a bit more precarious than years past, but offered a fun ride. My favorite view on the course was where Alicia was perched taking our great race photos. That sweeping view of the horizon before you make the last turn back into the school road, amazes me every time. It was especially pretty this year with the wind whipping snow into the air.
The after event was a lot of fun. I especially enjoyed getting photos with Ian and his penguin suit and chatting with fellow racers. Many thanks to all the volunteers, our race director Ron, volunteer coordinator Tom, and especially Julie for crafting such beautiful penguin trophies. Here’s to a great year of running for all!
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by Ian Hepburn
In September I and fellow Strider Nick Erickson took part in the Ragnar Reach the Beach Relay Race on a team with 10 other runners. This event began in Lancaster, New Hampshire, early on Friday, September 12, and ended at Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, the next day. The course covered 204 miles split into 36 segments, which equated to three legs per runner for our team.
The race is similar in structure to the Downeast Sunrise Trail Relay, in that racers run their leg while their teammates drive to the next handoff point, and the team runs continually, day and night, until their last runner crosses the finish line. However, this race is twice as long as DESTR (204-ish miles versus DESTR’s 102.7), and teams have a size limit of 12 runners instead of eight. Teams also must have two vehicles, with half of the team in each vehicle.
The concept is for one van with six runners to cover the first six legs, while the second van leapfrogs ahead to the van exchange point at the start of leg seven. When the first van arrives at the van exchange point, they recover their runner then drive the next van exchange at the end of leg 12, while the second van covers legs 7-12. The pattern repeats for all 36 legs, with van exchange points at the end of legs 6, 12, 18, 24, 30, and at the finish line at the end of leg 36.
Each runner runs an average of 17 miles in total, although variations in the course mean some will run more or less than that (I ended up running 11.2 miles, but I did have one of the steepest climbs in the course on my first leg).
Another major difference between DESTR and Reach the Beach is the number of participants. DESTR is limited to 400 racers to protect the Downeast Sunrise Trail from overuse, while Reach the Beach runs almost exclusively on roads and is not subject to a cap on participants. This year, 308 teams ran Reach the Beach, putting the number of racers well over 2,000.
The number of racers poses some major logistical challenges for the race organizers. Fortunately, the Ragnar races are pretty well staffed and equipped and have experience planning events like this across the country. Every handoff point and van exchange location was chosen to ensure there would be plenty of parking available and sufficient space to ensure the safety of runners and observers. Vendors were invited to be present at van exchanges points, so that in their downtime racers could get food, beverages, sports massages, and race swag.
I ran as part of Team Lavi, named after an orphanage in Haiti that was sponsored by our team captain and her husband. The naming of most of the relay teams present at Reach the Beach was very much like a list of pub trivia teams, mostly puns and some self-effacing humor. There was also a very robust “van culture” present at this race. Each team requires two vehicles that can accommodate at least six people, so most teams rent large passenger vans like the GMC Savana or Ford Transit. As a result, most teams end up driving a big white van that looks like every other big white van. To counter this, most teams get washable paint markers and draw all over their vans to make them visually distinct. Some teams even get custom magnets made, and will trade magnets with other teams, or try to “tag” other vans with their magnets.
A common theme for marking vans is to list the runners’ names next to check boxes that get marked off as they complete their legs. A lot of teams will use the rear of their vans to count their “kills”, which is the number of runners that their team collectively pass on each leg. I told my van mates that I thought the word kill was overly dramatic and that we should find another euphemism, so they decided that a “souls harvested” counter would be a better alternative. I disagreed, but I was outnumbered…
Team Lavi ended up completing the race in 30:24:59, placing 96th overall and 8th in our class (Standard Mixed Team-Open), with an average mile time of 8:56. Overall I had a great time and recommend the Ragnar Reach the Beach relay with the caveat that it is expensive. Registration fees can range close to $200 per registrant, especially if you wait until the last minute to sign up. Additionally, teams need to reserve rental vans early, because this event uses up pretty much all of the large passenger vans available to rental agencies in New England. If you like long-haul relays like DESTR, then I recommend checking out the Reach the Beach relay, or any other Ragnar relay event.
In September I and fellow Strider Nick Erickson took part in the Ragnar Reach the Beach Relay Race on a team with 10 other runners. This event began in Lancaster, New Hampshire, early on Friday, September 12, and ended at Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, the next day. The course covered 204 miles split into 36 segments, which equated to three legs per runner for our team.
The race is similar in structure to the Downeast Sunrise Trail Relay, in that racers run their leg while their teammates drive to the next handoff point, and the team runs continually, day and night, until their last runner crosses the finish line. However, this race is twice as long as DESTR (204-ish miles versus DESTR’s 102.7), and teams have a size limit of 12 runners instead of eight. Teams also must have two vehicles, with half of the team in each vehicle.
The concept is for one van with six runners to cover the first six legs, while the second van leapfrogs ahead to the van exchange point at the start of leg seven. When the first van arrives at the van exchange point, they recover their runner then drive the next van exchange at the end of leg 12, while the second van covers legs 7-12. The pattern repeats for all 36 legs, with van exchange points at the end of legs 6, 12, 18, 24, 30, and at the finish line at the end of leg 36.
Each runner runs an average of 17 miles in total, although variations in the course mean some will run more or less than that (I ended up running 11.2 miles, but I did have one of the steepest climbs in the course on my first leg).
Another major difference between DESTR and Reach the Beach is the number of participants. DESTR is limited to 400 racers to protect the Downeast Sunrise Trail from overuse, while Reach the Beach runs almost exclusively on roads and is not subject to a cap on participants. This year, 308 teams ran Reach the Beach, putting the number of racers well over 2,000.
The number of racers poses some major logistical challenges for the race organizers. Fortunately, the Ragnar races are pretty well staffed and equipped and have experience planning events like this across the country. Every handoff point and van exchange location was chosen to ensure there would be plenty of parking available and sufficient space to ensure the safety of runners and observers. Vendors were invited to be present at van exchanges points, so that in their downtime racers could get food, beverages, sports massages, and race swag.
I ran as part of Team Lavi, named after an orphanage in Haiti that was sponsored by our team captain and her husband. The naming of most of the relay teams present at Reach the Beach was very much like a list of pub trivia teams, mostly puns and some self-effacing humor. There was also a very robust “van culture” present at this race. Each team requires two vehicles that can accommodate at least six people, so most teams rent large passenger vans like the GMC Savana or Ford Transit. As a result, most teams end up driving a big white van that looks like every other big white van. To counter this, most teams get washable paint markers and draw all over their vans to make them visually distinct. Some teams even get custom magnets made, and will trade magnets with other teams, or try to “tag” other vans with their magnets.
A common theme for marking vans is to list the runners’ names next to check boxes that get marked off as they complete their legs. A lot of teams will use the rear of their vans to count their “kills”, which is the number of runners that their team collectively pass on each leg. I told my van mates that I thought the word kill was overly dramatic and that we should find another euphemism, so they decided that a “souls harvested” counter would be a better alternative. I disagreed, but I was outnumbered…
Team Lavi ended up completing the race in 30:24:59, placing 96th overall and 8th in our class (Standard Mixed Team-Open), with an average mile time of 8:56. Overall I had a great time and recommend the Ragnar Reach the Beach relay with the caveat that it is expensive. Registration fees can range close to $200 per registrant, especially if you wait until the last minute to sign up. Additionally, teams need to reserve rental vans early, because this event uses up pretty much all of the large passenger vans available to rental agencies in New England. If you like long-haul relays like DESTR, then I recommend checking out the Reach the Beach relay, or any other Ragnar relay event.
Some of Team Lavi's van art
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Mark Fisher, Chris Chadwick, John McGinty, Dean Rasmussen, Peter Leone
by Mark Fisher
Another year of the Mount Washington Road Race is in the books. Given the low temperatures and winds, the race officials decided to take a cautious approach and halt the June 14th race at the halfway point on the auto road. While it was disappointing to see the race cut short this year, it was a reasonable approach given the risks that are part of changing weather on the “rock pile”.
First, Central Maine Striders showed up in force on Friday night to support the volunteer effort with parking duty. Linda Fisher, Peter Leone, Ron Paquette, Donnajean Pohlman, Beth Bridger, and Jay Bachelder all provided directional parking guidance for three-plus hours on Friday evening. Providing these volunteers allows the club to secure five bypass entries to the race each year (all club bypass entries were used this year). Thank you so much, volunteers, for supporting the club and this amazing event!
Another year of the Mount Washington Road Race is in the books. Given the low temperatures and winds, the race officials decided to take a cautious approach and halt the June 14th race at the halfway point on the auto road. While it was disappointing to see the race cut short this year, it was a reasonable approach given the risks that are part of changing weather on the “rock pile”.
First, Central Maine Striders showed up in force on Friday night to support the volunteer effort with parking duty. Linda Fisher, Peter Leone, Ron Paquette, Donnajean Pohlman, Beth Bridger, and Jay Bachelder all provided directional parking guidance for three-plus hours on Friday evening. Providing these volunteers allows the club to secure five bypass entries to the race each year (all club bypass entries were used this year). Thank you so much, volunteers, for supporting the club and this amazing event!
On race day, despite the course being cut short, conditions to halfway could not have been much better. Cool temperatures and mist made for a pretty comfortable trip up. The views were spectacular with low clouds dotting the surrounding mountainsides. Coming back down was a quad busting 4-mile downhill trip, but on the upside, no car brake smell this year. The race organizers again did an outstanding job and the turkey dinner was a wonderful reward for the racing effort.
Striders finishers this year were as follows (apologies if I missed anyone on the volunteer listing or finishers):
John McGinty (38:15) 7th in Division
Chris Chadwick (48:33) 8th in Division
Mark Fisher (48:36) 16th in Division
Dean Rasmussen (55:41) 1st in Division—Congratulations, Dean!
Peter Leone (1:00:57) 22nd in Division
Mount Washington is a truly special New England running experience. Thank you to our club volunteers for their support. Please feel free to contact me anytime if you have interest in running, volunteering, or both for the 2026 edition.
—Mark P. Fisher
markfisher3340@gmail.com
Mobile: 603-340-1987
—Mark P. Fisher
markfisher3340@gmail.com
Mobile: 603-340-1987
Official Delta Dental race photos courtesy of Joe Viger Photography. All other images courtesy of Mark Fisher.
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by Amy Renkert Stabins
I’ve been hearing about the Ultra-Trail Australia (UTA) race series for several years. The UTA is associated with UTMB (Ultra-Trail Mont Blanc), one of the most prestigious trail running races in the world. The UTA is held in Australia's Blue Mountains National Park, in the town of Katoomba where my sister and her family live. Her kids and various other family members and friends have run in these races in the past. We were planning a visit for this spring, and my sister encouraged my husband (Henning) and I to join her for the UTA22, a half marathon running along the fire trails and single track through the park. It sounded like a great event to arrange a visit around.
Training for this canyon trail race was challenging in the Maine winter. The UTA22 has an elevation gain of 1,177 meters (3,861 feet). Ironically, we ran the On the Run Half Marathon in Old Orchard Beach—The World’s Flattest Half Marathon—as part of our training (my time 2:19, Henning’s time 2:12). We traveled to Australia a few weeks before the race to do some backpacking and worried that the time away from running would tank our readiness, but six days hiking with heavy packs through the mountains of Tasmania turned out to be just what we needed.
I’ve been hearing about the Ultra-Trail Australia (UTA) race series for several years. The UTA is associated with UTMB (Ultra-Trail Mont Blanc), one of the most prestigious trail running races in the world. The UTA is held in Australia's Blue Mountains National Park, in the town of Katoomba where my sister and her family live. Her kids and various other family members and friends have run in these races in the past. We were planning a visit for this spring, and my sister encouraged my husband (Henning) and I to join her for the UTA22, a half marathon running along the fire trails and single track through the park. It sounded like a great event to arrange a visit around.
Training for this canyon trail race was challenging in the Maine winter. The UTA22 has an elevation gain of 1,177 meters (3,861 feet). Ironically, we ran the On the Run Half Marathon in Old Orchard Beach—The World’s Flattest Half Marathon—as part of our training (my time 2:19, Henning’s time 2:12). We traveled to Australia a few weeks before the race to do some backpacking and worried that the time away from running would tank our readiness, but six days hiking with heavy packs through the mountains of Tasmania turned out to be just what we needed.
Race morning was cool and misty, great running weather. The 2,279 UTA22 runners were released in waves. We self-seeded in the last wave knowing that we aren’t super speedy. The elites in the first wave reached the finish line as we were making our way to the starting line. All of the runners wore loaded running vests. There is a mandatory gear list that includes an emergency blanket, whistle, compression bandage, rain coat, thermal layer, food, and water.
The first five miles are all downhill on a fire road through old growth eucalyptus forests. Picture the steepest sections of the Quarry Road Trails and add slippery mud. I know that running downhill can wreck your legs just as much as uphill does, but I was able to keep an easy brisk pace the whole way down. Then the uphill began. The next five miles were mostly steeply uphill. All of the racers were walking up the steep long hills and running the short downhill stretches.
The first five miles are all downhill on a fire road through old growth eucalyptus forests. Picture the steepest sections of the Quarry Road Trails and add slippery mud. I know that running downhill can wreck your legs just as much as uphill does, but I was able to keep an easy brisk pace the whole way down. Then the uphill began. The next five miles were mostly steeply uphill. All of the racers were walking up the steep long hills and running the short downhill stretches.
With about three miles to go the trail turned to rolling single track—generally a handful of stairs interspersed with a couple hundred feet of straightaway along cliffs and waterfalls. The woods were alive with the calls of cockatoos and lyre birds. By this point it had become clear that we could have started in an earlier wave. I was passing dozens of people who were clearly struggling with the distance and elevation gain. The long downhill followed by a lot of power-hiking had left my legs fresh, and I felt like I was flying along the straightaways.
I’m going to attribute some of my late-race freshness to proper fueling. Years ago I read that a 13-mile run is too short to require fueling, and I’ve never been one to eat or drink much during a long race. I think the wisdom on this—or my understanding of it—has changed. I carried electrolytes (LMNT Mango Chili) and water, and took a maple syrup or chia gel every 30 to 45 minutes. I think this really helped a lot.
I’m going to attribute some of my late-race freshness to proper fueling. Years ago I read that a 13-mile run is too short to require fueling, and I’ve never been one to eat or drink much during a long race. I think the wisdom on this—or my understanding of it—has changed. I carried electrolytes (LMNT Mango Chili) and water, and took a maple syrup or chia gel every 30 to 45 minutes. I think this really helped a lot.
The final section of the race is the Furber Steps—951 steps of carved sandstone and metal staircases. This stretch was a bit bottle-necked, but I was able to keep a consistent pace the whole way. The finish line is only a few hundred feet from the top of the stairs, and cruising into the festival-like atmosphere was exhilarating! My time was 4 hours and five minutes. Henning was ahead of me at 3 hours 26 minutes, and my sister was just a few minutes behind me.
Our race was only half the fun. My niece was crewing and pacing her boyfriend in the UTAMiler (100 miles). Unfortunately he had to DNF after 107K due to knee issues. My nephew ran the UTA100 (100K). We were able to catch up to him at several spectator locations and checkpoints and follow his progress as he battled it out for first place with one of the three other young men in his age group (18-19 years). He started out in front, fell behind in the middle, and then surged ahead in the last 22K. All of the longer races (50K, 100K, UTAMiler) finished with the same stretch of trail as the 22K that we ran. My nephew ran this section in 3 hours 45 minutes—20 minutes faster than me after spending the day covering 78K. He finished at 12:30 at night with a time of 17 hours and 49 minutes. So impressive! Bonus—the age group winners score a direct entry slot at UTMB in France next year; maybe we will go and crew for him there!
Our race was only half the fun. My niece was crewing and pacing her boyfriend in the UTAMiler (100 miles). Unfortunately he had to DNF after 107K due to knee issues. My nephew ran the UTA100 (100K). We were able to catch up to him at several spectator locations and checkpoints and follow his progress as he battled it out for first place with one of the three other young men in his age group (18-19 years). He started out in front, fell behind in the middle, and then surged ahead in the last 22K. All of the longer races (50K, 100K, UTAMiler) finished with the same stretch of trail as the 22K that we ran. My nephew ran this section in 3 hours 45 minutes—20 minutes faster than me after spending the day covering 78K. He finished at 12:30 at night with a time of 17 hours and 49 minutes. So impressive! Bonus—the age group winners score a direct entry slot at UTMB in France next year; maybe we will go and crew for him there!
For more amazing scenery, here is a link to a video of the event:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5hJxj9DmUc
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5hJxj9DmUc
- Published on
by Sapan Bhatt
Date: Saturday, May 24th, 2025
Location: Pineland Farms, New Gloucester, Maine
Distance: 50K (It’s actually only 28 miles, but still technically an Ultra)
Weather: Cloudy and cool with a couple showers
Date: Saturday, May 24th, 2025
Location: Pineland Farms, New Gloucester, Maine
Distance: 50K (It’s actually only 28 miles, but still technically an Ultra)
Weather: Cloudy and cool with a couple showers
Sapan in orange at the start of the 50K (Photo: Maine Running Photos/David Colby Young)
Pre-Race
Pineland Farms is a stunning venue located in the scenic hills of New Gloucester, Maine, where rolling fields meet dense woods and well-maintained trails. The farm produces many fine products including cheeses which you can find at Hannaford. The Trail Festival at Pineland Farms is held every Memorial Day weekend and features a variety of events. Saturday offered 25K, 50K, and 100K races, which were one, two, or four loops of the (slightly short) 14-mile course, and Sunday offered shorter races and dog-human canicross competitions. Spanning both days was the 30-hour ultra where runners completed as many miles as possible along a 10K loop (the solo winner, Jason Bigonia, hit 22 laps and 150 miles!).
Arriving on race day, the scene was heartening. The farm crew and the volunteers worked all weekend in the rain and chilly conditions to make sure things were ready for the runners. The start/finish area, where race organizers set up tents, is located right next to the parking lot. Check-in was quick and I headed to my car to change and stay warm before the start.
The Course
The course is fairly runnable (1,700 feet of climbing over 14 miles per loop) with wide sweeping trails and some flat sections in the grasslands. The climbs can be steep, but short, and the trails aren’t technical. The main factor, especially as the day progressed, was dealing with mud and soggy conditions. I went with my trusty Saucony Peregrines (you could go with something like Hokas, but I appreciated the extra traction) as well as a running vest. I got this Aonijie vest for $40 and thought it did very well. If I trail ran more, I would spring for something premium, but this was a nice snug fit for people looking to carry hydration on longer runs.
The loop featured four aid stops that were decently well spread over the loop. They were stocked with giant water jugs and my course favorite, Untapped maple syrup energy gels. You could definitely get away with just a handheld bottle and gels in your pockets. The first loop I did with the vest, light jacket, and gloves and then as I warmed up, I ditched all those and just ran with one of the vest’s soft bottles.
Pineland Farms is a stunning venue located in the scenic hills of New Gloucester, Maine, where rolling fields meet dense woods and well-maintained trails. The farm produces many fine products including cheeses which you can find at Hannaford. The Trail Festival at Pineland Farms is held every Memorial Day weekend and features a variety of events. Saturday offered 25K, 50K, and 100K races, which were one, two, or four loops of the (slightly short) 14-mile course, and Sunday offered shorter races and dog-human canicross competitions. Spanning both days was the 30-hour ultra where runners completed as many miles as possible along a 10K loop (the solo winner, Jason Bigonia, hit 22 laps and 150 miles!).
Arriving on race day, the scene was heartening. The farm crew and the volunteers worked all weekend in the rain and chilly conditions to make sure things were ready for the runners. The start/finish area, where race organizers set up tents, is located right next to the parking lot. Check-in was quick and I headed to my car to change and stay warm before the start.
The Course
The course is fairly runnable (1,700 feet of climbing over 14 miles per loop) with wide sweeping trails and some flat sections in the grasslands. The climbs can be steep, but short, and the trails aren’t technical. The main factor, especially as the day progressed, was dealing with mud and soggy conditions. I went with my trusty Saucony Peregrines (you could go with something like Hokas, but I appreciated the extra traction) as well as a running vest. I got this Aonijie vest for $40 and thought it did very well. If I trail ran more, I would spring for something premium, but this was a nice snug fit for people looking to carry hydration on longer runs.
The loop featured four aid stops that were decently well spread over the loop. They were stocked with giant water jugs and my course favorite, Untapped maple syrup energy gels. You could definitely get away with just a handheld bottle and gels in your pockets. The first loop I did with the vest, light jacket, and gloves and then as I warmed up, I ditched all those and just ran with one of the vest’s soft bottles.
Sapan in orange at the start of the 50K (Photo: Maine Running Photos/David Colby Young)
Race Highlights
At the start, Andrew Combs, the eventual winner (who also set the course record in 3:24:29) took off like a bullet. I was relieved as if there were any bears on the course, I would likely not be eaten. My plan was to take the first loop steady and get a feeling for the work that would need to be done on loop 2. I wanted to stay hydrated and charged as the majority of work would be done in the last 8 miles.
Loop 1 went smoothly and I credit the Striders’ Saturday runs for making me feel dialed-in to the 14-mile distance. The scenery was fantastic; sweeping meadows encapsulating forests, never too exposed to the elements. I understand trail runners saying they like to "play" in the mountains. You have a different connection to the course versus road running. The pacing with this type of distance and incline is also very different. Your muscles get strained and pushed, but your heart rate isn’t spiking to threshold. What you gain by going slower is depleted by the elevation changes and this course pushed me into some of the strongest mental autopilot I’ve experienced.
After getting through the first loop, I took a quick break at my drop bag to refuel and shed some gear. I felt like an F1 car getting new tires and set out on loop 2 feeling strong. Then, the rain started. My core was warm enough but my hands started to numb to where I struggled to get the gels out of my pockets. The course was also getting muddier and more worn which required more attention and discipline on the footfall. The conditions forced me to stay in the moment and focus on pushing forward.
I grabbed three Untapped gels at the next station and refilled my bottle. Having lost the dexterity to go into my pockets, I held them like my sword and shield, leading me into battle for the next 10 miles. For someone who's loyal to salted watermelon Gu, the Untapped is really good. It’s more liquid than Gu and the familiar maple syrup taste makes it easy to go down. My one critique is the packaging is a longer tube so you have to reach a bit to push from the bottom to get all the fuel.
The last 8 miles, I was around more of the tail pack of the 25K racers and some 100K runners. We shared encouragement as the rain eased and I crested into the rarely traveled above 20 miles of a run. I’ve seen both sides of this zone: the energized surging version and the desperate struggle bus. I was grateful to be in the former and spaced out my remaining fuel to keep myself from bonking. I kept the pace steady, using the building adrenaline to combat the growing fatigue to get through the finish in third place in 3:53:38. Not considering myself much of a trail runner, I was elated to finish my longest run to date in both time and distance.
Race Swag
Post-Race
The finish line grew more animated as runners finished and the band got started. I won my age group scoring a sweet Pinelands steel tumbler and Lamey-Wellehan gift certificate, which rounded out the impressive swag of buff, wool socks, and hefty medal. One of the highlights was visiting the Pineland Farms Market, which had specialty cheeses and preserves as well as a giant cafe and bakery. My favorite pickup was the garlic-dill cheese curds. I chilled out to some music from the band and let the morning sink in.
I highly recommend the Trail Festival at Pineland Farms for anyone looking for a long run/supreme hike on Memorial Day weekend. Three older gentlemen just walked the whole race, engaged in conversation. The atmosphere is super chill and the farm and volunteers do a phenomenal job supporting the runners. And for under $100 for the 50K, it’s one of the best race values you can find. Here’s to a summer of adventures!
—Sapan
The Aonijie vest I used for the race
- Published on
by Sapan Bhatt
Since childhood, the Boston Marathon has been on my radar. Growing up in Massachusetts, I loved turning on the TV to catch parts of the race as I enjoyed the day off. In high school, I volunteered as part of the spotters network. Groups of four or five of us would stand at an assigned mile marker and let the TV crews know when the lead men and women would pass as well as the Hoyts. Dick and Rick Hoyt were the father/son duo who completed the marathon each year with Dick pushing his son Rick, who had cerebral palsy, in a wheelchair. Their Team Hoyt foundation is a strong presence in the marathon today.
This year, I was fortunate enough to qualify for Boston, making it my first major marathon and the largest race I’ve ever done. The infrastructure, amazing crowds, and endless volunteers speak to the prestige and magnitude of the Boston Marathon.
The festivities started on Saturday before the Monday race, with a trip to the marathon expo and visits to the running pop-up stores along Newbury Street. There was tons of energy from the jump with a large crowd buying everything in sight at the Adidas store in the expo to a live DJ playing in the Nike store.
On Sunday, the night before the race, we were able to spend some time around Hopkinton, seeing the Start Line and the massive signs of support from all the businesses in the town center.
The corral setup is very efficient. Bus drop off to corral line up was about a block (I would skip athletes village which is about half a mile away; there’s plenty of water and bathrooms at the start).
Since childhood, the Boston Marathon has been on my radar. Growing up in Massachusetts, I loved turning on the TV to catch parts of the race as I enjoyed the day off. In high school, I volunteered as part of the spotters network. Groups of four or five of us would stand at an assigned mile marker and let the TV crews know when the lead men and women would pass as well as the Hoyts. Dick and Rick Hoyt were the father/son duo who completed the marathon each year with Dick pushing his son Rick, who had cerebral palsy, in a wheelchair. Their Team Hoyt foundation is a strong presence in the marathon today.
This year, I was fortunate enough to qualify for Boston, making it my first major marathon and the largest race I’ve ever done. The infrastructure, amazing crowds, and endless volunteers speak to the prestige and magnitude of the Boston Marathon.
The festivities started on Saturday before the Monday race, with a trip to the marathon expo and visits to the running pop-up stores along Newbury Street. There was tons of energy from the jump with a large crowd buying everything in sight at the Adidas store in the expo to a live DJ playing in the Nike store.
On Sunday, the night before the race, we were able to spend some time around Hopkinton, seeing the Start Line and the massive signs of support from all the businesses in the town center.
The corral setup is very efficient. Bus drop off to corral line up was about a block (I would skip athletes village which is about half a mile away; there’s plenty of water and bathrooms at the start).
Start line at night
From the gun, I wasn’t too boxed in, no more than at Beach to Beacon. Each mile has water/gatorade with each side of the road having a station a couple hundred meters apart. Each station must have had 15 volunteers, so getting fluids is no problem.
There’s a crowd presence almost the entire way. The good weather yielded a large turnout this year that swelled in each town center along the course. One of the cooler things I witnessed was a runner in front of me pumping his arms for cheers and the crowd roaring in front of him. The Wellesley Scream Tunnel was another highlight, pretty much a wall of sound pushing you forward as college students five to six deep pressed against the barricades.
My race strategy was fairly basic—my goal was to run 6:15s to the Newton Hills, taking a gel every 4 miles. I would get to the hills feeling solid, fight through them, then recover and regain pace over the last 5 miles.
The first 13 miles went pretty smoothly (helps that it’s almost all downhill to this point). I was 90sec faster than goal, but I felt very smooth and well fueled, taking Gatorade every mile or so. I must have heard :Yeah Maine!" and "Go Central Maine" at least 30 times from the crowd.
From miles 13 to 16, I noticed the fatigue building. I adjusted the plan to go through the Newton Hills at 6:20-6:30 pace and conserve energy for the final 5. There are four hills in total culminating in Heartbreak Hill at 20.5. I didn’t really notice the first hill. Hills 2 and 3 were a bit of a grind, and Heartbreak felt like an impressive climb. There was a big banner hanging over Heartbreak celebrating you getting to this point and ushering you to the finish.
The hills were where I started cramping in the feet and hamstrings. I stopped at the top of Heartbreak after feeling a lightning bolt shoot down my legs. Temperatures were increasing and honestly I thought the race was lost at that point. All the training leading up to this was probably the difference in my legs being able to fight the cramps and continue at a sub-7 pace for the final 5 miles (that and the seven gels and half gallon of Gatorade I drank on course).
Those final 5 miles, I was toeing the line between pushing while avoiding a full lockup of the legs. This section brought the famed Citgo sign and the crowds of Boston College at Coolidge Corner. I took down two gels in this section alone plus two to three Gatorade cups. Making those final turns on Hereford and Boylston makes you feel on hallowed ground. They erect a huge viewing booth across the finish line for race VIPs/media and you can almost see the people starring down at you as you push to the finish.
The post race is challenging. You have so many people coming in and there’s a lot of hustle and bustle. I was lucky to find Shannon quickly to get to the car so I could get home to recover. I was ecstatic to finish in 2:46:45, a 7 minute PR for me. The atmosphere makes me understand why people work so hard to come back to Boston year after year. I’ll be aiming to return in 2026 and bask in that energy for another ride. I hope to see you there.
There’s a crowd presence almost the entire way. The good weather yielded a large turnout this year that swelled in each town center along the course. One of the cooler things I witnessed was a runner in front of me pumping his arms for cheers and the crowd roaring in front of him. The Wellesley Scream Tunnel was another highlight, pretty much a wall of sound pushing you forward as college students five to six deep pressed against the barricades.
My race strategy was fairly basic—my goal was to run 6:15s to the Newton Hills, taking a gel every 4 miles. I would get to the hills feeling solid, fight through them, then recover and regain pace over the last 5 miles.
The first 13 miles went pretty smoothly (helps that it’s almost all downhill to this point). I was 90sec faster than goal, but I felt very smooth and well fueled, taking Gatorade every mile or so. I must have heard :Yeah Maine!" and "Go Central Maine" at least 30 times from the crowd.
From miles 13 to 16, I noticed the fatigue building. I adjusted the plan to go through the Newton Hills at 6:20-6:30 pace and conserve energy for the final 5. There are four hills in total culminating in Heartbreak Hill at 20.5. I didn’t really notice the first hill. Hills 2 and 3 were a bit of a grind, and Heartbreak felt like an impressive climb. There was a big banner hanging over Heartbreak celebrating you getting to this point and ushering you to the finish.
The hills were where I started cramping in the feet and hamstrings. I stopped at the top of Heartbreak after feeling a lightning bolt shoot down my legs. Temperatures were increasing and honestly I thought the race was lost at that point. All the training leading up to this was probably the difference in my legs being able to fight the cramps and continue at a sub-7 pace for the final 5 miles (that and the seven gels and half gallon of Gatorade I drank on course).
Those final 5 miles, I was toeing the line between pushing while avoiding a full lockup of the legs. This section brought the famed Citgo sign and the crowds of Boston College at Coolidge Corner. I took down two gels in this section alone plus two to three Gatorade cups. Making those final turns on Hereford and Boylston makes you feel on hallowed ground. They erect a huge viewing booth across the finish line for race VIPs/media and you can almost see the people starring down at you as you push to the finish.
The post race is challenging. You have so many people coming in and there’s a lot of hustle and bustle. I was lucky to find Shannon quickly to get to the car so I could get home to recover. I was ecstatic to finish in 2:46:45, a 7 minute PR for me. The atmosphere makes me understand why people work so hard to come back to Boston year after year. I’ll be aiming to return in 2026 and bask in that energy for another ride. I hope to see you there.
Sapan and Shannon at the finish line the day before
Fellow Strider Ron Peck stretching out at the bus stop to take him to the start for his 10th Boston
- Published on
The Marsh Island Trail Runners 2024 Frost Fixed Time Race
by Ian Hepburn
This past October a few Striders and I participated in a unique and complex race that the Marsh Island Trail Runners (MITR) have put together. The event was the Frost Fixed-Time Footrace, a six-hour race held west of Orono on trails in the vicinity of the Caribou Bog Outdoor Center. The concept of the race is that individual runners or teams compete for points based on running on one of two available three-mile loops. One loop is relatively flat and consists of wide, well-maintained grass and dirt trails. The other loop is on rougher single-track trails and has more changes in elevation. Runners/teams receive 0.75 points for completing the easier loop (called the Red Route), and 1 point for completing the more challenging loop (called the Blue Route). Participants try to earn as many points as possible within the six hours allotted for the race by running as many loops as they can.
The challenge is in determining how to get the most points. Should racers run the easier, faster route that is worth less points, or should they sacrifice time on the more challenging route that is worth more points? That was the decision that faced the Central Maine Striders team consisting of myself, Alex Casey, Lindsey Madison, and Ron Peck at this year’s Frost race.
Before I describe the experience, I will provide a little background about the event. This is the second year that MITR has held the Frost Fixed-Time Race. It was held in the same area as last year’s race, but had a different Red Route (the Blue Route remained the same this year). Race Director Brian Olsen also adjusted the scoring for this year, as last year the Red Route was worth 0.5 points, and the Blue Route was worth 1 point. The loops begin and end at the Caribou Bog Outdoor Center, where there is space for participants to park and to establish a base camp.
by Ian Hepburn
This past October a few Striders and I participated in a unique and complex race that the Marsh Island Trail Runners (MITR) have put together. The event was the Frost Fixed-Time Footrace, a six-hour race held west of Orono on trails in the vicinity of the Caribou Bog Outdoor Center. The concept of the race is that individual runners or teams compete for points based on running on one of two available three-mile loops. One loop is relatively flat and consists of wide, well-maintained grass and dirt trails. The other loop is on rougher single-track trails and has more changes in elevation. Runners/teams receive 0.75 points for completing the easier loop (called the Red Route), and 1 point for completing the more challenging loop (called the Blue Route). Participants try to earn as many points as possible within the six hours allotted for the race by running as many loops as they can.
The challenge is in determining how to get the most points. Should racers run the easier, faster route that is worth less points, or should they sacrifice time on the more challenging route that is worth more points? That was the decision that faced the Central Maine Striders team consisting of myself, Alex Casey, Lindsey Madison, and Ron Peck at this year’s Frost race.
Before I describe the experience, I will provide a little background about the event. This is the second year that MITR has held the Frost Fixed-Time Race. It was held in the same area as last year’s race, but had a different Red Route (the Blue Route remained the same this year). Race Director Brian Olsen also adjusted the scoring for this year, as last year the Red Route was worth 0.5 points, and the Blue Route was worth 1 point. The loops begin and end at the Caribou Bog Outdoor Center, where there is space for participants to park and to establish a base camp.
2 Kool 4 Skool’s base camp
The base camp is an important aspect of this race whether you are running as an individual or as a team. If you plan on running for the entire six hours, then hydration, nutrition, first aid, clean clothes, warm layers, and lighting are all considerations. Personal lighting was crucial, as the six-hour clock began its countdown at 2 p.m., which placed the finish at 8 p.m., with sunset at 5:41p.m. on the race date. Headlamps were required at a minimum, with additional lighting and reflective clothing strongly encouraged.
Trail marking was also very important, not just to differentiate between the two race loops, but to ensure that racers were following the correct trail. There are a lot of intersecting trails in the Caribou Bog area, and it was easy to get confused. Fortunately, race director Brian had access to miles of engineer tape, which he used liberally across both loops. The engineer tape was color coded, so racers could follow the correct path to the halfway point of each loop. At the halfway point there was a five-gallon bucket containing color-coded "markers" that runners would collect and carry to the finish to verify that they completed the loop. Once runners passed the marker bucket, the color of the engineer tape marking the trail changed, so that if the runner missed the bucket they would have a visible indication that they passed it. I thought this was a pretty clever way to ensure that runners understood where they were on the course, and it helped reduce the need for a volunteer to station themselves by the bucket to make sure racers collected their markers.
Racers would return to the start with their markers, and the race personnel would record their mileage (which was pretty easy, as each lap is 3 miles) and their points. One racer from each team would run at a time, so their teammates would have some down time. Individual runners had the option to take a break between laps or to continue running.
Trail marking was also very important, not just to differentiate between the two race loops, but to ensure that racers were following the correct trail. There are a lot of intersecting trails in the Caribou Bog area, and it was easy to get confused. Fortunately, race director Brian had access to miles of engineer tape, which he used liberally across both loops. The engineer tape was color coded, so racers could follow the correct path to the halfway point of each loop. At the halfway point there was a five-gallon bucket containing color-coded "markers" that runners would collect and carry to the finish to verify that they completed the loop. Once runners passed the marker bucket, the color of the engineer tape marking the trail changed, so that if the runner missed the bucket they would have a visible indication that they passed it. I thought this was a pretty clever way to ensure that runners understood where they were on the course, and it helped reduce the need for a volunteer to station themselves by the bucket to make sure racers collected their markers.
Racers would return to the start with their markers, and the race personnel would record their mileage (which was pretty easy, as each lap is 3 miles) and their points. One racer from each team would run at a time, so their teammates would have some down time. Individual runners had the option to take a break between laps or to continue running.
The race staff kept a running tally of laps and points. Golden Retriever added for scale.
The race began at 2 p.m., and Ron was the first runner for our team (2 Kool 4 Skool), followed by Alex, myself, and Lindsey. Alex had this to say about the race:
“I ran second after Ron started us off with an easy (for him) 19:00 3-mile leg on the red course. I decided to take the road less traveled and scout out the harder blue trail. I didn’t know what to expect, but I attacked the trail with a bit more ambition than I should have. With winding turns through heavy forest, rocks and roots covered with leaves I had a hard time staying certain that I wasn’t completely off trail. At a point where the trail finally seemed to open up on a nice downhill, I smashed my foot into a rock and tumbled forward. I managed to finish my leg and two red loops after this, but the first three toes on my right foot were black and purple for weeks after this. Ron, Lindsey, and Ian put forth a tremendous effort for the rest of the race to secure a third place finish for our team. I can’t wait to run this awesome race again and revisit that blue course. We all had an absolute blast and hope to have a larger Central Maine Striders group running in 2025!”
“I ran second after Ron started us off with an easy (for him) 19:00 3-mile leg on the red course. I decided to take the road less traveled and scout out the harder blue trail. I didn’t know what to expect, but I attacked the trail with a bit more ambition than I should have. With winding turns through heavy forest, rocks and roots covered with leaves I had a hard time staying certain that I wasn’t completely off trail. At a point where the trail finally seemed to open up on a nice downhill, I smashed my foot into a rock and tumbled forward. I managed to finish my leg and two red loops after this, but the first three toes on my right foot were black and purple for weeks after this. Ron, Lindsey, and Ian put forth a tremendous effort for the rest of the race to secure a third place finish for our team. I can’t wait to run this awesome race again and revisit that blue course. We all had an absolute blast and hope to have a larger Central Maine Striders group running in 2025!”
I didn’t have a race strategy; I just put my head down and tried to grind out laps. I ran my first lap around 2:50 p.m., so there was plenty of light for me to try out the more technical blue course, which I needed because it was very twisty and rough. I tried to keep an eye out for course markers while also keeping an eye on the footing, which was treacherous in places due to the root- and stone-covered trails, which also had a fresh coat of leaves on top to help hide tripping hazards. I opted to run the red route for my next two laps, especially since the last one was at 6:40 p.m. and it was completely dark on the trail.
Ron, Lindsey, Alex, and Ian
In the end, 2 Kool 4 Skool came in third. We had the same number of laps as the first and second place teams (13 laps), but the teams ahead of us had more points. The winning team, 2 Fast 2 Fatherly, ran only on the blue route, maximizing their points. The prizes were cookies from a local bakery (sorry, local bakery, I forgot the name of your business), and the camaraderie built among teammates who took part in a unique physical and mental challenge. I recommend the Frost Fixed-Time Race, and I think it would be great if Central Maine Striders could field multiple teams next year.
- Published on
by Ian Hepburn
TUCARD: The Terrifically (And Unnecessarily) Complicated Adventure Race Duathlon. I am prefacing my race report with this expansion of the acronym so that I can emphasize the “Unnecessarily Complicated” aspect of this event. I will try my best to describe the rules that TUCARD participants had to follow in this year’s race, with the understanding that I probably can’t make them that clear in the space I have allotted.
On September 21, 2024 I participated in my first TUCARD, which is an annual event facilitated by the Marsh Island Trail Runners. I am not the first Strider to take part in this event (see previous TUCARD 2021 and 2022 race reports from Amy Stabins).
The TUCARD has elements of an orienteering challenge, i.e. navigating to points on a map, combined with running and biking (or other modes of conveyance, which I will get to in a moment). Complexity is added by the terrain itself, as it takes place in/on/around the trail networks north of Bangor like the Bangor City Forest, the Orono Bogwalk, the Caribou Bog Conservation Area, and other trails in that vicinity. The Veazie Railroad Bed runs through these trail systems as well, connecting them all. Some of these trails, like the railroad bed, are wide and flat, but they are connected by smaller, capillary like trails that are rougher, steeper, and difficult to move quickly on.
On top of the physical challenges posed by landscape are the rules of the TUCARD. The boundaries of the race environment are defined by the “Shadow of the Pony” (you will notice a distinct equestrian theme to the TUCARD, especially if you go to their website and check out past TUCARDs). In this year’s TUCARD, there were four waypoints, whose coordinates were given to registered participants before race day. The race organizers did not provide any context or guidance about these points until the day before the race, when the “Sparkle Pony Rule” (more equestrian stuff) was revealed. This dearth of information until 24 hours before race day is a hallmark of the TUCARD. In the case of this year’s event, it was revealed that racers had to collect three of the four points, but there were some stipulations.
WARNING: ATTEMPTED EXPLANATION OF COMPLICATED RULES FOLLOWS!
In the map below, you see the Shadow of the Pony, which outlines the edges of the course. Within the Shadow, you can navigate to any of the points in any way you choose to, as long as it does not involve anything powered by a motor. So, if you decide to swim or paddle across a pond instead of running or biking around it, that is allowed. However, modifications to a racer’s time may be applied based on the surface they are racing on, as well as their form of locomotion. No modifications are applied if you are walking or running on a trail. However, if you are walking or running on a paved surface, a 2x modification is applied so that every minute of time spent on foot on a paved surface counts as two minutes of race time. If you are biking on a trail, a x1.5 modification is applied. If you ride your bike on a paved surface the timing modifications are compounded so that for every minute spent riding your bike on a paved road counts as three minutes of race time. However, time spent boating applies a x1/2 modification to your time, and time spent swimming applies a x1/4 modification. Part of this year’s Sparkle Pony Rule added a new form of locomotion; time spent dribbling a soccer ball applied a x3/4 modification to your time. So, if you spent 60 minutes navigating through swamps, thickets, brambles, and other environmental hazards while kicking a soccer ball, it only counted as 45 minutes. Racers are required to record their progress using Strava or other digital exercise logging system, and this is how the race staff can apply the appropriate time modifications to each racer’s raw time.
The other major twist in the race was that only two of the four points were available to be collected at a given time. In the :00 to :29 part of an hour, points ‘u’ and ‘n’ could be collected while points ‘b’ and ‘p’ were not available. In the :30 to :59 part of an hour, ‘b’ and ‘p’ were available and the other points weren’t. So, racers had to determine a strategy where they could get the points at the times they were available while navigating through the trails and waterways, and making decisions about things like if the speed afforded by a bike would be worth the time penalty. Complicating this even further were two points near the extreme north and south ends of the course, where you could get a token to invert the time rule for the availability of the points….
I think that if you have read this far you get the point that the TUCARD is more complicated than most other races. Fortunately, the post-race potluck lunch was refreshingly straightforward, with almost every
participant bringing food and beverages to share and discussing their race strategies. The race organizers encourage pot-luck participation by offering to subtract five minutes off of your race time if you brought a food item to share.
What I observed during the race was that many participants used bikes as their primary means to get around, but there were a lot of others who went on foot. As the ‘D’ in TUCARD stands for Duathlon, every racer had to employ at least two forms of locomotion, so racers without bikes had to swim/boat at least part of the course. In my case, I used a sturdy mountain bike to cover ground quickly. I felt pretty smart on the morning of the race as I had visited these trails a few weeks earlier to get an idea of the terrain and how easily navigable the trails were, and using this knowledge I was able to move quickly from the start to my first point (point ‘p’ on the map).
My attitude changed pretty quickly once I tried to move east towards point ‘n’, and I discovered how steep, rooty, rocky, and swampy the terrain between the points was. My strategy fell apart and I was forced to make some decisions on the move. I had to choose between pushing hard over narrow steep trails to move directly to the next point with the distinct possibility of not making it in time and being forced to wait 30 minutes for it be available again, or moving south to the waypoint that would allow me to collect a token to reverse the time rule for point ‘n’. I opted to add distance to my route and collect the token, then proceeded to point ‘n’. I then headed for the northern half of the course to collect my last point, where I was again forced to make a decision between a direct route to the point, or to collect another time inversion token before getting to the last point. I won’t go into further detail, but I will state that when I crossed the finish line, I had travelled 16.7 miles in 2 hours, 29 minutes.
I am writing this on October 30th, 2024, 39 days after the TUCARD, and the official standings haven’t been published yet. This is typical, as the scoring for the race is as complicated as the race itself. The race staff has to scrutinize the digital records of each participant’s route and apply the appropriate time modifiers to determine the final official times and standings, which has typically taken about a month. So I may have actually won the 2024 TUCARD (highly unlikely), or maybe I came in last (more plausible), but either way it was a blast.
I enjoy orienteering races, and the creative challenges posed by the terrain and the race rules ensured that no part of the race was boring. If you are looking for a physical and mental challenge and aren’t easily frustrated by ambiguities and contradictions, then the TUCARD is the race for you. However, it will help to keep these things in mind:
To quote the classic film The Outsiders: Stay golden Pony Boy!
TUCARD: The Terrifically (And Unnecessarily) Complicated Adventure Race Duathlon. I am prefacing my race report with this expansion of the acronym so that I can emphasize the “Unnecessarily Complicated” aspect of this event. I will try my best to describe the rules that TUCARD participants had to follow in this year’s race, with the understanding that I probably can’t make them that clear in the space I have allotted.
On September 21, 2024 I participated in my first TUCARD, which is an annual event facilitated by the Marsh Island Trail Runners. I am not the first Strider to take part in this event (see previous TUCARD 2021 and 2022 race reports from Amy Stabins).
The TUCARD has elements of an orienteering challenge, i.e. navigating to points on a map, combined with running and biking (or other modes of conveyance, which I will get to in a moment). Complexity is added by the terrain itself, as it takes place in/on/around the trail networks north of Bangor like the Bangor City Forest, the Orono Bogwalk, the Caribou Bog Conservation Area, and other trails in that vicinity. The Veazie Railroad Bed runs through these trail systems as well, connecting them all. Some of these trails, like the railroad bed, are wide and flat, but they are connected by smaller, capillary like trails that are rougher, steeper, and difficult to move quickly on.
On top of the physical challenges posed by landscape are the rules of the TUCARD. The boundaries of the race environment are defined by the “Shadow of the Pony” (you will notice a distinct equestrian theme to the TUCARD, especially if you go to their website and check out past TUCARDs). In this year’s TUCARD, there were four waypoints, whose coordinates were given to registered participants before race day. The race organizers did not provide any context or guidance about these points until the day before the race, when the “Sparkle Pony Rule” (more equestrian stuff) was revealed. This dearth of information until 24 hours before race day is a hallmark of the TUCARD. In the case of this year’s event, it was revealed that racers had to collect three of the four points, but there were some stipulations.
WARNING: ATTEMPTED EXPLANATION OF COMPLICATED RULES FOLLOWS!
In the map below, you see the Shadow of the Pony, which outlines the edges of the course. Within the Shadow, you can navigate to any of the points in any way you choose to, as long as it does not involve anything powered by a motor. So, if you decide to swim or paddle across a pond instead of running or biking around it, that is allowed. However, modifications to a racer’s time may be applied based on the surface they are racing on, as well as their form of locomotion. No modifications are applied if you are walking or running on a trail. However, if you are walking or running on a paved surface, a 2x modification is applied so that every minute of time spent on foot on a paved surface counts as two minutes of race time. If you are biking on a trail, a x1.5 modification is applied. If you ride your bike on a paved surface the timing modifications are compounded so that for every minute spent riding your bike on a paved road counts as three minutes of race time. However, time spent boating applies a x1/2 modification to your time, and time spent swimming applies a x1/4 modification. Part of this year’s Sparkle Pony Rule added a new form of locomotion; time spent dribbling a soccer ball applied a x3/4 modification to your time. So, if you spent 60 minutes navigating through swamps, thickets, brambles, and other environmental hazards while kicking a soccer ball, it only counted as 45 minutes. Racers are required to record their progress using Strava or other digital exercise logging system, and this is how the race staff can apply the appropriate time modifications to each racer’s raw time.
The other major twist in the race was that only two of the four points were available to be collected at a given time. In the :00 to :29 part of an hour, points ‘u’ and ‘n’ could be collected while points ‘b’ and ‘p’ were not available. In the :30 to :59 part of an hour, ‘b’ and ‘p’ were available and the other points weren’t. So, racers had to determine a strategy where they could get the points at the times they were available while navigating through the trails and waterways, and making decisions about things like if the speed afforded by a bike would be worth the time penalty. Complicating this even further were two points near the extreme north and south ends of the course, where you could get a token to invert the time rule for the availability of the points….
I think that if you have read this far you get the point that the TUCARD is more complicated than most other races. Fortunately, the post-race potluck lunch was refreshingly straightforward, with almost every
participant bringing food and beverages to share and discussing their race strategies. The race organizers encourage pot-luck participation by offering to subtract five minutes off of your race time if you brought a food item to share.
What I observed during the race was that many participants used bikes as their primary means to get around, but there were a lot of others who went on foot. As the ‘D’ in TUCARD stands for Duathlon, every racer had to employ at least two forms of locomotion, so racers without bikes had to swim/boat at least part of the course. In my case, I used a sturdy mountain bike to cover ground quickly. I felt pretty smart on the morning of the race as I had visited these trails a few weeks earlier to get an idea of the terrain and how easily navigable the trails were, and using this knowledge I was able to move quickly from the start to my first point (point ‘p’ on the map).
My attitude changed pretty quickly once I tried to move east towards point ‘n’, and I discovered how steep, rooty, rocky, and swampy the terrain between the points was. My strategy fell apart and I was forced to make some decisions on the move. I had to choose between pushing hard over narrow steep trails to move directly to the next point with the distinct possibility of not making it in time and being forced to wait 30 minutes for it be available again, or moving south to the waypoint that would allow me to collect a token to reverse the time rule for point ‘n’. I opted to add distance to my route and collect the token, then proceeded to point ‘n’. I then headed for the northern half of the course to collect my last point, where I was again forced to make a decision between a direct route to the point, or to collect another time inversion token before getting to the last point. I won’t go into further detail, but I will state that when I crossed the finish line, I had travelled 16.7 miles in 2 hours, 29 minutes.
I am writing this on October 30th, 2024, 39 days after the TUCARD, and the official standings haven’t been published yet. This is typical, as the scoring for the race is as complicated as the race itself. The race staff has to scrutinize the digital records of each participant’s route and apply the appropriate time modifiers to determine the final official times and standings, which has typically taken about a month. So I may have actually won the 2024 TUCARD (highly unlikely), or maybe I came in last (more plausible), but either way it was a blast.
I enjoy orienteering races, and the creative challenges posed by the terrain and the race rules ensured that no part of the race was boring. If you are looking for a physical and mental challenge and aren’t easily frustrated by ambiguities and contradictions, then the TUCARD is the race for you. However, it will help to keep these things in mind:
- Preparation is helpful. If possible, acquaint yourself with the trails before the race.
- You will not get all of the information you want about the race when you want it.
- Mike Tyson said “Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth”. That applies here, as the Sparkle Pony Rule serves as the metaphorical punch that will disrupt the strategy you might have formulated prior to the race, so keep your mind open and be flexible.
To quote the classic film The Outsiders: Stay golden Pony Boy!
