Bear Mountain - a true test of determination

On Saturday, I participated in one of the hardest ultra races I’ve ever competed in – the North Face Endurance Challenge Northeast Regionals: Bear Mountain 50 miler. In looking at past results, runners consistently run 1:30 to 2:00 slower on this course, and the RDs rate it a 5 out of 5 for technical trails, a 4 out of 5 for vertical climb, and 5 out of 5 for difficulty. Great – bring it on…who doesn’t like a challenge?

I was fortunate that several of my training buddies were going to race this also, so I knew I would have company at the race. We drove to the race site Friday night, and decided that with a 5am start, and having to load up a shuttle bus to get there between 3:30 and 4:15, we were going to just sleep in our cars in the parking lot. So, the night before this challenging event I was lulled to sleep by the sound of cars racing by on the highway and with my feet just tucked under the passenger seat in the car. The alarm went off way too early at 3:30.

After meeting up with the rest of our group (since they were bumming a bit of my drink mix off me), we jumped in the shuttles and were transported to the start. We all checked in, got our numbers, our timing chips, and settled into our pre-race rituals (filling bottles, handing in drop bags, whatever). We were all a bit star-struck as we saw some of the greatest ultra runners in the country milling around also. Unfortunately, at five minutes before the race (when I was just about to down my pre-race gu), they announced that the race start would be pushed back 15 more minutes. We grumbled and put back on our warm-ups.

Finally, at 5:15am, approximately 175 runners lined up under the inflatable start/finish banner, were treated to an inspirational talk by Dean Karnazes, and then we were off. There was a blaze of headlamps as the race streaked across the field and into the trails. Immediately the trail turned to double track, and I worked hard to get into the right position as it quickly narrowed. Luckily, two of my western mass friends (Matt and Damien) followed my lead, and after about a mile we settled into a rhythm. The three of us quickly passed the first few miles on the technical, rocky jeep trails, but were happy to shut off the headlamps – we felt like the danger of a broken ankle was greatly reduced once we could see where our feet were landing. I happily settled into the 2nd place female position, knowing that Nikki Kimball was out in front of me, but wanting to run my own race and not try to match her tempo.

About 5 or 6 miles into the race we were running along beautiful single track, with lush green growth beside us, rocks to jump on and over, and I was having flashbacks to the trails I train on in Western Mass. I must have pushed the tempo a bit in my enthusiasm to run something that felt so familiar, because next thing I knew my Westerns Mass buddies were off the back. I figured they’d catch me again, so I just kept running, starting conversation with the next runner I caught – who happened to be Oz Pearlman. We ran for a few miles, trading war stories from races. We were so engaged in conversation that we flew past a turn – luckily we only went about 200 yards past it and the runner behind us quickly corrected our mistake. Matt caught us quickly after that, and a small group of about a half dozen runners formed around us. It was a great mix, with Oz and I being the most seasoned runners, Matt running in his second ever 50-miler and a few of the folks being first time ultra runners.

The group ran together, sharing stories, and passing miles through the mile 14 aid station. Just past that was the most unintentional trail I’ve ever seen – it was a field of boulders. We hurdled over the rocks, running from flagging to flagging. I was glad to be in a group, because I easily could have lost a ton of time finding the trail without a group. I was extremely pleased that my 268s were gripping the rocks well and I wasn’t slipping and sliding like some of the folks around me. A few miles later, after a mile or two of climbing, the group was treated to slabs of granite and amazing views of the Catskills. Again, I was fortunate to have a group, because on top of the rocks there was no way to flag the course. I chuckled as I watched the group fan out across a rock and move forward…someone would shout out when they found the flagging indicating the route, and then everyone else would scramble towards them and onward. This continued for about a mile over these slab peaks.

Just off the peaks, the group was making good progress on a downhill, and suddenly I found myself flat on my face. Somehow a skinny root had grabbed my ankle and sent me down in a completely ungraceful fashion. Unfortunately, I landed on both knees as well as my hand with the handheld – so the poor runners next to me got a good shot of my hydration mix on their legs (sorry!). Luckily, no major damage and we were off again.

This group carried on for several miles at conversational pace until about the mile 22 aid station. With everyone having a different aid station routine, runners left at different times, and I quickly found myself running alone. After about 4 hours with company, I was happy to get into my own groove and enjoy the day. The next few miles of trails featured some rocky single track with plenty of logs to jump over, which kept breaking my rhythm, and I quickly wished I had some company. Eventually we were dumped on a wide jeep trail that gradually climbed up, and I tried to focus on the runners ahead of me and behind me. While there were plenty of other runners around, no one seemed to want to engage in conversation, so we were all focusing on our own pace. I was pleased to finally reach the mile 28 aid station, grab a new bottle, and know that I was over halfway done. I did a quick ‘systems check’ at this point – energy felt good, legs felt good, no injuries so far, fingers weren’t swollen, still peeing…things were going well.

After another few miles on my own, yo-yoing with several other runners, we reached what I have dubbed the road to hell. In the middle of this crazy trail race, there was the longest section of road, with a gradual uphill, that just broke my spirit. I jogged up it, but was well aware that my feet were barely moving forward as I trudged up this hill. Was it a coincidence that the sun had finally come out and was heating up the pavement? I felt completely baked on this section. I was pleased to turn back onto the trails – I have no idea how long the road section was, but suffice it to say it was much longer than I wanted. I could feel my mouth getting dry, but my bottle was practically empty and I had no idea how far the next aid was.

I finally heard some cheering in front of me, and was pleased to see a nice couple with amazing enthusiasm. They cheered extra hard for me, as they exclaimed that they were both huge fans of Inov8 shoes! These folks cheered me into the mile 34 aid station, where I downed several glasses of water and refilled my bottles. I knew only 6 more miles to the next aid station (and a fresh bottle!). I did my best to remain focused, but knew that things were starting to go badly. Luckily the 50k and marathon runners route intersected with our route during this section, so I had many runners to catch and pass which lifted my spirit. At one point during this game of catch I was alarmed to see two of the 50-mile racers running back towards me, asking if I had seen any of our orange markers recently. I suddenly snapped out of my fog, and realized that I hadn’t seen any 50-mile markers in a long time – there were groups of flagging for the 50k and marathon racers, but the orange flagging for the 50-miler wasn’t included. Had we missed a turn? We all stopped and asked any runner around us (who were all 50k and marathon runners) if they had seen a turn for us or if they had noticed any orange flagging – no one had. One marathon runner had a course map in his pocket, but only for the marathon course, but we still studied it, hoping for clues. After several nervous minutes, we finally decided to continue forward. Luckily, a few more minutes down the trail we saw the orange flagging. We were relieved to be on the correct course, but annoyed to needlessly waste time.

A few miles later and I was almost into the mile 40 aid station. I was surrounded by marathon and 50k runners…and I literally watched one of them fall over in front of me. I quickly stopped to see if he was ok – and learned that the heat was causing his legs to cramp. I pulled out the rest of my salt tablets and forced him and his friend (who was running with them) to down two each. After making sure they were ok, I was off.


In and out of the 40 mile aid station, and I knew I was home free. Typically, this is the point in the race where I can start to taste the finish line, and I know I can push through anything for 10 miles. Unfortunately, this was not the case as I struggle over the next mile or so of parking lot after parking lot that we had to run through. These parking lots were so long that they were approximately 1 bajillion cones long, and seemed to last forever. I trudged through them, unaware of how slow I was going, but doing my best to maintain forward progress. I decided I clearly needed some energy, so I opened my water bottle, took a shot of it, and realized that I really didn’t like the flavor of what I had mixed in it – it tasted like paste and immediately turned my stomach. So, there I was, late in the race, with no fluids on me that were at all appealing, energy low, still 9 miles to the finish, and I felt like crap. I was insistent on jogging, but I knew that my stride was limited to only a few inches each step. I kept creeping forward, and bummed a few sips of fluid off Matt as he passed me like I was standing still. Other than Matt, however, no one else passed me, - I was amazed that folks weren’t flying past me as I pushed on. The trails had turned to rocky hiking trails with some bushwack sections, and some river beds to run down – they were extremely rough on unstable legs. I was having difficulty breathing, as each deep breath to calm myself down and try to open up the stride would elicit a strong cough that was immediately followed by a dry heave. After an agonizingly long time, I finally reached the next aid station, which I figured based on my time had to be mile 45 or 46…and I felt completely defeated to learn it was only mile 44. I had 6 more miles to go?!? I almost quit right there…I almost broke down in tears…I didn’t think this was fun anymore!

I dumped my gross water bottle, refilled it with appealing fluids, downed several glasses of water to make up for the last several miles where I hadn’t had anything, and started hiking up the trail. At least I would try to reach the finish line. I powered hiked past one marathon runner, and she watched in shock as I immediately doubled over. My world got very unsteady, things were spinning, and my legs felt strangely detached from my body. I bent over trying to regain my composure, and dry heaving into the ground. I almost walked back to the aid station to get a ride back…but luckily I’m pretty stubborn and didn’t want to have to explain a DNF to folks.

After power hiking another mile or so, I heard some cheerful, enthusiastic voices behind me, and looked back to see the #3 and #4 female in the 50-mile race about 30-seconds back. While I’m not surprised that they were there since I know how slow I was going, I was annoyed that I could quickly get knocked off the podium. Luckily, the combination of seeing them behind me, the fluids that I had downed at the aid station a few miles ago, and knowing that it was only 4 downhill miles to the finish…finally kicked me into gear and turned my stomach back enough to allow me to run. I took off, hoping to gap the girls on the technical downhill which was the next section. I raced forward, thinking that I at least wasn’t going to give up without a fight. Luckily, I was able to cruise the downhills and hold on to 2nd place female, but finishing well behind the time I was hoping for. Only 2 minutes behind me, the third place female cross the line (with her pacer – it wasn’t the 4th place girl afterall!). It took me several hours, some ginger ale, and some pickled ginger (oh, and a beer) for my stomach to feel normal again.


I was pleased to enjoy the finish line festivities and see several friends, new and old, cross the finish line, having accomplished their goal of finishing the Bear Mountain 50 mile race. (I was also pleased to learn the teammate Ben Nephew finished a strong 4th place, just a few minutes off the podium against one of the most stacked field an east coast race has seen in a while.)


It was a rough day – it sounds like most folks I talked to had issues – from nutritional/hydration issues, getting lost, bruises and bumps, or mental challenges with the technical slow course. I know that the course defeated me that day, but I was fortunate to still hold on to a podium spot after all was said and done. Luckily, except for my stomach issues my body held up well. My feet loved the 268s (no blisters, no foot issues), my legs felt completely fine after the race (with the exception of a few new war wounds) – I was able to go out the next day and pace a friend of mine for a portion of the GAC Mother’s Day 6-Hour Race.

The North Face put on an outstanding event, with several different races taking place, tons of athletes of all ability participating, enthusiastic aid station volunteers, and a huge festival at the finish line. I will likely be back again to seek revenge on the course. Congrats to all the racers who had the courage to pin on a number and take on the challenge…and extra congrats to those who reached the finish line.