Viaduct Trail 100-Mile Ultramarathon / Race report 07/08/12 / (Short-version)
I ran 100-miles on the Viaduct-Trail, starting Saturday morning @ 5am, running the last 25-miles solo,
through mostly pitch-dark uphill, then downhill trails, illuminated with headlamp, finishing 22 hours and
30-minutes later, Sunday morning @ 3:30am.
It was the hardest run I have ever, or will ever do.
If you think you are strong, special, good, bad, tough, athletic, better than other people, brave, smart, in
really good-shape, a big-man, a beast, fast, an endurance athlete, sportsman, survivalist, mountain-man,
tough-guy, ball-breaker, or a machine, an animal, Ironman, real-man, or a marathoner, or just a plain
good old-fashioned bad-ass, then please go ahead and try to complete this run. I promise you will
reconsider.
Gratitude to my mother Mary, my father Herman, RD Carl Albright, RD Dave Kennedy, Hunt Bartine,
Melrose-Inn Vikky, Gerard Prilutski, Margie Hughes, TNT Tall Kevin, Wawa Chocolate Milk, RockStar
Energy Drink , and the Light & Savior of the World, Jesus Christ.
Extra-special, and most-immediate thanks to Peter McLaughlin, Jr., for his sacrifice, extraordinary
guidance, care and presence at the race – there is absolutely no way I could have completed this run
without him and the amazing TrailDawgs!
Signed,
Alex Osterneck
Viaduct Trail 100-mile Ultramarathon / Race Report 07/09/12 / (Long Version–best for participants)
New definition of trepidation: run 75-miles in 17-hours over challenging wilderness hilly rail-trails, only
to still face an additional, final 25-miles, solo, in the pitch-black dead-of-night, when all you want to do
is crawl-up in the fetal-position and sleep in your own bed.
I’d considered myself a member of the 100-mile club after completing the Philadelphia 100-Mile
Endurance Run on 04/08/12, in 35+ hours, running the first 50-miles in 10 hours, 20-minutes, then taking
full-advantage (with clock ticking, I drove home from the course twice, stopping for a 1000-yd cool-down
swim,) of the remaining 36-hour time limit. As fantastic as completing that run within the time-limit was,
it’s debatable now whether I’d include that 100-mile finish as qualifying for membership after the
Viaduct experience.
When I signed-up for Viaduct and saw the course was rail-trail, I incorrectly associated rail-trail with flat.
Fortunately for me, I briefly met the Race Director Carl Albright (himself a an accomplished
ultramarathoner, having completed 137-miles on the Viaduct course in the 2011 race,) two-weeks before
the race, at a brief volunteer activity, at which he was gracious enough to lead me and another Viaduct
entrant (an ex-Marine with a handshake grip that could quite literally break the bones in your hand if he
chose,) on a partial tour of the course. During the tour run, I thought I was being hi-jinxed – because I ran
the trail for exactly 90-minutes outbound, 88-minutes of which were uphill. Every time I crested a trail-
corner, I expected it to level off – I mean it’s a rail-trail, its supposed to be level – right??
On the eve of the race, I drove from suburban Philadelphia, PA north 3-hours to Luciana Park, and at
11pm pitched my (non boy-scout code,) tent, and then basically rolled around on the ground for 3-hours
before the 5am start. Later that day I marvelled at the crisp, perfectly-taut, and in some cases quite large
tents that were immaculately erected on the camp ground. On and off for decades I’ve swum, cycled and
run in some raw & exposed wildnerness, but I’m really nothing more than a big-baby and spoiled city-
slicker.
On race morning, the ultramarathoners were led out of Luciana Park and the Starrucca Viaduct (an
amazing display of building success – we’ll never see a structure built like this again, probably anywhere
in the world. Do yourself a favor, and in the least, research this glorious success of American ingenuity –
it was built in 1850, by 800 men, in a single year,) and temporarily said goodbye to the soft, warm glow,
comradery and good-feelings of the main-camp, and hello to the trail-adventures that awaited.
Running away from the park, down the main road - Viaduct Street - for ½-mile we made a left up
Jefferson Street, climbed a decent-grade ¼-mile to the mouth of the trail, demarcated by a lengthwise
telephone-pole, and took our first of countless steps on the trail. As my mind attempted to guestimate the
actual number of steps it would take to complete the 100-miles, it tangentally wandered to my favorite
example of the ironies of infinity and calculus. If a person stands 1 yard away from a wall, and upon each
new step, walks exactly half the distance between where they stand and the wall, they will take an infinite
number of steps, but never actually make it all the way to touch the wall with their foot. This thought was
not helping me, so I took the reciprocal, and told myself I’d take a finite number of steps and would in
fact make it to the finish-line.
We ran straight through the somewhat rocky, stony trail, flat for about 3-miles over the bridge, and then
another ½ mile over the road and into the hills. From here, it was a gradual, steady climb of 950-feet
uphill to the top turnaround at mile 12.5, with the exception of two brief, (the second one aggressive,)
dips where there had once been trestles.
Blessedly there was a mid-point aid-station, akin to an oasis of joy, organized and staffed by a very sweet
woman Vikky, and other smiling and compassionate volunteers. Vikky had been awake since 2am
Saturday morning in preperation for the run, to support not only her husband an accomplished
ultramarathoner, but all other entrants as well. On my final descent, I saw her one last time, at which point
she had been awake and in attendance for 24+ hours, an extraordinary volunteer sacrifice, compassionate
and kind the whole time.
Once at the 12.5-mile turnaround check-in the volunteers confirmed your name and distance, and then it
was back down the 12.5-mile trail to the main-camp. Along the way, at Bucks Falls (approximately mile
10 outbound, mile 15 inbound,) were the drop-bags. This area was managed and stationed, (in addition to
the turnaround,) by Race Director Dave Kennedy, and equally gracious, accomplished, considerate and
mindful director who “get’s it.” I believe Dave was the first runner 5-years ago to run and finish the
course, and thanks to his efforts this event blossomed.
Miles of the trail were more technical than at first blush. Though the trail is long and sweeping, there are
miles that have mini-gulleys, so that though you’re moving uphill outbound and dowhhill inbound, you
are also constantly altering your position on the trail for maximum footing, especially if you are
attempting to increase your pace. In other words, you will do a lot more zigging-and-zagging than you’d
imagaine.
Once you make it back down the trail and into the main-camp start/finish area with 25-miles under your
belt and a (hopefully,) great start to your run, you will relax a bit now that the unknown of the course is
now known. The unknown unknowns will present themselves later, but for now, its time to refresh mind,
body and spirit and head out for the second 25-miler!
Thanks to running side-by-side with the 2011 winner, Eli Weitzel, we completed the first 25-miles in 4-
hrs, 30-minutes. Eli is one of those individuals who has will-power that eclipses the rest of us. He’s what
I’d define as a strong runner - bigger, thicker muscles, and like a locomotive he keeps chugging-along for
hours.
I completed the second 25-miles in 5-hrs, 45-mins, including my 1st-transition. Over the course of the run,
my total transition-times would tally just under 1-hour, the longest of which was after mile 50, when I
required substantial attending to of my undercarriage for almost 40-minutes. Please note – you will likely
experience aggressive chafing on your inner thighs, etc, and you need to do yourself a huge favor by
being prepared with zinc-oxide and other first-aid remedies. When I first applied the antiseptic wipe to
my blood-red undercarriage, the sting in the entire highly sensitive area was unimagineable. And believe
me I’m actually sparing you the details. I need to be crystal-clear here: if it were not for Peter
McLaughlin, Jr. I would literally still be writhing in pain at the camp ground rather than writing this
report. Please do not allow this to happen to you, and please do not take this lightly.
During the 2nd 25-miler, the increasing heat & humidity suddenly changed to cold & rain, and the
temperature dropped by at least 20-degrees. I considered myself fortunate to now be shivering in July. An
hour later, the temperature warmed-up, and most fortunately the weather was exrtremely friendly the rest
of the run, (how previous years runners completed this course in August really does bewilder me, clearly
their overall workload was greatly increased under what must have been blast-furnace like heat and
humidity,) including an almost full-moon which was a welcome, bright companion when atop the course.
(The bottom and mid-point of the course moonlight was blocked by tree cover.)
After the 3rd 25-miler, I once again had the good fortune of being greeted and attended to by Pete
McLaughlin, Jr. I underestimated the power and importance of the presence of a respected, qualified,
experienced, caring sense at an ultramarathon. In retrospect, I should have generated stronger and faster
finishes from my previous solo ultra efforts of the last 4-years, had I trusted in the concept of a crew-
member. Being the belligerent, ignorant, bull-headed, clueless and (if you know me please feel free to fill
in the blank as you so choose…) fool that I am, I stubbornly dismissed the idea of a crew or pacer. There
is no doubt in my mind that if Pete was not there at Viaduct I would not have finished the run.
I left the main-camp at 10:10pm, with 75-miles finished, and the final 25-miles awaiting in the darkness. I
do not ever once in my life, except maybe as a child, remember being genuinely scared of the dark. There
were miles of the trail headed back-up to the turnaround in which I felt the most alone I have ever felt in
my life. I found reassurance in Peter’s words of working through the peak’s and valley’s in my mind by
literally placing one foot in front of the other, (I know that is a cliché, but in reality it is a beautifully
simple and effective remedy when the inevitable pain, doubt and exhaustion set-in,) and in seeing the
lights on other ultramarathoners headlamps headed toward me on the trail. I was very glad that I was not
the only one on the trail that night. And I also vividly recall thinking that if my batteries on my headlamp
fail, my race is finished. To this end, I alternated between periods of illumination, and switching off the
headlamp and walking / running in the dark. My system was to flash the light as far down the trail as
possible, switch it off, proceed, then repeat.
When I got to Bucks Falls, I was again relieved to be greeted by Dave Kennedy and another older
gentleman who I believe was either a 50-mile finisher, or still running the 100-miler. They had
illuminated a string of white-lights along the ground. It was mile 85, and about 1 a.m. Sunday morning.
Dave said the leader was about 24-minutes in front of me. In my slightly confused state, I simply said
“the leader?” thinking there was a trail-run leader on the course, akin to a scout-leader, not as in only 1-
runner left on the course to pass and actually maybe win this excrutiating run.
I cracked open my 2nd RockStar Energy drink of the run, and as I walked up the brief, steep, incline that
led to the final 87.5-mile turnaround (the same incline that on the way back I’d slip and fall on, [which
actaully increased my average minute-per-mile pace!]) and guzzled it down, I hoped a caffiene-jolt would
increase my mental and physical state. Fortunately it worked. I started running towards the
turnaround…but it seemed a really, really long time to get there compared to the three other times I ran to
it earlier in the day. That old marathon-adage of ‘who moved the finish-line?” morphed into the new
ultramarathon adage “Who moved the turnaround?”
After what seemed like a very, very long time, I finally saw two set’s of headlamps, one on the ground,
the other upright. To me it appeared the runners were on the side of the trail and were fixing their shoes,
or reaching into their camelbacks or regrouping… and as I ran past them, I simply said “is everything ok?
Are you guy’s alright?” keeping a steady and slowly increasing pace as I ran past them towards what I
hoped was the soon to appear turnaround. In the darkness on the trail I was seeking out a vehicle, which
had been posted at the turnaround during my three other turnaround check-ins. After running past the
runners they started yelling at me down the trail…so I finally stopped and finally understood they were
telling me that they were at the turnaround! I turned around and ran to them, at which point they showed
me the turnaround sign-in sheet on the table, replete with Snickers bars and a big box of Apples. Sweet!
I noticed Andrew, the leader, had signed the turnaround-sheet at 1:17am. It was now 1:25am, and as I
entered my turnarouind sign-in information time next to my name, I immediately realized a) I had caught
the leader Dave had told me about, b) He had been resting at the turnaround for 7-minutes, c) my pace
was quicker than his, and d) We both only had 12.5 miles left. I said to him that Andrew was the name of
one of my best buddies from childhood (an accomplished open-water-swimmer and Boston Marathon
Finisher, married to a top woman Master’s runner,) and that “we need to get this thing done!”
The magnitude of the day, the run, the distance, the time, the training, my age, my life, the volunteers, the
Heavens, the stars, and, yes, the RockStar Energy Drink all kicked-in at the same time, and all I know is I
took off like a shot. Or at least it felt like a shot. In actuality I was only running 9:58’s for the last
12.5miles. But under the conditions, it felt like 5:58’s. Still, it was my fastest 12.5-mile split of the day,
and as irrelevant as it is to the rest of the world or in the grand scheme, to me it was glory, and I honestly
question, at age 47, though I’m the strongest I’ve been, if I’ll ever reach that peak-performance under
those conditions and that level of mileage again.
My mind was now out of the dazed-fog I’d been succumbing to, and I now found myself pushing
probably about as hard as I ever have. It was pretty personal and pretty emotional. As I finally exited the
trail, downhill, back into civilization and the final ½ mile of paved road, I almost slammed directly into a
large metal pole, which, would have been pretty bad, but I swerved my slow-motion-flailing body out of
the way at the last moment.
I death shuffled towards the massive stone Viaduct, and once again, fortunately was greeted by the Race-
Director Carl Albright who ran with me into the finish-line, where Peter and some other runners and
volunteers greeted me and cheered me in, at 3:30am, 100-miles of Viaduct Trail and 22 hours and 30
minutes later. The moment, though before the sparsest crowd I have finished in front of, eclipsed all other
distance-events and races of my life and I consider myself extremely fortunate to have been able to
particpate in, finish, and win the small, low-key, but none-the-less brutally-challenging race.
For some odd reason, so few of these ultramarathon race-reports take note of an extraordinary
phenomenon – the increased participation of senior-citizens in these events. I saw at least 5 particpants on
the trails who were probably of retirement-age. And each one was smiling, and in possession of an
exemplary physique. There was (I assume,) a married couple who, when I last saw them on the trail had
been at it, together, for at least 18-hours. Equally inspiring was the 71-year old gentleman, I believe from
North Carolina, who, when I randomly encountered him on the trail (after I had finished and was on my
to the creek,) outbound for his final 25-mile leg, at 4am, was calm, relaxed, focused, even joyful, and who
had such composure and focus, as to ask me questions about my life. I repeat, this gentleman is 71 –years
old, he had covered at this point 80-miles, was alone, in the darkness, and was facing a 9-mile uphill trek
to the turnaround, and then an additional 12.5 miles to the main camp. I am proud of what I accomplished
on this 100 mile run. But when weighed on the scale next to this 71 year old gentleman, and the other
much older participants, my accomplishment is almost trivial to the point of obscurity. Our nation
unfortunately worships youth culture. As my dearly beloved mother says, “youth is wasted on the young.”
It is the endurance accomplishments of the 50, 60, 70!, 80!! and 90 and beyond!!! year-old age groups
that so obviously deserve so much more recognition and respect – because when you sit down and
contemplate the effort and results these Masters-age-groups achieve, on an age-adjusted basis, they
decimate the younger age-groups by a significant margin. Since I have not yet achieved the age of 50 or
older, I can only conjure that it is their respective life, mind and spiritual training that allows them to
endure such intense prolonged suffering in such an honorable state of grace. Again, it is painfully clear to
me that I am simply not worthy!
On a random note, I’d be remiss if I did not mention the ATV-caravan that went ripping-up the trail
during my 51st through 62nd miles. Picture if you will some fairly aggressive, perhaps slightly modified
(and clearly octane or horsepower-enhanced,) big, honking, 6-wheelers, each operated by a driver, the
shortest and lightest of which was 6ft 2inches tall and 250 lbs. We are talking beer-can swilling, crew-cut
wearing, tatoo-sporting, rip-snorting, good-ol’ boys (and their equals of the quite nice female variety,)
with hands as big as my feet. In total there were maybe 6 vehicles in their caravan. I thought to myself, if
that’s not America, I don’t know what is. Beer, tatoos, ATV’s in the mountains on the 4th of July weekend
with an almost full-moon rising, and certainly a soon-to-be-built bon-fire, flames blazing to lick the sky,
and yes, fireworks. And I could not help but thinking, you know what, if you gave me that 6 vehicle
ATV-caravan and put it up against any other another nation’s entire military, at least if it were in these
hills, those good ol’ boys and girls would kick-ass all over the place and send the enemy into retreat. And
that thought made me run harder and faster up the trail to the turnaround. The icing on the cake? The
ATV-caravan had actually fluffed-up miles of the trail, crushing the hard, stony, unforgiving rocks into
lovely, soft, cushioney cinders – like running on big, puffy clouds – words cannot describe the relief and
pleasure.
It’s my hope that this event grows much larger for next year, which will be it’s 6th season. First, the Race
Directors Carl Albright and Dave Kennedy are extraordinarily nice people who do a great job, as do their
volunteers. Second, the course is very challenging, but not to the point of stupidity, what I mean is, you
are still running the course, as oppossed to climbing with your hands and feet. Not that there is anything
wrong with climbing through (other,) courses with your hands and feet, but once you start using your
hands to climb, to me, you’re no longer running. And I’m even ok with crawling, because though you are
using your hands and feet, at least it could still be defined as an attempted run. Third, I really want to see
future endurance-athletes test themselves on this course. Maybe even include it as part of a 10-city
national 100-mile Ultramrathon series, with sponsors and legitimate and substantial prize money for the
elites, so unbelievably deserving for how unimaginably strong and fast they are. There are nicer
destinations to run a 100-mile Ultra, but you will probably pay a lot of money to do so. And there are
certainly many, many much worse places where you would not enjoy nearly as challenging or rewarding
an experience as Viaduct. It’s a very small area, but, any great Ultra, like Viaduct, is by design going to
be in a remote area. And for a free event that is a 3-hour drive from home, and has a nice airport nearby,
surrounded by such high-quality people, you absolutely cannot beat it.
Running is one of the very few sports you can do both solo and with others, for a lifetime. Minute-for-
minute and dollar-for-dollar, there is no more effective way to get in and stay in truly life-changing and
life-improving shape, both quantitatively and qualitatively. On a personal note, at age 47, I have never
been able to run farther, or faster, and have never been stronger than at any other point of my life. I
understand the laws of nature dictate that will change for me in the future, but for now, I’m still on the
ascent.
Last, there are not many people in the country who’d enter, let alone finish a 100-mile run through
wilderness trails. It’s a really, really hard and extremely well-earned accomplishment, to complete a 100-
mile trail-Ultra, and once you get to the finish-line, you will have transcended a wide range of thoughts
and feelings, and I promise you, you will tap into places within yourself you never knew about. It is very
difficult, but once you get across the finish line and recover you will be a much stronger, wiser and
smarter person for it all. I strongly encourage you to rise up and meet the challenges and rewards that
await you at Viaduct. For me, at least for the next day or so, it’s time for that fetal-position in my own bed
thing.
Happy Trails!!
Alex Osterneck
Ambler, PA
July 9, 2012