VST article

Run 50 miles or mountain bike 50 miles

In the VASS 50-miler

From the May 2002 issue of Vermont Sports Today

By Larry Olmsted

The reasons riders and runners find the VASS 50-miler so appealing are the very same ones that caused me to stop participating in it. In 1995, when I first entered, the race was still in its infancy, at least for those of us on mountain bikes. Vermont Adaptive Ski and Sports had long held 50- and 100-mile races for ultra-marathoners, and opening the event to mountain bikers proved to be a watershed decision that led to the state of the race in 2002, where bikers outnumber runners four to one, and their numbers have to be capped due to the overwhelming popularity of the race.

Entering in 1995 was a personal test. I was relatively new to mountain biking at the time, and 50 miles over half dirt road and half singletrack seemed an almost impossible distance, far more difficult than the typical road bikers' century. Like marathoners, most of the bikers were in it to simply finish, with only a small hardcore group vying for the winning positions. But unlike marathoners, no one really knew what their times would be, and had no clear-cut goal such as a 2:48 time for 26.2 miles. It was the challenge that attracted me, the camaraderie that brought me back the next year, and the race infrastructure that would keep me out of it until fall, 2001.

Frankly, I was as surprised as anyone at how fabulously bikers and runners got along. While the elite riders never saw their fleet-footed counterparts, those of us in the middle of the pack did, and instead of jostling for position on the skinny trails, we took great pains to get out of each others way, and used the often lengthy climbs to exchange our reasons for participating. The feel-good sentiment of the event was so pronounced that two entrants, Deb Schieffer and Scott Livingston, representing both sides of the biking/running coin, parlayed their first conversation into a marriage that continues to this day, and their relationship includes an annual return to Mt. Ascutney to slog it out over an ever-more difficult 50-mile routing. But newfound friendships and short-term conversations are not limited to these mixed pairs, as shortly into the race, both runners and bikers fall into small packs of equals, and end up toe-to-toe or toeclip-to-toeclip for hours at a time. We couldn't help but strike up conversations, if only for the mental distraction on the many grueling climbs.

Vermont Adaptive Ski and Sports is a non-profit organization that helps those with handicaps adapt and participate in many sports, especially skiing. The organization raises money in a variety of ways, but their two big funding events are the fall 50-mile running and biking race and the even more demanding 100-mile running race, which takes place in July and stretches through Hartland, Brownsville, Windsor, Woodstock and Pomfret, lasting all through the night. Mountain bikers have repeatedly expressed interest in the event, but to date it has been only for runners. Having ridden the 100-mile route during the race as a volunteer sweeper, mostly in the muddy dark, I can attest that it would have limited popularity as a bikers' event, and even then only for masochists.

The 50 is a vastly different story, and is so much in demand that registration is limited to 650 bikers and usually sells out quickly (there is no limit on runners, and the race usually garners about 125 entries). The main reason for this is that the race is held almost entirely on privately owned lands, and many of the generous landowners balked at the ever increasing number of knobbies coming through their lots. Due to land changing hands and constant tweaking of logistics and permissions, the route has also changed each year.

The route, mostly designed by Hartland's Lou Schmertz, who first got me into the sport and has a penchant for always finding a way to go further uphill, has also gotten consistently more difficult. In fact, last year's race slid in an extra mile or two, a good reason to not have a computer and thus avoid disappointment when mile 50 rolls around and you are still climbing Mt. Ascutney. In any case, whatever changes have occurred annually, the race still finishes as it always has, with its single toughest climb, a 2-3 mile slog up Ascutney entirely on trails.

My reasons for stopping were far more altruistic than my reason for entering. The race is incredibly well supported by the community and volunteers, who are needed in large numbers to man the many aid stations, serve food, hand out t-shirts, man the timing clocks, mark the trails in advance and clean up afterwards. In my first race, my attention was focused on the ride and my fellow jovial participants, but in my second year, I really took notice of the hard work going on around the periphery of the race, especially at the aid stations. Operating these is no small feat, as the staffers count and mark off the identifying numbers of racers, who often come screaming through in packs of 20, while handing out cups of water and sports drink at breakneck speed, and somehow managing to make an endless succession of sandwiches and cut-up fruit and potatoes. Each station can require more than a dozen volunteers, and there are about 10 stations in the 50-miler.

Running a station is as rewarding as participating in the race, and several regular crews take the same location each year, going so far as to decorate with themes and add their own special touches, from music to special treats. Competition has gotten so fierce that this year there will be a theme contest between the aid stations, with racers casting their votes. I stopped riding and began running the aid station located at the Skunk Hollow Tavern in Hartland, and kept at it for four years. This and the riding required to help mark and unmark the race route were more than enough activity.

If the race itself fosters camaraderie, than this effect is doubled for the volunteers, without whom the event would not exist. I managed to do both last year, returning to the course as a race marshal, and riding the entire route in a volunteer capacity. Upcoming shoulder surgery, as a result of mountain biking, will keep me out this fall, but if you enter, you will find me handing out food and drinks at the Skunk Hollow Tavern. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

This year's 50-miler will be held on September 29th, and registration opened online on April 15th at www.vermont50.com. The cost is $55, which, as always, includes dinner afterwards and of course, some beers from loyal local sponsor Catamount Brewing Company. So run or ride if you can, but consider volunteering to VASS (www.vass.org) if you cannot, because in either case you will have a long, but rewarding day.

Larry Olmsted, an avid mountain biker and skier, lives in Hartland Four Corners, VT and writes books and articles on travel and sports topics for a wide variety of national publications including Men's Health, Playboy, Cigar Aficionado, Wine Spectator, several golf magazines and several in-flight magazines.