By Todd Reutlinger
March 3rd, 2020, was a big day for me. It was the day I finalized my race schedule for the year. I was already registered for Riverlands 100 in May and Vermont 100 in July, but it took some time to decide what direction I would go from there. There were so many great races, but I had to decide what my focus would be for the second half of the year. What was my goal, and what races were going to help me achieve it?
2019 was all about redemption. The year prior, I DNF'd at Great Cranberry Island 100 due to a nagging, months-long injury. That was my first DNF, and it hurt. Having to tell a race director you can't continue sucks. Having to wait for a ferry after dropping out sucks even more. But, calling your partner who just drove three hours after preparing food all morning for you and having to tell her, "Don't get on the ferry. I pulled out. I need to go home and sleep in my own bed," sucks the most. Even though I believe it was the right decision to remove myself from the race, it was still a bummer. I knew I had to go back and prove to myself I could do the damn thing. So I spent way too much time on treadmills during the winter and spent way more time on roads than I would have preferred, but I wanted to be as best prepared as I could.
On race day, I felt prepared and full of fire. The previous year's failure fueled me from the start and through some dark times in the race. I went out fast and led almost the entire race (shout out to Bradford for keeping me honest!). I had something to prove and wanted everyone to know I had a why.
So what's next? How do I follow up a year with the highlight being a 100 mile personal record? What would make me the happiest?
I knew Vermont 100 was going to be my "A" race for 2020. I had put up a sub 24 hour time at Vermont in 2018 and felt like I could improve on that time. If I were to have a perfect day, sub-20 hours seemed attainable. Running Riverlands 100 as my "B" race two months before Vermont would give me a good gauge on that goal. However, I didn't want my big goals for the season to be over in July.
I decided 2020 would be the "Year of Long." I was going to leave it all out there at Vermont, but the rest of the year was about preparing myself to go farther than I've gone before. I had a pretty good feel for how my body reacts and feels after 23 hours and 100 miles, but how would it feel after 30 hours and 100+ miles? I didn't know but wanted to find out. So, I signed up for two 30 hour races, Ghost Train Rail Trail Races, and The Hamsterwheel, in order to push my boundaries. I also strategically mixed in a handful of 50K+ races for some "time on feet" training. On March 3rd, I pulled the trigger and gave a small fortune to Ultrasignup.com. I had my schedule. I had my motivation. I had my why.
Then, as you know, everything changed. Races were canceled, and my carefully thought out race schedule unraveled. "Screw it," I thought, "I'll make my own adventure."
Have you ever had those thoughts of "it would be cool to do XYZ" or "I always wanted to do this or that?" We all have. The problem is we don't put those thoughts into action. Well, now was my time to take action.
Over two years ago, I talked to a friend about how cool it would be to run the Eastern Trail from South Portland, Maine to Portsmouth, New Hampshire. It's just over 65 miles and relatively flat. The logistics would be fairly easy, and crewing would be pretty straightforward.
Here's my chance. I'm going to go do the thing! So, on June 21st, I went out and did the thing with the assistance of my partner, Catalina, who drove my resupply van and met me along the route. It felt good setting the OKT/FKT, but it felt better offering up that route to my friends with a challenge for them to beat my time, hoping that might give someone enough of a why.
Races are still being canceled. 2020 is still the year of long.
I started doing some in depth research on the East Coast Greenway and its route in Maine. I discovered that the Down East Sunrise Trail is the longest (87 miles) off-road section of the entire 3,000 mile route. Well, it only made sense I run this trail next. It was another opportunity to push myself and to set another OKT/FKT. I talked to some other folks and found out they wanted to run this route solo as well, but never had. This gave me even more motivation to set a time so that maybe others would go out to try and break it. In a world with no races, we could still have competition. This was my why.
Here's where I messed up. Crow Athletics hosts the Down East Sunrise Trail Relay Race every year that uses most of the Down East Sunrise Trail plus an additional 17ish miles to Eastport. So, my thought process was, "Well, if I'm already doing 87 miles, what's another 17?" I wasn't attached to the idea, and it was probably a mixture of cockiness and convenience for stating I would do the relay as a solo event.
I fought hard for 18 hours and 38 minutes to make it the 87 miles to Ayers Junction from Ellsworth. I had no why for taking another step towards Eastport after the terminus of the trail. I wasn't invested in the extra 17 miles. I was stumbling, tired, cold, cranky, and felt like complete garbage. There was no chance of me continuing on without a good reason, and I didn't have one that day. Hell, even at mile 60, I was having problems justifying the bonus miles. They were just an afterthought.
Todd along the Down East Sunrise Trail
I didn't deserve to make it to Eastport that day because I didn't have a good enough answer when I asked myself, "Why?"
“If we don't have a good reason for why we are doing something, we don't have a good reason to fight for it.”
I had put hours into researching, planning, and dreaming about setting the OKT/FKT on the Down East Sunrise Trail. I had an attachment to the trail since I just finished the second longest section of the East Coast Greenway in Maine four weeks prior. I had made it a goal to run every section of the ECG after I completed DEST, so I had to finish it. I had so many good reasons to keep going when things got tough during those first 87 miles. All I had done to prepare for the "bonus" miles was print off some maps. If we don't have a good reason for why we are doing something, we don't have a good reason to fight for it.
About the Author
Todd is an ultrarunner and snowboarder "from away" but currently resides in South Portland, Maine, with his partner Catalina. After college, Todd spent a few years pursuing a professional soccer contract and found ultrarunning along the way. When he's not running, he's at Fleet Feet Maine Running, helping others along their running journeys.
