Eastern States 100: One Hour to Spare
But that was also the appeal.
I wanted to do something different. Eastern States is the final race in the Pennsylvania Triple Crown, and it had the kind of profile that immediately got my attention. I love elevation. I love races that feel like they are shaped by the terrain rather than simply laid across it. I was also familiar with Pennsylvania trails from running the Laurel Highlands 70 miler in 2020 as well as the Oil Creek course (Thanks Amanda and Kevin!) and the first two races in the three-race series; Hyner Trail Challenge 50k and Worlds End 100k, so the rocks, roots, steep climbs, and remote forest sections were intimidating but not foreign. Even with my familiarity of the terrain the race eluded me. It may have been that I asked a friend, Chase Mohr, to pace me because I have never had planned a pacer for a race. Maybe it was the distance between the aid stations, because the distances were significantly more challenging than anything I have raced in a 100 miler.
The preparation became its own project.
I used AI quite a bit leading into the race, probably more than I expected when the whole process started. I used it to generate spreadsheets, build race plans, organize drop bags, think through nutrition, compare aid station timing, and generally turn a huge, messy race into something I could break down and understand. I also used Chase's 2025 race as a baseline. Chase would be crewing and pacing me, and his splits from the previous year gave me a realistic model for when I might reach each aid station. It helped keep me honest. The goal was not to obsess over exact times, but to have a framework for the day and night ahead.
At the last minute I was fortunate enough to have my good friend Eric Toepke along for the adventure. I think this was one of the missing pieces for me. Having Eric with me gave me some much-needed comfort for not only the drive out but knowing that he would be there for me at mile 63 Tombs Flats in the middle of the night. Eric was my one-man Nascar pit-crew for the 2025 Marji Gesick 110-mile trail race last year and he did a phenomenal job. That was important because Eastern States is not a race where you want to improvise everything and I knew that if I got into trouble, he would be there for me.
Race Morning
The course starts and finishes at Little Pine State Park, and Eric and I stayed nearby at Happy Acres in the Chipmunk Crossing cabin. That made race morning about as easy as a 100-mile race morning can be. I was up around 2:30 AM and stuck with the breakfast I had planned: waffles, avocado, and my high-octane beverage of choice, Christopher Bean Coffee.
There was no warm-up run. For a 100-mile race, the first few miles can take care of that.
We arrived at the start around 4:10 AM. After placing my drop bags at the pavilion, we met up with Carolyn Hinkle, who was also racing, along with Rick Hohman and a few other Ohio natives. Those moments before a race like this are always strange. There is nervous energy everywhere, but also a weird calm. Everyone knows what is coming, but no one really knows what kind of day they are going to have.
The race started at 5:00 AM, and from the first few miles, the goal was simple: stay controlled.
I did not want to let the excitement of the start write checks my body would have to cash 20 or 30 hours later. The plan was to keep the effort boring early, protect my legs, eat before I needed to, drink before I was behind, and think only as far ahead as the next aid station.
Start to Hyner: Controlled, Intentional, and Already Managing the Foot Problems
Carolyn and I on the first big climb
The plan for the first part of the race was to stay controlled, and for the first 32 miles, that is exactly what I did.
I was very intentional about not getting pulled into anything too early. Eastern States has a way of punishing impatience, and I knew that if I wanted to have a real chance late in the race, I needed to make the first third feel almost boring. The climbs were challenging, but they never felt hard in a way that concerned me. My legs were good. I was moving well. I felt in control.
I stayed with Carolyn for nearly all of the first 43 miles into Hyner, which helped keep the rhythm steady. We moved through the early aid stations with purpose. I was deliberate every time: eat something, fill bottles, reload what needed reloaded, and often fill and drink a third bottle before leaving so I could stay ahead on hydration. My mouth never felt dry, and I never felt thirsty, which felt like a good sign given how much humidity was already in the air. I was quickly soaked head to toe, no bueno for my feet.
The first real crew stop came at Lower Pine Bottom, where I met Chase. That stop was mostly about staying proactive. I changed shirts, got rid of gel packet trash, reloaded fluid powders and gels, ate pierogies, and filled up my ice bandana. I also changed socks because the humidity had me sweating so much that everything was already soaked. I knew keeping my feet dry, or at least managing the damage from wet feet, was going to be a major factor throughout the day.
From there, the goal stayed the same: keep things calm, keep eating, keep drinking, and keep the effort under control. Carolyn beat me out of the aid station, but I managed to catch her within a few miles, and we stayed together through the next few aid stations.
I arrived at Hyner with Carolyn. She left just ahead of me with her pacer, Jared, but I had to take more time there to deal with my feet. The skin on both big toes and around the forefoot had started to macerate. It was one of the first clear signs that the race was going to require problem-solving, and it meant I needed extra time to take care of thing otherwise it would probably end my race by the time I arrive at Tombs Flats (mile 63).
Rick came to the rescue with blister powder, which we loaded into a fresh pair of socks. Chase helped me reload my vest and change shirts, and Tiffany helped me cut new Leukotape for my toes because the original tape was so saturated that it came off as soon as I removed my sweat-soaked socks.
Even with the foot issue, the stop was productive. My stomach was still great, and I was able to eat two big cups of hot ramen and drink some ginger ale. I also grabbed my headlamp and waist lamp and put them in the back of my vest. I knew I still had probably two to two and a half hours of daylight before I would need them, but I wanted to have everything with me before the race shifted into night mode.
Once everything was handled, I left Hyner and moved on to the next section.
Hyner to Tomb Flats: The Race Gets Dark
Leaving Hyner, my feet felt better.
Hyner was not just a sock change. I changed shoes there too. Between the new shoes, fresh socks, blister powder, and fresh tape, the maceration seemed under control for the moment. For the next five to ten miles, my feet felt pretty good. Eventually the pain started to creep back in, but at least the situation had been stabilized. Thanks to the incredible help from Chase, Tiffany, and Rick!! Ya'll are so incredibly awesome!!
Carolyn was well ahead of me after Hyner, but that did not change my mindset. I was still pacing intentionally. I knew that if I tried to chase her down, I would be burning matches from a very small matchbook. That had been the whole point of the day so far: stay controlled, stay patient, and do not give the race anything for free.
I pulled my lights out and put them on before 8:00 PM, or somewhere around there. The lighting setup ended up being one of the best gear decisions of the race. Both lights were amazing, and one battery in each device lasted the entire night. I never had to change a battery, even though I had several spares just in case. That was one less problem to solve.
My stomach was still pretty good, but I was starting to struggle to eat enough. Part of that was because the trail demanded so much attention. It was hard to stay focused on technical footing, manage the night, and keep forcing calories in. I was drinking fairly well and finishing my bottles as best I could. At the aid stations, I ate what sounded good, which usually meant ramen if they had it, or some kind of potato option. Nothing sweet.
I saw one snake on the trail, fairly certain it was a small copperhead. I waited a few seconds, stomped my foot to create some vibrations, and sure enough it slithered off the trail enough for me to continue.
I honestly do not remember much from Dry Run or Big Trail aid stations. I was not all that tired yet, but I wanted to keep moving. After Hyner, my biggest goal was to get to Tomb Flats, where Eric would be crewing me. Chase was getting some rest because he would meet me later at Blackwell and pace me to the finish.
Eventually, I did catch up to Carolyn and Jared, maybe an hour to an hour and a half before Tomb Flats. I am pretty sure it was already dark when I passed them. It looked like she had hit a low point, so I asked if she needed anything. I also knew she would turn it around. That is part of these races too. Everyone gets to a low point and will rally back.
The humidity never really went away. It dropped enough to notice, but not enough to feel like true relief. I was soaked the entire time. Because it stayed warm and humid, I never got cold, but nothing was drying either. Everything was wet, and my feet were going to continue being a race-long problem.
The creek crossing before Tomb Flats was one part I had actually been looking forward to. When I got there, I took hold of the line and was warned about the significant drop-off about five feet in. I used my poles to stabilize myself and feel for where the drop was. It was deeper than I expected, and I was glad I had my phone in a baggy because the water came above my waistline.
The water current was not a major issue, and I made it across fine. The crowd on the other side was amazing. Hearing all that cheering after a dark, wet crossing gave me a huge mental lift.
By the time I reached Tomb Flats, the blister powder seemed to have done its job. The maceration had not gotten worse. My feet still hurt, but the skin looked much less white than it had at Hyner, which was a major win. I did not need to retape, thankfully.
Tomb Flats became a full reset. It took me a little while to get my bearings because I wanted a full clothes change, which I did in a porta-john. It was raining slightly, so there was some concern about changing into dry clothes while also trying to keep my feet dry long enough for the sock change and my third and final shoe change.
Rick Hohman was there again, and Eric was there to help me navigate the whole process. They helped me get changed, reload everything into a fresh, dry vest, make sure I had my lights, and get everything I needed before I headed over to grab food at the aid station.
Looking back at the GPS data, I spent roughly 30 to 36 minutes at Tomb Flats. That was a long stop, but it was not wasted time. It was a full reset: clothes, socks, shoes, feet, vest, lights, calories, and a mental reboot before heading into the next part of the night. I feel like I did well at not stopping, being intentional with getting everything I needed, and got out.
After the sock and shoe change, my feet felt better again. We added more blister powder to the new socks because it seemed to be working. The rocky terrain meant my feet still hurt, and there was not much I could do about that, but the skin problem seemed under control.
At that point, the only thing left to do was push on.
The full reset at Tomb Flats was great, and it was much needed.
I left with a fresh vest, dry clothes, fresh socks, and my third and final shoe change. My mindset was still really good, and I was moving well. Before heading out, I ate more pierogies and salted potatoes, then started into the one flat mile before the course hit the Black Forest Trail climb.
I was solo at that point with no one around me, but I was familiar with the climb. I had done it back in 2018 when I was there for a cycling camp with my former cycling coach. That helped. Even in the middle of the night, it was nice to have some familiarity with what was coming. I recognized a lot of the rock formations and the overlook at the top, which was now pitch black.
For whatever reason, I was not tired. I had not taken any caffeine yet, although I had a few Enervit caffeine gels with me for when I needed them. I kept waiting for that deep overnight sleepiness to show up, but through this section, it never really did.
Eating was getting harder, though. I was eating fewer gels and leaning more into the aid station foods. Ramen, pierogies, potatoes, anything salty and not sweet was much easier to get down. My stomach was still working, but it took more effort to keep feeding it. I had a few small bouts of possible nausea creeping in and to prevent it, I simply stopped eating and drinking. I know ... not the best solution but it works for me. It also meant I would be digging a deeper nutrition hole. Meh.
My feet were the biggest problem. Climbing still felt good, and I could still run on flatter sections, but the descents were getting very painful. My feet ached from the rocky terrain and from smashing into the front of my shoes over and over. There was not much I could do about that except keep moving.
After the big climb up the Black Forest Trail, I remember there being some runnable sections, but the descent into Cedar Run was slow for me. I passed some runners in the darkness, but I kept hearing them behind me. They would get closer, then farther away, then closer again. For some reason, that started to frustrate me. It was not a major concern, but I could not seem to get a clean gap on them, and in the middle of the night, little things can get strangely irritating.
Looking back at the GPS data, I reached Cedar Run around 3:29 AM. I knew I wanted to reach Blackwell around 6:30 AM. I ended up getting there around 6:45, after another rough descent. When I came in, the first thing I asked Chase and Tiffany was whether I could go to the medical tent. That may have put a bit of nervousness in them, but I assured them it was merely for my feet.
My feet hurt so much, and I wanted to see if anyone could do anything for me. It's not like me to stop, but again I knew full well if I did not try to do something then my race could end at some point. Fortunately, there was a foot doctor there. He added moleskin to my big right toe, then cleaned and wrapped both toes for extra protection. It helped, but the damage was already done. At that point, we were not fixing my feet. We were just trying to protect them enough to keep me moving to the finish.
Tiffany and Chase were fantastic again. They helped get me reset and ready to go. Chase helped me get food at the aid station, and I ate two small Belgian waffles with syrup, which tasted amazing. I was hungry, and after hours of eating very little food, those waffles actually sounded and tasted amazing!
Then Chase and I left Blackwell together and I was able to get into a jog right away, at least until the big climb out of Blackwell began. We had 4.5 miles to SkyTop. I think Chase may have been more excited to get to SkyTop than I was so that I could experience the amazing aid station food that was waiting for us.
Not sure why I am smiling. LOL
Blackwell to Barrens: The Wheels Start to Come Off
Having Chase with me after Blackwell was comforting.
I had never had a planned pacer before, but he was a rockstar. The gold standard of pacers. After being solo through the night, it helped to have someone there whose only job was to keep me moving, keep me focused, and help manage the problems that were starting to pile up.
The climb out of Blackwell was hard, but manageable. I was tired, but I was still moving well. Unlike some of the climbs that would come later after Sky Top, I never had to stop for long on that climb. My legs were still doing their job. The real problem was my feet.
They just hurt.
On descents, every step felt like daggers. The foot doctor at Blackwell had helped protect the damaged areas, but nothing was going to make the pain disappear. I could still move well on climbs and flats, but descending was becoming slower and more painful with each section.
Somewhere close to Sky Top, there was a bullhorn you could sound off to let the aid station know a runner was coming. That was a fun touch and Chase took the lead on sounding it off. I just wasn't in the mood.
Reaching SkyTop, it was like entering a fine dining restaurant. They took care of me, waited on my hand and foot. Truly a spectacular aid station.
I ate three fresh blueberry pancakes with syrup and drank about five or six mini cups of Coke. They could not believe how well I was eating. Everyone was so kind and amazing. That was true of all the aid stations, but the people at Sky Top went above and beyond. It felt like next-level service at exactly the point in the race when I needed it.
When Chase and I left Sky Top, I actually felt satisfied. We also carried out a couple of plain pancakes for the eight-mile trek to Barrens.
Eight miles. Oof.
That is where the wheels really started to come off the wagon.
There was a nice long grassy section where I managed to put in some easy jogging, but it was short-lived. From there it became hike a lot, jog for what I would tolerate, rinse and repeat. The warmth was also creeping back in, and I kept staring at my watch thinking I would never make it to Barrens, let alone the finish line.
The trek to Barrens was mind-numbingly long. It felt like an eternity.
My feet were in so much pain, and Chase kept talking to me, encouraging me, and doing everything he could to keep my mind on other things. Bad jokes and all but honestly, I loved it when he was talking. It gave me something else to focus on. Sometimes it worked. Then my tired brain would latch right back onto my feet, the fatigue, and how far there still was to go.
Reaching Barrens was great, but my brain immediately grabbed onto the next impossible task: ten more miles.
At Barrens, I ate two cups of ramen, drank more Coke, refilled my bottles, and had a piece of watermelon. It all tasted good, but I also knew any energy spike I got from it would be short-lived. I had eaten one of the spare Sky Top pancakes on the way to Barrens, so we still had one left.
Then we were off again.
Six miles to Hackett, the water-only aid station, with a fair number of climbs and descents still waiting for us. Each one drained a little more of whatever energy I had left.
Barrens to Hackett: The Race Becomes Not Quitting
Leaving Barrens, I worked hard not to think about the fact that there were still ten miles left.
Ten miles was too much. Ten miles felt impossible. So I tried to shrink the race down to the next thing: six miles to Hackett.
When we left, one of the four runners from Japan was with us, and we chatted on and off for a couple miles. That helped for a little while. But eventually I started needing breaks where I would bend over my poles, reset my brain, and try to convince myself to keep going. I was dunking my hat and arms in every stream crossing just to cool off. I was still overheating, and the short stretches in full sun were miserable.
Chase kept asking me to eat a gel or take in anything that might give me more energy, but I was done with gels. Completely done. I was still drinking, though, and at one point I had to stop to pee in the woods, so at least I knew I was still hydrating well.
I kept looking at my watch, watching the miles tick away painfully slowly, and thinking how good it would feel to simply stop and be done. A nice dirt nap.
Chase was there the whole time, reminding me of the Pennsylvania Triple Crown I wanted to complete. He told me he understood how I felt and that I could keep pushing through it to reach the finish line. At that point, we were yo-yoing with other runners who were also giving everything they had just to get to Little Pine. Then groups of runners started passing me, seemingly out of nowhere.
It felt endless.
I could not understand how so many people were still moving that well. Where were they finding the energy? How were their feet not in pain?
The truth, of course, is that they were all in pain too. They were just finding a way to push through it.
We finally reached Hackett. Thank goodness.
There were 3.8 miles left, and somehow that still felt like an eternity. I got one final bottle refill, and then we were off toward the elusive finish line.
Hackett to the Finish: One More Hour of Torture
Almost immediately after leaving Hackett, the trail dropped into a descent, which was exactly what I did not want. As soon as we crossed the road and I saw the drop, I started complaining to Chase. At that point, there was going to be a lot of descending because we were still up high and needed to get back down to Little Pine.
I was in and out of nearly breaking down crying. I choked up several times, unbeknownst to Chase, because I was trying to stay as quiet as I could. But inside, I was completely shut down.
Chase had told me a bit about Panther Run, the final drop down into Little Pine State Park. There were only 3.8 miles remaining, but in my head, it might as well have been 20. It felt insurmountable. Chase kept telling me we were on the final stretch, but I knew full well that it was still going to take me over an hour. And that only meant one thing: another hour of pure torture through my feet.
For a while, I still had a small hope that I might finish under 35 hours. But as the miles ticked away, slowly and painfully, I cared less and less about breaking 35 hours. I only cared about stopping the pain.
As we got closer to the end of Panther Run, the trail became even chunkier, with large boulders I had to use my poles to get down from. This happened six or seven times. Like one last sick joke. Eventually, the trail dropped us down to the well-known snake den.
When we arrived, there was a gentleman standing near the den telling runners to stay on the trail and not worry when we heard 'her,' because she was only letting us know she did not want us near her. I glanced over and saw part of the body of the largest rattlesnake I have ever seen sticking out of the den.
Wow.
The final stretch, less than a mile, was a rocky switchback descent. I was tired of tiptoeing my way downhill only to get passed by more runners and there were more coming up behind us, so I did what I could to send it.
At that point, 'sending it' was still very slow. But I ran it. I did not walk it. I did not hike it. I ran.
The pain in my feet kept increasing, and I kept saying how much it sucked. Chase kept encouraging me to keep pushing because the finish line was so close.
Finally, we reached the end of the trail. Chase helped guide me over the bridge and gave me final directions on how to follow the cones around to the final chute. I ran the whole thing, at a very pathetic pace, but I ran it.
And then I crossed the finish line.
As I crossed, and even a little before, the tears started. I could not hold them back anymore.
I finished Eastern States 100 in 35 hours and 2 minutes.
Chase had run around to see me at the finish line, and his wonderful wife Tiffany was there too. I am not sure which one of them captured the photos and video, but they got some great finish line memories for me. Amazing friends.
The announcer and race director called out my name as I crossed and announced that I was also a Pennsylvania Triple Crown finisher. I received not only my Eastern States 100 buckle, but also an Eastern States 100 blanket as additional PA Triple Crown swag.
The emotions just kept coming. I was in and out of crying, hit by waves of everything I had held back for miles. I kept trying to tell Chase that I couldn't have done it without him, but I struggled getting the words out over the emotions.
I still get choked up when I think about what I went through to finish that race. This one is going to take some time to settle in.
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