2023 Laurel Highlands Ultra – 70.5 Miles

Laurel Highlands Ultra: race website | results

June 10, 2023, starting at 5:30 a.m. in Ohiopyle, PA

It was 2:35 a.m. and I unballed my only pair of socks to find that they were both lefts. And I forgot the cream I use to prevent blisters. The day was not off to a good start. 

I turned one of the socks inside out and wiggled all my toes into their homes for the next 24 hours. I finished getting dressed, ate a cookie and a handful of trail mix, and then shuffled out to my car. It was a 20-minute drive to the finish line, where I'd catch a nearly two-hour shuttle to the starting line.

These logistics shook up my usual pre-race routine. For peace of mind and predictability, I try to always do it the same. But hey, it was only going to be 70 miles. I was thinking that without any sarcasm at all. It's funny how once you've run a distance everything shorter than that can seem, well, short. 

The race started at 5:30 a.m., just as it was getting light. It wasn't quite light enough to go without a headlamp once we were in the woods, so I was glad I'd brought mine. 

Since I wasn't using any drop bags, it meant I'd have to carry it around all day, but that was fine. I was trying out a new pack with 17 liters of storage capacity, so there was plenty of space for it. 

As things got going, I started to realize my shoes and pack were heavy. I usually run with sandals, but I was wearing trail running shoes today—10 ounces on each foot may not sound like much, but it makes a difference, especially as the miles pile on. And as for the pack, since the aid stations would be sometimes over 10 miles apart, I had to carry plenty of water, meaning a few extra pounds of weight. 

But besides that, things were perfect. The weather was ideal: partly sunny (and the entire trail was shaded), starting in the high 40s and climbing into the 70s later in the day. No mud. 

Horses! Somewhere along the way

It was so idyllic I forgot the race had almost been canceled because of the air quality. For the prior week, wildfires in Canada had been sending smoke down along the eastern seaboard. That and choosing your steps between all the roots and rocks made it hard to think of anything else. 

The race felt crowded till the first aid station at mile 11. It was especially annoying since those miles included some long climbs on singletrack, and I tend to be a fast climber, relatively speaking. This meant I had to struggle to pass people on the climbs, and they had to struggle to pass me back on the descents. I tried my best to ride the escalator and not stress about it.

After about 20 miles my pack started chafing at my lower back. In training, it chafed at the top, and I'd found a solution to that (letting my water reservoir sag rather than pinning it up). Sometimes solving one problem creates another. My solution now was to use my shirt as a double barrier between the pack and my back. By midday it was hot enough out anyway, and the shade meant I didn't have to worry about sunburn. 

My legs were pretty tired after mile 30 or so. The longest climbs may have been behind me, but the trail would continue with ups and downs through to the finish. I walked a lot, pushing myself to run as much as I could, and always just focused on getting to the next aid station. I was happy to have music for a distraction.

Struggling around mile 40.
Photo by Ron Heerkens of Goat Factory Media.

Along the way I passed numerous hikers, including some who looked like thru-hikers. It was funny to think that I was covering in one day what they might do over five or six days. It's probably more lovely if you take your time. Among the thru-hikers were families (which warmed my heart) and a few crews of young guys in college or maybe fresh out of high school (which made me nostalgic).

The mile markers ticked by. I tripped many times but only fell once (yay). And I slowed and slowed but after mile 60 was able to pick things up a bit again. Of course, it was dark then, which brings its own challenges. 

Most trail ultras seem to finish in the open at a park or campground or school, so the final mile or two are often on roads or grass. But in this race, you hit the 70 mile marker and then plop into the finishing chute—where finally the roots and rocks don't follow you. 

It wasn't such a bad day after all. 

Things I learned: 

• I need to do more race-specific training, specifically on descents and on technical trail. I'm great on the climbs, I think from weightlifting, but I'm slow on the other parts. I do the vast majority of my running on city sidewalks, which doesn't do me any favors in training for races like this. 
• I need to train more in shoes to get my feet used to the weight. Maybe I'll get some ankle weights to wear sometimes. 
• I need to put to practice my cooling strategies, even on races like this where it doesn't seem too hot objectively, but it's still a lot of miles and warmer weather than most of my training has been in. Ice early and often. 
• I need to figure out how to make this pack not chafe... 
• Wearing toe socks, I didn't actually need to use Trail Toes. I only ended up with one blister, on the outside of my big toe, and I didn't know it was there till I took my shoes off.

If you get the chance to run Laurel Highlands, some suggestions: 

• Go with someone who can drive you to the start. That makes the logistics so much easier. And the start is right in town, so they can get a coffee and breakfast and hang out a while before chasing you down. 
• Plan for no cell reception. There were one or two patches of reception on the course, but don't plan on being able to call or text. 
• Beware of poison ivy. It lined pretty much the entire course. 
• For running after dark, I recommend a waist light (I use this one from UltrAspire) for this race rather than a headlamp. The light being lower means the shadows of roots and rocks stick out more, making them easier to see.