Lord willing and the creek don't rise...
It's Eastern States weekend!
"Lord willing and the creek don't rise" serves as a reminder of the unpredictability of life and the importance of humility in our plans. It encourages a positive outlook while acknowledging that some factors are beyond our control.
(Perplexity AI summary)
It’s the second weekend of August, and for a few bright moments, the Wilds region of the Allegheny Plateau in north-central Pennsylvania will once again be the center of the ultra-running universe (or at least our slightly biased subset of that universe —we love this race and we love these mountains) as about 300 runners journey to Little Pine State Park for this year’s running of the Eastern States 100.
And this year, the creeks… they are a-rising.
The remnants of hurricane Debby are supposed to dump about 3 inches of rain on the plateau on Friday, and Pine Creek, which runs right down the middle of our 100+ mile loop, will likely transform from its normal friendly-and-mild state into a torrent, will likely rise up out of its banks as a temporary monster, and force some changes to the race:
Significant portions of the start/finish line and race HQ will likely be underwater. So the race team has moved the line (adding 2.5 miles and yet another 900-foot climb to the route).
The Tomb Flats aid station will almost surely be underwater, and the water crossing at that site will be unworkable — water that was waist-deep last year will be 7-9 feet deep and flowing at over 21,000 cubic feet per second. So the race team moved the aid station and re-routed the course.
And all the myriad smaller creeks (“runs” in the local vernacular) will be gushing and roaring accordingly — ankle-deep becomes waist-deep and powerful for this weekend. (I’ve never counted all of them, but I’m certain there are at least 50 water crossings on this course.) So the race team is scrambling to set safety lines at the biggest of these crossings.
And as the news trickles out and the changes are announced, the runners are reacting mainly as I would expect them too — not with mere tolerance, but with exuberance. It warms my heart (and makes me wish I was racing).
It does not, however, surprise me.
This is what we do, and this is how we are. We know about unpredictability, we know about the importance of humility. And by long experience at a very personal level, we know the power of being positive in the face of factors beyond our control. This is just another opportunity to excel.
In other words, it’s all good — bring it on!
My Eastern States this year
I’ve been involved in one way or another in every edition of Eastern States. I helped pace friends to their first hundred-mile finishes here in 2014 and 2016, and I ran my own first hundred here in 2015. And from 2017 to 2023, I helped organize the race.
Which brings me to 2024….
In January I rotated off of the board (the Eastern States Trail-Endurance Alliance) that I founded to be a long-term and non-profit steward of the race. This was by design — we intentionally built term limits and forced rotation into the plan, with the goal of building an ethic of “everybody takes a turn” (at the time, and in the way, that is right for them) within our community.
Stepping aside was hard — it feels a lot like sending your kid off to college, having to accept that you’ve done what you can, and now it is their time.
It’s also a test of the model, of the concept that success does not depend on any one person, but on the team, and each person giving their best when it’s their time and turn to do so. I already knew this to be a sound concept from my military experience, but to see it validated here, now, in the trailrunning community, is wonderful. As I watch the team’s reaction to this year’s challenges, I’m feeling proud and relieved and confident.
And that lets me focus on this year’s primary responsibility: getting my wife across that ES100 finish line!
Renee has run four hundreds so far (No Business (twice), Pinhoti, and Massanutten), but Eastern States is a new level of difficulty for her, with it’s technicality, it’s sometimes-extreme weather, it’s 20,000+ feet of climbing (more than that this year), it’s below-50% all-time finish rate (in the 30s in the warm years)… It will push her to her limits.
But she knows that, and she has prepared well for this challenge. I’m pacing her through the final 25 miles, and I’m so happy that I’ll have that up-close view of her finish.
At the same time, I’m feeling more nervous, more excited, more responsible than if I were running the race myself. But I know she has done the work, and I know that we as a crew — our son Lucas is coming east from California to pace, and our friend Dennis is pacing — are committed to playing our small part, and I predict that Sunday afternoon will be a happy time…
Eastern States has been at the heart of my ultra-running experience for many years now. Here are some of the other things I’ve written about it:
The mile-80 reference in this first one is the trigger for my hundred-mile career and one of my main “why’s”. It’s also a pretty good overview of the race.
Eastern States is all-volunteer, and volunteers are the indispensable heart of the whole thing. I talk about the dynamics of that here.
Our name draws immediate attention and invites comparison to our older and better-known sister race out west (I wasn’t involved with naming it, but I can’t imagine it now as anything else). I wrote some thoughts about this long before I ran Western States, but I stand by what I said back then.
This is a straight-up race report that might give you a different perspective on the race. This was a good year (including Nicole Yokum’s course record finish), and I’m pretty happy with this description of things.
It certainly turned out to be a year to remember. It was nice to see you this past weekend.
Sounds like it’s going to be a great time for the Calvert’s. Go Renee!
Glad you posted some of your related stories. Will eventually check them out.
As far as my involvement tomorrow at Eastern States, I’ll be volunteering at Dry Run AS; medical.
Happy trails.