Erin Quinn

Race Report May 6th 2023

That was hard. No other way to put it. A 26.4 mile rock scramble up and down Mt. Beacon and Breakneck Point and over a variety of Hudson Highland hills with swarms of black flies, muddy switchbacks and some really fast, elite trail runners that made you feel like you were standing still while they were floating, uphill, on an uneven escalator.

This was part of two championship runs, the first being the USATF (USA Track and Field) Trail Championships as well as a qualifying race for the USA National Trail and Mountain Racing Team that is headed to Austria in June for World Championships. The top 2 men and women at Breakneck earn a spot on the team. On top of this, there was a 1/2 marathon offered as well, sponsored by Salomon Golden Trail Series of North America, which brought in burly runners from as far as Oregon, Colorado and even Quebec.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen runners bombing down a hill like this before. They were in full-send mode, regardless of the uneven, rock-littered, root-exposed, technical descent that was before them. I began to question whether or not they’d been gifted with bionic ankles or titanium knees. It was wild. Not all came out unscathed. There were some bloody winners and runner-ups laying in mulch piles and spread across the lawn at the end of the finish line with gashes and trail rashes that attested to the difficulty of this course.

I’m not quite sure how this race lured over 500 people to starting line, given the amount of vert and technical trails. Yes, there were some stunning views of the Mighty Hudson and Storm King Mountain and a handsome looking historic fire tower not to mention some early spring blossoms, a reservoir and a few sparkly if not downright spunky cascading streams and waterfalls. Still, there was little time to look at these things because I was always staring at the trail ahead of me, negotiating each step mid-run, even repeating, out loud, “watch your feet!”

The trail started by the old University Settlement Camp (USC) off of Wolcott Road in downtown Beacon, NY, which is now a public park but used to be a summer refuge for inner-city children from the lower east side. There are cabins and an old pool, theater and main house, where the race, run by Red Newt Racing, was set up to deliver bibs and t-shirts and post-race beverages, snacks and awards. Some runners camped out in tents the night before, others in their vans or cars. There were cornhole tosses set up as well as a giant, inflatable Salomon start/finish line and USATF and Golden Trail Series flags lining the entrance to the race.

I knew this field was going to be deep just be doing a little research into the entrants list and seeing the likes of Eli and Tabor Hemming coached by the Roche’s as well as Bailey Kowalczyk, Brittany Charbonneau (all hailing from Colorado) and Salomon’s own Max King from Bend, Oregon. This race was so steeped in talent that even I, someone with a cursory knowledge of the trail-scene, was recognizing faces from popular Instagram accounts or featured athletes that appeared in Trail Runner and Ultrarunning Magazine.

What I began to realize both the day before and the day of the race was that this was not your typical trail-run for several reasons. The first being, that the word “trail” was operative. Within 300ft of the start, we went past some disc golf nets in the woods and began a long, steep ascent up toward the Beacon Fire Tower. There were small patches of trail that felt runnable (to me) and then a lot of fast hiking-six steps of running-back to fast hiking and then more of a bouldering section followed by a brief heart-attack, a nice view and then a bottleneck descent down a section I would later learn was aptly referred to as the Devil’s Ladder.

The fire tower was fun, even the Devil’s Ladder was an exciting challenge. It was as much about navigating the boulders down as it was navigating around some heavy breathers and people afraid of heights. Not that there’s anything wrong with heavy breathers and fear of heights, we all have our things but it made the down-climbing that much more visceral. There was, of course, that guy, who kept trying to blaze his own path around the well-trodden Devil’s Ladder to get ahead of the people moving a bit more slowly and would wind up right back where he started, just causing a lot ruckus and agitation in an already high-stress environment.

Back to the course. So, if you weren’t rock scrambling, or praising those few meters of semi-smooth trail or running around a reservoir with some graffiti on the concrete dam, then you were debating whether or not to just step shin-deep in the mud or attempt to find an alternate route around it which grew harder as the miles clicked past because us back-of-the-packers were trapsing through the churned-up mud from the fast-as-all-hell front-pack runners.

There were some stream navigation areas, which I, personally enjoy. What’s more fun than picking your route across a stream? Just running water, is, in and of itself, refreshing and there was a check point at one of these streams where you called out your bib number and a few volunteers cheered you on. I’m a big sucker for any and all sideline cheers.

At one point we were just going straight up. And I mean, we were somewhere between rock-scrambling and bouldering, depending on the route you decided to choose. There were some pink flags and some worn white paint marking a zig-zagged route up Breakneck Point and there was even a small wooden sign that read “easier way/harder way” with arrows. I chose harder because I figured that harder might mean faster, but in the end, we were all crawling our way, literally up to the top of Breakneck Ridge, with some intense exposure and a view of the Hudson River that was stunning. I pulled out my phone to grab a picture and some nice runner offered to take one of me and I did the same for him. It was a scenic spot, with a breeze and the brief respite from climbing was magical.

The race did boast of more than 8,000ft of vertical gain in 26 miles and my legs were feeling it. I kept craving a wider, smoother, softer downhill path that would allow me to stretch out my legs and get some real running in, but the trail just narrowed again, pointing straight down, with jagged rocks and drop-offs that didn’t inspire much confidence in me to try and run. Instead, I moved as fast as I could with a run-shuffle-slam-the-breaks-on technique that wasn’t all that graceful, nor that effective, but it’s all I had.

While the 1st 13 miles of the race had some of the signature vistas and bits of eye-candy inherent in the Hudson Highlands, the last 13 miles were a blur. I say this for a few reasons. 1) I had convinced myself that I was going to just run the 1/2 marathon and call it quits after that as Red Newt Racing generously said we could make a game-time-decision as we came underneath the Salomon Arch at 13.1. Wouldn’t that be nice? A 1/2 marathon done by morning and some time spent in the shade interviewing people for a story I was slated to write on the race?

As I got closer to the disc golf course where the finish line was or the half-way point, depending on the distance you chose, I started asking myself why I wanted to stop? Was I hurt? No. Could I keep going? Yes. Would I make the cut-off? Yes. So what would be the reason to stop now? Just because I could? Not good enough. I leapt over the Salomon timing system, through the arch and back around to the aid station to refill my bottles and grab some cookies, because how can 13 miles up and down a series of grueling trails not be made better by some chocolate chip cookies? I saw my friend and very accomplished ultrarunner, Phil Vondra, who said encouraging things and told me to get some calories in and walked me out of that aid station and back onto the course for the full-Monty. The 26.5. The Trail Marathon. Double-or-Nothing.

This was where, not more than a mile later, I saw the finishers. Yes, the front pack of men and women, absolutely barreling down those rocky, muddy paths, arms flailing, feet moving faster than a fire-walker and those mud-encrusted legs so strong and spring-loaded that all I could do was step back off the trail and marvel at the athleticism I was bearing witness to.

The second reason, the last 13-miles were a blur, was due to the swarm of black flies, gnats, some-sort-of-nasty-ass-bug that followed me up each brutal climb of an old jeep-road. They were biting behind my ears, in my ears. I was trying to hold my breath because when I breathed I would swallow them, but holding one’s breath during a marathon is not really recommended. They kept getting in my eyes to the point that I had one eye completely closed and the other one I squinted through just to make sure I was still on trail.

The 3d reason the blur spread out over those remaining miles was just the sheer fact that my legs were feeling all of that climbing, my skin all of that insect-biting and my toes? The relentless pounding of the downhill that was certainly going to result in fewer toenails than I had coming in to the race.

There was a blissful mile or so down a gravel road where I could open up my stride and feel like I was actually on a run, but no sooner did that end then we were going back up steep switchback trails to another summit with or without a fire tower. I don’t really remember. The tourists were now out and there were lots of hikers and languages and different types of music being played from speakers. My slow-but-steady pace had me catching a few runners, though none of us were vying for a podium spot. It would be fun to pass a mile or two with someone, chat a bit, learn where they were from, what brought them to the race, how the day had been going thus far.

As I got closer to the end, I was in that mind-numbing phase where it was just about getting done. I kept thinking about the Rock The Ridge 50-miler taking place in my hometown, New Paltz, NY and I would be filled with envy that those runners were all on buttery carriage roads. “This is good training,” my inner-coach would say. “You’re working on your hiking legs, getting more experience on technical trails….” Whatever it took to keep me smiling and moving forward.

At some point, just passed the last aid station where I filled up on water and a handful of pretzels, someone said that this was our “last climb” before the “downhill to the finish.” That last climb was not fun. It was not pretty. The bugs felt like they were hatching eggs in my ears. I wanted to cry but no one would care. I chose this. I put my head between my knees as it got really steep, took three breaths and then said, “Let’s finish this.”

There was some beautiful corner where I knew it was all downhill. I had been there before and I could see the Hudson River, hear the finish line chatter and I got a burst of energy. I wanted to run down those hills. I really did. I wanted to come bounding down like the front-runners, if only for a few miles, but there was even more mud and rocks and washed-out trails and as I made my way down I had to negotiate every step and decide whether to run or not. Hanging in the balance of those decisions was whether or not running would land me in a cast or with a torn ACL or if I should just embrace my inner-Hemming and let my legs and arms rip down the trail as if God had stated, herself, in bold black and white that no evil shall befall any runner on the Breakneck Ridge course.

The barn was smelling good and I did take a few more risks and gently cascaded down the remaining stretch, so happy to know I was near the end that when I hit that patch of grass, all 300ft of it, I finally got to open up my stride and run fast to the end. There were some cowbells and nice people who I had ran the first 1/2 with who congratulated me and it appeared like people were enjoying their post-race high with beers and food and frisbee throwing. There was a film festival slated for the evening, which I did not attend, although I’m sure it was a blast.

There is a subculture, or a micro-niche, within a niche of local trail runners who thrive off the difficulty of courses like this, most of them, in the Catskills Mountains like Manitou’s Revenge or the notorious Escarpment Trail Run. But they’re all burly and buggy and muddy and take a full-body effort to make it through. I admire these folks, and love their love of difficult trails and their anti-hero mentality. These are the folks that are so raw and talented that no one knows about them except through lore. Some of them were there, running or watching or volunteering and the Christmas-like joy was spread all over their faces.

I don’t think I’m one of these people but it doesn’t mean I couldn’t attempt one of their runs. I did. It didn’t kill me so I guess I’m better for it. I would say that if you’re thinking of doing this race for the first time, that you might want to go for the 1/2 marathon. But if you’re a badass mountain runner who has thirsty legs for this kind of terrain than go for either distance and if you’re just a runner, up for a challenging day in the woods or a strong power-hiker that likes to tackle this many miles in a day, this race is right up your alley.

Red Newt Racing does a great job and it was a thrill to see some of the top trail runners in the country do what they train to do in such maverick form. I walked away, happy that I did the marathon, proud that I powered through and grateful that I came away without nary a break nor a bruise but a real clutch Patagonia running tank top boasting a picture of someone scrambling up Breakneck Ridge that I felt honored to wear the next day on my run.

For more information go to Ultra Signup for Results/Registration

The winners of the 1/2 Trail Marathon were none other than the power-couple, Eli and Tabor Hemming, which helped them secure their spot on the USA National Team headed to Austria for Trail and Mountain World Championships. They’ll be joined by the top 2 male and female finishers from the Breakneck Trail Marathon which were Garrett Corcoran, 27 of Salt Lake City, Utah and Jackson Brill, 24 of Bend, Oregon. Both came in under the course record with Corcoran screaming in at a sub 4-hour time: 3:55.

The women’s race was just as hot with Brittany Charbonneau of Denver, CO and Bailey Kowalczyk of Nederland, CO punching in at 4:46 and 4:49 respectively. Corcoran and Charbonneau were each awarded a $1000 in $1 bill prize money. They’ll be headed to Austria in just a few weeks.

— Erin Quinn