Baby, We Were Born to Slog: Highlands Trail Fest 50-Mile

When I think of northern New Jersey three things come to mind—Springsteen, Sopranos, and a handful of mediocre sports franchises. After sliding and stumbling my way through a couple of state forests, I can confidently double the size of that listicle with three more items—rocks, rocks, and rocks. 

The inaugural Highlands Trail Festival follows the scenic Stonetown Circular Trail loop and then snakes its way through Norvin Green State Forest. Oh, and did I mention that it starts and ends at an old zoo that's been abandoned for almost 50 years? The Jungle Habitat — the race's staging area — is the site of a former Warner Brothers animal theme park that operated from 1972-76. The cracked asphalt roads and dirt paths that once formed the route for the park's safari tour now function as hiking and biking trails. The race's start/finish line sits next to the park's old entrance tunnel and follows the dilapidated safari path for the first and last mile. Sadly, the dude in the Bugs Bunny suit was not there to hand out water and food or, better yet, run the race in-costume and in-character.

2022 marked the inaugural year for Ian Golden's Red Newt Racing event. The concept is derived from Ian's Iron Mines 25k/50k — a one-off in 2019 due to permitting restrictions — and uses some of the same trails. The Highlands Trail Festival offers 25k, 50k, 50-mile, and 100k distances. Each race comprises the 16-mile Stonetown Circular Trail

loop, which brings runners back to the staging area. The ultra distances then run an out-and-back through Norvin Green State Forest, with the turnaround spot depending on the distance. 100k runners return to the Jungle, then do one more short out-and-back to complete their 62 miles. 

For most trail races I gravitate toward the longest distance offered, especially when I'm traveling more than two hours from home, but for this one I decided 50 miles was enough. I didn't need to repeat an out-and-back section I'd already be doing once and beat myself up over another technical 12 miles. Not with the Laurel Highlands 70.5-mile only four weeks away. 

The starting field was small. Ian gathered us inside the tunnel, headlamps aglow for the 5 a.m. start, and sent us off into jungle's eerily silent blackness. 

The first mile was like a road race, with everyone talking and joking around while trotting at a steady pace. But that all changed the instant we stepped onto the singletrack. We were greeted immediately with a hearty abundance of mid-sized rocks between 3-12 inches in diameter. Rocks this size are easier to negotiate than the big boulders of Breakneck or that loose Rocksylvania scree that's humbled hundreds of Eastern States hopefuls. But damn, these ankle biters don't have no mercy in this land! They're just relentless. Every time I'd catch a break and establish a rhythm on a runnable section, I'd make it not more than a minute or two before having to dance and high-step my way through more Jersey Rocks™. Yes, that's what I'm calling these things. I've run more than a few technical trail races, but the good ol' Garden State features its own special breed of tibial tendon twisters and this was my first time going toe-to-toe with them. Therefor they're deserving of their own tongue-in-cheek moniker. 

I plodded on while negotiating the myriad 300- to 500-foot climbs and descents that peppered the route from end to end. Around mile 7.5 I noticed there were no more flags and figured I was off course. In a race where sub-12-minute miles are a luxury, I did not wish to add bonus mileage to the day's tally. Thankfully I'd taken Ian's advice and loaded the course's .gpx file to my watch and the route into the Gaia app on my phone in case navigation became an issue. I normally don't like to run with my phone, especially during races, but this time it came in handy. Both Gaia and my watch said I was on course despite the absence of any course markings. 

I met up with another runner and he agreed that vandals must have stripped the flags. I was able to get Ian on the phone, and then the guy who marked the course, and explained what was going on. Ian was able to get someone to re-mark the 1.5-mile stretch that was vandalized before the 25k and 50k runners came through. This just added to the sense of adventure, and since I was already moving slowly the phone calls didn't bog me down any further. 

A few miles later I ate it on a slick boulder and bloodied up my left lower leg. No more than a minute later, as I walked it off while favoring the left, I rolled my right ankle, hard. This took even longer to walk off, and the discomfort would plague me for the rest of the day. I was sure it wasn't a serious injury, but damn, the ankle hurt during the downhills for the rest of the race. And yes, their were plenty of downhills. 

At this point I accepted it that the race would basically be a looooong hike with a little jogging here and there. Over the years this have become my default mode. Some ultrarunners can't bear the thought of being out on the course 40-60 percent longer than planned. With almost 40 ultras under my belt, I've learned to accept that things won't always go as planned, embrace the suck, and accept that it will turn into an all-day endeavor while trying try to keep a positive attitude. This mindset is what's prevented me from ever ending a race with a big fat DNF to my name. 

I came off the Stonetown Circular loop with a brief reprieve — a mile on the smooth Jungle Habitat trails back to the staging area for an aid station stop, followed by the same mile back out to the Jersey Rocks™. The opening 25k loop took just over 4 and a half hours. 

The 35-mile out-and-back section was daunting, but I decided to just take in the scenery and make the best of it. The New Weis aid station at miles 27 and 37.5 was staffed by the TC Elite team, and this crew really knew how to motivate. This was hands down one of the best run aid stations with the most enthusiast volunteers of any aid station I've been through. Consider yourself lucky if you ever come into a stop tended by Mason Coppi, Ellie Pell, Matt Lipsey, Riley Brady, and Riley's father Bill Brady. Seriously, their enthusiasm got my ass in gear and ready to take on the upcoming miles fearlessly!

On this section I ran some miles with rookie ultrarunner Alex Vivanco, who was signed up for the 100k. Alex lives just minutes from the course and wanted to run his first in-person ultra after a solo 100-mile run to Manhattan and back the summer before. This is a guy whose vigor and tenacity are second to none. He was completely out of his element but seemed to genuinely enjoy every minute of it, ultimately finishing the 50-mile with no water or headlamp and only minutes to spare before the final cutoff. 

10:25 elapsed and I finally hit the turnaround at Towns End. Only another 17 miles to go. Strava shows most of these as being slower than 20-minute miles, but I don't remember much about the pace. The TC Elites at New Weis got me invigorated for the second time. Later, when the sun was nearly set, I spotted a family of racoons hiding under a bridge on the side of a rural road. The rest is fuzzy at best. I vaguely remember passing Jason Friedman heading out on his last leg of the 100k. He'd finish just before the cutoff — one of only two 100k finishers. 

Negotiating all the rocks and crags in the dark was excruciating, as I was constantly scraping up my arms and legs and stumbling forward. To paraphrase The Boss: "Tramps like us, baby, we were born to slog." Eventually I hit the Jungle Habitat trails for the last time and was able to run the final mile back into finish.

After the race, it was late enough that I decided to hang around for the remaining finishers. It was a short drive back to my Air BnB and there were plenty of people to socialize with and recap the race. Cruz Nieves was on hand serving up some delicious veggie chili, among other hot food, which really enticed me to stay. A group of runners and volunteers sat by the Jungle Habitat's old entrance tunnel cheering as runners emerged from the darkness to finish the race. (Results)

Ian has a knack for designing courses that make people suffer, and this race did not disappoint. I moved so slowly for the 50 miles I actually recovered quickly over the following week. Despite the difficulty, the trails in this part of New Jersey are beautiful and you'll never run out of fantastic scenery. I really hope Ian brings this one back for another year! Lastly, thank you to Ian and all the volunteers whose names I didn't catch!