After each 100 miler I've run (both of them), I said "That was the hardest thing I've ever done." Well, I can honestly say that again. Zumbro 100 is no joke.
I left home early on Thursday morning, and made good time. Stopped off at the Scheel's in Fargo for some baseball gear for my son. I figured that Americans love their baseball, and equipment should be cheaper there due to volume. I'm not sure about the logic now, but at least I had a present for him when I got home. Arrived at the race check-in at 6pm and got my bib. Ate a few pulled-pork sandwiches and chatted up the locals. It's always great seeing familiar faces at races and catching up.
I had a room in Red Wing, a 45 minute drive away, which was a bit farther than I liked but not obscene. It was a nice motel nestled beside a railroad track and a state prison. Fortunately there were no riots or escapes to keep me up. Still, I had the usual pre-race jitters and only slept for 1 hour at a time.
The start time came far too fast for my liking. The forecast called for cold weather, which was going to present its own set of challenges. Lots of nervous energy around me, and everybody lined up about 50 metres before the starting line. Nobody wanted to be up front! John Storkamp gave a few encouraging words, then we were off. Not caring about how fast I finished, so long as I finished, I elected to hug the back as best I could. Despite starting out at a snail's pace, I still had to wait in line at the first uphill when the trail turns from a wide trail to single-track.
The race itself consists of six 16.7-mile loops, with four aid stations along the way (plus one bonus aid station at the start/finish area) to make for 29 aid stations total in the race. One thing was certain: I wasn't going to get hungry. Each loop has five evil hills which are steeper and/or longer than the others, and you find yourself counting them down on each loop. There is one evil hill between each aid station, except for between AS1 and AS2 which has two evil hills (the hardest section of the course) and between AS4 to the finish line, which has none (the easiest section on the course). The first evil hill is average as far as they come, it isn't incredibly steep but it is rather long. In short, it would be marvelous if we were running down it. The second evil hill is the shortest of them all, but steep. The third is the steepest and just keeps going with a few false summits. I consider it to the the toughest. The fourth starts off as a long slow uphill, then gets steep near the top (up to the top of Picnic rock). But fortunately, that's the only uphill in the entire section. The fifth is by far the longest; the dreaded Ant Hill. It just keeps going and doesn't stop.
I tried to stay relaxed my first loop, but still got sucked into going a bit too fast. I finished in just under 4 hours. Whoops! I knew that if I kept that pace up, I would be looking at a 24-hour finish time which was just far too ridiculous a notion given my fitness level and the course's nastiness. I was going to have to force myself to slow down. The cool weather didn't help the cause an, but the snow squall I experienced at the top of Ant Hill did.
My second loop wasn't much better, finishing it around 4.5 hours. This was starting to sound like a disaster. My goal was 5 hour loops, and I was 1.5 hours ahead of pace.
My socks and shoes were starting to get a bit gungy, so I decided to switch them for my third loop. I also remembered to grab my headlamp since odds were that I'd need it at some point before completing the loop. As I left the start area, I joined up with Susan Donnelly and John Taylor, whom I had been leapfrogging all day. They ran much faster than I, but my aid station stops were Formula One style in-and-outs. I asked them if they had their headlamps, and John stopped, turned around, and ran back to the aid station (fortunately we were still really close). Good karma. About 1 mile into the loop, I realized something wasn't quite right with my left foot. I glanced down and couldn't see anything. I asked John (who had caught up at that point) if he could see anything, and he said the sock had completely disintegrated and what was left of my heel was rubbing against the shoe. Awesome. He mentioned that the upcoming aid station was run by TC Running, a shoe store in Minneapolis, and they might have some spare socks to give out. Unfortunately, they didn't have any. But they did have some miraculous duct tape that gave me the extra layer I needed and didn't rub off for the whole loop! The night settled in and the clouds parted. Beautiful stars in any direction you looked. It was exactly what was needed to keep spirits high. I finished my third loop in 5:10, which was finally on target. Halfway through the race, and I was finally doing something right.
The fourth loop is the loop which destroyed me two years ago. I wasn't going to let that happen again. I mostly walked it, and took my time. I reached some really dark mental places, but knew that once the sun came up everything would be much better. It got very cold out. Water bottles started freezing, and some aid stations couldn't pour water out of their jugs. Six hours later, I finished the loop up and it was still dark out. On my first Zumbro attempt, the sun had already risen by the time I finished my fourth loop, so I knew I was ahead of where I was then. As a bonus, nothing was hurting more than it should, and I was still moving well. This was the highpoint of the race: I threw the monkey off my back and knew I was going to finish the full 100 miles. As to whether it was under the time cutoff was another matter entirely.
Early in the fifth loop, the sun began to rise. Unfortunately, I didn't have a drop bag anywhere on the course except for the start/finish area, so I had to keep it on me for the whole loop. Coming in to AS3, Tom Weigt passed me. I had met him back at Kettle Moraine 100 two years ago, and he graciously loaned me a water bottle as I had forgotten my race vest at home. I am eternally grateful for his generosity. I got to catch up a bit on the goings-on of the rest of the crew from Mankato (Scott and Shelley). He was moving much faster than me, so he left me in his dust. Not bad for an old man. ;) At the aid station, I was joined by Chris Deck who was also running the 100 miler. We clicked right away and pretty much agreed that we'd finish the race together. It was nice to have somebody to run with and talk to. I was incapable of doing any mental math, but he seemed to be pretty on the ball and informed me that there was no way we were going to have any problems with time cutoffs. Loop five finished in 6:20.
I'd heard that the sixth loop was magical. It was the last time you'd see each root, rock, tree, hill, etc. And as you passed each one you could flick it the middle finger knowing it was gone from your life forever (until you foolishly decide to register for the race the next year). Unfortunately, I had none of that bliss. My right knee was starting to act up and was having trouble climbing hills. But on the other hand, I could still bomb the downhills. Chris was having the exact opposite problem: He could climb like nobody's business, but was taking the downhills extremely gingerly. This made for an interesting dynamic, where once we got to an evil hill he'd drop me and I'd catch up to him on the ensuing downhill. Somehow, we made it work. At AS2, I told him that for me to feel safe, we'd have to really burn the section to AS3 and he agreed. By no means was it the fastest either of us had run that day (or the previous), but it was definitely the hardest. Once Ant Hill loomed, I knew we were good. We had almost 3 hours to get back to the start line. We would be able to crab-walk and make it. We stopped running and walked it in. Official time: 32:57.
Gnarly Bandit race #1 was in the bag. Honestly, that was the only race that scared me. I just remembered how much it destroyed me two years ago. And now that it's over, the rest of the race series seems doable.
Next stop: Kettle Moraine 100.
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Friday, April 1, 2016
Looking forward to Zumbro 100
It's been a long winter. One week from now, I'm going to be 30 minutes into my first 100 miler of the year.
Two years ago, I tried Zumbro as my first 100 and DNF'ed. I learned a lot about myself in the process. Mostly, I needed to improve my fitness and my pre-race organizational skills so that I didn't need to think at aid stations. I was taken down by a combination of poor training and not knowing what I was doing at the 100 mile distance.
Fast forward two years, and with two 100 mile finishes under the belt, I'm back for revenge. I'm familiar with the course, and much more patient when I run. I'm not going to speed up halfway through the race just to blow up. I walk from the start now. I squeeze gels into my mouth from the moment the RD says "go". Aid stations are for aid, not rest.
I analyzed the data from END-SURE 50k two weeks ago, and I'm fairly happy with what I saw. The first "half" of the race was flat as a pancake, and the second "half" of the race has rolling hills. The average racer ran the second half of the race 31% slower than the first half, while I ran it 19% slower. Only five racers slowed down less, and of those four of them were in the top five (and thereby in amazing shape). I'm in awe of one runner in particular whose second half time was only 6% slower. Most of the runners around where I finished had a slowdown of 30-40%, with the notable exception of Melissa Budd and David Fielder who are amazing runners. I know I'm going to have to run a lot slower than I did at END-SURE, but it shows that I have the mental discipline to start slow and remain steady.
Zumbro has a 34 hour cutoff, which translates to maintaining an average 20-minute mile. Realendurance.com has a ratio of 1.13 between Zumbro and Kettle Moraine. I ran KM in 27:10, which means I have an expected finish time of 30:42. At the same time, there is a ratio of 0.89 between Zumbro and Superior. Seeing as I finished Superior in 35:18, that comes out to an expected 31:25. Splitting the difference, I foresee a 31 hour finish. The weather out in Wabasha has supposedly been pretty good, and the 7-day forecast is showing ideal conditions similar to Superior's last fall.
Two years ago, I tried Zumbro as my first 100 and DNF'ed. I learned a lot about myself in the process. Mostly, I needed to improve my fitness and my pre-race organizational skills so that I didn't need to think at aid stations. I was taken down by a combination of poor training and not knowing what I was doing at the 100 mile distance.
Fast forward two years, and with two 100 mile finishes under the belt, I'm back for revenge. I'm familiar with the course, and much more patient when I run. I'm not going to speed up halfway through the race just to blow up. I walk from the start now. I squeeze gels into my mouth from the moment the RD says "go". Aid stations are for aid, not rest.
I analyzed the data from END-SURE 50k two weeks ago, and I'm fairly happy with what I saw. The first "half" of the race was flat as a pancake, and the second "half" of the race has rolling hills. The average racer ran the second half of the race 31% slower than the first half, while I ran it 19% slower. Only five racers slowed down less, and of those four of them were in the top five (and thereby in amazing shape). I'm in awe of one runner in particular whose second half time was only 6% slower. Most of the runners around where I finished had a slowdown of 30-40%, with the notable exception of Melissa Budd and David Fielder who are amazing runners. I know I'm going to have to run a lot slower than I did at END-SURE, but it shows that I have the mental discipline to start slow and remain steady.
Zumbro has a 34 hour cutoff, which translates to maintaining an average 20-minute mile. Realendurance.com has a ratio of 1.13 between Zumbro and Kettle Moraine. I ran KM in 27:10, which means I have an expected finish time of 30:42. At the same time, there is a ratio of 0.89 between Zumbro and Superior. Seeing as I finished Superior in 35:18, that comes out to an expected 31:25. Splitting the difference, I foresee a 31 hour finish. The weather out in Wabasha has supposedly been pretty good, and the 7-day forecast is showing ideal conditions similar to Superior's last fall.
Monday, March 21, 2016
2016 END-SURE 50k
I love this race. This year was my third time running it. The only year I've missed was the second one two years ago, and that was because I was attempting the Gnarly Bandit.
Well, fast forward to today, and I'm again attempting the Gnarly Bandit. The difference is that this year I used the race as a measuring stick and a long training run. It is at a great time of year, the trail is in good condition, and the aid stations are exactly where I need them.
This year's END-SURE 50k was heavily modified from last year's. While last year was an out & back that covered the hilliest part of the trail twice and included a short section on the road, this year most closely resembled the first year's course and had absolutely no road running at all!
We were bused to the start line well ahead of the 10am start. Fortunately, the race director was merciful and let us start early. I let a bunch of people go ahead of me at the start, and settled into a nice steady pace. I had the Zumbro 100 coming up in a few weeks, and wanted to be fresh for it, with no risk of injuries, so I didn't push the pace. After a few miles, I reeled in Melissa Budd and David Fielder, two amazing runners from Winnipeg. We would sometimes drift apart from each other, as we were each running our own race, but for the most part we ran the first half of the race together. Having company really helps tick the miles off.
After the second aid station, the hills started. I dropped David and Melissa, and began to do my "walk all hills and run everything else" strategy. With my highly variable pace, it didn't make any sense to run with anybody. Considering how well I was moving in the second half, I was surprised when I got passed by a guy who was flying up the hills. I guess somebody else sandbagged the first half of the race more than I did!
When we came within sight of the finish line, there was one more kick to the balls left in store. The 50k and 100k race had an extra 4 mile loop. Unfortunately for me, I thought it was a 4km loop. I sped up to a pace that I figured I could keep up for 5km, and tried to tick off the last bit of trail as fast as I could. Then I noticed Melissa coming up behind me. I wasn't going to let anybody pass me that late in the race (sorry Melissa), and having somebody breathe down my neck was just the kick I needed to push the pace a bit harder. But I just couldn't shake her. When we finally got to the last few hills, I took a glance behind me and noticed that the gap between us had widened. Thank goodness! I was redlining for far too long, and had misjudged how much race was left. I eased up slightly and coasted in to the finish. The 2nd last mile was my fastest of the entire race.
I crossed the finish line in 6:06. Nowhere near my PB of last year (5:41, on a much hillier course), but I was in terrific shape. I still had lots left in the tank and felt like I had a great training run. I'm sure everybody else at the finish line would disagree with my assessment, as my muscles stiffened up almost immediately.
What really makes this race great is the beer-swapping and camaraderie around the camp fire afterwards. Already looking forward to next year!
Well, fast forward to today, and I'm again attempting the Gnarly Bandit. The difference is that this year I used the race as a measuring stick and a long training run. It is at a great time of year, the trail is in good condition, and the aid stations are exactly where I need them.
This year's END-SURE 50k was heavily modified from last year's. While last year was an out & back that covered the hilliest part of the trail twice and included a short section on the road, this year most closely resembled the first year's course and had absolutely no road running at all!
We were bused to the start line well ahead of the 10am start. Fortunately, the race director was merciful and let us start early. I let a bunch of people go ahead of me at the start, and settled into a nice steady pace. I had the Zumbro 100 coming up in a few weeks, and wanted to be fresh for it, with no risk of injuries, so I didn't push the pace. After a few miles, I reeled in Melissa Budd and David Fielder, two amazing runners from Winnipeg. We would sometimes drift apart from each other, as we were each running our own race, but for the most part we ran the first half of the race together. Having company really helps tick the miles off.
After the second aid station, the hills started. I dropped David and Melissa, and began to do my "walk all hills and run everything else" strategy. With my highly variable pace, it didn't make any sense to run with anybody. Considering how well I was moving in the second half, I was surprised when I got passed by a guy who was flying up the hills. I guess somebody else sandbagged the first half of the race more than I did!
When we came within sight of the finish line, there was one more kick to the balls left in store. The 50k and 100k race had an extra 4 mile loop. Unfortunately for me, I thought it was a 4km loop. I sped up to a pace that I figured I could keep up for 5km, and tried to tick off the last bit of trail as fast as I could. Then I noticed Melissa coming up behind me. I wasn't going to let anybody pass me that late in the race (sorry Melissa), and having somebody breathe down my neck was just the kick I needed to push the pace a bit harder. But I just couldn't shake her. When we finally got to the last few hills, I took a glance behind me and noticed that the gap between us had widened. Thank goodness! I was redlining for far too long, and had misjudged how much race was left. I eased up slightly and coasted in to the finish. The 2nd last mile was my fastest of the entire race.
I crossed the finish line in 6:06. Nowhere near my PB of last year (5:41, on a much hillier course), but I was in terrific shape. I still had lots left in the tank and felt like I had a great training run. I'm sure everybody else at the finish line would disagree with my assessment, as my muscles stiffened up almost immediately.
What really makes this race great is the beer-swapping and camaraderie around the camp fire afterwards. Already looking forward to next year!
Thursday, December 10, 2015
It's Gnarly Out There!
Two years ago, I tried to run a race series called the Gnarly Bandit despite having never run in a 100 mile race before. I failed. I did not complete a single race out of the three that I entered.
The Gnarly Bandit consists of four 100 mile races, followed by a 100k:
There are three cruxes to the series: 1. Zumbro is early in the year, and quite often the snow isn't even off the ground yet. Very few people are trained up for it yet. 2. There is only three weeks between Kettle Moraine and Black Hills. 3. Superior.
Last year, I entered two of the races in the Gnarly Bandit series (Kettle Moraine and Superior) and finished them in respectable fashion. I conquered the third crux. And after running Kettle Moraine, I'm certain I can handle the second crux if I take Kettle extra easy.
I am formally throwing my hat into the ring to complete the Gnarly Bandit in 2016. I have learned a lot since the last time I tried it. I have the training, the knowledge, and the willpower to push through it. I have been on all of the race courses, except for Wild Duluth 100k. Fortunately, it shares some of the course with Voyageur 50 which I have raced before. So I have no excuse this time that I don't know what I'm getting myself into.
Only 4 months until Zumbro.
The Gnarly Bandit consists of four 100 mile races, followed by a 100k:
- Zumbro 100
- Kettle Moraine 100
- Black Hills 100
- Superior 100
- Wild Duluth 100k
There are three cruxes to the series: 1. Zumbro is early in the year, and quite often the snow isn't even off the ground yet. Very few people are trained up for it yet. 2. There is only three weeks between Kettle Moraine and Black Hills. 3. Superior.
Last year, I entered two of the races in the Gnarly Bandit series (Kettle Moraine and Superior) and finished them in respectable fashion. I conquered the third crux. And after running Kettle Moraine, I'm certain I can handle the second crux if I take Kettle extra easy.
I am formally throwing my hat into the ring to complete the Gnarly Bandit in 2016. I have learned a lot since the last time I tried it. I have the training, the knowledge, and the willpower to push through it. I have been on all of the race courses, except for Wild Duluth 100k. Fortunately, it shares some of the course with Voyageur 50 which I have raced before. So I have no excuse this time that I don't know what I'm getting myself into.
Only 4 months until Zumbro.
Friday, October 9, 2015
Running Around in Circles
A.K.A. Lemming Loop 3 Hour
It's been a long running season for me. And, I like to think, a successful one. Not only did I break my PR at END-SURE (not exactly a difficult chore), but I also got a huge monkey off my back by completing my first 100 miler. I one-upped by crawling onto the monkey's back and completed Superior 100. I like to think of this as doing two fifths of the Gnarly Bandit, the race series of which I DNFed every race I entered last year.When I signed up for Lemming Loop (LL), I figured that my legs were still going to be hurting somewhat from Superior three weeks earlier. In this, I was correct. It looks like I recover from 100 milers a lot slower than I would have thought. It's not a linear function for me, where it's 4 times as long as with a marathon, and twice as long as with a 50 miler. My muscles seem to heal fine, but my joints stay tender for a long time. Knowing this, I signed up for the shortest LL distance; the 3-hour race. Good decision, as I came down with a cold and wouldn't have been able to run anything longer anyway. Compared to all my other races this year, this one was going to be a balls-out sprint.
I toed the start line with Craig Desjarlais, who also ran Superior, and settled into a nice rhythm. One guy took off like a bullet. Craig and I looked at each other, and we both agreed that we would see him again soon. The body of runners soon split up into packs, and I chose to stick with the lead one, which consisted of Craig, myself, and the lead female (I think her name is Judy Nagy). We caught up to the bullet about halfway through the loop, and never looked back. Craig decided to speed up a bit, and I thought it would be best to let him go. I don't have the leg speed to run like Craig. So it was just Judy and me.
Judy and I traded leads for the first two laps, until she stopped at the aid station. I kept going. I was now all alone and forced to pace all by myself. I was hurting pretty good at this point, but threw all the pain into my newly-dubbed "pain cave". I figured I could deal with it after the end. After all, it was only going to be 3 hours of discomfort.
My plan this race was to carry all my gels with me, and carry a single water bottle. This way, I could pretty much ignore the aid station and only use it to refill my water bottle. This was a strategy that served me well. After the third loop, I made my first aid station stop and was out of there in about 10 seconds.
The race from there on was fairly uneventful until near the end. I felt like a superstar, blowing past runners who had been out there for 18 hours already. I tried to give everybody encouragement, and never expected anyone to get out of my way. But for some reason, almost every single one moved over to let me pass. Seriously? I was fresh, and had the legs to be able to take to the tall grass. Maybe they were just using me as an excuse to move over and get a few seconds of rest before continuing on their way. The volunteers at the aid station were telling me that I was catching up to Craig, and if I turned it up I could catch him. I wasn't going to do that and blow myself up. If he really was slowing down, I would just let him come to me. Turns out they were telling Craig that I was catching up to him too (I wasn't), and were playing us both against each other. Evil.
When it was time to start doing short loops, Christine and Bean showed up to cheer me on. Nothing pumps me up like hearing them chant "Go Daddy Go!". After one short loop, my watch was showing that I didn't have enough time to complete a second one. I was nearing the end of my race. I told Bean that if he got to the start line, he could run with daddy until the finish. He happily obliged. Together, we ticked off the final 500 metres before the horn sounded. On the way back, my legs started to cramp up. Surely, a sign that I ran almost perfectly.
Craig finished first. I finished second. Judy ended up finishing 2nd female. I don't podium often, so it felt really good even though the field was pretty shallow.
My splits:
| 18:25 | |||||||||
| 18:07 | |||||||||
| 17:56 | |||||||||
| 18:03 | |||||||||
| 18:23 | |||||||||
| 18:26 | |||||||||
| 19:02 | |||||||||
| 18:53 | |||||||||
| 19:55 | |||||||||
| 7:57 |
Considering that my secret goal was to run 18 miles, I did pretty good. Fairly even splits except for the 19:55 near the end. In total, I ran 19.51 miles on tired legs. When I got home, I went straight to sleep.
Monday, September 21, 2015
2015 Superior 100 Race Report
Superior. What is there that you can't say about this race? It is exceptionally well-organized, very well-attended, and the volunteers are amazing. It was also my introduction to "big-boy" hundred milers.
Two years ago, I asked Sue Lucas if I could pace her for the last 50 miles at Superior. Fortunately for me, she said yes. But with a caveat: She walked fast, and didn't spend a lot of time at aid stations, so I'd have to keep up. No problem, I thought. Needless to say, Sue broke me. By the time we got to Oberg, I was spent. This gave me two insights: 1. Sue Lucas is an absolute beast. 2. Superior 100 is a really hard race.
So naturally, after last year's complete disaster and string of DNFs, I had to sign up for this year's race. I needed to earn my first 100 mile belt buckle.
This year, there was a record number of Manitobans driving down. There was last year's women's winner, Mallory Richard, equally-speedy Steven Grauper, wildcard Dallas Sigurdur, and front-packers Brad Whitson, Murray Arnason, and Craig Desjarlais. And then there was me.
Steven, Craig, and I drove down together. It was a fairly uneventful trip down, and we got to Two Harbors with plenty of time for a pasta dinner and quick grocery run. The pre-race briefing went on a bit longer than I wanted, especially with the long drive to our hotel in Lutsen. When we got to the hotel, we crashed instantly.
The next morning came far too quickly, as it usually does before races. But this time I slept like a baby and didn't feel groggy at all. Maybe I had gained some confidence after my finish at Kettle Moraine earlier this year. I impressed a few people by demolishing a whole loaf of cheese foccaccia bread on the bus to the start line. Once there, I realized that I may have made a mistake in planning my drop bags, and made Joel Toews (Mallory's pacer) promise to throw my warm-up clothes in my County Road 6 dropbag (thanks Joel for coming through and saving my race!). The forecast had been getting cooler and cooler all week, and I foolishly hadn't been watching it and planned my drop bags as if it was the middle of summer instead of the near-freezing temperatures we were going to get.
After a few inspirational words by star race director John Storkamp, of which I don't recall any due to the excitement of getting the race started, we were off.
This year's edition of Superior 100 had the first 4 miles or so detoured on the Gitchi-Gami bike path as a result of a landowner (rightfully) removing permission for the Superior Hikint Trail to pass through his land. It would be a relatively-flat asphalt start. One that I thought sucked people into unsustainable paces. I on the other hand, had none of that and treated the paved trail as if it was at mile 99 and walked the uphills. I waved all my friends goodbye, feeling certain I wouldn't see them again until the finish line. As a result of my conservative starting pace, I came into the Split Rock aid station in 163rd place. After a formula-one style fill-up of water bottles, I was off on the next section.
The trail from Split Rock to Beaver Bay is the longest in the race. Eleven miles before the next aid. I brought a third water bottle specifically for this section, and used every drop of water from it. I realized that I got so much use out of my bottle that it was probably a good idea to bring it along for the rest of the race, and only fill it up on the longer sections (such as Tettegouche and Crosby Manitou). The views on this section were breathtaking. A short while in, I realized that I was running in front of Susan Donnelly. Knowing her finish record, I felt a bit humbled and scared that I was where I was. There was no reason I should have been in front of her that early in the race, and it most likely meant that my conservative pace wasn't near conservative enough. Whoops. I let her pass and tried to slow down a bit. Nevertheless, I had moved into 148th place.
At Beaver Bay aid station, I took a bit more time. I had my first drop bag and refilled gels, salt tablets, changed shirt, and socks. The fresh clothing felt great. Grabbed a handful of potatoes (no need for salt since that was taken care off) to fill my stomach as a surrogate lunch, then I was off. This was a short section, so I didn't need the third water bottle. But even though it was short, it was by no means easy. I managed to make a stealthy pit stop midway through this section, and if anybody noticed they sure played it cool. That dropped me to 156th.
The Silver Bay aid station was a quickie. Filled the third water bottle, slammed some "rocket fuel" (a.k.a. ginger ale) and was out of there. This section had Bean and Bear lakes, which are absolutely fantastic views. It was also a notorious section for baking unsuspecting runners who weren't ready for the heat. Fortunately, this was a cool year and the temperatures stayed quite manageable. Came across a photographer at the top of a bluff overlooking Bean lake (or maybe it was Bear?), and gave a pirouette. I don't think it came across right in still-life. Just as I was hoping for the section to end, it did. Moved into 154th.
I got a surprise at the Tettegouche aid station. There was Craig Desjarlais looking very dreary. He had a problem with one of his legs, and was moving slower than he normally was. But he said he wasn't ready to quit. I didn't stick around long enough to let negative vibes become contagious. I was feeling great and wanted to keep my aid station stops short. I was warned that the section from Tettegouche to County Road 6 wasn't incredibly long, but it was incredibly hard. I figured this was a great time to give up running for the day, and start power-hiking. And did I ever power-hike that mofo. I had a few runners give me compliments as they had a tough time catching up and passing me, I was walking so fast. There were some great views in the section, and a very welcome one was seeing the aid station. When approaching the Co Rd 6 aid station, you can hear it from very far away. And eventually you can see it. But then you still have a few miles to go as you need to go past it to descend the cliff (and go over another one last hill) before you get to the road. It was at this time that it started to get dark. Fortunately, I had picked up my headlamp at Beaver Bay. I never thought I would get this close to Co Rd 6 before it got dark. Moved up into 140th place.
At County Road 6 aid station, I was in for another surprise. As I ran in, I came across Brad, Dallas, and Murray getting ready to head out! All three have BQ speed in their legs, so I was very surprised to be as close to them as I was. I raided my drop bag for gels, salt tabs, my pullover (again, thanks Joel!), a fresh shirt, and my handheld light. Said "hi" to Robyn Reed, whom I met at the spring race, working the aid station, and was off again. It didn't take long to come up to the trio of Manitobans. I think somebody was having a wardrobe malfunction, and I passed them. I was power-hiking up a storm at this point. There were lots of opportunities to break into a run in the last half of this section, and I took the opportunity any time the trail gave it. I don't recall passing many people, but somehow ended up in 126th place.
The Finland aid station is more or less the halfway point of the race. It's a huge aid station, and the start for the 50 mile race. I didn't have a drop bag here, so had no real reason to stick around. I downed some hot chicken soup as quickly as I could, and was out. The next section to Sonju Lake was another easy section, but was completely in the dark. It also seemed longer than it should be (typical of running at night). I noticed that people were starting to pass me, and that my power-hiking pace was slowing down. The good news is that the highest point on the race course is over this section, so technically it was all downhill from there. Yeah right.
Sonju Lake was a welcome sight. I had a change of shoes here, as well as spare batteries for my headlamp. For some reason I didn't think I needed spare batteries for my handheld, as it was supposed to last for 12 hours on the setting I had it on, and it was definitely fully charged before the start. About 5 minutes after leaving the aid station, I realized that I forgot my handheld at the aid station. Aaaaargh! I briefly contemplated continuing on without it, but came to the conclusion that thinking wasn't my strong point at that time, and that if I had planned to run with it I better should. I wasted 10 minutes going back to the aid station and reclaiming my handheld. A few minutes later, it died on me. Motherf^&*er. I was now down to one light, my headlamp. I was counting on my handheld casting shadows on the rocks and roots so I would know how high to lift my feet. Now I just had the flat light that was emanating from my forehead. And wouldn't you know it, a few minutes after my handheld died, my headlamp gave me the "low battery" warning. Great. That meant I had only one set of batteries to make it the rest of the night. The cold of the night must have been wreaking havoc with my batteries. I didn't want to get caught out in the middle of nowhere in the freezing cold, unable to move, so I delayed changing headlamp batteries until I could barely see my feet. I was somewhere around 1 or 2 in the morning, and down to my last set of batteries. Fortunately, my handheld started working a little bit, enough for me to be able to change my headlamp batteries. So at least I wasn't fumbling around in the dark. Despite all the shenanigans that went on, I arrived at Crosby Manitou aid station in 117th place.
Crosby Manitou is another huge aid station. If there's something you want food-wise, they have it. It is also the last aid station before what is affectionately-known as "the suck". As a result, there were a lot of pity parties crowded around. I would have none of that. I knew that if I thought about what was ahead, the warm food would coax me to stay far too long. I grabbed a handful of cold quesadilla (didn't want to stick around long enough for a hot one) and got out of there. The suck came quickly. This section had a seemingly non-stop of ups and downs into the Manitou river gorge, before crossing it and continuing with more ups and downs. Eventually, you end up in a swamp that threatens to suck the shoes off your feet. And lastly, you get to the most-runnable few miles of the entire race. Even though I had a mad case of the sleepies, I took the gift the trail gave me, and ran into Sugarloaf aid station, now in 106th place.
I had made the decision during the suck that I needed a 20 minute nap just to rest my eyes for a bit and stave off the sleepies. I was in danger of passing out on my feet and face-planting on a rock (if I was lucky), or falling off a cliff (if I was unlucky). I was greeted at the aid station by Jen (Brad's wife), Lisa, and Dallas (who dropped at Finland), and took charge over me. They found my drop bag, threw a sleeping bag over me, and let me get my rest. I don't know if I even slept at all, or if it was even 20 minutes, but when I stood up I felt refreshed. The daylight had brought warmth to the race again, and I was able to ditch the unnecessary weight of my lights, batteries, and pullover. After a long aid station stop, I was off. There was no way I was not going to finish after making it through the night. The next section to Cramer Road was relatively uneventful, except for all the mud holes. And somehow I only lost one place, arriving in 107th.
I was in a great place at Cramer Road. Fortunately, I had missed the started of the marathon, so it wasn't a zoo. At the aid station, I saw some kids wearing matching shirts cheering on their daddy. That kind of thing always gives me a warm feeling inside. A couple of sausage patties for breakfast, and I was moving. The section from Cramer to Temperance is one of my least favourites. Even though you follow the scenic Cross River, after you cross it you need to climb up up up before a huge drop into the aid station. By this point, my knees were starting to rebel. Everything hurt. I was crashing. Hard. In 93rd place.
I had a huge breakdown at the Temperance River aid station. I saw in the chair and moaned and whined. I wasn't prepared to drop. I just wanted the pain to stop. I wanted my knees to stop hurting. I wanted the race to be over. But none of that was going to happen sitting in a chair. After wasting far too much time, I took two tylenols and left. I knew most of the rest of the race, as it was in common with the spring Superior 50k. The only wildcard was the climb up Carlton peak. Fortunately, climbing didn't hurt the knees. But it did make me tired. For some reason, I was particularly annoyed by some hikers hogging a bench partway up. I vowed that I would sit at the next bench I found. And wouldn't you know it, there was a picnic table right below the summit. When I sat down, the sleepies came back. The sun was so warm on me, that I feel asleep. I have no clue how long I was there for. I was woken up abruptly by Brad shouting at me as he ran by. I took my cue, and followed after him. I had lost a lot of time and placing with my ill-advised summit snooze. I came into Sawbill in 122nd place.
Sawbill was my final drop bag, and I didn't waste very much time there. Murray was just a minute behind, and caught up to me at the aid station. I briefly considered running with Brad and Murray, but decided that each person must run his own race, and so left before them. I don't remember much of the section to Oberg, other than chatting with Stewart, the race director of Ozark 100. It sounds like a really good race, and one that I would love to run one day. The downside of all that chatting was that I began missing my watch's beeps, and missed taking a few gels. That was energy I needed and wouldn't be getting back. Oh well. Ran into Oberg in 121st place.
I basically ran through Oberg aid station. I wasn't going to let something like 7 miles stand between me and a belt buckle. I got Lisa to fill my water bottles while I shed some weight in the outhouse for the last push to the finish line. I was out of the aid station before Brad or Murray got there. I pushed hard. Really hard. But my body just wasn't responding any more. I felt pretty good getting to the top of Moose Mountain, but the descent blew my legs apart, and I couldn't get my form back for Mystery Mountain (the final hill). Brad blew by me like I was standing still, and finished 13 minutes before me. At the top of Mystery, I was passed by Jason, one of the co-race directors of Kettle Moraine. I was so in the zone, that I didn't recognize him. He was running the 50 mile, and I think my chattiness was holding him back (sorry). When I got to the Poplar River, I was elated. It was less than a mile to the finish line, and all runnable. If only my body was able to run. I put on my Emil Zatopek face, and limp-ran through the finish chute. I don't know if I scared anybody with my primal scream after crossing the finish line, but it was something I just had to do. I had to let everything that was in me spill out. 35 hours and 18 minutes of suffering was over. John Storkamp gave me my belt buckle, and as I was crawling toward my hotel room, I heard Murray's name announced on the loudspeaker. He was only 30 seconds behind me!
I learned that the perfect weather (and slightly easier course) had allowed the men's course record to be broken by nearly 2 hours. And Mallory also ran a phenomenal race, placing first again with the second-fastest time ever. I have a feeling she'll be back again next year with the aim of breaking the course record. Steven Graupner had to drop at Sugarloaf with a bad foot. And Craig eventually finished with 30 minutes to spare before the cutoff.
This race took a lot out of me. Over a week later, and my knees and ankles are still tender to the touch. I haven't gone out for a post-race run yet either. But it was all worth it. I got my first 100 mile belt buckle, and finished one of the toughest races out there. If I can finish this race, I can finish any.
Two years ago, I asked Sue Lucas if I could pace her for the last 50 miles at Superior. Fortunately for me, she said yes. But with a caveat: She walked fast, and didn't spend a lot of time at aid stations, so I'd have to keep up. No problem, I thought. Needless to say, Sue broke me. By the time we got to Oberg, I was spent. This gave me two insights: 1. Sue Lucas is an absolute beast. 2. Superior 100 is a really hard race.
So naturally, after last year's complete disaster and string of DNFs, I had to sign up for this year's race. I needed to earn my first 100 mile belt buckle.
This year, there was a record number of Manitobans driving down. There was last year's women's winner, Mallory Richard, equally-speedy Steven Grauper, wildcard Dallas Sigurdur, and front-packers Brad Whitson, Murray Arnason, and Craig Desjarlais. And then there was me.
Steven, Craig, and I drove down together. It was a fairly uneventful trip down, and we got to Two Harbors with plenty of time for a pasta dinner and quick grocery run. The pre-race briefing went on a bit longer than I wanted, especially with the long drive to our hotel in Lutsen. When we got to the hotel, we crashed instantly.
The next morning came far too quickly, as it usually does before races. But this time I slept like a baby and didn't feel groggy at all. Maybe I had gained some confidence after my finish at Kettle Moraine earlier this year. I impressed a few people by demolishing a whole loaf of cheese foccaccia bread on the bus to the start line. Once there, I realized that I may have made a mistake in planning my drop bags, and made Joel Toews (Mallory's pacer) promise to throw my warm-up clothes in my County Road 6 dropbag (thanks Joel for coming through and saving my race!). The forecast had been getting cooler and cooler all week, and I foolishly hadn't been watching it and planned my drop bags as if it was the middle of summer instead of the near-freezing temperatures we were going to get.
After a few inspirational words by star race director John Storkamp, of which I don't recall any due to the excitement of getting the race started, we were off.
This year's edition of Superior 100 had the first 4 miles or so detoured on the Gitchi-Gami bike path as a result of a landowner (rightfully) removing permission for the Superior Hikint Trail to pass through his land. It would be a relatively-flat asphalt start. One that I thought sucked people into unsustainable paces. I on the other hand, had none of that and treated the paved trail as if it was at mile 99 and walked the uphills. I waved all my friends goodbye, feeling certain I wouldn't see them again until the finish line. As a result of my conservative starting pace, I came into the Split Rock aid station in 163rd place. After a formula-one style fill-up of water bottles, I was off on the next section.
The trail from Split Rock to Beaver Bay is the longest in the race. Eleven miles before the next aid. I brought a third water bottle specifically for this section, and used every drop of water from it. I realized that I got so much use out of my bottle that it was probably a good idea to bring it along for the rest of the race, and only fill it up on the longer sections (such as Tettegouche and Crosby Manitou). The views on this section were breathtaking. A short while in, I realized that I was running in front of Susan Donnelly. Knowing her finish record, I felt a bit humbled and scared that I was where I was. There was no reason I should have been in front of her that early in the race, and it most likely meant that my conservative pace wasn't near conservative enough. Whoops. I let her pass and tried to slow down a bit. Nevertheless, I had moved into 148th place.
At Beaver Bay aid station, I took a bit more time. I had my first drop bag and refilled gels, salt tablets, changed shirt, and socks. The fresh clothing felt great. Grabbed a handful of potatoes (no need for salt since that was taken care off) to fill my stomach as a surrogate lunch, then I was off. This was a short section, so I didn't need the third water bottle. But even though it was short, it was by no means easy. I managed to make a stealthy pit stop midway through this section, and if anybody noticed they sure played it cool. That dropped me to 156th.
The Silver Bay aid station was a quickie. Filled the third water bottle, slammed some "rocket fuel" (a.k.a. ginger ale) and was out of there. This section had Bean and Bear lakes, which are absolutely fantastic views. It was also a notorious section for baking unsuspecting runners who weren't ready for the heat. Fortunately, this was a cool year and the temperatures stayed quite manageable. Came across a photographer at the top of a bluff overlooking Bean lake (or maybe it was Bear?), and gave a pirouette. I don't think it came across right in still-life. Just as I was hoping for the section to end, it did. Moved into 154th.
I got a surprise at the Tettegouche aid station. There was Craig Desjarlais looking very dreary. He had a problem with one of his legs, and was moving slower than he normally was. But he said he wasn't ready to quit. I didn't stick around long enough to let negative vibes become contagious. I was feeling great and wanted to keep my aid station stops short. I was warned that the section from Tettegouche to County Road 6 wasn't incredibly long, but it was incredibly hard. I figured this was a great time to give up running for the day, and start power-hiking. And did I ever power-hike that mofo. I had a few runners give me compliments as they had a tough time catching up and passing me, I was walking so fast. There were some great views in the section, and a very welcome one was seeing the aid station. When approaching the Co Rd 6 aid station, you can hear it from very far away. And eventually you can see it. But then you still have a few miles to go as you need to go past it to descend the cliff (and go over another one last hill) before you get to the road. It was at this time that it started to get dark. Fortunately, I had picked up my headlamp at Beaver Bay. I never thought I would get this close to Co Rd 6 before it got dark. Moved up into 140th place.
At County Road 6 aid station, I was in for another surprise. As I ran in, I came across Brad, Dallas, and Murray getting ready to head out! All three have BQ speed in their legs, so I was very surprised to be as close to them as I was. I raided my drop bag for gels, salt tabs, my pullover (again, thanks Joel!), a fresh shirt, and my handheld light. Said "hi" to Robyn Reed, whom I met at the spring race, working the aid station, and was off again. It didn't take long to come up to the trio of Manitobans. I think somebody was having a wardrobe malfunction, and I passed them. I was power-hiking up a storm at this point. There were lots of opportunities to break into a run in the last half of this section, and I took the opportunity any time the trail gave it. I don't recall passing many people, but somehow ended up in 126th place.
The Finland aid station is more or less the halfway point of the race. It's a huge aid station, and the start for the 50 mile race. I didn't have a drop bag here, so had no real reason to stick around. I downed some hot chicken soup as quickly as I could, and was out. The next section to Sonju Lake was another easy section, but was completely in the dark. It also seemed longer than it should be (typical of running at night). I noticed that people were starting to pass me, and that my power-hiking pace was slowing down. The good news is that the highest point on the race course is over this section, so technically it was all downhill from there. Yeah right.
Sonju Lake was a welcome sight. I had a change of shoes here, as well as spare batteries for my headlamp. For some reason I didn't think I needed spare batteries for my handheld, as it was supposed to last for 12 hours on the setting I had it on, and it was definitely fully charged before the start. About 5 minutes after leaving the aid station, I realized that I forgot my handheld at the aid station. Aaaaargh! I briefly contemplated continuing on without it, but came to the conclusion that thinking wasn't my strong point at that time, and that if I had planned to run with it I better should. I wasted 10 minutes going back to the aid station and reclaiming my handheld. A few minutes later, it died on me. Motherf^&*er. I was now down to one light, my headlamp. I was counting on my handheld casting shadows on the rocks and roots so I would know how high to lift my feet. Now I just had the flat light that was emanating from my forehead. And wouldn't you know it, a few minutes after my handheld died, my headlamp gave me the "low battery" warning. Great. That meant I had only one set of batteries to make it the rest of the night. The cold of the night must have been wreaking havoc with my batteries. I didn't want to get caught out in the middle of nowhere in the freezing cold, unable to move, so I delayed changing headlamp batteries until I could barely see my feet. I was somewhere around 1 or 2 in the morning, and down to my last set of batteries. Fortunately, my handheld started working a little bit, enough for me to be able to change my headlamp batteries. So at least I wasn't fumbling around in the dark. Despite all the shenanigans that went on, I arrived at Crosby Manitou aid station in 117th place.
Crosby Manitou is another huge aid station. If there's something you want food-wise, they have it. It is also the last aid station before what is affectionately-known as "the suck". As a result, there were a lot of pity parties crowded around. I would have none of that. I knew that if I thought about what was ahead, the warm food would coax me to stay far too long. I grabbed a handful of cold quesadilla (didn't want to stick around long enough for a hot one) and got out of there. The suck came quickly. This section had a seemingly non-stop of ups and downs into the Manitou river gorge, before crossing it and continuing with more ups and downs. Eventually, you end up in a swamp that threatens to suck the shoes off your feet. And lastly, you get to the most-runnable few miles of the entire race. Even though I had a mad case of the sleepies, I took the gift the trail gave me, and ran into Sugarloaf aid station, now in 106th place.
I had made the decision during the suck that I needed a 20 minute nap just to rest my eyes for a bit and stave off the sleepies. I was in danger of passing out on my feet and face-planting on a rock (if I was lucky), or falling off a cliff (if I was unlucky). I was greeted at the aid station by Jen (Brad's wife), Lisa, and Dallas (who dropped at Finland), and took charge over me. They found my drop bag, threw a sleeping bag over me, and let me get my rest. I don't know if I even slept at all, or if it was even 20 minutes, but when I stood up I felt refreshed. The daylight had brought warmth to the race again, and I was able to ditch the unnecessary weight of my lights, batteries, and pullover. After a long aid station stop, I was off. There was no way I was not going to finish after making it through the night. The next section to Cramer Road was relatively uneventful, except for all the mud holes. And somehow I only lost one place, arriving in 107th.
I was in a great place at Cramer Road. Fortunately, I had missed the started of the marathon, so it wasn't a zoo. At the aid station, I saw some kids wearing matching shirts cheering on their daddy. That kind of thing always gives me a warm feeling inside. A couple of sausage patties for breakfast, and I was moving. The section from Cramer to Temperance is one of my least favourites. Even though you follow the scenic Cross River, after you cross it you need to climb up up up before a huge drop into the aid station. By this point, my knees were starting to rebel. Everything hurt. I was crashing. Hard. In 93rd place.
I had a huge breakdown at the Temperance River aid station. I saw in the chair and moaned and whined. I wasn't prepared to drop. I just wanted the pain to stop. I wanted my knees to stop hurting. I wanted the race to be over. But none of that was going to happen sitting in a chair. After wasting far too much time, I took two tylenols and left. I knew most of the rest of the race, as it was in common with the spring Superior 50k. The only wildcard was the climb up Carlton peak. Fortunately, climbing didn't hurt the knees. But it did make me tired. For some reason, I was particularly annoyed by some hikers hogging a bench partway up. I vowed that I would sit at the next bench I found. And wouldn't you know it, there was a picnic table right below the summit. When I sat down, the sleepies came back. The sun was so warm on me, that I feel asleep. I have no clue how long I was there for. I was woken up abruptly by Brad shouting at me as he ran by. I took my cue, and followed after him. I had lost a lot of time and placing with my ill-advised summit snooze. I came into Sawbill in 122nd place.
Sawbill was my final drop bag, and I didn't waste very much time there. Murray was just a minute behind, and caught up to me at the aid station. I briefly considered running with Brad and Murray, but decided that each person must run his own race, and so left before them. I don't remember much of the section to Oberg, other than chatting with Stewart, the race director of Ozark 100. It sounds like a really good race, and one that I would love to run one day. The downside of all that chatting was that I began missing my watch's beeps, and missed taking a few gels. That was energy I needed and wouldn't be getting back. Oh well. Ran into Oberg in 121st place.
I basically ran through Oberg aid station. I wasn't going to let something like 7 miles stand between me and a belt buckle. I got Lisa to fill my water bottles while I shed some weight in the outhouse for the last push to the finish line. I was out of the aid station before Brad or Murray got there. I pushed hard. Really hard. But my body just wasn't responding any more. I felt pretty good getting to the top of Moose Mountain, but the descent blew my legs apart, and I couldn't get my form back for Mystery Mountain (the final hill). Brad blew by me like I was standing still, and finished 13 minutes before me. At the top of Mystery, I was passed by Jason, one of the co-race directors of Kettle Moraine. I was so in the zone, that I didn't recognize him. He was running the 50 mile, and I think my chattiness was holding him back (sorry). When I got to the Poplar River, I was elated. It was less than a mile to the finish line, and all runnable. If only my body was able to run. I put on my Emil Zatopek face, and limp-ran through the finish chute. I don't know if I scared anybody with my primal scream after crossing the finish line, but it was something I just had to do. I had to let everything that was in me spill out. 35 hours and 18 minutes of suffering was over. John Storkamp gave me my belt buckle, and as I was crawling toward my hotel room, I heard Murray's name announced on the loudspeaker. He was only 30 seconds behind me!
I learned that the perfect weather (and slightly easier course) had allowed the men's course record to be broken by nearly 2 hours. And Mallory also ran a phenomenal race, placing first again with the second-fastest time ever. I have a feeling she'll be back again next year with the aim of breaking the course record. Steven Graupner had to drop at Sugarloaf with a bad foot. And Craig eventually finished with 30 minutes to spare before the cutoff.
This race took a lot out of me. Over a week later, and my knees and ankles are still tender to the touch. I haven't gone out for a post-race run yet either. But it was all worth it. I got my first 100 mile belt buckle, and finished one of the toughest races out there. If I can finish this race, I can finish any.
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Superior 100 is almost upon us
Just two more sleeps and I'll be running the Superior 100. This has been quite a year for me running-wise, and once Superior is over I still have one more race to do. Not that I'm looking past Superior. If anything, I'm doing just the opposite.
Prerace obsession is in full swing. I haven't done anything stupid (yet) like heading out for a last-minute 30 mile LSD run. And my schedule has forced me into a slightly easier taper than I would have liked. So fitness-wise, I've never been more prepared.
The wildcard for this race is the weather. We're going to be in a cold snap, with highs of the low teens, and lows in the single digits. Much cooler than the 30+ weather I've been training in. While the temps look like perfect running weather, I've completely forgotten how to dress for it! I think the smart thing to do is to wear a t-shirt and bring a nylon jacket. A pair of long pants in a dropbag for the middle of the night in case I need it.
Next blog post is either going to be a good one, or a really really bad one. We'll see.
Prerace obsession is in full swing. I haven't done anything stupid (yet) like heading out for a last-minute 30 mile LSD run. And my schedule has forced me into a slightly easier taper than I would have liked. So fitness-wise, I've never been more prepared.
The wildcard for this race is the weather. We're going to be in a cold snap, with highs of the low teens, and lows in the single digits. Much cooler than the 30+ weather I've been training in. While the temps look like perfect running weather, I've completely forgotten how to dress for it! I think the smart thing to do is to wear a t-shirt and bring a nylon jacket. A pair of long pants in a dropbag for the middle of the night in case I need it.
Next blog post is either going to be a good one, or a really really bad one. We'll see.
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