2015 Kettle Moraine 100

Last year was a disaster in terms of races.  I had a string of three 100 mile DNFs, including the 2014 Kettle Moraine 100.  In that race, I dropped out at 100k and earned what I dub "the belt buckle of shame".  This year my goal was to finish the full distance.

I went into the race undertrained.  Life (and a broken treadmill) had gotten in the way of quite a few key workouts.  I also was confined to the car for an entire day just getting to the race.  So saying I was a bit stiff at the starting line is an understatement.  I managed to luck out and get a cheap motel room in Janesville, 30 minutes from the starting line.  Looking for a large pre-race dinner, I spotted a Famous Dave's a few blocks away and thought "what the hell".  One hour later, a Feast For One was in my stomach: Four ribs, a quarter chicken, a dollop of beef brisket, corn bread, corn on the cob, steak-cut fries, broccoli, and beans.  I ate everything but the beans because I didn't want to be a pig.

Morning came before I knew it and I was at the starting line with 350 of my closest friends.

The Kettle Moraine 100 course consists of two out-and-back sections.  The first out-and-back starts at the Nordic trailhead, makes a large half-circle on ski trails before exiting the ski area and follows the Ice Age trail east to the Scuppernong turnaround point to make up the first 100k.  The second out-and-back follows the same large half-circle on ski trails but instead of turning east on the Ice Age trail, you turn west and continue until the Rice Lake turnaround point to make up the remainder of the distance.  Each out-and-back has the first 7.5 miles in common, so we would be running the same section of trail for 30 miles by the end.  It gets old fast.

I positioned myself near the front to be a bit of an asshole.  Last year, I positioned myself close to the back, and ended up having to pass half the field after they slowed down 0.1 miles into the race.  This time, I figured it's their turn to pass me.  It's also much easier to let somebody else do the passing.

The nordic ski trails were much larger, steeper, and numerous than I remember.  They would not be bad if skiers believed in switchbacks.  But instead of taking a nice gentle line up the side of a hill, skiers prefer to go straight up and over.  And over.  And over.  The Bluff aid station could not come soon enough, and not just because I disliked the hills.  The Feast For One (FFO) was making its presence known early in the race.  Maybe gorging on massive amounts of greasy food is not a good way to carbo-load.

After a quick pit stop at Bluff, the fun single-track began.  Because of my strategic placing at the start, I wasn't stuck behind a large conga-line who believed in walking over every twig, leaf, and berry unless it was 100% flat.  It was free running for me.  This is my most favourite section of the course, as the hills are not excessively steep (though they can be quite large) and the shade the trees provide is simply magical.  I made it to the Emma Carlin aid station just in time for FFO to come knocking again.  15 miles in and already two pit stops.  Things were not looking good.  I grabbed my second handheld water bottle here, because my next chance was going to be at Scuppernong and I wanted to have a second bottle for the section leading up to Scuppernong.

The next section was the dreaded "Meadows".  Basically, instead of taking a meandering route through the trees to go around a large swamp with constant 100% humidity and sunshine (even at night, so I've heard), the makers of the trail opted to make a meandering route through the middle of it.  Fortunately, the sunshine was mostly obscured by clouds and it was still fairly early in the morning.  In the heat of the day, that 9 mile section becomes absolutely lethal.

I made it through the meadows in record time and arrived at the Highway ZZ aid station over an hour faster than last year.  After my routine FFO pitstop, I began the long 5 mile section towards the Scuppernong turnaround.  The first half of this section is fairly rocky, rooty, and hilly.  Fortunately, there are switchbacks up the hills.  The second half of the section is easy double track.  I made up yet another 15 minutes over my time last year to complete the first 50k in 6:25:12.  Seeing as how I DNFed last year for running a slower time, my confidence was shaky.  Nevertheless, after a quick FFO and shoe exchange I was starting my return leg.

The Meadows had warmed up to their full potential by the time I got to them.  My strategy was to use one water bottle for drinking, and the other for hosing myself down.  I also put copious amounts of ice in my buff, and hung it around my neck.  The slow melt of the ice and subsequent leaking of cold water helped a lot to keep me cool, but after 6 miles of baking I was done.  I walked the last 3 miles to Emma Carlin.

The good news was that from Emma Carlin on, I would be running primarily in the shade.  The bad news was that there would be no breeze in the trees.  I kept up with my heat management strategy, and managed to get back to a respectable pace through to Bluff.  For the first time all day, I didn't need a FFO stop.  I did a little dance for joy and began the slog on the ski trail roller coasters.

I came across a lot of runners headed the other way on this section.  I thought I had been moving very well, but apparently they were moving even better.  I then thought back to last year and how I had turned my headlamp on before the Bluff aid station, and was running in the dark on my second trip through the ski trails.  This time I hadn't turned my head lamp on yet, and made it my goal to finish the first 100k without turning it on.  It got rather dicey in the last mile as I couldn't see my feet, but I managed to complete the impromptu goal and turned my headlamp on as I crossed the start/finish line.  100k in the bank in 14:52:33.

I took my time at the start/finish line:  Changed my shoes, had an FFO stop, ate some chili.  At no point did the idea of stopping ever cross my mind.  I had a singular purpose: to make it to the next aid station.  Once there, I would do it all over again.  Even though I detested the ski trails, I powered-walked through them.  My headlamp did not cast good shadows on the ground.  So even though I could see a lot with its wide beam, nothing had any definition and everything seemed "flat".  Especially the dozens of rocks which my right big toe managed to repeatedly find.

The Highway 12 aid station took far longer to get to than I expected.  I think time slows down at night and distances grow longer.  It was starting to cool off at this point, so I made the stop quick (even the FFO stop was fast), and got out of there.  The final section, the Rice Lake Turnaround section is some of the most technical of the entire course.  Lots of rocks, roots, ups, and downs.  It is so steep that in parts they had to install stairs to prevent erosion.  And lucky me, I got to power-walk that in the dark.  Twice.  The elation I experienced entering the Rice Lake aid station (21:15:22) was muted by the sudden realization that I had to do the exact same section again, only in reverse.  My right big toe did not enjoy that prospect and promised to fall off if I rammed it into one more rock.  The aid stations workers were extremely jubilant and tried to be helpful.  But by judging by the pile of empties in the corner of the tent, I figured it would be best if I self-served.  I did the usual fill-up of water bottles, FFO stop, and began to head home.

The sun started to poke its head above the trees as I approached the Highway 12 aid station.  It still wasn't quite bright enough to ditch my headlamp, so I kept it with me.  At this point I could smell the barn.  I grabbed minimal aid, and foregoed the FFO stop.  The skies were beginning to grey over, and they promised to rain.  It was at this point that I realized the section between Highway 12 and Bluff was actually quite runnable if you were able to correctly differentiate between rocks and air.  I began to run.  Over 86 miles into the race, and I was able to run again.  I was on cloud nine.

I got to the unmanned Duffering aid station just as the rain started to come down.  I noticed some other runners slowing down (not sure if because of the rain, or because of the accumulated distance), but got energized by the rain.  I loved it.  Nature was sweating for me.  The rain really cooled the temperatures off, and I still had enough energy to keep my body warm by cranking up the pace.  My excitement fed on itself.  When I got to the Bluff aid station, I blew right through it without even stopping.  Everybody was huddled under the tent, so there wouldn't have been enough room for me to manoeuvre even if I wanted to stop.

Then the ski trails began.

They were sucking the life out of me.  By the time I got to the final Tamarack aid station, I was pretty spent.  Unfortunately, they had pretty much "closed down" by that point.  I'm not sure if it's because they couldn't cook in the rain, or had run out of food, or whatever.  But I really wanted something warm in my stomach for the last 5 miles.  All they had was coffee.  That wasn't going to cut it.  When a runner and her pacer came in and said that it was only 9-minute miles to be able to finish under 27 hours, I stood up and said "Challenge Accepted!".  I took off down the trail at a pace I knew I could not sustain, but did not care.  I only had to make it to the finish line.  I figured that after I crossed the finish line, my lifeless corpse would be somebody else's problem.

I tried hard.  I tried very hard.  But the sub-27 was not going to happen.  I ran every downhill (even the ridiculously steep ones), and power-hiked every uphill (even the ridiculously steep ones).  But in the end, it was running on the flats that did me in.  I just didn't have 9-minute speed left in my legs.  My last-second goal wasn't going to pan out.  But just as quickly as I was disappointed that I was going to miss the impromptu goal of running 100 miles in under 27 hours, I became excited because I realized that I was on the cusp of having run 100 miles.

I finished in 27:10:34.  I did it.  One hundred freaking miles.  Done.  Over.  The monkey that was on my back from last year disappeared in a cloud of smoke.  I was presented my ornamental copper kettle, introduced to a lawn chair, and fell asleep 6 inches past the finish line.

Kettle Moraine 100 preamble

We're a week out from the Kettle Moraine 100 miler in Wisconsin.  My legs are more than recovered from a rocky/rooty/muddy Superior 50k.  Physically, I'm as ready as I'll ever be.  Mentally is a different story.

I've got an axe to grind with KM100.  I dropped from the race last year for no particularly good reason at the 100k mark, and earned my "belt buckle of shame".  Maybe saying there was no good reason is not quite accurate, since I forgot my race vest at home and had to rely on the one handheld water bottle I had brought, along with another I managed to borrow off a really awesome ultrarunner from Mankato called Tom Weigt (Hi Tom!).  I wasn't able to carry any food with me, relying solely on the aid stations and what I could carry in my hands.  So maybe I was a bit calorie-deficient by the time I dropped.  I'll never really know.

But in any case, that's the past.  I can only look forward to the next race, to the next aid station, and to the next step I need to take.  I've been watching the weather forecast for Whitewater Wisconsin like a hawk, and it's been all over the place.  Yesterday, they were calling for highs in the 30s and thunderstorms!  Today, the forecast has cooled off quite a bit to something manageable.  But one thing is constant:  The trails are going to be very soft with a lot of rain falling before (and possibly during) the race.

Superior 50k

The alarm went off at a civilized 6am.  I had plenty of time to get organized and pick Scott up for 8.  I asked Scott if he had everything, as I didn't want to go back to pick anything up.  He said "Yup", and began listing things off.  When he got to "passport", I realized I forgot mine at home.  With egg on my face, we made a quick detour to my house to get my passport.

The drive to Lutsen was pretty fun.  Scott claimed he didn't know how to drive stick (I'm still convinced he was punking me), so he was in charge of the music.  He did a pretty good job at introducing me to the finer nuances of Cajun.  After going around in circles in Duluth, we made it onto the right highway and got to Lutsen in time for race packet pickup and a quick bite to eat at the Caribou Highlands Lodge.  While waiting for a table, we were joined in line by Robyn Reed whose blog it turns out I follow.  She joined us for dinner since it was a long wait for a table, and we got to discuss the finer points of craft beer and mead.

Scott and I decided to camp at Temperence River State Park, but got to the campsite office closing time had long since passed.  Fortunately, a park ranger was still in and let us get a spot for the night.  I can't say enough about those guys, they were really easy going and awesome.  The spot we got was technically an "undesirable" site because it was next to the highway.  But with earplugs in, I didn't hear a thing all night long.

The next morning was chilly, as we had expected.  The forecast we checked the previous day said it would be 6 degrees at race start, and would have a high of 8.  Two hours of sunshine with the rest being overcast.  With a forecast like that, I figured it would be best to wear wind pants and a long-sleeved tech shirt.  When we got to the start line, it felt much warmer so I stripped off the pants (fortunately for everybody present, I had compression shorts on underneath).  After a quick race-day check-in and a speech from John Storkamp (race director extraordinaire), we were off.  I elected to take a relaxed pace.  Scott is much faster than me, and took off at his usual pace.  I didn't think I'd see him again until the turnaround.

The Superior 50k race starts on the road beside the Caribou Highlands Lodge, and makes an out & back along the Superior Hiking Trail to the summit of Carleton Peak turnaround.  Along the way are two aid stations:  One at the Obert Mountain trailhead, and the other at the Sawbill trailhead.  The terrain pretty technical: Plenty of rocks, roots, mud, climbs, and descents.  The trick is into not getting stuck in a conga line where the people in front of you aren't confident in running on said rocks/roots/mud.

The first mile of the race is entirely on the road, and after the first half mile I looked around and realized that there were only 4 people behind me.  That was not good.  Either everybody started off too fast or I was going too slow.  I glanced at my Suunto GPS watch, and gathered that I was going at exactly the pace I should have been going (keeping it real, and waiting to use my energy on the nasty climbs ahead).  It was everybody else who was blasting out of the gate.  Unfortunately, this created one of the aforementioned conga lines the second we hit the single track.  There was more walking through mud puddles and descents than I wanted over the first few miles.  I managed to pass a few people going down Mystery Mountain (wheeeee!) and leapfrogged a few on the insane climb up Moose Mountain.  After we got to the top of Moose, I made my move and blasted past probably about 20 runners, and finally got my groove-on as my pace was no longer being dictated by other people.

Going down Moose, the trail widened a bit and I passed a few more people.  At the bottom, I was surprised to see Scott ahead of me.  He said he had stepped off the trail for a few minutes.  Dang, so I wasn't turning into a rock star.  I didn't even try and keep with him, as he took off again.  After what felt like a few miles of nonstop mud, I came to the Oberg Mountain aid station.  One of the goals I had for this race was to have F1-style aid stops, where I'd fill my water bottles and get out.  I had to make one small modification to that plan this one time, as my left shoe had filled with mud during the previous leg and there were more rocks in it than I would have liked at that stage of the race.  Still, I consider it to have been a short aid stop.  I did manage to have a bit of fun with the "25k turnaround" sign.  I did a 360 around it and kept going.  One quarter of the race was now done.

I thought that there was a lot of mud between the start and Oberg Mountain, but the next section of trail was going to prove me wrong.  The section between Oberg and Sawbill was almost one long swamp.  I let my inner kid out, and puddle-jumped a few times.  The cold mud splashes felt great on my legs as the day heated up.  Wait a minute...  Wasn't the forecast supposed to be a high of 8?  How come there aren't any clouds in the sky?  Uh oh, maybe a black long sleeved shirt wasn't the best choice.

Sawbill came at just the right time, as I ran out of water just a minute before.  A quick top-up and I began the long climb up Carleton Peak.  I was surprised when I came upon Scott on his way down, as I was almost at the top.  I was expecting to have seen him much earlier (like around the Sawbill aid station).  Nevertheless, some words of encouragement were exchanged and I power-hiked to the top.  Halfway through the race in 3:15:48.  The views were amazing.  And the cold beer (courtesy of a local ultrarunning legend whose name escapes me) was even better.  I caught up to Scott on the way down and asked him what was going on.  He told me his ankle was hurting something fierce, and the brace he was wearing wasn't helping.  Doh.

The way back was pretty much like the way out, except in reverse.  The only difference was that I now had 25k runners to contend with.  Fortunately, they were pretty late in their race by that point, and had spread out so there were no conga lines.  I was also pretty relaxed, as I had proven everything I needed to prove, and elected to slow down and save my legs for Kettle Moraine 100 in three weeks.  Lots of words of encouragement were exchanged between myself and the back-of-the-pack 25k runners.  I caught up to a group of 3 women where the race turns from the single track SHT and onto the gravel road.  They were excited to learn that there was only 1 mile left in the race.  I told them to finish strong and book it to the end.  I believe my exact words were "You can breathe after the finish line".  Not sure if they bought it.  One final adrenaline surge, and I crossed the finish line in 6:49:00.  The second half of the race took me 3:33:13, which was a bit faster than I was aiming for.  Still, I'm pretty happy with how it went.  I think if I didn't have my "A" goal race coming up in 3 weeks, I could have easily dropped 20 minutes from my finish time.

Scott finished 20 minutes behind me.  He was pretty happy with that, as he thought I finished over an hour before him and I was stuck without the car keys!  I spent most of the time waiting in line to hose down my legs and shoes.  The atmosphere at the race finish was amazing.  I fell in love with the Superior fall races two years ago when I paced Sue, so I was pleased to find that the awesomeness at the finish line there extended to the spring races too.  A quick change, a bowl (or two) or chili, and a few beers in the sun, and we were ready to call it a day.

The drive back seemed longer, probably because we were both tired from the long day.  A surprise thunderstorm before Bemidji made me want to pull over and spend the night.  Driving at night I can handle.  Driving in the rain I can handle.  But driving at night in the rain, and I draw the line.  Fortunately, the rain was fairly short-lived and we never did pull over in Bemidji.  However, I began to feel tired just after we passed Grand Forks, and we decided it was best if we pulled over and slept in the car at the next rest stop.  A 6 hour snooze was exactly what the doctor ordered, and we got home 2 hours after we woke up.

Now I just need to recover fast so I can get a few good miles in before my big race: Kettle.

END-SURE 2015

Those of you with better memories than I may remember that I ran in END-SURE 50k two years ago and it was epic. For everybody else, here's my old race report.

Fortunately, this year's edition of END-SURE was completely different.  It was a RACE!

Four a.m. came far too quickly.  Managed to crawl out of bed, get dressed, double-checked that I had everything I needed, and picked Sebastien up just before five.  We had a five hour drive ahead of us, the race, then a five hour drive back.  It was going to be a long day, and my car's cruise control bit the dust earlier that week.  Awesome.  We made it to the border just as Neil Diamond's "Coming To America" came to the top of my playlist.  Sebastien, being from France, needed some extra paperwork done.  After a 30 minute wait and him getting forgotten about inside the customs building by a few agents, we eventually got back on the road and made good time.  I had forgotten to get my pre-roadtrip Egg McMuffins in Winnipeg, but managed to scoop one up in Grand Forks.

The Race

The first year the race was put on, there was a large Winnipeg contingent of runners show up, and there was a snow storm the night before and we had over a foot of snow (in some places two feet) to trudge through.  Last year, nobody from Winnipeg showed up and there was no snow.  This year, the Winnipegers came en masse, and it snowed the night before.  Fortunately, it was just a light dusting and actually improved the trail by freezing some of the mud.  Two years ago, the race was a point-to-point with the first half of the race on very flat terrain.  They moved the start and finish line for the start to Sheyenne Oaks Horse Camp, and made the race an out & back.  This means there would be sandhills pretty much the entire race.  Sweet awesome scenery the whole time!

When the gun went off promply at 11, and I wasn't quite ready.  I had all my race gear on, but hadn't tied my shoes yet.  The result was that I was DFL leaving the start line (about 30 seconds after everybody else did).  No worries, as it was a long race.  And I didn't want to get sucked into a pace I couldn't maintain anyway.  There was an initial out & back on the gravel road down a hill (and back up it), before following the road towards the trailhead (about 1.5 miles away).  This section of the race was kinda boring.  I wish they had cut trail from the horse camp to the trailhead, but I guess there must have been some private property in the way.  No worries though.  The only thing I had to watch out for was getting used to a faster pace on the road than I would want to go once we got on the trail.  When I got to the trail, there were a few large puddles that we were able to skirt around.  Thanks to the snow the previous night, the mud on either side of the puddles was frozen pretty hard, and we didn't sink in.  It was here that I came up to Melissa Budd.  She is an amazing runner, and a master at keeping even splits (she has a few wins at Lean Horse 100 to prove it), so I figured it would be unwise to pass her.  I ran with her a bit and we both caught up to Joel.  He was running 18 & 2's, and once his walk break came up I left him.  My plan was to power walk when the trail told me to power walk (up the hills), and not when a clock told me to.  To each his own.  Melissa told me soon after that she had a few road races coming up and she was taking it really easy, and was about to slow down.  That was my cue to leave her.  By this time, it was starting to warm up so I stripped off my toque, gloves, and windbreaker, and attached them to the outside of my race vest.  After about 200 metres, I realized that my jacket was not attached to my vest any more.  I figured (quite rightly) that it wasn't going to be going anywhere and I could pick it up on the way back.

When I got to about 3 miles from the turnaround point, the leaders were coming back.  Lots of high fives were had by all.  The first two guys even managed to turn around before the 25k runners started (under two hours to the turnaround, WOW!).  I got to the turnaround (which doubled as the first aid station) in 2:47 feeling great, and having just run out of water.  A quick fill-up and a few free salt tabs, and I was heading back.  My race plan was to take the first half really easy, and re-assess on the way back.  Speed up if everything was feeling good, and negative split.  I was feeling good, so I sped up (or so I thought).  I started to reel a lot of runners in.  Some of them were obvious blow-ups, and others were moving well that were just going a wee bit slower than I was.  The second (and last) aid station came far earlier than I expected.  A quick calculation in my head said that I only needed to fill two of my water bottles to make it to the end in one piece.  I was running by feel instead of using my GPS watch's pace feature, as the constant turns and hillwalks would have made that number meaningless.  And I was feeling great.  A lot of people commented on the ear-to-ear grin I had as I passed them.  As I approached the finish line before the last mile out & back, I ditched everything I had except for a water bottle and gunned it.  The last uphill right before the finish line felt like a sick joke, but I took it all in stride running the adrenaline rush that only the scent of the finish line can give.  I crossed in 5:41:46.  The second half of the race took me 2:54, so I'd call that an even split.  I probably walked more hills on the way back than I should have.  Overall, I felt great at the end.  Sore, but great.  Some twisted sick part of me wished that the race was 50 miles and wanted to run the trail one last time.  I've never felt that good at the end of a race before.

Sebastien also had a good race, finishing the 25k in 2:44 (which was also his longest race to date).  Most of the other Winnipeggers had great results too.  And everybody had a good time.  Mallory won the women's 50k and Stephen destroyed the old course record in the 100k.  We ate burgers, shared laughs, and drank beers.

Unfortunately, Sebastien and I didn't have a hotel room to crash in, so we had to leave at 6:30 and try to be back in Winnipeg before midnight.  Thankfully, Sebastien was cool with taking the first driving shift so I could let my legs rest for a bit.  After a fill-up in Grand Forks, I took the driving duties back and we had an uneventful drive home (the Canadian border guards are much cooler than the Americans).

TL;DR

END-SURE 50k is a great early spring race.  The weather is just right, and the sandy soil drains makes the trail 99.99% dry.  The course markings are exactly where they should be, and the level of organization is great too.  I recommend it to anybody!

Race planning 2015

So last year's race plans kinda fell apart.  I managed to DNF every race I entered, except for the 24-hour Lemming Loop (hard to DNF a timed race).  66 miles at Zumbro, 62 miles at Kettle Moraine, and 50 miles at Black Hills.  All results were vastly under the full distance of 100 miles.  And I had an excuse for each DNF.  But when you really get down to it, the real reason was being under-trained.

This year is going to be different.  I've made some changes.  First off, I got a coach.  Not just any coach, but one who knows what he's doing.  My diet hasn't improved much, but that's not terribly high up on my list.  It's more of a "nice-to-have".  Being able to run the full distance is a first priority.  Running fast is a second.

Now that it's January, the time has come to plan out my year's races.  I've already signed up for two, am considering two others, and am waffling about another one.  The races I've already signed up for:  END-SURE 50k and Kettle Moraine 100M (my "A" race).  I previously wrote about END-SURE here, and am hoping to halve my previous time.  It's later in March now, so the odds of a snowed-in trail are a lot lower.  As for KM100, I've decided that I dropped in that race last year because of my head, not because of anything physical.  I know I can do that race.  The terrain is relatively flat, and it's mostly shaded.  There's absolutely no reason for me not to be able to do it.

The races I'm considering:  Superior 50k and Superior 100M.  The Superior 50k is another early-season race, a few weeks after END-SURE.  It would be a good long run to get in before KM100.  It would also qualify me for Superior 100M, even though John Storkamp has already assured me that by pacing Sue for the last 50 miles two years ago, that I knew what I was getting myself into and am already qualified.  Finishing Superior 100M would be amazing.  But I know it's a huge undertaking.  There is way more vertical in that race than anything else I've done.  And running along with Sue over the last half of the course just about broke me.  I don't think I would have been able to do that twice!  But for some reason, I'm a sucker for punishment (e.g. my race goals last year).  I already have a race plan made for it, so I may as well run the damn thing.

The race I'm waffling about is Lemming Loop.  I know I'm going to enter it, but I'm not sure of the amount of time.  I definitely don't want to enter the 24 hour, as that's just a little too long going around in circles and I don't want to take an extra vacation day.  The thought of aiming for 100km in 12 hours is appealing, if not ambitious.  But the 6 hour is also pretty appealing.  Fortunately, I have a lot of time to make up my mind.

To summarize, here is my list:

• END-SURE 50k
• Superior 50k
• Kettle Moraine 100M
• Superior 100M
• Lemming Loop

Zumbro 2014 Race Report

The first race of the Gnarly Bandit is the Zumbro 100.  It is a race in the Zumbro Bottoms state park.  The terrain is breathtakingly spectacular.  It is a perfect place to stage an ultra.

I picked up Dwayne Sandall at 6:30am on Thursday morning and made it to the starting area at 4:00pm in time for the race package pickup and drop bag dropoff.  Met a few other runners, then headed off to Dane Liebel's to crash for the night.  We stayed up a bit later than I should have wanted to, and got a bad night's sleep as I just laid there in bed nervous about the race the next morning.

We arrived at the start line an hour before the 8:00am start time, and I took every second getting things ready before the start.  John got the Gnarly Bandits together for a pre-race photo (which I am embarrassed to be a part of), then off we went.  I let just about everybody go ahead so I wouldn't be sucked into a pace that I knew I couldn't keep up, and got to the first aid station almost on my 30-hour pace in 2nd-last place; exactly where I wanted to be.

I made the mistake at the start of wearing everything I had because I was cold before the race started (mistake #1).  I kicked myself for that, because I know better.  I have it dialed in exactly what I need to be wearing given the temperature, and how cold I should feel before the starting gun goes off.  Needless to say, I was sweating pretty hard for the first hour of the race and would suffer for it for the next four hours.  I dropped off my wind pants, wind jacket, and long-sleeved shirt with Dwayne and went on in just my compression shorts, t-shirt and hat.

By about the mid-point of the first lap I realized I was dehydrating pretty quickly, despite downing a bottle of perpetuem between each aid station along with a salt tablet.  I could feel a massive headache coming on and I hadn't peed at all.  At the 3rd aid station of the loop, I decided to change my bottle strategy around and use one bottle for perpetuem and the other for water, alternating sips from each.  I also started taking two salt tablets at each aid station with a big gulp of water.  I slowly started coming around as I left the 4th aid station, and lumbered in to the start/finish area in 4:32, slightly ahead of my 30-hour pace.

The second lap, I started getting hot again but had nothing else to strip off (in my mind).  I did a lot of walking.  After passing through the second aid station, I realized that my problem was that I was sweating in my hat but that the sweat wasn't evaporating, just dripping off.  The body cools itself through evaporation, so the solution was obvious: take the freaking hat off.  I removed it and slowly started feeling better.  I had never run with that hat on before, and knew that I shouldn't try something new on race day (mistake #2).  So just as the mid-afternoon heat left and a breeze started blowing, I had finally got my heat issues sorted out.  Better late than never.  Finished that lap in 5:12.

Dwayne reminded me that it was starting to get dark and that I would need a headlamp soon, but I didn't have one at the start/finish area because I figured that I was only hitting that aid station once per loop while I was hitting the other aid stations twice.  Fortunately, I still had plenty of daylight left to get to the first aid station safely.  As part of my rush through the start/finish area, I forgot that it cooled off when the sun goes down and didn't take my long-sleeved shirt.  When I got to the first aid station I realized my mistake and hoped that Dwayne did too and would bring it to me during the loop.  Unfortunately, he didn't know I had forgotten it and never came around.  But on the bright side, I did remember to pick up my headlamp.  By this time, the temperature was in my "happy place" and I was burning the trail up behind me.  When the sun finally set and I turned my headlamp on, I had a pretty good shiver-on happening.  One volunteer at aid station 3 asked me how I was doing (I hate that question, as it's so subjective and leaves open the possibility of negative thoughts), and I replied that I was freezing.  He asked me if I wanted to sit down.  Ummmmmm.... no.  I think I'll not try and cool myself off even more, thanks.  My motivation to not freeze to death kept me moving fast until I got back to the start/finish area.  I surprised Dwayne because he said he wasn't expecting me for at least another half hour.  I forgot to take my split time for that lap.

At this point, I was elated because not only was I halfway through the race, which meant I got to pick up a pacer, but I also finally got to put on my long-sleeved shirt.  Dwayne was itching to go and dropped me a few times on the first climb.  I had fun playing tour-guide and explaining to him which side of the mud puddles was best to go around, and giving him a run-down on when to expect big climbs.  Slowly, the energy I had on the previous lap dissipated and I was crawling along at a glacial pace.  I had some time in the bank at the start of the loop, but it rapidly disappeared when two things happened in quick succession:  1) I got sleepy, and 2) My left calf started to spasm.  The sleepiness was not unexpected, especially after the less-than-quality sleep I had the previous night, but the intensity of it was off the charts into something I had never experienced before.  When we pulled into the 3rd aid station, I immediately sat down in a chair and closed my eyes.  I went out like a light.  I have no clue how long I was gone for, but was woken up by somebody shaking my shoulder (was it Dwayne or a volunteer, I have no idea).  I snapped back into the land of the living and headed off.  Some time later, after climbing Ant Hill and descending down the other side to the road, I encountered my second nemesis: the muscle spasm.  We were "power-hiking" along the road (I can't recall how slow we were going, but I'm sure Dwayne would be able to confidently say that it was somewhere between a slug and a snail), when all of a sudden a shooting pain shot through my left calf which caused me to scream.  After a lot of stop-and-go walking, we made it into the 4th aid station.  I convinced Dwayne to let me have a 10 minute power-nap, and went out like a light.  When he woke me, I said 5 more minutes.  When he woke me the second time, I said 5 more minutes.  When Dwayne woke me the third time I was ready to rock on.  I limped out of the aid station on the way to finish the lap.

The section between the last aid station and the start/finish area for me was a complete blur, and honestly passed real quickly.  I was in pain from my calf, and could barely move.  But somehow, I managed to cross the finish line to complete my fourth lap.  It was at that time that the math became a reality and I needed to finish two more laps at a pace as fast or faster than my first three.  With a fucked-up leg.  Wasn't going to happen.  I turned in my race bib after running 67 miles.

It was when I got to the car for a long sleep that I remembered that I had brought calf compression sleeves, and put them on.  Instant relief.  I didn't wear them at the start because I didn't want to try something new on race day (mistake #3?).  Go figure.  A few hours later, I woke up to a huge rain storm outside.  So maybe my calf saved me from an even nastier DNF.  There are more than a few sections of that trail that are unfriendly when wet, and the going would have been very slow even for seasoned veterans.

To sum up, I have no regrets.  I gave it my all, failed, and learned.  I'm signed up for Kettle Moraine 100, and am still planning on running it.  I can either learn from my mistakes and improve or accept defeat and slink away.  I choose to learn and strive ahead.

Gnarly Bandit

I entered into the Gnarly Bandit, a race series consisting of four 100 mile races and one 100k race.  I feel like I have no business attempting, or even thinking about something like this.  But I'm in it.  My first race, Zumbro 100, is in two days and to say I have butterflies in my stomach is an understatement.  I have never run 100 miles before, and here I am attempting to do four of them in one year (along with a 100k races, a distance I have never run before either).

Wish me luck.