As I start writing this race report, I’m still not 100% sure how it’s going to end up. I have a lot of thoughts running through my head right now about how the Badger 100 went for me. Perhaps some catharsis will happen as I process everything onto the written page? There’s a lot of emotions going on as well, but perhaps the best place to start is with the facts.

How it went

My training block for Badger was pretty darn solid. I got in a lot of good long runs, and my back-to-back 20 milers in a single day was a solid peak week. I also took care not to taper too hard, and kept my activity up to a moderate level until the week before the event. I also included a lot of bike cross training into my routine to help strengthen some different muscles and reduce some impact damage to the body. I have a few things I’d do differently in the future, but it’s mostly small tweaks to schedule and maybe getting at least one race effort into the block.

I also went into the race with a solid plan. I knew that on a flat trail like the Badger it would be too easy to go our hard and then blow up. So I planned to start the race doing my 70/30 intervals (0.7 run, 0.3 walk) right from the start. I knew that if I could hold that pace I’d be in great shape to not overextend myself too early. I also had all of my drop bags packed and ready for just about every contingency that I could come up with.

My friends Mike and Beth were driving me down to help pace and crew for the weekend, and Lisa was joining on Saturday. I had booked an AirBNB near the start line in Orangeville, IL for the night before the race so that we could sleep as late as possible. After packet pickup we headed down and settled in for a quiet evening of rain storms in an old farm house in the middle of the country.

The alarm went off at 4:45am and I quickly started getting ready. The race started at 6am and I wanted to be there a bit early. We piled into the truck at 5:15am to start heading out when the worst nightmare of any racer happened. The truck wouldn’t start. We tried a few things in a panic before changing tactics and trying get a hold of anyone we could think of to come and pick me up to get to the start line. Amazingly our friend Chalayne was close enough that she was able to swing by and grab me while Mike called a tow truck to get his vehicle into a shop and looked as ASAP. My wife also adjusted her plans to get there sooner than expected and so we pivoted to dealing with the situation as best we could.

Despite getting a last minute ride I still didn’t get to the start line until 6:30, a full half an hour later than the start. I knew that if I didn’t calm myself down I’d burn out too fast and so I headed out and started putting the plan into action. This meant doing my 70/30 intervals even though I wanted to just run as fast as I could to try and catch up with the rest of the racers. Eventually the mind calmed down and I settled into the routine and just kept doing what I was supposed to do.

Sure enough I did eventually start catching the back of the pack folks who were mostly walking the course. I jogged past all of them, making brief conversation and explaining why I was bolting up from behind. Catching a few folks helped to get my head back into the game and remind myself that I had a long race ahead of me and there was no need to panic.

Despite the anxiety I had managed to keep my pace pretty well under control during these first miles. I was aiming for a 13 minute mile to start and I was mostly in this ball park. I had a couple miles that were about 12.5, but nothing faster than that. Overall, not a bad way to kick off the day. I was executing the plan, and despite starting late, I was actually catching back up to my projected pace times.

I managed my 70/30s solidly until mile 26 when we begin the detour around the tunnel. This is a road section that goes up and over the tunnel and I knew it was best if I took the hills as they came and ran when I felt like it, instead of trying to force a plan into the terrain. Once I got over and back down the hill I locked into 50/50s, as the day was heating up and I knew I wouldn’t be able to maintain the 70/30s much longer.

Soon enough I was in Belleville, the race HQ and the first big stop of the race for me in my plan. By this point my wife had arrived and Mike and Beth had gotten the truck fixed so everything was back on schedule. I had a sandwich and some pop and did a sock change before heading out on one of the longer slogs of the event, the trail to Dot’s Tavern and back. This 9 mile segment is some of the most exposed trail on the course, and I was hitting it during the hottest part of the day. Even though the temps were pretty good (around 82ºF/28ºC) it was still really sunny and so my running was not as consistent in this stretch as I would have liked. However, I made it to Dot’s and back in under 10 hours elapsed since I started the race. However, during my return from Dot’s is when something started brewing that would define the rest of the day for me.

I got back to Belleville to begin the final 60 miles of the race and met my crew for some more refreshment before heading back out again. I had decided to commit to 50/50s for a while until the sun went down and then I could re-evaluate where I felt things were going. By the time I left Belleville I was only 15 minutes behind my BEST predicted pacing plan. It was insane that I had managed to catch back up to where I had wanted to be. But as I left to hit the trail again things started feeling not so great.

Last year I had surgery to correct a hiatal hernia (nissen fundoplication surgery). One of the potential side effects of this surgery is developing what is called Gas Bloat Syndrome, and sure enough I was one of the lucky folks who ended up with this condition post-recovery. Basically gas bloat syndrome is caused by excessive gas in the intestinal tract (below the stomach) caused by a few factors such as swallowing too much air when eating, and excessive gas production due to things like high carb and high sugar foods. Additionally, after years of proton-pump inhibiting medications (to treat acid reflux) the colon can go through a long process of changing how it handles food and in turn can cause excessive gas build-up. In addition to a lot of gas pain and flatulence, it can also cause frequent need for bowel movements, which may or may not be productive. Needless to say, this is all not ideal when doing an ultra endurance event.

As I made my way to the next crewed aid station I was not just battling the traditional emotional low that comes during these events, but also continuing gas discomfort that comes when eating food. This meant I was starting to enter a harsh calorie deficit because I was avoiding eating. As I approached the next crew station at mile 50 I had already messaged ahead that things weren’t going well.

I got to the Hollywood aid station and immediately headed for the porta-potty before sitting with my crew to figure things out. By this point I was in full “toddler-brain” and just wanted to quit. The idea of going back out there again and dealing with the discomfort, the bathroom issues, and the lack of calories was feeling like too much. All of this is on top of the expected pain and discomfort of having just run 50 miles. My feet hurt, my legs hurt, and I was cranky as hell.

My crew sat me down and I just put my feet up and refused to be cooperative for a good long time. I complained and complained about everything going wrong, and having to deal with the gastric issues and not feeling like I wanted to continue. My wife was incredible during this time and just kept trying to stick to the facts and try to troubleshoot things. She was also determined to not let me quit the race while I had “toddler-brain”. If I was going to quit I needed to be clear-headed, and not just cranky and tired.

After a long break and a bit of food in my stomach that seemed to sit well, they finally convinced me to get back out on course. I was still angry that they got me out there, but there I was heading south again. Things were all still uncomfortable, but the long rest actually gave my legs some new life. I managed to get back to doing some 70/30s to the next aid station and did what I could to try and figure out what foods at the station might work better for my gut. I’m not sure I was in the best place to be doing some high-level troubleshooting though and so I left the station without eating as much as I probably should have.

As I trudged the next 7 miles to the Monroe aid station (where I’d see crew again), I was able to clear my head and enjoy the beautiful summer evening. The temps had dropped and the air was crisp. The trail exploded into fireflies and bats swooped and dove at bugs all around me. It was truly some of the most beautiful time I’ve spent on this trail and it helped me to focus and think about how I wanted to proceed.

My crew was going to meet me at the next aid station with a bunch of different foods to try as an experiment to figure out this gut issue on-the-fly. However as I got closer to the station I felt less and less like continuing on with an experiment, and I wasn’t sure I’d be cognizant enough to be able to make the experimentation useful. My intestines had already endured a lot during the day and they weren’t really feeling like they were going to recover.

The next station was at mile 60 and as I walked I made the decision that I would drop at that station, but that I would go back out for a short out-and-back to finish off 100K. That would give me a solid performance on the day and I felt content with that. I got to the station (used the bathroom yet again), and explained my choice to my crew. I don’t know that I can say that they were “supportive” but they could see that I was clear headed and no longer cranky and emotional. I was making a decision that I was done dealing with the suffering and I was ending on my own terms.

After a few minutes of rest and turning in my bib, Beth joined me for a short jog back down the trail to get my 100K. It was really nice of her to come along with me to finish this off and make sure I got back to the station OK. Originally her and Mike were going to pace me the rest of the way so it was nice to be able to get to spend at least a little time with one of them. While we were out finishing this up Lisa got us a hotel room in Madison, and soon we were on the road to a comfy bed and a good night sleep.

What I’m happy with

Before I get into some of the emotional things that I’m going through post-DNF, I want to spend some time reflecting on how much went well during this event.

First and foremost, my interval method was incredible. It truly helped me maintain the cardio and leg fitness to endure a faster pace for longer than I ever have in a 50+ mile effort. A friend of mine, Brian, does a similar method, but does 7 minutes run and 3 minutes walk, and he completed the 100 miles doing that for almost the entire time. We both agree that methods like this are incredible tools for the 50+ mile toolbox. I’m super stoked to have this in my repertoire for future use, and know I can depend on it in the future.

Because of this strategy I also put down some of my best performances that I’ve ever done. I beat my old 100K time (set on this same course) by close to 40 minutes. At the 50 mile distance I only missed my old PR by 9 seconds, however this would have been blown away if I hadn’t spent 30 minutes at the Hollywood aid station (mile 48.8) with toddler-brain. Overall, I performed better than I ever have and am super proud of this 49yo body to continue to do things that it doesn’t want to do.

I’m also very proud that I managed to keep my wits about me as I had to deal with the panic of starting the race 30 minutes late. This is a situation where a much younger runner version of myself would have shot out of the gate trying to do 8:30 miles to catch back up. Instead I stuck to the plan, maybe allowed myself to push just the tiniest little bit, and went right back to executing what I knew I had to do. My pace curve stayed consistent and I brought myself back where I needed to be in a safe and consistent manner.

Finally, I’m also very proud that I got out of the chair at Hollywood aid station and continued on after suffering from toddler-brain. I wanted to quit so badly, but with the help and encouragement of my crew, I managed to get back out there and back to suffering. I babbled on forever about how I didn’t want to keep going, how I didn’t think I could finish, how I didn’t want to deal with my gastric issues anymore, etc…. but in the end I managed to get back out and give it one more go. I was able to make the DNF decision with a much clearer head. Of all of the days successes, this might be the one I’m most proud of.

Aftermath

Despite all of these successes I now have to deal with all of the emotions that come from a DNF. Yes, I completed a 100K and my body is needing to recover just like from any other 50+ mile effort, but I’m also wrestling with a lot of feelings of failure and inadequacy. Feelings of disappointment for letting myself and others down. Feelings that I just didn’t try hard enough, and I gave up too easy.

In the days that follow a DNF it’s easy to forget how you felt in the moment when you made the decision, and therefore it’s easy to second guess that choice to drop. Thoughts such as, “Was the suffering really that insurmountable?”, or “Did I really feel that bad or was I just making excuses?” These are all normal thoughts as I process everything, but I know that doesn’t make it any easier. This is one reason why it was so important that my crew got me back out there and made sure that I was clear-headed before making this choice and ensuring that I was not still in toddler-brain before pulling the plug.

Still, just being clear headed doesn’t mean that the difficult thoughts stop. It just means that you can know that you made a rational choice in the moment and felt content with it. That still leaves the door open for lots of self-doubt and questioning.

One of the more angsty areas in my thinking right now is wrapped up in identity. What am I about when it comes to endurance activities? Do I see myself as that ultra-endurance person who can knock out a couple of 100 milers in a year? Is that who I am, or want to be? And why is the 100 miler such a mystique distance where you don’t feel adequate if you can’t pull one out of your butt on any given weekend? I’ve done it once before, why do I feel compelled to do it again? Or perhaps it’s not compulsion, but feelings of not measuring up to where I think I should be compared to those around me?

I’ve spent some time, as I’ve been recovering, looking up results on Ultrasignup of people that I know and respect to see how many 100 mile finishes they have. The truth is that even some of the most accomplished runners that I personally know only have a tiny handful of 100 mile finishes. Many of these very experienced runners only go that far a few times in their career and then focus everything else on other things. Despite examples in my circle of people who’ve completed over a hundred 100 mile races, it does help to put this race distance in perspective.

But then there’s the questioning of what I’m seeking to find when running these ultra long distances. Am I actually looking to find suffering, so as to overcome it? Is there something I’m trying to prove to myself when doing these long distance efforts? And if I’m looking to overcome suffering, and fail to persevere, how do I then view myself and my self-worth? Is there a ‘right’ level of suffering and overcoming that makes sense, beyond which is pointlessness?

The questions of suffering are still very raw in my emotions right now, and so unlike the questions of how I measure up to other runners, these questions are going to need to sit for far longer. Which is good, because many of these questions get to the heart of identity and purpose, and those thoughts should always be approached carefully and thoughtfully.

So now I get to sit for a while and contemplate what all of this means for me. It’s not an easy wrestling process, and nor should it be. It will take time to think through all of these things and figure out what it means going forward. But it’s important work to get through. Knowing and understanding yourself is never a bad thing, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

I have no idea where I’ll come out of this process at, but I’m grateful that I have a community and family around me that’s willing to listen and help me process things. For the moment though it’s time to get back to recovering and then getting back out to being active doing the things I love.