Prologue
I’ve been in the trail and ultra running world for 5 years. In that time I’ve tried my hand at a whole host of different races, both in distance and format. However, I had yet to try a 100 mile race, and I decided that 2019 would be the year that I would consider giving it a shot. Despite not pulling the trigger on registering for the Savage 100 race until late in the summer, I had been planning for it most of the year.
Why the Savage 100 for my first 100? There were a few different issues at play. First, this was the site of my first ever ultra distance, the Surf the Murph 50K in 2015. Going back to that same spot and doing 6 loops, instead of 2, felt like a good connection to where I started.
Second, Surf was a local race, and didn’t require any type of travel logistics. I wasn’t sure how this race would play out, and if I’d even be successful. The idea spending a ton of money on a destination 100 mile race, that may or may not work, didn’t appeal to me. It also meant that I was able to keep my participation a secret for a long time, with folks not figuring it out until only a few weeks before the race.
I decided to keep this race quiet as long as possible because I wanted to focus on getting the work done in training. As awesome as it is to get encouragement from friends, it can sometimes sabotage us by giving us a premature endorphin hit. We feel great about all the kudos we’re getting from folks, that we forget we still need to put in the hard work. I’ve seen first hand how detrimental it can be when people broadcast their big plans, but then lose the energy to make them happen. Therefore, I told only a select couple of people about what I was considering.
I put together my training plan, and joined my wife on many of her hill and speed runs, and just buckled down to do what I could. I got pretty close to the mileage numbers I was looking to hit for the year, only down a few percentage points. When you add in mountain elevation last month, plus a massive increase in biking this year, I was about as ready as I could be for someone in my (non-competitive) physical shape. Now, all I had to do was execute.
The Race
Race day arrived much slower than I wanted it to. The leading up to it seemed to drag on like never before. All I wanted to do was just start going… or abandon it all. I was a mental wreck that week. Soon enough though it was Friday, and I was doing whatever I could to squeeze in some last minute sleep before the 1am Saturday start.
The Savage 100 is a once-every-five-years race at Murphy Hanerhan park in Savage, MN. It is held in conjunction with the Surf the Murph race which offers a 25K, 50K, and 50M distance. Whereas the 25K, 50K and 50M are 1, 2, and 3 loops of the course respectively, the 100 mile is 6 full loops of the course. They also offered a 100K option, though it was really more like a 108K route. This odd number is because the loop is 16.7 miles, which works great for 50 and 100 mile races, but makes other distances just a bit long.
Runners in the 100 mile are given the option of a 1am start or a 5am start. This gives you either 36 or 32 hours to finish the race (1pm Sunday finish), and you can decide for yourself what makes the most sense. Since this was my first attempt, I chose the 1am start. I arrived around midnight and deposited my drop box in the appropriate area by the Start/Finish aid station. I decided to use just one box at Start/Finish that I would return to in between each loop. There are 4 aid stations on every loop, which means you’re never more than ~4 miles from an aid station at any time.
One of the dangers of a looped course with so many aid stations is that you have an opportunity to stop and dawdle a LOT. One of the reasons I decided on only one drop box was to ensure I didn’t spend too much time anywhere except Start/Finish. I budgeted myself 20 minutes on each loop at Start/Finish, but no more than 5 minutes at other aid stations.
Loop 1
Because this is a local race, I knew a lot of people who were toeing the start line with me. It was awesome to get to hang out with so many of my running friends before, during, and after the race. We all gathered at the start line at 1am, and before we knew it, it was time to leave. I knew I needed to be smart and not try to go out too fast on the first loop. I left Start/Finish at a good hike, and only broke into a jog occasionally to give myself a nice long warm up.
Because I’ve run this course a lot in the past I had a lot of data to draw on. I spent a lot of time working out a pacing chart with some different options; some faster, some slower. However, “Option 1”, which was what I felt was the most reasonable, amounted to a 34:15:00 finish. I calculated data for every aid station (both in and out times) and total time for each loop. My goal would be to stick as closely to these times as possible.
As I approached the first aid station at just under 3 miles in, I recalled that it would be unmanned for our first loop. Therefore, I just kept on hiking and running right past it. This would be a common theme for the North aid station throughout my race. I just didn’t need that much when I had just left Start/Finish 3 miles earlier.
The first 5.5 miles of the course are the most brutal hills of the entire race, and you get to do them 6 times. There is one hill that is actually a set of three hills, all going up without descending in-between, which is particularly rough. I knew I’d have to see it every lap, so I simply put it out of my mind and kept focusing on my feet in front of me.
I arrived at the Horse Camp 1 aid station on schedule, and my friend Bob had volunteered to get it up and running for the 1am runners. He was an absolute godsend during the early parts of the race, making sure that we had everything we needed. Since it was my first lap I just grabbed a swig of Coke and moved on. The next ~7 miles of the course is a large prairie section that is mostly flat. Gone are the hills of the north section of the park, and they’re replaced with beautiful rolling fields of prairie grass and easy rolling horse trail.
In the middle is the Natchez aid station which was being manned (solo) by my friend Mark. He cheered me in, got me some more pop and sent me along my way. I then got to hit a small road section that is both a blessing and a curse on every loop. Sure you can run it hard, but you shouldn’t. After a couple times through, you start to get pretty sick of the harshness of pavement, and quickly start longing for more dirt.
Eventually, you enter the trails again and end up at Horse Camp 2 (opposite side of the previous Horse Camp aid station). The loop was going well, so I stuck to my quick visit routine, grabbed some pop and a couple snacks and just kept moving. From there you head into a small connector trail that has unfortunately seen better days. Over the 5 years of running this race, I’ve seen this trail go from being mostly OK to being taken over by a beaver dam that has forever changed the landscape. This trail hasn’t even been open this year to the public, so the fact that the race was able to use it was a huge favor. I’ll be curious to see what the park decides to do in the future with this area because I can’t see it continuing like this forever.
This short section eventually dumps out to a road crossing and back onto trails similar to the ones in the first section. However, these trails aren’t nearly as bad in their elevation change, and you can flow through this section much easier than the first one. Soon enough I found myself back at start finish, my first lap done in 4:30, just 3 minutes slower than my prediction. It was still dark (5:30am) so I set about getting myself ready for the next loop by the light of my headlamp. I had a clean pair of socks for every loop, and quickly changed those out. I stuffed more food in my vest, and got a refill of my Skratch drink, and then headed right back on course. I told myself, this was just going to be my life now.
Loop 2
The next loop would be the loop where the sun would come up. I was moving well and feeling good, so I once again decided to completely skip the North aid station. I announced my number as I walked in (the station was now manned), waved, said thank you, and walked right out. I wanted to get as far down the course as I could before the other races started. The 50 mile started at 6am, the 50K at 7am, and the 25K at 8am. I knew that the further down the trail I got, the more spread out these racers would be. The last thing I needed was to get trampled by a bunch of speed demons as I’m trying to wake up and start my running day.
I also had a mini-goal of reaching Horse Camp 1 before it was light enough where I could put my headlamp away. I grabbed a handful of bacon from Mark (who had moved to this aid station) and as I started heading down the trail the sun was just getting bright enough to ditch artificial light. Wow, does it feel great to put a headlamp away. Going from dull white light to the full light of day is a huge boost to the mental state.
I once again managed to run two key sections that I wanted to target for quicker paces: a large section of the Minnregs lake loop, and the road after Natchez aid station. In fact I managed to run these sections on my first four loops, and portions of them on my last two. Having small mini-goals like this are key to keeping mental sanity when you know you’re going to be out there for 34+ hours.
Although the day was getting brighter, it also brought along with it the threat of rain. The forecast had predicted a couple small showers around 8am, but there were also occasional sprinkles starting earlier. It actually annoyed me because I kept pulling out my shell to stay dry, only to have to take it off 15 minutes later when the sprinkle didn’t develop further. Eventually though the rain hit, and we got a good hour of a nice light shower. It wasn’t very bad at all, and it provided some variety on the day.
I don’t really recall much else about loop 2, except that I finished it in 5:14, 7 minutes faster than my predicted pace of 5:21. Considering I was now a full 50K into my run, this was pretty much spot on.
Loop 3
When I got to the aid station to begin loop 3, my friend Shelly was there and she jumped in to action to help me out. She took care of my bottles, getting my drop box organized, and drying out my shell. She was a huge help in making sure I didn’t spend any more time than I should. I debated changing into a short sleeve shirt for the third loop, but in the end decided to just keep going with my long sleeve. I wouldn’t say I regretted that decision, but I probably could have enjoyed the heat of the day a bit more with a different shirt.
I once again blew through North aid station and put my head down on the triple hill. The day was getting warm, and the sun had emerged from the clouds. The heat was particularly noticeable on the prairie sections, but I managed to move really well despite it. It was a bit surreal to still be out on the same course in so many different conditions. I got to see the trail in lots of different conditions, from wet and muddy, to dry, to covered in frost.
At the Horse Camp 2 aid station I met up with my friend Troy who offered to pace me on my 4th loop. I hadn’t planned ahead for any pacers, but gladly welcomed him to join me for the long hike into uncharted territory. In my pacing chart I overestimated how much I would fade on my third loop, and so I came in 12 minutes under my goal at 5:42. This was only my third time at the 50 mile distance so my data was a bit weaker for this loop.
While I was on loop 3 I got to have a phone call with my wife and got to hear about how she just PR’d the 25K! She asked me what food I wanted at the end of loop 3 and for some reason I decided a vanilla milkshake sounded good. After hanging up, I texted her that some chicken nuggets sounded good too!
Loop 4
I’m not a McDonald’s guy, and I rarely ever eat there. But for some reason, chicken nuggets and a milkshake seemed like the most appealing thing I could ever hope for. When I arrived at Start/Finish she brought me the food and it was instant heaven. I have no idea why it tasted so good, but it was perfect for what my stomach wanted. I scarfed down a 10 piece and a milkshake and just reveled in a nice full belly that wasn’t aid station food.
Despite being ahead of schedule Troy insisted we don’t take too long to get moving onto loop 4. I begrudgingly put myself back together, packed my shell for the transition to evening again, and we headed out on the trail. The sun wouldn’t set for a few hours, so we savored in the final light of the day.
One of the biggest surprises of the 4th lap was when I showed up at Horse Camp 2. My friend Michael surprised me there with beer and chicken fingers. I was shocked that he drove all the way down to Savage to sit at an aid station and wait for me. I was almost in tears as I headed out from the aid station, munching my chicken fingers (I saved the beer for after the race).
I’ve known Troy since my very first trail run at Elm Creek. I’ve been there to witness many of Troy’s adventures into the 100 mile racing realm. Unfortunately, Troy has a bit of a reputation because it took him quite a few attempts to get his first buckle (despite being such an accomplished runner). When I put together my plan for Savage 100 I said that if I could make it through lap 4, I knew I would get it done (barring serious injury). We had a good chuckle at the irony that Troy was going to be the one to help me get through this tough lap, but his experience with so many struggles was huge in helping him motivate me and keep me mentally focused.
Troy even got me back to jogging some portions of the lap, despite feeling like I was done running and wanted to stick to just hiking. He helped me work through that mental hurdle and soon enough I was moving with purpose again. Despite hitting a new all-time high mileage (67 miles) I managed to come in 6 minutes early on my pace chart for loop 4, in 5:48. By this time the sun had set, and it was time once again for a long journey through the night.
Loop 5
While I had been out on loop 4, my wife had talked with our friend Kate and found out that Kate’s runner had dropped and she was looking for another pacing gig. I told her I’d be more than happy to have her join me on loop 5. After my traditional change of socks, and a bit more caffeine we headed out into the dark for what would be one of the harder loops of the race.
Going in to a second night is really tough on the mind. Especially when you know that you won’t finish until the light of day again. The exhaustion was setting in big time, and Kate had her hands full keeping me moving at a steady pace. This time we did manage to stop at North aid station for more pop, and to ensure I was getting enough calories.
I did manage to jog the Minnregs section again, but I just couldn’t do it again on the road. Everything in my body was tight, and every step was a step further than I had gone before. That’s not to say that this was a terrible lap. Far from it, there were still many good sub-20/mile hiking sections. It was great to chat with Kate and get to know her more, and she was an amazing motivator, especially later in the loop. She really helped get me just a few extra steps of quicker movement periodically, which was what my body probably needed.
I don’t recall if I had told her my pacing goal for the 5th loop (6:15), but she managed to get me to the Start/Finish area in 6:14, which was pretty dang amazing. Once there I bid her farewell, and thanked her for sacrificing her night to get me through. My wife had also returned to the course and brought me a breakfast sandwich. Her plan was to meet me at Horse Camp 1 and take me through to Horse Camp 2 before heading back to the Start/Finish to see me at the end. That meant that I would be doing the first 5.5 mile section alone again, in the dark.
Loop 6
On loop 5 I had started to get really cold. We had encountered icy frost and bitter temps in the low lying areas. I had done whatever I could to stay warm but knew I’d need something more for my final lap. I changed into a warm merino wool shirt, and put my shell on over that. I also slipped on some pants over my shorts to help keep warmth in my core. Properly bundled, I headed into the cold, dark morning.
I’d heard about 100 milers and hallucinations before, but had no idea what it would be like to experience them myself. During this first section, the hallucinations came fast and furious which was one of the most surreal experiences I ever have had. Every rock I saw had a face of some kind on it. Branches and leaves turned into weird Halloween lawn decorations, and logs were transformed into animals of the forest that I expected to see. Despite knowing, cognitively, that these were not real, they just never stopped. The light of my headlamp intensified the misdirection, and by the time the sun came up again I was feeling pretty loopy.
The exhaustion was hitting a tipping point. I put on some music to help keep me awake, as my mental state had deteriorated to the point where I was shouting at the hills I was climbing. At one point I started yelling, “I’M GOING TO MESS YOU UP YOU M****** F***** HILL!! YOU’RE GOING DOWN YOU G** D** SON OF A B***!” I kept yelling it into the darkness, but maybe I wasn’t yelling it that loud. I honestly can’t remember.
Right around first light, I got to Horse Camp 1 and met up with my wife. It was such a relief to see another person again. By this point all the other races were done and all that was left on course were 20 or so 100 mile runners. We were all spread out over a 16.7 mile loop, which meant that seeing another person outside of an aid station was rare. My wife helped me refill my bottles, and we headed off into the morning.
As we headed into the prairie we got to talk and I got to share the night’s experiences with her. Despite the company I was moving really slow, and was bordering on sleepwalking. As we approached a small hill with a picnic table on top of it, I decided I needed a short nap. We agreed to let me lay my head down for 5 minutes to try and get some recovery.
I sat at the table, laid my head on my arms, and within 30 seconds was out cold. My wife gave me 6 minutes because of a barking dog just as I laid down, and then gently woke me. I sat up and looked around. I had entered REM sleep almost instantly, and after getting my bearings I realized I felt amazing. Six minutes of sleep, and all of a sudden I was a new person.
We moved through the next aid station quickly, and next thing we knew it I was running on the road section. I hadn’t run a step in hours, but here I was jogging along. My wife would be leaving me at Horse Camp 2, but I was feeling so good that I knew I’d be able to tackle the last 4 miles with no problem. When we arrived, I stripped off my shell, and the pants I had put on, and headed right back out into the woods.
The newfound energy of the day, and my short nap, had created a new possibility for me. I could move with purpose once again. I headed through the beaver dam section with with a mix of jogging and hiking, and as soon as I crossed the road I decided to pop a gel and try and run as much as I could to the end. I don’t think I ever got faster than a 13 minute mile, but it felt like I was flying. I yelled at my legs that I was in charge and that they were going to run the downhills no matter what. I jogged the flats, and hiked as quickly as I could up the hills.
Throughout this 4 mile section I texted my wife that she better not dawdle as I was feeling great, and I would be way ahead of schedule. Sure enough I nailed the final four miles, and broke into a “sprint” to the finish line, crossing in 33:48. A full 25 minutes faster than my goal time. I was only 2 minutes faster than my lap 6 goal time, but it’s obvious that I would have missed that by a lot, and eaten into all the time I had built up on previous laps, if it hadn’t been for that nap.
I collapsed into a chair, took a selfie with the buckle, and cheered in the next few runners behind me. As expected, my blood pressure dropped after about 10 minutes and I had to lay down on a bench. I relaxed for a few minutes before we began the drive home to start my recovery, which so far has gone pretty well except for an infected toenail.
Postlude
There are a few key takeaways that I got from this race. First, it’s the knowledge that I can actually do this. I put in the work as best I could, and I managed to be successful on my first try. This wasn’t because of some magic mantra, or how badly I “wanted” it. It was because I trusted in the process, and accepted that this would take discipline. I simply had to believe that I had done what I needed all year, and so there was no reason I couldn’t accomplish what I had prepared for. Hard work yields results.
One area that I was really pleased with was my planned pacing for this race. I had a lot of prior knowledge of the course to draw on, which helped tremendously. I also knew my abilities, and I planned accordingly. It would have been easy to shoot for the moon with some unrealistic goals that I would never achieve. I’ve learned that a more conservative approach is best, especially when trying something so new that I’ve never done before. All of that paid off tremendously, as I was able to stay really consistent with my plan all throughout the race.
I’ve also learned a lot of lessons about how to handle pain. At a certain point in the race, it just didn’t get any worse. Once I reached that point, and acknowledged it, everything got better. That’s not to say things stopped hurting, quite the opposite. It means that I was mentally able to accept the reality of my situation, and stop dwelling on how to change it. My feet were going to hurt. That’s just how it would be. Just keep moving.
Learning how well a power nap works for me was another key takeaway. Being able to stash that knowledge away for future adventures will be key to more successes. Knowing that 5 minutes of REM sleep is all it takes for me to reset, is a huge tool in my toolbox. With an 80 mile winter ultra coming up in December, being able to manage the sleepies will be tremendously important.
As I continue to process this over the coming months, I’m sure there will be more that I’ll discover. This was something that will stay with me for a long, long time. It took me 5 years of trail running before I took an attempt at the 100. That’s because I wanted to give myself the best chance of success, and I couldn’t be happier with how it worked out.
I should also mention a huge thanks to all of my friends who helped make this happen as well. In particular the TRECs crew who were my role models in how to get this done. Watching them and listening to their advice showed me what I needed to do to really be ready. I also need to say a special thank you to my wife Lisa and acknowledge how wonderful she is for standing by me and supporting me through lots of crazy adventures.
I’m not sure when, or if, I’ll do another 100. I have a couple in mind that I’d like to do, but I also need to balance that with my desire to do other things. Training for a 100 mile race takes a lot of time, and there’s a lot of things to do in life. Realistically, I’m sure I’ll do more in the future, but for the immediate moment it’s time to relax and recover before making any big commitments.
My Savage 100 was an incredible experience, and I’m truly in awe that I got to be a part of it. It tested me in ways I’ve never experienced, and showed me that I’m capable of doing what I set my mind to. I couldn’t be happier.
As appears to be the custom for my races out of town, my friend Mike B. and I traveled together. However, unlike Badger, this was a guy’s weekend, as Lisa was staying home for a relaxing time on her own. I got up very early on Friday to get in a 2 mile shakeout run before cleaning up and waiting for Mike to show up in his minivan. I opt’d not to bring my trailer for this one, and just share a giant tent that Mike has. He also brought along a couple of cots so neither of us had to sleep on the ground.
We had a nice dinner at the Iron Bay restaurant, along with a couple drinks. However, we all realized that our wake up call was 3:45am, and we needed to hit the sack. Gratefully, the campground was mostly quiet that evening and I was able to get a fitful 5 hours of sleep. Too soon though it was time to get up and start getting ready.
Starting a race in the dark (5:30am) gives you the advantage of seeing the sun rise. This is an incredible mental boost when running, and getting to experience it in the first ten miles of the race really makes the time fly. Those miles before the sunrise feel like a different race, contributing a small bit of mental trickery to help you cope with the notion of being on course for many, many hours.
The race course is divided into a 10 mile loop to the south, that everyone starts on. Then you return to the start/finish area and head out on a 20 mile loop to the north. The 50 milers come back to start/finish a second time and head out on a second 20 mile loop, but this time they do it the opposite direction. I really liked having the clear demarcation between the first 10 and then the 20. It created a nice breaking point where I could adjust strategy and approach the second 2/3 of the race with a different view.
In fact, that had been my plan all along. I would go out strong on the first 10 miles, and then just hike the 20 as a tourist. I figured that would be all that my legs would be good for. Despite being the easier section, I wasn’t able to run quite as hard as I wanted to on the first 10, due to a couple of very technical sections that required slowing down. This was complicated by some bottlenecks of people who were still bunched up. None of the climbs in this first 10 miles were that bad, but there were enough sections of rocks and roots that I wasn’t able to go flat out. I managed to finish the first 10 in under 3 hours, and was feeling really good. I was well on track for a potential 10 hour finish.
I crested the peak of Sugarloaf (along with a boatload of tourists) and was treated to what would become my absolute favorite view of the race. The view from on top of this mountain is spectacular. You’re near the shoreline, and so on one side you have the expanse of Lake Superior. On the other side is the rolling hills of the U.P. I spent a bit too much time up here taking photos, and savoring the view, but soon enough I knew I had to start the decent down.
The path down the other side wasn’t nearly as nice as the stairs going up, but it wasn’t terrible. I also knew that after Sugarloaf I would be treated to 5-6 miles of relatively flat terrain along Lake Superior. I was starting to physically tire, so despite being on very runnable terrain, I had a tough time actually moving quickly. Instead I enjoyed the beautiful scenery, and at one point I headed down to the shore and dipped my hat in the water. The water was still cool enough that it was incredibly refreshing on my head.
It was in this area that I started to realize that I might need to poop. I didn’t remember seeing a bathroom at the last aid station, and I started to worry that none of the aid stations had porta-potties. I hadn’t packed any toilet paper, and even if I had, the area I was in seemed like a very developed park. I didn’t want to risk getting caught by day use visitors with my pants down off the side of the trail. After a couple of miles I spotted my salvation. A parking lot was about 100 yards off to my left, and there was a vault toilet there. I ran over and as I approached the door a lady jumped out of her car and ran to the door of the bathroom and started knocking, and telling her young daughter to hurry up, because a runner needed to use the toilet!
I headed out on the next section and came on the second “peak” of the four. Called Bareback, this mountain was mostly a long slow climb up granite boulders, with little to mark the trail except for some ribbons hanging from trees. On more than one occasion I had to take a moment and look around hard, to see where I was supposed to go. It was on this peak that I pulled out my poles. Yet, by the time I got to the top I decided that they weren’t actually helping, and that they were slowing me down. So, I put them away and never used them the rest of the race. Another interesting lesson learned.
Despite the ominous name, this climb was absolutely most enjoyable of the entire race. It was a LONG climb to the top, but the trail was nicely buffed out and there was nothing technical about the ascent. These are the kinds of climbs that I can really rock, and before I knew it I was on… top of the world. Because of all the intersecting paths, there was a timing mat on top of the mountain. I crossed over it, took a couple of photos of the amazing view, and started the, equally, buffed out descent.
The final section to the ascent goes from a marked path, to a sheer granite rock scramble. The next thing I knew I was on my hands and knees, trying to find anything I could grab on to, to get me to the top. It felt like it took forever, and the entire way my mood soured. By the time I got to the top, I didn’t even care that the view was the most spectacular of the entire course. I didn’t care that I could see forever, and that I only had 2.5 miles to go. Hogsback had broken me.
I headed to the finish aid station and grabbed some food before joining a bunch of the other Minnesota folks who were reminiscing about the day. We all hung around for a while before I decided to head out and wipe down before changing clothes. I knew I had quite a few hours before Mike would finish so I took the opportunity to hit a local brewery in town, Blackrocks.
I ordered up a flight of beer, and as I started sampling, my friends Carrie and Rob came in. We all got a table together and started chatting about the day. Greg, Jake, and another guy who’s name escapes me, joined us, and before long we had filled one of their picnic tables with runners. At one point in the evening I checked the live tracking and realized that Mike would be finishing soon, so it was time to head back.
I grabbed the camp chairs from the van and went to watch Mike finish. Greg went to get pizza with Heather, so it would be ready at the campground when he was done. Soon enough Mike came across the line, beaten up, but successful. Some of his first words to me were, “Never let me do this again.” Marquette 50 Mile is a beast, but Mike finally had redemption on his DNF from many years ago.
The next morning we packed up, and then all met up at Cafe Bodega for breakfast. I thought I was hungry for biscuits and gravy, but really, I should have just gotten the eggs and bacon. Soon enough though it was time to leave, and we began the journey home. Google routed us around some storms, and before we knew it, we were on I-94 into the Twin Cities. All in all, a nice easy ending to an amazing weekend.
Even though my race didn’t start until 12:15, I showed up nice and early to hear my wife sing the national anthem and watch the craziness happening on the other other two fields. The entire event was an awesome, baseball themed party, complete with a 7th inning stretch where everyone had to stop for hot dogs. They gave out baseballs as the medal, and everyone got a commemorative baseball card for participating. The event garnered a bunch of attention that even a local news show came out to put together a feature on it.
I started counting them down, and when I hit 10 I breathed a sigh of release. After 192 laps I crossed the lap counter and was told I was done. My watch only registered 12 miles, but I didn’t care. I hobbled over to the main aid station and grabbed another beer to chug in celebration. My wife arrived and kindly brought me some dry shoes to put on. Shortly after, the entire event wrapped up and we all headed home.
However, I decided to just stick with her as long as I could and see how it went. She’s been training incredibly hard this summer, and has been working with a coach. This brought our abilities a little bit closer together, so it wasn’t a huge surprise that she was doing as good as she was. We launched into a nice jog and distracted each other with some conversation.
One of the things that bugs me about the Surf course is that it’s laid out so that three loops equals a 50 mile race. However, 25K times 3 does not equal 50 miles. That means that the Surf 25K and 50K are actually very long for the distance that they’re advertising. Each loop is about 1.2 miles longer than it’s supposed to be (16.7 vs 15.5). I’m a trail runner. I totally get that our distances are kinda squishy and that a 50K might be 29 miles, or maybe 32, but where Surf rubs it in is that they actually post a 16 mile sign on the course! That sign is a big slap in the face to remind you that YOU’RE STILL NOT DONE.
By this point I was actually feeling pretty good and I knew that Lisa was hitting her typical wall around mile 12. I also knew that she wanted to get a 4 hour finish so I started adjusting my thinking into pacer mode. As we turned onto the loop I started belting out a corny rendition of Home on the Rage with some truly amazing twang. Lisa joined in and we had a brief few moments of silliness before putting out heads down and getting it done. Our only interruption was when Mark M. suck up behind us and scared the shit out of us when he said ‘Hi’.
A few weeks ago, my friend Mike and I went out for a 22 mile run around Elm Creek, and at the end of the run I felt great. That afternoon I decided to take one of the few remaining spots in the Chippewa 50K. I knew that if I was feeling that strong after 22 mile, I could tackle 9 more. Despite this confidence, I found myself approaching race day with anxiety and dread. For some reason, I was irrationally nervous about this race, and I couldn’t figure out why. Even my friend Matt told me that I looked like s*%! at the start line, completely wrapped up in some mental struggle.
Once the “entertainment” was out of the way I noticed very quickly that the Ice Age trail is really well maintained and built. This particular section of trail is amazingly runnable, with clear paths and only small rolling hills. You pass by beautiful lakes and prairies, which distracts you from the fact that you’re involved in a long footrace. I managed to lock in a solid pace, that in retrospect was faster than I should have gone, but felt completely comfortable on this terrain.
I was beaten, in pain, and depressed. But then, as I crossed the finish (8:08:41), there was Wendi and Matt. They were cheering and congratulating me as they handed me my award print. I went over to the grass and laid down as my wife got me some food. Everyone around me smiled at me and told me how great a job I had done, and within moments, it was all OK. I stripped off my muddy shoes, drank a warm beer (that tasted like perfection) that Erik gave me, and savored the moment.