2014 Kettle 100 Race Report

On the weekend of Kettle, I died a few deaths.  I lost a bit of sanity (but got it back, I think).  I did not finish strong.  I did not run with good strategy.  I did not care about my time.  But I finished the Kettle 100 mile endurance race.  After failing to accomplish this goal in 2013, vindication is sweet.

364 days is a long time to live with a failure around my neck.  My last attempt at the Kettle 100 ended in me feeling mentally broken and quitting at mile 63.  I learned a lot in that race and applied it to the 2014 attempt.  I also now understood, mentally, how I needed to be prepared for the rigors to follow.   If you care to read about the 2013 attempt, check out the following links (Link1, Link2, Link3).  But that is now old history.  Here is my new story.

Primer

But before I start, I’d like to tell you a bit about the Kettle Moraine 100 Mile Endurance Run.  Feel free to skip this section if you know this kinda stuff.

This endurance run, in its 19^th edition, took place in early June, on the trails in the wonderful Southern Unit of the Kettle Moraine State Forest in Wisconsin, mostly on portions of the 1000-mile Ice Age Trail (IAT).  Those trails vary from steep and rocky to flat and runnable, forest canopied to open prairie, narrow single-track to wide grassy ski trails.  No mountains though.  Or glaciers (not anymore anyway, and the penguins have long skedaddled).

The race started at the Nordic Ski Trails in La Grange, WI.  We then headed west to the IAT, where we proceeded north to the Scuppernong trails near Dousman.  This first section was about 31 miles and made for a perfect first 50k.  We then turned around and headed back on these same trails returning to Nordic.  Then out from Nordic again, back out onto the IAT, but this time heading south to Rice Lake, returning to Nordic via the same route.  A double out-and-back.

The race was run by some fantastic and special people, with one of the best volunteer groups to be found in Midwest races.  Absolutely first-rate.

Pre-race

Living in the Twin Cities, it is sometimes difficult to make it down to my favorite running trails in the Wisconsin Kettle Moraine.  Therefore, I am very grateful that my parents live just miles from the forest and are always gracious and willing to host me for races.  My wife and crew Beth, and the 2 younger of our 4 children headed down bright and early Friday morning so we could be at packet pickup on-time and spend some extra time scoping out some of the course we missed last year (Bluff to Uruguay, er Rice Lake).

Packet pickup and check-in was quick and easy; a cool black shirt in a big green bag.  Following that, Beth and I took a drive through some beautiful Kettle Moraine terrain to find the Highway 12 station (easy) and the Rice Lake turnaround (not so easy).  We were glad we did because finding aid stations in the dark can be difficult for someone not familiar with the local roads.  Beth would absolutely hate it if she missed me at an aid station.

With the logistics complete, and a small meal in my tummy, our kids being spoiled by grandma and grandpa with popcorn, ice cream and a Godzilla movie, Beth and I were in bed by 8:30 with a bright-and-early 4:30 am alarm set;  which went off all too soon.  Everything, of course, was laid out the night before, so we got dressed, did some quick packing, and were out the door by 5:00.  Yawn.

The Lemon-drop of Power

There seemed to be about 400 or so people at the Nordic starting area getting ready to support or run either the 100k or 100 mile races.  It was a comfortable jumble of folks; some nervous, some extremely fit, and most both.  I love the starts of ultras, so low-key and good-natured.  Beth and I hung around the smiling crowd until the opening remarks, waiting for the starting gun to go off.  “Anyone who does not have their timing chip, please come to the table and retrieve it, we have several yet to be picked up”.  Whoops!  I gave Beth a last kiss, ran over to collect my timing chip, and then we were off.

And then we were off, Nordic (1), mile 0.0

Down the rabbit hole.  250ish 100-mile, and 100ish 100k runners fed through the starting gate funnel and into the first section of the race.  Because of the route design as a double out-and-back, the first seven miles of the race become pretty familiar because we will end up traversing it four times.  It is usually pretty painful by the last trip due to the endless and pointless ups-and-downs (PUDS), but the first time through was a breeze.  The temps were in the 60’s and I was feeling fine, cruising along in a crowd that lightened up after about 3 or 4 miles.  Tamarack is the first station we met, where my sister Laurie was volunteering.  I did stop to give her a hug, but then I was through and off to the Bluff station and onto the IAT.

At the Bluff aid station I met Beth for the first time.  I doffed some cool-weather clothes and slid on a light mesh shirt.  I took my first bottle of UCAN, 1/2-strength, and I was off.  Totally coherent and having fun.  It was a beautiful morning for a run.

At last year’s race, one of the things that brought me down was a broken upper body.  This year was to be different.  I did core exercises all through the winter, and I worked on keeping my upper body loose throughout the race.  Coming into Bluff, I stretched my arms and core.  No problems this race.

North onto the IAT, Bluff (1), mile 7.5

The wide open and hilly ski trails at Nordic then fed into a rocky, single-track ascent onto the IAT.  Now this is real running; fresh legs, gnarly trails, steady footfalls, and wonderful views.  After the first climb to the top of a bluff (with a fantastic vista), the trail took us into the woods, along the rugged remains of the last glacier.  We cruised up and down eskers and kettles, through sun-dappled woods.  This was a great part of the race (on the way out) and very much worth the price of admission.  I caught in with a train of like-minded runners and we just cruised easily through the forest hills.

Following an unmanned water-stop at Horseriders we were spit out of our forested womb, birthed into an ultra party that is the Emma Carlin aid station.  Woohoo!  Beth was here to get me some more UCAN, and to ice me up.  We knew what was coming, and heat preparation was key to surviving the next miles and hours.

Onto the prairie, Emma Carlin (1), mile 15.8

When it is cool out, this section of the IAT is one of my favorites.  Where else can you go to find prairie as far as your eye can see, wildflowers and native plants with nary an unnatural sound (except for airplanes of course).  But it was starting to get warm, and we were out in the open now.  The terrain, thankfully, was even and smooth, so these miles went easy.  So far so good!  But we would be seeing this section on the way back; when it would be warmer, and my legs would be more trashed.

After two more unmanned water-stops at Antique Lane and Wilton we were into the Highway 67 aid station.  This aid station marks the end of the prairie and back into the woods and hills.

Coming into Highway 67 Aid Station

Back into the woods and hills, Hwy 67 (1), mile 24.1

At this point of the race, I was still feeling fine.  I could feel the temps increasing and the humidity rising, but these were problems for the future.  The here and now was just fine.  This next section tended to be mostly tree-covered and hilly, with some technical footing thrown in, and some actual switchbacks.  Nice.

The highway ZZ aid station is thrown in the middle of this section, but I just cruised right through.  The last portion of this section wound through a campground and was pretty easy, so no problems here.  And before we knew it, the first 50k of the race was history.

At the Scuppernong 50k turnaround it was a quick bottle change (still UCAN) with Beth, and then back out onto the trails.  My legs were still is good shape, but I knew the heat would become a problem soon.  It was now well into the 80’s I think.  I was sweating pretty heavily.

After the second Hwy 67 aid station is where the fun started.  The prairies opened up to upper-80’s heat and very little tree cover.  Even with the ice and a good water dousing at the aid station, I was overheating and I knew it.  My smooth, even pace turned into a shuffle, while my mind started to lose focus.  I was in good enough condition to know that I was not in danger; I was still lucid and sweating.  Taking in calories was out of the question when it was this hot though.  I would just get nauseous; no water available for digestion.  Dang it was hot, but I knew relief was soon to come.

Relief, Emma Carlin (2), mile 47.4

I stumbled into Emma Carlin looking for Beth; I knew she would know what to do.  When we found each other, I sat on the ground and proceeded to try to get my respiration under control while Beth stuffed ice everywhere; down my back, in my hat, up my shorts (that brought me back to life).  I may have whined a bit at this point, but we’re not sure.  When on the ground, I looked up to see a woman staring at me in concern.  She was obviously waiting for her runner to come in, and if I was in this bad shape now, what would her runner look like?  I realized then how I looked, so I smiled at her, got up, slammed water and a bit of UCAN, I was gratefully back into the woods and nearing the halfway point.

Only, there was not much relief in the woods.  With the high temps came humidity, which did not go away with the tree cover.  In fact, all the trees did was block any breeze that tried to cool us off.  This meant more slow going.  My spirits were OK though, at least I was on my way back to the Nordic turnaround.  This section of trail saw my pace slow considerably due to the heat, but I was still in pretty good spirits.  I don’t remember much of the sun-dappled woods that I saw on the way out, at this point it was all about getting back to Nordic.

It was at this point, I think, where my mind slipped just a bit; where I started playing mental games with myself.  Kinda like Gollum.  “Should I quit at Nordic again this year?  Maybe 100k is my distance, and I’m just not a 100-miler.  No, I have to do better than last year, just turn around at Nordic and quit at the next aid station, then this year would be an improvement, and thus a success.  Right? There’s just no way I’m running 100 miles though, just ain't my day.  Beth is going to be pissed, I’ll have to work on my speech.”  Pulling into Bluff at mile 55.7, I told Beth nothing.  I was still not eating, but I was moving OK.  After getting re-iced, and a few whimpers, I was back on the trail returning to Nordic.

Actually, Beth tells me that, at this point,  I told her this would be my last attempt at this distance.  She just replied, "uhuh, right."

The 100k turnaround, Nordic (2), mile 63.2

My mental state coming into Nordic had degraded substantially.  I could not think a positive thought, even though I knew this was what I needed to be doing.  I just could not reference anything happy.  My patronus would have been pretty pathetic at this point.  Once at Nordic, I sat on the ground thinking I did not want to go further, but that shifted part of me knew I really would.  It was at this point where my psyche really seemed to split.  I didn’t really know it at the time, but I separated the wimpy part of me who wanted to quit from my pragmatic self; the part of me who knew I would continue; and one was keeping secrets from the other.  More on this bit of weirdness later.

Back on the ground, Beth re-iced me and forced water into my gullet.  My sister Laurie was telling me I needed to get up, and give me a banana or something.  Marty, a friend who started with an injury, with a planned DNF at the 50k mark, knelt down to my level, eye-to-eye (man-to-man), and told me “you know what you need to do, so get back up and moving on the trail again.”  Darn-it, the man card.  My pragmatic self knew he was right, so up I got and out I went.  Just for giggles I took an espresso gel with me to see if I could start taking in calories again.  I took my headlamp too, it was getting dark.  Plus, now it was raining and I was getting cold.

Back on the trail, cooling off in the rain, I started feeling better.  After the espresso gel, I felt 100-grams-of-caffiene better.  I wouldn’t call my state “good”, but at least I was serviceable.  I was moving.  Plus the temps were thankfully dropping.  By my return to Bluff, the rain had stopped, and I was actually considering taking one more leg before quitting.  I was curious what lay south of Bluff.  How bad could it be?

Heading South, Bluff (3), mile 70.7

I took on water and 2 gels at Bluff, plus a Red Bull, got a few “keep moving” words from Beth, and entered uncharted territory.  It was dark by now, and my headlamp was doing its best to illuminate the forested trail ahead.  Heading south on the IAT, the trail now took a big drop in elevation.  I kept eating and drinking, and dropping, until I reached a sort-of valley.  A very frog-infested-croaky valley.  The trail here was pretty flat and I actually started making good time.  My mind was still definitely split.  My wimpy side was planning on quitting at Highway 12, while my pragmatic self knew I would, at least, be going to Rice Lake.  It kept telling the wimp what it needed to hear.  Actually, Mr. Pragmatic, at this point, made a deal with the wimp.  If you finish this race, you will never be asked to do another.  Hmmm.  Sounds reasonable.  Let me think about that.

Mr. Pragmatic was lying.

Running in the dark, with my world boundaries the size of a headlamp beam, is some kind of awesome and surreal.  Hours of focusing only on the trail ahead.  It was Zen, or something very like that.  Steady pace and breathing, adjusting footfalls for the rocks and roots 5 feet ahead; nothing existed outside my headlamp beam.  Well, the frogs existed.  Lordy they’re loud at night.  Croaking and barking, they kept me company throughout this section.  My world slowly changed from one of light and bustling excitement, to darkness, rocks and root, and frogs.

The road crossings were lit by green glow sticks.  Very nice touch.  It was then, with a line of glow sticks, that I entered the Highway 12 aid station.  I handled the shocking transition between the Zen of the woods and headlamp, to the lights and sounds of the aid station, well; I was actually feeling pretty good.  Now I knew I would make it to Rice Lake (where I could quit with my head held high, maybe).  I did not tarry at the station, so after recharging my water bottle, and taking a couple of gels, I was back into the woods towards the Rice Lake turnaround.  I wanted me more of that Zen.

Well, having not run these sections before, the trail into Highway 12 was actually very nice.  I made great time and my pragmatic self actually started “knowing” that I would finish.  Ha!  I had no idea what lay ahead.  The nice smooth trail of the previous section was replaced with washouts, stairs, steep ascents and descents, rocks and roots.  In other words, technical “gnarly”.  Oh boy.  The steeps were relentless, and the downs were worse due to the rocky nasty nature of the washout hills.  If I fell on one of those descents, well, I think it would have hurt.  A lot.  I had yet to fall in the race, so I was due.

So I took it slow through this section.  I was eating and drinking well, but I would not consider myself moving very fast.  More power-hiking really.  All the nice smooth trail Zen was replaced with zombie running.  I would love to hammer this section of trail some day, but not today.  Not now.  By the time I rolled into Rice Lake, I was in a sour mood.  My pragmatic self was taking a logical beating from the wimp.  Plus, the trail crossed a narrow footbridge without railings over water prior to Rice Lake.  I did NOT want to fall in there.

The final turnaround, Rice Lake, mile 81.9

I don’t remember much from Rice Lake.  All my good feelings were gone by now.  Beth ministered to me with ice, gels and water.  I also took on some real food as well; pretzels and a sandwich I think.  And before the wimp could open his mouth, I was back out onto the trail, heading home.

I think Mr. Pragmatic had played a joke on me.  It knew that once I started heading back towards the finish, my mental state would improve a bit; I would start to believe.  This did not help my mental state through the last section of trail though.  This was going to suck.  And suck it did.  Up, down, tiptoe through the rocks and roots, all in the world of a headlamp beam.  And frogs, lots of frogs.  Wait, were there frogs on this section?  Maybe I hallucinated them.

I’m not sure how I dragged myself though this section.  I do know that, to maintain a bit of sanity, that I stepped away from myself a bit, and became a bit of an automaton.  I just kept moving, one foot in front of the lamp-lit other, to the next landmark.  Just make it to the next road crossing, water stop, aid station, whatever.  I knew my pragmatic self had already won, that I was going to finish, but my wimpy self still needed to be dealt with.  We still had a lot work remaining.

Once I pulled back into Highway 12 for the last time, I sat down and let Beth nurse me back to life.  I was more pissed than anything.  These stupid trails were slowing me down from getting this beast of a distance over with.  And I wanted to be done; just end this.  BTW, the cheese and salami sandwiches at Highway 12 were delicious.  I would never choose to eat such a thing in real life; but I was far from that.

After more water and real food, I was back out on the trail.  I knew this section would be easier, and it was.  I started moving like a runner again, though nothing anyone else would consider running.  At least I wasn’t power hiking.  It was still dark, but I knew the second sunrise would soon offer me an emotional pick-me-up (at least I read this happens).  All through this last section of the IAT, headlamps were still coming towards me.  Oh my.  These poor souls had yet to traverse the crap that now lay behind me.  They had hours to go.  Poor souls.  But really, they seemed stronger than I; they had a determination in their voices as we offered each other encouragement in passing.  Tough souls.  And before I knew it, the sky was starting to lighten, and I was off the IAT and into Bluff.

A note on staying up all night.  I took some caffeine to help keep me awake, but not that much.  I really didn’t ever feel like falling asleep; I felt as awake as when I started.  Weird.

As good as done, Bluff (4), mile 93.1

I knew I was as good as done in Bluff; with the race that is.  I just wanted to be done; to get this over.  At Bluff, I did not sit down, and I did not whine.  Beth filled me up with water and a gel, and I left post-haste, back to Nordic, just end this.

The last seven miles of this course are the home stretch, no doubt.  But they still hurt.  Those endless hills that seemed so simple in the beginning of this adventure were relentless now.  But they were nothing I couldn’t put behind me.  So after a nice stretch through Tamarack, where I high-fived my sis for the last time, I was running to the finish.  It hurt to run, but my pride would not allow for walking.  I passed a few folks through these pointless hills (the whole thing is pointless really, not just the hills, but anyway), each person hurting more than I was, I endured until the mile markers started to count down from…

Five, still a good distance to go, don’t start thinking about the finish yet.  Why is it taking soooo long for the next mile marker!  This is the distance I run with my friends in Stillwater every Saturday morning.  That’s a really long way!  Too long!  Until…

Four, ahhh, I’m making progress.  Will these hills ever end?  I think I missed the next mile marker.  It has been forever since the last, oh wait there, up ahead is…

Three.  I am actually going to finish this.  At this point, my pragmatic self re-merged with the wimp, and both knew this was in the bag.  I hurt.  Everything hurt.  And these hills were never ending.  But I was moving forward.  And these hills, did I mention these hills?  My slow movement made each mile just draaag.  But before I knew it, there was…

Two.  Two miles.  Holy cow, I thought I could hear the party at the end.  I heard people for sure, and traffic.  Keep running, just keep running.  I so wanted to walk, but now I had no excuse worth listening to.  And then the hills mercifully stopped.  Run, just run Forrest.  And enjoy this, no matter how much it hurt.  And at long last, there it was…

One.  One mile to go.  Where is this energy coming from?  Something my body was keeping in reserve I guess.  At this point the whole race started to flash past me.  The easy first miles, the dreadful heat that turned me into a drooling zombie, all the miles and miles of rocky hills seen through a headlamp.  All that brought me to this point: one mile remaining in a 100 mile race.  Actually, I passed 100 miles already, as the total distance in this race was 100.6.  Whatever.  Just run.

The finish line actually caught me by surprise.  I rounded a corner and there was the mat.  There was Beth waiting for me with a big smile on her face.  I actually wished that that last 100 yards would take longer, just so I could savor this moment.  But of course, like all appalling things, this race must come to an end.  I crossed the finish line in 25 hrs 52 min.

I finished, Nordic (4), mile 100.6

I finished.  Holy cow, I finished.  What an amazing feeling; elated and destroyed at the same time.  It was a good feeling.  Like I stated in the beginning, today I died a few deaths.  I lost a bit of sanity.  I did not finish strong.  I did not run with good strategy.  But I finished.  I imagined Nietzsche and Freud, kind of like Darth and Obe-wan at the end of Star Wars, smiling and nodding knowingly.  I did not know how I did it, but I think they knew.

Beth was waiting for an embrace, and then prevented me from crumbling.  My body, once it realized it was really done, went into shock a bit, I think.  After feeling a bit light-headed, I started shaking uncontrollably.  Forget food, I wanted a warm blanket and sleep.  And thankfully, that came soon after; after a nice elevator ride.  Elevators, what a nice invention.

The next day

Beth, God bless her, downed a Red Bull and a Coke, and safely drove us home Sunday afternoon.  My body is now showing signs of recovery.  I did sustain a sprained left ankle, or a strained left Achilles tendon; whatever.  I am getting better though.  I’ll be ready for Afton in 4 weeks.

Thank you to God for getting me to the point of being able to attempt something like this.  Thank you to my parents for their support, grandchildren spoilage, and offer of domicile.  My sister for her support along the route.  Marty, for saying the right words to keep me moving.  My friends and family back home following my progress via texts and offering their support.  The great volunteers at the aid stations, without whom, this race could not be run.  And, thank you Beth, without whom these pointless races would be just that, pointless.  Thanks for giving this some meaning.

Am I doing this again next year?  Heck yes!  It would be the pragmatic thing to do.

Results

251 hardy, optimistic folks singed up for the 100 mile race.  I'm not sure how many toed the starting line, but the website RunRace.net lists 111 finishers, of which I was 44.  Way to go, Kyle from TN (16:55) and Tracy from IN (19:16), the race winners.

The Running of the Llamas

4 months until Kettle!  I’m jussayin.

Also, check this out: trail running, European style.  It's called a Vertical-k.  That is elevation, not distance.  Pretty intense!

Are you all familiar with The Running of the Bulls in Pamplona Spain?  It is a very old and amazing event that could never be possible in our United States of Litigation.  It’s not really an endurance sport, as it only goes for about 1,000 yards.  But it is pretty extreme.  You’ve got to outrun 16 badass bulls at an average of about 15 mph; that’s a 4-min pace!  Take that Spartan Commando Warrior Dash!  Actually, the most famous version happens in Pamplona, other cities in Spain and Mexico hold similar events.

But I’m here to announce that I’ve discovered that we, here in America, have the next best thing!  I give you, The Running of the Llamas.  I knew of this event for a few years now, and on an early fall day last year I thought I’d take two of my kids to witness the spectacle.  The running happens every year in Hammond, WI, and it is as much fun as you want to make it.  Check it out on YouTube.

Knowing the run started at 1:00 pm, I thought I’d get to the event about 30 minutes early to get a good spot along the road.  I mean, who would go to the Running of the Llamas, right?  Wrong.  The place was packed with people.  At least a thousand.  Really!  Street vendors were selling anything from 4-oz bacon on a stick, to jewelry to Llama wool blankets.  It was quite the unexpected atmosphere.

I tried to get my kids as close to the street as possible, but the best we could do was 2-deep.  Oh well.

Next year I’m going early and staking out a good spot.  And I’m eating bacon for lunch that day.

Happy 2014

Happy 2014 everyone.  This is a mixing of mostly unrelated topics; I’m not very organized this time of the year.

St. Croix Valley Runners

We’re a group of runners who meet at Brown’s Creek parking lot every Saturday morning at 8:00 am for a gentle 5 mile run.  Rain or snow, hot or cold, someone always shows up.  Except that one time Dave had to run the route by himself.  Don’t expect a super fast pace, we run mainly for the social aspect.  And we’re on Facebook evidently.

5k Race Series

The New Richmond Centre hosts a 5k race series with one race per month October through April.  The cost is $20 for the whole series, so you can’t go wrong.  Plus, 50 or so runners show up, so the turnout isn’t bad either.  I’ve run the November and December races and find this series a great way to keep my fitness throughout the winter.   I wrote about the December race here, and I won the January race!  Yea Old Guys!

Lapham Peak Trail Runners

There is a group of trail runners that get together in the Southern Kettle Moraine called the Lapham Peak Trail Runners.  Great group of people; my sister is a member. I did get the opportunity to run with a few of them on 12/28, on the Funk Road segment of the Ice Age Trail.  The run was on snow-covered trails along the beautiful Oconomowoc River.  Thanks for taking me along guys!

Kettle 100

It is time for me to make another attempt at the 100 mile distance this spring at the Kettle 100.  My last attempt went very well, except for the fact that I did not finish (blog post).  My lessons learned will be put to good use:

1. Running 100 miles is nuts; I had no clue.  The mental aspect of racing this distance is one for which I was not prepared.  I will be doing a bit of visualization.
2. Beware the chair at mile 63.  I am doing a U-turn at the start-finish.
3. Running 100 miles on hill and trail was hard on my whole body.  My core and upper body weakness became very evident later in the race.  I’m starting core work now!
4. Screw the goal time, just finish my first 100 miler.  Well, I need to set a pace, so I will need a goal time for that, plus know I can do a 20 hr 100-miler.  So maybe I just need to be prepared to throw the schedule out the window and just finish the darned thing.

I am planning on the following races later this year:

• Afton 50k
• Superior 50 mile
• Surf the Murph 50 mile or Wild Duluth

I haven’t run Superior before; in fact this should be my first trip north of Duluth.  Should be fun!

New Richmond 5k Fun

Like many of you, I like to run.  While we do have our preferred distances, it doesn't matter if it is 100 miles or 1; we like to run.  Some of us are competitive in the longer stuff, while in the short/fast distances we'll strain a gluteus just to be a mid-packer.  But why then is it fun for long-distance runners to run fast? Until oxygen debt has us drooling and tripping over our own shoes?  5k's are grueling, but not for long.  I think short races are fun because they are short; we're barely warmed up and it's already time to have a Clif bar and a banana.  I had one of those races last weekend.

But this report is not about my 5k race, that would be boring.

Every year, the New Richmond Area Centre hosts a series of (7) 5k races throughout the winter, one a month from October to April.  The whole series costs $20.  It would be challenging to find a single race entry at that price, so I consider it the deal of the century; a no-brainer.  For that price you get a shirt, low-key race vibes, non-certified courses that tend to be a few k long, and more importantly, a reason to run throughout the winter.  Plus they start at 9:00 am.  I can still sleep in!

The November iteration was one I was not planning on attending.  It was too soon after my last 50-miler, and I was still in recovery mode.  And for $20, I can miss a few and still have a clean conscience.  I went though (what the heck), intending on a relaxing 5k tour of the New Richmond Industrial Park.

The start line for this race was in the Family Fresh parking lot, with the course an out-and-back on paved trail.  There were about 100 racers toeing the line that morning, with a great mix of moms and dads, kids, students, dogs, strollers, and a few runners.  Good weather too; at about 40°F, some of us were in shorts and tee's.

After a ready-set-go, we were off, high-tailing it up the trail.  After an initial sorting out, I found myself in the lead pack, consisting of a girl's high-school cross-county team, myself, and a 12 year-old boy in gym sneakers.  This report is about that boy.

He was TRUCKING, having a blast!  Prepubescent arms and legs flailing about just trying to stay with the 6:30 pace.  The contradiction between the smooth flowing stride of the girls with his discordant zombie sprint on Red Bull was joyously evident.  But what he lacked in style and efficiency, he more than made up with zeal.  He would inch into the lead, and then look around with a loopy grin that seemed to say, "I can run faster than these people.  Those are just girls and an old guy, and they're slow.  I'm going to win.  This is easy.  Mom said I was a good runner, and she was right!"  And, of course, the rest of us are cringing for the eventual blow-up.

But he kept this up for far longer that I expected.  After about a mile though, I could tell he was starting to flag.  The periodic forays into the lead had ended, and he was now working hard to maintain pace.  And his smile was unfortunately gone. Compared to the lead group's symphony of rhythmic footfalls and harmonious breathing, he was playing the roll of jazz trumpeter; off beat and blowing like a freight train.  It was a little sad to see, though not really unexpected. Talk about a school of hard knocks.

Eventually, his strain turned to panic.  He was now delving into some serious oxygen debt, and losing his battle with consciousness.  Each time he looked back to gauge the leaders' positions, I could see panic in his eyes.  They now seemed to say "What's happening? It wasn't supposed to be this way?  Why is this so hard?  I can't breathe!  Man these girls are fast!"

And then he was gone, like a parachutist into the slipstream, he just disappeared.  Bummer, I was rooting for him.  It was like the lead group just lost its mascot.  I think he learned some valuable lessons though, like "running is hard", and "racing is harder".  What heart!

I did see our 12 year-old runner at the finish line.  He eventually did cross the line, and he did not look too good.  But his smile was back.  Maybe he'll be back too.  I hope so.  I admire youth with an adventurous, "go for it" spirit.  He'll have the rest of his life to learn to strategize and moderate.

I crossed the line in second place.  I did drop the girls past the half-way point, though some high school boy loped past me just short of the finish line.  Inches from an old-guy win!

Maybe in Decemebrrr.  And I'll be looking for my 12-year-old friend; I've got to meet him, and maybe chat on him a bit.

Mary's 2013 Autumn Leaves 50k Race Report

Mary recently ran the Autumn Leaves 50k at Champoeg State Park in Oregon.
Here is her race report.

My cousin Amy, who some of you met (the woman with the green cast, who had breakfast with us at the Oasis ) has been wanting me to do a race in the Pacific NW for at least 4 years. When she lived in Seattle I looked at some races there, but they looked a bit too challenging for me and the timing never seemed right.

Then she moved to Portland. She joined the Oregon Road Runners Club and this summer she suggested the Autumn Leaves Run, which is put on by the club. She had volunteered last year and thought it was a race I would like. The website made it look appealing, so I registered. The race takes place in the Willamette Valley at a State Park which is the location where Oregon became a territory of the US. It is located about 30 miles south of Portland on the way to Salem, the capital.

I flew to Portland on Thursday to get "acclimated" to the rainy humid weather! It's been so dry here in Tucson that it actually felt good. I intended to watch Amy's son in a district cross country meet, but just missed his heat. Was fun to be part of the event though. It was supposed to be sunny all weekend so I didn't even consider an umbrella or other rain gear when I packed. On Friday it started getting overcast and the weather forecast for Sat. which had been sunny and low 70's now turned into 42 degrees at the start and a high of low 50's. Fortunately I had taken an assortment of clothes.

The Race Start Pavilion at Champoeg State Park in Oregon

There were two distances for the event, a 50 miler which started at 6:00 AM and the 50k which started at 7:00 AM. When we got to the park it was pitch dark and I then understood why they said headlamps were essential.(It's light in Tucson by 6:15 so I sort of thought I could get by without.) There was a festive atmosphere at the start since the 50 milers had started already. Some runners were coming in from doing their first loop before we started. The race director reviewed the course briefly and we were off. I hadn't thought about strategy (I'm not like Dave) for this event and was already about two miles into the race when I realized that this was a very runnable course and not your usual trail ultra where the hills automatically allow some walk breaks. So I reverted back to my marathon strategy of walking about 30 sec. every 10 minutes.

The race consisted of 5 loops. Each loop was a 10k and there was a 1.2 mile section which was single track trail. There was basically one aid station which you passed by on the way out and  back. It was fairly strategically placed, but I could have carried a water bottle. The bike path started on a very flat path which passed through a meadow area for about a mile. The trail then entered a more forested area along the Willamette river and became just slightly rolling with a small hill as you came to the 3.1-mile turn around point. The out and back course allowed for seeing all the participants many times. It was interesting to watch how the look on their faces or their gait changed as they became more fatigued. I was lapped by the lead woman several times. She was doing the 50 miler and ran a blistering pace. Her name is Pam Smith and she was the woman winner of Western States this year.

The cool weather made for excellent running conditions, but it was hard to figure out what to wear. I started with two layers and capris. After the first loop I took off the long sleeved shirt and grabbed my arm sleeves. After the second loop I was chilled and grabbed my wind breaker jacket. Amazingly I wore the jacket for the next 3 laps and was never too warm.

Since this course was relatively easy to run it was more of a psychological challenge to complete the same 5 loops. I was quite relieved after the 1st loop when I suddenly realized I only had 4 loops left instead of 5. It just took me one loop to wake up!  By the third loop I decided I needed to be distracted and put on my I-pod. This worked amazingly well and the 4th loop flew by. When I finished this loop I thought for sure that I would be able to run under 6 hours and 30 minutes. ( I was really planning to slow down this last lap since I had already run almost a marathon ). Well, my cousin Amy had asked if she could run the last lap since she needed to do a 10k that day for her training program. So she joined me with her heart rate monitor on and we got going. I was amazed that I could still run with minimal breaks. She really pushed me and in the end I ran the 5th loop at the same pace as the second loop. My time was 5:52. I was very surprised to see that I had run under 6 hours.

Mary and Amy at the Start/Finish Area

Since it was a very low key event, we gathered my gear, ate the post race meal, thanked the race director and his wife and went home. A couple days later I checked the results and was pleasantly surprised to see that out of 68 finishers I was 34th and I was the second oldest runner in the race. There was one man who was 68 and he finished behind me. This would not be an event for those who like bands at every aid station and lots of fancy swag, but there was chipped timing, a certified course and friendly people helping at the race and running it. What more could a person want?

2013 Surf the Murph 50M Race Report

What a way to end the racing season!  Good friends, perfect weather, hills and 50 miles of beautiful trail.  I went into this race with some distinct personal goals, and I came out wondering how far and how fast I can take this running thing.  In the end, it was a real eye opener for me.

But first-things-first – Surf the Murph is a series of three races set in the 2,800 acre Murphy Hanrehan Reserve in Savage, MN.  A single loop of the park nets a little less than 17 miles, so we get races at a long 25k, a long 50k and 51 miles depending on the number of loops you feel like suffering though.  The terrain varies from dirt road to technical singletrack with about 2,000 of elevation change for each loop.

A few things someone interested in running this event should know:

• Most all of the hills are encountered in the first 5 miles of the loop; they are a bit relentless, but each no more than 300 ft or so.
• The event is pretty low key; no laser light shows or paid MC’s.  Costumes are encouraged!
• Don’t zone out if you are not familiar with the course.  There are so many intersecting trails, that losing track of the flags will get you off-course in a jiffy.  Pay attention at this one.
• If you like fall scenery, you’re in for a treat.
• What other race do you get announced at an aid station with a horn?!

Race Goals – As I stated before, I had a few goals for this race.  Last year was a pretty good run for me: a 9:30 goal while actually crossing the line in 9:12 and 11^th place overall, while losing 10 minutes on an off-course jaunt.  This year, I felt that an 8:45 finish should help me crack the top-10, so I planned my pace to match, with no unintended off-course excursions this time.

Race Morning – The alarm went off Saturday morning at 4:30 am, so my wife and I could be at the park for the 6:00 am start.  I am so glad that we pack everything the night before; I am pretty worthless for the first 30 minutes each morning (commuters you have been warned).  The weather was a wonderfully clear 43°F with some light winds.  This would be a good start compared to last year’s 22°F start.  Plus, those giant klieg lights in the start/finish area?; they put out an enormous amount of radiant heat.  And I forgot my sunscreen.

For clothing, well, I was afraid of getting too chilled at the start, so I wore two layers, with a plan to remove the outer as I warmed up: technical tee, shorts and arm sleeves underneath, with a sweatshirt and running pants over top.  Add a pair of gloves and a Gore-tex beanie, and I was set.

At the Start

Packet pickup and the pre-start went very quick; the StM team is pretty efficient.  The race shirt was the same as in the previous years (long-sleeve technical with a turtleneck collar), though lime green this time.  A note to the RD: your pre-race pep talk was hard to hear.  Maybe get in the middle of the crowd or get a bullhorn?  No big deal though, we knew the drill.  We all chatted and milled around the start area, waiting for the clock to wind down.  Typical pre-race nervousness.

Loop 1

And then we were off.  After a resounding “runners ready”, we were off down the bunny trail; about 100 bobbing headlamps leaving the well-lit start area.    Into the void.  I started near the front with the intention of staying within the top 10 for the entire race.  I just love the start of races, the opening miles feeling effortless, though always a bit unnerving to think of the 50 miles yet to be run.  Easy running though, keeping the pace under control, and conversations going with those around me.  Until the hills start that is.  After about a half mile the terrain shifted from flat and easy to (pointless) 100-300 ft ups and downs, some kinda steep.  I just kept the heart rate under control and tried to Zen through.  I knew that any over-expenditure here would be paid back three-fold on the later laps; not fun.  I was getting warm though; the extra layers would need to come off soon.

Aid station 1 was located in the hills here, but after only 3 miles, most of us just ran right through.  I had taken no calories prior to the race, and did not intend to do so until much later, letting my fat-burning furnace kick into “sizzling”.  I just had my waist-pack water bottle, which would not need a refill until much later due to the cool temps.

A little different this year, I ignored the standard operating procedure of walking the steep hills, running most of them.  I thought it foolish to train so hard in the hills prior to the race, only to walk them during a race.

After about 5 miles, the hills mercifully stopped, and the trail spit out into the horse camp aid station.  It was here that I met my wife and crew, Beth.  We traded water bottles and I lost the sweat shirt and pants.  After some words of encouragement (I think it was, “well, what are you waiting for?”) I headed out onto some flat land trails, with my headlamp still on my forehead.  The sun was just starting to lighten the horizon by now.

The terrain between the horse camp aid stations is fairly flat and even, so it was time to kick up the pace a bit.  I joined with a group of guys, and the eventual women’s winner, and we kept between an 8:00 and 8:30 pace.  Aid station 3 came and went, and then there were only three of us.

Between Aid 3 and 4 is Smurph village, a couple miles of deer trail that wind through the forest.  Running your own pace can be difficult through this section in a conga line, so I sped up a bit to hit this section first.  This proved well for me as I run well on this type of terrain.  I gapped the other two in this section while I wound my way amongst the Smurph signs; off her meds indeed.

Into Aid 4, I met Beth again, and it was here that I took my first calories of the day.  I traded my water bottle with one filled with UCAN.  This liquid/food/starch stuff seems to provide a steady drip of carbs without tripping my insulin response, resulting in no central fatigue/no bonk.  This stuff works for me.  Unlike a gel, it takes a while before it truly kicks in.

The section between Aid 4 and the finish is a bit hilly, but nothing like the start.  There is one hill (Pikes Peak) that I walked.  Last year I remember a log that needed to be hurdled on the steepest portion of this climb; not so this year.  I think it had decomposed enough that it no longer posed an obstacle.

And then I was into the start/finish for the completion of my first lap.  I had planned on a 2:50 lap, and was just a bit concerned when I saw 2:30.  That’s a lot of time off my goal pace and it left me wondering if I would have to pay the piper for going out too fast.  Beth told me not to even think about it.  I removed my arm sleeves, replaced my beanie with a ball cap and sun glasses, and I was off again.  Feeling strong.

Loop 1:  Goal: 2:50,  Actual: 2:38

Loop 2

I ran out of the start/finish area feeling pretty good about that time, and had decided that if I could finish the second loop under 3 hours, I would gun for an 8 hr finish.  Ha!  I was already writing my victory speech.  I've done that before, and you can guess the end result in those races.  Ah hubris.

Typical Fall Murphy Hanrehan View

The initial hills felt fine on the second loop, and I was still feeling strong.  The quick first loop made me a bit worried about an overdrawn energy account, so I slowed it up a bit.  Just a bit.  I ended up running this section with two guys, Yellow Hat and The Red Rider.  It is tough to run with someone through hills as we all needed to pace ourselves individually.  We all stayed within viewing range, with a little bit of chitchat, but that too can be tough in the hills.

One feature of lap 2 that I remembered from last year was the addition of new trail signs.  Billboards had been erected at a few tricky locations between loops.  Hmmm, some folks must have been taking off-course excursions this morning.  Easy to do.  Gotta pay attention.  I should know.

With a swap of UCAN bottles with Beth, I left Yellow Hat and The Red Rider behind at Aid-2.  For the remainder of loop 2 I worked hard at keeping my pace under control, saving something for the last loop.  I was nearing the midpoint of the race, and from here on in I would not be passed by another 50 miler.  The first three 50k racer came through.  Eric Sensemen was well ahead of the other two and looking very strong.  He ended up setting the 50k CR that day at 4:04.  Smokin’, Eric!  I also started to come upon the back end of the 50k race.  It was nice to have some company on the trails; it can get a bit lonely out there.

As the second loop was drawing to a close, I was still feeling great.  Weird.  I now felt I might be in the position to try for something remarkable on the third loop.  The fatigue I am so familiar with late in races just wasn’t there.  It was at that point that I started to fear going off course, as I have done in my two previous runnings of this race.  I’ hatedthe thought of running so well and then getting lost.  I would search hard for the next trail marker, and feel a sense of relief when I saw one just around a bend.  A few seconds after passing a marker, I would start to doubt my navigation, and would stress until the next trail marker.  Sometimes I just need to learn to relax a bit.  Funny.

Loop 2:  Goal: 3:00,  Actual: 2:42  (Race time: 5:20)

Loop 3

I decided to hammer the last lap; as hard as I could push.  It is not often that I think I can achieve something remarkable while running (my use of the word “remarkable” is relative of course; I by no means consider myself really fast).  But an 8 hr Surf the Murph 50 mile would have been something, and I probably wouldn't get many chances at something like this.  Think strong thoughts!

The initial 5 miles of hills on the last lap went something like this: “I won’t have to do this hill again.  Or that hill, and so on…)  It was like this that I found myself pretty spent but smiling, coming out into the Horse Camp aid station.  That hurt; but it “hurt so good” as John Mellencamp says.

With the keto-adapted, fat-burning diet I have been adhering to the previous year, central fatigue/bonking is a thing of the past.  It is a strange thing to feel discomfort to that level, and to be so completely mentally sound.  But as I get used to that feeling, I learn that I can push my body much harder than my mind lets on.  And push I did, and my body did not fail me.  Almost.

At about mile 40 my left calf started to cramp.  I did not feel this cramp was due to fueling, hydration or electrolytes; I was managing these pretty well.  I think it came from pushing my muscles too hard and for too long, plain and simple.  I started praying for relief.  I did not want to come this far and work this hard only to be brought down by cramping.  If I kept my left foot flexed forward and minimized the push-off, I found that the cramp would diminish and become manageable.  It sure slowed me down, but not too much.

I concentrated on getting down every stretch of trail as fast as possible.  I have never run this hard this late in a 50 mile race.  It is a strange thing to have so much fun while experiencing so much discomfort.  I used each mile marker to remind myself of each manageable distance yet to come.  14 miles, 13 miles, 12 miles…

I’d like to diverge a bit for a moment.  I do not care for the term “pain” when describing what I feel when running hard.  That term gives that feeling too much power.  I feel pain when I break a leg or pull an Achilles tendon.  Pain makes me stop.  “Discomfort” now, that is something I can work through; I am tough enough to deal with that.  I was feeling a great deal of discomfort.

Hammering the remaining miles
(Bryan Cochran Photography)

At the last aid station I ditched the waist pack and pounded home, my cramping calf setting as my speed limiter.  I was passing many 50k racers and second-loop 50-milers at this point, and I concentrated on reaching and passing each one.  That helped take my mind off of the distance remaining.  And before long, I heard the cheering at the finish and I knew I was as good as done.  I was really enjoying this!

Loop 3:  Goal: 3:00,  Actual: 2:51  (Race time: 8:11)

Wow, what a great feeling to have finished so strong.  I had run an almost complete race (except for the slow second loop and the cramping on the third).  And holy cow did the runners get fast when compared to last year!  In the 2012 event I ran 9:12 for 11^th place.  This year I took an hour off of that time and ran… an 11^th place?  The front runners were smokin’ this year!  Michael Borst ran a 50M course record 6:46, way to go Michael!

Note: Final results put me in 8th place.

It is a strange feeling to run so hard that I start to cramp up, and enjoy the sensation of pushing myself to my limits!  I think that now I better understand my limits and how best to prepare and push past them next season; nothing some specific training can’t overcome.  Next year will be exciting for me!  Steve Quick stated that he would be gunning for the M50 win next year at Afton.  That got me thinking about what I really could accomplish there.  I think a 4:30 is certainly within my reach.  We’ll see!  It is always dangerous to put such lofty goals in print.

At the End with my Jujyfruits Shirt
(thanks Bobby!)

I’d like to finish this blog post on a spiritual note, as this run was certainly a spiritual experience for me.  God gave me this gift of running, and I am grateful.  What gift can I return that is better than utilizing His gifts in the best ways possible; using His gifts to the fullest.  I ran this race as a gift to God, working through my great discomfort for His glory, not mine.  I could have been disappointed for falling short of an 8 hr finish time, or missing the top-10… again.  But that would be making it about me.  Thank you God for the gift of running, I hope you liked my gift to you.

Thank you Beth, as always, for sharing this experience with me, and making my food/hydration/aid stations so easy for me.  Thanks to the volunteers; the aid stations seem to be better each year I run this race.

And now I can eat Fritos and have a hamburger, on a real bun.  With French fries!  Time to relax, get a little fat, and enjoy the holidays.  The Kettle 100 is not too far off!

My Ice Age Trail Adventure

On Monday, September 2^nd (Labor Day 2013), my wife and I headed north to the Ice Age trail (IAT) in Wisconsin to run a pre-planned 40 mile section of forest, fen and prairie.  The section from Leach Lake Road to our newest park, Straight Lake State Park, was brand new to both of us.  The plan was: I would run and Beth would crew.

As a preamble to this report, I had been in a pretty miserable mood prior to the run; kind of depressed.  The French have the word ennui, pronounced “ahn-wee”, that I like to use because it makes me smile.  Sounds like a treatise on urination; “Ennui; Draining the Sleepy Weasel”.  Anyway, we just saw my oldest daughter off to college, and that, along with not running as much as I’d like, and family financial issues, had me in a major funk by the time this run started.  And the weather Monday morning mirrored my mood.  Real gloomy, Eye-ore type conditions.

At the trailhead (Washburn County)

After the 5:00 am alarm, we gathered our gear and drove north about 1.5 hrs to the trailhead just north of Cumberland, WI.  The temperature was cool (perfect for running) at about 50°F, and the sky was overcast when we found the trail entrance off of Leach Lake Road.  It was not too tough to find, though most non-state roads up here tend to be of the gravel variety, so the going was slow.

Though it was a chilly 50°F, I knew I would get warm quickly once the legs started moving.  I wore a technical long-sleeve shirt, compression shorts, a Gore-tex beanie and some cheap gloves.  I carried water in a single 20-oz bottle on a waist pack, with the section map in a pocket to be traded at each new segment.  This proved to be about just right.

As we stood there in the misty morning, looking at the scant opening in the woods marking the trail entrance, we spotted an otter trundling down the road, inchworm style.  We looked into the forest again, and then with a shout of “epic/awesome!”, I went through the looking glass.

Through the looking glass: Timberland Hills Ski Trails (miles 0-5, Burnett County)

I was immediately engulfed in dense woods.  The trees were mostly deciduous, closely spaced, and with very little undergrowth.  In fact, last year’s leaf litter still blanketed the ground.  I was left to find my way without much of a trail to go by.  The IAT is marked by a series of yellow blazes; rectangular marks on trees along the trail.  I was left to go from tree blaze to tree blaze until a trail finally showed itself.  Without the blazes I would have needed a bloodhound.  This would have been tough later in the fall.

Following my auspicious start, the IAT eventually joined with the Timberland Hills XC Ski Trails; a hilly segment through marshland and some light woods.  I went from a barely visible scratch in the earth to a grassy superhighway.  It was a fantastic change as the trails now were easily discernible and the footing firm.  After about 5 minutes though, I missed the dense woods and the singletrack.  I could have driven my car down these paths, with enough room for oncoming traffic.  Also, there were many trails crisscrossing the IAT; keep looking for those blazes!

Along one portion of this trail, the undergrowth was about waist-high, blocking sight of my feet.  The footing was pretty even here so I was not concerned while I kept up my pace.  Unknown to me, a family of turkeys was traveling the trail just ahead of me, under the undergrowth.  Once they heard me coming in was major panic time.  Wattles and snoods gobbling everywhere as about 10 turkeys flew into the trees, crap soaring in every direction like chaff from fighter planes.  Funny.  Their crap missed me.

Near the end of this section, Beth met me at the Boyd Lane trailhead with a change of water bottle.  I drank very little during this portion, and really didn’t need the water.  We did this mostly for safety in case we missed each other at a later trailhead.  And then I was off, feeling (just a little) better.

The superhighway continues: Still more ski trails (miles 5-10, Barron County)

After crossing the county line, the ski trails became wider and even better managed.  I think 2 lanes of traffic, each way, could have managed through this section.  Plus, these were lighted trails, with overhead lamps on poles lining the path.  Not really the ambiance I was looking for, and not the IAT character I was expecting.  Thankfully, this section did not last long.

A fantastic section of snowshoe trails broke from this forest superhighway, and I was again immersed in glorious wooded singletrack.  Snowshoe trails tend to be great running trails (without the snow), and this section was no exception.  This is what I came for, and I enjoyed every bit of it.  The path wound over hills and into valleys, along small lakes and through marshland.  It was still cloudy and in the 50’s, but I was starting to have fun as I warmed up.  I could feel my malaise (another funny sounding word, reminding me of a sandwich spread) lifting a bit more.

In no time I saw Beth again for our second meet at County Line Road.  We traded water bottles again.  I think I drank maybe 6 ounces at most all day; I still didn’t need much water.  Then, after leaving the trailhead, I had about a quarter-mile jog down County Line Road, and back into the green tunnel.

Things start to get interesting: Sand Creek Segment (miles 10-15, Barron and Polk Counties)

To paraphrase Bane, Batman’s recent nemesis, “Oh, you think undergrowth is your ally. But you merely adopted the briars; I was born in it, molded by it.”  Oh the undergrowth; a thousand tiny claws tearing at my body as I wound through the charnel way.  The trails entering the Sand Creek Segment of the Burnett and Polk County Forests were highlighted by marsh and fen, with knee to waist-high undergrowth hiding the trail; undergrowth with teeth!  The briars continually tore into my legs, cut my socks and pulled on the fabric of my shirt.

Needless to say, I was having less fun.  At one point, the undergrowth hid a significant rise in the trail.  I fell for the first time at this point, though it was not a major spill.  I fell forward to a pushup position and merely pushed myself from supine to upright and kept motoring.

I’d prefer not to dwell on this section, though I was getting concerned that the trail conditions may never improve.  I can say that once I got out of the marshland the trail became legible singletrack once more, and I bounded out of the woods to meet Beth once again at the County E trailhead.

After the traditional water bottle trade, it was time to search for the trail on the opposite side of E.  It just wasn’t there.  Where did they put it?  The old trail ended, and no new trail began; just a wall of corn.  The map showed the trail crossing the road directly at the trailhead, with no jog down the road.  Our first navigational challenge.  After a journey into the cornfield, and a search up and down the road, we eventually found the opposite trailhead a quarter mile north.  Stupid map.  Whatever; I was off again.

The charnel house continues: Sand Creek Segment (miles 15-20, Polk County)

I was feeling very comfortable running by now.  My legs were full warmed and I was moving at my planned 10-minute clip.  Any faster would have been disaster.  The briars and undergrowth remained, but the footing became more technical.  Hidden roots and hillocks crisscrossed the trail, with numerous creek crossings over shaky log and stick “bridges”.  At one point I ducked my head to avoid some overhanging branches, only to get beaned by the unseen next branch; and then the next.  That hurt, but it was kind of funny in a 3 Stooges sort of way.  I hadn’t lost my sense of humor.  Yet.

By now my legs were getting pretty scratched up, and I was covered with those seeds that have hooks and quills designed to adhere to your clothes.  I came out of that forest looking like Sasquatch, days after getting kicked out of the cave by the missus.

The weather was still cold and gloomy, yet my attitude was perking up; I was having fun.  Though it could have been funner.  And it was time to see Beth again.  At the van I took off my shoes and socks to empty them of the detritus I picked up over the previous 20 miles.  A blister would ruin any fun I was having for sure.  I drank about half my water bottle on the last section, and it was time to take on a few calories.  I grabbed a Hammer Apple-Cinnamon gel (one of my least favorite gel flavors), took a new bottle, and was off into the longest section of the day.

The start of Awesome: McKenzie Creek Segment (miles 20-27)

The end of the briars was evident as I plunged back into the green tunnel.  Glorious forest singletrack!  And it was here that some hills started.  Before the adventure, I had planned on running all of the hills, while maintaining an easy 10-minute pace.  Some of these hills challenged that plan; not with their heights, but with their grades.  These were some steep climbs and descents!  For the first time that day my legs were complaining.  But that was easily overshadowed by the most gorgeous section of trail yet that day.  The path cut through and over ridges, above the Clam and McKenzie creeks; sometimes way above.   It was here that the sun came out, dappling the hillsides and warming the air just a bit.  From reading a plaque along the trail, these creeks were recently revitalized for the trout population, making them Class 1 (self-sustaining) trout streams.  More than once I heard a loud splash, though no culprit could be seen.

It was here that I fell the second time.  My legs were getting pretty trashed from the ups and down, and my metabolism was still mainly carb-burning.  I think a bonk was coming.  It was then that a root reached up from the trail and grabbed my toe sending me face-first into the dirt and rocks.  All action just ceased; the footfall tempo abruptly halted.  I stood up slowly to assess the damage and found two bloody but otherwise unhurt legs.  And I was off again, albeit a bit sorer from the fall.

To take my mind off of my sore legs, I began thinking about food.  My mind always seems to dwell on food later in runs.  I developed a yearning for a PB&J sandwich in the worst way.  On Wonderbread, with strawberry preserves and chunky peanut butter.  Then my mind wandered off to work.  In less than 24 hour’s time I would be sitting at my desk in St. Paul doing who knows what.  Surreal.  OK the thinking thing was not going well, back to the forest and trail.

As the sun was finally out, and the hills were keeping the legs working, I felt myself warming up a bit.  I then found the next trailhead at McKenzie Lake and I was out of the green tunnel and met Beth waiting for me wondering what took me so long.  Yeah, that section went slow.  I traded the long sleeve shirt with a shorter version, the beanie with my ball cap, and lost the gloves.  I took another gel (Montana Huckleberry this time, one of my faves) and swapped bottles and set off into the next segment.

Into the Open: Pine Lake Segment (mile 27 to 34)

Finding the next trailhead meant about a mile of road trotting before cutting into some private hay fields.  It felt great to be warmed by the sun, as the cool breeze kept me from over-heating.  The trail meandered a bit before it came out onto another road, with its continuation to be found directly across and into a freshly mown field; obviously private property.  For respect’s sake the trail skirted the outer edge of the field.  It was pretty uneven and tough to run through, with the trail indistinguishable among the mown grass.  I kept expecting the trail to plunge back into the forest at each turn, but it continued around the field perimeter along all four sides, returning the same road as before.  The trail finally dove back into the forest about 20 yards west of where exited.  What was the !@#$ point of that?  Most of the IAT to that point was laid out in a logical manner; up to that point.

Anyway.  It was now time to run through some sunny pasture and along some corn fields.  Unlike the crops near the Twin Cities, the fields around here looked great; lines of tall green sentinels with multiple ears on each plant.  The trail obviously wound along and through private land here.  At one point the trail ran directly between two camper trailers, around the lawn chairs circling a camp fire.  The campsite was vacant, though if the campers were at hand that might have been awkward.  Weird.

About here my legs fully recovered from the previous hills and I had transitioned to mainly fat burning, reducing the chance for that bonk.  My legs felt great again.  A portion of this segment ran along the Straight River; very scenic, though the footing was pretty technical with sections covered in the roots of trees reaching for a river slurpee.  I had yet to have much smooth trail on this adventure, so I was looking forward to the groomed state park paths to come.

After a nice climb away from the river and a slight jaunt along Highway 48, I met Beth yet again.  Time to get ready for the last portion of the IAT that day.

And back into the woods: Straight Lake State Park Segment (miles 34 to 40)

At one of the North Face 50-mile races along this very trail (though 200 miles to the south), I sipped some Mountain Dew late on the course.  I had been running for about 7 hours and the soda was like a jolt to the system; an IV straight to the furnace.  So of course, I wondered what a Red Bull might do?

At the trailhead, I downed 12 oz of Red Bull in 3 gulps (hmmm, I could feel it working already), took my last gel, swapped water bottles for the last time, and set off into the woods once again.  Here the trail wound past a gate with a “Do Not Enter: Private Property” sign (really?), past 3 quaint cabins overlooking the Straight River, across the driveway and lawn of the last cabin and onto the trail again.

Also, I had a plan for this last bit.  Throughout the run my melancholy (another funny name, like the part of a musical arrangement that makes you sad) had been lifting.  By this time it was gone and I was feeling great while drowning in endorphins.  I felt it was time to demonstrate my manhood to my wife.  Enough of this measly 10-minute mile stuff.  Beth was going to show up at the opposite end of the park only to find me waiting for her with a satisfied smirk on my face (and one of those glinty things on my teeth).  She would bask in my studliness as I described throwing down a 6.5-minute pace for the last 6 miles.  Our grandchildren would be raised hearing this story.  They would raise a pint at the pub in my honor.

I took off down that trail on fire, reveling in the smooth surface and relatively flat terrain.  A caffeine-fueled rush of trees, rocks, roots and Red Bull.  What I hadn’t factored in was, that running fast on trail meant keeping my eyes peeled on that same trail, not in the trees where the yellow blazes were painted.  Any look up may have ended in a major tumble

I went down the first errant path right off.  A quick glance up told me I was way off as the trail was about to end at the river.  No problem, a blast back found the trail again after about 200 feet.  I could still do this.  Until I went down the next wrong path.  This one cost me maybe 5 minutes of backtracking before I found the IAT again.  After slowing for some very tricky terrain along the Straight River, I felt my quest was in grave danger.  After the third wrong turn, I knew it was.  So I gave up the quest and just had fun running fast.  Our grandchildren would have to do without.

The singletrack became perfect at the state park entrance sign though.  Now it was easier to keep the blazes in sight as I sped my way to the end of this adventure.  The trails here were very hilly with some steep sections and sharp switch-backs.  No matter, I was Red Bull-powered!  

My legs were pretty beat but I did not let up on the throttle one bit; I was having too much fun.

The last scenic section along this route led along the shores of Straight Lake.  There were a few people along these trails, but without camp sites, the population of humans was pretty sparse for a state park.  The sun was getting a bit lower in the sky as well, but its warming rays were as strong as ever, shining off the water surface and glinting off each ripple and wave.  The lake was fairly large, with absolutely no man-made structures to be seen.  Beautiful, and rare.  I could see the value of saving this park for the people.  And with that I exited the woods right on time for my planned 10-minute pace.  So much for Mr. Studly.  Oh well, what a day!

What a day: Adventure Postscript

Up to this day I had never contemplated running my own race like this, where pace didn’t matter much and I could take as long as I wanted at each aid station.  Though I did miss the competition and camaraderie, I did not miss the entry fee and long drive.  I entered full of ennui, and left inspired to tackle life once again.  The gray weather of my mood lifted, now filled with sunlit possibilities, from the fasted initial 20 miles to the Red Bull-fueled frenzy at the end.

Though I probably could have filled a pack full of water and gels and done this on my own, there was something special in sharing the day with Beth like this.  What a great spouse to give up her day so I could gallivant through the woods, chasing turkeys and bloodying my legs!  Thanks.

I am planning on doing this again someday; maybe along the North Shore of Lake Superior, maybe along another segment of the IAT.  Probably more than 40 miles next time.  Who knows.  What possibilities.