Essentially, I traded one obsession for another this summer. Pie baking, and blogging about baking pies, became more and more of a tedious obligation as the summer went along, and other priorities took precedence. One of those was running my first ultramarathon at the Superior Hiking Trail Fall 50-mile. I feel confident in claiming that I was the only runner there whose blog is about pie baking and not running. Anyway, I took a sabbatical from pies while I put the finishing touches on my race preparation. What follows is my account of that race which I sent out to some interested parties.
Having had a few days to reflect on my first ultramarathon experience, here is my race report, such as it is (and was).
My last run pre-race was a week out. I did a nice, slow 7 miles on some single track near my house. That went just fine, but within a couple of hours of finishing my lower back started tightening up. I have some occasional back trouble, but seldom anything very significant. This, however, turned out to be quite significant. By mid-afternoon, if I sat or laid down for more than about 15 minutes I had a really hard time straightening back up again. I would shuffle around like an 80-year-old man and struggle to stand upright. This continued for all of Saturday and Sunday, getting a little bit better on Monday (Labor Day), but no continued improvement on Tuesday. So, I spent some time with the chiropractor during the week and crossed my fingers. By then end of the week (Friday morning) I was still experiencing some soreness and a little stiffness, but I thought I at least felt good enough to go to the starting line and see what happened. Nothing like adding yet another reason to be really nervous before the longest run of your life.
I had asked one of my best friends, Jay, to help me out during the race by meeting me at aid stations to replenish my food supply, fill water bottles, and listen to me whine. He was kind enough to accept, so by mid-day on Friday we were on the road, headed to Lutsen, MN, where we would spend the night before driving back to Finland for the start at 6:00am on Saturday morning. By and large the ride up was uneventful. The highlight for me was probably watching Jay eat a Double Louie Burger at the Lake View Restaurant in Barnum. 2/3 lb. of hamburger, two kinds of cheese, bacon, and an onion ring. A real heart-stopper! I, on the other hand, had to be content with a plate of spaghetti. Believe me, there were not many carb-loading options on the menu.
The pre-race briefing at 7:00 on Friday night was largely uneventful. We hung out and got some additional information about the course, a few tidbits of advice, and talked to a few other runners who sat at the same table with us. The main thing that I remember noting was that everyone I saw seemed like they were 6 inches shorter and 40 lbs. lighter than me. I'm sure it wasn't actually that drastic, but I am not the most inconspicuous of runners. I also remember thinking to myself that I was just going to be happy to be back at that spot in 24 hours, hopefully having finished my first 50 (they label it a 50, but finishers are only to eager to clarify that it's actually 52.1). I can vouch to never having thought about the extra 2.1 during the run, but it does add something now that it is over.
Race day
I slept fine, was up a few times, but that was mostly to relieve myself since I was working hard to be well hydrated at the start. We woke up officially at 4:00am, planning to follow the bus (leaving at 5:00) out to the start area. About all that I remember of that first hour was doing an inordinate amount of talking. I hope I was not too annoying to Jay. Of course, he'll never say one way or the other. The nervous energy had definitely piled up and I think all of the babbling was a manifestation of my nerves.
The ride to the start was supposed to take about 30-35 minutes, but after leaving a few minutes late, we followed the bus for close to 50. I still needed to check in, fill water bottles, and get my headlamp situation squared away. Obviously, I had not fully comprehended the low-key nature of these kinds of races. The bus arrived later than planned? No big deal, we'll just start the race later. I do not think that anyone had to rush in any way to the start line. I actually had a few minutes to take some deep breaths before we got under way. I am really glad, because that meant I had time to find and talk to my running buddy Scott, who was running too (and who I claim talked me into doing this in the first place -- not really true, I am not that hard to convince), and I also saw Dave and LeAnn who had camped out and were nice enough to show up to wish me luck. As it turned out, they did way more than that and were at every aid station along the way. I can not possibly thank them enough for the support.
Finally, the mass of humanity that is the 74 starters of the Superior Hiking Trail 50-mile, 2009 edition, slowly make there way out of the parking lot in Finland and onto the road, where the race director counts us down... 5...4...3...2... Ok, not really. All he said was, "Ok, go." Again, low key.
Off we went, at a nice slow shuffle. I ended up somewhere in the back quarter of the pack along with Scott and a bunch of other runners, some of whom were there because they were nervous about the distance, terrain, etc. and some because they were well aware of what was in front of them and they knew what they were doing. After about a 1/4 mile of road running, we turned onto some single track trail under the light of the just-rising sun. Many people had their headlamps on, but since we were so close together and it was starting to get light out, I never touched mine. I don't think it made any discernible difference at that point.
Aid stations
There are some sections of the race that are really a blur to me, but I'll try to at least relay some of what I was thinking during the parts that I do remember. Mainly I remember moments and brief experiences, but in some parts I recall an overall feel for the difficulty of the section or some defining characteristic. Here is what I recall:
Finland -> Sonju - 7.5 miles (0-7.5)
I recall three main things from this section.
- We were all in a single file line on the trail, which is not really wide enough to pass on without someone stepping aside. So, for the most part, the position you go in at is the position that you come out at as well. Runners were very good about accommodating if you asked to go by, but I really did not feel comfortable asking. For one, I had no idea how my back was going to respond. If I was going to have a total meltdown 10 miles in, I would have felt like a complete idiot if I had spent most of that time telling people to get out of my way only to drop and have them all go streaming past an hour later. Since I was pretty excited, I also wanted to use the terrain and other runners to force me to slow down. By getting myself into a pack where it was hard to pass I thought I could throttle some of my enthusiasm and slow down the pace. In the end, that was a good strategy, but there was one big problem with it...
- I claim that there are two categories of runners (I am sure there are many others, but I can only comprehend the simplest concepts). There are those who view it as a social activity and those who do it as a solitary activity. I am definitely in the latter camp. I do nearly all of my training alone and that time is always some of the most revitalizing time of any day for me. Unfortunately, the group I was in for this section included a number of runners whom I would put in the social category. Over time, runners who talk while they run tend to get on my nerves. This is especially true of runners who talk loudly while they run. I was on the trail with a few of these on the trail Saturday morning. I have no doubt that runners like me who don't talk could be just as irritating to those who enjoy having a conversation while they run. But, from my perspective, five miles was about all I could take. Scott and I had a good laugh this week when re-hashing the race. He told me that he remembers thinking to himself that "if they keep talking so loud, he (that's me) is going to bolt for sure!" He could not have been more right. I practically sprinted through the aid station at Sonju to get back out onto the trail where I could get some alone time. As it turned out, that turned into nearly 12 hours of alone time.
- The other item of note in this section was that the humidity and temperature caused my glasses to fog up repeatedly. I am not completely blind without glasses, but it is a challenge to see and with the roots and rocks that are everywhere on this trail, it added another obstacle to surmount. Thankfully, this only lasted for the first half hour or so of the section and did not turn out to be a recurring problem.
Sonju -> Crosby-Manitou - 4.2 miles (7.5-11.7)
I was eating almost constantly thought these early sections. Since your body does not store enough carbohydrate for a run of this length, you have to eat and/or drink to replenish what you burn. The basic rule of thumb is that a 150 lb. person can absorb 300 calories per hour while running. Since I am quite a bit heavier than that, I burn more and I was hoping I could eat more as well. For these early sections, that was true. I was able to stick to right around 400 calories per hour for the first 20 or so miles, and kept at around 300 for a while after that.
I don't remember a whole lot about this part of the run other than the last half mile or so. It is the only stretch that is run on a road from the time we enter the woods in Finland until we empty out of the woods in Lutsen with around a mile to go. I was still moving pretty well when I got here, but did some hiking while finishing off what was left of the food that I had brought with me from the start. I stuck to what I brought with throughout the race. It went pretty well, but I can't say that I was too fired up to eat any of these things for a few days afterwards. My diet: Welch's fruit snacks, Honey packs, and Clif Shot Blocks. It does not cover much of the food pyramid, but they are all things that I had practiced with and that I digest well; stomach issues are common in races of this duration, so that is very important. Some consume drinks that have carbohydrates in them, but that has never worked very well for me. I stuck with water. Most (all?) ultra runners also take something to replace electrolytes. I was taking S!Caps for that purpose. My plan was one per hour, although I started taking them more often later on. In retrospect, I probably could have taken them even more often. c'est la vie!
This was also the first aid station that runner's crews had access to, so I got to see Jay, Dave, and LeAnn. Jay was completely on top of things here and got me through the aid station really quickly. I soon was checking out and working my way down the trail on what is generally regarded as one of the tougher legs of both the 50-mile and 100-mile races.
Crosby-Manitou -> Sugarloaf Road - 9.4 miles (11.7-21.1)
Scott and I had purposely run/hiked this section in the spring so that we would have some idea what to expect. I have to admit that I did not really remember the first few miles, but it all came roaring back to me when we crossed a bridge a few miles in and started a series of steep, long ascents. Along the way here, I hooked up with two young guys from central Illinois and we ran together for I would guess 5 or 6 miles. We talked a little bit, but mostly just kept each other company by our physical presence together on the trail. By this time it was starting to get pretty warm, especially for that part of the state at this time of year. It had been muggy from the beginning, and I was starting to feel the effects already.
When we tried this section out in the spring we both agreed that it was extremely difficult and definitely a section to worry about. I don't disagree with that now, but after a summer of conditioning, it was not really all that bad. On the other hand, I can not imagine tackling it at mile 60 in the middle of the night when many of the 100-mile racers had to. It was tough enough when we did it.
Right around when we crossed the Caribou River, things flatten out some and I was able to run again instead of just fast hiking. Towards the end of the section I got passed by a few other runners, who I would leapfrog with for the next few hours. All in all, I came into the Sugarloaf Road aid station feeling pretty good. There were a lot of runners in this station working on recovering from the section they had just completed, and I think, rehydrating due to the heat and humidity. I should have spent a little bit more time there and taken in some additional fluids, but I did not and was soon on my way.
Sugarloaf Road -> Cramer Road - 5.6 miles (21.1-26.7)
This entire section was largely uneventful except for a couple of noteworthy fellow runners, a change in the weather, and the quote of the day.
First the runners. I was about a mile or so in when a couple of young (mid-20s) guys came running along behind me. They were talking to each other a little bit and seemed to be working together. Up to that point, I had been doing about 3/4 running and 1/4 walking in this section, so they definitely seemed to be moving faster than I was. Just after I stepped off the trail for a few steps to allow them to go by I heard one of them say that he thought he had about 10 more good miles or running in him. Then he planned to gut it out to the final aid station and walk it in if he had too. My legs were definitely starting to feel the effects of the terrain and heat and so I estimated that 10 more good miles sounded pretty good for me too. So, I started shuffling along with them. It turned out that we ran at a similar pace and if I just forced myself to hang with it, I kept up with them pretty well. If they had not happened along, that section would undoubtedly have been much slower for me, so thanks to them!
The last 20+ minutes of this section saw a pretty significant turn in the weather. We got rained on pretty hard, which actually did not feel too bad. The trail got pretty greasy in spots and there were some big puddles to soak your shoes, but overall it was not too bad. The only downside was that once again, my glasses came into play. I pulled down the brim of my hat to try to shield my glasses, which apparently cranked up the temperature and fogged my glasses up. So, the last quarter mile before the aid station I spent squinting my eyes trying to see the flags leading me on. By the time I got to the station it had largely stopped raining and after a quick cleaning, putting on a dry shirt, and ditching my hat, I was off once again -- as usual thanks largely to my near-professional crew.
Oh yes, the quote... The young guys came into this aid station a minute or so before me, but I left much quicker. On my way out, I heard them talking to each other and one summed up my thoughts. "This isn't the dumbest thing I've ever done, but it's in the top 3." My sentiments exactly.
Cramer Road -> Temperance River - 7.1 miles (26.7-33.8)
I was still feeling reasonably good as I started this section. I definitely knew that I was approaching a time where I would be much closer to splitting running and walking evenly, and I did not really know what to expect from the terrain, so I just started out at a slow jog. I do not think that I encountered a single other runner for about the first 4 miles of this section. I was pretty focused and thought long and hard about what the right strategy was to get to the finish. I considered really throttling back and trying to keep a good combination of running and walking through to the end. But, instead, I decided that I would continue to try to run as much as possible, for as long as I could and then live with whatever consequences there were in the last 18 miles or so. As I look back, I think that was the right decision. I was going to be doing a lot of walking in the last few sections in any case (the last and 3rd to last are very hilly), so it would not have made sense to conserve.
A long stretch of this section follows along the Cross River, which was quite fun and offered a nice change of scenery and sounds, although huge tree roots and rocks came along with it. Not the most runnable, at least not for me. I actually caught several other runners in the last few miles of this section and eventually got blown away by the same two young guys I ran with earlier (at least one of whom ended up over an hour in front of me!). The last mile or so of this section was a long, steep, and seemingly straight down hill descent to the aid station that absolutely fried my quads. Until that point I was definitely feeling the fatigue of what we were doing, but that last stretch really took the life out of my legs. They would eventually recover to an extent, but I would not run very well for any length of time again. Believe me, I could not have been the only one because I did not get passed by very many others after this point even though I walked the majority.
I did spend some extra time at this aid station, just working on recovering as best that I could. In the end though, I knew I was not going to completely recover and the only way to get to the finish is to plow forward, one step at a time, so off I went. I am pretty sure that I told Jay that I would be walking the majority of the next section to try to get my legs back together. As it turned out, I am sure that I walked over half of it, but a large portion was due to the elevation changes and terrain and not as much because of my legs. My legs actually recovered well enough to run/walk fairly well. If I had it to do over again, I think I would have to have a better strategy for that downhill. I am not sure what that would be, but perhaps just bombing down it and letting momentum carry you rather than braking with your quads is the way to go. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, but then there is not much at mile 33 of 52 that isn't such a recipe.
Temperance River -> Britton Peak - 5.7 miles (33.8-39.5)
Looking back, this entire section seems like it was one long assault on Carlton Peak. Whenever I have seen or heard runners enumerate the most difficult sections in the race, they never mention this one, but I truly do not know why. I found it to be really difficult. There is a pretty steep and reasonably long climb up Carlton and there are parts that are simply bouldering, you really could not run at all, no matter how good you feel. Two things, though, stand out for me here. It was in this section, while climbing the last bits of Carlton Peak that my legs really cramped for the first time. I was climbing with another runner when I almost fell over when trying to step up a rock. My calves were really fighting me and I even had to stop for a minute to sort things out. I do not think that they ever actually improved. I just learned to alter my gait and climbing style enough to get by. I am sad to say that I really did not consider here that I probably should have been pounding down electrolytes at the next aid station and also making sure to fully rehydrate. After one break about 8 miles in, I did not urinate at all for the rest of the day. That is a pretty good sign that I had really fallen over into dehydration and I think that the strong cramping was a good indicator that a more experienced ultra-marathoner would have recognized easily and worked to correct. Me? Plow forward, one step at a time. My mantra.
Right near the end of this section I happened upon two runners who it turned out were a 100-miler and a friend who was pacing them. One of them was in pretty rough shape and was limping very noticeably. Right around that time we got a few sprinkles of rain and the pacer said, "We asked for rain and an aid station. We got the rain." I found that pretty humorous and could not have agreed more. I'm not sure the guy limping along found it to be quite so funny. I know they sought out some help once we got to the station, but I do not know if they ended up finishing or not.
Britton Peak was the aid station that I volunteered at least year, so it was nice to see a familiar area, even if mainly it just reminded me of the distance still to go. This was the first section where I really did not do a very good job of eating. I have no idea how much I gave back to Jay, but it was quite a bit. He did a great job of reminding me of the importance of continuing to take the electrolytes even if I could not choke down the food. I even took an S!Cap in the aid station and almost immediately asked him if I had taken it yet or not. I was definitely a little fuzzy at that point, but knew that the next five plus miles were not terribly difficult and hoped that I could get in some extra water and do some recovering. So, after a few minutes with an ice-filled towel on my neck -- I'm telling you, the guy thinks of everything! -- I was off once again.
Britton Peak -> Oberg Mountain - 5.5 miles (39.5-45.0)
This was probably the least interesting section of the entire race for me. I really was not in any condition to do significant running (I'm sure I ran less than a mile total) and there just were not any real distinguishing characteristics of this section for me. I did manage to get a little bit obsessive, for maybe the first time in the race, about my time. Once I got this far, I was calculating that if things went reasonably well I may be able to get all the way to the finish without having to crank up my headlamp and slog up and over the last few hills/mountains in the dark.
By the time I got to the Oberg parking lot, I thought I was still on pace to sneak all the way through before it got dark, so I refilled water, made Jay load me up with electrolytes, switched shirts one last time, and sprinted on my way. Ok, in this case sprinted was more of a slow walk, but in my head...
Oberg Mountain -> Lutsen (Caribou Highlands) - 7.1 miles (45.0-52.1)
The rule is that if you arrive at Oberg prior to the last cutoff it does not matter how long the final 7.1 miles takes you. If you make it to the finish line, you're official. So, it was a good feeling to know that unless something absolutely crazy happened, I was going to finish.
This spring when I had run this section solo, I had made a navigational mistake early on and added almost two additional miles of climbing to the route. Needless to say, I did not want a repeat performance. Thankfully, the trail was well marked for the race. Whew!
Of all of the sections, this is the one that I am most familiar with (2 previous runs, better than nothing), and I actually think that helped. It allowed me to put some milestones along the way in my head and break the entire section up a little bit. I did run into a surprising number of other runners in this section, although only one of them was actually running. I passed several (4?) 100-milers in the section along with a couple of 50-milers. I also got blown away by one 50-mile runner who was still running. I, on the other hand, could not have run more than a mile or two total prior to the finishing stretch once you come off of the trail onto the road to the finish. Still, it is not like I was getting passed by a sea of other runners, so I could not have been the only one. I had some reasonably severe cramping on a couple of the climbs (especially on Moose Mountain) and worried for a little while that I would not be able to do it, but I kept pressing on and eventually my legs complied -- complied here is a relative term, it's not like I was feeling great.
Roughly a mile from the finish, you can hear the Poplar River shortly before you cross it and head out of the woods to the finish. Believe me, that was a sound for sore ears. I made a deal with myself in the last few miles that I did not even have to try to run anymore until I got to the road and then I had to run all the way to the finish. It was not the most elegant of runs, but I held up my end and shuffled/ran that last stretch to the finish. I have to admit that hearing so many of the runners who had already finished the other races as well as the 50-mile cheering as I ran the final 100 yards sounded pretty great. I finished with a flourish by tripped on my very last step across the finish line and almost taking out the volunteer taking numbers. Thankfully, I kept my feet, but I doubt anyone would have used the word graceful when describing my performance. The clock is running for all three races, so it does not necessarily tell you your time, but the minutes were :35, so I knew I had finished in 13 hours, 35 minutes. As it turns out, at least in the preliminary results that have been posted, they pulled off the eight minutes that we started late, so my unofficial official time is 13:27. 24th of 54 finishers and 74 starters. I'll take it.
At the finish
If you have read this far, you must be related to me. I'll try to keep the rest of this brief because enough is enough already.
After the finish I just wanted to lay down, so I did. Unfortunately I started cramping so bad that I really could not get back up. I am so glad that I did not fall down in the last section (or even one of the two before that) because I am not sure how I would have gotten back up by myself. Does LifeAlert work from Moose Mountain?
I hung around the finish area for probably an hour or so, got a chance to talk some more with Jay, Dave and LeAnn, as well as with Scott and his family. He had a great time and cannot wait to do it again. As for me... this was my first and only. Who knows for certain what the future holds, but I definitely do not have any interest in doing it again at tis point.
Finally, if anyone ever needs a crew for a trail ultramarathon, I know just the person. Jay was unbelievable all day long and made the aid stations so easy for me. I couldn't possibly thank him enough. As well, it was so great to see Dave and LeAnn at every single aid stop. It definitely made it a lot easier to keep going having people I knew around. It is appreciated more than they know, I am sure.
That's it. A piece of cake. Let me know if you want me to crew for you next year in the 50... or the 100.
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