Superior 100 Race Report | 2012

Over the course of two sunrises & sunsets my life was changed. I am humbled. Jubilant. And still 2 weeks later...somewhat dazed. There are numerous sections of the race that I can't for the life of me remember and others whose details I will never forget.

Here is what I can/wish to recount of the amazing journey...

37hours: 30minutes: 12seconds | 41,000ft of Elevation Change | 103.3 Miles

Standing at the pre-race meeting race director John Storkamp jokingly plunks away at a piano. The dreary single key tune drones out in what can only be described as a death march. This, he tells us, is what the race may become to some of you, that is, if you're "one of the lucky ones". He goes on to explain/encourage/warn us...In the past we have had between a 50% and 60% finishers rate... Reflective XXXs mark cliffs, be careful.... We'll do everything we can to help you be successful, but don't be stupid or hate the reeper should he have to end your race early...Good luck! All healthy doses of reality met with laughter and a general understanding of what we're facing come morning.

At dinner my awesome crew (hubby &  his parents),pacer (ultra buddy Rick) and I talk race strategy. Stay as little time as possible at the aid stations, beware of the chair, put one foot in front of the other until they cross the finish line, hopefully within the time constraints.

I toss, I turn, I try to think about everything else but starting a 100miler in the morning. At some point I fall asleep and wake 15minutes before my alarm goes off. My pre-race nerves now at the surface are met with a God-sent calm. I give my Beloved a kiss before boarding the bus to the starting line...I won't see him or any of my crew until I'm 20miles in.

On the bus I manage to eat all of my breakfast without much trouble, I trade words with Ray the well accomplished ultrarunner seated beside me. I confess to him that this is my first 100. He reminds me to start slow & slow down, something Rick had already urged. I take note. As the sun begins to rise over Lake Superior, my eyes close and I somehow snag some Z's before arriving at Gooseberry State Park.

Rick graciously meets me at the starting line. We go over a few more race logistics. His words, encouragement & pacing advice help me to focus. I am at peace. I am ready.

The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but victory rests with the Lord. -Proverbs 21:31

We're off... and from that moment on I no longer think of the 103.3 miles ahead of me. Just one aid station at a time until there are no more left or I have nothing left.

The morning sunlight sets the hills & changing leaves aglow. I settle into what I feel is a smart pace near the back of the pack being mindful to keep my heart rate as low as possible. The terrain is like candy to me, but if I eat it too soon or too quickly it will only bring trouble.

Mile 9.7 - Split Rock aid station comes & goes. I decide then that even though my hydration pack can typically last me 20miles I will refill it at every AS. Part of my early race strategy is to keep my pace in check by hydrating when I want to be hauling and snapping pictures. Eye candy.

Being conversational is a solid method to keep tabs on your exertion level and I am blessed to be paced with a handful of well humored & talkative ultra loving crazies. Over the course of the race these wonderful crazies would become my comrades.

After scanning the woods for a few miles I find a lady approved place to wee, I leave the pack and trek off into the sticks. My shorts hit my ankles then I hear shouts of "hey, you're going the wrong way!". As I glance back thru the woods expecting to see other racers I see a several people carrying flags and it dawns on me, I am dead last. These are race volunteers clearing the route. Start slow & slow down...Check?

 

A little concerned & not about to be last after the first aid station I allow myself to run in order to catch up with everyone else. I inform them of my DFL status and the flag bearers swiftly behind us, they are as shocked as I am, but we quickly get over it and onto the ruggedness...

We make our way toward the Beaver Bay aid station and the superior hiking trail starts to display some of her jagged ways. Every toe stubbing root or rock, every hill climb, erased by beauty.

Reaching Beaver Bay I am met by the smiling faces of my loved ones. It's invigorating. We stumble thru trying to refill my pack with water and fuel efficiently, but by next aid station that is already fixed. This is the joy of having a crew full of analytical thinkers, fixers.

Leaving BB Tony is leading the pack. He is more full of life at 65 than most people I know half his age. As the terrain becomes more technical he shares with me what he loves about ultra running. The sounds. Up until this point I had been running music-free, but not really listening. After his comment the symphony of the trail comes alive and so do I.

The roots underfoot lift up the soil making a hollow and as our feet fall upon it, it sounds like orchestrated taps on a bongo drum. The slivers of rock that have broken off of cliff walls, while horrid footing (especially for a minimalist) enchant us. They sound like seashell or bamboo chimes blowing in the wind. The breeze fills the trees and the forest has breath. With each note I know my Creator lives and I can feel Him there.

A few aid stations tick by, my crew finds a rhythm and each time the pack is refilled (added weight) I focus on keeping good form. So far so good. All of my training to get here is the perfect fit and smiling comes easy. I continue to eat before I'm hungry, drink before I'm thirsty & while this has me feeling somewhat full, I'm on track.

Between miles 24-30 the wind begins to build, the air temp starts to drop and I hear thunder off in the distance. It's tough to get a feel for the wind direction in the woods. I am reminded "give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." -1 Thessalonians 5:18 The rain may come, I have no control over it, but the only thing that matters right now is making it  to the next aid station. I keep charging on.

 

The torrent wind makes tornadoes out of the dusty soil on the bluffs. It's obnoxious. Then I catch up with Shelly just as the skies open pelting us with cold rain. She is a graceful runner, easy to follow and the time passes quickly. We're both able to laugh off the North Shore's unpredictable weather before the skies clear again.

Next up the Tettagouche aid station. Steve Q. had mentioned to me that he'd be volunteering there and that I'd see him right after The Drainpipe. I didn't know what he meant by drainpipe, but I knew where Tettagouche was.

Now I know...

Fiercely pitched, worn dirt patches now slicked by rain with the sporadic gnarly boulder or log protruding thru the surface in feeble hopes of keeping you from toppling over on your way down. It, along with many other areas along the SHT was  ridiculous. Logic tells you this shouldn't be a trail, but the markers assure you it is. This kind of terrain really gets me going. I love being the plinko chip and I can't really explain why.

Coming into the Tettagouche AS (Mile 35) I was stoked and nearing cloud 9.

Exiting it the sun was starting to set, I mentally tried to prepare for the coming darkness and battle with fatigue. The symphony quieted by the falling dusk is accentuated by the fact I am primarily alone now. But it was here that I would summit cloud 9.
 

I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. Psalm121:1-2

Technical terrain doesn't lend itself to a lot of looking up. When I did my eyes were delighted with the familiar. I was in the middle of nowhere but knew exactly where I was. Growing up my parents had taken me to this state park and section of trail many times. I was comforted by the sights and overjoyed by the flashbacks of memories. 

Rick had warned me that the highest highs are often followed by some of the lowest lows and it is a challenge to meter them in order to keep things level. He was right. I knew I had let my high moment peak too high when it happened.

Thankfully when I approached the corresponding low was also when we were allowed to pick up a pacer. Rick was such a blessing here as I struggled thru feeling overwhelmed. I remembered Maggie hitting this point when I crewed her thru her 100. At some point the rest of the race is going to feel vast, like more than you're ready to take on & that just drags you down. Physically I felt great for being 45ish miles in, sure things ached off and on, that's just part of it, but mentally it was time to go to war. With myself.

"but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31

I pulled thru that just as we pulled into the Finland aid station. The night darkness now blanketing everything turned cold. So I went steazy. I'd officially reached the point of not caring what I looked like. Comfort reigned supreme & this is what it looked like.

Remember the candy? It was time. I had been holding off on my treats knowing that I'd need the boost later in the race. 50miles in...time for music & a little running. Past the low and somewhat still good humored sandwich in hand I headed into the darkness. Alone. I would do my best to cover ground well in the next 13 miles before picking up Rick again. Jeremy had selected Promontory as the track for my first steps back on the trail and from there it was on and my brain was off.

This is where the blur begins and my timeline starts to get fuzzy. From here I mostly just remember shorter & shorter snip-its.

Like arriving at Sonju aid station with what was left of the aforementioned sandwich tucked between my ta-tas. I like running with free hands & that was the only available pocket. I laughed at myself before the aid station worker laughed at me and kindly refilled my pack.

I also remember the reflective XXX's. It's a little unnerving to cast your headlamp out into the distance only to have it met with pure blackness. Cliffs. The risk kept me vigilant and that helped keep me awake the first night. An unexpected blessing.

For eons I could hear the cheers from the Crosby Manitou AS. The feeling of being so close, yet so far away. The switchback down to it took forever, but reaching it was sweet.

Rick took the lead as we departed Crosby and it didn't take long before we came upon this... 

This is the start of a very long boardwalk that would take us thru an open water marsh area. When we reached it we both stopped. Half of it was completely broken and to add insult to injury the remaining board was wet. It looked to be waist deep below the plank and all we could see beyond that was our breath mingling with the fog hovering over the mirky water & the occasional fringe of swamp grass. Rick looked back at me and I could tell he was unsure or less than thrilled. Perhaps both. I offered to go first, but he was a good pacer & tactically trudged on.

Night one was beautiful in its simplicity. Follow the halo of your headlamp, stay warm, stay fed, stay hydrated. Stay awake. I did.

Though I questioned myself once when I thought I saw a runner less than a hundred yards away before he disappeared right before me, for 1/2mile I was freaked out & convinced I'd had my first hallucination. I eventually caught up with him and thanked him for being real, we had a good laugh about that.

And I questioned myself again when Rick & I found ourselves on a pine choked trail. I hadn't seen any trail markers indicating a turn, either had he and the SHT is obnoxious so even though this section had me wanting a machete I didn't think we were off track. In fact I was just happy the pine trees made me smell better. Rick decided to go back and see if we had missed any flags, we had & back on the proper route again we went.

Day Two

There is something special about seeing two sunrises during the same race. I had been looking forward to & waiting for this moment for a long time. It brought with it new hope, some energy & more rain.

I remember standing under an aid station tent, grabbing a cup of soup, burning the heck out of my tongue. Soaked & burnt I must have looked rough because one of the aid station workers came over to inform me that the next section is a little more technical with some good climbing & I needed to decide if I could continue or not. She seemed shocked when I immediately laughed at that & said I'm going. She had just described the Superior Hiking Trail. It's all like that and the thought of dropping was never an option to me.

The grey skies continued.

I could feel the blisters, but they didn't seem like something that needed to be taken care of yet and I didn't want to lose any time in the aid stations so I ignored them for a long while as I splashed thru unavoidable puddles in the pouring rain on my way to Temperance River aid station. Here I would get a sock change, a view of the damage & the best foot rub I've ever had from my mother in law.

After removing my soggy shoes and socks I was surprised at the condition of my feet. They had gone from the been in the bathtub too long pruney stage & right ahead to trench foot. The crease lines were deep, the blisters barely visible thru the pale white skin, yet very much there. Sitting in the chair felt amazing, fresh socks felt amazing, getting out of the chair & back on the trail again, not so amazing. Beware of the chair.

The sun broke way and we were on the climb up Carlton Peak. This side was...difficult. Between the exertion of scaling the countless boulders on the way up and no sleep I was starting to see sparkles. Getting past the peak I refocused working on fueling/hydration to help with the glitter, it helped some, but then I became distracted by my feet. They had begun to feel every little thing and wouldn't stop for the next 20miles.

At the next aid station I grabbed a set of trekking poles, something I had never trained with, but I was desperate to distribute some of the pressure on my soles to anywhere else. This worked for a while and I was able to keep a more consistent however slow pace.

Sooner or later it didn't matter what I did, it just hurt. With each footstep the deep creases in my soles pulled away at the blistered beneath them. Then came the death march. My battle song. In second Corinthians it says that my King's power is made perfect in weakness...as I planted trekking pole after pole literally lifting my body off the ground over countless roots & rocks, I was weak, but His strength was sufficient for me. 

I am still humbled by how Rick took care of me while pacing those miles. It takes a special person to keep a suffering one company. To listen to their grunts, groans & f-bombs of discomfort. And to not be offended when you suddenly stop talking and put the headphones on in an attempt to try to numb out. He is that person and everything I had hoped for in a pacer.

Night 2 fell on familiar territory, 15miles of trail I had covered in a 50k two years prior. This was a double edged sword. Comforting to know where I was. Discouraging to know what climbs & switchbacks were yet to come. Looking at my watch time & time again I was convinced I wouldn't make the cutoff. The thought of not getting the belt buckle or finishers sweatshirt was so frustrating. I knew I'd finish, but that didn't keep me from doubting/believing I'd make it in time.

My brain now deteriorated to that of a 4yr old repeatedly asking "why?",  I asked Rick again and again if we'd make it on time. He estimated we'd be there at 9:30. How the man can do that kind of math given the varied terrain & pace is beyond me, but he was right.

My ipod died just as we caught up to a string of other runners, by then I had discovered that I could stay quieter by biting my neck warmer, my wooden spoon for pain. Their determined pace kept me going. I waited for the boardwalks on a downhill, I knew that meant I was in the last mile. It took forever but we finally hit them.

Everything in me wanted to sprint all the way to the finish when we got into Lutsen, but that was too far for this tired body. When I got to the corner of Caribou Highlands (the finishing "chute") I said aloud "okay my God & King let's do this" and forced my battered feet to run before jumping up & down on the timing pads at the finish line. Something I'm still not sure how I managed to do, but I did it and my race was done. Bliss.

To my Beloved, Family and Friends who came out to support me I am grateful beyond words. You have seen me as a sheep shorn and still supported me the whole way thru, this blows me away.Thank you!

Finishing something like this opens up the doors of what I had limited on being possible and that encourages me to dream big. So I am.

Next up... Arrowhead? I hope!

Spring

It's spring. The trees blossom, fresh blades of grass make their way thru the leaf covered forest floor & as the weekly mileage amplifies in preparation for summer running so does the calling of the trail. If you are a lover of single-track you understand.

Somewhere between the first blizzard and the final thaw I became innately familiar with the city again. This happens every year. I leave my front door and know how to route 6,10 or 20 miles in pretty much every direction. 

There is a certain degree of comfort that comes with that. Comfort in knowing what pace it takes to avoid a string of red lights, which gas stations sell the best granola bars & chilled water by the gallon or the steepest cloverleaf to pound out some hill repeats in.

The sound of traffic, the chirp of street lights & the constant whirr of wind the symphony for my feet. I love the city I live & run in. I love that each spring the streets come alive with people training for the marathon. But eventually those very conveniences, those symphonies, begin to wear making me feel trapped and crowded. 

I long for silence where the only man-made sound I hear is my footsteps in the leaves. To smell the green prairie grasses instead of gas or fast-food greases. The chance to actually get lost, to discover something new. To go on an adventure in any direction, then find that familiar trail that leads you back to where you started.

Last week I went back to where it all started. Well, back to where all of my trail-running started. After four hours of mostly single-track, some strategic fell-running around flooded areas and stopping to take pictures instead of for a stoplight, I was free.

"Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.” Song of Songs 2:12 & 13

The birthday run that was...

A year ago I woke before sunrise. Got in my car & drove to Maggie's. Greeted my running buddies while attempting (as best as you can at 5am.) to get them jazzed about the miles to be covered that day. Then I got in my car and drove home...

This post is for you injured.

After sending my friends off on what was to be a joint "years in miles" birthday run for Jon & I, I drove home with a heavy heart. Still dealing w/ tendinitis and treating a stress fracture meant I was unable to join them. It sucked. Hard core.

Hearing the accounts of triumph as everyone ushered Jon thru his first ultra and how epic the day was, while a joyous thing, didn't bring me any. It felt more like torture.

They say that grief has five stages: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression & Acceptance. Being injured I went thru every single one of these.

Fast forward a year and things are very different. There is joy. Instead of being the injured one, I watched as my friends either had to bow out or taper way back on their mileage during our Birthday Run because of it. A certain part of my heart suffers with them because I know the struggle, the battle for hope, the day when everything feels right again and you can fly with unhindered wings.

Perspective is a beast when you're in the battle. So take it from someone who is past it & someone who will experience it again... there is a light at the end of the tunnel for you.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

"Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm37:4

1 year of tendinitis & 3 months of stress fracture later...grace carried me 31 miles on Saturday. It was a long time coming, but the joy is so much greater having overcome. The once heavy heart sang and I had the blessing of great friends to share the song with.

We started out in the cool morning air, hills blanketed in thick fog, it was beautiful. As the sun rose melting away the mist, so did our miles, giving way to blue skies.

Miles disappear when the mind is occupied and the sights are stunning. This run was a perfect expression of that.

Before I knew it Jon, Erin, Penny, Erik & Lou had finished their marathon training miles and it was time to partake in what I hope will become a birthday tradition: post-run BACON & "better than sex" cake.












Then it was time for Maggie & I to run. Maggie, who is currently 5 months pregnant, was kind enough to crew us the first 18miles before joining me for the final 13. Thanks again!

Despite warm temps near 70 in March, that's not salt on our faces. It's frosting.

*Insert inside joke here about warpaint*

Ready for battle, we set off in the sunshine.

Turns out the afore mentioned bacon & BTS cake don't help an already iffy system. Shocking I know, but I wanted the calories and figured what better run than my birthday run to try earning the "stoop in the woods" ultra merit badge. TMI? Get over it.

Getting over that enough to maintain a decent pace was slow, but thankfully Maggie & Peanut weren't in a hurry. Yet.

When the temps dropped over 20 degrees in five minutes & the winds went from 10mph to gusts of 35mph jet cooled by the freshly thawed lakes, she got the faster miles she'd patiently been waiting for.

I've run in -60f windchills and blizzards, the kind of cold that gives you an icecream headache & attempts to make your eyelashes freeze your eyes shut, but this climate shift was one of the harshest I've faced. A lot of that had to do with the fact that I had no extra layers on me. A light tank & shorts is insufficient in low 40's and 30mph winds, FYI.

Several times our eyes met as Maggie looked back to make sure I was still following and our expressions were the same "this is insane, where did this come from?". She'd slow and we'd trade words & chuckles on how nutty it was. Running faster miles than the previous 26 just to keep more than my arms from going completely numb, was rough, but as rough as it was it wouldn't have been the day I'd been waiting for without it. It was the perfect day.


Your day is coming, persevere and don't lose hope as you wait for it. It's worth it.

Hunting Down the Unicorn...

What does is mean to hunt down a unicorn? That illusive creature somewhere out in nature, beyond sight, beyond logic. And when, if, you find it... what then?

Once again I'm in the pursuit of finding out. Unlike the ethereal white horse with rainbows & glitter trailing from it's tookus, the unicorn I seek is mean. 100miles...then 135miles fierce, domineering in stature, adorned with a single horn that threatens to pierce me to the very ground should I actually come upon it.

This quest has translated into training for two races. And two races only.

The Superior Sawtooth 100 September 7th. Multiple events on the SHT solidified the Sawtooth's calling. It's a beast with 20,000 ft of ascent and 21,000 ft of decent & the fitting final straw (more like a mammoth redwood) between me and the Arrowhead135. Which, pending app. acceptance/qualification will be my second event.

The final months of 2011 were the waking from the sleep and the beginning of 2012 the setting fire to the flame. Here is how I'm keeping it stoked...

It's been an unusually light snow year, with melting temperatures often following any measurable snowfall. I was still able to run barefoot on grass in December, run some trail in January & February, I also got a handful of stray double digit sub-zero runs in between that, but overall we've been holding at 20-25F on average all winter. This has made getting the opportunity to train while dragging a sled hit or miss, so the tire I began dragging in October I'm still dragging into March. Not as a complaint, just an adaptation.

(Thor & Me out on a run in November.)

All of the gear I'll need for Arrowhead will mean pulling close to 1/3 of my body weight behind me in a sled for 135 miles. My hope is to have the feeling of that much drag become familiar, almost second nature, and to maintain good form while doing it. I've also got 20k to climb in September just to get there. Dragging the tire (especially on the flats in town) feels like going up hill, THE ENTIRE TIME. It's perfect. So I've gradually been upping my mileage with the tire on my strength focused weeks and will eventually start weighting it.

Last week was one of those strength training weeks. Two days after hashing out 105 pull-ups and 75 split-jerks of increasing weight, I set out with a group of friends on the gravel hills with Thor trailing behind me & a distance PR in my sights.

(Older pic, but same hills.)

When Maggie and I scouted the planned miles a few days in advance the roads were mostly clear, the footing, deliciously soft & soggy gravel.

Then the wind came...blowing the scattering of snow we had gotten overnight into pillow drifts along route waiting for me the next morning. Minimalist me loves conditions like these, Thor dragging me knew it would add to the difficulty and was less than thrilled.

We started out facing into a stiff headwind. Added resistance. Every time I hit a drifted section on the road the tire would fill with snow, doubling it's weight. Each time distancing me further and further from my friends. My encouragers & distraction from the drag. The pull on already fatigued muscles threatened defeat. I wished I had a sled. If I'd only known the conditions in the country would've finally been suited for it ahead of time, but it was barren of snow 48hrs ago. I was reminded of Bill Bradley's motto "Show up & Suffer", this described my predicament well.

In the miles that followed I was faced with two choices. HTFU or Unclip. Allowing myself to even view one of those as an option is like the crack in an egg, all it takes is a little tap after that and everything comes spilling out. Yes, it was just a training run, but the reality is is that building the mental fortitude to hunt & face down a unicorn doesn't happen at the starting line, it starts now.

Saturday I chose to HTFU, welcoming my Savior & Strength Giver into the miles, pushing me, as I pulled, reaching my mileage goal. Bliss.

Is it worth it? All so that I can get here...


Yes. Even if I don't qualify or get in this year? Yes.

Why? Because deep down I know it's what I'm meant to do and my God continues to bless the journey there. I can't explain the desire or the drive. I just know.

^"Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. " 1 Corinthians 9:26

His timing, His spirit, My Heart, My Legs.

Keeping it Interesting...

When we had new motorcycle tires put on the Kawi this summer I asked to keep the worn out rear, I had other plans for it:

As winter nears so does the "off" season, but I'm keeping it interesting. Yesterday I ran five miles with 10 cloverleaf hill repeats thrown in dragging that & it was awesome! Difficult, well yeah. Confuse many a motorist, without a doubt. But the mile at the end when I unclipped the harness to run free I absolutely flew.

Someday this body will cover 40k of elevation change in 35-ish hours. Someday it will drag a loaded sled 135miles thru the snow in sub-zero temps. When that someday comes I'll be ready.

Icicle Toes & Atmosphere...

Getting back into the running rhythm has been slow following Wild Duluth. Between work, family & some big life changes I've had the desire but lacked the free-time to get out for some miles.

This week I promised myself a run, today was that day. Exiting the front door the air was crisp, the grass frosted, the sun sparkling off of glitter dusted leaves. My heart-rate was high, my breathing labored, my toes cold. I felt disappointed that it wasn't the easy fast run I hoped for, then Became by Atmosphere came thru my headphones and I lost myself in the miles.

It's no surprise I overslept.
Put my boots on and climbed out my tent
I didn't see you
Assumed you were sleeping
immediately start a fire 'cause it's freezing

I cant believe we went camping in the cold
I'm in the wilderness standing in some snow
a late start but we can still catch up
you need to wake up
we should eat and then pack up

that's when I noticed your footprints
the snow's fresh and those have been put since
what you already up making the rounds?
so where you at now? you laid back down

the breeze came and it stalled out the flame
while I went to your tent and called out your name
you didn't answer so i opened up the flap
it's just an empty sleeping bag and your backpack

I'm looking at your tracks and you
took a couple laps round the campground and hoofed down the path
I figure you'll return no concern
I'ma hold put and try to make this cold wood burn

The wind is blowing strong
minutes rolling on
It's going on at least a half an hour you've been gone
it ain't right, start the paranoia
I left the campsite to go and search for ya

I read the trail your feet made
each step was deliberately placed
it looks like you know where it leads
but i see nothing but leaflets, frozen trees.

About a 1/4 mile into the course
and another set of tracks appeared next to yours
from the North it came outta the thick woods
and those footprints belonged to a big wolf.

Trying to find service on my cellphone
I felt aight with my knife on my belt though
I hope the wolf is intimidated by you
I wondered if you even knew it was behind you

Stalking ya, maybe watching ya
waiting for the opportunity to hop on top of ya
salivating wanna take you to the stomach
in the cartoons you woulda turned into a drumstick


And it gets about as bad as it goes
'cause I noticed there's a new set of tracks in the snow
I understood
it doesn't look good
your fan club doubled now you've got another wolf

And the odds are in favour of the home team
why'd you walk off all alone? where you going?
it ain't the right time to complain but
it feels like I'm trying to find your remains

Your footprints grew further apart
I knew what that meant and it was hurting my heart
It means you started to run so i did the same
now my breath's looking like a steam engine train

and suddenly your tracks dip off of the path
and so did theirs
so my knife I grabbed
In to the forest expect the worst
adrenaline burst disturbed the nerves

50 yards into the woods and brush
It got so thick that it looked like dusk
The air stood serene, sober
seemed like a good 15 degrees colder


and I'll admit hell yeah I felt fear
the sound of my heartbeat was all I could hear
looking at the snow it was plain and clear
there was a third set of wolf prints where yours disappeared

I cant process I don't follow
It'd be easier to believe that you were swallowed
but no sign of death, no sign of struggle
no signs of blood no signs of trouble

and the wolves never stopped
the tracks kept going and I took off
so I don't know how your story ends
but I know I'll never go into those woods again

It's not that tragic its not a shame
You're not the hunted you're not the aim
You're just another dog with hunger pains
I was so afraid that you'd become the game

I forgot to worry about what you became
You're not hunted you're not the aim
You're just another dog with hunger pains
I was so afraid that you'd become the game

It's not that tragic it's not a shame
You're not the hunted you're not the aim
You're just another dog with hunger pains
I was so afraid that you'd become the game

I forgot to worry about what you became

Wild Duluth 100k | Race Report 2011

It's been several days now and I'm still not even sure where to begin.

63 rugged miles | over 10,000 feet of climb | 16hrs, 57min, 59sec.

"are you tired?" or "are you sore?" Yes. But what most don't understand is that while this race has left me exhausted in ways, I feel more alive in so many others. And with that comes this overriding realization that it is an absolute privilege to be able do what I do.

Every mile is a gift from God. Some miles are blissful, some miles are brutal. This is the story of mine...

Race morning came early, but I woke calm & ready. It wasn't long before runners were ushered to the starting line, it was invigorating to finally be one of them. There the pre-race meeting went off without a hitch. Many words of caution to mind the leaves on the trail as they're apt to hide roots & rocks. (Something I experienced first hand, but I'll get to that...) then came the reminders to keep an eye out for blue blazes on the trees as well as the extra course markers to be sure you're staying on route. (Something I would find very important later, but I'll get to that...)

Then I was on my way, with about 60 other endurance junkies. The energy was palpable, yet focused on the task at hand. After a short jaunt thru town we were on the Superior Hiking Trail (SHT) and the climbing began.

Miles 1-6 were an interesting mix of trying to stay close enough to the group ahead of me to avoid getting lost in the dark on unfamiliar trail and to remain upbeat when notable twinges in my calves were making a premature appearance during the uphills. I counted the paved roads the trail crossed during this section in hopes that it would give me a better grasp of where I was on the return trip, this served me well & helped me to refocus.

The first few aid stations I was not the best version of myself as I struggled to find my rhythm. Thankfully my stellar crew (Hubby, Maggie & Cory) were still generous enough to put up with my shortness & get me in/out of the stations quickly.

Eventually I let go. Let the pace be whatever it was going to be. Waited for the sun to rise. I had been picturing this sunrise in my mind since I set sights on this race. The view, the stillness of the morning and the cool air on my face erased all of the impatience I had in the climb getting there.

The miles following the sunrise everything come together as I prayed it would earlier. A switch was flipped and my ability was now at harmony with the terrain. Miles 13-20 were some of my bliss where you know that all of the hard training you faced leading up to the event was exactly what you needed. I was doing well.

After I took this photo, I didn't take another. The woods in this area were heavily endowed with leaves and despite my best efforts I caught one of the afore mentioned hidden rocks or roots. In a split second I was down. Knees harshly planted first, bruising both, hands second. I've never been so thankful to be wearing full tights & gloves. More startled then hurt, I stood back up & continued on.

Next up, Ely's Peak... (Header & following images courtesy: Zach Pierce)

On the trip out the 100kers came head-to-head w/ the 50kers here, the perfect boost for this difficult section. I began gaining & passing other racers and then an oncoming 50ker let me know I was currently 3rd for women. So regardless of feeling another issue making itself known and not certain of my placement but excited at the potential, I dominated this peak. One of the more arduous climbs in the race was my strongest/most enjoyable. Wasn't smiling at the top, but I sure was at the base on the other side!

Then the bliss turned to brutal. Leading up to the race I had mentally prepared for my tendinitis to act up again, my quads to fatigue, calves to turn to rocks & hip flexors to wimp out as the miles & elevation added up. Pre-race phantom pains even supported this. But, as with many races the things you expect to be a problem. Aren't.

As I made my way toward the marathon distance a cluster of hemorrhoids had me in an increasing amount of pain and unlike the other problematic spots listed above, there is little your body can do to adapt to relieve pain here. For the next 40 miles I would battle the cowboy boot that was stiff kicking me in the arse every step.

My support crew was invaluable during this time as I struggled to keep going. At this point running the remaining miles seemed overwhelming & at times impossible. Between gravity, bouncing steps, increased heart rate on uphills and jarring downhills I was in a lot of hurt. I also tripped and fell face flat two more times and took a wrong turn losing a mile before reaching the 50k turn-around which only added insult to injury.

As I said before, every mile is a gift. Even the uncomfortable ones. So I began praying not for comfort, but for the strength to continue whether that came in body or mind.

"but those who hope in the Lord will renew their Strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

the will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31

Somewhere in the miles that proceeded I found my fight again & it was like a fire. I could feel I was being prayed for and I could feel my loving Savior answering. Such amazing sights filled my eyes, the perfect company I shared, the right music at the right time. All giving me the hope & assurance that I could do this. Another section of bliss.

As darkness began to fall so did my energy. Due to cold meds that give me dry mouth & so much climbing my hydration through out was solid, but after many hours of racing food became less & less desirable so I started grabbing what I could get down easily instead of what sounded good. My crew was exceptionally helpful in keeping me fueled along the way.

Any concerns I had about night running on such rugged terrain were put to rest when I noticed that the leaf covered trail was easier to define in the dark & any hidden roots/rocks would cast a slight shadow from the headlamplight.

Now in the dark, for the most part completely alone aside from the headlamps in the distance zig-zagging their way up the switchbacks, I ran with my soul. Thinking about everything it took to bring me to this moment and how long I'd been dreaming of that finish line. How even though the cowboy boot was giving me such hell, nothing else hurt.

The last 10 miles were the longest, I remember having to tell myself aloud to run several times when the general fatigue wanted to take hold. But I wasn't done fighting yet. I could see the flicker of headlamps behind me and the ones ahead of me, so I pushed hoping to catch the light ahead and not be caught myself.

At the last aid station I caught Chris, we traded a few encouraging words, he was so much stronger on the uphills that it didn't take him long to the take lead again.

As I neared Duluth I began to count the paved roads I crossed, just as I had on the way out, I was getting close. Once in the city my body ran like it meant everything, the best it could, the fastest it could and then I heard the cheering, the cowbells & the sprint was on. They say if you can sprint at the end of a race you didn't run hard enough during, I say hand me a cowboy boot & then we'll talk.

The day didn't go entirely as planned, but I was blessed with the moments I had been dreaming of and finished with a smile on my face. That's all that matters. :)