NamedPipe

Yes, I finished the race. I did it in 17 hours and 35 minutes which put me in 21st place out of 26 finishers. But Wow! This section of the Superior Hiking Trail (SHT) is tough, even brutal. I ran off course for a mile late at night and probably ended up covering 63 miles by the finish. With the exception of night running (which is hell), the course is beautiful and I had fun the whole time (except at night). The full report of the day is below and it’s long. But if you spent 18 hours running you experience a lot of different things.

Blind Optimism

Let’s start with my blind optimism. I looked at last year’s results as saw that the top finisher did it the race in 10:52. I had done a 50K race on the SHT last spring in 5:24. So I estimated that I could pull off a 100K in around 12 hours (plus or minus an hour). I was way off that mark.

Starting In The Dark

The first bit of reality set in before the race even started when I was home in Iowa. I realized when getting kids ready for school that the sun wasn’t coming up until around 7:25 A.M. each day. The race started at 6 A.M. It dawned on me that I would be running in the dark. I was in denial that I’d need a headlamp. I reasoned that the first 8-10 miles were in Duluth (albeit on the SHT) and there would be enough ambient city light and the pack would be close enough together (everyone else had headlamps) that I’d be able to see fine. And that was mostly true. I was able to stay with the pack, not trip over too many rocks, and stop to ring the Peace Bell while heading up out of Duluth.

Of course I thought, “I’ll be done by the time total darkness sets in so I won’t need a headlamp to finish!” Boy was I wrong.

I made it to the second aid station (8.8 miles out) at 8:15 A.M. But I didn’t realize until later that my pace was 15 minutes per mile. About 4-5 minutes slower than I expected. And I was feeling strong and easily able to keep up with the pack at this point.

Sunrise

I continued onward and caught a beautiful sunrise coming up over Lake Superior. I stopped a couple of times to watch the sun come up and enjoyed the views of downtown Duluth in the distance.

About this time I was running with a woman from Milwaukee who I later learned (after the race), was Julie Treder, a veteran trail racer and a good one at that. I stay with her for a while and then ended up passing her and running with a math teacher (don’t know his name) from Alaska all the way to the Spirit Mountain aid station (mile 13.7).

The next sections were tough (climbing to Ely’s peak) but completely enjoyable. They provided beautiful views of the St. Louis river valley and I enjoyed running with some folks who were quite familiar with the trails we were on.

We came around Ely’s peak and ran into an older couple out on a hike. They looked like they came right out of the Swiss mountains. Both had gray hair and the woman was wearing a long colorful skirt and clogs. We were about 3-4 miles from any trailheads, so they clearly knew what they were doing.

As we passed them, the man said, “It’s cooler as you head that way,” pointing in the direction they had come from and we were heading.

I quipped, “Cooler in temperature? Or Cooler in views of the valley?”

He quickly replied, “Both.”

At the aid station at mile 20 I thought, “What a nice relaxing 20 miles. Piece of cake.” I think I came into that station at about 10:45 A.M. I had originally planned to meet my wife and kids at the turn around (11 miles further) at 11:30. I knew I’d be late but didn’t expect to be more than hour off my estimates (an hour off is only a small error in trail races).

The next 11 miles were easy terrain, but actually kind of monotonous. Mostly rolling hills with the trail covered with leaves (all the leaves had come off the trees giving way to beautiful views). The leaves made the trail slippery at points. I took a decent spill turning the corner on a switchback and rolled down hill on my side. I got up covered in leaves but not injured at all.

Turn Around

I finally came in to the turn around point at, I think, 1:30 P.M. My family was all there and cheering me on. They were a wonderful sight to see. My kids had made signs. My methodical son had made a Candyland-like map of the race with all 62 miles marked out as squares. They gave me my Tobies peanut covered long john which was my motivation for the half way point. My 3-year old ran around with joy and repeatedly came up to me to just to lean on me and be close to me. I felt pretty good.

But I did realize during the previous 11 miles that I was going need a headlamp — which I didn’t own. I was confident I’d finish. But there was no way I was going to finish this thing before dark.

So I tasked my wife with getting me a headlamp and meeting me at the Spirit Mountain aid station to give it to me. It would easily take me 5-6 hours to get there, so she would have plenty of time.

I leisurely turned around from the aid station and started heading back. Every step from here on out was further than I’d ever gone before.

I Think I’ve Been Here Before

The first 4-5 miles after the turn around were emotionally tough. I got deeply depressed. Close to tears through plenty of it. I felt fine physically but was inexplicably sad. I used my wife’s yoga techniques and decided to just ‘move through it’. I looked at the woods and reminded myself that there was no place I’d rather be right now than out on a trail in the woods. And by the time I reached the next aid station I was feeling better.

I ate some nut rolls, saltines, and water then departed. My minimal motivation to get me to the next aid station was that if I made it there and past it, I would have run further (over 43 miles) than my friends Dan and Jim had run in the Brew to Brew ultra they did last spring. It’s rare, but sometimes competition spurs me on.

I had started to experience some dehydration at this point. I noticed that my urine was too yellow in color and it wasn’t very pleasant to go pee. I was carrying an 8 oz. bottle of water that I refilled at each aid station including drinking it down one time while at the aid station. Thus consuming about 16 oz. of water every 2 hours or so. Probably not enough. So I decided to fill up the water bottle at every flowing stream I crossed between aid stations. That worked great and in general I had eliminated dehydration issues by the time darkness set in.

Why?

By now, my mental issues were more deeply existential. I had complete confidence that I would and could finish the race. I had no physical issues (injuries, cramps) other than normal wear and tear. I still had a desire to finish and keep moving forward. But all I could think was “Why?” Why run this long? Why spend this much time doing one thing? What does this get you? Who does this help?

I made it up and around Ely’s peak again (the rocky terrain was very hard to move quickly on at this point). I was motivated to see my family at Spirit Mountain where they would greet me with a headlamp. But the timing was off. My wife had driven around many places that day trying to see me again. The ham radio volunteers were wonderful in helping her pinpoint my location. But finding hidden trailhead aid stations after driving around for two hours with three kids just gets old. So in the end my wife left the headlamps at the Spirit Mountain station for the volunteers to give to me. I didn’t see my family again that day.

Darkness

I put the headlamps on. Two of them because my son wanted give me a Lego man headlamp to use and I also needed a real headlamp to see the trail. I put the Lego man headlamp on my bicep and the real headlamp in the correct position on my head.

It was still light enough that I didn’t need the headlamp for about 20 minutes. I turned it on and it seemed to work fine. It was very unpleasant. Headlamps focus you so directly on the trail right in front of you that can’t look at anything else. That was hard for someone who enjoys taking in all the sights of the forrest when running.

I crossed over an old wooden bridge that was about 15 feet above a decent waterfall. The bridge was in bad shape and I knew that from when I crossed it in the daylight. Plenty of rotting timbers and holes in it. Since I was still adjusting to seeing with the headlamp I took a wrong step and broke through the bridge with one foot. Luckily I was still moving quickly that I didn’t get stuck or fall all the way through. But it was a wake up call to pay attention.

Before crossing under I-35 I caught up with another runner. He was an experience trail runner (done the Wild Duluth 100K last year and the Sawtooth 100 miler a couple of times). I told him I had never run with a headlamp before.

I said, “Running with a headlamp sucks.”

He replied back with a hint of wisdom in his tone, “You know, running with a headlamp does suck!”

I laughed at that and was glad that it wasn’t just my inexperience that made the headlamp thing horrible.

Lost

After we crossed under I-35 we headed up a dirt trail toward some high voltage power line poles. All trail intersections were marked with orange flags which had reflective tape for night visibility. The flags should be on your left on the way out of Duluth and on your right heading back into Duluth. Well we must have missed one. We kept heading up toward the power line poles heading underneath a railroad bridge. At one point I swear a person, breathing heavily, darted across the trail in front of me. Knowing how railroad tracks tend to attract kids and other vagrants I got a little spooked. We kept up the hill but couldn’t find any SHT blue trail markers. We began to think we were lost. I sped up to see a road crossing ahead (I was in better physical shape than guy I was with at this point). It was not a road we had crossed before so we decided to head back down to find the trail. Luckily we saw another runner’s headlamp trailing off into the woods and we found the trail markers which were missing the reflective tape. We got back on track.

The End In Sight

The second to the last aid station was 8.8 miles from the finish. I didn’t stay long there. I ate a grilled cheese. Some gummi bears and refilled my water. Then headed back into the dark for the next 5.7 miles — a very long stretch.

There were three of us at the aid station but we mostly split apart from there. I took the lead as I felt pretty strong and there were some nice smooth patches where I could actually run instead of walking fast. Running on rocky sections of trail in the dark was near impossible so it was nice to pick up the pace. The 5.7 miles was long but I had lots of views of downtown Duluth which made the end seem oh so close.

I pulled in to the last aid station at 10:45 P.M. I made a joke about looking for Tolsoy on his deathbed at this “last station”. But I think I may have actually said “Doestoevsky” instead and just confused the volunteers there. I thanked the couple volunteering, ate some gummi bears and moved on to the last 3.1 miles. I had complete focus on ringing the Peace Bell for the second time.

At about 11:20 P.M. I came across the Peace Bell for the second time. I was elated. I stopped and rang it. It’s deep resonating sound carried me through the silent trails for the next two minutes. It was wonderful.

Needless to say, going down hills at this point in a race is painful. Your quad muscles are pretty beat up and every step of lowering yourself down hurts. So the last 2 miles which largely consist of descending 400-500 feet was not fun. But you’re so close you don’t care.

Finishing

I crossed Michigan Ave and ran across the pedestrian bridge over I-35. My legs hurt but it felt good to run. I continued down the paved trail to the finish line in Bayfront Park. I crossed at 11:45 P.M. and since we started the race 10 minutes late I finished in 17:35.

I relaxed and chatted with some lingering finishers. The other two guys I had passed came in shortly afterward and I sat with one of them and had a bowl of soup. I put my jeans back on, packed my paper grocery bag of gear, and started walking back to my hotel.

The walk was nice and full of joy. I walked into my room at about 12:30 A.M. and saw my wonderful wife.

“Never again!” I said as I closed the hotel door.