My friend Sam made the first leg of his trip from Tennessee to Indiana, and we set out on Friday morning to Wisconsin. The race start was at 6 a.m. on Saturday morning, and we found ourselves in the starting corral 10 minutes prior. The first couple of miles were fast and felt good. The course is laid out as two out-and-backs, and each of the first 8 (and last 8) miles are the same for each leg. Best to get very comfortable with that section as you’ll spend a third of the total miles on it. We clipped through the first two aid stations and completed the 8-mile section in less than 90 minutes.
We found a decent groove, yoyoing with a handful of fellow racers over the next 12 miles. The first drop bag and crewed aid station was McMiller near mile 20. There were lots of people there, the weather was warming up and this was the first aid station that offered ice, so we filled our ice bandanas and took off. I got done with aid a little quicker than Sam, so I walked until he could catch me. The infamous Meadows loomed which is an exposed, hot section of the Ice Age Trail that covers roughly 6 miles of the race course. While hot and exposed, there isn’t much climbing, so with enough hydration and topical cooling you can move through pretty quickly. Sam and I often run in the midday for our training runs, so the Meadows inspired me to lower our pace.
We completed the Meadows and I, again, left aid before Sam and walked until he could rejoin me. The end of the first out-and-back section includes a 5-mile loop, with a return to the farthest aid station. We completed the loop and started our trek back to “Nordic,” the start/finish aid station. The miles were starting to stack up, but once back in the Meadows, I was ready to rip again. Our pace was a little slower the second time through, but we were still moving well. We reached the McMiller aid and were left with 20 miles to complete the first “half” (100k) of the race.
I didn’t hit a dramatic low in this section, but it was a slow burn downward. It’s always the climbing or uphill pace that degrades first for me. We ran into a 100k runner that had been suffering from a turned stomach, and it was nice to share several miles with him. Each section between aid felt just slightly longer than it should have and the “demons of DNF” began speaking to me, loudly at times. I considered all the benefits of what quitting at Nordic would look like: a shower, maybe even a hotel bed, and an end to suffering. In spite of my thoughts, my legs actually felt better than expected. Within the last couple miles of returning to Nordic, I determined I would not DNF.
We planned for a long and quick 10-minute turnaround, but things were not efficient for me. I had brain fog and trailed Sam out of the start/finish area, and we set out in the waning daylight for a night in the woods. Less than a mile into the second half of the race, I began to get dizzy and wasn’t able to keep pace with Sam despite my legs feeling OK. He dropped me a couple times and finally, I sent him on his way to run his race. I made it to the first aid at Tamarack and sat down, hoping a sit would cure the dizziness. I tried all sorts of fuel and hydration and let 20 minutes pass, but I was still dizzy. The next aid was less than 3 miles away, so I left, pressing forward.
The miles were slow, and the dizziness persisted. It felt like an eternity to make it to the next aid; in reality it was less than 1 hour. It was busy at Bluff, so I sat in a chair for a few minutes before I was noticed by the aid station workers. They were so kind and really wanted to fix me. We tried all sorts of things again. Nothing was shaking it. In total, I dealt with the dizziness for about 3 hours before pulling the plug. After catching a car ride back to Nordic, I napped in my car and the dizziness dissipated. I showered at a truck stop and switched over to “crew mode,” driving out to the Highway 12 aid station to see Sam at mile 86. He was moving well, slightly slowed, but determined to finish faster than any other 100 he had completed.
After crewing Sam, I collected our drop bags and headed back to Nordic for a nap and Sam’s finish. The morning was cool and peaceful as finishers trickled over the 24-hour mark. I got to chat with some old and new friends while waiting – the trail and ultra community is a special one. Sam came cruising in 25 hours 29 minutes. After collecting his buckle, we quickly made our exit.
I still have a lot of unanswered questions as to what went wrong. My hydration seemed to be right on, I got behind at one point but quickly realized and fixed it; nutrition was going flawlessly; even my legs felt the best they ever have at 60+ miles. I know part of the problem was feeling I didn’t have anything to prove – it’s a truth for everyone doing an ultramarathon but thinking about it in the moment doesn’t make you a very fierce competitor. I’ve questioned my sanity during the last few ultras that I have done, but I still enjoy going to that place where the fun thing isn’t fun anymore, and then going farther. On to the next.
Full results here.