The Midwest can claim one of the toughest 50ks in ultrarunning, as well as one of the most beautiful adventures. I’ll admit my bias: I grew up a half mile from Rib Mountain, where the Ironbull Ultra Trail 50k leads runners on climbs up Granite Peak ski slopes and winds around the summit on technical singletrack with a few merciful gravel paths. The race has roughly 7,000 feet of elevation change, and while much of the course is delightfully runnable, the ascents and descents on the ski slopes make carrying trekking poles well worth it to save energy and spare my quads and hamstrings for two full loops.
I returned to run the Ironbull Ultra Trail to mark the profound distance I had traveled in one year in terms of human experience after the death of my husband, Corey. This year’s race took place the week of Corey’s memorial service and helped me process our life together and his abrupt 122-day journey through pancreatic cancer. I ran to celebrate the breath I still have in my lungs and my legs beneath me as I continue to meet life’s challenges and reflect about what I’ve learned.
Start of Ironbull. Photo: Coates Photography
Corey and I ran many races together, however, running was so much harder for Corey, who was built to play football. It’s one thing to win when you are given all you need to make it mostly easy, but it’s nowhere near the win that counts when every single step is hard. Corey built skill and stamina over 10 years and was determined to improve, finishing his own 50k in November of 2021.
What Corey had within him to overcome his battle against pain and complete his ultra was a glimpse of what I saw him bring to our final shared race with time against terminal cancer. As excruciating as those four months were, I am grateful for every single moment.
Ivy Mitchell climbs Granite Peak to second place. Photo: Coates Photography
For most of us, running ultras can bring serious pain. But what I understand now is the difference between pain that you know will end and having a reasonable belief of recovery on the other side. People facing serious illness, and others among us, do not have that luxury and yet they find a way to keep loving and living. It seems so simple, but it is not. Corey should have had another 40 years. The only failure in this life is to stop showing up for it on any given day.