This one means the so much to me, for several reasons. I started the race with friends, which is something I have not done before. It was so great to know that I had buddies out there in this with me. I met some new people and unexpectedly ran into some others, people who are trail veterans. I feel lucky to have met them, and I feel a little more like a part of the community, like I belong here. I finished. It's been a while since I finished. I didn't feel prepared coming in. I didn't pack well, I barely knew the course, and I felt pretty overweight (I carry a bit of a belly on my person.) I told my wife earlier in the week that I just didn't feel good about this one.
We drove up in a little traffic Friday evening, finding the check-in roughly 15 minutes before it closed. My wife quickly found us a place to eat in Duluth, and we found it to be a busy diner-type place. There was a wait, but we were just two people and they offered counter service so we decided to sit it out. This was a fantastic decision. You see, we had somewhat randomly chosen to eat at the Duluth Grill, which might be the most amazing place I've ever eaten. I could write an entire post about how great they are. Just amazing. We checked into our hotel, brought in our stuff, and found that the door to the room was not even close to the correct size, but hey, close enough. I slept quite poorly, but whatever.
We got to the start in plenty of time. There was a 10-week-old Australian Shepherd puppy named Oscar right in front of our car. So cute. The owner noticed us eyeing him up, so she let us meet him. THANK YOU FOR LETTING US MEET OSCAR. Checked-in, did pre-race stuff, and met the team. We need a better name than "the team." I guess when I'm referring to Tiffany and Meredith to my wife, I call them "the girls." I guess we could call ourselves "the girls" even though I'm a guy because that's the kind of guy I am. We'll get back to you.
The race start was beautifully low-key. A megaphone, some brief and light-hearted instructions, and some form of go signal. Never change, Voyageur. We took off on streets across a couple of intersections and then a hard right down a bike path, across a bridge and onto some technical trail. I fell into place, expecting to stay there until the first aid station. I was behind a man who was many years my senior, but appeared to be running much stronger than I ever have. He got stung by a bee almost immediately. I was a little worried about that. I eventually ducked by him at a corner, which was stupid. There is no advancing in the first leg of an ultra. Just fall in line. Another couple jumped up a bunch of spots at a creek crossing. That's pointless. If you need to get somewhere at the start, then start forward. Same goes for me. Lesson learned. I was happy to find myself behind a runner wearing Five-Fingers. I can't wear them, myself, anymore, but I do enjoy watching someone else run and pick their way through technical trail in them. I feel like I ran lighter because of that guy. I did no harm. I crossed the swinging bridge, slapping it with both hands, found my wife and took off my shirt. It was not yet 7am, and it was hot out. This would become a theme.
The next section was wide, grassy ski trails, much like the first 9-mile section of Ice Age. This kind of terrain is very tempting to push the pace on, but I learned my lesson in May. I walked every uphill. One guy stopped to ask me if I was okay, which is such a great part of trail culture. He understood my explanation, told me he was going to be stupid and push, and went on ahead. I took it really easy, enjoying the misty morning light and just passively taking in what seemed good. Right near the end of the section, I got in front of a woman who had chosen to blast music from her phone, rather than use an earbud or two. I found that to be pretty offensive. Maybe I'm alone in that opinion, but it seems like that's a jerk move on the trails. Roads, maybe. Trails, be quiet. I am but one man.
I did a poor job prepping my wife for the course, mostly because I did a poor job of prepping myself for the course, mostly because the course has changed so much over the past few years, but also because I do such a poor job of not psyching myself out when I know the course that I chose to run this one pretty ignorant. Point being, I thought I would see my wife in three miles, but instead it was seven. She drove around for a long time looking for the stop before someone told her what was what. I am sorry, my wife. I now owe you an even one million favors.
This section was fun to run. There was a long stretch of flat, paved stuff that had enough grass next to it that you could choose, and then it got into some nice downhill single-track. A veteran a few places up mentioned how rough it was on the way back, a fact I noted but did not fret. I stayed put, firmly planted in my feet. We found the aid station in good time, going easy and doing no harm. I was right behind my teammate Tiffany. I wondered if the next section was the infamous Powerlines. Tiffany asked around and confirmed that it was. Cool, I thought. Let's see this.
Up and down and up. Pretty steep and loose and a little slick. Not fun, but not horrible. I got a kick out of the two photographers positioned to get people in mid-struggle. As a big fan of street photography, I respect their attention to honesty. I kind of thought that was it for the nasty hills when we entered the woods, but then we left the woods and I got the joke. The powerlines are exposed and steep and up and down. Tough stuff, but not impossible. I made it to the next aid station just fine, noting that the race didn't really start until I went back through that. I didn't freak out about it, but I adjusted my mindset. I would be taking poles with on the way back, if I hadn't already picked them up.
The next section was short, two miles. About halfway was a hard right turn. When I got to that intersection, I looked down that turn and saw several large trees across the path. I figured that meant the trail was closed. I opted to go straight on the Superior Hiking Trail, as is my instinct from the fall races. A woman I had passed was right behind me. We moved quickly and climbed some stairs and we covered some ground, but then we came to a part of the trail that looked untouched. I asked her when it was that she last saw an orange flag. We discussed, and decided to head back to the intersection. On our way there, we picked up two others who had missed the turn. We got straightened out and found the aid station quickly enough. Probably went an extra 1.5 miles because of the error, but I didn't for a second let that get to me. Whatever. We were fine for time. In and out of the aid station and on to the next.
There were ropes, because the trail was steep and narrow. That's cool. I've done some rock climbing. Up and on. Over some rivers. The leaders coming back, running like water, smiling and stopping to splash water on their faces. We have fun. The four of us who were once lost trekked on. Nick was running his first 50, Meredith her third, me on my fifth attempt at the distance for what would be my third finish, and Misty on what I think was her fifth round of the Voyageur, alone. When I find myself on the trail engaged in conversation with vets, I try not to make it obvious how much I am taking notes. I try to be cool, but I am not cool. I am noting everything from how you greet other runners to how you step across rivers to what food you are carrying in your pack to how you tie your shoes. The stuff I don't know is infinite and my time is limited. Also, I would like to make more trail friends, so I'm trying to take note of all these things and be personable and also run. How lucky I am to have these be my challenges.
Aid station. Heat is starting to claim victims. I notice it, but I keep ice on the neck and water in the bottles and salt in the salt container and go. Get out of here. Go. Uphill on roads. Exposed. Look back, see notable trail veteran on opposite side of the road, hiking in the shade. OF COURSE. Cross road, also hike in shade. PLAY IT COOL, RUN FINGERS THROUGH HAIR. Not really. Road ends, trail starts. Nice trail. Downhill. Not hard. Nothing's hard. Aid station.
Long hike and run on road. Dip down onto trail. Run through Mud Man Mud Run Cargo Net Water Slide Game Sport. Overwhelm them with positivity. "Nice Job." and repeat. Down the hill. Gonna see this again soon. Cross Tiffany, Meredith close behind. "the girls" are in full force. Add extra half-mile to use restroom. Had to be done. Worth the time. Refuel. Change shoes. Velcro missing, Krazy Glue dry, whatever. The gaiters were fine. More bandages to cover pack chafing. Go.
Uphill. Back through Mud Run, down road, and through aid station. Uphill, against gentle upslope. Start picking off runners. Meet up with veteran, who has caught me after soaking briefly in creek near the zoo. I follow him closely into Beck's Road station. I won't see him again until the finish. Going. Won't see wife for five miles, just to make sure we meet before Powerlines. Burn through next section, passing more runners. Rappel down ropes and across river. Chug uphill for two miles. Not hard. Nothing's hard. My arm starts to chafe against my ribs. Relube. Grab trekking poles. Powerlines.
Hard, but not impossible. Easier on the way back in. Aid station. Ice in water. Ice in Vitargo bottle. Ice for neck. Relube. Uphill. Pass more runners. On paved path, just before aid station, find a female runner assisting a younger, male runner. A woman has stopped on her bike, allowing the young man to use her phone. He is out of it. No water, food, or salt. The female runner gives him a gel. I give him water and food. He talks to his crew, they are on the way. I convince him to walk toward station. He is feeling better. Meredith catches us. Male runner's friend approaches. I pass him off, and I run. I can taste it now. I make good time into station, grab some ice for the neck, see my wife. I hear a familiar voice, and turn to see a familiar face. A local legend is manning this station. I am so happy to see this guy. I barely know him, having run with him a little at Wild Duluth last fall (and totally failed to play it cool,) but he's one of those people who just has a great energy to him. So it kicked ass to see him there. I left my poles. There were some dark clouds rolling in, but I didn't get my new rain jacket. My wife said they were just shade clouds. I don't know why I believed her, but it would be of no consequence.
Out of that aid station was a big downhill. I started my momentum and didn't stop until the finish. I started passing what seemed like all kinds of people. I passed Barefoot Guy. (Hats off to you, Barefoot Guy.) I saw Misty on the other side of the ski loop. I started noting the mantras that got me through the day. "Don't give up. Don't ever give up." and "You are not here for a Facebook post. You are not here for a mug. You are not here for a buckle. You are not here for a picture. You are here to find out what you have when you have nothing left, so give what you've got, buddy."are two of the three big ones. You can refer to the Wild Duluth post if you would like to know the third. I cried some. I flew.
I spent very little time in the last aid station. I grabbed my jacket. I clapped and ran. I had all the legs. I passed everyone I saw, save for a young man in a day-glo Run For Africa shirt. He finished just stronger than I did, but I made him look. He was half my age. I'll take it. The skies opened up on us. I put on the jacket, even though I probably didn't need it. Everything was wonderful. High-five. Hugs. A mug. "the girls" all finished. Photo. Cold shower. Lasagna. Short ride home with a gallon of V8. Pizza. Bed. Pizza. Bed. Back to work.
I can't thank the volunteers and race organizers enough. This doesn't happen without you. I need to thank my wife. None of this happens without you, not one minute of it. I'd like to thank the girls. Running with friends is so great. I had no idea until this race. I'd like to thank the veterans. Thank you for establishing such a great community and tradition. If you ever see me looking cool, don't believe it, because it's bullshit. I'm taking notes so that I can be a better part of the community. I love you all, so very much.
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