INTRO
I just realized it’s been nearly a year since I ran a race of any extravagant distance. I guess time flies when you’re only running short distances. My road back started with a severely damaged left Achilles resulting from my last ultra in October 2010, almost two solid months of icing, stretching and of course no running, then tip-toeing back into SLOW jogging, a couple of local 5k’s and plenty of trepidation. For some reason I then joined a health club and started a regimen of weekend-only swimming & elliptical. That elliptical work did a great deal to strengthen my hips & legs, and I think it directly resulted in my being able to run injury-free this entire season (knock on wood!!).
I also discovered the wonders of multi-vitamins and especially Vitamin B as a miracle form of natural uppers; who needs caffeine, right? As far as equipment goes, I took a chance and hit a home run when I discovered Sorbathanes. They may not be in-tune with the new “minimalist” running craze, but I don’t care, those things are the absolute bomb. I haven’t yet ultra’d in gel inserts, but in all of the other running I’ve done, they’ve been a dream, like running on blubber. I also successfully incorporated trail gaiters into my gear-world, bought my first real pair of running shorts (jury is still out on those), discovered the magic of Ensure as an ultra food, competed in my first sprint tri, gave up my addiction to the internet, read about 30 books and got a new job sort of. And I’ve still got my dog. It’s been a good year.
So it was time to get back on the horse and take a shot at a race that would be way, way too much for my current level of training. This season all I’ve done are one 21 mile run, a few 15-18 milers, a half-dozen middle distance races from 15k up to ½ marathon and that’s it… so I signed up for a 100 miler. This was a really, really dumb idea and I started regretting it almost immediately. I pretty much planned to fail and my escape route was that it’s a 16.6 mile loop course; I could quit after 2 loops and still get a 50k, or quit after 3 loops and still get a 50 miler, etc. My thinking was, if everything was going really well and I wanted to continue (which happened on this same course last year during my 50 mile), I wanted to make sure I had the opportunity. (For those who don’t know, they never let you sign up for a shorter distance and then let you keep going if it’s your day; you have to sign up for the highest distance you think you can do, and then cut it short if it’s not happenin’. That’s how they make their money.) Considering my training level, the smart thing would’ve been for me to sign up for the 50k; that was plenty of ultra for me. Sometimes I wonder why I’ve always had so much trouble making smart decisions.
RACE REPORT
Ultramarathons are surprisingly complex endeavors, but boiled-down to the bare basics, I think there are really just four main factors that ultimately determine success or failure—equipment, what goes into your body, pace, and weather. In a 100 miler, any problem with just one of these factors can completely derail your race. Problems with all four can spell utter doom.
My doom started the day prior to the start of the race, when I was driving home and started hearing a horrible rattling in my car. Turns out I had a broken part in one of my rotors and basically ended up needing new brakes. So the morning of race day (the race started at 4pm) I dropped off my car at the local auto shop at 8am, walked the 1/3 of a mile home and waited. I was planning on resting as much as possible all morning anyway, so this wasn’t a huge setback, though the extra walking is not something I wanted to do prior to my first shot at 100. So I laid on the couch, watched the news, dozed off once or twice, time continued to tick away with no news from the auto shop, finally I called & was told there were one or two problems with getting the correct parts from a nearby supplier, so a 1 hour brake job turned into a 4.5 hour debacle. During this time I should’ve checked all my gear one last time, but I’m an idiot. Eventually I walked back up to the dealership, waited some more & finally got my car back shortly before 1pm. I would then have to take my dog to the dog-sitter (my parents), walk both their dog and mine since they would not be able to later on (more walking I didn’t want to do), then drive an hour to Pinckney MI and try to get all geared up for the race.
So yeah, instead of going through my gear one more time, I just assumed everything was in my little storage tub (since I had packed several days in advance), threw it in the car along with a chair & the dog & hit the road, arrived at the parents’ and got the dogs squared away, then got down to the race with less than an hour to spare. In the parking lot I pulled out the storage tub, pulled out the chair, started to get my gear on and discovered that the single most important part of my whole running world was left at home—my gel shoe inserts. Maybe I’m over-estimating their importance, but at the time I was completely crushed by this discovery. No chance to drive home or to a nearby running store since the clowns at the auto shop screwed up the brake parts order and killed my two hour buffer of time. Instead I had to use a paper-thin sockliner with some relatively new shoes, but I knew right then my shot at 100 miles was already shot. I figured I’d be lucky to get around the 16.6 mile loop once (let alone six times). At this point I also remembered that I forgot to stop at the local running store in town and stock up on Sport Beans. I like to switch off between gels & these electrolyte beans so that I don’t get too much of one or the other; it’s good to mix it up a little when you’re consuming thousands of calories over several hours. Ultras always have gels; they never have the Sport Beans. I also forgot my Zensah’s (calf sleeves), which it seemed half the field was wearing.
So anyway, a couple/few four letter words later, I looked off at the sky, put things into perspective and decided that I would turn my adversity into a positive and make the best of the situation. After all, I don’t have Cancer, The Plague, Dysentery or any other noticeable maladies. I’m healthy, strong, employed, handsome, and doggone it people like me. I was signed up for a trail race, had a lot of positive people around me, and decided I would give it my best effort, see what happens & go as far as I could. That’s the nice thing about this loop course; 2 loops & you get credit for a 50k, 3 loops is a 50 miler, add a shortened 4th loop to that and you’re a 100k finisher, etc.
So, I got my gear on, we got lined up & off we went. I tried to go nice & easy, lots of walk breaks, drank every 15 minutes, ate at :30 and top of the hour, took an electrolyte supplement each hour, it was a little warm & humid but otherwise things were off to a good start. At one point fairly early in the race I saw a big batch of somewhat dark/menacing cloudiness heading for us, but I figured I would be back at my storage tub where I could grab my rain jacket before anything too awful came down. Then I heard a couple rumbles of thunder and saw a flash of lightning or two, but all we ended up getting during that first loop was a couple hours of nice on again/off again light rain that cooled things down and actually made the conditions kind of pleasant.
My shoes were holding up well despite the lousy sockliner, and aside from a couple of muddy/flooded spots the trail was very runnable. My new trail-gaiters worked like a charm. It’s always surprising how quickly a group of 80 or so runners get spaced apart on the trail, and I was quickly on my own, which was fine. The trail was well-marked, everything was basically good. The only real problem I had with my first lap was, my lack of run-training was quickly becoming apparent. I’d been doing a lot of “other” training this year (swimming, elliptical and long-walking), and as a result had not been spending as much time running trails as I did last year. So my feet & legs were surprisingly fatigued by about mile 15. I partially blamed this on the sockliners, but then told myself that’s ok, keep eating/drinking, keep the pace nice & slow, walk the ups, jog the flats & bomb the downhill’s, keep plugging away. First loop was completed in about 3:40, so my goal of 4 hour loops was well in hand. I wanted to do my first loop at least a little fast, figuring I had daylight and fresh legs on my side, so I might as well use these to my advantage and bank a little time. So far so good.
Upon completing the first loop I refueled a little (Ensure, yeah buddy), grabbed my rain jacket, tied it around my waist & headed out for the second loop. Daylight soon faded, so I turned on my headlamp & got used to running by lamp. A little fog started to appear on occasion. I continued eating/drinking when I was supposed to and made my aid station stops very quick; top off the hand-bottle with water, grab two gels & go. I’m a big believer in making aid station stops short, under a minute if possible. It’s amazing how quickly those aid station stops can add 30, 45 minutes, even an hour or more to your final time. And the shorter your final time, the less time on your feet & the quicker you’re done.
The rain started getting a bit more persistent on this second loop, so I threw on the raincoat, pushed up the sleeves & plugged on. There were times when I was glad to have the raincoat, other times it seemed an unnecessary nuisance. From everything I’d seen in weather forecasts earlier, we weren’t supposed to get anything too crazy in the way of rain, so I figured this would be the last of it and then we’d be done with it. I wasn’t keeping particularly close track, but it seemed to rain for the majority of this second loop, again mainly just light to moderate rain. Parts of the trail started to get a little more muddy as a result, but not too un-runnably so.
I seemed to have made my peace with the general agony in my legs & feet that I’d started feeling around mile 15, so I started contemplating how far I thought I could go. I figured 50 miles would be tough but very possible, maybe I could even do the shortened loop and finish the 100k. I seemed to get lost in my thoughts as I went on & on, surprisingly not sleepy (I’m usually in bed by 9pm, so being this awake and alert as midnight approached was very encouraging). Around this time I came to the realization that the first half of the loop seemed to be pretty benign, while the second half had some steep climbs and the muddiest spots in the course. As it rained more & more, the extra-muddy area at the end of the loop got noticeably worse this second time around. Still I was able to navigate it fairly well and only got one of my feet significantly wet, finished the loop and got ready for loop # 3. As I refueled & got ready to head out, I heard the guy keeping track of everybody shout out to another guy keeping track that runner # XXXX was a DNF after two loops. He would get credit for a 50K and live to fight another day. (But why did they have to shout it?)
I thought the rain was for the most part done with, since it had completely stopped when I had finished my second loop. So I had to make a decision on whether to keep my raincoat tied around my waist. Maybe I thought it was more of a nuisance than it was worth, and the night seemed to continue to stay warm, so I decided to leave the coat at the base camp area and head out for my third loop, thinking an occasional sprinkle would feel nice & keep me cool.
Not even 400 yards into my third loop I heard another menacing rumble and caught another glimpse of lightning, but I figured it would be just like before and maybe sprinkle like it did during the first loop & that would be that. So on I went, and it did start raining again, a little more persistently than I would’ve liked. The agony in my legs & feet persisted a little more than I would’ve liked. The trails continued deteriorating a little more than I would’ve liked. From the waist up I felt like a million bucks, but from there down things were Solid Ache. I’ve been battling an Achilles issue for the past year, and one of my biggest concerns coming into this race was how the Achilles would hold up. For the first two loops it was mostly fine; on this third loop it was starting to get downright cranky. I stopped to stretch a couple of times, but the relief was only temporary. The rain continued to fall, I continued to eat & drink, my stomach only got iffy a couple of times but any nausea quickly went away. My only problems were ache & rain, but they were real problems and only getting worse.
Shortly after the halfway point of the third loop, it really started to rain. Constant. Steady. Relentless. The trails were turning to the consistency of fecal matter in spots. On a couple of the uphills there were rivers running down the middle of the trails. I really missed my rain jacket at this point. My Achilles got significantly worse, I think mainly because the ground was so unstable and my foot/ankle was getting tweaked in far too many different directions with each step. Between the legs/feet agony and my Achilles issues I was mainly just walking at the 40 mile point on. And it continued to pour; I was completely drenched, hat/shirt/shorts/shoes were saturated. My feet had been holding up extremely well against blisters, but since they were so wet I was getting a couple of hot spots by now. Those last two hours of waddling along in the mud, from 2am to 4am, with the inescapable rain not letting up for one second, with my legs and feet in such bad shape, it was quite frankly a horrible, miserable, awful experience. And I actually paid a lot of money for this. I was still walking fairly quickly, but only because I was so desperate to get to the base camp tent and out of the rain.
This was when I decided to drop. (Why did he have to shout it?) I wasn’t alone; 70% of the entire field of 100 mile participants had dropped. The weather was against me (it continued to pour hard well after I was done), the equipment was against me, I shouldn’t have banked time with a fast first loop (especially bombing the downhills), and in retrospect I wasn’t quite hitting my electrolyte goals (those Sport Beans definitely would’ve helped). That’s problems on 4 out of 4 key factors. Could I have gone 100 if I’d had my gel inserts & Sport Beans, it hadn’t rained a drop and I took it a little easier on the downhills? I actually think I could’ve come close, but I can’t say for sure and besides it doesn’t matter. What matters is, I completed another 50 miler, learned a lot about my ability to handle ultra distances, and didn’t damage myself so terribly that I won’t be able to do another race a month from now. (I feel like I’m taking “failure” pretty well; did I just grow up?)
I probably could’ve willed my way through the shortened loop to get my 100k, and I certainly thought about it several times, but with the trail conditions as deteriorated as they were, and the relentless rain continuing to pour in buckets as it was, I had a real concern about seriously damaging my Achilles to the point where my season (and possibly “career”?) would be done. Was the distinction between 50 mile and 100k worth the risk? And was it worth spending another 4 hours in the rain for, perhaps bringing on a bout of pneumonia? In a word, no. On thing that mildly bothers me is that I got no “credit” for my 50 miler; on the website on the Results page my name is nowhere to be found. Fortunately I don’t run ultras for internet website recognition, so it’s not that big of a deal, and it’s not the first time there’s been a problem with my info on a website.
Next up is my redemption race at the St. Pat’s 24 Hour in mid-October. Not sure how that’ll go, but I can guarantee you I won’t forget those fucking gel inserts.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
St. Pats 24 Hour
The ultramarathon is a fickle, unforgiving, bipolar temptress, half Athena and half Medusa. I did my first 50 miler in late September and it was epic, a dream day, the best of my life. Full of confidence, in Mid-October I tried to do the St. Pats 24 Hour and it was literally the polar opposite. (If I'm publishing the good races, I have to publish the bad ones too, otherwise nobody learns anything right?)
The course was a 3 mile loop at St. Patrick's county park about 10 minutes north of Notre Dame University on the Indiana/Michigan border; terrain was lumpy but otherwise mainly flat, leafy and very runnable. One good uphill, one good downhill, smaller slopes mixed in. Weather was perfect, upper 50's and sunny. Going in I knew how out of my league I was--even though there were fewer 24 hour participants, they were from all over the country, California to Maine. Somebody mentioned that it was Not an easy course for a 24 hour race. In the end that made me feel a little better, not sure if he was right or not.
I made two mistakes in the first couple hours that doomed my day, and which doom 100% of runners at some point in their race lives: went out too fast for my ability that particular day, and didn't have my nutrition dialed in. I actually thought I could try for 100 miles, but the sane, correct goal would've been to completely dismiss any sort of distance goals, start nice & easy, don't try to maintain any sort of pace, pick it up later if I felt good & see how long I could last / how far I could go. After all it was my first 24 hour race, I'd never run more than 11 hours in a day, never run more than 50 miles, this would be a learning experience. But being the over-confident moron that I was, I figured I would try for 5 miles per hour, go for 60 miles the first 12 hours and 40 miles the second 12 hours. Yeah hindsight is 20-20, but looking back I think wow, so, so wrong was I. For my own personal situation, this goal wasn't even close to being realistic.
Regarding food, in the past what I've done is alternate between gels and sport beans, eating on the 1/2 hour and hour, taking my e-caps and throwing in some real food from time to time. And it's worked. For this race I didn't have nearly enough gels to get me through even 1/2 of this race, and unfortunately due to the sponsorship of the race by a certain company (rhymes with "hammer") there were some raspberry gels that were probably healthier but they didn't have Gu's (chocolate, vanilla, espresso) like I thought they would, so I winged it by eating more real food like potatoes, pretzels & oranges and thinking I would only work in my own personal gels/beans later in the race as needed. Oops again.
My race started out uneventfully, miles 1-15 felt fine, marveled at the changing leaves on the course & natural beauty of the park, saw a few deer, and towards the 15th mile everything was going ok but my legs were already starting to feel a little beat up, which wasn't a good sign. But I figured I was just getting warmed up and things would be better later. Then around mile 20 I felt a little tweak in my left achilles. This wasn't new, I've felt it before. The smart thing to do would've been to stop, massage it, stretch it and try to fix the problem immediately (which has worked in the past for me), but in my unrealistic pursuit of maintaining a 5 mph pace I pressed on, hoping it would go away. This is a perfect example of a stupid ultramarathoner--by this point of the day I already knew in the back of my mind that 100 miles was almost definitely out of the question, but I tried to maintain my pace anyway. Something about banking time. I also started getting some top-of-foot pain on my right foot, which I've had in the past and have been able to run with. Wasn't worried about that. Also had occasional, temporary flare-ups of both IT bands which would appear throughout the rest of the day (not at the same time; it would be one side, then nothing, then the other side, then nothing, etc.). Not worried about that because they kept going away.
Around mile 20 I started to hit The Wall. Normally when I hit The Wall it takes a couple/few/several miles to work through it and then I get my second wind. However, this particular Wall lasted for about 12 miles (over the course of about 3-4 hours). I tried eating more (mainly salty potatoes, oranges, nothing out of the ordinary), drinking more (mostly water & some Powerade), slowing down my pace with more walk breaks, finding better music in my mp3 player, but nothing worked. So here I was, with a flared-up achilles, top of foot pain, occasional IT band flare ups, a Wall I couldn't get past, and 18 more hours to go. How am I doin'. At about mile 35 / hour 7 I even talked to the race director about dropping from the 24 hour down to the 12. I had to re-adjust my race goals several times: maybe I could do 80 miles, maybe 75 miles, I should at least shoot for 100k, etc. My inherent wishy-washy nature was on full display.
I became convinced that this whole Wall problem was caused by my saving my stash of gels/beans until later in the race, so I started back on my old tried & true method of alternating between gels and sport beans, eating on the 1/2 hour and hour. I had to do something, so I figured I'd burn through my supply and if even that didn't work, I'd finally quit & head off to the liquor store for a carton of Marlboros and a fifth of Jack Daniels. Fortunately about mile 38 things changed almost instantaneously, my strategy may have apparently worked and I started feeling like a million bucks. Sugar rush? Air guitar, singing out loud, flew through 3 great loops in a row, legs had energy, achilles wasn't bothering me nearly as much, Frampton Comes Alive causing me to ask the trees Do you feel like I do?, life was good again. At this point I was approaching 50 miles and 12 hours, still firing on all cylinders, figured I would keep going until I hit 100k and would re-asses at that point, seeing if I had a chance at 75 miles. But, alas, I ran out of Gu's and sport beans, and as the sun was setting, my energy surge faded with the light of day.
Maybe I'm genetically encoded to be one of those runners fueled by sugar, high-fructose corn syrup, chemicals and other nasty weird unnatural ingredients...but those Gu's & beans resulted in the only good running of the day. Maybe I should've trained more with real food (and trained more period). But once I passed 50 miles & ran out of fueling goodies I quickly went back to slogging along, soon completely unable to run, walking in an increasingly uncomfortable waddle and seeing how much further I could go until I finally threw in the towel. Turns out that point was at 60 miles. I only needed one more loop to make 100k, but miles 51-54 were agony, 54-57 were unbearable and 57-60 were the absolute end of the line. The only positive from the entire experience I could come up with was, I gave every single possible thing I could and left everything I had out there on the course, which really was my ultimate goal coming in to this event.
If I could have a do-over, I'd bring my own Gu's / beans (enough for the entire race), ignore any time or distance goals, listen to my body, strictly work within the constraints of what my own body has given me on a particular day, and DO MY OWN THING instead of going after some sort of distance or time goal. Especially going into a new race, you never want to trust what kinds of fueling/nutrition/gels the race will provide, so bring your own.
My last two races have been 50 and 60 miles. The 50 mile was the dream race of my life, a magical experience I'll never forget. The 60 was a disaster. Really this was absolutely a perfect way to have it work out, because while the 50 will keep me coming back, the 60 was a hugely important education for me and will remind me that I need to be honest with myself, pay attention to what I'm doing, work within my abilities, respect the Ultra distance and not expect everything to go perfectly. I learned way, way more from failing miserably at the St. Pat's 24 Hour than I would've learned from 10 of those good races. I now have a really cool hat & really cool shirt, but far more important, I'm humbled again and have this important experience to learn from. And to me at least, maybe the two most important tools in the ultrarunner's arsenal are humility and experience. I sure hope I bring those tools with me to the next race I do.
The course was a 3 mile loop at St. Patrick's county park about 10 minutes north of Notre Dame University on the Indiana/Michigan border; terrain was lumpy but otherwise mainly flat, leafy and very runnable. One good uphill, one good downhill, smaller slopes mixed in. Weather was perfect, upper 50's and sunny. Going in I knew how out of my league I was--even though there were fewer 24 hour participants, they were from all over the country, California to Maine. Somebody mentioned that it was Not an easy course for a 24 hour race. In the end that made me feel a little better, not sure if he was right or not.
I made two mistakes in the first couple hours that doomed my day, and which doom 100% of runners at some point in their race lives: went out too fast for my ability that particular day, and didn't have my nutrition dialed in. I actually thought I could try for 100 miles, but the sane, correct goal would've been to completely dismiss any sort of distance goals, start nice & easy, don't try to maintain any sort of pace, pick it up later if I felt good & see how long I could last / how far I could go. After all it was my first 24 hour race, I'd never run more than 11 hours in a day, never run more than 50 miles, this would be a learning experience. But being the over-confident moron that I was, I figured I would try for 5 miles per hour, go for 60 miles the first 12 hours and 40 miles the second 12 hours. Yeah hindsight is 20-20, but looking back I think wow, so, so wrong was I. For my own personal situation, this goal wasn't even close to being realistic.
Regarding food, in the past what I've done is alternate between gels and sport beans, eating on the 1/2 hour and hour, taking my e-caps and throwing in some real food from time to time. And it's worked. For this race I didn't have nearly enough gels to get me through even 1/2 of this race, and unfortunately due to the sponsorship of the race by a certain company (rhymes with "hammer") there were some raspberry gels that were probably healthier but they didn't have Gu's (chocolate, vanilla, espresso) like I thought they would, so I winged it by eating more real food like potatoes, pretzels & oranges and thinking I would only work in my own personal gels/beans later in the race as needed. Oops again.
My race started out uneventfully, miles 1-15 felt fine, marveled at the changing leaves on the course & natural beauty of the park, saw a few deer, and towards the 15th mile everything was going ok but my legs were already starting to feel a little beat up, which wasn't a good sign. But I figured I was just getting warmed up and things would be better later. Then around mile 20 I felt a little tweak in my left achilles. This wasn't new, I've felt it before. The smart thing to do would've been to stop, massage it, stretch it and try to fix the problem immediately (which has worked in the past for me), but in my unrealistic pursuit of maintaining a 5 mph pace I pressed on, hoping it would go away. This is a perfect example of a stupid ultramarathoner--by this point of the day I already knew in the back of my mind that 100 miles was almost definitely out of the question, but I tried to maintain my pace anyway. Something about banking time. I also started getting some top-of-foot pain on my right foot, which I've had in the past and have been able to run with. Wasn't worried about that. Also had occasional, temporary flare-ups of both IT bands which would appear throughout the rest of the day (not at the same time; it would be one side, then nothing, then the other side, then nothing, etc.). Not worried about that because they kept going away.
Around mile 20 I started to hit The Wall. Normally when I hit The Wall it takes a couple/few/several miles to work through it and then I get my second wind. However, this particular Wall lasted for about 12 miles (over the course of about 3-4 hours). I tried eating more (mainly salty potatoes, oranges, nothing out of the ordinary), drinking more (mostly water & some Powerade), slowing down my pace with more walk breaks, finding better music in my mp3 player, but nothing worked. So here I was, with a flared-up achilles, top of foot pain, occasional IT band flare ups, a Wall I couldn't get past, and 18 more hours to go. How am I doin'. At about mile 35 / hour 7 I even talked to the race director about dropping from the 24 hour down to the 12. I had to re-adjust my race goals several times: maybe I could do 80 miles, maybe 75 miles, I should at least shoot for 100k, etc. My inherent wishy-washy nature was on full display.
I became convinced that this whole Wall problem was caused by my saving my stash of gels/beans until later in the race, so I started back on my old tried & true method of alternating between gels and sport beans, eating on the 1/2 hour and hour. I had to do something, so I figured I'd burn through my supply and if even that didn't work, I'd finally quit & head off to the liquor store for a carton of Marlboros and a fifth of Jack Daniels. Fortunately about mile 38 things changed almost instantaneously, my strategy may have apparently worked and I started feeling like a million bucks. Sugar rush? Air guitar, singing out loud, flew through 3 great loops in a row, legs had energy, achilles wasn't bothering me nearly as much, Frampton Comes Alive causing me to ask the trees Do you feel like I do?, life was good again. At this point I was approaching 50 miles and 12 hours, still firing on all cylinders, figured I would keep going until I hit 100k and would re-asses at that point, seeing if I had a chance at 75 miles. But, alas, I ran out of Gu's and sport beans, and as the sun was setting, my energy surge faded with the light of day.
Maybe I'm genetically encoded to be one of those runners fueled by sugar, high-fructose corn syrup, chemicals and other nasty weird unnatural ingredients...but those Gu's & beans resulted in the only good running of the day. Maybe I should've trained more with real food (and trained more period). But once I passed 50 miles & ran out of fueling goodies I quickly went back to slogging along, soon completely unable to run, walking in an increasingly uncomfortable waddle and seeing how much further I could go until I finally threw in the towel. Turns out that point was at 60 miles. I only needed one more loop to make 100k, but miles 51-54 were agony, 54-57 were unbearable and 57-60 were the absolute end of the line. The only positive from the entire experience I could come up with was, I gave every single possible thing I could and left everything I had out there on the course, which really was my ultimate goal coming in to this event.
If I could have a do-over, I'd bring my own Gu's / beans (enough for the entire race), ignore any time or distance goals, listen to my body, strictly work within the constraints of what my own body has given me on a particular day, and DO MY OWN THING instead of going after some sort of distance or time goal. Especially going into a new race, you never want to trust what kinds of fueling/nutrition/gels the race will provide, so bring your own.
My last two races have been 50 and 60 miles. The 50 mile was the dream race of my life, a magical experience I'll never forget. The 60 was a disaster. Really this was absolutely a perfect way to have it work out, because while the 50 will keep me coming back, the 60 was a hugely important education for me and will remind me that I need to be honest with myself, pay attention to what I'm doing, work within my abilities, respect the Ultra distance and not expect everything to go perfectly. I learned way, way more from failing miserably at the St. Pat's 24 Hour than I would've learned from 10 of those good races. I now have a really cool hat & really cool shirt, but far more important, I'm humbled again and have this important experience to learn from. And to me at least, maybe the two most important tools in the ultrarunner's arsenal are humility and experience. I sure hope I bring those tools with me to the next race I do.
50 Mile RR---Best race ever
LEAD-UP
On paper, I had no business even thinking about doing a 50 miler. My entire year has been one injury after another: Left IT Band, Right IT Band, Right Hamstring issues, Right index toe broken (April), Right pinky toe broken (August), ongoing Compartment Syndrome in my right calf, etc., and as a result I've really only averaged about 25 miles per week for all of 2010. I also walk Leroy about 15 mpw so that's a total of 40 mpw of motion on my feet, which sounds better than 25 mpw, but come on, dog walking as a part of ultra training? Really? Am I going there?
Still, I really wanted to take a stab at a 50 miler this fall, so as a last-ditch effort I, um, went on vacation...But it was 9 days of hilly trails in Northern Michigan ending on Labor Day, with some running but the vast majority just hiking. I covered appx. 110 miles during those 9 days, putting in a lot of time on my feet, mainly kept it at a hiking pace so I wouldn't put myself at as much risk of running/overuse injuries, and had it timed perfectly to end at the start of a 3 week taper for Run Woodstock Festival in Pinckney, MI.
I ran the 50k for this event last year, and it was a hard course so I figured it would also be hard this year, meaning that if I tried the 50 mile, with my level of training, I'd be doomed. (Course wasn't quite as hard as last year, but still plenty of hills) I signed up about 10 days before with all kinds of trepidation & uncertainty, but I figured that if I handled the Big Four perfectly (pace, fueling, electrolytes and hydration), I had a shot at finishing under the 15 hour cutoff. Still...50 miles?? Then one night about a week out I read a race report of someone's 100 miler and it put things in perspective for me (which is more honest than saying it "Inspired" me, but it probably did that too, a little), I felt way better about my situation, and achieved a tentative peace with what I was about to get myself into.
As expected, my Friday at work the day before the race was overly stressful, one of the most frantic days of my career, so when I finally got home & got ready for bed I was noticeably tired physically & mentally. This was good, because it meant I was able to get to sleep fairly quickly about 9pm. Then I woke up pretty refreshed & wide awake.....1/2 an hour later. Wide awake. Couple hours later I finally got back to sleep & slept about 3 hours, drove down to Pinckney, still had all sorts of uneasiness about things to come but it was too late to back out & time see what would happen.
RACE
We started at 6am in the dark with headlamps, I fell in with a group going too fast for me and, of course, I tried to stick with them, figuring I should bank at least a little time since surely I'd be falling apart later in the race and would need the time. The really cool thing about our course was, it was being shared by the 100 milers and 100k runners who had started yesterday afternoon at 4pm. Running all night is just incomprehensible to me, and the folks that we saw running the opposite direction at certain points in the course from time to time (the 100m/k people) are straight up MANIMALS.
So, I trucked along at what I felt was a comfortable pace, had the usual early fatigue & run-of-the-mill sore spots but flew through my first loop in 3.5 hours. I was figuring a Minimum of 4 hours per loop (around 16.6 miles per loop), so I figured, yeah, way too fast, I'm doomed. One thing I tried to do that I thought would really help my time was, I completely blew through several aid stations without stopping/lingering. I wore a hydration pack (with storage area for Gu's, electrolytes, etc.) so I was pretty self-sustaining throughout most of the race, just needed the water topped off a few times.
A few miles into Loop 2 I slowed to a walk and chatted with a gal named Terry Hayes. She's 67, done Eight 100's, she's a race director for several ultras in the South Carolina area and basically one of the coolest ladies I've ever met. 67 years old, competing in the 100k and been up for at least 30 hours or so, and we talked about how great ultras are. Truly one of the highlights of my day. (The site for her races is http://www.ultrasontrails.com/)
After talking with Terry for about 15 minutes I took off & tried to continue my surprising pace from the first loop...and soon started falling apart. I get this weird top-of-foot pain when I do longer hilly trail runs/races, and that was starting to re-emerge. I was also growing fatigued, thinking I was reaching the end of my rope since even my up north hikes were only 4-5 hours in length. Miles 20-25 were the worst, abysmal, awful, I was hatin' it.
Near the end of loop 2 I was getting a particularly Hot hot-spot on the bottom of my foot near my toes and wasn't sure if that would completely derail my day. I made a decision right then at the end-of-loop-2 aid station to lube up the foot & hope for the best. Turned out to be a good call. (While sitting there I listened to a 100 miler who'd just finished, having a completely normal conversation with some girl he knew, mentioning to her "Wine makes me loopy". He runs 100 miles from 4pm Friday afternoon until early afternoon on Saturday, but it's wine that makes him loopy, not all-night ultras apparently. People, huh?) I grabbed potatoes with salt and an orange wedge, figured I needed to get my butt back out on that trail before I made a stupid decision to quit & headed out.
At about mile 33 or 34, something happened where I was transformed from a half-awake under-trained bonking wannabe into, well, a whole new person. I Felt So Good! Flying along, effortlessly, dangerously. I kept having to bring myself back to reality, get back into the moment, not get swept up in "what could be", and not do anything stupid as far as injuring myself. But I felt on top of the world for about the next 7 or 8 miles, playing air guitar, singing, and I really have no idea why (maybe all the sugar in those Gu's & sport beans finally caught up to me?). (The greatest running music in the world? Grand Funk, but it's gotta be live, any concert from their heyday. Trust me on this.) Even the top-of-foot pain went from nagging to barely there. I would get a little more fatigued later in that loop but was able to carry that momentum through the rest of my race. My main goal for the day was to finish, secondary goal was to break 13 hours and a dream race would be to break 12; I finished in 10:57, 2nd in Age Group and around 12th overall. I flat-out nailed this race; it was a truly epic day.
NEXT DAY THOUGHTS
Seeing the 100 milers throughout the day was really was a great thing because I literallly had not one single reason to complain all day long. Whenever things got bad I would look at or think of one of the 100 milers and think wow, I've got it easy. Only doing 1/2 of what they're doing. Only 50 miles. Going into the day and throughout the day I would look at how far I'd gone and think about how it would be if I was at that point of a 100, which was a great little mental trick that put things in perspective and brought me back into the moment. Will I try 100 in the future? Oh yeah.
My 3rd loop ended up being almost as fast as the first. Stomach turned a little sour towards the end. Weather was perfect, upper 50s & cloudy, took one e-cap every hour which was just right for the conditions. Ran the downhills with these little bitty steps & tried to avoid a breaking motion (and only sorta bombed a couple of downhills), as a result the quads didn't take much of a beating at all, at least compared to previous trail races I've done. Volunteers were fantastic, aid stations were well-stocked.
On paper, I had no business even thinking about doing a 50 miler. My entire year has been one injury after another: Left IT Band, Right IT Band, Right Hamstring issues, Right index toe broken (April), Right pinky toe broken (August), ongoing Compartment Syndrome in my right calf, etc., and as a result I've really only averaged about 25 miles per week for all of 2010. I also walk Leroy about 15 mpw so that's a total of 40 mpw of motion on my feet, which sounds better than 25 mpw, but come on, dog walking as a part of ultra training? Really? Am I going there?
Still, I really wanted to take a stab at a 50 miler this fall, so as a last-ditch effort I, um, went on vacation...But it was 9 days of hilly trails in Northern Michigan ending on Labor Day, with some running but the vast majority just hiking. I covered appx. 110 miles during those 9 days, putting in a lot of time on my feet, mainly kept it at a hiking pace so I wouldn't put myself at as much risk of running/overuse injuries, and had it timed perfectly to end at the start of a 3 week taper for Run Woodstock Festival in Pinckney, MI.
I ran the 50k for this event last year, and it was a hard course so I figured it would also be hard this year, meaning that if I tried the 50 mile, with my level of training, I'd be doomed. (Course wasn't quite as hard as last year, but still plenty of hills) I signed up about 10 days before with all kinds of trepidation & uncertainty, but I figured that if I handled the Big Four perfectly (pace, fueling, electrolytes and hydration), I had a shot at finishing under the 15 hour cutoff. Still...50 miles?? Then one night about a week out I read a race report of someone's 100 miler and it put things in perspective for me (which is more honest than saying it "Inspired" me, but it probably did that too, a little), I felt way better about my situation, and achieved a tentative peace with what I was about to get myself into.
As expected, my Friday at work the day before the race was overly stressful, one of the most frantic days of my career, so when I finally got home & got ready for bed I was noticeably tired physically & mentally. This was good, because it meant I was able to get to sleep fairly quickly about 9pm. Then I woke up pretty refreshed & wide awake.....1/2 an hour later. Wide awake. Couple hours later I finally got back to sleep & slept about 3 hours, drove down to Pinckney, still had all sorts of uneasiness about things to come but it was too late to back out & time see what would happen.
RACE
We started at 6am in the dark with headlamps, I fell in with a group going too fast for me and, of course, I tried to stick with them, figuring I should bank at least a little time since surely I'd be falling apart later in the race and would need the time. The really cool thing about our course was, it was being shared by the 100 milers and 100k runners who had started yesterday afternoon at 4pm. Running all night is just incomprehensible to me, and the folks that we saw running the opposite direction at certain points in the course from time to time (the 100m/k people) are straight up MANIMALS.
So, I trucked along at what I felt was a comfortable pace, had the usual early fatigue & run-of-the-mill sore spots but flew through my first loop in 3.5 hours. I was figuring a Minimum of 4 hours per loop (around 16.6 miles per loop), so I figured, yeah, way too fast, I'm doomed. One thing I tried to do that I thought would really help my time was, I completely blew through several aid stations without stopping/lingering. I wore a hydration pack (with storage area for Gu's, electrolytes, etc.) so I was pretty self-sustaining throughout most of the race, just needed the water topped off a few times.
A few miles into Loop 2 I slowed to a walk and chatted with a gal named Terry Hayes. She's 67, done Eight 100's, she's a race director for several ultras in the South Carolina area and basically one of the coolest ladies I've ever met. 67 years old, competing in the 100k and been up for at least 30 hours or so, and we talked about how great ultras are. Truly one of the highlights of my day. (The site for her races is http://www.ultrasontrails.com/)
After talking with Terry for about 15 minutes I took off & tried to continue my surprising pace from the first loop...and soon started falling apart. I get this weird top-of-foot pain when I do longer hilly trail runs/races, and that was starting to re-emerge. I was also growing fatigued, thinking I was reaching the end of my rope since even my up north hikes were only 4-5 hours in length. Miles 20-25 were the worst, abysmal, awful, I was hatin' it.
Near the end of loop 2 I was getting a particularly Hot hot-spot on the bottom of my foot near my toes and wasn't sure if that would completely derail my day. I made a decision right then at the end-of-loop-2 aid station to lube up the foot & hope for the best. Turned out to be a good call. (While sitting there I listened to a 100 miler who'd just finished, having a completely normal conversation with some girl he knew, mentioning to her "Wine makes me loopy". He runs 100 miles from 4pm Friday afternoon until early afternoon on Saturday, but it's wine that makes him loopy, not all-night ultras apparently. People, huh?) I grabbed potatoes with salt and an orange wedge, figured I needed to get my butt back out on that trail before I made a stupid decision to quit & headed out.
At about mile 33 or 34, something happened where I was transformed from a half-awake under-trained bonking wannabe into, well, a whole new person. I Felt So Good! Flying along, effortlessly, dangerously. I kept having to bring myself back to reality, get back into the moment, not get swept up in "what could be", and not do anything stupid as far as injuring myself. But I felt on top of the world for about the next 7 or 8 miles, playing air guitar, singing, and I really have no idea why (maybe all the sugar in those Gu's & sport beans finally caught up to me?). (The greatest running music in the world? Grand Funk, but it's gotta be live, any concert from their heyday. Trust me on this.) Even the top-of-foot pain went from nagging to barely there. I would get a little more fatigued later in that loop but was able to carry that momentum through the rest of my race. My main goal for the day was to finish, secondary goal was to break 13 hours and a dream race would be to break 12; I finished in 10:57, 2nd in Age Group and around 12th overall. I flat-out nailed this race; it was a truly epic day.
NEXT DAY THOUGHTS
Seeing the 100 milers throughout the day was really was a great thing because I literallly had not one single reason to complain all day long. Whenever things got bad I would look at or think of one of the 100 milers and think wow, I've got it easy. Only doing 1/2 of what they're doing. Only 50 miles. Going into the day and throughout the day I would look at how far I'd gone and think about how it would be if I was at that point of a 100, which was a great little mental trick that put things in perspective and brought me back into the moment. Will I try 100 in the future? Oh yeah.
My 3rd loop ended up being almost as fast as the first. Stomach turned a little sour towards the end. Weather was perfect, upper 50s & cloudy, took one e-cap every hour which was just right for the conditions. Ran the downhills with these little bitty steps & tried to avoid a breaking motion (and only sorta bombed a couple of downhills), as a result the quads didn't take much of a beating at all, at least compared to previous trail races I've done. Volunteers were fantastic, aid stations were well-stocked.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Michigan Trail Running Vacation Article--Pt. 3
In some ways, my summer was bright. I'd survived a brutal fight with a spring trail marathon, made it through 40 miles in 8.5 hours of insanely hot running during my first loop ultra, stayed out of jail and re-discovered my swimming mojo with many hours along the buoys at Holly Recreation Area's Heron Lake. In other ways the summer was a dark one. Work was a bear (though I'm still extremely thankful to even have a job), I had/have wounds all over my feet from bashing my feet into various things & breaking bones & trying to run too far, training didn't seem to be going anywhere at all, the daily sirens from fire dept. calls to hundreds of arson fires all over the city and way, way too many murders (4 times the national average) throughout the city (still ranked in the top 3 or 4 worst cities in America to live in) bringing me down...I had to get out, get away, get far away...
So my final vacation of the summer season came at just the right time. There would be 10 days of running/hiking for me to do that would end on Labor Day, and the goal was to try to get way up into pure Michigan, take some pictures, somehow turn those day hikes & runs into a super-compensation buildup that would hopefully get me into enough shape to try and half-ass my way through a fall marathon. It was my only hope.
The vacation started on Saturday 8/28 with the Crim 10 Miler in Flint, where I was part of a record-setting sea of bodies moving through the sunny city in search of fitness and good times. Saw my dad, saw several other people I knew and yeah it was great, but I had a Very Large state to explore so I wrapped it up, packed it up and hopped on 75 north. My route took me north for an hour, then west on state road 10 over to my beloved stomping grounds of Nirvana, MI. After the Crim I needed to ice my legs in the insanely cold Pere Marquette river (now THAT's an ice bath). The rough initial plan was to start north a bit, maybe do a couple more pieces of the NCT and then head up to the promised land--the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. But the key factor in this, which is very important--just have a couple of vague ideas of where to go, but otherwise have nothing worked out in advance, completely wing it, figuring it out as I go along, and hope for the best.
Sunday 8/29 I visited the US Forest Service station in Baldwin for some maps (I would end up with probably 25 maps by the end of the vacation). Using this info, I went a few minutes north on 37 and did a tired & tiring 7 mile trail slog on dead legs...but it was sunny, warm, beautiful & I was on trails. It was a nice recovery after the Crim and just the right kind of calm intro to the vacation. I had large miles planned for the week and didn't want to overdo it at the start. Starting from the Freesoil leg of the North Country Trail I once again found a well-maintained, very hikable/runnable trail with absolutely nobody anywhere in sight. Bugs were there, but not terrible.
Monday the 30th I headed north for the Mackinaw Bridge & crossed it slowly (man is it windy up there). Once across, I stopped at the visitors center for more maps and started working my way west on 2. Amazing how much it feels like a different country once you hit the UP. Got about half an hour along at which point I started going crazy and needed to get out for a hike/run. The very first possible opportunity was at Brevort Lake campground (through which ran the UP section of the North Country Trail), where I parked & did about 10 miles of moderately difficult trails. Didn't see a soul. Aahhh. I was now, officially, completely and totally on vacation, for real. Got a couple of nice pics but they didn't really capture the awesomeness of the area. (Did see a nice Trail Donut though...)
After the hike I went for a swim in Brevort Lake (didn't see one person or boat on the lake either), then continued on towards a place to camp for the night. After a local UP Pastie for dinner I wound up at Fox River State Forest campground, just north of Seney and really out in the boondocks of Northern Michigan, which is exactly where I wanted to be (had the entire campground to myself). There were a lot of bugs, but the river was nothing short of magic, almost caught fat little trout (I'm meant to have them shake the lure 100% of the time) and slept in some of the most complete silence I've ever known.
Got up the next morning to do an excursion on what I thought would be a well-marked Fox River Trail but instead ended up doing a couple hours on dirt two-track roads that were clearly used very, very rarely. I saw bear/wolf droppings & bear/wolf tracks all over the place, but no people, no cars, no 4 wheelers, no houses or cabins, just miles & miles of nothing. Good stuff!
Back on the road and heading west on 28; I needed to cover ground & get over to the Porcupine State Forest. It took a good 3 hours to get across the UP. Frequently I looked out my window and thought God I wish I lived right there, how cool would it be to live there, man I bet this area gets a Ton of snow but so what and how awesome would that be to be able to run that road every day, etc.
About 5pm after a full afternoon's drive I reached the entrance to the Porkies, got another map and was told by the front desk gal that if yeah I wanted to do a quickie hike that had the biggest bang for the buck I should do the Escarpment Trail a couple miles up the road. First I drove past that and up to the top of the outlook for Lake Of The Clouds and oh my goodness, that was absolutely a highlight of the trip. What a stunning view, with almost criminally easy access.
Then I drove back down to the trailhead for the Escarpment Trail just like she told me and soon found myself on what would be the hardest trail I've ever been on in my life (and I've been on some doozies). It was absolutely straight up, straight down, rocks/roots everywhere and all kinds of opportunities to snap tendons, break bones or flat-out die. The cliffs I treaded along were wildly severe and wow was I glad I was sober. It's amazing how quickly I got completely exhausted. This was only day 4 of my vacation so I couldn't overdo it...but I felt for the first time like I was getting some serious workouts & training.
Followed up that absolutely brutal 7 miler with a swim in the desperately cold water of Lake Superior and wound up the day in my second totally empty campground in two days, at Lost Creek campground deep in the heart of Porkies. But this place wasn't quiet; I heard all kinds of critters scurrying through the woods, coyotes and/or others hooting and a hollering and having themselves a concert in the wilderness. Pure Michigan indeed.
Next day I set off on tired but healthy legs for a 3 hour hike to the top of Government Peak & back (lots of bear droppings & tracks, but strangely very little actual wildlife at all and only a handful of people). Strolled by Lost Lake....
Afterward I shortly napped & went over to Summit Peak for an afternoon hike & the opportunity to climb the lookout tower & see a high-up, stunning panorama of northern Michigan forest. This view in the fall with full tree colors would be just impossibly beautiful; too bad I was there 3 weeks early. I can't believe more people don't know about this place.
Next hike was almost an afterthought, a little interim stroll through the woods at Overlooked Falls and Little Carp River Trail. Quiet, peaceful, and another highlight of my trip. Cameras can't capture it accurately, but I tried with mine.
Then I made my way over to the western edge & the other showcase of the park, Presque Isle. I felt like I was exploring a different planet when skeddadling around the area, taking pics of the falls & the rocks & cliffs & formations & rivers & rapids & oh my goodness what an impossibly incredible place.
Then after an end-of-day soak....
...I soon realized I'd been on my feet hiking/climbing/jogging for nearly 7 hours and needed to come up with a game plan. I figured it was time to get a hotel room for one night, recharge my batteries (as well as those of my Garmin, my mp3 player, my cellphone, etc.) so I did a quick drive over to Bessemer, got a room for the night and regrouped. I'm not a TV guy, but it was an interesting area because the nightly news stations were from Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota; the next day I spent some time listening to a Native American radio station. I've been an American for 40 years but had only just then been listening to a Native American station for the first time that week.
Started working my way back east with a plan to camp somewhere near Munising and hike Grand Island the next morning. Problem was, when I went to the local US Forestry office in town for some more maps they told me it was very likely that if I took the ferry over to the Island, I might get stranded due to the high waves forecast for the next day which could shut down the ferry. So I employed plan B and headed for Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.
After setting up camp at the Beaver Lake Campground & doing a little fishing in the namesake lake I decided to do a quick little jaunt down to the lake to get a pic of the sunset...but then when I headed back it got pitch dark within minutes and I got a little lost, which I didn't think was possible (it was an out-&-back trail), and ended up in the pitch dark of the woods without a flashlight. I mean, absolute dark. Lost. It was a bad feeling. I ended up using the light of my cellphone to work my way back close enough to see headlamps in the distance (so glad there were other campers at this campground) and slept in my car while we got a major, massive rainstorm. Besides the realization that I dodged a major bullet (I was in the woods in the pitch dark alone with no raingear just prior to a major rainstorm and no family/friends had any idea of where I was), I gained a new appreciation for the fact that they sure get some intense weather around the UP...and for how dark it gets on cloudy nights in the woods.
Next day I started west on the Pictured Rocks trail, hoping I could do 4-5 hours on cliff-hugging trails after about 7 hours the day before. By now I was caught up on my unofficial, unstated goal of approximately 10 miles per day, at appx. 60 miles through 6 days and ready to add to it. Legs were fatigued but felt strong and solid under me. Headed west on the trail for about 1.5 hours, getting better & better pics along the way, looking more & more forward to what I would see around the next curve and through the next opening when bam, my camera died on me. Not out of batteries, it just broke, quit working, the automatic lens quit focusing, unfixable. It was devastating. I was literally 200 yards from the most spectacular part of one of the greatest parks in America and the highlight of my entire summer of trails...and I'd have no way to capture any of it. I couldn't believe it. This was the luck of a broke gambler and...was this my karmic payback for having found my way back to the campsite in the pitch-dark last night? Was I swearing too much while trying to find my way back? Hmmm... Anyway, after hating technology with every fiber of my being for 1/2 an hour I finally got over it, got my head back together and continued on, marveling at this absolute treasure of a park and wondering how it couldn't be ranked up there with the most popular areas in this country (probably because it's too far away from everything; we find 'Inconvenience' a challenging obstacle to overcome these days). These photos were about all I could get...
After this particular hike/run, the UP phase of my experience was done so I started to head back south for the second weekend near Baldwin. Saturday was a 16 miler of mostly running in the rain on what's called Big M (for Manistee) mountain bike trails. Since it was raining on & off I only saw a couple of bikers, and was able to react in plenty of time so I didn't get run over. These trails were hilly, beautiful and rainy; I got drenched, but I was feeling strong, able to cover many hills and long distances with little fatigue. I was getting in shape, for real. Only wished I could get some pictures of the place.
Last trail of the trip was along the Eastern ridge trail above the Manistee River. Hilly yes, but also with panoramic views that were yet another major highlight of the vacation. Just gorgeous views. Only two drawbacks: one, there were a Lot of people (which should not have surprised me because it was Labor Day weekend), and two I had no goddamn camera to capture any of those views. Afterward I soaked my legs in the river, poured my very spent body into the car, tallied the mileage at 109 for 9 days and headed back to reality.
When back in that 'reality' that first morning I distinctly saw several actually Miserable people, who will likely never bother to go up north, beyond the city, to hike any of the trails that I was lucky enough to find and spend so much time upon, even though those areas are a mere 1/2 day's drive from Detroit, from Flint, from Saginaw. Maybe they don't have the money, or the opportunity due to commitments keeping them downstate, or maybe they just don't care. They'll stay here, downstate within the cities where houses are crumbling, solace is found inside lottery tickets and the only views come from electronic screens. It is depressing when I think about it that way, but those things are out of my control and I quickly thank my lucky stars with everything I've got becuase I've seen what Paradise looks like--it's not a liquor store, not a city, and not on a screen. Paradise is a trail, and that trail is long.
So my final vacation of the summer season came at just the right time. There would be 10 days of running/hiking for me to do that would end on Labor Day, and the goal was to try to get way up into pure Michigan, take some pictures, somehow turn those day hikes & runs into a super-compensation buildup that would hopefully get me into enough shape to try and half-ass my way through a fall marathon. It was my only hope.
The vacation started on Saturday 8/28 with the Crim 10 Miler in Flint, where I was part of a record-setting sea of bodies moving through the sunny city in search of fitness and good times. Saw my dad, saw several other people I knew and yeah it was great, but I had a Very Large state to explore so I wrapped it up, packed it up and hopped on 75 north. My route took me north for an hour, then west on state road 10 over to my beloved stomping grounds of Nirvana, MI. After the Crim I needed to ice my legs in the insanely cold Pere Marquette river (now THAT's an ice bath). The rough initial plan was to start north a bit, maybe do a couple more pieces of the NCT and then head up to the promised land--the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. But the key factor in this, which is very important--just have a couple of vague ideas of where to go, but otherwise have nothing worked out in advance, completely wing it, figuring it out as I go along, and hope for the best.
Sunday 8/29 I visited the US Forest Service station in Baldwin for some maps (I would end up with probably 25 maps by the end of the vacation). Using this info, I went a few minutes north on 37 and did a tired & tiring 7 mile trail slog on dead legs...but it was sunny, warm, beautiful & I was on trails. It was a nice recovery after the Crim and just the right kind of calm intro to the vacation. I had large miles planned for the week and didn't want to overdo it at the start. Starting from the Freesoil leg of the North Country Trail I once again found a well-maintained, very hikable/runnable trail with absolutely nobody anywhere in sight. Bugs were there, but not terrible.
Monday the 30th I headed north for the Mackinaw Bridge & crossed it slowly (man is it windy up there). Once across, I stopped at the visitors center for more maps and started working my way west on 2. Amazing how much it feels like a different country once you hit the UP. Got about half an hour along at which point I started going crazy and needed to get out for a hike/run. The very first possible opportunity was at Brevort Lake campground (through which ran the UP section of the North Country Trail), where I parked & did about 10 miles of moderately difficult trails. Didn't see a soul. Aahhh. I was now, officially, completely and totally on vacation, for real. Got a couple of nice pics but they didn't really capture the awesomeness of the area. (Did see a nice Trail Donut though...)
After the hike I went for a swim in Brevort Lake (didn't see one person or boat on the lake either), then continued on towards a place to camp for the night. After a local UP Pastie for dinner I wound up at Fox River State Forest campground, just north of Seney and really out in the boondocks of Northern Michigan, which is exactly where I wanted to be (had the entire campground to myself). There were a lot of bugs, but the river was nothing short of magic, almost caught fat little trout (I'm meant to have them shake the lure 100% of the time) and slept in some of the most complete silence I've ever known.
Got up the next morning to do an excursion on what I thought would be a well-marked Fox River Trail but instead ended up doing a couple hours on dirt two-track roads that were clearly used very, very rarely. I saw bear/wolf droppings & bear/wolf tracks all over the place, but no people, no cars, no 4 wheelers, no houses or cabins, just miles & miles of nothing. Good stuff!
Back on the road and heading west on 28; I needed to cover ground & get over to the Porcupine State Forest. It took a good 3 hours to get across the UP. Frequently I looked out my window and thought God I wish I lived right there, how cool would it be to live there, man I bet this area gets a Ton of snow but so what and how awesome would that be to be able to run that road every day, etc.
About 5pm after a full afternoon's drive I reached the entrance to the Porkies, got another map and was told by the front desk gal that if yeah I wanted to do a quickie hike that had the biggest bang for the buck I should do the Escarpment Trail a couple miles up the road. First I drove past that and up to the top of the outlook for Lake Of The Clouds and oh my goodness, that was absolutely a highlight of the trip. What a stunning view, with almost criminally easy access.
Then I drove back down to the trailhead for the Escarpment Trail just like she told me and soon found myself on what would be the hardest trail I've ever been on in my life (and I've been on some doozies). It was absolutely straight up, straight down, rocks/roots everywhere and all kinds of opportunities to snap tendons, break bones or flat-out die. The cliffs I treaded along were wildly severe and wow was I glad I was sober. It's amazing how quickly I got completely exhausted. This was only day 4 of my vacation so I couldn't overdo it...but I felt for the first time like I was getting some serious workouts & training.
Followed up that absolutely brutal 7 miler with a swim in the desperately cold water of Lake Superior and wound up the day in my second totally empty campground in two days, at Lost Creek campground deep in the heart of Porkies. But this place wasn't quiet; I heard all kinds of critters scurrying through the woods, coyotes and/or others hooting and a hollering and having themselves a concert in the wilderness. Pure Michigan indeed.
Next day I set off on tired but healthy legs for a 3 hour hike to the top of Government Peak & back (lots of bear droppings & tracks, but strangely very little actual wildlife at all and only a handful of people). Strolled by Lost Lake....
Afterward I shortly napped & went over to Summit Peak for an afternoon hike & the opportunity to climb the lookout tower & see a high-up, stunning panorama of northern Michigan forest. This view in the fall with full tree colors would be just impossibly beautiful; too bad I was there 3 weeks early. I can't believe more people don't know about this place.
Next hike was almost an afterthought, a little interim stroll through the woods at Overlooked Falls and Little Carp River Trail. Quiet, peaceful, and another highlight of my trip. Cameras can't capture it accurately, but I tried with mine.
Then I made my way over to the western edge & the other showcase of the park, Presque Isle. I felt like I was exploring a different planet when skeddadling around the area, taking pics of the falls & the rocks & cliffs & formations & rivers & rapids & oh my goodness what an impossibly incredible place.
Then after an end-of-day soak....
...I soon realized I'd been on my feet hiking/climbing/jogging for nearly 7 hours and needed to come up with a game plan. I figured it was time to get a hotel room for one night, recharge my batteries (as well as those of my Garmin, my mp3 player, my cellphone, etc.) so I did a quick drive over to Bessemer, got a room for the night and regrouped. I'm not a TV guy, but it was an interesting area because the nightly news stations were from Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota; the next day I spent some time listening to a Native American radio station. I've been an American for 40 years but had only just then been listening to a Native American station for the first time that week.
Started working my way back east with a plan to camp somewhere near Munising and hike Grand Island the next morning. Problem was, when I went to the local US Forestry office in town for some more maps they told me it was very likely that if I took the ferry over to the Island, I might get stranded due to the high waves forecast for the next day which could shut down the ferry. So I employed plan B and headed for Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore.
After setting up camp at the Beaver Lake Campground & doing a little fishing in the namesake lake I decided to do a quick little jaunt down to the lake to get a pic of the sunset...but then when I headed back it got pitch dark within minutes and I got a little lost, which I didn't think was possible (it was an out-&-back trail), and ended up in the pitch dark of the woods without a flashlight. I mean, absolute dark. Lost. It was a bad feeling. I ended up using the light of my cellphone to work my way back close enough to see headlamps in the distance (so glad there were other campers at this campground) and slept in my car while we got a major, massive rainstorm. Besides the realization that I dodged a major bullet (I was in the woods in the pitch dark alone with no raingear just prior to a major rainstorm and no family/friends had any idea of where I was), I gained a new appreciation for the fact that they sure get some intense weather around the UP...and for how dark it gets on cloudy nights in the woods.
Next day I started west on the Pictured Rocks trail, hoping I could do 4-5 hours on cliff-hugging trails after about 7 hours the day before. By now I was caught up on my unofficial, unstated goal of approximately 10 miles per day, at appx. 60 miles through 6 days and ready to add to it. Legs were fatigued but felt strong and solid under me. Headed west on the trail for about 1.5 hours, getting better & better pics along the way, looking more & more forward to what I would see around the next curve and through the next opening when bam, my camera died on me. Not out of batteries, it just broke, quit working, the automatic lens quit focusing, unfixable. It was devastating. I was literally 200 yards from the most spectacular part of one of the greatest parks in America and the highlight of my entire summer of trails...and I'd have no way to capture any of it. I couldn't believe it. This was the luck of a broke gambler and...was this my karmic payback for having found my way back to the campsite in the pitch-dark last night? Was I swearing too much while trying to find my way back? Hmmm... Anyway, after hating technology with every fiber of my being for 1/2 an hour I finally got over it, got my head back together and continued on, marveling at this absolute treasure of a park and wondering how it couldn't be ranked up there with the most popular areas in this country (probably because it's too far away from everything; we find 'Inconvenience' a challenging obstacle to overcome these days). These photos were about all I could get...
After this particular hike/run, the UP phase of my experience was done so I started to head back south for the second weekend near Baldwin. Saturday was a 16 miler of mostly running in the rain on what's called Big M (for Manistee) mountain bike trails. Since it was raining on & off I only saw a couple of bikers, and was able to react in plenty of time so I didn't get run over. These trails were hilly, beautiful and rainy; I got drenched, but I was feeling strong, able to cover many hills and long distances with little fatigue. I was getting in shape, for real. Only wished I could get some pictures of the place.
Last trail of the trip was along the Eastern ridge trail above the Manistee River. Hilly yes, but also with panoramic views that were yet another major highlight of the vacation. Just gorgeous views. Only two drawbacks: one, there were a Lot of people (which should not have surprised me because it was Labor Day weekend), and two I had no goddamn camera to capture any of those views. Afterward I soaked my legs in the river, poured my very spent body into the car, tallied the mileage at 109 for 9 days and headed back to reality.
When back in that 'reality' that first morning I distinctly saw several actually Miserable people, who will likely never bother to go up north, beyond the city, to hike any of the trails that I was lucky enough to find and spend so much time upon, even though those areas are a mere 1/2 day's drive from Detroit, from Flint, from Saginaw. Maybe they don't have the money, or the opportunity due to commitments keeping them downstate, or maybe they just don't care. They'll stay here, downstate within the cities where houses are crumbling, solace is found inside lottery tickets and the only views come from electronic screens. It is depressing when I think about it that way, but those things are out of my control and I quickly thank my lucky stars with everything I've got becuase I've seen what Paradise looks like--it's not a liquor store, not a city, and not on a screen. Paradise is a trail, and that trail is long.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Michigan Trail Running Vacation Article--Pt. 2
Part 2 of my Summer Of Trails led me over to the west side of the state for a series of runs/hikes upon a long portion of the North Country Trail. When completed, this trail-in-progress will lead from the Dakotas all the way to New York state (many sections of this trail are still in the "proposed" stage). I'm neither ambitious nor in-shape enough to even think about doing the entire thing, but I took a nice chunk out of it with several days in Manistee National Forest.
A great home base is near the town of Baldwin, a nice little oasis about 1.5 hours north of Grand Rapids with a few options for lodging and considerably more camping opportunities. However, I'm cheating--family cabin in Nirvana, MI 5 minutes east of the town. Our place is on the Pere Marquette river, which has some of the coldest water on earth (best post-excursion ice baths anywhere). But most importantly, this area is approximately right in the middle of a whopping 126 mile stretch of the NCT.
Whereas my earlier excursion to Huron National Forest led me to a series of loop trails, this time I was dealing with one very long, linear trail with multiple trailheads to start/finish at. Basically I would park, head north for an hour, return to my car, head south for an hour and return to my car again. It was nice to never be too far from my car & it's cooler full of water/supplies, and of course there's the safety matter. For solo trips you never want to get too terribly far from your ride to the hospital (God forbid).
My trips started/ended at 76th Street, Bowman Bridge, Timber Creek and Freesoil Rd. Each run/hike was about 3 hours in length...and I barely scratched the surface. There are additional trailheads to the south near White Cloud and many, many more to the north near Manistee--and that's just for the NCT. If I wanted to get off of that 126 miler and check out some of the other non-NCT trails in the area, there are the Manistee River Trail (10 miles), the "Big M" (37 miles), Crystal Valley/Hungerford Lake/McKenzie Trail (51 miles), Nordhouse Dunes on the shore of Lake Michigan (14 miles) and Marzinski Horse Trail (20 miles). I could probably spend about a month and never do the same trail twice. (Unless I suddenly got into much better shape...) To think I spent all that time and sweat out there and only tapped about one fifth of these trail resources is, well, humbling and bewildering.
But back to the NCT. The terrain of this particular stretch is, honestly, pretty tame. Not too many hills, not too many roots, rocks or technical sections. You can't even imagine all the trees, from oaks and elms and maples to birch and towering jackpines and everything in between.
This is definitely fern country. There are swampy areas but also bridges for some of the lower spots so my shoes never got wet. The trail gets sandy in spots but mainly it's pure wooded single-track, well-maintained, and there are blue markings on trees to let you know you're still on the right path. These trails present a great opportunity to go long. The trailheads are spaced anywhere from 5 miles to 19 miles apart, and there are about 14 different trailheads where you can park & start from.
If you want trails that have almost no trace of human contact (except for the blue markings on the trees), here's your mecca. Having spent about 12 hours on various parts of this trail, I only saw 3 people the entire time. Another sign of how little human contact these trails have can be found in the incredible lack of garbage. Usually if you cover that much terrain you'll see at least some garbage, but I couldn't fill one hand with the trash I saw. It's a remarkable testament to the volunteers who created & maintain these trails, but I think it also speaks to just how little use they get.
A great home base is near the town of Baldwin, a nice little oasis about 1.5 hours north of Grand Rapids with a few options for lodging and considerably more camping opportunities. However, I'm cheating--family cabin in Nirvana, MI 5 minutes east of the town. Our place is on the Pere Marquette river, which has some of the coldest water on earth (best post-excursion ice baths anywhere). But most importantly, this area is approximately right in the middle of a whopping 126 mile stretch of the NCT.
Whereas my earlier excursion to Huron National Forest led me to a series of loop trails, this time I was dealing with one very long, linear trail with multiple trailheads to start/finish at. Basically I would park, head north for an hour, return to my car, head south for an hour and return to my car again. It was nice to never be too far from my car & it's cooler full of water/supplies, and of course there's the safety matter. For solo trips you never want to get too terribly far from your ride to the hospital (God forbid).
My trips started/ended at 76th Street, Bowman Bridge, Timber Creek and Freesoil Rd. Each run/hike was about 3 hours in length...and I barely scratched the surface. There are additional trailheads to the south near White Cloud and many, many more to the north near Manistee--and that's just for the NCT. If I wanted to get off of that 126 miler and check out some of the other non-NCT trails in the area, there are the Manistee River Trail (10 miles), the "Big M" (37 miles), Crystal Valley/Hungerford Lake/McKenzie Trail (51 miles), Nordhouse Dunes on the shore of Lake Michigan (14 miles) and Marzinski Horse Trail (20 miles). I could probably spend about a month and never do the same trail twice. (Unless I suddenly got into much better shape...) To think I spent all that time and sweat out there and only tapped about one fifth of these trail resources is, well, humbling and bewildering.
But back to the NCT. The terrain of this particular stretch is, honestly, pretty tame. Not too many hills, not too many roots, rocks or technical sections. You can't even imagine all the trees, from oaks and elms and maples to birch and towering jackpines and everything in between.
This is definitely fern country. There are swampy areas but also bridges for some of the lower spots so my shoes never got wet. The trail gets sandy in spots but mainly it's pure wooded single-track, well-maintained, and there are blue markings on trees to let you know you're still on the right path. These trails present a great opportunity to go long. The trailheads are spaced anywhere from 5 miles to 19 miles apart, and there are about 14 different trailheads where you can park & start from.
If you want trails that have almost no trace of human contact (except for the blue markings on the trees), here's your mecca. Having spent about 12 hours on various parts of this trail, I only saw 3 people the entire time. Another sign of how little human contact these trails have can be found in the incredible lack of garbage. Usually if you cover that much terrain you'll see at least some garbage, but I couldn't fill one hand with the trash I saw. It's a remarkable testament to the volunteers who created & maintain these trails, but I think it also speaks to just how little use they get.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Hawthorne Half Day RR
This race had been on my radar since the fall, and by all indications I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to go longer than 50k (my goal was 40 miles). I've been wanting to do a loop ultra, but didn't really want to do one on a track (too short, too paved...not that there's anything wrong with a track ultra, I'm just more of a trail guy). It doesn't seem that there are very many loop ultras in America, so when I found this one I knew it was time to jump in.
The Hawthorne Half Day is a 12 hour loop ultra on a 5k trail course at Hawthorne State Park near Terre Haute, IN. Apparently the race originally started as strictly a Relay but expanded to a solo/ultra division about 5 years ago, and 2010 was the first year that they also had a Walking division. The course had a few small but legit hills to keep you honest, a couple of short paved sections, some nice lake views and overall the course was pretty flat with untechnical two-track trails. Everything about the race was perfect...except for the heat & humidity. As we gathered at the start it was about 75 degrees at 7am, and it was so humid I had to use my windshield wipers while driving to the park (even though it wasn't raining). With temps forecast to go into the 90's I knew the day would actually be very little about running and have everything to do with the big three--Hydration, Fueling, Electrolytes.
I started out slow, and then eased back from there. I was drinking early & often. 30 minutes in I was completely drenched with sweat. Took an Endurolyte every hour on the hour (which probably wasn't often enough), ate my sport beans with the electrolytes in them, ate salty foods at the start-finish area every chance I got, drank & drank & drank, and sweated, worked in some gatorade, kept my time at aid stations as short as possible, kept plugging away. A couple/few hours in with temps already into the mid/upper 80's I started to see people dealing with cramps, and as it turned out even the relay runners were struggling; the final mileages of the leading teams were way down compared to past years.
A little over 4 hours in I noticed something interesting--from the waist down I was getting kind of tired/sore/fatigued, but from the waist up I felt great. My eating/drinking strategies appeared to be working. I spaced apart my food intake as best I could so that I was getting 200-300 calories an hour (but not all at once, so that my stomach could process it) and I was probably averaging at least 30 ounces of fluids each hour. Since I heard there might be thunderstorms I left the mp3 player in the car and I'm really glad I did, because I got the chance to strike up conversations with some fantastic people. One of the other things I wanted to do going into this race was to be positive, upbeat and supportive at every opportunity. I was all about Running Happy and not only did it help my cause tremendously, it just made the day as a whole more enjoyable.
Still...spending hours & hours running in the equivalent of hot chicken soup can take it's toll (I heard the heat index reached 110), and a little over 6 hours in (new 50k pr!) I started wondering just how much longer my day would be able to last. Several of the people I spoke with told me they had to dial back their goals from 60 miles to 50 miles, from 50 to 40, or 55 miles to 55k, etc. I still felt like I had 40 miles in the bag, even when I hit what I think was that mysterious "second wall" at 35 miles. I felt like warm, wet crappy crap for several minutes, trudged through it and then got a new wind. 36, 37, 38 miles, I felt like I could keep going another couple hours and even started to seriously ponder whether to push on towards 50 miles...well my left foot must've heard my brain thinking those dreadful thoughts and decided to send a message, at which point I got kind of a sharp tweak on the outside of my foot, felt like a mild sprain, so I knew 50 would have to wait. I finished the 40 miles in 8:34, got my cool medal, can't wait to go next year, and found a whole new appreciation for hydration, fueling & electrolytes.
p.s. I was a bit hyponatremic at the end, which was probably the result of consuming about 250-300 ounces of water in 8 hours. I really felt like I was getting a lot of salt throughout the day, but obviously it still wasn't nearly enough. On a day as hot as this I'm thinking a salt tablet every 1/2 hour instead of every hour would've been better, but, alas, that might've been too much? I'll have to research that. Another thing that I did throughout (probably since I wasn't distracted by my mp3 player) was pay attention to my pace and especially my running form. I think I can get sloppy over long distances, and paying regular attention to my form helped me carry on an hour longer than I ever have before.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Michigan Trail Running Vacation Article--Pt. 1
A stressful, manic month of work left me frazzled & sick to death of Corporate America, and it was time to find myself again deep in the heart of northern Michigan. Mission accomplished.
After going north out of Flint for just over an hour I headed northeast out of Tawas City and deep into the heart of Huron National Forest for three days of trail running. My first foray into the woods was at Corsair hiking and x-country ski trails. The sign actually said there were exactly a total of 26.2 miles of trails, which of course made it the perfect spot to start a running weekend. My map indicated that there were easy, moderate and most difficult stretches. Those designations were for the skiers, but I would agree that the Most Difficult stretches weren't particularly easy (read: hilly). I fell in love with the place immediately; very runnable two-track through woods, woods & more woods.
Saw a couple deer, and zero people. Did a nice 9 miler to get my legs under me, then did a quick drive over to Harrisville for a swim in Lake Huron and some dinner.
That night I camped at Horseshoe Lake campground (caught a couple nice bass from the shore) and set off the next morning for Hoist Lake foot trails. My achilles had a knot in it which would dog me the entire day, but it didn't hurt, I knew it was temporary and it didn't really affect my running. This was mainly single track with varied cushy terrain,
again hilly and only when I was near the 3 lakes where the campground was did I see any people. Otherwise, I had the entire forest to myself.
Ran about 12 miles (out of a possible 20+), didn't want to push it with the heel-issue.
Later that day I visited Reid Lake foot trails & campground, would've loved to run these 8+ miles of two-track but instead just did about a two-mile hike to see the lake, drop a line in the water & get a feel for the place. So peaceful, serene, it just epitomized northern Michigan. I then drove to Jewel Lake for a swim, and that night I camped at Pine River campground, which required a long, bumpy 2 mile drive on dirt roads and was well worth it. The best places on earth have to be earned, right? They used to grow rainbow trout in this section of river 70 years ago. I literally saw a hundred fish jump in the span of 15 minutes, I think baby rainbows or small brook trout. Did a two mile hike through more dense forest at sunset, which was yet another highlight of a trip filled with highlights.
Woke up the next morning with miraculously no more achilles issues, and headed north to Negwegon State Park, which required another long, slow drive on remote sandy road. At this park there are two loops of woodsy two-track, the shorter Potowatomi which runs along the lakeshore and gets really sandy (almost un-runnably so) and the longer Algonquin. I did both, and then did most of the Algonquin again because, after 2.5 hours of running, I felt like a million bucks and didn't want to stop. Those last 1.5 hours were the most enjoyable running I think I've ever done. It was effortless, I was in the zone, truly zen running at it's finest. Maybe it's because it was fairly flat and hills tend to chew me up & wear me out, maybe it was the remoteness of the area, maybe I was on endorphins overload. Generally it was exceedingly runnable,
other times it was Dude Where's My Trail (hint: it's right in the middle of this shot)
and it got swampy in spots. I wouldn't change it for the world. Ran 19 miles that I will never forget. Afterwards I took a short walk to the lake for a quick dip before heading back home.
I wish my three day weekend could've been doubled because there were many other areas that I had to save for another trip (I skipped Highbanks, and Eagle Run that goes along the Au Sable river, etc.). But it was a great introduction and I learned a lot: for example, if you're going to do three days of camping & trail running when temps are in the 80's, you must have a nearby water source for post-run swims. This will hopefully be the first of many more trips up to the greatest unknown trail running mecca in America: Northern Michigan.
After going north out of Flint for just over an hour I headed northeast out of Tawas City and deep into the heart of Huron National Forest for three days of trail running. My first foray into the woods was at Corsair hiking and x-country ski trails. The sign actually said there were exactly a total of 26.2 miles of trails, which of course made it the perfect spot to start a running weekend. My map indicated that there were easy, moderate and most difficult stretches. Those designations were for the skiers, but I would agree that the Most Difficult stretches weren't particularly easy (read: hilly). I fell in love with the place immediately; very runnable two-track through woods, woods & more woods.
Saw a couple deer, and zero people. Did a nice 9 miler to get my legs under me, then did a quick drive over to Harrisville for a swim in Lake Huron and some dinner.
That night I camped at Horseshoe Lake campground (caught a couple nice bass from the shore) and set off the next morning for Hoist Lake foot trails. My achilles had a knot in it which would dog me the entire day, but it didn't hurt, I knew it was temporary and it didn't really affect my running. This was mainly single track with varied cushy terrain,
again hilly and only when I was near the 3 lakes where the campground was did I see any people. Otherwise, I had the entire forest to myself.
Ran about 12 miles (out of a possible 20+), didn't want to push it with the heel-issue.
Later that day I visited Reid Lake foot trails & campground, would've loved to run these 8+ miles of two-track but instead just did about a two-mile hike to see the lake, drop a line in the water & get a feel for the place. So peaceful, serene, it just epitomized northern Michigan. I then drove to Jewel Lake for a swim, and that night I camped at Pine River campground, which required a long, bumpy 2 mile drive on dirt roads and was well worth it. The best places on earth have to be earned, right? They used to grow rainbow trout in this section of river 70 years ago. I literally saw a hundred fish jump in the span of 15 minutes, I think baby rainbows or small brook trout. Did a two mile hike through more dense forest at sunset, which was yet another highlight of a trip filled with highlights.
Woke up the next morning with miraculously no more achilles issues, and headed north to Negwegon State Park, which required another long, slow drive on remote sandy road. At this park there are two loops of woodsy two-track, the shorter Potowatomi which runs along the lakeshore and gets really sandy (almost un-runnably so) and the longer Algonquin. I did both, and then did most of the Algonquin again because, after 2.5 hours of running, I felt like a million bucks and didn't want to stop. Those last 1.5 hours were the most enjoyable running I think I've ever done. It was effortless, I was in the zone, truly zen running at it's finest. Maybe it's because it was fairly flat and hills tend to chew me up & wear me out, maybe it was the remoteness of the area, maybe I was on endorphins overload. Generally it was exceedingly runnable,
other times it was Dude Where's My Trail (hint: it's right in the middle of this shot)
and it got swampy in spots. I wouldn't change it for the world. Ran 19 miles that I will never forget. Afterwards I took a short walk to the lake for a quick dip before heading back home.
I wish my three day weekend could've been doubled because there were many other areas that I had to save for another trip (I skipped Highbanks, and Eagle Run that goes along the Au Sable river, etc.). But it was a great introduction and I learned a lot: for example, if you're going to do three days of camping & trail running when temps are in the 80's, you must have a nearby water source for post-run swims. This will hopefully be the first of many more trips up to the greatest unknown trail running mecca in America: Northern Michigan.
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