Marquette Trail 50 Race Report

It’s hard not to trip on a slippery rock or tree root when you’re running on a technical trail at the top of a rock cliff next to Lake Superior. You should be gazing at the path ahead, but you can’t help but marvel at a lake so vast that it may as well be a sea. But what’s a little blood when you’re running next to something so majestic that you can’t help, but let out a “whoa!” at the first sight of the sky blue water meeting large, ancient grey boulders? The breeze off the shoreline filled my nostrils with remarkably clean, fresh air that made the movement of my legs feel like an effortless dance and I was overcome with the feeling of gratitude for being alive to experience all this. I hardly even thought about the fact that I was running alone, and would run alone for almost the whole race, because I didn’t feel lonely while with such astonishing natural company. I didn’t even much care when I took a hard, belly-first fall onto rocky terrain which left scrapes on my ribs and legs and an annoying cut on my thumb - or when I twisted my ankle in a maze of stones, which could only put a hobble in my stride for a measly half mile.




After all, I vowed to take this race easy as it was only a training run for my 100 mile race next month. I kept my effort level at about 75% of what I thought my race pace might be for the course. I told my crew (Travis and Stephanie) to expect a finish in the 9-10 hour range based on a guess of what the difficulty of the course would be. I simply tried to enjoy the staircase climbs, steep ascents and descents on barren rock-bluffs, and the more familiar tangle of roots along single track trail. I didn’t even imagine that the four guys ahead of me might be in the 50k race and not the 50 mile, because I didn’t expect or care about my finishing place. So for the first 23 miles things felt easy and time flew by so fast that I could hardly believe my Garmin GPS watch was accurate. Then came the aid station at mile 23 where the college girl behind the table told me I was “the 50 mile leader rock star.” It’s always nice to be called a rock star by a pretty girl, but I think I let out an audible groan as I told her I needed to slow down because this was only a training run. As I said that aloud though, inside I was saying that now I knew I needed to bump things up a notch even though this first-place thing likely wouldn’t last. I asked her how long till the next aid station and she tried to get me to chit-chat about what race I was training for, but I had to get out of there quick. A quarter mile down the trail I was cursing myself for at least not getting a name or phone number.

So if I was giving 75% before, now I was giving 85-90% and not bothering to tie my shoelaces which came undone. The trail was far less exciting now, as it was mostly dirt roads and two-track trail. I ran for awhile on this section with the eventual female 50k winner, who kept me on an appropriately rigorous pace. Neither of us wanted to talk much, but there was a silent understanding that since we were in different races we were only there to encourage each other. I started to realize my trail running strengths once we turned onto single track again and I couldn’t help but pull ahead to come into the Forestville Aid Station around mile 27. Along the way I had a coyote as a spectator in the woods, which gave me a bit more enthusiasm before I headed out on the long 18 mile out and back section.







I had told Travis 9 miles beforehand that I had to take a shit, but I felt too good to stop. Now all sorts of things were catching up to me on this comparatively boring section of old logging road. I pulled off to the side and took the opportunity to finally taste one of the thimbleberries which were so plentiful. I was sure I’d be passed while taking a dump, but no one came. I continued on, but was having a very rough time. I knew that this tough patch would pass if I could somehow ride it out, but I was forced to hike up hills that I would have liked to run and even had to hike some of the flats. If someone were going to pass me, it would probably be here. But, surprisingly it didn’t happen and I straggled on until I gratefully came to the Rt. 510 station. I told my crew I’d really have to take it easy from this point on and that I was having a hard time. I decided to throw on the iPod for motivation, but it turned out it didn’t even work because too much sweat had found its way inside from previous workouts. I forced myself on, back down the trail I had just come up and it wasn’t long before I saw my competitors on their way to the aid station I had just left. We greeted each other with smiles, but theirs looked genuine while mine was an attempt to cover up how much I was struggling. I focused on a mantra of “one foot in front of the other” and somewhere along that route my energy returned (was it the nutritional shake?, maybe the two bucks I ran into on the trail?) and I was easily able to ignore the temptation to walk. I even was able to put in a couple of little surges to try to pull ahead of those guys who couldn’t be far behind. I passed by more people and this time my smile and hello felt a lot more genuine, although I was also in intense concentration mode at this point.

I pulled into the last Aid Station (mile 45) and Travis was there to ask if I needed anything. I told him “Vaseline” since my armpit was chafing and an old man in a nearby lawn chair started cracking up (apparently he thought I’d said “gasoline” and he thought this hilarious). The folks at the aid station told me I was “way ahead” but I wasn’t so sure and once again I didn’t much care. This time it was Travis who told them I wasn’t supposed to be racing and I said I didn’t care if I had to crawl those last five miles. I told Travis I’d see him at the finish and was relieved that there were a mere five miles left.

Five miles usually doesn’t seem all that much to me. On a normal aerobic training run on flat terrain it might take 34 minutes. However, on this course the last five miles was once again technical and rocky which required a lot of leg strength at a time when my legs were pretty well tired. I did my best to stay running, but a couple sections were simply not runnable. Toward the end the trail got easier and I was glad to get my legs turning over quickly. In my mind I thought, “Yes, this is really hard but it doesn’t feel impossible and I just want to get the race over as quickly as possible so that I can rest.” The end finally came across the bridge over the Dead River and back to where I had started 8 hours and 13 minutes earlier. The race director, my crew, and various others congratulated and babied me for a bit while I sat on the grass exhausted and satisfied. I was relieved, happy and just worn out enough to think I’d had a good training run for my first shot at a difficult 100 miler one month from now.

I went to bed after a bison burger dinner with a cold ginger ale. Unfortunately a bunch of college kids arrived in the campground next to us and partied it up all night long, including burning a whole entertainment center in the fire ring and having an all night drunken anal orgy. I was only semi-conscious during all this and mostly got the low down the next morning from Travis who couldn’t sleep through all the shenanigans and didn’t bother to say anything to them as they (unknowingly?) pissed right next to my tent.



The next morning I awoke happy to feel my muscles feeling sore, but still very functional. I didn’t even walk funny like I did for days after the Boston Marathon. I wanted to show Travis and Stephanie the awesomeness that is Sugarloaf Mountain and the section of course along Lake Superior. We had an awesome hike, picked lots of berries and this time I took lots of pictures. I think the pictures probably do a better job than this report of how awesome this course is.

Thanks again to Stephanie and Travis – an awesome crew who showed up ready and on time while having their own adventures in the process. Congratulations to Dale, who I met along the way and completed his first 50 miler and ensured a qualifier for Western States 100 – stay stubborn and good luck at vet school! Thanks to Joe for putting on such a great race. You can expect me back next year to defend my title with a 100% effort and an even better time (sub 7:45?).