Doldrums

In the past 12 days, the only running I’ve done was on race day. I planned it this way for the most part (although I was hoping to do some walking last week to stay active, and didn’t), but I also expected a different outcome from the race, so now I’m re-thinking my plans. I will probably give myself this coming weekend off, and then start running some short miles the next couple weeks. This makes sense, based on all the things I’ve had to consider.

  • My left foot is mostly back to normal, but while the blister on my right heel (the one that never healed fully from CM50K) doesn’t hurt, it also needs to grow back skin of the proper thickness and texture.
  • The chafing on my legs is mostly healed, although I wore a skirt to work yesterday and noticed a bit of irritation.
  • I’m sleeping like garbage, thanks to early sunlight, constantly hungry cats, a snoring spouse, and Born to Run (the Springsteen memoir, not the running book).
  • Most of the rest of my body healed really quickly after FANS, I suppose since there weren’t any huge climbs and I wasn’t going very fast, but I did develop a knot in my back that turned rather painful. Deep breaths still hurt. (I had scheduled a massage, but there was a mix-up with the scheduling, so I didn’t get one.)
  • I’m taking the Fundamentals of Engineering exam on June 23rd, and I need to study every night. I don’t have time for long runs, I don’t have time to procrastinate starting my runs – I have to allot all my procrastination time to avoiding studying. This is the absolute top priority in my life for the next 2 weeks. And let’s hope it’s over after that! Yikes.
  • I signed up for 2 short races between now and Curnow on July 15th. I signed up for Midnight Sun Midnight Run 5K on June 23rd (a good way to run off all the stress of the test that same day), which was planned. This will be my 3rd year running this race, it’s always fun! I also signed up for the Park Point 5 Miler on July 13th. So yes, 2 days before Curnow. I ran this 2 years ago and had my first disappointing race. A dubious milestone, I know. I didn’t run it last year because I was supposed to run Curnow, which of course I didn’t do. This year, I’m going to run it and see if I can get some of those race week jitters out of my system.

So, that’s a lot of thinking about something fairly insignificant – in other words, the same approach I take to all things running. I’m looking forward to getting back out there, especially now that the weather is better!

Race Report: FANS 24 Hour Race

Official Results:
Distance: 29.5 mi
Placing:
Overall: 116/147
24 Hrs: 77/84
Gender: 18/19

Watch Results:
Time: 10:24:37 (This includes about 25 minutes of time between when I finished my last lap and when I finally stopped my watch)
Pace: 19:57
Distance: 31.3
Heart Rate: N/A

Goals:
A: 100 mi
B: 90 mi
C: 75 mi

Food:
What I ate the night before: sesame chicken with brown rice, chicken satay skewers
What I ate on race morning: bagel, Clif bar
What I carried with me: n/a

Gear:
What I wore: to start – tank top, shorts, trucker hat; later changed to t-shirt, shorts, trucker hat
Gadgets: GPS watch, fitness tracker

Discussion: There’s nothing like “failure” to make me want to try again.

Also it’s really funny that 9 months ago, I’d never even run a marathon, and now I’m looking at 29.5 miles as failure. Once that thought popped into my head yesterday, I started to feel ok with the results.

I have a long history of quitting when it comes to running. I walked the mile runs in gym class because I didn’t want to put in the effort. I ended up in the duty van in college during ROTC physical training runs far too often, because I would rather quit than be so much slower than everyone else. I DNSd 2 races last year because I didn’t get enough sleep the night before. So in some ways it’s not surprising that I quit this race so early on.

My husband and I drove down to the Twin Cities on Friday afternoon, picked up my packet, and then went to my dad’s to transfer all my supplies to his truck. The plan was: I stay at my dad’s Friday night, he takes me to the race, we set up, he crews me til late afternoon; my husband stays at our hotel Friday night so he can sleep as late as possible, he arrives at the race in the late afternoon to crew me til the next morning. That part worked out pretty well, although I slept really poorly. I must have gotten an hour or two of sleep at some point, but nothing really restorative.

It was 75F at 6:30 a.m., so that was not the best omen. It took about half an hour to drive to the race start, which was really easy to find and had plenty of parking. We unloaded some of the gear, set up the tent, and then I ate a bit before heading over to the start. I should have made sure we unloaded the chairs, so that I could have sat down for a bit before the race started. Not that it really mattered in the end, but still, I was standing and moving around for an hour before the race started. I didn’t warm up, but I wasn’t planning on it.

The race started right on time, and we did a shorter out and back on the path before turning around and starting our first full loop. The trail loops around Snelling Lake and has significant sections of shade, though it also had stretches of full sun. The shaded sections were actually bearable, but when the sun blazed down on me, it sapped away my energy. By noon, the temperature had reached 90F. I know that’s nothing compared to the heat from, say, Western States or Badwater or Marathon des Sables, but I have had zero heat training.

I ran almost all of the first “long” loop (the out & back + the full loop), stopping to walk for 5 minutes so I could finish my Clif bar. I did a few intervals of Run 30/Walk 5, then went to Run 10/Walk 5, and then deteriorated into Walk Slowly/Run Occasionally. The loops all kind of blend together to me, so a traditional recap isn’t going to make a lot of sense.

During (I think?) my 9th loop, I was walking along and heard some cracking noises. I thought it was squirrels or just trees moving in the breeze. Nope. A tree came crashing down about 20 feet behind me, and maybe 15 feet behind a runner coming up to pass me. We looked at each other in shock, then I high-fived him, because what else do you do to celebrate a near miss like that?

The heat was really frustrating to me. I’m so envious of the folks who were still able to run in the heat, and who didn’t seem to have even a touch of sunburn. I was reapplying sunscreen every 1.5-2 hours, and I STILL got sunburned (though not too badly). All I could think about was making it until the sun went down. If I could just hang on, and keep moving forward at whatever slow pace I could comfortably manage, I could rally in the evening.

My friends showed up around the 6 hour mark, and one of them did loops 10-12 with me. My feet were starting to hurt, so I’d changed into my trail shoes to relieve some of the pain from the gravel. The extra support and the rock plate helped a bit, but the bases of both my heels were really hurting. After loop 10, I took my socks off to see what was up. On my left foot was a blister stretching across most of the circumference of my heel. On my right foot was a blister that had formed on top of the remnants of an old blister (from Chippewa Moraine, I think!), about the size of a walnut, puffing out about half an inch. So, no wonder. I lanced them as best as I could, bandaged them up, and started moving again. It didn’t feel amazing but it felt a little better.

I managed 2 more slow laps, talking with my friend, gimping along, and then sat down to rest again and talk with them. They decided to leave, and just as I was gearing up to leave again, my dad told me my stepbrother and sister in law and my 2 nephews were at the park getting their permit. I didn’t think they were coming since it was so hot and my younger nephew had been sick. I decided to stay until they arrived, and then talked to them for a little while, ate some of the snacks they brought me, and then headed out for what I didn’t know would be my final lap, lucky #13. The blister on the right hurt a lot, and I ended up changing my gait to try to accommodate it, which was bad news. I planned to try to tape it up better with some moleskin, and I did, but when I got up to test it out, the chafing on my inner thighs/near my shorts liner really started to sting and burn, despite changing my shorts, cleaning the salt away with wet wipes, and slathering the area with Vaniply and Vaseline.

So I quit. I chose to take the easy way out. Neither the chafing nor the blisters were the worst anyone has seen in the history of chafing and blisters, but I didn’t see any reason to continue and to make them worse. (It’s 2 days later and I’m wearing flip-flops at work, so I’m glad I didn’t in that regard.) I had sort of stopped caring about the race, and there wasn’t much to look forward to, just endless loops. I didn’t want to trudge around in a circle with a stinging crotch for 14 more hours. That was really not going to give me any guidance as to my readiness for a longer race.

It’s funny that in the end, it didn’t even matter that I was undertrained. I was plenty well trained for 29.5 miles! And while the heat really concerned me, I think I managed my hydration well (I only lost a pound at the first weigh-in, and had the same weight at the second weigh-in, probably because I wasn’t running hard), I didn’t have much nausea, and I still had the sense that I could pick it up once the sun went down.

I’m chalking this race up to a learning experience, even if it wasn’t the learning experience I was looking for. There were still a LOT of lessons for me.

  1. Having a crew makes me uncomfortable.
    My dad was so kind and gracious to sit out there in the heat for 10 hours, fill my water bottles, monitor my food, and support me. He kept offering to do other things, like spray me with sunscreen, but it just made me feel more guilty and uncomfortable. I am so used to doing everything for myself, since I usually go to races alone. I spent extra time at my tent because I felt bad that he was by himself. He did enjoy the people-watching; I think he was getting too many ideas from one of the other crews nearby – there were like 7 people crewing one guy and they were like a NASCAR pit crew! No thank you. I think if I do a long race, I won’t enlist a crew until the later stages, when I need extra gear or to get resupplied or something.
  2. Visitors are too much of a distraction.
    It was awesome to have my friends and family visit. But it kept me at the campsite longer than I should have. It was also sort of demoralizing that when I was running with my friend, he was walking. So I walked, too, when maybe I could have run here and there. And I talked, which slowed me down, too. It would have been better if we were both entrants in the race and could meet up, part ways, meet up, and so on.
  3. I brought too much stuff.
    I should have just relied on aid stations. I didn’t need like 75% of the stuff I brought, and again, it kept me in the campsite longer than I needed to be.
  4. Running a marathon doesn’t destroy me physically anymore.
    I’m not walking around much, but that’s mostly due to the blisters, since even without shoes on, they hurt. I have some general soreness in my back and my hips, but that’s it. Granted, I took several long breaks, but I still traveled 29.5 miles.
  5. I’m the slowest walker ever.
    I’m short, and I’m long-waisted. So my legs are not really built for fast walking. But it was hard to be out there, seeing people putting in a similar effort but passing me with ease, or even seeing people struggling and being unable to catch up with them.
  6. Summer is not the time to try new distances.
    I don’t do well in the heat, so I think it’s best left to the spring and fall when I’m trying something new, at least as long as I’m living in Duluth.
  7. I don’t really like timed race formats.
    I like point to point races. I like running a set distance, rather than a set amount of time. I just couldn’t shift my paradigms enough. I really should do more “run for x number of hours” training runs, to try to get into that mindset better.
  8. I will totally do this race again.
    Maybe just one more time, for “revenge.” It was such a cool atmosphere, though! I mean, I got an email from the race director yesterday with the subject line “Well, THAT Happened!” These are my people. The race rules packet was littered with funny, snarky comments. The whole attitude is so relaxed – it’s not full of aggressive, hyper-competitive runners, it’s full of people doing their own thing, whether that’s winning, taking it easy, or doing all their laps in the opposite direction. And the volunteers were so great! Especially the lap counters. My lap counter (a guy for the first 6 hours and a woman for the last 4) were SO cheerful every time I came through, calling out my name and telling me great job. This is a real benefit of a looped course: getting to know the volunteers and making a connection. So many more times to thank them, too.

Now I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m getting a massage tomorrow, and then I’m not running for awhile. At first I said two weeks, but now that I didn’t really go above and beyond in distance, I might amend that. HOWEVER, no running until my feet heal completely. Curnow is in 6 weeks, so I do need to be mindful of that and at least put in a bit of training. Maybe I’ll have a really great performance there, since I didn’t beat myself into the ground this past weekend!

FANS 24HR Race Goals

Tomorrow I’ll be running in circles for 24 hours. I’m in denial, as usual.

noidea

I have no clue what this will be like. I haven’t run longer than 50km or 10 hours. It might be hot. It might be cold. It might storm. It might be sunny. It might be all of these things, and more.

My goals are:
A Standard: 100 mi
B Standard: 90 mi
C Standard: 75 mi

I don’t know how achievable any of these are. I suppose it depends on conditions, my health, and my mental capacity.

Less quantifiable goals:
1. Relentless forward progress. No long breaks. No sleeping in the tent. No quitting early.
2. Avoid sunburn and manage heat.
3. Eat and drink well. Keep my GI system healthy.
4. Finish happy, healthy, and with my relationships with my husband and my dad intact.
5. Gain a better understanding of what else I need to do to be prepared to run a 100 mile race next year.

If I do those three things, I should be able to achieve any of the distance standards I’ve planned out.

I’ve overpacked, overplanned, and undertrained for this race. Sounds like a typical situation for me.

Summer Running Goals: 2017

Gotta get these done before the weekend. “Summer” running goals are things I want to accomplish between June and August.

  1. Reach a personal best in distance.
    Bring it on, FANS. I’m hoping to see huge increase over 50km this weekend.
  2. PR at the marathon distance.
    My current marathon PR is 8:23:29, set last year at the Moose Mountain Marathon. While I expect to set an unofficial PR this coming weekend at FANS (and set an unofficial PR at CM50K of some unknown time under 8 hours), I’m looking to set an official PR at the Eugene Curnow Trail Marathon in July. Since I DNSd that race last year, just getting to the finish line is a small victory.
  3. Run from home to my dad’s place on Pike Lake.
    It’ll be a fun adventure. I just have to plan a route that keeps me off the highway.
  4. Run from Gooseberry Falls to Split Rock Lighthouse.
    This one is a holdover from last year. It seems like a good idea for a long run (an out and back is the most likely way I’ll achieve this, due to my lone wolf nature).

As for my spring running goals, let’s evaluate.

  1. Race a distance I have not raced before.
    I raced the Hot Dash 10 Mile in March and loved it!
  2. Run a race where I’m not sure I can make the cutoff.
    I raced the Chippewa Moraine 50K in April and finished 2:31 before the cutoff, after missing the intermediate cutoff but being allowed to continue.
  3. PR at the 50K distance.
    I dropped my PR from 10:25:37 to 8:57:29! Granted, CM50K was an easier course than Wild Duluth, but I’m taking some of that credit for myself.
  4. Help my team for Be The Match 5K raise $2000.
    I really flopped on this front. My mom and I raised over $1100 (probably more like $1200 as we had a couple make general donations), which is neither a fundraising PR nor anywhere near my stretch goal. Yuck.
  5. Improve my time at Superior 25K.
    I ran 45 minutes better than last year. Check check.

FANS 24 HR Training: Weeks 15 and 16

Lower mileage than I’d like, but I suppose I’ll just be that much more rested?

Week 15
Monday: 6.1 mi, trail (Lester Park)
Tuesday: 5.2 mi, paved trail (Lakewalk)
Wednesday: rest
Thursday: 8.4 mi, road
Friday: rest/travel
Saturday: 15.3 mi, trail (Superior 25K)
Sunday: rest/travel (raining)
Total: 35 mi

Week 16
Monday: 6.3 mi, road
Tuesday: rest
Wednesday: 8 mi, road
Thursday: 7.4 mi, road
Friday: 4.4 mi, trail (Western Waterfront)
Saturday: 8.7 mi, road
Sunday: 5.6 mi, road
Total: 40.4 mi

In week 15, even though I raced, I wanted to treat it as a true training week. That didn’t really work out, because my planned Sunday run didn’t happen. I made a non-noteworthy pasta salad (my own “recipe,” so basically some pasta, bell peppers, cheese, cilantro, and Newman’s Own parmesan-garlic dressing. Usually it has pepperoni, too, but I forgot.) and had a nice trail run at Lester Park. The only thing I don’t really like about running at Lester Park is the elevation: it’s all up, then all down. It’s not hard, but I prefer more variety.

In week 16, I switched my focus entirely to FANS, and started practicing walk/run intervals. I am not planning to do a Galloway-style walk run, that takes a lot more adjustment. I tried it once and found that I was constantly staring at my GPS watch, wondering if I missed a beep (and then I did miss one, the one time I wasn’t staring at it). I think that would be too distracting for me during a 24 hour race. I did some run 10/walk 5 intervals and some run 15/walk 5 intervals, to see which I liked better. The transition is harder than I thought. I found that run 10/walk 5 worked ok, but I wasn’t warmed up enough for the first transition and my calf muscles felt really tight, on the verge of cramping. I don’t think that will be an issue for the race, because I plan to run at least the first hour or so straight without walk intervals, but if my plan changes, I want to make sure my muscles are sufficiently warm before starting my first walk interval. I am probably over-complicating this but I excel at that.

I also made this:

Easy Chickpea Salad, once again from The Sea Salt. I didn’t cook the chickpeas long enough, so they didn’t absorb the dressing as well as I’d have liked. I subbed cilantro for parsley because I’m a freak for cilantro. The next day I made pasta and re-made the dressing from the recipe, added some of the leftover chickpea salad, and had a slightly different take on the meal. Be warned: it makes SO MUCH FOOD. I think I ate this 4 days in a row (2 with the pasta) and still had to toss some, not because it had gone bad, but because I needed to eat something different!

Last night, I made this:

Chicken Curry from Food52. I used half a jar of curry powder, which is amazing. I ended up using some extra cream, too (probably 2 cups instead of 1.5), since the skillet I used was kind of large and I wanted to make sure I had the chicken covered well. Also, I like sauce. I didn’t want to bother with the mess of cutting up chicken breasts, so I bought some already cut up chicken. I know that’s really lazy but I don’t really care. I guess that also means less chance of contamination. I actually didn’t put any cilantro in because I’ve bought it so much lately and some keeps going to waste. My meal planning skills are rudimentary.

The weather has been slowly starting to get nicer, and I have had a marked change in my mood. Earlier in the month I was stressing myself out a lot about the temperature, worrying about being cold only to find out it wasn’t that cold once I got outside. The last week+, I’ve run in shorts almost every day and felt fine. It was even hot for that 8.7 mile run on Saturday of Week 16! Some last minute heat training! Except now it looks like rain/thunderstorms for race day with highs in the 60s F. Woo.

I’m done running until Saturday! That feels strange to say. I plan on walking a few miles here and there to keep my legs moving, but other than that, I’m resting, prepping, and trying not to drive myself crazy between now and Saturday morning.

Superior 25K Follow-Up

Now that I have some space and distance from the tragic event of the weekend, I would like to go over some of the other aspects of the race. It still feels somewhat crass to discuss trivia like pace or food. I will say I don’t have any way to separate the runner’s death from my recollections or feelings about the race; it is always in my mind, but at some point it feels overwrought and dramatic for me to attach an asterisk to every blog mention of anything about the race. The following is a discussion of my race prep and execution tactics, and “good things” and “bad things” should be taken in that context.

A note before I move on to technical stuff: the responses of the race director and the trail running community have been kind and generous. Race participants have received multiple emails from the RD that have been heartfelt and genuine, with instructions on how to support the runner’s family, praise for the responders and the staff who kept the race going while he dealt with the incident, and access to a counselor for anyone who is struggling.

Refresher
Race Report
(since this was not a goal race, I don’t have a link to all the tagged posts like I usually do)

Good Things
Relaxed approach. I didn’t make an obsessive checklist for this race. I ran 15 miles on trails the weekend before with less stuff and less preparation, so why would I need to micromanage this? I didn’t make a time chart like I normally do – partially because there’s only one aid station and I don’t know the exact distances of any of the other waypoints on the trail (i.e. river crossings), and also because I knew my fitness was sufficient to achieve my B standard (4:30) without a monumental effort.

Relentless forward progress. (I love this term, thank you Bryon Powell for introducing me to it.) My non-time-related goal was zero stops on Moose or Mystery Mountains, and I was successful (with an emergency exception). I took them slowly and didn’t care if someone passed me.

Eyes on the prize. This was a training run for me, not a goal race. I didn’t overtax myself trying to get under 4 hours, or passing someone, or making some other ego-driven rash decision. I set conservative goals. I didn’t taper. I intended to run the next day, but it was pouring and cold.

Bad Things
Climbing skills. Someday, I’d like to be able to run up easier hills without paying for it later in the race. I haven’t been doing much hill work lately so my thighs were basically on fire anytime I hit anything more than a little bump. I’ve got to do more work on sustained climbs.

Hill recovery. I’d like to get to a point where, even if I can’t run up hills, I can run once I’m on them. I was about half and half on this one, but some of that was mental, too.

Race Report: Superior 25K 2017

Official Results:
Time: 4:06:15 (45 minute improvement)
Pace: 15:52
Placing:
Overall: 215/301
Gender: 111/185
AG (F 30-39): 59/95

Watch Results:
Time: 4:06:20
Pace: 16:56
Distance: 14.54 mi
Heart Rate: N/A

Goals:
A: 4:15
B: 4:30

Food:
What I ate the night before: chimichurri burger and fries
What I ate on race morning: bagel with cream cheese and hazelnut spread
What I carried with me: 4 gel packets (I ate 1), candy (had one Jolly Rancher), mints, water.

Gear:
What I wore: t-shirt, shorts, ball cap, buff, arm warmers
Gadgets: GPS watch, fitness tracker, hydration pack

Discussion: Writing a race report feels wrong. Initially I considered not writing one, because celebrating a PR or even dissecting the successes and failures of the race seems trivial and disrespectful. A runner passed away on the trail during the race. It’s a terrible loss for his family, friends, and students, and a traumatic event for the race staff and runners, especially those who were involved in trying to save him. We take risks we don’t even realize when we run these remote races, with miles between aid stations. A couple of miles seems endless in an emergency. All we have out there on the trails is each other, and dozens rose to the occasion.

I don’t want to dwell on this story; it isn’t really my business, nor is it about me. I’ll share that I asked myself what I would have done, had I been the first person to come upon the runner. I can’t say for certain, but I know that I was in no way as prepared as the runners and hikers who were assisting, and I need to update my first aid and lifesaving skills. I am not a medical professional, but I need to do the best I can to be prepared to help on the trail.

The rest of the weekend is worth talking about, even though in perspective, it seems small.

My husband and I drove up on Friday afternoon, arriving just in time for me to start my volunteer duties. I helped sell merchandise this year, which I haven’t done before. It’s a little different than checking people in, which I really enjoy doing – I like chatting with each runner as they pick up their bib or race shirt. However, selling merchandise is a bit less stressful – packet and shirt pick-up can have a tinge of drama, and it can be rushed. Since people choose whether or not they want to look at all the swag for sale (and it’s great, the race director creates it all and he has an incredible eye for design), they’re not in a hurry and have time to chat. I made some new friends, which is basically the reason I volunteer (besides giving back to the trail running community), and reconnected with some others, including one guy I knew from high school, who I hadn’t seen in probably 20 years.

After I finished volunteering, my husband and I went to dinner at the Poplar River Pub at the Lutsen lodge. I ate an actual meal the night before a destination race – I think this might be a first. It wasn’t the world’s healthiest meal, but it was more substantial than the junk food I ate before Chippewa. We went back to our resort for the evening and watched a movie and went to bed around midnight. I tossed and turned a bit, especially since I realized while laying out my gear for the morning that I had forgotten my bib in the packet pickup room. Or at least, I hoped it was there. Overall I got a decent night’s sleep, and got up around 6:45, walked down to check in and find my packet (it was there, of course), and then back to my room to get ready.

The weather was cool and it was overcast, but the forecast had improved and it appeared the rain would hold off until the evening. I packed my ultralight rain jacket and a pair of gloves in my pack, just in case. I decided for a shorter run, I wouldn’t bring along anything other than water and a couple of gels. I think I might have put a Clif bar in there just in case I needed something substantial, but I can’t remember. I got dressed, ate, putzed around worrying, and then left for the start at about 7:40. Staying at the race start/finish takes away a lot of my race day anxiety. I didn’t even make a checklist this time, and still felt like I had everything I needed before, during, and after the race. I’m starting to get the hang of this.

I ran a little less than half a mile to warm up, just enough time to worry that my legs felt like lead weights. I met up with some friends from the Twin Ports I met at Voyageur who had driven up that morning (crazy!), and then fell into place with a new friend I’d met during my volunteer stint. She was helping to sell surplus tech tees (2 for $5!) and pint glasses ($1 off your first pint at the bar! One of the mainstay volunteers negotiated that deal) while I was next to her selling surplus race shirts from previous years (I bought one for myself). Her husband was also volunteering, but I recognized them both from my first volunteer experience, working the finish line at the Superior Fall Trail Races in 2015, when he finished the 100 miler. They’re both really cool people, and she and I discovered we had similar race goals, so we ran together at the beginning. We separated when we reached the single track – she took off and I hung back. She ended up finished about 20 minutes ahead of me, so we both outperformed our goals significantly.

It was slow going once getting onto the single track, as there was a muddy section to start off, plus some small hills. I walked all the hills, even the little ones, because I knew I had to save energy for Moose Mountain, my bff. I like the way this race starts – the half mile or so stretch of road helps everyone separate before reaching the single track, but the single track slows everything down again – it’s so tempting to go out too fast on the road, so the trail helps check that impulse. The first section is kind of funny at the back of the pack, because of the people who appear unprepared for the terrain or elevation, trying to pick their way through the mud unscathed, or trying to recover from taking the hill too quickly. I tried to hang back, avoided passing anyone, and let others pass me without concern. I had my own race plan, and I wasn’t going to abandon it a mile in just to feed my ego.

I ended up in front of a couple of runners also from Duluth, who were running together and having a conversation. It was just like Chippewa all over again. They ended up talking to me for a little bit, then they stopped to pee, and then they caught me on Moose Mountain. We climbed up together, with one of the women keeping up her end of the conversation. I was pretty amazed she was able to keep talking as we climbed up the steep trail; I was huffing and puffing and my legs were howling at me. Once we got to the top, we ran in a line for awhile before they passed me, and I didn’t see them again until we neared the aid station. I ate a gel about 5 minutes before I started the Moose Mountain climb, which was a great idea.

I started to see the first 25K runners as we crossed the top of Moose Mountain, including the first woman (who I believe finished 5th overall!), and as I started my descent, I ran into a UMD hockey alumnus, kicking butt in a new sport (he was 8th overall!) I caught up with a self-professed “flatlander” who ran with me from the bottom of Moose Mountain through to Oberg. People seemed to be a lot more spread out this time around, so I wasn’t having as much trouble passing as I did the previous year, or at Chippewa. Or maybe I was just in a better mood. On the switchbacks heading up Oberg, I saw the 50K winner come flying down with wild abandon. He ended up setting a course record, and I’m not surprised, considering how he looked. A man on a mission. He also runs wearing glasses so I felt some solidarity.

I reached the Oberg aid station in under 2 hours, and when I hit the lap button when I left, it read 1:59:59. I was probably about 15 minutes ahead of the previous year at this point, although I’m not 100% sure since I didn’t take a lap reading last year. Right before the aid station, a guy was sitting cheering on runners and playing music, which perked me up. At the aid station, I had a couple of cups of Coke and a cup of ginger ale, which tasted so delicious. I chowed down on some potato chips, stowed a couple of Fig Newtons in a pocket in my pack, got a hug from a volunteer friend, and turned around.

The run out of the Oberg aid station is much nicer than the run in, since it’s just a short uphill section followed by some nice runnable downhill sections. I passed runners that I knew from previous races, and offered encouragement to those who were looking like they couldn’t wait for the aid station. I understood – I’d been lusting after a pop for probably an hour. I was passed by a 50K runner I recognized – last year, he was the dude who was totally fried and out of water. He looked great this year in comparison, and he remembered me, too. I knew the backside of Moose Mountain awaited me, and I wanted to get it over with. I ate one of my cookies “fruit and cake” just before the ascent began, and then slowed down to a moderate walking pace when the familiar terrain of the mountain began. It was a tough climb, and I took it as slowly as I could. I was passed by some 50K runners whose climbing skills were impressive. I was jealous – I have got to get better and faster at the steep ascents.

When I finally reached the top (well, it’s the first “top,” as it’s more of a saddle profile), I cheered out loud, because I knew I’d finished the hardest part. I tried to run as much as I could across the top, but I slowed to a walk several times if I hit even a hint of incline. I was able to scramble down the other side pretty easily, other than one big step down off a root which my legs weren’t quite ready for. I trotted across the flat section between the mountains, trying to decide if I wanted to have another gel. I’d finished the other Fig Newton while crossing Moose Mountain, so I wasn’t really hungry. I decided to eat a Jolly Rancher while I plodded up Mystery Mountain.

I slowed to a walk as I reached the start of the Mystery Mountain ascent. I knew to take it slow: it wasn’t a steep ascent, but it took a long time. I started singing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” in my head, to keep busy while I was going up. I saw a group of people on the switchbacks above me, and thought it was a group of spectators cheering runners on during this last tough climb. When I reached the group and realized what was actually going on, that I had come upon a fallen runner receiving CPR, my heart sank.

Since there were at least 10 people already assisting, and I had no specific skills or tools with which to assist, after ensuring someone had called for help, I continued. I really don’t know if this was right or wrong. It felt wrong. If there had only been one or two people, I would have stopped. It felt wrong to stop, too; since I couldn’t provide any real help, it seemed like it would have just been self-serving. But maybe there was some specific way I could have helped, if I’d stayed. Everything felt wrong. It still feels wrong. Of course it does. The only way for things to have turned out “right” was for the whole thing to never have happened.

I kept walking in a daze, up the hill. I reached the top of the hill, started down, and met a woman coming to provide medical aid. I described his approximate location to her, so she could relay it back on her phone. I kept going, trying to run, lacking the motivation. Again, running seemed wrong.

I snapped myself out of the daze and pushed a bit, passing two other first responders on their way up the hill (giving them the right of way, of course), and passed a few other people on my way down. A woman went by me the other way and told me I only had a couple miles to go. “Listen for that river, girl, then you’re almost there!” I passed a couple of women picking their way along the sides of a muddy section, and just charged through like a buffalo. There was a spectator at that point, and she was cheering us on. “There are hoses at the finish! Just keep going!” she encouraged the others as I stampeded my way through the muck. I listened for the river, and when I hit the bridge I knew I needed to run it in.

Once on the road, I got passed by a couple 50K runners who looked strong. One was singing “Amazing Grace” aloud. I picked up the pace, running the last half mile at about an 11 min/mile pace (according to my grossly inaccurate watch). I turned off the road toward the finish and kicked it into high gear. I heard myself announced as “our friend Donna Carpenter from Duluth, completing her second Superior 25K,” and accepted my medal at the finish line, and then a hug from my friend, the finish line coordinator. He asked if I was ok, and I sort of waved my hands, and asked if he was ok, but I could tell he wasn’t. I got some lemonade and watched other runners finish. Each time a runner came around, the volunteers would shout “RUNNER!” and rev up the crowd, reminding everyone “we all need it today!” And we did. We cheered so we didn’t have to cry. Or we cried anyway.

I threw my shoes in the garbage and hosed off my feet, then ran into one of the women I’d met earlier (the one who had the breath to still talk when climbing Moose Mountain). We hugged and she made sure I wasn’t alone. We all did our best to take care of each other.

I went back to my hotel to shower. Physically I felt ok; a little tired, a little cold, a few tight muscles. No chafing. I changed into comfy clothes and watched TV for awhile, then once my hair was dry, I went down to get my post-race chili, met up with my friend from the start, and cheered on some more runners. My friends from Voyageur finished and we talked for a little bit, then they left to drive back (crazy, but they are used to it!) and I returned to my hotel. We drove up to Grand Marais for a little while, just to see it, and then drove back and had dinner at Caribou Highlands.

It was a difficult day for most runners, crew, and volunteers, though that pales in comparison to how hard that day and the days ahead will be for the loved ones of the runner we lost. Run gently out there, everyone, and look out for one another.