Voyageur 2016.

This is my first ‘official’ race report I have ever written I am unaware of any format or anything to include/exclude. I write this solely to share my experience with others and potentially give insight to those who are unfamiliar with the race or the trail running community.

Let’s start back on June 18, 2016. This was the 40th running of Grandma’s Marathon. It was HOT. My plan was to run a sub- 4 hr/4hr marathon, and due to the heat and the conditions, my goal after mile 14 was to ‘just finish the race and get it over with’. Everything after mile 14 was miserable, physically and mentally. I even remember walking parts of it, but running or walking I crossed the line, ate pizza, and slept OK.

The month of time I had between Grandma’s and Voyageur was filled with recovery and putting in miles, but I think Grandma’s left a bitter taste in my mouth for a while, partly because of my attitude towards the experience, but mostly because of how wrecked my body was after training/running on roads. Seeing my chiropractor two weeks before voyageur was great and also startling. Grandma’s gave me hips that were out of place (one pushed forward and the other pushed back- severely) and an extreme tightness on my left side because my body was compensating for it. Before getting it checked out I was running on it just bearing the pain because it was and is tolerable, rolling it out and stretching was helping, but it was more of a band-aid than anything, just relieving the pain temporarily, but annoying to deal with. No pain was ever going to get in my way of me showing up to the start ‘line’ of Voyageur, but surely I needed to have something done. Thankfully my chiropractor put everything back into place and suggested a few things, but she definitely wasn’t too keen on me running 50 miles.

July 29th 2016.

Felt pretty good, the nerves of the race had not settled in quite yet. It felt like going up north for another weekend of training on the trails. The familiar route to Duluth, the tasty road snacks, and hydrating enough for all the carbs I was planning to eat. This is where I should have planned better. I am pretty good about carb loading smart before a race, only this time I was a lot more relaxed about the food situation and would soon realize I had eaten way too much gluten*. This put a damper on things for the rest of the evening through the morning.

Jul 30th, 2016

4 a.m. alarm to eat, get ready, and head out the door at 5 was chirping. I had my usual pre-race breakfast but with a new charm (or so I thought) of a Trader Joe's blueberry muffin. Again, the gluten train was on full speed and I regret jumping on board (next stop, balloon stomach). I just assumed it was pre-race jitters. We got to the start and on the way I got to witness the colors of the sunrise. Duluth has my heart when it comes to trails, sunrises, and amazing food. After meddling around with friends, trying to find the bathroom, frequenting the bathroom, checking in again, it was getting closer to the start time. I went back outside to find Kari, whom I had previously talked to about running with her for as much as I could, and that if one of us was feeling good, we could go our own paces. I  felt good about this and was excited I had someone to run with- flash back to Zumbro and I was singing the hokey-pokey by myself through the night as I was getting a little freaked out by being solo at night- already off to a better start!

The race starts by introductions of alumni runners who have achieved badass status of doing this race for as almost as long as the race has been around (mad props to those people, I hope my knees last me that long!). I am getting my watch ready by this time, and I am waiting for an official horn, beep, or countdown of some sort to officially start the race, as there is no chip timing of sorts. From my memory, there was a “Go!” lightly shouted and a group of about 300 or so runners trotting up the street, I was caught off-guard and quickly hit the start button on my watch. It was definitely the most abrupt start I have had to a race. Time to get this gluten riddled runner to shuffle!

So far so good. Kari, Kate, and I were all staying close to each other, but being the seasoned veterans and badass ultra runners that they are, they are starting strong, and I am keeping up. I felt good about this! We start talking right away, about the weather, the beautiful park, etc. Soon enough we are in Jay Cooke, starting off with roots, rocks, and the unavoidable bottleneck of runners trying to work their way through slim trails. To some, this is a good reminder to take it easy and start off slow, but for some this is a nightmare of too many people at once out on the trail. Some try to get ahead, some pass on the left and right. It’s like rush hour traffic without the swearing, honking, and flipping the bird. All are polite about passing. From my previous 50 miler, it was really nice having someone to run with. Talking about anything and everything to keep our minds, especially how my stomach felt. At about mile 6, I knew that it was not pre-race jitters, but rather my eating choices, especially with the golden rule of not trying anything new on race day... My stomach somehow knew that this was game time and did a pretty good job holding down aid station food and not doing anything embarrassing.

The first aid station went by like a breeze, so I quickly grabbed a fig newton and ran onwards, hearing “go super doe!” as I ran off. I threw up a fist in celebration with fig newton in mouth. Great. More gluten.

A few more miles passed and I got to eat more food at the following aid stations. My friend Julio met us at some of the stations, and was very considerate for asking what I needed or could help with. He offered his hands in taking my garbage, and it was at that moment I realized that just offering your hands to put slimy banana peels and wrappers in, that meant a lot. I smiled and thanked him and the volunteers (which I made a habit to say to all volunteers, because they mean the WORLD at races like this!)

We had joked along the way about finding the perfect spot to go to the bathroom in the woods multiple times, saying it wasn’t too covered or that the course is too windy and that the runners would see us relieving ourselves. All this talk was funny until it got to a point where I couldn’t stand running anymore, thankfully I saw a fork that went to the right where all the runners were directed to go straight, so I ventured off to the right. Whoa! New person, well, kinda. I still had the gluten balloon. Shoot.

A few more miles went by, and terrain changed. There was more water crossings, paved path, and grassy terrain.

“Do you smell bacon or is that just me?”. She asked me. It was definitely the smell of bacon coming from the nearby aid station. We approached the bacon and people were grabbing it like loan forgiveness checks falling from the sky. As amazing as it smelled, I knew my gluten balloon would not do so well.

At one of the water crossings, I had discovered that it was filled with inflatable ducks and a shark. Volunteers sure know how to decorate a water crossing!

I remember at one of the water crossings, I heard a lady behind me exclaim “your feet will get muddy and wet eventually” so to me, that translated to “just cross and who cares if your feet get submerged!”, which she most like way saying “Just be careful and try to not get your feet wet, but if they do don’t worry about it” At this time my feet were soaked. Shoes and all. Thankfully my shoes dry EXTREMELY fast. That is one quality I absolutely love about them. However, the socks did not dry. My socks got so wet that my sock liner was coming out of my shoe with every step I took. This didn’t stop me because I refused to look at my feet, and it just felt like my socks were bunched up in my shoes from getting wet. No worries, just wet socks, not the end of the world. At mile 19, I finally pulled off to the side thinking a tiny twig had worked its way in my left foot, only to see it was my sock liner popping out. I have never experienced this and I had two options. Take it out or put it back in. I chose to take one out and leave one in to see what happened. At the next aid station, the consensus was take both out, and when I reach my drop bag, I had dry socks waiting for me. After a hug from Willow (who, by the way, is one of the most friendly and kind souls I have ever met, she greeted me with the biggest hug and smile, and this was only the second time I had met her!) Great plan, I was going to be fine without the tiny piece of foam under my feet that doesn't do much besides protect your foot from the harder bottom. I learned this the hard way. Since I had my sock liner incident, I also lost my running buddy. She had joked earlier before I stopped that the race doesn’t start until the turnaround point, but she was right.Thankfully around the 20 mile point I was on the Spirit Mountain section and it was flat. I crossed Long and Joe who were running really strong. Long and I chatted for a quick second, followed by a sweaty kiss that gave me a kick to get to the halfway point.  I got to the halfway point and I was hungry and hot. The cool temperatures that the morning had were long gone, and the heat and humidity took over. Thankfully my friends mom stepped in as my crew and offered to refill my bottles, and told me to put ice in my hat. My friend had and it felt AWESOME (in her words). They proceeded to dump ice in my hat and I put it on. This was awesome! Now, the race really started. Game face on.

I started to get more tired, more sore, things that weren’t hurting before were presenting themselves with gradual awareness to my feet, shins, knees, and the back of my neck (from carrying my pack and looking down) . My feet were really paying the price for my taking out the sock liner, I couldn’t put them back in since they were still wet and bunched up. I kept changing my socks when I could and mentally made friends with all the aches and pains present. I mentally acknowledged all the things that hurt, “Alright knees, feet, and neck, you all hurt but we are doing this, it hurts more to walk than it does to run, so run, and you’ll be in pain a lot less!” I then clapped and picked up the pace. Along the way, I would run by fellow runners and have conversations with them. Complete strangers to me. We would talk for a few miles, and then caterpillar past each other as we approached aid stations. At the paved path aid station under the bridge, I remember a runner talking to a volunteer saying, “She’s gonna pace me, she’s a strong runner.” It’s one thing to be complimented as a runner, it’s another to be complemented during an ultra when my feet feel like they lost a 10 round boxing match. At this point I was feeling great, my new friend right behind me. His compliment and encouragement made me pick up my pace. Soon I was far off and I had lost my new friend. I made other friends along the way which made mile 30-39 go by a lot faster, because mile 26-39 was LONG. Time seemed to slow down, that stretch was mentally the toughest. Another fellow runner talked with me for a bit, and his simple, knowledgeable answer reminded me to play the rest of this race smart. "How are you doing" I asked. He responded with saying he was hydrating, eating enough, putting one foot in front of the other, and being smart. That is all you need to do in ultras- and above all else, your mind is your greatest tool- or in some cases, your greatest enemy.

I pulled into one of the aid stations feeling drained. Time to refuel and head back out after changing socks. My first priority was food and then changing socks second. As I was eating a woman came up to me with my drop bag and asked if I needed anything from it. I had already grabbed what I needed from it, but this will forever leave a mark on my experience. Her kindness to go out of her way for a stranger is why the trail running community is amazing. The love and care of the spectators, crew, volunteers, and runners is phenomenal. At this point I had fear built in to me, I feared that I wouldn't be able to finish before the cut-off time and I had no sense of the cut-off time or what time it was. "Will I make it before the cutoff time?" I frantically asked one of the volunteers. "Beats me" he responded. Right away, a man approached me and reassured me I would and that I had more than enough time. As I was leaving the aid station, the look on my face probably said “I feel loved, but I am struggling, because the volunteer who was standing off to the right smiled at me and said, “You are doing awesome, and it is going to feel so good to cross the finish line.” I started tearing up and muttered a “thank you”. This is just what I needed to hear as Jay Cooke was a rooty, rocky mess. It’s funny how my lens changed on the way to the zoo that Jay Cooke was this majestic landscape, and on the way back I was struggling thinking that all I wanted was to not place my foot on a rock or a root.  

Back to the gluten balloon happening. The whole race I felt like a balloon, not knowing if I would throw up or not at any given point from not eating enough or eating too much, or not eating the right things. I had waited long enough to go to the bathroom (for the third time- the first two were unsuccessful attempts at feeling like a new person) and I finally remembered that before crossing the Jay Cooke bridge the park had very nice facilities close to the aid station. I went there right after checking in to the aid station. I paused my watch and paced around as both bathrooms were occupied. I got a few strange looks from people looking at the gifts inside as I was a dirty, smelly person with a race number on. The park ranger walked past me and said, “congratulations!” “For what?!” I said confused. “For finishing your race!”. I looked at my watch and told him that I still had 4 more miles to go. The look on his face went from cheerful to deer in the headlights. I used the bathroom, which felt like stepping into a luxury hotel after camping. This relieved the gluten balloon some, enough to comfortably run the rest of the race.

The Jay Cooke part was over, and my feet met the pavement that was familiar from earlier that day, many hours before. I picked up my pace knowing that the finish line was close. I passed a man who saw me and asked if he could run with me because I had a good pace. Of course I would accept any company! We asked each other how we were, and we decided to pick it up again. “What’s next for you?” we asked each other. He has Superior 100 on his plate, and Wild Duluth 100k on mine. A figure in the distance was cheering. I could only assume it was Long waiting for me, and it was great to see him again after many miles. I was so happy to see him!

I approached Long with all smiles. I was beaming at this point, and my brain instantly thought he was blocking my way to the finish line, so I literally ran into him. After a few giggles and straightening back out, he ran with me to the finish line with my new friend. I was glowing at this point, and I felt so happy and accomplished. All pain became numb as positivity ran through me. Cheers became louder, cowbells were prominent, and I took off my hat and waved it in the air as I cheered and ran across the finish line. This moment will be engraved into my brain, as it was the happiest, most proud I have been with myself for awhile. I walked over to meet Long and all I wanted was to go to the bathroom and go home to shower ASAP. A woman ran over and said “don’t forget this!” The coveted finisher's mug, made locally for the finishers. I hugged it, it was the most thoughtful, beautiful piece of art I had ever received for being on a trail for 12 or so hours. At this point the gluten balloon had subsided and things were very slowly going back to normal, and at the same time by body was also taking in everything that it had been through. I chatted with friends briefly filled with congratulations and joy in a very fatigued fashion. After eating one of my favorite meals of all time at Duluth Grill, a shower and a twitchy sleep followed.

In summary, Zumbro has taught me how to be a smart runner and how to mentally tackle 50 miles. Voyageur was the time to use everything I had learned and utilize it for when things got tough. This has been my favorite race this year, and during the 30-39 mile stretch, I always ask myself why I do this and why I sign up for ultras again. At this point, I can happily answer that I will do it again because I love it and I have fun. Sure my stomach felt like a balloon, sure my feet hurt, but the love and support of the trail community keep me coming back for more. To run and be in nature, to gain these experiences are priceless.

Thank you to all the volunteers, without your care and commitment, we wouldn’t be able to tackle such a distance. Thank you to the friends I knew and to the friends I made. You are what keep me smiling and encouraged day in and day out. To the race staff and director, thank you for putting on a spectacular race year after year. To the people or person who make the mugs. Amazing, just-- no words! It is the most meaningful piece I have ever received after a race!

Shout out to all the runners who run for Defeat the Stigma. You run for a great cause, and you run with heart. Thank you for the encouragement and hi-fives, but most importantly, thank you for running with purpose. You are all amazing and I am proud to identify and run with the same purpose.

*I am not allergic to gluten, but I would say I am gluten sensitive. The term ‘gluten balloon’ refers to how my stomach felt after eating too much gluten before the race and paying for it during.

*Photos by Endurance Kennels LLC

What I learned:

With every race, lessons are learned, knowledge is gained, and a new level of appreciation is gained. I am humbled and grateful for the experience I had at Voyageur. I am honored and privileged that I have a body that can run, that I can stand, and that I have this vessel that can carry me for miles on end on the trail.

There’s a quote that says if you are loosing faith in humanity to go out and watch a marathon. While I think that quote is great, I also think it should say at the end, “... but you should really run an ultra and experience it rather than watch it.”

Everyone wants you to succeed in the race. Everyone cares so much for each other. Whether a spectator, volunteer, or fellow runner, we all want to see each other doing great and if not, we all want to help. This is so amazing to live out, experience, and witness. I got to experience all dimensions of this. This community is so rich, I cannot express this enough!

Being mentally tough, making friends with the pain you are experiencing is crucial. To ignore it is to say it isn’t happening. It is happening, it’s real. Make friends with it, let it know you know, and then carry on!