Wild Duluth 100k. October 14, 2016.
This was what I wanted for my birthday, I remember. My parents had asked me prior to the day. I told them about the race, and they happily registered me. That was that! I knew my parents would be there, Long, and a lot of other friends and the famous!
Training through the rest of the summer, or what was left of it transitioning to the fall was fine. I wouldn't call it more than that. I started to feel like I was getting burnt out, and letting that feeling overtake me a bit. I would start to question why the hell I set my alarm for 4:45 and would meet people to run at 5:00/5:30 some mornings, avoiding the humidity or rushing in to work covered in muck and mosquito bites. I feared loosing the spark that made me fall in love with the trails in the first place. "After Wild Duluth, I am not going to race for awhile" I thought to myself, to not ever have the lingering 'burnt out' thoughts again. This seemed like a good plan.
The remaining few weeks leading up to Wild Duluth were fun, Long and I went up to Duluth to preview part of the course. If there is one trail I always feel alive and beaten up on at the same time, it's the Superior Hiking Trail. I am continuously blown away by the beauty and the terror of that trail- and by terror I mean the amount of roots, rocks, and all of nature's tricks it likes to play. I digress, we sampled part of the course that I had never been on before (of course, with the expanse of the trail, I have only had a small taste of the hundreds of miles the SHT offers!) But had to do a lot of it solo, since Long was still recovering from his 100 mile victory in September on the same trail, but a different section (Gooseberry to Lutsen). This was one of the most difficult parts of my training, doing it alone. I don't mind being by myself, but when it comes to directions and the unknown, those are not my strong suit. He told me to keep following the blue blazes (and thank goodness the SHT is well marked, they gave me comfort during training and the Wild Duluth race). He dropped me off at a point, told me where it would go, and that we would be parked along the way making sure I made it to each point. Bless his soul, I was glad he knew the trail better than my anxiety amplified 'you know nothing' map illustrated in my mind. I was off on my own, and despite my journey into the unknown, I felt confident, my find turned from 'freak out' to 'switch off' mode, meaning my brain just focused on the beautiful scenery, breathing, and the blue blazes. I loved it. I loved seeing people out on the trail, the sound of rushing water, and my steps as I went along. I met Long at the first point and was all smiles. I loved this! He told me to keep going, and drove off to the next point. This is where everything got chaotic. All of a sudden, there was a crowd of people, a lot of foot traffic, and apparently a fair going on. I was engulfed in casually clothed people who were trying to enjoy a nice Sunday while I was muddy and sweaty trying to find where in the world the trail connects! I ran back and forth, and repeated this many times until I finally got so frustrated and turned around and called Long. lost and confused, I started trekking back to the place I started getting lost. He found me probably looking like a lost puppy. He told me where to go, following the signs, rather than looking for blue blazes.. or one or the other. At this point I was frustrated: huffing and puffing about not having it well marked. I ventured on, knowing where to go once I was on the trail, but the road connections were lost on me. I was glad Long met me at these points, but was also a roller-coaster of feeling confident in my navigational abilities, and then feeling like a puppy wondering where to go. At one point of the trails, it was closed off and rerouted due to trees being cut down. I decided to call it quits after that point because I didn't want Long to be at the point wondering where I was and I didn't want to be at the end of a trail wondering where he was. Good call. We had a late lunch/dinner and relaxed a bit before ending our adventurous day trip up to Duluth for training.
October 13th, 2016.
I drove up with Long to Duluth, with my parents coming up later that day to join us. I felt good, the usual pre-race anxiety and excitement that builds up internally and works itself outwardly in being anywhere from goofy, extremely quiet as I am visualizing the race, or as I later learned, highly irritable and extreme introvert mode. We stopped at Ely Peak to do a shake out run/climb. As he wanted me to be prepared for the steepest part of the course, as I would have to conqueror it twice in a day. I loved climbing and running back down. The fall colors were amazing, and I absolutely loved running back down. I felt like I was flying as the wind was wild and the feeling of running down hill (I got goosebumps thinking about it again). It is moments like this where I feel most alive and free, and the reason I love trail running. We then ate at our favorite Duluth dining establishment, Duluth Grill. The day progressed and packet pick up was completed. My parents arrived, and they got settled and we started preparing for dinner. Julio and Joe also joined us for the dinner as they were both participating in the race as well. We talked, ate, and talked some more, and after dinner I was shot. I wanted nothing more then to be in a dark room and peacefully fall asleep. This didn't happen until much later than expected. Getting a good night's sleep before a big race has never happened for me, but all the adrenaline and excitement around the race keeps me going. I woke up that morning ready to eat a big breakfast, drink coffee, drink water, pee more times than I can remember, and prepare myself to head out the door.
The start/finish area was chilly. I remember shivering wondering if the whole race would be like this. I saw familiar faces and new ones, and Long taking video shots and asking his friends interview questions. My parents were there, so were some of the 50k runners who were starting later. The race director gave a short briefing, then instructed us to group outside of the arch, where the countdown would start. I was so excited to start this new journey! The longest distance I will have gone so far! The thought made me smile. I love ultras! These runners are great! The countdown happened before I knew it and we were off! I stayed towards the back as instructed to do so by Long, who always informs me to stay behind the faster runners. I was okay with this! the first 6 miles I remember was a mixture of running roads and a lot of climbing. I remember feeling cold at the start, and now I was hot and sweaty. The temperature felt strange to me, but the sun had not come up yet and I was feeling good. I said my good mornings as I passed some runners, and I talked to those who were at my pace, or at whose pace I wanted to follow. A lot of the people I talked to had the goal of just finishing the race. In my mind, I was determined to place in my age group, since there was not a lot of people doing the 100k my age. Lofty goal, but in my mind, achievable. Just 'finishing' for me was not enough.
The first stretch to the aid station seemed like it took forever. I had to remind myself that every aid station is a celebration to get to. The oasis in the desert! Filled with volunteers, friends, and the occasional appearance of my parents. Eating, talking, and heading back out was the goal, no lingering around at aid stations for me. I was on the clock! The weather seemed to be getting more hot and humid, but it didn't seem to occur to me to change anything in my mind.. I was drinking and eating enough to my standards, but later would realize this is where I needed to change things.
Going through Hartley park, I remember the race director saying, "ring the peace bell if you want!" I remember the sound of it on a previous training run though that beautiful park. I rang it, knowing that my main goal was to have fun. A runner past me, hooting and hollering at the sound. "That is going to sound even better when we come back this way" I told her.
The next aid station of sorts was two water cooler jugs filled with water on a table. In previous emails, this aid station was hard to get to since it was on Spirit Mountain, and on top of that there were not enough volunteers to aid the aid station. I did not need anything except to pee, really bad. I walked into the chalet and asked if I could use the bathroom. This was my oasis in the desert: an establishment with running water. I left the chalet and immediately went back out on the trail.. to a dead end. I heard a voice say "this way!" It was Long who found his way to the stop! I was laughing because not only did he make it to the aid station, he also knew which way I was supposed to go! Bless his navigational soul. I trekked on, following close behind three other runners I was tagging behind for a majority of the race. At one of the forks, I was unsure which way to go, as the directional sign had fallen over. I tried to think of which was the sign was facing if it was standing up, not trying to mess with putting the sign back up, as I was unsure of the right direction. I decided to go the way the arrow was pointing even on the ground, I turned and continued on. I then hesitated and started trekking backwards.. which I hate doing, but rather be on the right track versus running a mile or more in the wrong direction and loosing time and energy. Thankfully a runner behind me reassured me of the right direction, and we ventured on. Time went on, dropping in and out of conversations, being in my head and out, and at one point crossing paths with the 50k runners. I knew some of them and we exchanged quick high fives and encouraging words. Julio ran passed me, and the runner behind me also knew him, a conversation starter! As much as I am an introvert, the trails are sprinkled with interesting characters who always have good stories. This keeps me out of my own head and enjoying the miles as they go by a lot faster. Eventually we stopped talking because we would pass each other enough where we couldn't keep a long conversation. The half way point felt like it was taking forever to get to, and for me it was. Yikes, I felt slow. Really slow. I would pick up the pace for a bit and then for some reason, I would fast hike. I would yell at myself, "why are you walking?!" then run. This cycle happened for a bit, until I caught up with a woman whom I had been following for a while. We talked a lot, and had a lot of interesting history on the trails. While with all good intentions, she seemed to be in a bad mood and really forcing the half way point cut-off time on herself. "It's almost 1:00 and the aid station cut off is 3:00." She then took off. I remember this section more than any other section. This was the bike trails. Filled with more ups and downs then an old rickety roller coaster, and bricks as well. Man, this was tough. "You can drop out at the half way point, why not?" WHAT!? Why were these thoughts here? I had NEVER even once considered dropping a race. Negative thoughts were flooding. I had no backup plan, I was annoyed and in pain, with no plan or intention of crawling out. As I was getting closer to the turn around, a lot of friends were already cheerfully (and looking pain-free) passing me to head back to the start. Exchanging quick "Good job! How are you?" questions, I always answered okay. I was just okay.
At reaching the halfway point, I was in a bit of a reality shock. I started to tear up. I was in pain, I realized how hard this was. It took me this long in the race to find out first-hand, that this race was rugged, it beat you up, and it was tough. Kari was there giving me reassuring words and enough ginger candies to feed an army. I thanked her for her help and encouragement. My stomach was finally getting the punches, as I was not fueling or hydrating properly. Hugs were welcomed, and I was off, worried as always about the cut-off time. Here came the pee trigger again, but in this winding arena where cyclists roamed, there was no safe spot to go! I was eating, contemplating, and wondering how I was going to make this cut-off time.
"Come run with us!" Two men hollered from a distance as we were winding and weaving past each other on this never ending bike terrain. I eventually caught up to them, and we talked. These men, whoever they were, were the most positive people I had met all day. I immediately felt calmer and better. The amazing people in the trail community can be extremely encouraging and everyone wants everyone to succeed. We talked for a good stretch of time, leap-frogging the power lines, and the remainder of the time until I felt good enough to push myself. I thanked them for their encouragement and told them I would see them at the finish. I pressed on.
I remember texting Long to bring me t.p., because nature was calling and I forgot to pick up my t.p. baggie at the last drop bag (whoops). And I also wanted to text my good friend Marey to see if she reached her half marathon goal. She did it!!! I was so happy for her!!! I told her that I needed to go, bad, and that I was 40-ish miles in excited to pick up my pacer (Long) at the next aid station. The next thing I remember about this stretch is Long running so fast (faster than usual) to find me and hand me the toilet paper. I was in a panic because I thought this was 'muling' and that I would be disqualified. He reassured me it wasn't and I proceeded to go in the woods. Nothing. Dammit stomach what is going on!? I felt like an air balloon. Gross. Eating more did not feel like an option, nor did drinking.
I got in to the next aid station, and my parents and Long were there. I took a look at my feet as I thought I had a large blister. Nothing. I think my mind is extremely good at playing tricks on me, as tiny things get elevated in my mind. I changed my socks, put on my shoes, ate more food, and realized that Long couldn't pace me until the next aid station. I felt sad, I had to wait, but press on. I felt more fatigued, less energetic, and a flood of emotions. For some reason, I had a reel of flashbacks of people that called me 'crazy' for running ultras. this made me sad to the point where tears were developing. Why crazy, why not amazed? In awe? We call things crazy in line of things we do not know or do not understand. I wish those people knew the feeling of running trails and accomplishing the impossible made possible.
The next aid station! Yes, my pacer, boyfriend, and lifter of spirits (and master of making trail potstickers, YUM). Potstickers and coconut water saved me for what I had left, along with the delicious little ginger candies Kari gave me. These little friends gave me spurts that made me feel great! Made a mental note to get some of those for future races.
Climbing back up Ely was a struggle. A big one. I remember seeing the two men that I previously ran with glide past me as their pacer was leading them. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped as I watched them glide up Ely, they made it look so easy! Then there was me, trudging along, weaving all over the place, as I was dehydrated and not eating as much as I should have. Long kept motivating me as much as he could. and at one point, we stopped to put on headlamps as my night vision/vision in general was not the best.
I started to see tiny black frogs everywhere. Doing a dance while moving forward to avoid stepping on them, or most of them. "Why are there so many little frogs?!" I asked Long. "Where?" he asked. I left it at that. Did not want to argue about things that seemed irrelevant (or in this case, a hallucination).
I was slow-going due to lack of food. No food, no energy. I was beat. I was slow. I remember at one point hearing my dad cheer as Long and I trotted along, His voice in the night was awesome to hear. My parents had adapted well in to crewing ultras. They know exactly what to do and say, and absolutely love that they encourage and support my ultra endeavors.
It was dark, cold, and slow. I remembered this section, the section I was previously lost on. Now I had Long and he knew where to go. We got to the flat section of the trail where I remembered standing confused earlier that day wondering which way to go, and that was my struggle then. The current struggle was to keep moving. Since I had been pretty slow since the half way point, I remember Long clearly asking me how I would feel if I didn't make the cutoff for this aid station. I panicked. "WHY!?" I said. "Because we might not make it". Without any question or thought, the pace picked up. From slow to picking my feet off the ground in a faster manner, but in my mind I felt fast. Before I got to the aid station, there was a woman calling another woman's name. She had done this many times on the stretch to the aid station. We responded with "No, not her" many times. The poor woman seemed panicked to not know where her runner was. I pulled into the aid station, game face on, parents cheering and surrounding me. This all happened in a flash before a man walked up to me.
"Sorry, you missed the cut-off time by 10 minutes, we can't let you go on. How do you feel?"
The combination of these words was confusing and shocking. I had no expression. I had no words.
I stood there for a bit, and in the next moment I was sitting. Blanket over me, head in my hands, not knowing what to do or think. Emotionless and expressionless. My parents finally decided I should go, and with the help of my dad and Long, they picked me up and I went to the car. We drove back to the house we were staying at, changed to a dry, warm shirt, and wrapped blankets over me as I was shivering and cold from the night and from not fueling.
I did not want to move, or eat. I felt defeated. I had nothing to give or nothing to do. I was lost, confused, sad. My parents went to get soup and tea for me to have as eating and drinking would reassure them I would be okay. As soon as they left I lost it. I cried and buried my face. Thankfully Long was still there, just hugging me and holding me as I cried. The mental picture of me running back through the arch didn't happen, the fun celebration of seeing my accomplished fellow runners never happened, nor the glorious finishers hat. Nothing.
I slept horribly that night after eating some soup and drinking some tea. I flipped my phone face down as seeing all the "congratulation"s texts and "how did it go?" questions poured in. I couldn't muster up telling people I was a failure and I didn't finish what I set out to do. I woke up with sharp pains, and a rude awakening in the middle of the night of the fire alarm. Great. I can hardly walk, let alone save myself from said fire. I shuffled my way down the stairs. My mom was sleeping downstairs to avoid the ever present snoring of my dad. "Where's the fire?!" I muttered. She reassured me that there was no fire. I was the only one, besides my mom that woke up. I shuffled back up and went right to bed.
I slept in the next day, having no purpose to be anywhere or do anything in a hurry. We ate breakfast, and chatted for a bit and my parents planned to do their own activities for the day. I thanked them for their support and for coming, and apologized for wasting their time. Of course, they never thought that. They are so proud of me, and I can never forget that. Ever.
The week after was tough. I remember crying a lot and feeling this deep nothingness as I just sat. "What is wrong with me?" I thought. I remember crying a lot that week too. It also wasn't long until I finally decided to respond to all the people who cared about my race. I told them what happened. And it was their responses, whether in text or in person, that picked me out of the rut I was in. Words of positivity and encouragement flooded in. They were still proud of me and were still amazed at that I had done. Even stepping up to the start line and registering for it. It was then I realized that I am truly blessed and continuously uplifted by my friends, family, and the trail running community.
What was next? I was encouraged by my friends to run icebox. Another fall race?! I had to sit on that one... well... I didn't have to sit for long! I registered. I told myself "Have fun!, that's it! that is ALL you have to do!". That's all I had at Icebox, it was fun! The love was back, and I couldn't have been happier! It was at this time that I also registered for my next big chapter, Zumbro 100.
What did I take away from Wild Duluth? Well, I believe everything happens for a reason: good and bad, happy and sad, highs and lows. To be honest, I needed this. I needed to humble myself. This course and race humbled me. I learned to go back to why I run ultras and trails. It's because I love them. I'm not fast, nor do I care to be. I just love running. The only person I am 'racing' against is me. I learned that courage takes on many shapes, and for me it was overcoming a DNF. It shaped me mentally to adapt to future race situations. I also learned that there will always be races. I don't have to do a certain number every year. I also am still struggling and deciding whether or not to 'redeem' this race. I definitely have to think about it more ... or less.. I'm great at over thinking everything. IF I decide to take it on again, I will definitely train more climbing muscles and focus on strength training and hill repeats. Wild Duluth course is a lot of climbing and an aggressive cut-off.
You can watch the 'Courage, a Wild Duluth Story' by clicking here. Courtesy of Fresh Tracks Media.
With Love for the trails,
-Doe
Training through the rest of the summer, or what was left of it transitioning to the fall was fine. I wouldn't call it more than that. I started to feel like I was getting burnt out, and letting that feeling overtake me a bit. I would start to question why the hell I set my alarm for 4:45 and would meet people to run at 5:00/5:30 some mornings, avoiding the humidity or rushing in to work covered in muck and mosquito bites. I feared loosing the spark that made me fall in love with the trails in the first place. "After Wild Duluth, I am not going to race for awhile" I thought to myself, to not ever have the lingering 'burnt out' thoughts again. This seemed like a good plan.
The remaining few weeks leading up to Wild Duluth were fun, Long and I went up to Duluth to preview part of the course. If there is one trail I always feel alive and beaten up on at the same time, it's the Superior Hiking Trail. I am continuously blown away by the beauty and the terror of that trail- and by terror I mean the amount of roots, rocks, and all of nature's tricks it likes to play. I digress, we sampled part of the course that I had never been on before (of course, with the expanse of the trail, I have only had a small taste of the hundreds of miles the SHT offers!) But had to do a lot of it solo, since Long was still recovering from his 100 mile victory in September on the same trail, but a different section (Gooseberry to Lutsen). This was one of the most difficult parts of my training, doing it alone. I don't mind being by myself, but when it comes to directions and the unknown, those are not my strong suit. He told me to keep following the blue blazes (and thank goodness the SHT is well marked, they gave me comfort during training and the Wild Duluth race). He dropped me off at a point, told me where it would go, and that we would be parked along the way making sure I made it to each point. Bless his soul, I was glad he knew the trail better than my anxiety amplified 'you know nothing' map illustrated in my mind. I was off on my own, and despite my journey into the unknown, I felt confident, my find turned from 'freak out' to 'switch off' mode, meaning my brain just focused on the beautiful scenery, breathing, and the blue blazes. I loved it. I loved seeing people out on the trail, the sound of rushing water, and my steps as I went along. I met Long at the first point and was all smiles. I loved this! He told me to keep going, and drove off to the next point. This is where everything got chaotic. All of a sudden, there was a crowd of people, a lot of foot traffic, and apparently a fair going on. I was engulfed in casually clothed people who were trying to enjoy a nice Sunday while I was muddy and sweaty trying to find where in the world the trail connects! I ran back and forth, and repeated this many times until I finally got so frustrated and turned around and called Long. lost and confused, I started trekking back to the place I started getting lost. He found me probably looking like a lost puppy. He told me where to go, following the signs, rather than looking for blue blazes.. or one or the other. At this point I was frustrated: huffing and puffing about not having it well marked. I ventured on, knowing where to go once I was on the trail, but the road connections were lost on me. I was glad Long met me at these points, but was also a roller-coaster of feeling confident in my navigational abilities, and then feeling like a puppy wondering where to go. At one point of the trails, it was closed off and rerouted due to trees being cut down. I decided to call it quits after that point because I didn't want Long to be at the point wondering where I was and I didn't want to be at the end of a trail wondering where he was. Good call. We had a late lunch/dinner and relaxed a bit before ending our adventurous day trip up to Duluth for training.
October 13th, 2016.
I drove up with Long to Duluth, with my parents coming up later that day to join us. I felt good, the usual pre-race anxiety and excitement that builds up internally and works itself outwardly in being anywhere from goofy, extremely quiet as I am visualizing the race, or as I later learned, highly irritable and extreme introvert mode. We stopped at Ely Peak to do a shake out run/climb. As he wanted me to be prepared for the steepest part of the course, as I would have to conqueror it twice in a day. I loved climbing and running back down. The fall colors were amazing, and I absolutely loved running back down. I felt like I was flying as the wind was wild and the feeling of running down hill (I got goosebumps thinking about it again). It is moments like this where I feel most alive and free, and the reason I love trail running. We then ate at our favorite Duluth dining establishment, Duluth Grill. The day progressed and packet pick up was completed. My parents arrived, and they got settled and we started preparing for dinner. Julio and Joe also joined us for the dinner as they were both participating in the race as well. We talked, ate, and talked some more, and after dinner I was shot. I wanted nothing more then to be in a dark room and peacefully fall asleep. This didn't happen until much later than expected. Getting a good night's sleep before a big race has never happened for me, but all the adrenaline and excitement around the race keeps me going. I woke up that morning ready to eat a big breakfast, drink coffee, drink water, pee more times than I can remember, and prepare myself to head out the door.
The start/finish area was chilly. I remember shivering wondering if the whole race would be like this. I saw familiar faces and new ones, and Long taking video shots and asking his friends interview questions. My parents were there, so were some of the 50k runners who were starting later. The race director gave a short briefing, then instructed us to group outside of the arch, where the countdown would start. I was so excited to start this new journey! The longest distance I will have gone so far! The thought made me smile. I love ultras! These runners are great! The countdown happened before I knew it and we were off! I stayed towards the back as instructed to do so by Long, who always informs me to stay behind the faster runners. I was okay with this! the first 6 miles I remember was a mixture of running roads and a lot of climbing. I remember feeling cold at the start, and now I was hot and sweaty. The temperature felt strange to me, but the sun had not come up yet and I was feeling good. I said my good mornings as I passed some runners, and I talked to those who were at my pace, or at whose pace I wanted to follow. A lot of the people I talked to had the goal of just finishing the race. In my mind, I was determined to place in my age group, since there was not a lot of people doing the 100k my age. Lofty goal, but in my mind, achievable. Just 'finishing' for me was not enough.
The first stretch to the aid station seemed like it took forever. I had to remind myself that every aid station is a celebration to get to. The oasis in the desert! Filled with volunteers, friends, and the occasional appearance of my parents. Eating, talking, and heading back out was the goal, no lingering around at aid stations for me. I was on the clock! The weather seemed to be getting more hot and humid, but it didn't seem to occur to me to change anything in my mind.. I was drinking and eating enough to my standards, but later would realize this is where I needed to change things.
Going through Hartley park, I remember the race director saying, "ring the peace bell if you want!" I remember the sound of it on a previous training run though that beautiful park. I rang it, knowing that my main goal was to have fun. A runner past me, hooting and hollering at the sound. "That is going to sound even better when we come back this way" I told her.
The next aid station of sorts was two water cooler jugs filled with water on a table. In previous emails, this aid station was hard to get to since it was on Spirit Mountain, and on top of that there were not enough volunteers to aid the aid station. I did not need anything except to pee, really bad. I walked into the chalet and asked if I could use the bathroom. This was my oasis in the desert: an establishment with running water. I left the chalet and immediately went back out on the trail.. to a dead end. I heard a voice say "this way!" It was Long who found his way to the stop! I was laughing because not only did he make it to the aid station, he also knew which way I was supposed to go! Bless his navigational soul. I trekked on, following close behind three other runners I was tagging behind for a majority of the race. At one of the forks, I was unsure which way to go, as the directional sign had fallen over. I tried to think of which was the sign was facing if it was standing up, not trying to mess with putting the sign back up, as I was unsure of the right direction. I decided to go the way the arrow was pointing even on the ground, I turned and continued on. I then hesitated and started trekking backwards.. which I hate doing, but rather be on the right track versus running a mile or more in the wrong direction and loosing time and energy. Thankfully a runner behind me reassured me of the right direction, and we ventured on. Time went on, dropping in and out of conversations, being in my head and out, and at one point crossing paths with the 50k runners. I knew some of them and we exchanged quick high fives and encouraging words. Julio ran passed me, and the runner behind me also knew him, a conversation starter! As much as I am an introvert, the trails are sprinkled with interesting characters who always have good stories. This keeps me out of my own head and enjoying the miles as they go by a lot faster. Eventually we stopped talking because we would pass each other enough where we couldn't keep a long conversation. The half way point felt like it was taking forever to get to, and for me it was. Yikes, I felt slow. Really slow. I would pick up the pace for a bit and then for some reason, I would fast hike. I would yell at myself, "why are you walking?!" then run. This cycle happened for a bit, until I caught up with a woman whom I had been following for a while. We talked a lot, and had a lot of interesting history on the trails. While with all good intentions, she seemed to be in a bad mood and really forcing the half way point cut-off time on herself. "It's almost 1:00 and the aid station cut off is 3:00." She then took off. I remember this section more than any other section. This was the bike trails. Filled with more ups and downs then an old rickety roller coaster, and bricks as well. Man, this was tough. "You can drop out at the half way point, why not?" WHAT!? Why were these thoughts here? I had NEVER even once considered dropping a race. Negative thoughts were flooding. I had no backup plan, I was annoyed and in pain, with no plan or intention of crawling out. As I was getting closer to the turn around, a lot of friends were already cheerfully (and looking pain-free) passing me to head back to the start. Exchanging quick "Good job! How are you?" questions, I always answered okay. I was just okay.
At reaching the halfway point, I was in a bit of a reality shock. I started to tear up. I was in pain, I realized how hard this was. It took me this long in the race to find out first-hand, that this race was rugged, it beat you up, and it was tough. Kari was there giving me reassuring words and enough ginger candies to feed an army. I thanked her for her help and encouragement. My stomach was finally getting the punches, as I was not fueling or hydrating properly. Hugs were welcomed, and I was off, worried as always about the cut-off time. Here came the pee trigger again, but in this winding arena where cyclists roamed, there was no safe spot to go! I was eating, contemplating, and wondering how I was going to make this cut-off time.
"Come run with us!" Two men hollered from a distance as we were winding and weaving past each other on this never ending bike terrain. I eventually caught up to them, and we talked. These men, whoever they were, were the most positive people I had met all day. I immediately felt calmer and better. The amazing people in the trail community can be extremely encouraging and everyone wants everyone to succeed. We talked for a good stretch of time, leap-frogging the power lines, and the remainder of the time until I felt good enough to push myself. I thanked them for their encouragement and told them I would see them at the finish. I pressed on.
I remember texting Long to bring me t.p., because nature was calling and I forgot to pick up my t.p. baggie at the last drop bag (whoops). And I also wanted to text my good friend Marey to see if she reached her half marathon goal. She did it!!! I was so happy for her!!! I told her that I needed to go, bad, and that I was 40-ish miles in excited to pick up my pacer (Long) at the next aid station. The next thing I remember about this stretch is Long running so fast (faster than usual) to find me and hand me the toilet paper. I was in a panic because I thought this was 'muling' and that I would be disqualified. He reassured me it wasn't and I proceeded to go in the woods. Nothing. Dammit stomach what is going on!? I felt like an air balloon. Gross. Eating more did not feel like an option, nor did drinking.
I got in to the next aid station, and my parents and Long were there. I took a look at my feet as I thought I had a large blister. Nothing. I think my mind is extremely good at playing tricks on me, as tiny things get elevated in my mind. I changed my socks, put on my shoes, ate more food, and realized that Long couldn't pace me until the next aid station. I felt sad, I had to wait, but press on. I felt more fatigued, less energetic, and a flood of emotions. For some reason, I had a reel of flashbacks of people that called me 'crazy' for running ultras. this made me sad to the point where tears were developing. Why crazy, why not amazed? In awe? We call things crazy in line of things we do not know or do not understand. I wish those people knew the feeling of running trails and accomplishing the impossible made possible.
The next aid station! Yes, my pacer, boyfriend, and lifter of spirits (and master of making trail potstickers, YUM). Potstickers and coconut water saved me for what I had left, along with the delicious little ginger candies Kari gave me. These little friends gave me spurts that made me feel great! Made a mental note to get some of those for future races.
Climbing back up Ely was a struggle. A big one. I remember seeing the two men that I previously ran with glide past me as their pacer was leading them. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped as I watched them glide up Ely, they made it look so easy! Then there was me, trudging along, weaving all over the place, as I was dehydrated and not eating as much as I should have. Long kept motivating me as much as he could. and at one point, we stopped to put on headlamps as my night vision/vision in general was not the best.
I started to see tiny black frogs everywhere. Doing a dance while moving forward to avoid stepping on them, or most of them. "Why are there so many little frogs?!" I asked Long. "Where?" he asked. I left it at that. Did not want to argue about things that seemed irrelevant (or in this case, a hallucination).
I was slow-going due to lack of food. No food, no energy. I was beat. I was slow. I remember at one point hearing my dad cheer as Long and I trotted along, His voice in the night was awesome to hear. My parents had adapted well in to crewing ultras. They know exactly what to do and say, and absolutely love that they encourage and support my ultra endeavors.
It was dark, cold, and slow. I remembered this section, the section I was previously lost on. Now I had Long and he knew where to go. We got to the flat section of the trail where I remembered standing confused earlier that day wondering which way to go, and that was my struggle then. The current struggle was to keep moving. Since I had been pretty slow since the half way point, I remember Long clearly asking me how I would feel if I didn't make the cutoff for this aid station. I panicked. "WHY!?" I said. "Because we might not make it". Without any question or thought, the pace picked up. From slow to picking my feet off the ground in a faster manner, but in my mind I felt fast. Before I got to the aid station, there was a woman calling another woman's name. She had done this many times on the stretch to the aid station. We responded with "No, not her" many times. The poor woman seemed panicked to not know where her runner was. I pulled into the aid station, game face on, parents cheering and surrounding me. This all happened in a flash before a man walked up to me.
"Sorry, you missed the cut-off time by 10 minutes, we can't let you go on. How do you feel?"
The combination of these words was confusing and shocking. I had no expression. I had no words.
I stood there for a bit, and in the next moment I was sitting. Blanket over me, head in my hands, not knowing what to do or think. Emotionless and expressionless. My parents finally decided I should go, and with the help of my dad and Long, they picked me up and I went to the car. We drove back to the house we were staying at, changed to a dry, warm shirt, and wrapped blankets over me as I was shivering and cold from the night and from not fueling.
I did not want to move, or eat. I felt defeated. I had nothing to give or nothing to do. I was lost, confused, sad. My parents went to get soup and tea for me to have as eating and drinking would reassure them I would be okay. As soon as they left I lost it. I cried and buried my face. Thankfully Long was still there, just hugging me and holding me as I cried. The mental picture of me running back through the arch didn't happen, the fun celebration of seeing my accomplished fellow runners never happened, nor the glorious finishers hat. Nothing.
I slept horribly that night after eating some soup and drinking some tea. I flipped my phone face down as seeing all the "congratulation"s texts and "how did it go?" questions poured in. I couldn't muster up telling people I was a failure and I didn't finish what I set out to do. I woke up with sharp pains, and a rude awakening in the middle of the night of the fire alarm. Great. I can hardly walk, let alone save myself from said fire. I shuffled my way down the stairs. My mom was sleeping downstairs to avoid the ever present snoring of my dad. "Where's the fire?!" I muttered. She reassured me that there was no fire. I was the only one, besides my mom that woke up. I shuffled back up and went right to bed.
I slept in the next day, having no purpose to be anywhere or do anything in a hurry. We ate breakfast, and chatted for a bit and my parents planned to do their own activities for the day. I thanked them for their support and for coming, and apologized for wasting their time. Of course, they never thought that. They are so proud of me, and I can never forget that. Ever.
The week after was tough. I remember crying a lot and feeling this deep nothingness as I just sat. "What is wrong with me?" I thought. I remember crying a lot that week too. It also wasn't long until I finally decided to respond to all the people who cared about my race. I told them what happened. And it was their responses, whether in text or in person, that picked me out of the rut I was in. Words of positivity and encouragement flooded in. They were still proud of me and were still amazed at that I had done. Even stepping up to the start line and registering for it. It was then I realized that I am truly blessed and continuously uplifted by my friends, family, and the trail running community.
What was next? I was encouraged by my friends to run icebox. Another fall race?! I had to sit on that one... well... I didn't have to sit for long! I registered. I told myself "Have fun!, that's it! that is ALL you have to do!". That's all I had at Icebox, it was fun! The love was back, and I couldn't have been happier! It was at this time that I also registered for my next big chapter, Zumbro 100.
What did I take away from Wild Duluth? Well, I believe everything happens for a reason: good and bad, happy and sad, highs and lows. To be honest, I needed this. I needed to humble myself. This course and race humbled me. I learned to go back to why I run ultras and trails. It's because I love them. I'm not fast, nor do I care to be. I just love running. The only person I am 'racing' against is me. I learned that courage takes on many shapes, and for me it was overcoming a DNF. It shaped me mentally to adapt to future race situations. I also learned that there will always be races. I don't have to do a certain number every year. I also am still struggling and deciding whether or not to 'redeem' this race. I definitely have to think about it more ... or less.. I'm great at over thinking everything. IF I decide to take it on again, I will definitely train more climbing muscles and focus on strength training and hill repeats. Wild Duluth course is a lot of climbing and an aggressive cut-off.
You can watch the 'Courage, a Wild Duluth Story' by clicking here. Courtesy of Fresh Tracks Media.
With Love for the trails,
-Doe
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