After an abysmal performance at Superior 2021 (dropped 26 miles in), I was pretty deflated. I still had a ticket for a 24 hour obstacle race in Laughlin, NV that was next on the docket. I drove out there; and ran Worlds Toughest Mudder for a 6th time. The event helped me gain a bit of confidence back from the ass-kicking I was handed in September 2021 at Superior. I ran comfortably to 50 miles at WTM and generally enjoyed myself. With the completion of a 50 mile event; I now had a qualifier to once again apply to run the Superior 100 in 2022.
I wasn't thinking too clearly, as I signed up for the Superior Lottery 100, and Zumbro 100 on the same day around New Years. I guess I thought I wouldn't get selected 2 years in a row for Superior. Zumbro on the other hand is during the cold wet months of spring in MN and doesn't get the interest like Superior, so no lottery needed there. I got lucky as my name was once again drawn in the lottery for Superior 100 (Once picked, you're in) and I still had a ticket to Zumbro.
Spring rolled around and I traveled out to Zumbro, MN. The cold spring event was at a venue I had never visited; but I had trained harder and felt much more confident about this race. A solid attempt, completing 5 of 6 laps, but once again fell short. I had yet to complete my first 100; however this time it was a failure in the positive direction; completing 83/100 miles and walking away with a few small things that needed to be changed.
With that failure, I moved into the summer months and continued to consistently train with my eyes set on the Superior 100. Training was consistent; something missing from the previous year. Spite an ankle sprain and a tweaked lower back mid-summer; I still managed to add a 53 Mile Mountain Race in July (Last Call 50). Completing that event was a huge confidence booster and reinforced the work I was putting in.
Hard work didn't stop until 2 week before Superior; and in August I put up my biggest month ever running close to 180 miles over 27/30 days.
Superior 100 Elevation Profile - If a person says Minnesota doesn't have elevation; they've never ran Superior
Lets just throw this out there. I do not consider myself a real runner. Any race I attend, I'm filled with doubt. I feel like I shouldn't be standing at a start line surrounded by real athletes. Spite all the races, and training described above; I almost pulled out of Superior 100 after failing at Zumbro. I left everything I had on that course and I fell 17 miles short of the finish. Chalk it up to being too heavy (235lbs), chalk it up to age; chalk it up to lack of athleticism, or working a sedentary job, its strange. This feeling never goes away and although I know I must run my own race, it always haunts me a little as I always run with a cloud of self doubt. Even signed up, i didn't know if a 100 miler finish was in the cards for someone like me.
At the tail end of Zumbro I spoke with a few of the TREC's (Trail Runners of Elm Creek) about how Ultra Running maybe wasn't for me, and maybe a 100 mile isn't achievable; I was ready to give up. I am thankful for them, along with my Wife, and my friends whom all talked me off the ledge. Ultra running, at its core is having an unrelenting persistence in the most adverse of conditions. I.E. Don't Give Up.
To Quote Batman Begins, "Alfred Pennyworth : Why do we fall sir? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up. "
Photo by Kent Keller
Arriving to MN on Wednesday before the race felt much less rushed than the previous year when I arrived on a Thursday.
I was able to get out and shoot pictures of a lake superior sunrise and sunset and 'relax' heading into what I expected to be a 32-38 hour race.
Was I ready for 103+ miles? Sure didn't feel like it. Even so i had put in the work; and showed up to race.
One thing was Certain, it was going to be cooler than 2021. Also....it was going to rain close to an inch.
Photo by Scott Rokis
Photo by Kent Keller
Trading the sunny blue skies of 2021 for clouds and rain; the energy, of 2022 actually felt higher. More spectators, more runners, less Covid. When nervous or stressed I find humor to be my outlet; so I elected wear a umbrella hat. Little did I know, I would see people cheering me as "Umbrella hat guy" well into Saturday, and served as an indirect marker for placement of their runners. Cosmetic in nature, it kept the rain off my head and out of my eyes, but that was about it.
The first 30 miles, wet or not went off great. I ran my own race; I controlled my pace and I generally felt pretty damn good. After leaving the start line all the nerves quickly disappear and I tend to settle into my element. Thousands of hours of practice has led to this one moment; hopefully some form of redemption and validation, where the only competitor is yourself.
Turning off the 4 miles of road (the only road of the entire course) and heading up Split Rock; the rain poured and the trail was a river of slippery clay, mud, sticks and rocks. There was no dry feet at the split rock river crossing this year; as the river was about 18" higher than the previous year. I felt like an adventurer running through a jungle or a rain forest; not the trails of Northern Minnesota.
Thorough Split Rock and onto Beaver Bay and then Sliver Bay the rain continued. Trail was a mix of wet rock; well draining gravel; and slippery wooden boards, mud and swamp. Sloshing and slogging my way; I took a fall around mile 18 breaking my now famous 'umbrella hat'.
Photo by David Markman
Bear and Bean Lake around Mile 35
Photo by Scott Rokis
Top Photo by Scott Rokis Bottom Photo by David Markman
The rain came to a stop somewhere around Bear and Bean Lake; roughly mile 30 or so. It must have been between 2 or 3pm in the afternoon. This is one of the first sections of the Superior hiking trail I had ever hiked; and it seemed a lot easier than I remembered (A good thing!).
Heading into Tettegouche State Park there was a re-route that added 1.8 miles. The swinging suspension bridge above the falls was washed out earlier in the year; so we were routed through some of the park, and through a long bush-wacked path of weed whipped swamp grass (the Race Director had to do all of this by hand, thanks John!) to highway 61 to cross at the main bridge. This section was a swampy muddy mess from the rain, and in one section of 18" Deep water and dark mud I lost my shoe and spent 5 minutes digging it out, getting it 'rinsed' and back on my foot the best I could. Minor set backs didn't get to me this year and I pressed on. Shortly after the missing shoe debacle; we hit the aid station. They had Quesadilla's wrapped in tin foil which was excellent for taking one on the go. These were HUGE, like I just ordered them from a restaurant. it was an excellent lunch and the first 'real' food I had eaten since the start of the race.
The climb out of Tettegouche toward county road 6 was a tough section. Big ups and downs, and big technical rock. I spent some time traversing the terrain with Kevin Langton, who actually wrote a book on the Superior 100 (check it out, its a good read). I distinctly recall he was fascinated by a passing cluster of mushrooms; something so easily overlooked when running on such a complex trail. The attention to detail of that little nuisance made me realize that even if I run the entire race; there is so much that I'm still going to miss. Part of the experience when you're alone in the woods for 36 hours is the people you get to meet along the way, and Kevin was one of many I had meaningful conversations with as we enjoyed the beauty and rawness of the North Shore.
Not long after we separated the sun went down; and the darkness and fog engulfed me. Running in a bubble, headlamp illuminating the rocks and roots; and nothing else; this section felt slow as I worked my way to County Road 6. You hear this aid station well before reaching it, it somewhat messed with my head.
Hitting County road 6, I got to see a co-worker (Laura) who was volunteering for the weekend. I'm not sure who was more surprised that I made it to mile 42; Me or Her. I would see Laura again working an aid station at mile 96; which reminds me how awesome all the 300+ volunteers are at the Superior Trail Race. The aid stations are amazing, and the volunteers will do everything to make your race as easy as it can be; and they give up their time for your success. This is a community of good people built over time, proof that doing good things fosters more good things.
Between County Road 6 and Finland I pulled out my Trekking poles, and after about 2 miles I slipped into a larger boulder; Between myself and the boulder was the left pole, snapping into 3 pieces. I would not use poles the remainder of the race; relying solely on the strength of my legs for the remaining 55 miles. Another possible 'set-back' that I didn't let get to me.
Coming into Finland my Wife/ and Father (Both Crewing for me) were there ready with a very much needed change of clothes as I had been running in wet soggy clothes for about 14 hours. Just clean cloths after 15 hours of running is a glorious moment. I am very thankful they waited for me at every aid station they could; with nutrition, clothes, and everything I may or may not need. It was always a nice site to see them as the race got longer, slower and harder. Their excitement seeing me succeed gave me energy.
All races have defining moments; 100 milers have many it seems. This was a BIG ONE. Mile 52, half way; picking up my pacer just past 11PM. I struggled to find a pacer for this years superior 100. I had 2 people scheduled to pace; but life gets in the way; and they had to back out. When this happened I reached out to an old high school friend who I have ran with occasionally in the past at Afton and Ragnar; Steve Sworsky. He jumped in willing to help with no hesitation. Steve had never ran 50 miles; but he was damn determined to pace the entire second half. I figured I would be power hiking the second half as it was; and he was willing to put up with me!
Photo by Michelle Haupert
Right after leaving Finland, the trail was surprisingly runnable; but that doesn't last long at Superior. I made the mistake of packing a long sleeve for nightfall and I was running exceptionally hot. whenever a headlamp was on me; I could see waves of steam rolling off my shoulders and arms. This forced me to slow our pace, but we kept on moving. Steve was exceptionally patient as I knew he has fresh legs and was ready to fly. The Sonju aid station gave us a pretty tasty mini-slider with ketchup, and a pickle. The bad part, it made me feel sick. I kept it down; but I forced Steve to walk slow for about 20 minutes while it wrestle with my stomach. Having to eat all the time for so many hours in a row; you're bound to run into something your stomach doesn't agree with; for me it was this 2AM hamburger slider. All I remember around this section of course is tree roots, and being tired.
Photo by Scott Rokis
The night is a bit of blur as we pressed on uphill downhill, big climbs, small climbs, big rocks, small rocks. Steve and I would flip flop who led; just based on how tired I was feeling at any given time; he did an awesome job pressing my pace just enough to keep me moving; but not enough to make me sick. It's just moving forward with purpose. Leaving Crosby Manitou, I recall that section to Sugarloaf being the most difficult of the entire 100 mile course. It was humid; the rocks and roots were slippery; the climbs and descents were steep and the rocks were large. Uphill's hammered the legs and lungs, while the downhills hammered the knees and toes. This was a slow 10 mile section to Sugar Loaf; and we were not the only ones out there feeling it. I also remembering this being a beautiful section and should really visit this park some day during the light.
With persistence and time; the sun rises; and when it did it was a welcoming site. By the time we hit Cramer Road Aid Station there was 26.2 Miles remaining. They offered us bacon, pancakes and hash-browns for breakfast (AMAZING) ; and the toughest sections were behind us. Our crew who had left us for the night sections to get some well deserved rest were now back; cheering us on, and giving us red bull and encouragement. Getting a 2nd wind is a real thing; and mine showed up about 2 hours after sunrise Saturday morning. My feet at this point were killing me; so I did shoe switch, which later I switched back due to it being a mistake; but no mistakes I made during this race were fatal. This is a big part due to having our crew follow us from aid station to aid station and having the flexibility to fix a mistake after 6-10 miles at the next aid station.
Onto Temperance; the heat of Saturday now upon us as we slowed due to fatigue but kept on moving forward. Climbing Carlton Peak out of Temperance river state park was a toasty section; as we passed tons of vacationers and some 100 milers that were really struggling. (Another gorgeous park!) At this point; Steve and I had a mantra; and that was; we were walking towards our bed. The finish line faded away; the distance didn't matter; we just knew if we walked far enough; for long enough we would eventually Hit Lutsen, and our Beds.
Sore feet face (Left) from technical trails (right)
Coming up on Oberg, was the first time i really started to taste the finish line. I had passed the 'longest' run I've ever done, 83 miles (Steve too as his previous long was around 50K); with that said, both of us were still moving fairly well. Confidence, and self belief was finally to set in. Once again I got to see our crew, my co-worker, and a bunch of old running friends. Oberg was like a mini-reunion; plus they had potstickers!
Leaving Oberg, my wife Michelle Joined as as we can have 2 pacers. She had crewed all day and night and was ready to get out and experience the course. We chugged along step by step knowing we still had to climb moose and mystery mountain; hoping to finish before the sun went down.
Missing our 20yr high school reunion
Photo by Scott Rokis
Honestly the last section of course was pretty nice, not too technical and although 1 big climb; wasn't awful. It was late afternoon so the temperatures had slid a little. I was exhausted; and hearing things. Steve was hallucinating extensively, seeing leaves melting off trees and every piece of wood looking like a large cats, gnomes in the woods; so he was busy focusing on the back of my heels in an attempt to keep his mind off of the weird things that were coming alive around him; whereas my hiking cadence was focused on Michelle who led the way. 50 milers were starting to run past us every fifteen minutes or so due to our sedated pace but their constant passing words of encouragement was always great.
With 1 mile to go we finally kicked out onto a gravel access road; 99 miles of trail since I last had seen a road. At this moment I said, 'LETS RUN IT IN!' After .2 miles of jogging; I had to request all of us to walk again; as my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I started to hike-cry a bit; as the realization I was finally going to finish this impossible feat was setting in. For me, I was happy my emotional wave of success happened 15 minutes before the finish line; and in true Superior 100 fashion; I managed to power hike through my emotional rollercoaster while it happened.
We crossed the finish line almost exactly at sunset. The Sky behind us as we rolled into Lutsen was a orange and pink hue with some beautiful clouds cascading across the sky. The warm soft hue of the sky was a welcoming end to a very long race.
Crossing the finish at 730PM on Saturday at roughly 104 miles, and too much elevation change on my legs. My Pacer who ran 51 miles; and my crew who ran the last 7 all of us, excited to achieve this goal together. The roar of cheers as we jog in; support from the amazing Rock Steady Running Community, I was handed my buckle and finisher medal. I think my next request was, "I need to sit down".
Thank you to everyone who helped me achieved this goal, especially my Wife who is always so damn supportive. Overall I still cannot believe I did it. This race was my 'Everest'.
As I sit here writing this blog; I still cannot believe I just achieved what I would consider the impossible.