Friday afternoon
Chris, his father, and myself started the long drive up from the Twin Cities. Having never done this race before I was anticipating a trip similar to Duluth, little did I know that it would be about twice that far. The drive along the North Shore of Lake Superior was beautiful with the Fall colors just starting to arrive, and the time was well spent deciding which aid stations Chris and I would have support at, and where we thought the toughest sections of the course would be. We arrived at our campground, pitched the tent, and then heading up to the ski lodge to check in and grab our packets. The low key atmosphere made this race a real treat, and of course the t-shirts were fantastic. Afterwards we drove up to Grand Marais to eat at Sven and Ole's Pizza, a standard Northern Minnesota treat and a definite stop if you're ever in that area. Once the pizza was destroyed it was straight back to the campground to set every alarm on our cellphones and get some much needed rest.The Race
We're jarred awake at five by two different beeping tones plus some 80's rap, yes that was my phone, and we stumble out into the morning to head to the start. As we arrive at the parking lot we're told that the 100 mile winner has already completed the course, that really stops me in my tracks and I think about how I would approach that distance in 2013. There are some last minute instructions, a short countdown, and we're off on the gravel road for a short distance before we veer sharply to the left and onto the Superior Hiking Trail. Chris and I are caught near the back, but since that's where we belong neither of us minds. About 40 minutes into the run Chris darts off into the woods telling me that, "the pressure is building." Nothing like trail running to bring down the boundaries between friends, I step to the side and let runners slowly stream past me as the sun starts to rise.Back on the trail we get caught in some brief downpours and again I think about the 100 milers still on the course, nobody wants to get drenched right before they finish. Swearing at the sky becomes more frequent, but every time we break through the trees and traverse a ridge overlooking miles of forest the rain becomes a minor inconvenience, this really is one of the most stunning runs I've been on. Most of the time we're staring straight at the ground waiting for the particularly clever root that will grab our feet and throw us to the ground, a few almost succeed but after a couple attempts at these distances we've both learned to stay aware.
We're running behind a women from St. Paul and enjoying the company when suddenly she jumps in the air, starts to yell, and takes off down the trail. Wondering what the heck is going on we stumble right into the swarm of hornets that were nesting on the ground, and suddenly the ultra shuffle becomes the ultra sprint...at least until we can get away from the stingers. Heading down the hill we hear the people behind us yell in pain and surprise, and all three of us quietly laugh about our shared misery.
The day passes, Chris's father meets us with pizza at 33 miles, and we start the torturous climb up Moose Mountain and head towards the finish. We left the 45 mile aid station after the mandatory headlamp time, but we're both wearing them backwards because we're so close and don't want to finish with our headlamps on, neither of us really can explain why. The trail abruptly turns into another dirt road, we've arrived at the service access to Caribou Highlands Resort. The dirt turns into pavement and our weary knees start to scream as we hammer the last little bit of the race. Near the end we almost go the wrong way down a hill, but fortunately there are some rowdy finishers on the hotel balconies and they scream to stop us. We both see the banner at the same time and try to plant our feet at the same instant, later we'll find out that the timer gives Chris a one second advantage instead of arranging our names alphabetically and we'll laugh about how he finally beats me, but for right now all we can hear is people cheering, and all we can see is Chris's dad waiting on the other side of the line, a hug for his son and a handshake for me. The winners probably could have run half the race again by the time we finish, but at 14:00:52 I'm so happy to cross the line that I couldn't care less, and neither could they. People who have been at the finish for hours come up to congratulate us and give us our post-race meal, sandwiches from a cooler that haven't fully thawed out yet. For the first time since six in the the morning I can stop moving and just sit down, although getting up later will be a big problem.
