Tl;dr: I finally ran 100 miles in the land of cheese curds, frozen custard, and amazing beer.
Many, many thanks to my awesome crew, Corey and Doris, and my fantastic pacer, Katie! Also Jeremy, for making sure we got where we needed to go and didn’t die. The following pictures and videos are a mix of all our shots.
64th out of 101 finishers, 251 starters
Prologue: We will, we will rock you
Meredith and I had a conversation circa 2012. It went like this:
“Hey, do you want to pace me in a 50 mile race?” Meredith asked.
“People don't run that far, do they?” was all I said.
Evidently, they do. Five years, one run camp, numerous 50Ks/50 milers/100Ks, and far too many viewings of “Unbreakable” later, I was finally, finally ready to run my first hundo. I'd had a few false starts (DNS at Rio 2015, Headlands Hundred 2016) but come June 2017 I finally made it to the starting line of the Kettle Moraine healthy, happy, and trained. I'd nurtured a fascination with the 100 mile distance for many years now and the time was finally right. I was fortunate enough to be physically ready to meet the challenge. My mind, however, was not in a good state in the weeks leading up to the race. Perhaps the best description would be “existential terror.” Why would I ever want to run for a day, then a night, then into a next day? When had I ever done anything (including sleeping!) for 24-30 hours straight? What did I have to prove??
I wish I had a nice, neat answer to that question and maybe a mantra or two in my head as I was packing my bags. But life isn't an inspirational sports movie, and so I spent plenty of time wrestling with my doubts. What if I couldn't do it? What if my rockstar crew Corey and Doris and amazing pacer Katie came all the way out to help me and I choked? I had to try. I remembered that I was terrified before my first marathon and that I made it through. If I cast myself up against the rock of this enormous undertaking and I cracked, at least I would have made the effort.
As silly as it sounds, I felt like KM100 was my graduation race. I'd spent half a decade learning the ropes of how to take care of myself on the trails, and this was finally time to show what I'd learned. I'd talked a big talk while taking people to the headlands and now it was time to put my money where my mouth was. I had run 100K before and had paced friends through the night, but I had never put them together. The thought of turning around at the end of a 100K for a nighttime 37 mile run gave me the willies.
I convinced myself that couldn't fear the suffering. There would be times on the race course that were unpleasant and hopefully some that would be uplifting. All that was required of me was to stuff my face, keep moving, and rely on my friends and maybe the kindness of strangers. I mean, what else is life about?
But back to the story. Mer and I decided on the Kettle Moraine 100 mile race as an appropriate summer race for very different reasons. For me, it was to hopefully be a high point of my ultra career so far. For her, it was a practice run for her A race, the Last Annual Vol State Road race. We both agreed that it would be a great way to see the Midwest and to meet up with our Alaska run camp friend Corey. He signed up without hesitation to be crew chief extraordinaire along with my girlfriend Doris, who came out to support me and watch me destroy myself. Rounding out the roster was GGRC alum Katie Wysocky, who also instantly agreed to pace me through the night despite not having any trail racing experience. You guys rock! The race itself is two separate out and backs along the scenic Ice Age Trail for a total elevation gain of 9000 ft. Corey assured me it was a great first hundred.
The Canyons 100k came and went, and then things really started to gain momentum. In the future, I would like more than 5 weeks between A races, but this time I made it work. Natalie (http://barbellblondie.com/training/) helped me with residual soreness and Kathy (http://www.drkatherinechou.com/) worked me through the inevitable taper “injuries” (in this case, I tweaked a small muscle between my toes) Mostly I tried to keep calm and not run too much. I did make my way through some awesome running books...highly recommended!
We flew into Milwaukee and settled into our cute little house rental near Whitewater, WI for some pre race R&R. (Haha, yeah right, I was wound pretty tight!)
Much packing and repacking later, race day finally arrived.
Act I: Thunderbolts and lightning? Very very frightening. (Miles 0 to 31)
And so the day finally came.
Cue soundtrack:
Thankfully, I was too mired in last minute checklists to be super nervous. I want to say I was focused in the moment and practicing gratitude for making it to the start line, but honestly I was just too busy trying to make sure my headlamps were in the right place. Hey, whatever works!
The leadup to the race was the same as any other. And with surprisingly little fanfare, we were off!
We set out on the easy, rolling path in the still cool summer air. It was so lush! At times it felt like we were in a green tunnel of vegetation. Not many rocks on this trails, I could just let my mind wander (and try not to dwell on the fact that I’d have to run this portion 4 times during the race!) Reading assignment: keep in mind how chipper I felt here the first time through and compare it to traversing this section later in the race.
The first half marathon flew by pretty fast. My left knee starting speaking to me on the uphill, but thankfully I knew from experience this was due to a tight hip flexor (I stretched the damn thing before I set out, too!) I spent a well invested minute or two stretching it by the side of the trail, and then Corey was nice enough to meet me at an aid station with a foam roller. Thanks, Corey!
Pretty soon we busted out into some open areas on the prarie. Later on, they’d steam up but for now they were delightful!
The pack of runners I was leapfrogging had plenty of good natured banter as we made our way through the grass. One moment of hilarity is when we were stopped for about 2-3 minutes by a freight train. This promptly precipitated plenty of antics, ranging from pee photobombing, pouty faces, and comments like “IS THIS GOING TO AFFECT MY BOSTON QUALIFYING TIME?” Ah, you guys are hilarious.
And then on to the main attraction for the next half marathon: a genuine Midwestern thunderstorm! After dreading this for the last week, I actually found it quite delightful (rather than “very very frightening”) The lightning was always a good distance away, and the rain kept us nice and cool. The dirt paths hadn’t absorbed the water yet, so we could splash through puddles without fear of slipping. There were also some cool wooden boardwalks we made our way across.
I made a conscious decision here to push, putting down a few blistering sub 10 miles. :-) I knew it’d be hot, humid, and slippery later. But for now, I was loving it! Before I knew it, I was at the turnaround with my awesome and slightly damp crew. 31 miles done! I grabbed a few supplies out of my dry bag (very glad I chose that as a drop bag) and I was on my way back to the start.
Aid stations were loud, enthusiastic, and well stocked. Great work! Loved the sandwiches and nutterbutters. Also, definitely ate some cheese curds at the turnaround ;-)
Hey, look who I found!
Act II: These are the days it never rains but it pours (Miles 31-63)
One last burst from the clouds, and the rain bid us goodbye. But then the sun arrived, and that’s when things got interesting.
Midwestern sucking mud was EVERYWHERE. It’s sauna time, baby.
I went slipping up and down the hills. Then I went slipping down through the prarie. It was a little onerous. And more than a little hot. I believe it hit a humid 88 in the afternoon. Boy, was I glad I had got some heat training in. It was a very different feeling from the happy morning jaunt, and quickly became a slog. Literally.
Thankfully, the aid stations were frequent and had a bunch of ice which I stuffed in my sleeves, handhelds, and bandanas. My shirt would go from delightfully cool and soggy to tepid and soggy. Dunk shoe in mud, slosh through puddle. Rinse and repeat.
I took off after a couple of runners for a few hundred yards since they were running at a good clip. Turned out they were both named Mark and were both running the 50K. ABORT! ABORT! (I bid them a good race and dropped off their pace. whew!)
GO AWAY, SUN. NOBODY LIKES YOU.
But what about Harvey Dent???
I mostly kept motivated this section by singing a fine selection of classic rock and country songs. Don’t judge. I’d do a personal inventory every few miles and the results were the same. Legs are ok, body is strong, spirit is weak. Just keep moving. Just keep drinking. Just keep eating. You knew this part would be the worst. Just be glad you aren’t the woman puking at the top of a morraine. Hand her some ginger chews, keep moving.
So it’s time to address the most common question of “What do you think about when you run?”
It's the most, natural easy motion in the world. But at the same time it's like driving a fantastically complicated vehicle. Here’s my stream of consciousness:
Are my fluid levels ok? How about my electrolytes? Well, I had 500 ml of tailwind in the last 2 hours...was that enough sodium or should I take an S Cap? How much further until the next aid station? Do I need to pick up my headlamp yet? Is that a hot spot on my foot? Should I stop and stretch my calf? When's the last time I peed? What was the color of it? It’s a shame Gregg Allman died. But at least he doesn’t have to hear me mangle his songs right now. Sorry, Gregg.
I had a slightly unpleasant surprised at mile 47. It’s always a matter of WHEN things go wrong during these races, not IF. For me, this was finding out that my fancy Bear II drop bag had become saturated and now contained a small puddle of water. Unfortunately, this shorted out my spare battery to charge my phone and GPS watch (drat!) and turned my bag of tailwind powder into a bag of tailwind goo.
Fortunately, this let me make this amazing GIF of Corey mixing up tailwind with fresh rainwater. At least I hope it was fresh. I think you're just milking it, dude.
Anyway, here are some pretty pictures. Enjoy them and fill in all the mental grumbling in between yourself.
Those last 7 miles back to the start seemed to stretch out about a reaaaaaaaaal long time. But I did finally make it back, eager to see everyone!
Act III: Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time (Miles 63 to 82)
I got back to the start/finish at the 100K mark in rapidly improving spirits. The sun had finally almost set and I was about to get some company! It took about 15 minutes to swap packs, lance blisters, spray with bug repellant, check headlamps, and deploy poles, but that didn’t matter. I was about to get some company!!!
You are a sight for sore eyes, Katie.
The next 7 miles flew by. We were catching up about life and old friends. And it was such a relief to put my head down and follow someone; my brain was getting pretty tired by then! It was with Katie that I discovered my newest aid station treat. The nutterbutters I was chomping on earlier were great, but out of curiousity I tried their latest offering: white bread, mayo or butter, american cheese, and ham or turkey. Who would want that during a race? Me, evidently. I was putting down an entire sandwich at each aid station. Eating like a champ and feeling like one!
All too quickly it was time for Katie to take a break and I entered the next period of my race: the long dark teatime of the soul.
Follow the glowsticks and reflectors, David. Turn up your headlamp and waistlamp. Try not to recognize that it’s midnight and hot and humid and you’re grinding through the woods on your own. You know, like you’ve been doing the past 18 hours. Listen to your podcasts and hold steady.
Eventually, I concluded I was too tired to be terrified. But at this point, I still had the wherewithal to be alert. My analogy is that I jammed my throttle into full and locked it there. I retreated to my lizard brain and just kept moving. Occasionally, I’d pass or be passed, but that didn’t matter. Only the forward motion.
I had a few interesting well, hallucinations is too strong a word, but I don’t know what else to call them. Visual irregularities? It was something crazy or freaky, just my brain looking at the messages from my eyes and making some bad judgment calls. They didn’t persist more than a fraction of a second. That was enough to tell my brain “That’s not right. Go home brain, you’re (punch) drunk” But seen out of the corner of my eye, the silhouettes of fluttering leaves resolved into writing on a chalkboard (as in a coffeehouse) Lines of the straight became white ropes suspended in the air. And once I looked down and realized that all the leaves had patterns like faces on them! For that last one, I blinked a few times and looked again. The leaves really did have those patterns on them, but my brain decided I wanted all the facelike ones to be instantly and dramatically highlighted. Thanks, brain!
An eternity and a half later, I stumbled into the aid station and was instantly disoriented by light, sound and company. Thank goodness! I quickly changed undergarments to avert a chafing crisis (just gonna leave it at that) Corey and Katie got me moving again quickly. Thank goodness, because there was some definite triage going on at that aid station. I saw a lady curled up on a tarp and I hoped she was napping crew, not hurting runner.
Back up and down some slippery trails with Katie on our way to Rice Lake. This part was consistently more technical than the rest of the course, and I was glad to have my poles. We quietly moved along this time and listened to the ducks and frogs. The Rice Lake aid station was well stocked and friendly. Where else can you get free MILF hugs (thanks for the daytime pics, Jeremy!)?
Favorite aid station comment: “What else would I be doing at 3 am on a Saturday?” Bless you guys.
And a bonus for me: I got Katie unexpectedly for the next 4.5 miles back! Good things too, because my brain was seriously shutting down. If I could have taken caffeine, this would have been the perfect time. C’est la vie. Katie made sure I was staying awake and moving. But I was really, really struggling at about 3:30 am. I was trying to stay ahead of Katie so I wouldn’t be tempted to nap on the side of the trail. Funnily enough, it started to get just the hint of light at 3:45 am and the birds started to sing. It was magic. I perked up like nobody’s business and all thoughts of sleep were gone. I’d heard that the second sunrise was magical, but this was downright spooky. I was a new man. Hey, I’ll take it!
Act IV: We are the champions (Miles 82 to 100)
I said hi to Corey and goodbye to katie and set off for the last 14 miles. (6.5 solo, then 7.5 with Katie)
At this point, I was very much awake but my body decided to start complaining a bit. My left IT band was sore to the touch and my left foot was achy.
I’d hoped that I could run more of this section, but I settled into a brisk power hike and tried to avoid falling into a feedback loop of negativity. I had enough of a lead on the cutoffs to be comfortable. And so I threw down some solid 20 minute miles (ha!) That ominous green tunnel from the night before turned into a nice, rolling forest path. I wish I could have run it, but all my attempts to do so were quickly nixed by an uncooperative body. Just keep moving. It was agonizingly slow. I wasn’t close enough to smell the barn yet.
Fast forward to picking up Katie at mile 93. I’d been trying to keep motivating myself with little victories (last 50K! Last marathon! Last half marathon!) but I’d finally just fallen into a sullen silence. At least I was moving, eating, drinking, and peeing. Katie was a saint those last few interminable miles. I was grouchy, sweaty, and hot!
I finally made it to this beauty of a sign
And to celebrate I instantly broke into a...slogging walk. I was donezo. At one point, I became frustrated and tried to run down a hill. Big mistake. My fatigue addled feet failed to navigate a rock and I promptly supermanned down the hill. Really?? I made it through slippery, rock laden trails in the middle of the night and I eat it on a dry hill in broad daylight?
Thankfully, my instincts (or luck) kicked in. I took the impact on my shoulder, rolled, and slid the rest of the way on my pack. Katie looked back, horrified, but amazingly I was fine. Not a scratch on me.
I couldn’t wait to be done with that section of the trail. But I was moving slowly, so there was still about 90-100 minutes of hiking. I just ignored the folks slowly running by and shambled as best I could to the finish line.
When I had a half mile left, I started thinking about all the effort I had put into training, and all the sacrifices my friends had made to see me through. And I got a little bit of sunscreen in my eyes. Excuse me…
And here I am!
Dirty, fatigued, smelly, but unbroken!
After a painful shower and some emotional goodbyes, that was that. After about 2.5 years of trying, I did it! Thank you to Corey, Katie, and Doris! Kudos to the RDs for putting on a well stocked, impeccably marked, beautiful, and strongly supported race. Thanks to everyone who sent me supportive messages!
...hm, I wonder if I could do that faster? <checks ultrasignup>
Report card: Guaranteed to blow your mind....anytime!
Nutrition: A
Sandwiches. It all came down to the sandwiches. I’d throw down my own food (shotbloks, chia gels, picky bars, epic bars) every 30 minutes and then scarf sandwiches at the aid stations. I ate enough at each aid station to sustain my energy level, even when it got hot. In stark contrast to Canyons, I wasn’t ravenous when I finished.
Hydration: B+
I should have taken in more tailwind at night, but I was peeing consistently. I’d say I was minorly low on electrolytes, but using handhelds to encourage frequent sips worked out pretty well in the long run.
Pacing: B
Banking some fast miles at the start actually made sense this race, but I still wish I’d saved more for those last miserable 14 miles. Not that it matters, but I gave up at least 10 spots in that last death march. Oh well.
Planning/packing: A
I had a pretty solid gear loadout. In the plains, I was rocking my ice bandana and iced handhelds. In the dark, I relied heavily on my headlamp/waistlamp combo to lend some depth perception to the night. On the hills and the mud, my trekking poles were indispensable.
All I need to do is reduce the number of calories in each drop bag next time and I’m good to go. Gotta stop packing like I’m self supporting (From the Drop Bag Challenge: ”Seriously, people? We do have aid stations!”)
PS Brushing my teeth at the middle aid stations was life changing
Training: B+
I went from fast and flat (for Kaiser) to hilly (for the Canyons 100k) to rolling for this race. Legs weathered it pretty well. Minues points for only have 5 weeks between A races.
Mental game: B
I definitely got in a funk in the last portion. I need to figure out how to disrupt that downward spiral. One of my favorite sayings “If you believe you can do it, you’re probably right. If you believe you can’t do it, you’re also probably right.”
But I managed to deal with unexpected issues in a largely rational way, so I’ll call it a victory!
Overall: I'm happy to say things went just about as well as they could have! I give myself a
Notable Gear:
Day:
Mountain Hardwear Fluid race vest
2 x 20 oz Amphipod handhelds
Hoka One One Mafate 4
Night:
Nathan elevate pack
Black Diamond Distance Z poles
Black Diamond Spot headlamp
Fenix HP25 headlamp on waist
Hoka One One Mafate 4
Lessons:
Don’t try to do it all yourself. Find yourself a good team and rely on them.
When things get too dark, hang on until dawn.
Don’t rely on your brain for late race decisions. Rely on your team and have a procedure in place.
Have a plan and a backup, but don’t freak it if things go off the rails.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, you probably just need to walk and eat a bit.
For now, I’m pretty happy to ramp it down and chill out for a bit. (That’s a lie. I had so much fun I want to get back out there right away! But it’s time for cookies and ice cream.) Getting stoked for Western States….hopefully soon. But now it's time for recovery!
Happy trails!
David
