Kettle Moraine Ultra

Some people still don’t fully understand (myself included) why I or anyone else would run these crazy distances… but rather than try and explain it, I thought I would merely share some of the “fun” with those of you who may be curious about how the race went on Saturday.

But before doing that, I would like to thank all of you for your support, friendship and encouragement along the way. I must say I was a bit overwhelmed this weekend at all the attention, phone-calls, and people coming by to offer congratulations (or maybe you were just curious if I was still alive). In any event, it’s the thought that counts, and I am truly blessed to have such wonderful friends and family. Michelle has done so much for me along the way, and without her, I would be lost. My kids have been excited as well, and my only regret in this endeavor was not being able to cross the finish line, so that I could do it with Zach, Trevor, and Amber - I guess that will have to wait for next year…

Anyway, I know I’ve shared bits and pieces of this story with many of you, and do apologize in advance for this somewhat indulgent write-up (and poor quality of my cell-phone pictures). Since there is a tradition of post-race reports in the ultra community, I will do my best to blend the experience with the lessons along the way. Although I’ve read many race reports and studied this sport to some extent, I do think there are just some things you have to learn through experience. That’s evidently the case with me, and part of the journey. But I will begin at the beginning…

The race started Sat at 6am – I was barely awake, but relaxed and somewhat delusional about how much fun it would be to run through the forest and fields for 63 miles.

Early in the race, I was towards the back of the pack, determined not to go out too fast…

Here the Nordic trail was wide and open, with beautiful pines all along the way.

Around mile 8, I noticed some horses on the trail and took a picture. A woman named Jeannine was with me at this point, and we started talking and kept seeing more horses, which was really cool. They are amazing animals… little did we know we had missed a turn and were running down a horse path instead of the Ice Age trail. We realized our mistake over a mile later, back-tracked, and discovered we had lost about 25 minutes and were now in last place.

No problem, though - we were fortunate to still have 55 miles to get back on track!

In all honesty, I must admit my frustration at this mistake, but was so happy to have Jeannine along with me during this time. We had several hours to get to know each other, and by the time we parted ways, I was actually glad to have taken the ‘wrong’ path. Like most runners, she was good natured and fun to talk with. It gave us both a chance to practice one of my favorite credos in running and in life – “It’s not what happens to you that’s important, but how you respond that makes the difference.” So we just relaxed and kept our pace steady, enjoying the scenery along the way. We talked about our kids and jobs and running history, and even shared our spiritual backgrounds with each other. Ultras are definitely a unique setting where mutual respect and working together allow for quick bonding. I was glad to have made a new friend. So thanks, Jeannine, and congratulations on your awesome finish!

Did I mention that it was hot? 81 degrees by 10:30am, with humidity thrown in for good measure. It ultimately topped out at 88 degrees and made for a much tougher than expected run. Just another chance to practice this credo thing – I had no idea I would get so much mileage out of this saying by day’s end.

After 16 or so miles of trail, we hit a section north of Emma Carlin that was wide-open with prairie and marsh and lots of sun! I did enjoy this section, and relished the great views along the way. God’s artwork never ceases to amaze me. My pace was slowing a bit with the heat, so I had a couple of hours to enjoy these new surroundings. These cell-phone pictures just don’t do justice to the views that day…

We then entered another heavily forested area near Scuppernong and I was immediately reminded just how hilly this course can get. PUDS, they’re called (pointless ups and downs). A few were big enough for switchbacks and definitely not runnable, but most were just normal hills that kept coming and coming… I saw a returning runner around the 29 mile mark and he remarked how this course was ‘up-hill, both ways.’ This later proved to be true, although I’m still not sure how the physics actually worked out… I’ll let you examine the altitude map for yourself.

When I finally arrived at the turn-around point it had taken me 7 hours and 2 minutes. I remembered finishing the Ice Age 50K three weeks earlier in 5:08, and feeling much better at the end of that race than I did right now at the same distance, despite going much slower. For the first time, I realized I might be in a bit of trouble, but quickly felt better after being tended to by the aid station volunteers. One lady who wasn’t even working (just waiting for her husband) volunteered to help me change my socks when I got a cramp in my calf. Talk about an act of service. Each sock weighed about 2 lbs with sweat and dirt and it felt so good to get fresh ones on. I was also glad to see Jeannine again, who was looking strong and already heading back out for the second half. We took each others’ pictures and I was feeling pretty good – not physically, but mentally - I was just excited and happy to be out there doing this with all these other crazy people.

Anyway, I could tell my stomach was off and I was sweating way too much, so I made myself sit for almost 15 minutes, drinking and eating some fruit, until my pulse rate came back under 130. I grabbed some extra salt tablets, tums, refilled my water bottles, and was off. Back over the hills and through the woods, talking with different runners as our paces met. I was amazed how many people were from out-of-state. One lady was from England, and I had already met Hiroko from Japan. All of them had different backgrounds and experience levels, but each one had one common denominator – a positive attitude in the face of a difficult situation. After all, what else would we do on such a day, if we weren’t running?

As I continued on, my stomach became more and more disgruntled, to the point where I thought I’d better stop eating and start walking more. This seemed to help for a bit, but then I would pick up the pace again only to grow nauseous as a result. So I did my best imitation of RFM (relentless forward motion) and just talked to God about stuff on the way. I was meditating on this inspirational bible verse at the time:

Since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace… we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, a true hope. And this hope does not disappoint, because God has poured out His love in our hearts.

I had shared this verse with Jeannine earlier, but knew that I did not know much about true suffering or perseverance. My life has been a walk on the beach compared to others I know who have struggled with marriage and health and real loss. But I also know God wants to teach me these truths, to develop my own wimpy character, and be able to help others. In any event, this verse hit me a lot harder at mile 40 than it did when I wrote it out by my computer the week before… I resolved to rejoice in my circumstances, to persevere, and knew God’s interest had more to do with developing character and dependence on Him than it did my final race result.

So I was still feeling lousy and just decided to quit thinking about myself and start trying to focus on others. I talked with several different people along the way who were also struggling. We encouraged each other, but talked less than before. Some were suffering from the heat, others legs were shot, cramping, or just completely out of energy. I noticed several runners now had pacers with them – a friend or relative who was walking/running with them these last long miles. This seemed like a good idea and a great principle for life in general.

As runners we were so spread out now (45 miles into the race) that I would go 30 minutes without seeing anyone at times, but I finally made it back into Emma Carlin. This is where things got more interesting…

My stomach finally pulled the ultimate revolt and I began to throw up by the picnic tables. I apologized as several people were eating nearby, but then some guy said that was the best up-chuck he had seen all day. The way he said it made me laugh, and I was glad to know I wasn’t the only one with an upset stomach. After a few more dry heaves, I sat-up and started feeling better. I resolved I was not going to quit. After I drank some fluids and proved my body was capable, I continued on down the trail.

Not a bad smile, only 20 minutes after puking (note to others: avoid touching blue towel on shoulder)

This was when I met Gretchen. She was also at the aid station and thinking about dropping out. Her stomach was fine, but her legs were shot. The hills had taken their toll, plus she had some sort of reaction to the material of her new running belt. I encouraged her not to quit unless she was absolutely certain she couldn’t go on. I shared how I had dropped on a bad day at Grandma’s Marathon several years earlier and always regretted that decision. After I told her we could just walk for a while, she changed gear and agreed to continue on. Turns out she was from Texas, so we had something in common. (That’s also why I don’t have her picture – Texan women don’t like to be photographed when they’re not at their best.)

At this point I really thought I was going to feel better and could just plug along to the finish. I called Michelle and told her how much I’d fallen behind schedule, and we agreed it would be best for her and the kids not to drive out 65 miles to see me finish so late, and possibly in the dark. I had stayed in touch with her via my cell-phone, and she said I sounded better. So I decided to try and eat and drink some more for the last 18 mile push.

Although my legs and lungs were ready to go, my stomach still wouldn’t cooperate, and it was all I could do to drink a few swallows of water. Although it was getting late, it was still over 80 degrees. My stomach just couldn’t recover, and I knew as a runner I had lost my means of refueling and rehydrating. This was not good. We made it another 3 miles to Horseriders aid station and refilled our water supply. I never had the urge to get on a horse hit me so strong!

At this point Gretchen & I were both slowing – I didn’t have the energy to make it up the hills without stopping, and Gretchen couldn’t go downhill without turning sideways because of the shooting pain in her quads. Although she was an accomplished biker and Ironman finisher, this was not her day. So we talked about our families and balancing all this activity in our lives. She had been traveling so much for different competitions and didn’t feel like she was being a good mom. We agreed that humility was a good thing, maybe God was trying to get her attention, and she decided to make some different decisions going forward. I won’t share all of it here, but it is amazing what people tell you when they’re hurting and wandering in the woods…

Finally around mile 52 I decided I’d better start running again or I’d never make it in. Gretchen said she was definitely dropping at the next aid station, and we said our good-byes. It was already after 7pm and I needed to pick up the pace. The hills, however, seemed to get bigger at this point and my nausea returned almost immediately upon running. Soon I was walking again and threw up once more for good measure. My legs began to cramp and my walk became an awkward one indeed. I think for the first time I realized I might not finish this race. As I came into the aid station at 55 miles, my condition was sad. I still couldn’t drink much and food sounded awful. But I needed to refuel, to replenish my electrolytes, and to re-hydrate. One volunteer told me if I couldn’t get my stomach back, this may be it. I slowly realized it was over. It had been 14 hours and 20 minutes since I started this 57 mile journey. I wasn’t going to finish, but knew I never quit.

Darkness fell and I began to cramp badly as I sat in the chair. Chills kept coming and they started to wrap me in towels. Soon I had a car-ride back to the finish from Mary, bless her heart (and her sweaty front seat). At the finish they got me into a cot and Ann Heaslett took care of me for about an hour. Ann is an amazing ultra runner who has won many events, but tonight she was taking care of others. The race directors, Tim & Jason were also working and did such a great job looking out for all the runners, modeling what it means to be unselfish.

Within an hour or so I started to feel better and called Michelle to let her know the result. The kids were all still awake and each took turns congratulating me on the phone. They were so supportive, and told me all about their days too. My five-year old daughter told me they had a surprise for me. It turned out Tim & Amy Thorison had started a sign for me that my family and neighbors all signed with congrats and encouragement. Thank you guys so much!

The kids asked me if I was tired. Boy was I ever! After eating some chicken noodle soup, I drove a few miles down the road to the Super 8, got a room, and crashed. I really wanted to shower and wash away the sweat & trail residue, but soon fell asleep in my grunge running clothes. I woke up at 3:30am, turned off the last light and then slept until 8:30 the next morning.

After a long over-due shower and breakfast, I went back to the finish line at Nordic. It was amazing to see a runner come in and finish the 100 mile race, 28 hours after we all started the prior day. While I had been sleeping, eating and recovering, he and others continued through the night, through the darkness, and through the thunderstorms to finish their quest. Even the 100K finishers were in awe!

I knew I had learned a lot about myself, about pushing my limits, about helping others, and about persevering. These 100 mile runners seemed to have something even more to teach us. We clapped and hollered for the few finishers who came in that morning. They were true champions, even if they were crazy.

Many others like me had not made their final goal that day. All-in-all, it was the lowest percentage of any Kettle race, with only 51% of the field finishing the race they entered. But despite our end-results, I saw a lot that day, in myself and in others. What a magnificent group of people - I think whoever said it before the race had it right: