Subject: Superior Trail 100.9 (long report, too) From: Bob Metzger Date: Tue, 10 Sep 2002 22:13:42 -0500 The "Guide to the Superior Hiking Trail" describes the trail as "a footpath only, comprised mainly of an 18-inch treadway through a clearing appoximately four feet in width...characterized by ascents to rock outcroppings and cliffs, and descents into numerous river and creek valleys...showcasing waterfalls and rapids, bends and deep gorges where thousands of years of rushing water have cut into layers of ancient volcanic bedrock." It goes on to say that "panoramic overlooks of Lake Superior, the Sawtooth Mountains, and inland woodlands, lakes, and rivers are abundant along the length of the SHT." The 100.9 mile section of the SHT that is used for the Superior Trail 100 Mile Endurance Run has all that and more. I fell in love with the SHT in 1996, when I first ran the 50 miler that is held on the same day as the 100. Every year since then I have returned, completing the 50 miler in 1996, 1997, 1998, and 1999, and taking my first ever ultra DNF in 2000 when I aggravated an already sore achilles tendon, which I subsequently ruptured six weeks later. It had become a family affair, too, as my wife, Chris, after crewing for me the first two years, ran and completed the 50 in each of those next three years. In 2001 (while Chris once more ran the 50), with the achilles still not back to 100%, I teamed with my close friends Anna Belu and Jeff Wold, and worked instead as a volunteer. Anna and I first hung glowsticks for 13 miles of the course, and then worked the 95 mile aid station until the end of the race, along with Jeff. During that wonderful weekend, I decided that the true measure of recovery from that torn achilles would be to return to the SHT, not for the 50, but rather for the 100. Each of those years but one, it has rained on race weekend on the SHT, often with an abundance of light and sound effects. In 1997, the weather had been perfect, with sunny skies amd a high temperature in the 50's. This year introduced yet another wrinkle: a dewpoint in the 70's, sunny skies, and a high temperature up around 90. The course is never easy, with an estimated 14,000 feet of ascent and descent on mostly rooty, rocky, uneven trail. But we all knew from the start that this year was going to be particularly tough. With aid stations spaced as much as 9 gnarly miles apart, we were warned to make sure we had plenty of water and food. At 5:00 Saturday morning, 38 of us headed out for Grand Marais under a clear, starry, moonless sky. I hung back with my mn-drs buddies Larry Pederson, Donna Rae Sutherland, and Scott Wagner for the first 23 miles or so. The early cutoffs caused me a little concern, as I tend to start out slowly and pace myself for the latter miles. But I felt very pleased and blessed to be running with my three friends, all of whom had completed previous ST100's. I also knew that Chris and Jeff would be driving up later in the day to take care of me in those latter miles, Jeff as a pacer, and Chris as crew for us both. I took it easy, and hung back with Larry as Donna Rae and Scott accelerated a couple of miles of gravel road around mile 23. It was already very hot, and very humid, and Larry and I decided that staying ahead of the cutoffs was about as agressive as we cared to be. Larry's wife, Colleen, was doing a great job crewing for us, and keeping us apprised of how the folks up ahead were faring. People were already dropping - two very experienced friends of ours had in fact called it quits at mile 25. To my delight, when we pulled into the Sugarloaf aid station at mile 36.5, Chris was waiting there with Colleen to greet us. Jeff had crawled into a bed back at the hotel, and was resting up for his pacing assignment. Larry and I were battling the heat and humidity, but we seemed to be winning the battle, and things appeared to me to be falling into place. Then, around mile 45, Larry slowed way down. His stomach was churning, and he looked bad. Darkness was also starting to fall. With Larry's blessing, I forged on ahead, wanting to get through this section as quickly as possible, both to build up some cushion on the cutoff, and to get off this very convoluted section as early as possible, as glowsticks had surprisingly not been put out. I reached the 50 mile aid station at the magnificent Temperance River about 30 minutes after dark, two hours ahead of the cutoff. I was told that about 12 people had dropped, and that there were 5 behind me. But Larry and 2 of the others never made it out of Temperance. Jeff was waiting for me at Pacer Central at mile 54.8 when I stumbled in, now only 90 minutes ahead of the cutoff. The climb over Carlton Peak in the dark had taken a toll on me, and when I flushed something very large, probably a moose, from the woods about a quarter mile before the aid station, it had scared the bejeesus out of me. But Jeff and Chris greeted me with big smiles, lied and told me I looked great, and I set back out into the night with the man with whom I have run a few thousand miles, and who paced me for the last 38 miles of my only previous 100 miler back in June at Kettle Moraine. My spirits picked up immediately. And then the climb over Moose Mountain nearly killed me. I was still ungodly hot, and despite all the water and Succeed capsules I had consumed, my fingers were swelling. And I probably wasn't eating enough, although Chris had brought me an incredible turkey and cheese on pumpernickel sandwich somewhere along the way. I was also gulping down melon, soup, potatoes, and pb&j at every aid station, supplemented by our private stash of Ensure, Balance Bars, grapes, and V-8 juice. On a trail that is a challenge to run in the daytime, darkness and my struggles with keeping my electrolytes in balance and a fire in the furnace, Jeff and I were soon walking just about 100% of the time. Except when we stood still to watch the spectacular show that was being put on by the Northern Lights. This was absolutely magnificent. We had to keep those pesky cutoffs from spoiling our fun, but we certainly sacrificed some of our cushion to watch the heavenly display. We walked and walked, gazing skyward at the show whenever we dared take our eyes off the trail under our feet. And a mere 10.5 hours after turning on my headlamp, there was enough light from the sky to allow me to turn it back off. The sunrise even perked me up a bit. Unfortunately, it also perked up the mosquitos, which until then had not been much of an issue. It also got some hornets or yellow jackets stirred up, and both Jeff and I were stung multiple times. And if that wasn't bad enough, Jeff shortly afterwards found himself feeling constricted in his chest and having some difficulty breathing. We were a good 4 miles from the nearest aid station. Jeff slowed, and I sped up to try to get to the aid station ASAP and send someone back out in his direction. But, in my panic, I became confused and disoriented, and inexplicably decided I had missed some course markings along the spectacular Cascade River gorge. We reunited as I headed back up the well-marked trail, and he turned me around and guided me into the aid station. The personnel there provided him with some benadryl, and we headed out for the final 18 miles, with about a 90 minute cushion on the cutoff. Only to be met by the meanest, nastiest and perhaps most scenic section of the course. Dramatic climbs were followed by steep descents, all with the worst footing imaginable. We lost about 30 minutes of our cushion, and pulled into the 86.8 mile aid station feeling pretty wiped. But along with Chris, there were Colleen and Larry. Larry was no longer a race participant, of course, but was feeling well enough to run the next 5.7 miles with us, evidently to make sure we didn't lose any more valuable time. He also outlined a plan to leave us at the next aid station, and travel with Colleen to the finish, from where he would traverse the last couple of miles in reverse, and meet us to help guide us to the end. And here's where it gets exciting. We had about a 10 minute cushion at that mile 92.5 aid station, but I knew that we could pad it a bit on the next section, which we had run just three weeks ago. That would also take us to the last aid station, mile 95.6, where Jeff, Anna, and I had served last year. Sure enough, we got there 30 minutes ahead of the cutoff, with 5.3 miles to go to the finish (yes, 100.9 miles). I had cleverly consumed an Ensure and 3 Balance Bars within about 20 minutes in and around the previous aid station, so I was starting to actually feel pretty energized again. I also really wanted to make that 36 hour cutoff. We moved quickly, but when we eventually reached Larry, he was clearly concerned. His timing showed us right on the brink. We had about 28 minutes left, and it had taken him just about 28 minutes to reach that point. Fortunately, it's virtually all downhill from there to the finish. Jeff was about 5 yards ahead, right where I like him to be when he's pacing me on single track. Larry was behind. I fell into my speedwork breathing pattern, and started to accelerate. I hollered to Jeff, and he picked up the pace, lest Larry and I trample him to death. We sprinted for probably 10 minutes, and saw the football field where the finish is dead ahead. The other runners, volunteers, race directors, and crews spotted us and started to cheer and applaud. We ran the perimeter of the football field, as required, and picked up the pace even more. It sounded like the whole world was cheering for us. Larry had peeled off to the right, and taken a shortcut so that he'd be there at the finish. There was Chris, taking pictures, and Colleen clapping, and Donna Rae and Pat, and Toni, and the RDs and the other runners, all cheering and applauding. It was awesome. And it was 35:52:12 officially - not even that close! I was the 16th and last person to finish under the 36 hour mark, with 21 people having DNF'd, and one more to come in about 8-10 minutes after the the cutoff. I quickly managed to slime every one of my friends with a grossly disgusting hug. I just love them all that much. ;-) ****************************************** ** Bob Metzger ** Lakeville, MN ******************************************