Arrowhead 135 Race Report - Fueled by Irrational Fears and Junk Food

Earlier this month i finished the Tuscobia 160 Mile ultra. That report was gear-centric. This week i completed the Arrowhead 135 Mile race in International Falls Minnesota.  This report will focus more on the mental and nutritional aspects of winter races.

Photo credit Scott Rokis

Sidenote: I am attempting a "slam" of three races in one year.  Tuscobia 160, Arrowhead 135 and Actif Epica 120 KM.  If you complete the three in one year you are entered into the "Order of the Hrimthurs"  Only three people have ever done all three on foot in one year.  

Background 

Arrowhead is generally referred to as one of the hardest foot races period.  It starts in the "IceBox of America" International Falls, MN. Like Tuscobia, runners (you can bike or ski as well) are unsupported, no crew or pacers. Runners are allowed 1 drop bag of food.  The only other gear you get to have is on your sled (pulk) which you pull behind you.  My sled weighed about 30 pounds.  i had much of the same things i had from Tuscobia.  There is a store you check into at mile 35. A cabin at 70.  A tent on the side of the trail at 110 and very little other than trees, hills and snow in between.  You are given 60 hours to finish.  Usually less than half of the starters finish.

Photo Credit Thomas Woods

Race Plan

My strategy was to try to get to 35 in 10 hours. Get to 70 in 25 hours. And then take it easy the rest of the way, finishing before the cutoff. I was going to run with my friend Tim again at least until halfway unless one of us was holding the other up.  My "reach" goal was to finish in 55 hours, and not be chasing cutoffs.  Last year I quit around mile 50.  Excuse, sheer gutlessness. 

Nutrition

Although I have been eating NSNG (No sugar no grains) I loaded about 10,000 calories on my sled and drop bag of bad food.  Gells/Waffles, Lara Bars, Reeces Cups, Pringles, Trail Mixes, Mixed Nuts and then, just for fun because they weigh nothing, a large bag of cheetoes (regular, not puffs).  My goals to cram 200-500 calories into my mouth per hour, no matter what.  When I wasn't hungry or it made me sick, I ate it anyway saying, out loud, "It's medicine."

The Race

Tim and I started strong and hammered the first section to Gateway.  We were even under 15 minute miles for some of the time and I was impressed with our progress.  It was in the 10's to start reaching the 20s, so warmish and snowing.  The trail was nice and we ran into many old and new friends.  We got to Gateway around 10 hours and I was thrilled.  We took a rather long stop because I had feet issues to cure and I really wanted to eat some warm food while I could.  I had a hot dog, a sloppy joe, chicken tenders and two cokes.  I also bought another bag of cheetoes (puffs), Twinkies (no idea why) and more cokes and a red bull for the sled.  (This is totally grossing me out as I write it).

Over the next 35 mile section something happened to Tim.  He started slowing.  Then he puked.   Like 500 times in a row.  This was bad.  Without food and water this race is impossible.  Dehydration causes cold.  Lack of food causes the sleepies.  I knew we were in trouble.  After several discussions he told me to leave and that he was going to "bivy" (camp on the side of the trail) and try to "unfuck himself."  I didn't think there was a good chance of that by the looks of him and I was sad.  Tim was in the slam with me.  We were really pushing and I thought a couple times that I was going to be holding him back.  This was a big shock.  I became lonely and all in my own head, which is a bad place to be.  I got out my coke and put it within my gortex jacket to thaw it out.  I also got out a large bag of cheetoes.  New nutrition strategy....every 5 miles, 10% of the coke and 10% of the cheetoes and 8 gulps of water.  Why 8?  Who knows?  Things aren't really making sense.  At this point I could hear packs of wolves howling everywhere.  That's interesting.  Creepy.

Ski Pulk - Photo credit Scott Rokis

Also, Tim was worried about a long lake crossing.  The idea of running on a frozen lake probably doesn't scare many people but for some reason it really scared Tim.  I wasn't thinking about whether it scared me because I was going to enjoy scaring and laughing at him.  Now, alone, on my own, going across the frozen lake without a person in sight, seeing all those tracks, and hearing the cracking noises I got really scared.  I called my wife and just asked her to talk to me.  My god.  I was so scared.  It made no sense in retrospect.  :)

I got to Melgeorges (mile 70ish) at 24 hours (ahead of my plan) and people basically laughed at me for being scared of the lake.  I ate a grilled cheese sandwich and some soup, served by Kari's sweet mom :) and changed my socks.  I refilled my coke, which had become a main source of happiness on the trail, stored in my inner pocket and swigged each 10K while I pounded more cheetoes.  My feet were BAD.  But you know what, I knew that was going to happen when I signed up, so I crammed them in my shoes again and pushed off.

The next section was the scary lonely hilly section.  I didn't see any people the entire time, it was snowing in my face and the hills were crazy, extra crazy with a 30 pound sled on your back.  Then there was the sledding down the hills which I was adamantly opposed to prior to this race.  Now I was sledding everything with reckless abandon.  Taking chances.  At many points completely unaware of my path.  I started to have a little fun in between the hills that I hated.  These hills weren't extreme by any means, but with the sled, over and over.  At some point I just decided that it was never going to end, it was going to be hill after hill and, well, whatever.  I turned into a cheetoe eating coke drinking zombie.

Photo credit - Eric Bloomquist

Those Twinkies came into play around mile 100.  They were slightly frozen.  I haven't had a Twinkie in a very long time.  They were, glorious.

I hit the last checkpoint at Ski Pulk (mile 110) around 11:00.  My plan was to leave by midnight so I would have 19 hours to go 22ish miles.  I would finally feel like the race is in the bag and I will finish.  I took off my wet shoes and tried to dry my socks and nothing was helping.  In fact, my feet felt like frozen blocks of ice and my shoes were freezing up.  I was really scared I was going to get frostbite.  Eric and Tim saw me at Ski Pulk and got me moving.  I actually left before midnight.  My feet and shoes warmed up a bit once I got moving but I was worried because everything was wet and the temps were dropping to below zero and this seemed like the perfect cocktail for frostbite.

Sidenote: I know nothing about frostbite.  I've never had it, never read about it.  I really have just seen scary pictures.  On a scale of 1-10 my knowledge of frostbite was equal to my knowledge of frozen lakes.  0.

Photo Credit Burgess Eberhardt

So pulled my last coke and bag of Cheetos (if something is working and you are eating why change, right?) and all I can think about is frostbite.  Over and over again.  So I called my wife and she googled it.  We decided I could change my socks, but that might do little with the wet shoes.  At the end of the day I came to the decision that my best course of action was to start running.  To get to the finish ASAP and then they would take off my boots and my feet would be black and blue and I'd need an ambulance to the hospital, but I'd still be in the slam so whatever, right?

Sidenote: I didn't sleep during this race at all.  I took a 5 hour energy and two caffeine pills.  I hallucinated most of the last 24 hours but after Tuscobia I was used to that. My initial reaction to everything, real or imagined was "that's not real."

So I cranked up the tunes (hip hop) and did the Cheeto/coke thing running every other song.  I was scared, miserable and in a complete state of panic.  All I though about over those last 15 miles was frostbite.  I pushed as hard as I could.

Sidenote: I did the first half in 24:01; the second half in 24:09.  Weird!!

When I finally finished I wasn't happy.  I just needed to know if I had frostbite.  I didn't, of course.  Just some really gross blisters.  It was all irrational.  Maybe my mind needed an excuse to make me run.  Maybe I did.  Maybe I just had more in the tank and needed an excuse to use it.  Or maybe I'm a wack job crazy person junk food addict.  Either way, at 7:13 I crossed the finish line to finish in 48:09:00 in 13th place.

There is so much more I could say and so many stories to tell and people to thank.  But I need to thank the Kruegers, Sue Lucas, Tim Kruse, Eric Bloomquist and most of all my wife Kylia who took my phone calls and never once accused me of being insane.

I guess anything is possible.

https://www.strava.com/activities/853309921

Fitness Posts and Narcisism

Last week I shared an article about a Science Daily article (https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2015/05/150521213743.htm) which discussed a study that concluded that "Facebook status updates about their romantic partner are more likely to have low self-esteem, while those who brag about diets, exercise, and accomplishments are typically narcissists, according to new research."  Many people shared the post and there was a lot of discussion.  Some humor.  Some hurt feelings.  

I should in the interest of full disclosure state that I have never posted any workout related Facebook material.

Me being Awesome at the top of Pinnacle Peak

OK, I have.  But I really don't think the takeaway from the article was: if you post fitness selfies you ARE a narcissist.

Me being Awesome dragging my sled

I think the point that can be taken is that we should ask ourselves what our motivation is for sharing things on social media.  I do know several people that have told me my running posts have inspired them to start running.  That warms my heart.  I've also had several people confess that they un-followed me (or un-friended me) because it was just "look at me running" and "look at this awesome place I ran at" and "look at how awesome I am."  Although I'm not that sure what they are talking about.

Not just being Awesome but looking Awesome at the comrades finish

Over time I have started to think about my motive for my posts, and from time to time check back on my wall and ask "Is there too much me?"  Sometimes I fall short.  Sometimes I look back and say "wow....that's way too much you."  Other times I successfully try to find a way to motivate or inspire people without making it about me.

All the stuff between these hands is Awesome! (sorry Aaron)

I guess other signs that we might be a little too into ourselves are: posting every split, posting every workout, making sure we have the best selfie angle (i.e. if you apply makeup and get into a yoga pose you might be making it about you) posting every meal, posting 50 hashtags, etc.  Do we post about bad runs?  Do we post pictures when we fail?  I know many of us would rather be caught dead than have an embarrassing picture of ourselves show up on Facebook, but it happens. (Just not to me).

My Awesome shirt!

We should also address the "don't judge me" crowd.  We need to come to grips with the fact that EVERYTHING we put on Facebook is, to some extent, a cry for judgment.  I know we don't want to admit it, but each time someone "likes" our post they are judging it (favorably).  We need to come to grips with the fact that when someone posts something negative about us, they are also judging us, just negatively. (Not that this has ever happened to me).

Gordy agrees.  I'm Awesome.  #NotReally

So if you post your 5 mile run and you are more than happy to have 100 people "like" it and 25 people call you "beast mode" you should also be willing to accept the person that says "5 miles isn't that far" or "is this really something that needs to be on Facebook."  You can't say "Don't judge me, unless you think I'm Awesome!  *Note: Race Directors....this applies to you too.  If you are fine with being blown by 100's of satisfied runners you can't bitch about those runners that want to post about their disappointments too.

I think it would be a mistake to simply say "this article is dumb" or "I'm not a narcissist!!"  Instead, I think it gives us some food for thought about our relationship with social media.  No, I'm not saying over-think it.  No, I'm not saying change what you do per se.  But I think we could all learn a lot by looking into our behaviour, especially on social media, asking ourselves why we do what we do and making sure that we are being honest with yourselves and the Facebookland.  This is especially so as more and more of our life begins to be lived virtually.  

Next up for me, crewing and pacing at the Leadville as part of training for the Bear100 while trying to pump out a healthy dose of podcasts.  :)

867-5309

I remember growing up as a kid in the 80's.  Playing video games, especially Pac-Man.  I remember the way the game changed once I mastered it, I became convinced that I needed to get to a certain level without "losing a guy" to have a chance of a good game.  If I suffered any early setbacks the rest of the game was useless.  If I was at home I'd just hit reset.  If I had no chance of getting my name on the board there was no point in playing. (Note: I was terrible at Pac-man and I don't know why I used it as an example).  (Note: I kicked ass at Crazy Climber).

I worked  at an aid station at miles 37 and 60 of the Hennepin Hundred this weekend.  For about 15 hours I met numerous runners trying to run fifty or one hundred miles, many for the very first time. If you have never been to an ultramarathon I highly recommend volunteering at one.  You see the human spirit pushed to its brink.  You see suffering on an unthinkable scale (well, it's thinkable, they paid for it, but you get what I mean).  You feel like you are a part of their race.  Your assistance is helping. A tiny part of their success becomes yours.  In summary, it is a VERY rewarding experience.

As I gain experience in these races I observe different things.  In this experience one of the key things I observed was the arbitrary emphasis we seem to put on numbers.  Maybe it is imposed by others. Maybe advertisements, running magazines, movies and books have gotten in our heads.  I don't know where it really comes from and why we care. But we seem to.

I remember (like it was yesterday) my first 5K, half marathon, marathon, 50K, 50 Mile and 100 Mile races.  I don't know why 3.1, 13.1, 26.2, 31, 50 or 100 mattered to me.  Those numbers have no independent value.  It's not like running that exact number of miles means anything other than on magnets, medals and t-shirts.  I don't recall anyone putting any focus on HOW i ran those distances.  I don't recall working on my form or speed.  My place wasn't really important.  I don't remember having a finishing time in mind.  I was convinced somehow that there was value to moving my body that distance.  Among the memories I have of those events, my finishing times and/or goals really don't play a big part in them.

At some point I read that "if you can't break four hours in a marathon you shouldn't even bother."  I then made that time my goal and chased the four hour marathon for years.  I never made it. Once I started focusing on it I stopped enjoying my marathons. I stopped having fun at any event where it became clear my goal wasn't possible. I then completely fell out of love with running and marathoning.  I took a long break and smoked cigarettes and got out of shape.

At some point in 2011/2012 I discovered trail and ultra running.  The crowd was extremely different.  I met characters.  We ate real food.  We talked about "time on our feet" and enjoyed spending hours and hours together on the trail sharing experiences.  I met a new family.  It changed the way I looked at running.  People seldom asked me what my time was.  We didn't talk about age group awards.  No one seemed to talk about "who beat who."  We might discuss who won and marvel at how fast they were, but I honestly felt like no one really put any stock in their time, place, etc.  It was more about the journey and shared experience.  the vibe was cool, laid back and fun.

Somewhere that vibe has been missing from some of the events I have been in lately.  This weekend I talked with many people that were considering quitting. They weren't in pain.  They weren't in danger of failing to finish.  Instead, they were going to drop because they weren't going to meet their goal of finishing in "under 24 hours."  The fact that that goal was unobtainable made them feel their experience was such a failure that they would be better off failing to finish altogether.  What a bunch of bullshit.  What a travesty.  All those miracles happening around them.  All that splendor and beauty.  All those people working tirelessly to help them - and they wanted to throw it away over a number.  It just seemed so arbitrary.  It was such a shame.

I'm not saying goals are bad.  I'm not shitting on accomplishment.  I certainly think people should do their best on the given day.  I also think that if you are injured (and by this I mean *really*injured, like, going to the doctor tomorrow, not the ole "knee acting up" followed by a ten mile run the next day) there's no reason to be a hero.  (I should also probably say I have never come close to running a 100 mile race in less than 24 hours. So feel free to chalk this post up to that if you must).  What I am saying is that we might be starting to make the amazing the enemy of the ideal.

I don't know of a single elite that reads this blog (sniffle).  So I feel pretty safe in saying this.  If you think you are better than someone or had a better race because you ran longer or faster than someone else, ranked higher, won an age group award or got a PR you're kidding yourself.  Stick around and watch the smiles on those finishing near the end of a 100 mile race.  Go see the shock of those finishing their first 5K.  See the "couch to marathon" crowd at mile 26.2 of their first marathon.  Tell me any of these people had a worse race than you.  Just try.

The next time you're considering dropping because you aren't going to make your arbitrary time goal. Try thinking of a reason to stay in the race, rather than a reason to quit.  You meet a lot of great people in the course of a race.  One of them might be you.

On Pacing 100 Milers

Kettle Moraine 100 - 2015

"Hey man....you want a beer before we head out?"  Not the typical conversation between a runner and his pacer before heading out for mile 62 of a 100 mile footrace.  But this wasn't a typical runner or a typical day.   His wife Cindy Faford is the world's greatest supporter/cheerleader/crewperson. James ran a rather unusual 100 miler in April at the Potawatomi Trail Races (46 hours over a couple of days after signing up for the 50 miler). Prior to that, he hadn't finished a 100 mile race in almost five (5) years.  James was 0-2 at last weekend's Kettle Moraine 100 mile race.  At 51 years old one would think his best years of running were behind him.   

James told me about his prior struggles at kettle as well as his problems running at night, generally, at the St. Pat's 24 Hour Race last year.  When I heard of them my response was simple: I need to pace you and make sure you get that kettle.  (the award you get for finishing the Kettle Moraine 100).

Little did I know this was not going to be a slog (slow jog) fest with a masters runner.  Instead, James took off like he was trying to win the whole race.  I expected to finish between 30 and 32 hours.  Much to my suprise, James rolled into mile 62 (the point where I was going to pace him) at 13:55.  About 3-5 hours sooner than I imagined.  He looked great and he was full of energy.  He was in fantastic shape and I instantly knew he would finish.

"Sure, that might hit the spot."  James took a cold Spotted Cow and started hiking with me down the Nordic Trail.  The sun was shining.  Our plan was to hike a couple of miles, drink the beer, get his stomach settled and then start running.

We had a blast.  chatting up some of the more colorful and interesting ultra folks along the way.

My nemesis Juli (although we can be friendly when not trying to kill each other)

We had a few run-ins with ultra vegan Dave Wiskowski and his amazing pacer Daniel Robinson.

In the end, vegan power overtook us.  We were resigned to a walk for the last five miles.  We went from at one point gunning for sub 24 hours, to 25, to, well, top speed at the time.  We talked of life and love and music and god only knows what else.  We saw and heard virtually millions of animals and frogs along the trail.  We tried certain things to settle James's stomach that worked and some that didn't.  One thing we never talked about - quitting.  The idea of dropping never came to mind and I think that's one good thing that can happen when you have a pacer.

In spite of what you might think, I didn't really focus much on pace.  (That's a lie.  I did break down the numbers on a semi regular basis for him to finish sub 24, 25 and 26 until he confessed that he could go no faster).  Moreover, we were not really concerned about what place James was in.  (That's also a lie.  I was constantly pointing out that he was ahead of people we saw on the trail in hopes of motivating James.  I don't believe it worked.  James is way too nice of a guy).  At the end of the day what we really were was two good friends (Well, that might be a lie, we don't really know each other too well at all) sharing the wonder of the trails at night (Another lie.  "This Sucks" was said early and often) together.

Does any of it matter?  At 26:02 we crossed the finish line.  James got his kettle and I finally fell asleep at the finish line.

You may be someone like me, that is in an Ultrarunning club.  You may have many questions about how to run 100 or 50 miles.  I just want to put out there something that I said earlier in my group about pacing and crewing: "I learned what I learned from finding people that knew a lot and watching them, crewing them, pacing them and expiramenting with them. I didn't learn it in a book or from the Facebook page. there's no easy answer. It's a path of discovery....It's one thing to come in [to a Facebook Group] and say "Anyone have any advice for me....I'm trying my fisrst 50k." It's another thing to spend 20 hours in the woods holding someone's bottle and seeing first hand how they struggle and overcome. And you give back. And you remember that later when a new guy wants to hold your bottle.

That smile was for you James Faford.  Because you really knocked me out!

I Cry When I Run

These days I cry almost every time I run.  It usually happens near the end.  It's really hard to explain.  I think of my friend Alfredo and I cry.  I just hope people assume it is tears of joy or the endorphins spilling over.  But really, it's that I miss running with my friend and I'm afraid I'll never get to run with him again.

Shortly after being introduced to ultra running I learned of a guy named Afredo Perdo Perro, or Alfredo Pedro, or Alfredo Perro.  No one really knows for certain and no one cares.  He was a CARA (Chicago Area Runners Association) runner who was a recovering alcoholic and running for PAWS (a dog charity).  Between my love of running, dogs and the fact that I was a recovering alcoholic I knew Alfredo was someone I should be friends with.  I sent him a friend request and an instant message.  He confirmed that we should be friends and meet up soon.

Several weeks later some friends were running across Illinois (west to east) and my wife and I went looking for them to offer assistance.  That night we found Alfredo and my friend Kathleen Rytman running along a country road.  I jumped in to help and spent the next twelve hours getting to know the person that would become my best friend.

 Since then Alfredo and I have done just about anything hard we could think of.  We went on to run our first 100 mile race together, the Potawatomi Trail 100:

We then ran the Superior Sawtooth 100 together:

Ran a goofy food challenge through the streets of Chicago:

We did the first World's Longest Turkey Trot from Chicago to Milwaukee:

And so on.  I've spent many many hours with Alfredo suffering silently on the roads and trails of America.  We didn't talk much.  We silently suffered together.

One day two winters ago we ran 30 miles along the Chicago lakefront in subzero temps for no reason at all.  As the wind blew us nearly off the trail I turned to look at him and said "You know...when I run with you I feel like there is nothing I cannot achieve."  He said he shared that exact feeling.

Last spring and fall Alfredo started falling.  He was always a little clumsy, but he started falling hard and hitting his head.  He had trouble descending.  His neck bothered him.  No one could explain why.  Running got harder and harder, and eventually he couldn't run anymore.  In December he became hospitalized.

In late December he was diagnosed with ALS.

Our last run together was, ironically, the Leadville International Beer Mile.  Now we spend more time together watching movies and eating food.  We also talk more.

But I have to admit, it's hard.  It makes running hard and at times makes loving running hard.  If you see me crying and running just smile like you assume I'm super pumped to be running or finishing. Or I'm just my normal emotional self.

Alfredo has limited finances and needs a LOT of help.  If you have even $5 to spare, consider making a small donation to his giveitforward fundraiser:

https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/whc7/alfredo-pedro-s-als-fundraiser/updates/116835

And please, don't ever take running for granted.  Never take a finish line for granted.  Your entire life can change in one second.  Be grateful!

Winter Ultras - Part 2 - Frozen Otter

Amanda and I near the start

On January 17, 2015, I set out with a few of my fellow Flatlanders to tackle the Frozen Otter Trek, a 64 mile race in the northern Kettle Moraine State Park in Wisconsin.  The race is historically a tough race, with a 25% completion rate.  The race has a set of required gear that must be carried.  There is very minimal support.  Water, Coffee, Hot Cocoa and Ramen every 8 or so miles.  We were also given one hot sausage.  the required gear added a significant burden.  The forecast called for favorable conditions so I brought the absolute minimum.

The race consists of two out and back treks from a lodge in the park.  One is 46ish miles, while the other is 18ish.  To be an official finisher you need to make it to one of the posts and back to the shelter.  The finishers are then ranked by distance covered.  

To be one of the "Frozen Few" you have to make it through the entire course in less than 24 hours. 

The race takes place on mostly single track moderately hilly trails.  My watch got about 5,000 feet of climb in the first 40 miles.  I would guess the total was not more than 7,500 feet.  

Lucky for us, the temperature was very warm for that time of year.  I don't think it got below 20 and I think for quite a bit of the time it was around 30.  Cold wasn't a factor.  I didn't have to use any of my required gear.  The conditions were ideal.

Striking a pose with Mike Mike

That being said, this was no cakewalk.  25 degrees isn't 70.  Moreover, I've never done a 100K.  It's a strange distance.  In this instance having little aid was really challenging.  I found myself craving hot food and desperately craving coke.  I never realized how important it is on long runs/races!  I bonked a bunch.

I started with my friend Amanda Runion.  Our plan was to run the entire race together.  the other two friends we ran with, Mike Mike and chuck Schultz set off on their own.  We did see each other several times throughout the race.  With 9 miles to go Amanda, Chuck and I set out to finish together.

Amanda got cold because Chuck and I were moving so slow.  I mean molasses slow.  I mean like 45 minute mile slow.  Chuck and I have been in several bonk-bunkers before so we made the best of it....hallucinating the final mile with false identifications of the finish, followed by "that's not real" in unison.

In the end Chuck and I finished in 22:14.  I joined the frozen few and my name will be permanently added to the Frozen Few plaque.  Amanda was about a half hour in front of us and Mike was about a half hour behind us.  We all had a blast.  I would do this event again, but I did miss my sled.  I think I would prefer a sled pull event if given a choice.  If I do it again I'll bring a few cokes for sure!

Gear: I nailed the gear on this one.  I wore my Hoka Stinson Trails and did not change shoes at all.  Injinji mid calf hiking socks, shorts (yep, no pants at all), Act'eryx Stryka Hooded Base Layer and Arc'Teryx Gamma Men's Hoodie  Arc'teryx Phase II Liner Gloves, Flatlander Buff.  Black Diamond Headlamp.

Finishers Dog Tags and Buff

Finishing

Partial Strava Data: https://www.strava.com/activities/242967553

Winter Ultras - Trying Something New

Winter Ultras

Part I - Tuscobia 150

     I decided to kick off 2015 with something new and interesting - Winter Ultras.  I signed up for the Tuscobia 150 Mile race and the Frozen Otter 64 mile trek.  These are two very different races that both had a common element of racing through colder temps in a relatively self-supported manner.  the result was many lessons learned, some success and some failure.

     Tuscobia 150 is part of the Tuscobia Winter Ultras which start in Park Falls, WI.  They are directed by Chris and Helen Scotch.  The races involves foot, ski and bike divisions along the Tuscobia Snowmobile Trail which runs from Park Falls to Rice Lake, WI.  There are three distances, 150 miles, 75 miles and 35 miles.  I chose the 150 because I thought "75 wasn't far enough."

     Tuscobia requires that you carry mandatory gear, including, but not limited to a sleeping bag, bivy sack, stove and fuel, pot, fire starters and a host of other safety items.  Most people carry these items on their sled.  As such, I needed to get a sled for the race.  I chose the Arrowhead Racing Toboggan by Black River Sleds:

     I'll list the specific items I bought on the required gear list before just for reference.  I went cheap on the sleeping bag, spending less than $100.00 for an item that could have cost up to $1,0000.00.  I also decided against taking the plunge and buying a similarly priced jacket for 'when things go wrong.'  Next time I'll probably take the plunge and add these two items to my gear.

     Sadly, we did not get any snow for me to practice with my sled.  As such, I went into the race having never pulled a sled.  I would have really liked to have had more practice.

     The pre-race meeting took place outside, on bales of hay in the cold.  The RD's checked my sled to make sure I had all of the required gear, gave us a short speech and sent us off to bed.  The race started at 6:00 a.m. in Park Falls.  It was about 10 degrees and snowing pretty heavily.  The scene was beautiful.  Imagine a wide path with pine trees thickly coated in snow.  I immediately felt extremely sharp pains in my calfs from running with a sled for the first time.  I thought I was in serious trouble.  I pushed on for an hour and then made my first stop for food and water.  I accidentally spilled water in my sled, which required me to take several items out and shake off.  I was frustrated and a little worried about the fact that this much was going wrong so early.

     Well, the great thing about a 150 mile race with only two (2) aid stations (basically to be used every 50k or so on the out and back course) is that you have a lot of time to work things out and settle in.  That's exactly what happened.  My calf stopped hurting.  My gear got organized.  And I got in the zone.  this is not to say that I didn't have more aches, pains and complications.  My back began to hurt quite a bit from pulling a 50+ pound sled for the first time.  I also had some really sharp foot and knee pains that mysteriously came and went.  I was able to ignore all of this and continue moving forward.  The lesson I learned was that these things were all temporary, and that if I continued on they would fade away.  With the exception of the back pain, they all did.  My goal was to get to each 50K checkpoint in under 12 hours.  I reached the first checkpoint in around 9.5 hours, which made me happy.  I put some hot foot in my body and got back on the trail.

     The second leg is where shit got real.  Very real.  within the first ten miles after the checkpoint I ran into another runner, Mitchell Rossman, who lured me to the town of Raddison with the promise of red hot cheeseburgers (you aren't allowed crew or pacers but if you happen upon an open local establishment you are free to enter and do whatever you want).  I was easily convinced.  The only problem was, it was closed.  Not so with the bar next door, which was having $1 cheeseburger night.  Inside I found my closest friend in the race, Aaron Ehlers eating a pizza and calling it a day (he was beat up from the North Face 50 a week earlier).  I ate a few cheeseburgers and talked Aaron back into the race.  He is an experienced winter camper, a great runner and a fun guy.  Something told me I would need him.  And I did.

     The temperature dropped at night into the negative double digits.  so i found myself on the trail, wearing everything I could and unable to get warm.  It was -10.  I had 22 miles to go to the next checkpoint.  at 3 miles an hour that another 7ish hours in negative temps (which got into the -16's at a few points).  I got scared.  Really scared.  Aaron was talking about just saying screw it and jumping in the sleeping bag.  I was facing the prospect of either joining him (which scared the shit out of me) or running on alone in those conditions.  Neither sounded good.  So I did something I'm not very proud of....I begged him to keep running with me.

     Thankfully it worked.  We froze our asses off and made it to the next checkpoint (Birchwood) at 3:30 a,.m.  I was still 2.5 hours ahead of schedule, so I decided to take a two and a half hour nap before heading back out.  I woke up at 6:00 a.m. and it was still -15.  The idea of moving slowly at that temp after sleeping (i.e. slowly) was not in the slightest bit attractive.  My back hurt.  My feet hurt.  I wimped out.  After snoozing a few more times and waking up to the same kind of temperatures I pulled the plug.  I was glad for the experience of making it to 100K+ in those conditions.  I learned a lot.  I decided that I needed a little more experience before I could tackle what I was facing that morning.  Another failure.  Another lesson learned.

     Sue Lucas ended up winning in around 48 hours.  So impressive.  of the 18 starters 6 finished.  Next year I plan to be among them.

Gear:

Arrowhead Racing Tobbagan - Black River Sleds
Sierra Designs P.A.W. Bivy
Thermarest Z Lite Sleeping Pad
Slumberjack Lattitude -20 Sleeping Bag
Esbit CS585HA 3-Piece Lightweight Camping Cook Set for Use with Solid Fuel Tablets
GSI Outdoors Halulite 1.1-Liter Boiler
Arc'Teryx Atom LT Hoody
Arc'Teryx Gamma Hybrid Men's Hoody SL
Arc'Teryx Phase Liner Gloves
Arc'Teryx Venta LT Gloves
Arc'Teryx Stryka Men's Hoody
Arc'Teryx RHO AR Balaclava
Arc'Teryx Thorium AR Jacket