(The Belated and Far Too Wordy) 2016 Superior 100 Race Report
Location: Superior Hiking Trail in northern Minnesota, from Goosebury Falls to Lutsen Ski Resort
Date: September 9-10, 2016
Distance: 103.1 miles (because ya know, why not run an extra 5k?)
Pre-Race
Heading into taper mode 2+ weeks out from the September 9th start date, I recognized that I hadn’t put in the work throughout the summer that I had intended. There were definitely positives…I rarely missed my weekend long runs, 98%+ of my training was trail specific (though nothing in the Twin Cities metro can
truly mimic the terrain of the Superior Hiking Trail), I had been rolling my legs a bit more than in years past hoping to alleviate IT band issues, and I was generally healthy. That said, I definitely didn’t get the total mileage in that I had intended in part due to family life with two kids and also due to random occurrences including among other things a bout with influenza and a wakeboarding rib injury.
Two days out we headed up to the north shore to spend a couple days before the race enjoying one of our favorite local retreats. Except enjoy I could not. My mind raced. Nervousness and anxiety consumed me around the clock. Having never experienced that level of pre-race worry before, the emotional toll simply compounded. It honestly felt like my energy was being continually drained in those couple days leading up to the race.
[SIZE=11pt]The night before the race we headed to the packet pick up and pre-race briefing. [/SIZE]What an electric environment. The Superior Fall Trail Races include a 100, 50, and marathon and are put on by
Rocksteady Running [SIZE=11pt]with its founder John Storkamp also serving as the race director. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]If you’re ever in Minnesota, I couldn’t more highly recommend running in one of their events. [/SIZE]There simply can’t be trail runs/ultras that are better put together than the events that they put on. As an added bonus, John custom designs all the race t-shirts and they are always kick ###. John gave a spirited brief of the course, rules, and a few useful tidbits of course related info…
it’s a bit muddy and boardwalks/bridges are as slick as they’ve ever seen. Ian Corless (ultrarunner, professional photographer, and host of Talk Ultra) was on hand to cover the 100 mile race and as well as photograph the event. Ian shot what my wife would refer to as “Senior Portraits” for every runner. To smile or not to smile, that is the question. Well, I guess I was
happy for the time being. Or wait, is that nervous?
[SIZE=11pt]We headed back to the house we had rented, packed up a bit, and did one final gear check before heading to bed around 10pm. [/SIZE]I awoke at 5am after a fitful night of sleeping and finished packing our stuff up. In addition to crewing me during the day, my wife and children would be heading up to check into a different place near the race finish while I was racing. I had a couple eggs and a piece of toast with peanut butter to get a little fueling going early. After fully packing and getting the kids ready, we checked out at 6:45am and arrived at the race start at 7:15am, well in advance of the 8am start time. Cleaned out the system at about 7:45am, gave the family a hug and kiss, and we were ready to roll.
The Plan
[SIZE=11pt]I knew I’d see my wife/children at a few aid stations, but wanted to plan no reliance on them for support in the event anything unexpected came up. [/SIZE]So, I packed
drop bags [SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE]for miles 25, 51, and 77 with everything I’d need ranging from Tailwind, Huma gels, headlamps, extra socks, warmer overnight clothes, a portable charger to keep my Garmin charged, etc. My nutrition plan was the same as it’s been in my 50K/50mile races…one bottle of Tailwind (200 calories) , one Huma Gel (100 calories), and an S-Cap or two every hour. Sprinkle in whatever else called my name at the aid stations and go from there. I figured I’d have to mix in some solid foods on this race, though having never gone this far I had no idea what that would entail. We’ll play that by ear I guess. I had three pacers lined up; Lucas, a good friend and incredible runner had agreed to pace me from mile 51 through 85; Joe, friend of 30 years and non-trail runner was going to jump in from 85-91; then after running another 5 mile section on my own, my wife then planned to run the last leg with me, from mile 96-103. It was that section I looked forward to the most and tried over and over to visualize.
Pre-Race Goals
[SIZE=11pt]It’s worth mentioning that my ultimate goal was to finish. [/SIZE]First and foremost, this race had been on my mind since finishing [SIZE=11pt]the Superior 50 in 2014. [/SIZE]So for the better part of two years I thought about this specific moment. And while I didn’t tell a lot of people I was doing this race, word spread, and to be quite honest it was a bit draining talking about it. I wasn’t running this race for anyone but myself, but I think part of the nerves impacting me were starting to formulate from the knowledge that lots of people now knew I was running this race which made me a feel a sense of pressure to finish. Ultrasignup projected me at a ~31 hour finish based on my past race results, but deep down I was hoping for a bit faster time than that. So being the numbers guy I am, I geeked out. Someone had posted the aid station splits from 2015 for every batch of hourly finishers (i.e. the 24, 25, 26, etc hour finishers hit each aid station at X:XX time on average). Based on this data, I projected a seemingly best case finish of 27 hours since the average 27 hour finisher from the year prior had come into the 51 mile mark at 11:09. Considering my Superior 50 finish in 2014 was 11:59 and my only other 50 mile race was 11:05 (on slightly easier terrain), 27 hours seemed a bit optimistic. More realistic seemed something in the range of 28 hours (11:48 at 51 miles), 29 hours (12:08), 30 hours (12:26) or beyond. Oh, I prepped and carried a
laminated dork card of this info with me and provided the same to my crew and pacers so they could better estimate how it was going and roughly when my next aid station visit might be. Dorked out. I told you.
The Race – Miles 0-25: Do No Damage
[SIZE=11pt]I wanted to get through the first quarter of the race feeling great without any significant issues, then carry that feeling on through the midway point where I’d be able to pick up my pacer. [/SIZE]Approximately 95% of the race is run on the single track of the Superior Hiking Trail with the race motto being Rugged, Relentless, Remote. That’s a pretty accurate summary, especially the rugged and relentless descriptive. The rugged is brought forth via a seemingly endless supply of
rocks and
roots. [SIZE=11pt]The relentless is provided by the Sawtooth Mountains, named as such because of the constant ups and downs. With[/SIZE]
21,000 feet of elevation gain and 21,000 feet of loss [SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE]over the 103 miles, there’s simply very little truly runnable terrain available to get into any sort of rhythm. The SHT parallels
Lake Superior [SIZE=11pt]which is the largest freshwater body of water in the world. [/SIZE]Despite the ruggedness and relentlessness, a land dispute a couple years back shifted the first 4.5 miles of the race onto the paved Gitchi-Gami recreational trail. Road race!
[SIZE=11pt]After the race director briefly addressed everyone, we were off. [/SIZE]I started about halfway back in the pack (wearing light orange shirt at 0:30 mark of the
"It All Started Here" Video [SIZE=11pt]) and I ran those first 4.5 miles at a comfortable 9:30/mi pace knowing that any time saved in an attempt to throw down faster miles on the pavement could cost me dearly later in race. [/SIZE]I chatted up a couple runners before we hit the single track 4.5 miles in with another 5+ miles to go to the first aid station. I felt myself working just a bit harder than I should’ve been for the pace I was running, but nothing yet to panic about this early on.
I’ll settle in I thought. I worked my way through a couple 10+ person conga lines before
latching onto a guy who had finished three out of the previous four Superior 100’s, all in the 30-31 hour range. He provided some comfort and insight into what lay ahead. Almost immediately from mile 5 on, my heart rate resided in the 160’s, when ideally I’d like to have been in the 140’s to mid 150’s. The temperature began to rise and the humidity reared its ugly head. It started looking like I better sit in this guy’s back pocket and hope I could hold on to the finish.
I was in and out of the first aid station in a flash, but somehow set down and left behind two of my gels. That set off a series of frustrations that threatened my mental state far too early in the race. At mile 14 I badly rolled my left ankle. Typically no big deal, but as it turns out I had rolled that same ankle on my last long training run 2+ weeks prior. No doubt it was a high ankle sprain from that training run as pain emerged up the side of my leg within days after. To treat that I had religiously taken ibuprofen, iced, and used the TENS machine for those two weeks leading into the race. Nevertheless, all that effort seemed for naught just fourteen miles in due to a single misstep between some rocks. Shortly before arriving at the mile 20 aid station, I felt a bit of a hot spot on the inside ball of my right foot. This was the first spot in the race where I was able to see my family. It was great to see them yet though they were present, I was eager to get in and out of the aid station as I had arrived in 4:16 which was pacing for a 31 hour finish based on my dork chart. I also decided to defer dealing with that hot spot at the next aid station since it was just five more miles. Bad idea. I struggled through those five miles, feeling a bit overexerted with my heart rate still spiking and the hot spot on my foot lingering. It was a relief rolling into mile 25 as there was my wife waiting for me with a chair on the ready. I’d somehow badly erred on the
Do No Harm portion of the race
. I was starting to take myself to a bad place mentally. But no worries. Just. Seventy. Eight. Miles. To. Go. ####.
The Race – Miles 25-51: It’s a Bit Early to be Busting out the Duct Tape
[SIZE=11pt]I plopped down into the chair and pulled took off my right shoe and sock. [/SIZE]
That’s not good. I never get blisters but a blister I had. About a quarter sized one had formed on the inside ball of my right foot and was bursting with fluid. I pulled a pin from my race bib, popped it, and then God bless the aid station medical personnel who worked on that thing for a solid five minutes. After draining it, she then cut some moleskin to place over it before wrapping with duct tape. “Yikes, it’s a bit early to be busting out the duct tape,” someone not-quite-silently-enough quipped while chatting with their friend not far away. I was still pacing slower than I had hoped at roughly a 31 hour finish, the heat/humidity was taking a toll on me, I had rolled my somewhat bum ankle, and now had three-quarters of the race remaining to deal with it being “a bit early to be busting out the duct tape.” And that person was absolutely right. A blister is one of the last things you want to be dealing with just 25 miles into a 100 mile race. And it wasn’t at all in the plan of #### I had planned to deal with at this stage of the race. I knew I had to snap out of this mental funk. “Alright, I think I’ve got to throw any time goals out the window and I need to just finish this thing” I told my wife. I was dejected. Not so much that I might not hit my goal times, but I was legitimately starting to think about how a 30+ hour finish at 2pm or later in the afternoon on Saturday would consume an entire second day of this trip for my wife and children. Yet my wife was so extremely supportive. After having been in this aid station for nearing ten minutes, I knew I had to get going. I looked down at my heart rate and despite the prolonged rest it hadn’t dropped below 140. I hung my head and got back on the trail. This next section from 25-35 is a long and challenging one yet one with possibly the best view in the race. I stopped for a minute and enjoyed this view of
Bean and Bear Lakes with another runner. After
navigating this section, the Mile 43.5 aid station arrived in 10:40, still on the nuts for a 31-32 hour finish. Still not feeling great but having resided myself to a slower finish, I sat down at this aid station for a few minutes on a large rock while I filled up my bottles. Though the blister on my foot was still noticeable, I decided not to remove my shoe/sock to take stock of any further damage. The next section is where my race started to flip. For one, it was reassuring knowing that I had one final section to go before picking up my pacer and having company for the remainder of the race. Secondly, the temperature had been cooling down and the humidity dropping which had slowly resulted in my heart rate sliding down into the 140’s and below. Also, it’s been at roughly the 40 mile mark of the two fifty milers I’ve done where I had historically run into some IT band/general leg issues. None present so far in this race, which was encouraging. Finally, though most of the trail is without cellular coverage I had decided to carry my cell phone on me in the event it was needed. A mile or so into this 7.5 mile section, I felt my phone buzz. While power hiking a climb, I pulled it out and had received a text from my wife. While I had anticipated meeting my pacer at mile 51 I had not anticipated seeing my wife again until the morning. We had the following text change:
Wife: Lucas and I are ready for you at Finland! He’s like a bull ready to be released!
Me: 1.5 hrs…
Me: Go home if he’s ok!!
Wife: 1.5 from now?!?! You won’t get here til almost 9pm?
Me: 8:45-8:55 likely. Left co rd 6 at 6:45.
Wife: Could you run faster? I’d like to see you once more!
[SIZE=11pt]So what did I do? [/SIZE]Of course I threw it down! (As best as a mid-packer can do on that trail after 44 miles.) I ran faster. I wanted to see my wife. I didn’t want her, nor my pacer, to wait any longer than they had been. I did stop to take a shot of a
cool view and the
sun setting on the trail. The headlamp came out as darkness set in. I slammed my left thigh into a thigh-high sawed off log which I failed to see in the darkness as another runner was letting me pass.
####, that hurt. No worries though, as I’m about to see my wife and pick up my pacer! That mishap ultimately left a fist size bruise on my thigh. I rolled into the halfway point in roughly 12 hours and 40 minutes. “Neil!” Lucas said as he picked me out of the darkness. “How’s it going?” he asked. “Much better. Awesome to see you.” And then it hit me. “Did Sue leave?” I asked. “Yes, she took off.” The ol’ rope-a-dope! She (unintentionally) got me to kick it up a notch on this last section as I was brimming with excitement to see her, and then she straight up left! I couldn’t blame her and in fact, had told her to do just that. It had been a long day for her no doubt and one of her friends had graciously come up to hang out and lend a hand with our children. She rightfully wanted to get back to the condo, kiss the girls goodnight, and hang out with her friend.
The Race – Miles 51-85: The Calm Before…nope, make that During the Storm
[SIZE=11pt]Lucas and I headed out of into the night. [/SIZE]A renewed energy for me and he was definitely ready to go. The weather was perfectly cool, my legs were feeling decent, and my heart rate was now residing in the 130’s. The toughest part about this section of the race was entering the unknown. At about mile 55 I started to have some discomfort in my left leg, directly above my knee. May have very well been quad related, but if it was it wasn’t where I would’ve anticipated feeling it. That impacted me a bit on some downhills but not all that negatively. The quads weren’t blown, that’s for sure, so we kept on moving. Strands of
Christmas lights being powered by generator led us into the most remote aid station at Sonju Lake, mile 58.7. This race rocks.
It was at about this point in the race where I told Lucas how badly I had struggled and had thrown time goals out the window. And while I had been internalizing it since about mile 35, I made it a point to tell Lucas that my goal had been to not be passed by another runner.
Start slow, finish strong. Part of what I did when I created my geek chart was assess each of the per mile paces by section. What I found was that no matter whether you were a 27 hour finisher in 2015, or a 34 hour finisher, everyone’s pace dropped to at least 20min/mile once nightfall hit. It would seem that that’s partly due to dealing with the technical nature of the trail at night, but also having already put in 50+ miles on your legs with possible sleep deprivation starting to set in. As the mile autolaps on my Garmin were buzzing, I kept noticing splits between 14 and 18 minute miles. We were passing others on occasion and kept pushing the pace as best we could. Somewhere in this stretch I stopped taking a gel every hour. It didn’t seem all that risky in the moment, as I felt great and was doing well fueling with just Tailwind and mainly oranges/coke at the aid stations. I probably took a total of three gels over the last 12 hours of the race. It seemed that shifting my diet towards a higher fat/lower carb ratio was paying off.
We hit the aid station at mile 63 and had improved our pace to a ~29 hour finish. A quick turnaround and we were out onto another long section to mile 72. Somewhere around mile 66 at roughly 1am a flash of light followed by a very distant crack of thunder caught my attention. “That’s not good,” I said to Lucas. “Seemed like it was way out over Lake Superior. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” he replied. Shortly thereafter the pattern repeated itself, only this time much closer. Within minutes,
it was on. A full on monsoon with lightning directly overhead was upon us. Just a few miles back we had been up on a peak descending some extremely technical rock sections.
Thank God we passed that. Water rolled down the trail, and the low lying ground we were currently on provided at least a little comfort from the surrounding lightning strikes. We were four miles from the next aid station and I’ll tell you what this storm did. It gave me a kick in the ### to get moving. We were navigating the darkness, the rain, the rocks, the roots, and threw down four miles that felt great and were as fast as we had run all night…13min, 14min, and a couple 15min miles (quit laughing you road racers!). We arrived at Sugarloaf (mile 72), the rain having hardly let up but having improved our pace towards a 28 hour finish. We were in and out quickly and off to Mile 78 where I’d pick up supplies from my last drop bag.
[SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE]We arrived at Mile 78 after a mostly forgettable section and restocked. We must’ve taken just a few minutes too long at this aid station as I started to get the shakes. I grabbed a cup of soup and while comforting it simply did little to truly warm me up. It’s moments like these where having a pacer is so beneficial. While I had made it this far in the rain still wearing my short sleeve tech t-shirt, it seemed a potentially appropriate time to break out my rain shell. The words “should I” had barely escaped my mouth and Lucas responded with an immediate “let’s just get moving and you’ll warm up.” It was evident that he was right within’ minutes of departing and I was glad I hadn’t pulled out that shell from my pack. We were now three quarters of the way through the race and I was seeing light at the end of the tunnel. My blister hadn’t gotten any worse and was now firmly removed from my mind. My legs felt reasonably well, aside from that quad annoyance and some aches starting to set in around the Achilles. We ran another fun leg together, Lucas’ last before letting Joe take over, and arrived at Mile 85 as dawn was breaking. We were into Temperance in 22:26, which put us in the range of a 27:XX finish. Considering I was pacing at a 31 hour finish just 34 miles prior when picking Lucas up, the evening run together couldn’t have gone a whole lot better.
The Race – Miles 85-103: I Don’t Want you to Regret Not Pushing Hard at the End
Joe was ready to go, rain be damned. Immediately upon departing Temperance, Joe dropped what turned into a bombshell on me. “Want to know what place you’re in?” he asked. I hadn’t once thought about it, other than early in the race when I assumed I was running somewhere in the mid-pack, likely around 80th. “Sure, I don’t care” I responded.
“Thirteenth.”
No way. Didn’t hear that correctly.
“You mean
thirtieth?”
“No, you were in thirteenth coming into that last aid station, and two guys left just minutes before you.”
“That’s crazy. I would’ve guessed something like 30th-40th. Well let’s give this a run and see what we can do,” I said.
[SIZE=11pt]Being it had been raining for five hours and that Joe had never really run trails before, it concerned me greatly that his first go of it would be on a wet,[/SIZE]
muddy, and slick [SIZE=11pt]Superior Hiking Trail. [/SIZE]But
Joe nailed it, including the largest single climb of the race up Carlton Peak, where we passed another runner. As we approached Joe’s planned drop off point at Mile 91 where I was going to run solo for a section before meeting my wife, he offered up that he felt great and would run the next section with me if I’d like. Of course! Let’s do this. So we did, and kept up the same pace towards a 27:XX finish. Over that section we passed two more runners. Top ten?! What? It was now that I actually started to care about my finish time for the first time since getting my blister popped at mile 25. Not that I
truly cared whether I finished 10th, 15th, 50th, or 200th. But having gotten this far and knowing where I was at, I didn’t want to get passed and end up in 11th as I knew I’d kick myself for a long time about that.
[SIZE=11pt]We arrived at Oberg, the final aid station at Mile 96, where my wife/children and wife’s friend Melissa were waiting for us. [/SIZE]It was incredible seeing my family for the first time since Mile 35, and knowing that I was going to get to spend the last 7 miles of this journey with my wife. Our one year old was
directing volunteers while our four-year old
relished the prospect of a parentless day. [SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE]It was an incredible run with my wife. She talked of waking up in the middle of the night to the thunderous storm and growing immediately concerned. She said her concern subsided when she checked on our progress, and saw that we were moving well. She knew I was in good hands with Lucas and her excitement in regards to our overnight progress as she told the story was palpable. She told me she was so excited that she was sending texts in the middle of the night to some of our close friends.
He’s in 24th place! Now he’s in 17th place! Her level of excitement made me feel proud. Proud that **we** were so close to finishing what had been a long journey. My wife’s sometimes dormant competitive gene came out in full force. As she ran in front of my for parts of this last section, seemingly pushing what was likely a very reasonable pace, I asked whether she would mind waiting for me. “But I just want to pass someone” was her reply.
Unfortunately we saw not a single other runner on that last leg. But that was just fine by me, as it seemed a chance we were sitting in 10th place. After cresting the last two climbs, Moose Mountain and Mystery Mountain, we started the descent towards the race finish at Lutsen ski resort. We started hearing the sound of the Poplar River, the most beautiful sound as it signifies that there’s less than a mile to go in this race. We exited the trail onto Ski Hill Road and my wife upped her pace while running a solid five feet in front of me. It felt fast so I flipped the field on my Garmin to pace, and we were pushing a sub 9 minute mile. “Hey, are you trying to show me up?” I asked. She laughed, before responding quite seriously. “I just don’t want you to look back and regret not pushing hard at the end.” For some reason, this really cracked me up. Nope, I didn’t really care whether that was a 9 minute mile or a 12 minute mile as the time was now irrelevant. The end was here. As we entered the resort and rounded the pool near the finish, we picked up the kids and crossed the finish together as a
family. Such an awesome feeling, as it was my wife who allowed for me to train for this while supporting and encouraging me along the way.
Post-Race Musings
I didn't finish 10th, but actually 12th. We were off a place (14th instead of 13th) leaving Mile 85 and while I was never passed by anyone out on the trail, someone may have sneaked through the last aid station while I was picking up my wife as a pacer and seeing my children. Not a care in the world about that though, as the race went from extremely frustrating on the first day to a near perfect ending over the last half.
We hung out after the race for a bit around the finish line. I checked on a friend who had been running, and he had dropped at Mile 63 during the night. It ended up being a pretty typical year with a 64% finish rate amongst those whom started. Sounds like the primary issues for those that dropped were the surprising heat/humidity on Friday and the rain/cold at night. I know I talked to at least a couple runners during the day on Friday who planned to power hike throughout the night. In thinking back, it felt essential that my pacer and I pushed reasonably hard through the night which helped generate plenty of body heat and kept us warm.
Nature finally called, and I hobbled off to the mens room. I got my ### halfway down to the toilet seat with legs at a 45 degree angle, and they just completely failed.
My full body weight slammed down onto the toilet seat, fortunate that the seat held up and that nothing was catastrophically trapped in the collision.
[SIZE=11pt]In addition to the t-shirt received for entering, I collected some pretty sweet race[/SIZE]
swag [SIZE=11pt]for finishing. [/SIZE]A cool wooden finishers medal, which is standard at all Rocksteady Running ultras. The customary finishers buckle which I suppose means that I’ll have to invest in some cowboy boots now. On second thought, no. Finally, a sweet hooded sweatshirt, name patch, and star awarded to all first time finishers. For any future finishes of the Superior 100, you are awarded an additional gold star to add to your sweatshirt. One of the runners finished their 19th Superior 100. Nineteen stars on their sweatshirt. Nuts. But the sweatshirts are definitely unique, as being able to put names to faces and see some of the veterans of the race wandering around this and other local races is a cool touch. Finally, my pacer Lucas rewarded me with a growler of an
appropriately named local brew out of Duluth.
We headed back to the condo and if there had been a swing to sit on in the shower, that would’ve qualified as the best shower of my life. But standing sucked, so it didn’t.
Recovery has gone incredibly well. I was shocked at how well I felt in the days after the race. Besides some minor chaffing and the blister, my body held up remarkably well. I didn't change any clothing, shoes, or even my socks that were wet over the last 40 miles of the race. Definitely had general leg soreness and some aches and pains, but I was walking fine and a short 3-mile run just a week later felt perfectly normal. About the only mildly concerning thing was a bout with the night sweats on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday following the race. I think my adrenal system was just a bit messed up.
It's true. You can eat whatever you want for a solid week after a 100 and not gain a pound. I ended up down about 3lbs a couple days after the race at 175lbs, which is my lowest weight since college. I did my best to pack on the pounds. I went into full on carboholic mode. Ate horribly. All day, every day. Had a craving for some junk food one afternoon so I bought a package of Chewy Chips Ahoy. Ate one row. Ehhh, let's have a half of one more row and save that last row and a half for tomorrow. Within the hour, the entire package was gone. Next morning. 175lbs. It didn't matter. It's pretty magical. If not for the downsides of running 100 miles, I'd highly recommend everyone run 100 miles just to experience the week after.
Results
Starters: 217
Finishers: 138 (64%)
Time: 27:22
Overall: 12/138 finishers
Men: 11/116 finishers
[SIZE=11pt]Masters: 2/44 finishers (unbelievably just missed out on a smaller version of one of these[/SIZE]
sweet wolves given to 1st place in each age group!)
1st/2nd half splits:: 12:42/14:40 (9th fastest 2nd half time, 3rd lowest % time increase in the 2nd half over1st half at 15.5%)
What’s Next
That’s a great question, and one I’m pondering. First and foremost, I’ll need to decide whether to throw my hat in the ring for Western States. It’s a potentially once in a lifetime race and (Duck's going to kill me for this) though I’m not sure I’d want to spend the requisite money to make that race happen it feels like with such low odds of getting in (isn't it like 1-2% for a first timer Duck?) that I should throw my ticket in the lottery and let fate decide. Other than that I kind of assumed this may be the one 100 mile race in my lifetime. But I did enjoy it, and my wife loved that I did so well relative to what I had anticipated. So now she's all about me "training seriously" for one.
We’ll see. I’m looking forward to cheering her on in a couple local races over the next month and enjoying some trail runs without a 100 mile race lurking around the corner.
TLDR Version: It was too long, so I don’t blame you for not reading!
Oh, and how the hell do you single space in this damn text box?!
