race report

Kettle Moraine 100k - 2021

Saturday, June 12, 2021

La Grange, WI

What A Day

What a day I had out in the kettles. For me and just about everybody involved, this would certainly qualify as Type II fun. For select others, Type III fun may be a more appropriate categorization. The 100k had a 50% DNF rate. That means half of the runners who started the race did not complete it. This was largely due to the heat and humidity. Early June can get relatively hot in Wisconsin, but a heat index that peaked at 95° and a relative humidity dancing around 90% is abnormally hot. Heat doesn’t just make running more tiresome or increase the chances of overheating the body. It also creates a more vital need to balance fluids and electrolytes: too much or too little of either can be disastrous. Not to mention sunburn, bugs, and all the typical annoyances of a race. And for a lucky few, it seems the course haunted us after we crossed the finish line. I went to bed Saturday night with bug bites all over my legs. By Monday my “bug bites” had begun to fester, and it became increasingly apparent that I had found poison ivy somewhere along the trail and left with a mild rash to show for it. Suffice it to say that the race conditions were TOUGH.

out of the gate

The first steps are always a test for me. There’s excitement, nerves, doubt, and all these other feelings that need an outlet, so I tend to start fast, too fast. I know it’s not sustainable, but I get caught up in the moment as I start my race with a hundred other runners. And this year especially, after so many of us had been pushed away from the sport by 2020 cancellations, the atmosphere was electric. People were excited to be back together. So of course, I went out too quick. But I found a grove around the 2 mile mark and fell into pace with Josh. Shortly Monica and Paul joined our little group, and we began chatting and getting to know each other. This is one of the things I love about ultras, it’s easy to make friends with strangers. Josh was living in Colorado, but had grown up in the area. He used the race as an excuse to come back and visit family, or used family as an excuse to come back and race. Paul was living in the La Crosse area, but had gone to high school out in Colorado. Monica lived in the far suburbs of Chicago. My mom had grown up in Colorado before moving out to the far suburbs of Chicago in high school. I don’t think this means anything, but I found it a fun coincidence that tied us all together a bit. I’ve written about it in every race report so far, but I’m going to say it again, the ultra community is something special. We all continued together until about the 8 or 9 mile mark.

The First of Many Struggles

While I enjoyed the company, I knew that I would have to pick up the pace a bit if I hoped to achieve a sub 12 hour time. I had this in the back of my mind as an achievable time. So, I broke away from the group a bit and carried on. There were constantly others within sight for the first half of the race, but after leaving the group, I would continue largely on my own until I neared the end. I had my own plan in mind, and while I wasn’t against chatting with others for a bit or adjusting to the conditions, I knew that I would need to run my own race and not get sidetracked.

Around mile 10 my shoe came untied. I jumped off to the side to quickly tie it and continued on my way. It felt a little bit loose as I started back up again, but I ignored it not wanting to stop again to retie it. I didn’t know it at the time, but this would be the first of several small setbacks that would later pop back up as larger issues. The old adage, a stitch in time saves nine, would prove to be true today.

Around mile 15 I began to feel nauseous. For me, this is a key indicator that my nutrition is off. I’ve struggled with my nutrition in every race I’ve run, so this was no surprise. But I was a little disheartened because I thought I had solved the nutrition problem and was employing a new strategy to address it. I was eating roughly 250 calories of real food every hour and switching between water and electrolytes on a regular interval. This should have been enough calories to keep me sustained, but not so much that I would have issues digesting it. Apparently, I still don’t have it quite figured out, but I again have a few more ideas to combat it next time. Regardless, the nausea got worse and by mile 20 I felt like I was going to throw up. At that point I stopped eating, and switched almost exclusively to liquid calories.

This was made worse by the toughest part of the course in my opinion, which comes up shortly after the 20 mile mark. There is a roughly 5 mile section of open prairie. The sun beats down directly on you and the prairie grasses hold moisture increasing the humidity in the area. This scenario wouldn’t be too bad on a cool spring or fall day. For me, this segment was a suffer-fest. I found small relief as I came across two other Bigger Than The Trail (BTTT) ambassadors. I ran into Andy shortly before the prairie segment and Peter about a mile into it. I ran and chatted with each of them for a bit which allowed me to momentarily forget about my stomach and the heat. But they were both running the 100 mile and keeping a more conservative pace, so after a few minutes with each, I kept on my way still chasing that 12 hour time.

The prairie was a battle between hiking to conserve energy and running to get out of the heat as quickly as possible.  That’s when I encountered another unforeseen challenge. By the time I entered the prairie, my shorts were completely soaked and dripping with sweat. This is kind of annoying but largely doesn’t bother me. It adds a little extra weight, but the water cuts down on the friction. However, in the heat and direct sun of the prairie, my shorts dried completely, and this caused chafing of my thighs to start. I had forgotten to apply any skin lube at the beginning of the race, so I already had a bit of chafing had started. This exacerbated it. Despite the fact that I had applied some skin lube at the 19.5 mile aid station, I was already behind the issue, and it would continue to get worse as the day went on.

Glimmers of Hope

I finally made it out of the prairie and back under some tree cover and was feeling a little bit better. I had also taken note of a stream crossing about halfway through the prairie section. I heard that the water was cold, so I made plans to stop on my way back through. The stomach issues were still there, but at least I was out of the heat. I had also begun packing ice into my hat at aid stations, which further helped in cooling myself back down. From here there is a roughly 5 mile segment and then a lollipop loop before heading back toward the start/finish. Around this time, I ran into John, another BTTT ambassador, and chatted with him before continuing on my way.

The 5 mile segment was largely uneventful and continued mostly as planned. I felt good headed into the loop, but it wore me down more than I was expecting. The elevation profile of the loop is largely rolling terrain. I used my normal strategy of hiking the ups and running the downs, to keep a decent pace, but the climbing was starting to take a toll on my quads. They started to get tight which resulted in the occasional cramps and minor leg spasms. Again, this was the start of a small issue that would come into play later.

I completed the loop and started my way back to the start/finish. Again the 5 mile segment went fine. Thankfully, I had brought a spare soft flask and had thought to fill that up in addition to the water bottle that I had been using before I headed out to the prairie segment again. Within a mile of my return trip in the prairie, my chafing really started to get bad, and it hurt to run. My inner thighs were red and raw, and the chafed area was only getting bigger. And I still had more than a marathon left to go. I ended up hiking the vast majority of that segment, so my decision to carry extra water was key to getting out with any sort of hope.

The only thing that kept me at a semi-decent pace was the thought of a pit stop at that stream crossing. I was going to sit down in the cold water, take a moment to mentally regroup, and leave with high spirits. I finally got to the stream and found out my plans were impossible. The trail crossed the stream on a bridge. Off to either side, there is a steep bank with a roughly 2 foot dropoff that leads to the stream bed. As pathetic as it may sound I didn’t think I could climb down the bank. I thought that maybe I could lie on the bridge and reach into the water, this wouldn’t be anywhere near as nice, but it would be something. Then as bent over to get down on my hands and knees my legs spasmed, and I knew getting down would be more pain than it was worth. So I continued on leaving my hopes of a cold, refreshing dip behind me.

Things Are Looking Brighter?

I finally got out of the prairie segment. I knew the toughest portion of the race was over with, and despite my pain, my mental state was unusually high. Runners will often refer to the pain cave. This is a point in the race when your body hurts, you question why you signed up for the race, you contemplate dropping out, you enter a negative headspace that can be difficult to get out of if you don’t have your “why” figured out. This is a delicate moment. If you allow yourself to stop moving for too long, or start to pity or doubt yourself, if you sit in the pain cave, your race is over. Different people use different strategies, but runners need to engage a mental override and just focus on moving through the pain cave. Eventually, you will find your way out of the pain cave, and you can move forward again in better spirits. And while I know that pain cave well, I hadn’t entered it, and wouldn’t the entire race. This was an unexpected but welcome aspect of the race. With all the struggles I was currently having, a trip into the pain cave may have ended my day early.

At mile 45 I hit my drop bag and was excited to apply some more skin lube to help my chafing, except it was bad enough at this point that It hurt to apply the lube. It comes in a deodorant-like applicator, and the pressure necessary to get it on my skin was more than I could bear. So I threw it in my pocket thinking I could continuously apply as much as I could tolerate, keep moving, and reapply when it became unbearable. And that shoe that came untied early on, the one I neglected to retire tighter, over the last 35 miles it had begun to rub. I was now developing a blister on my heel. My legs were still spasming. But my stomach issues had finally gone, and I no longer felt the need to vomit.

The Final Nail

I had started getting tripped up by roots and rocks. The “ultra shuffle”, while a good way to expend as little energy as possible on wasted motion, is not great for clearing ground objects. I would stumble and pain would shoot through my legs from the hurried, jerked motion of catching myself. Them at mile 50 I tripped and actually fell. That was hell because my legs instantly seized up from the cramps. I did everything I could to break the fall with my hands before landing on my stomach. I had to lie on the trail for a moment before I could figure out how to get up. My legs would barely bend at this point, so I had to do a push-up, then contort and get myself up the rest of the way by pushing off a nearby tree. It was likely a comical sight had anybody been there to witness.

Once I was finally back to my feet, I stood off to the side bent over trying to settle my legs when a few other runners rolled up behind me. Asking if I was alright and getting the low down of what had happened, one of them instantly supplied salt tabs for me to help with the cramps. This might be the only thing that kept me able to run after that point. By now all hopes of a sub 12 hour time were completely shot, but I knew that I was going to finish. And shockingly, I still had a feeling that I was near the front of the pack. Conditions had been tough for me, but they had been tough for everybody else as well, so my early lead may be keeping me in a decent position. So, despite all that was going wrong, I was determined to keep moving. From that point forward I was managing a half run, half walk as I played leapfrog with several runners from various distances. My only focus was to keep moving. I wanted to stop and rest. There were benches dotted along the side of the trail that called like sirens. But I knew that stopping would only prolong my pain, so I kept moving.

I received a few boosts near the end of the race. On my way out, I had noticed a patch of wild blackberries. On my way back through, I made a point to stop and gorge myself when I came across them again with 8 or so miles left to go. I had still largely foregone solid foods, but I doubted these would cause issues. Then I arrived at the Bluff Aid Station with 7.5 miles left to go. This was the BTTT aid station staffed by friends and friends with a wealth of running experience at that. Their encouragement and just seeing friendly, familiar faces was a huge pick me up as I was entering the home stretch. I took a few minutes to restock and recoup, got a short pep talk, and continued my run/walk which was now turning into a hobble.

End In Sight

With about 3 miles left to go, I caught up with another runner that I had passed and been passed by several times in the second half of the race. Or maybe he caught up with me, at this point things are blurry enough that I don’t really remember. We were both in rough shape and made an unspoken decision to finish out the race together. That was a huge blessing as it would be getting dark soon. Neither of us had a headlamp as we had both expected to be at the start/finish long before dark. But daylight was becoming precious, and we had to get moving to finish before dark. After walking for a bit, one of us would say “ready to run?”, and we would run for a short burst until being forced to slow back to a walk. We held each other accountable. And we continued this until we crossed the finish line.

Determined to end on a high note, I sprinted (or at least the closest thing I could do to sprint at this point) and crossed the finish line in 13 hours, 55 minutes, and 59 seconds where I was greeted by the embrace of my girlfriend. More than anything, I was just excited to stop. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sit down, but simply standing still felt incredible. I then received my finisher buckle and was informed that I had finished 5th overall for the 100k and 1st in my age group. These are never included in my race goals, but they certainly come as a pleasant surprise after putting in that much effort. I took a few minutes to chat with Michele, the race director, and some of the others that I knew at the start/finish and thank everybody. Then I called it a day and started my trip back to my hotel.

afterthoughts

I’m writing this less than 24 hours after finishing. My legs are sore, my blister hurts, and my chafing is still killing me. It’s not logical to look back at this, all the pain and struggle, and think fondly of the experience, but I do. That’s the beautiful thing that I, and many others, find in this crazy sport. Enduring and conquering these challenges allows me to transcend the arbitrary limitations that I’ve put in place. It allows me to dig deep, look into my soul, and explore the untapped potential that hides inside. But I remind myself that I’m not special, none of us are really, we all have that reserve. We just need to find the pursuit that allows us to access that potential. At the end of the day, we truly are just ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

Shoes: Saucony – Mad River TR

Gear: Saucony - shorts, Inov-8 – pack, Injinji - socks

Wearables: Garmin - Forerunner 945, Oura Ring

Nutrition: ATH Organics - supplements, Nuun Hydration – electrolytes, Epic Provisions and Clifbar - bars

Recovery: ATH Organics - Post, Nuun Hydration - Recover