race report

Midwest States 100

Saturday, August 27, 2022

Westboro, WI

About the Course

The Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest sits in a more remote region of Wisconsin often termed The Northwoods. The forest totals over 1.5 million acres and accounts for roughly 4.3% of Wisconsin's land area. This region is historically known for its logging industry which is still very active today in certain sections of the forest. The loggers that made this area home were tough and weathered people. Hardships were commonplace in their lives. I can't help but see similarities between those early settlers and the 68 other runners who were about to embark on this challenge with me. The products of the logging industry were then fed to the papermills which helped to develop the Fox Valley area in which I now live.

Because of the logging industry, most of the area is new-growth forest planted in the 1930s. In addition to the forest, this region, like much of Wisconsin, is punctuated with features that stem from the glacial past. Streams and rivers wind down and around the kames and drumlins and terminate in kettles and glacial lakes that dot the landscape. Bogs and marshes are interspersed throughout the lowlands. In addition to the flora, this area is abundant in wildlife from large animals like bears (more on that later) and the occasional wolf or moose to smaller ones like field mice and frogs.

Chequamegon (pronounced Schwamigen) is an Ojibway word meaning shallow water in reference to the bay on Lake Superior of the same name. Thus, the Chequamegon section of the forest sits in the north-central part of the state closest to the bay while the Nicolet section lies eastward. The inaugural Midwest States 100 was held in a remote area of the Chequamegon section. Like many iconic Wisconsin races, the race course was built on the backbone of the Ice Age National Trail. The course started at the Mondeaux Lodge Dam and was comprised of an out, lollipop loop, and back which ended at the lodge for the terminus of the 100k. Runners that elected to continue for the full 100 mile distance then went on a shorter out and back section along the same course. One of the more unique things about this year's race was that the 100k and 100 mile did not start as separate races. All runners forged out together and were then faced with the question at the completion of the 100k as to whether or not they would continue for the 100 mile. This would create a tough decision point for many runners.

For clarity later on in my race report, I am going to give a little bit of nomenclature to the course. Runners went out on sections A, B, C, and D. The lollipop loop is section E. Runners then returned through sections D, C, B, and A. To complete the 100 mile runners then went back through A, B, and C before turning around and running C, B, and A. I realize that this is a little bit of a clunky way to describe it, but the segments do not have existing names that fit nicely into the layout of the race and did not have many defining features that drastically separated them from the others. So, for lack of a better idea, this is the terminology I will be using.

The Leadup

To say the leadup to this race went anything close to plan would be a lie. In the late spring, I bought a house. In the early summer, Emma and I began moving into the house, and with that comes a myriad of little projects that took up what would normally be my long-run time. Summer also happens to be the busiest of time year at work for me, so spending 12 hours a day between work and my commute is not abnormal. That means that unfortunately, my diet suffered a little bit too. Spending that much time away from home inevitably meant I was eating on the road more, and while I tried my best to make food choices that would nourish me, sometimes good choices were hard to find. In short, I had a lot going on. And if that wasn't enough to keep me busy, Emma and I also got married one week before the race. Because of the timing, I joke that we got to spend our honeymoon at Midwest States. Suffice it to say that I got a little bit less training than I had wanted this summer. Running can be a selfish pursuit, and I had to put it on the back burner in order to take steps forward in sharing a future with the person that I love, and I am content with that.

Pre-Race

I woke up Saturday at 04:15 a.m., 30 minutes before my alarm. Emma was already up and moving about, and I knew I wouldn't fall back asleep, so I got out of bed. The first thing I noticed was how heavy my legs felt. It's almost as if my body was trying to convince me not to start the challenge I was about to attempt. I would be pushing for the full 100 mile distance of the inaugural Midwest States 100. I pushed the discomfort to the back of my mind as I began my pre-race routine. I downed a bottle of Stok coffee and started slipping on my gear. I slowly gathered things from the hotel room as I came out of the sleepy fog. We packed the few remaining items into the car and began our journey to the trailhead. I don't remember most of the ride there as I was slipping back and forth between wakefulness and a shallow sleep. We arrived early and I elected to sit in the car for a bit trying to grab a few minutes of extra rest.

Finally, I decided to begin working my way to the start line. There I promptly ran into a few familiar faces and took the opportunity to catch up, discuss goals for the day, and just generally shoot the shit. One of the things I continually praise about ultra is the laid-back atmosphere and sense of community. In moments we would all be racing against one another, but in the light atmosphere of the starting corral, we are all friends. With minutes to go, Michele of Ornery Mule Racing took the stage and gave a few parting words, and then we were off.

100k Out

The race starts on Segment A, a rolling single-track that winds through pine forest. As the segment continues, the course eventually reaches a river bottom, and the soft pine needle bed gives way to dirt. Segment A ends on a road section shortly beyond the river bottom.

As the race started, the rolling hills and limited opportunity for passing kept the field relatively tight. As I approached the first small climb of the day, I again noticed how heavy my legs felt. I ignored the sensation hoping I would stretch out and loosen up as the day went on. I am notorious for starting a race too quickly and blowing up, so I made the decision to hold off for the first couple of miles and ease into the race. After two miles, the anxiousness got the best of me, and I began to push the pace a little bit where the course opened up and allowed me to pass. I wasn't running fast, but I was hitting a pace closer to what I was hoping to average for the day. As I came into the road section and the first aid station, I was just beginning to feel like I was hitting my stride. I checked in with Emma quick, grabbed an Epic Venison bar to eat, refilled my fluids, and was on my way.

Segment B continues to drop further in elevation. The terrain around the trail becomes swampier, and crossings of small creeks and streams are much more prevalent. Most of the water crossings are small enough to jump across or have logs and rocks laid out. Stable footing is enough to ensure that the feet stay dry. Segment B terminates at a road crossing and an aid station put on by WausaUltra.

I continued to pick up a bit of lost time from moving slower through Segment A and navigated the course at a pace I felt comfortable with, moving up a few positions. But just as I was getting comfortable, the rain began. All week, the forecast was perfect, but two days before the race the forecast had started to turn. Now a chance of rain persisted throughout the entire weekend. This was the beginning of what would be dubbed Mudwest States. To make matters worse, the low-lying ground and abundance of existing water offered no drainage paths for the rain. Water simply began to pool on the trail, and the small streams widened. I took care to try and navigate around the water and keep my feet dry. The trails were getting wet, but they were still manageable with a little bit of extra care and time. These conditions were a big contrast to what runners would encounter later in the race. I soldiered on through the rain and continued to make good time as I came into Aid Station 2. Again, I checked in with Emma, rehydrated, grabbed a Clif Bar, and started on the next segment.

Segment C is much like Segment B with one major difference, Segment C is abundant in bridges and boardwalks. With the rain only making the terrain wetter, the worst locations could be passed with relative ease. As I found out though, rain makes things slippery. I love shoes with molded cleats for the trail, especially if there is any chance of mud. They help to give a little bit of extra traction and bite when running. Due to the reduced surface area though, cleats have the exact opposite effect on solid ground. After sliding a little bit on the first crossing, I learned quickly that unless I wanted to risk injury, I needed to walk across the bridges. About halfway through Segment C, elevation begins to rise again lifting runners out of the water. I rolled into Aid Station 3 still making relatively good time. Again I refueled and rehydrated, grabbing a few extra provisions at this stop. Aid Station 4 has no crew access, so it would not be until Aid Station 5, roughly 11 miles, until I could get back to Emma and my supplies. While I do occasionally use Aid Stations, I prefer to use drop bags or crew due to the stomach issues I've had in the past. I now have my system dialed to keep me going strong; unfortunately, many of the items I use aren't often found at aid stations.

Segment D for me is a little bit blurry, but from what I remember it was similar to Segment A in terrain. The rain finally started to let up, bringing a mental reset, and I was entering the stage in the race that I describe as meditation in motion. I was so zoned out that I made a rather important mistake. There was a waterdrop shortly after Aid Station 3. I paid no attention to the mileage or time it took me to get there and assumed this was Aid Station 4. I chugged two bottles of water wanting to stay on my hydration schedule and continued moving forward. When I arrived at the real Aid Station 4, I realized that I had consumed roughly 1.5 L of water without any electrolytes. This is far from the routine I follow, and while it was still minor, I could feel the effects it was having. I would be fine as long as I correctly adjusted. I doubled the strength of my electrolyte mix and made a mental note of upping the frequency of the salt pills I was consuming to try and bring myself back into balance.

Segment E finally departs from the Ice Age Trail and navigates gravel ATV trails to make a lollipop loop. Although I prefer dirt trails, the gravel was a nice change of pace, literally and figuratively. I was having to constantly remind myself to slow my pace because the gravel was deceptive. It was easy to get going much faster than I should have been. Aside from one larger climb, this segment was completely runnable. In addition to the rain stopping, my clothes were beginning to dry out. My feet were starting to get sore, but a change of socks at the right time would take care of that. Overall, my spirits were high as I rounded out the first major leg of the race. I reached Aid Station 5, talked through a quick strategy with Emma for the next few aid stations, and continued to finish the lollipop loop and begin my track back towards the start/finish.

100k Back

Now that I've covered the course in a little detail, I'll just touch on some of the major events on the 100k return. Somewhere on Segment D or C, I fell in line with Sarah. This race was unusual so far that I hadn't run with anybody consistently. I usually fall into pace with other runners and strike up a conversation. So, when I realized I would be running with Sarah for a while, I took the opportunity to get to know each other a bit. This was one of the highlights of my race. I love getting to know other runners in the ultra community, and the trail has a way of bringing out topics that don't typically come up in normal conversation resulting in deeper connections. I don't discuss too many conversations I have on the trail because I never want to share publicly something the other party hasn't consented to, but I enjoyed our conversation. After a while, we parted ways, and I pulled ahead a little bit.

When I saw Emma next, somewhere around mile 45, I did a complete wardrobe change. My clothes were starting to dry out from the morning's rain, but they were still rubbing and starting to cause chafing. In addition to that, my socks were still soaking wet. Getting into dry clothes gave me a mental boost as everything felt fresh. Interestingly, in this renewed mindset, the hallucinations started. Now I think I am probably more susceptible to hallucinations than others. I commonly experience mild hallucinations when simply laying with my eyes closed and have experienced vivid hallucinations in settings like sensory deprivation tanks. Never, though, have I experienced them while running. Fortunately, these hallucinations would be fairly tame. Throughout the remainder of the race, I saw no less than 40 people who weren't there, doing everything from sitting on a log to setting up tents to doing senior photo shoots. In addition to that, I saw a Viking statue and a 3' tall Bucky Badger plush toy. As I got closer to these entities, they faded into obscurity. I also had auditory hallucinations where I heard the sounds of aid stations, talking, cheering, clapping, etc. every mile or two.

Getting back onto Segment C on my return meant bridge crossings again. Though they had dried out a little bit, they were still slippery. One bridge in particular was heavily warped by years out in the elements and had a fairly steep incline from left to right. As I stepped onto the bridge, my shoes slipped out from under me, and I found myself hanging onto the edge of the bridge dangling over the stream below. I pulled myself back up, hesitantly shuffled forward, and continued on my way.

My running time had begun slowing down a little bit as fatigue set in, but I was still feeling strong. That was until I had returned to Section B. This section continued to get torn up as runners traversed the course and turned into a mud pit. I still made efforts to go around the water, but at this point some pools of water up to mid-calf in depth were unavoidable. The mud was tough to navigate and caked onto my shoes, doubling their weight. This was the first heavy hit that I took mentally. I wanted to stop running right there. I dug deep and searched for my "why." Typically, my "why" is selfish, but given my recent marriage, I found my "why" for this race had shifted. I was set on finishing because I wanted to prove to Emma that I was not the kind of person who quit when things got tough. I wanted her to know that she could rely on me to navigate difficult challenges and see commitments through to the end. Now I know that I didn't need to prove this to her, she already knows these things, but having it in the back of my mind helped push me through.

When I saw her again at the final aid station before the start/finish it was starting to get dark. I grabbed my headlamp and set out for the final leg of the 100k portion of the race. Being in such heavy forest, light during the day had a hard time sneaking through the foliage, so when the sun finally went down, it got dark, really dark. I don't spend a lot of time running with a headlamp, and the trail was hard to see in areas, so I slowed my pace yet again to ensure that I remained on course. About two miles from the start/finish, the most adrenaline-pumping portion of my race would come. I am 100% certain I heard a bear grunt, and it sounded relatively close. Now keep in mind I was having auditory hallucinations, so I don't know if it was real, but I know I heard it. I convinced myself that there was too much commotion for a bear to be around, but I picked up my pace and pushed this last stretch to get out of the area as quickly as I could. (Reports from later runners would confirm that others heard bear noises. Additionally, Michele would later go on to say during the race recap episode of The Dirt Podcast that her husband saw a bear near this area in the days leading up to the race. Based on this, I am convinced that this encounter actually happened.)

I finally reached the start/finish, and after checking in, I promptly sat down. It was nearly 10:00 p.m., and I was drained. Trudging through the mud was beginning to wear on me mentally, and forecasts of rain started back up again around midnight. I sat at a table contemplating whether I wanted to call it a day or get back out on the course for the 100 mile race I had come to complete. I discussed my feelings with Emma, and she did a great job encouraging me to forge on, but I made a condition to getting back on course. We set a timer for five minutes. I would take a nap at the table quick before I ventured back out. Sid, a friend I have run into at many races and events over the years, and the course director for this race, saw me sitting down, and likely reading my mental state came over and urged me to get back out there. I appreciate his encouragement, but at the time, all I could think about was catching a few minutes of rest. After what was likely two minutes of actual sleep, I threw my rain jacket on and headed back out for the next leg of the race.

100 Mile Out

This portion of the race is very fuzzy for me. My pace had slowed to hiking most sections. Between the mud and trying to stay on course in the dark, I was having a tough time running any but the most open and clear sections. Then the second round of rain came further deteriorating the trail conditions. I picked up some large branches and fashioned some makeshift trekking poles to try and relieve some of the strain on my legs. Occasionally, through other runners or aid stations, news would come concerning how many runners had stopped at the 100k mark. While I did have a sense of pride that I was out battling the course while other runners were deciding not to go back out, it didn't make the task at hand any easier. At some point, I picked up my headphones and threw on some podcasts to try and get my mind off the race and focused on something other than my exhaustion. It helped to an extent, but I would frequently turn it off so that I could hear my surroundings. When I did that, I was instantly drawn back into my deteriorating mental state. I had to dig back deep and remember my "why." Segments A and B, which took me roughly 3 hours at the beginning of the race, took me nearly 6 hours to cover this time. Meanwhile, the rain was coming down harder. What started as a shower had turned into a downpour.

Mid-way through Segment C as I was nearing the 100 mile turnaround, I was dealt my biggest mental blow. I realized that I was off course. As I mentioned, I don't spend a lot of time running with a headlamp, so I was a bit unfamiliar with my gear. I thought visibility was getting worse because of the fog and haze that the rain brought. What actually happened was my headlamp was growing dimmer as the battery died. Thankfully, I had the foresight to throw an extra headlamp in my pack and switched it out. But as I looked around, I had no idea where I was. I pulled up the .gpx file of the course I saved on my phone and tried to navigate back on course, but this was futile. I was in a section where the course was not well defined, and 20 feet off course might as well have been a mile. I circled, looking for any sign of the course when I finally came across the yellow blaze of the Ice Age Trail. I ventured forward cautiously, trying to reorient myself when I finally came across another runner. Only in talking to him did I realize that I had indeed found the trail but was headed in the wrong direction. I turned around and ran with him into the next aid station, but upon arrival, I was mentally done.

It was nearly 7:00 am when I arrived at the turnaround point for the 100 mile. I expressed to Emma how much I desperately wanted to quit. I didn't want to go through the mud again. Just the thought filled me with despair. But true to form she convinced me to keep moving forward. The rain had stopped, and it was looking to hold off for the remainder of the race. I had plenty of time to make the 36-hour cutoff. I didn't need to be fast, I just needed to keep moving forward. So, I changed into new dry clothes and brushed my teeth. This gave me just enough of a mental boost to head back out on the next segment.

From Hiking It In to Chasing Cutoffs

Shortly after leaving the aid station, I got off course again, though this time I had no headlamp to blame. I was simply wallowing in my pity and quit paying attention. This was a wake-up call that I needed to pay closer attention to what I was doing. I could hike it in to make cutoffs if necessary, but not if I was constantly getting lost. I pulled up the .gpx again, found the course, and continued on my way. Again I had headed in the wrong direction, but I was paying attention to the clues and was able to right myself before having to be corrected by another runner. I pushed on to the next aid station trying to run when I could but finding no strength to do so. Given all that had happened, I was at the lowest mental point of the race. When I finally reached the next aid station I was determined to do something about my feet which were really starting to get sore. The conditions were perfect for trench foot to begin setting in. Though I had been changing my socks, my shoes were still soaked, and my feet were beginning to feel the effects. I begged Emma to let me continue barefoot. I figured that with hiking two sections of mostly mud, barefoot would be just as good as shoes. She made a compromise with me. I agreed to a change of shoes for my way back on Segment B and could finish Segment A barefoot if I still wanted to. I would find out that agreeing to this saved my race. I took a shot of fireball before leaving the aid station and set back out.

Halfway through Section B, my fatigue got the best of me. I set a 5-minute timer on my watch, sat on a log, and fell asleep for what couldn't have been more than one minute. I was woken up by Terry coming up the trail. In ultra, people often talk about trail angels. Trail angels are people who miraculously cross your path at the perfect time. Terry could tell I was struggling and asked if I wanted to continue with him. I agreed, figuring that suffering would be easier with somebody to share it with. In talking to him, I got a shock. He informed me that the cutoff was not the 36-hour limit I had believed, but 34 hours instead. This meant that I still had plenty of time to finish, but I would need to pick up the pace to get it done. Faced with this realization, I found the strength to begin running sections with him again (sections I would not have been able to run barefoot). This was probably the biggest lesson of the race. I knew that ultra was much more of a mental challenge than a physical one, but seeing how my body was able to boot back up when I finally overcame the mental hurdle that I was stuck on was incredible! With his help, I navigated through Segment B nearly as fast as I had at the start of the race nearly 30 hours earlier. I had a new determination to finish the race and finish running at that.

As we reached the aid station, I quickly refueled and got ready to head back out when I noticed Terry sitting in a chair. I wasn't going to leave him behind when he had just helped me so much. We had a quick conversation where he told me he was waiting for his brother who was only several minutes behind us. With his blessing and knowing that somebody would come by shortly to pick him up, I headed out alone on the last Segment of the race.

I would love to say that I was able to run the final segment outright, but that would be a lie. While I was making up time running on my second (or maybe third, fourth, fifth) wind, there was still the issue of mud and water. At this point, some of the ponds had deepened to knee height. But I knew that the end was near and dry clothes were close. So rather than waste time moving around the ponds, I elected to go straight through most of them. As I left the swamps and finally started moving uphill back into the pine forest, I was relieved. There was a lot more elevation in this segment than I remembered in any of the previous treks through it, but the knowledge that I was miles from the finish line kept me going. As I rounded the last bend and the lodge came into focus, I broke into a run to finish the race. I greeted Emma with an embrace at the finish line as the emotions and realization of what I had accomplished came over me. Ultimately it took me 32 hours and 37 minutes to complete the course. I took another shot of fireball that I had thrown in my pocket minutes after finishing.

I took a few photos before spending the next hour or so sitting in a chair at the finish line cheering on other runners as they came in and congratulating everybody there. Sarah had finished 2 minutes ahead of me, and Terry and his brother were the next runners to cross the finish line after me. I finally got out of my wet socks and shoes and had my feet attended to while I drank my recovery shake and rested. As I sat, I reflected on what I had just done. I was beyond tired. I was sore in muscles that I didn't know existed. I was soaked to the bone and beginning to get cold. But I was fulfilled.

Running across the finish line, congratulating my new friend Sarah, finish line photos with Emma, and finally sitting down and letting my feet dry out.

Reflection

With a few days to reflect and having had many conversations with the people that I got to share this experience with, I wanted to share some thoughts. While I do enjoy it, fun is not the reason I'm drawn to ultrarunning. In fact, most of the time, this sport is not fun, at least not in the typical sense of the word. What draws me to ultrarunning is adversity. This race was by far the most difficult challenge I have ever been faced with. While beautiful, the trails quickly turned into a muddy mess with water pooled knee-deep at multiple points along the course. Navigating this course over any distance was a test in fortitude and resilience.

Looking back, I enjoyed this experience, but in the moment, I enjoyed very little of it. And that is exactly what I am searching for. Struggle is not a bad thing. It teaches me who I am and helps to build me stronger. It shows me where I am lacking but also gives me the tools to eventually overcome those shortcomings. It teaches me discipline and persistence. While these lessons are learned through practice of a very niche activity, they are directly applicable to life in general. I've often been told that I'm very calm and levelheaded. It takes a lot to get me worked up, but I wasn't always that way. I became that way because I have subjected myself to difficult things and learned how to overcome. I've learned that many of the things that used to bother me are silly and trivial. I've learned that those things aren't worth my physical or mental energy. This allows me to put more of my time and energy into the things that are worth it.

Every ultrarunner will tell you that the sport has changed their lives. It sounds like a corny cliché at this point, but you hear the sentiment echoed from so many because it's true. Ultrarunning has helped me to become a better person and allowed me to find strength that I didn't know I possessed. Now ultrarunning isn't for everybody, and I'll be the last person to say that everybody should do it. But with that in mind, everybody should go out and seek healthy adversity, whatever form that may take. I promise you there are parts of you just waiting to be uncovered at the other end of the challenge.

Proud to Partner With:

Bigger Than The Trail

Ornery Mule Racing

Shoes: Saucony – Mad River TR & Xodus ISO 3

Pack and Rain Jacket: Inov-8

Wearables: Garmin - Forerunner 945, Oura Ring

Nutrition: ATH - supplements, electrolytes, Epic Provisions - Venison Bar, Clif Bar - Peanutbutter Bar

Recovery: ATH - Post, FitAid - FitAid Rx Zero, Freeze Sleeves