race report

WausaUltra Limitless

Friday, May 3, 2024

Wausau, WI

On May 3rd, Wausau became the temporary endurance capital of Wisconsin. Some of the most remarkable runners I’ve ever met arrived at a small park on the outskirts of town to line up for an event that would push us to our limits mentally and physically. There was electricity in the air as we set up our camps near the start/finish line. As we set up camp, we found ourselves catching up with friends. One of the things I have come to love about this event is that it feels more like a family reunion, with the normal side of the family that you actually enjoy being around, than the start of a grueling endurance event. The already small, close-knit trail running community shines bright. This race has such a fun and inviting atmosphere, thanks in no small part to the incredible team of people that put it on, that it’s no wonder that many of the same faces return year after year. In the spirit of this, and to set it apart from the 2022 race recap, this will be much more about the incredible people I spent the day with, with a little bit of running sprinkled in.

While I lay out the race format more in-depth in my 2022 recap, I will cliff notes of it here. Runners have 60 minutes to traverse a 4.167-mile loop. If you finish the loop early, the remaining time is yours to do whatever you want. This extra time typically consists of changing clothes/shoes as necessary, eating and rehydrating, using the bathroom, and power naps. If you don’t finish the loop in time, you DNF (Did Not Finish). Every hour, a new loop starts. Runners who aren’t at the start line on time or chose not to line up for the next loop DNF. This continues every hour until one runner remains. The last remaining runner MUST finish one more loop than the second-place runner to take the win. The runner-up gets what’s called an assist.

Prerace Prep

I came into the 2024 race much better prepared physically and mentally than I had the 2022 race, and really, better prepared than any other race I have run. I was public about returning to the race and trying to improve my effort. Whenever somebody asked me my goal for the race, I told them “150 miles is my crazy unrealistic goal; 125 miles will be tough, but I think I can do it; and I’ll be disappointed if I don’t get to 100 miles.” So, right off the bat, I set the expectation for myself that running anything less than 100 miles would be a failure. And given the race format, if I did reach the 100-mile point, it would be my fastest 100-miler yet.

In addition to how much better prepared I was, I would have Emma there to help me this time. In a race format like this, when time can be tight, having Emma at camp to get things ready while I am out on course is a huge benefit. In addition to that, she can be a huge help when I’m mentally stuck in a rut or a dark place. As the race start grew near, I took some time to sit down and relax while she finished setting up some of the last touches in camp.

I mapped out the course in my head and reminded myself of the most important lesson I had learned last time. Slow down. I had done a good job of pacing myself at the 2022 event, but I had started too fast on the first few loops and dug into a hole that took a while to get out of. This time, I wouldn’t let the nerves or excitement get to me. I would take my time and save my energy for when I needed it.

I had also been experimenting with some new fueling strategies that would come in handy. One of the things I have struggled with is fueling during a race. My stomach doesn’t tolerate the sugar-packed, “quick energy” foods and drinks prevalent at endurance events. I have had to rely on real foods. While this isn’t a bad thing in and of itself, chewing gets difficult deep into a race, and I get sick of eating the same thing. During my runs, I had been playing around with Huel, a meal replacement shake, and found it to be a good middle ground between a real food that didn’t upset my stomach and something that was easy to consume. It ended up working great throughout the race with little issue.

Daytime Loops

9:00 a.m. rolled around, and the most anticlimactic race start you could imagine took place as 74 runners immediately began hiking. The loop starts by climbing a service road up to the top of the hill. The fact that nobody took off running out of the gate proved that we had a group of people saving their energy and intended to be here for the long haul. While I’m very familiar with the course at this point, the first loop is always great for reestablishing time checkpoints and assessing the overall condition of the trail. While the forecast for the next 36 hours was good, the trail was wet and muddy from rain Thursday. This would serve to be the most formidable challenge of the weekend.

The first few loops are also great for getting to know the other runners. I started out running with Wyatt. Wyatt and I have known of each other since at least middle school. We lived in neighboring towns and went to rival schools. We’ve been competing against each other in some form of competition for the better part of two decades. I wouldn’t have considered us friends in high school as we had never really spent time with each other, but the rivalry between our schools was friendly, which meant we had a lot of friends in common. It wasn’t until years later that we ran into each other in the ultra world that we really got to know each other on a personal level. We caught up a bit in the first few loops. Wyatt won the 2022 race here, and while he never said it outright, I could tell he was searching for another win.

In addition to Wyatt, I ran into a ton of familiar faces. Lily and Matt are staples at Ornery Mule events, one of the larger race organizations in Wisconsin/Illinois. I have been friends with Matt through social media for some time and finally met him in person at Galena Sky 2023. Lily, I met at Mines of Spain 2023. I spent a few miles in the middle of the night with her and her pacer while I was struggling on a trip through the pain cave. They are both incredibly talented runners but also great, positive people to be around. Kyle, I first met at WausaUltra in 2022 and have seen at many races since. Kyle is one of the most candid, hard-working runners I have met. He’s open and vulnerable about his failures but uses them as fuel to get better. He’s a great role model.

Likewise, Matt and Mark, whom I had also met at WausaUltra 2022, were back. I could tell immediately that both of these guys meant business. Matt was on his 3rd year in a row at this race and had logged 112.5 miles at both the 2022 and 2023 races. I don’t know Matt quite as well, as our paces rarely seem quite to line up, but he just seems to be a happy, good dude. And Mark, well, Mark had just completed something amazing. He is the first person ever to have completed the calendar run club (running the number of miles equal to the date) for the entire year. That adds up to almost 5,800 miles of running in a year or an average of about 15.8 miles per day. I had followed Mark’s journey since he announced his intent to complete the challenge.

In addition to all the familiar faces, I got to meet some new people, too. Early on, I fell in pace with a younger runner who also lives in the suburbs of my city. I chatted with him for a bit, and after finding out this wasn’t my first trip here, he asked for some advice. To anybody considering taking on a race like this, here was my advice to him. Go as slow as you comfortably can and establish checkpoints around the course. Both serve as a way to keep you on course. It’s easy to go out too fast and end up bonking much earlier than you had planned, but going too slow also forces you to run in an unnatural way, which can take its toll as well. Go slow, but be comfortable. Find the middle ground. The second ensures that you are maintaining pace. Establishing mental checkpoints, 19 minutes to the halfway point or 50 minutes to the bridge, for example, ensures that you run each loop consistently. They can also help you plan if you need to run a fast loop because you need a little extra time between loops to change clothes, take a short nap, or do anything else that requires more time.

Then, I came across another runner from my area. Ben and I followed each other on Strava for a little while and exchanged a couple of messages before coming out to the race. We got to learn about each other, and he asked about Bigger Than The Trail, one of my favorite topics on the trail. If you are reading this, I will assume that you know about Bigger Than The Trail, so I won’t go into detail. But if Bigger Than The Trail is new to you, check them out here.

About mid-day, I fell in pace with Chad. Chad works with Emma at one of the running stores in my city. He had a few of their mutual friends and coworkers there crewing him. Then I met Greg. “Hey, you don’t know me, so this might sound weird, but I know you!” I turned as Greg explained, “I’m a cop in Appleton, and I work one of the Saturday morning shifts.” He then told me that one of his favorite radar spots is along one of the routes I commonly use for long runs. I laughed because I knew exactly which spot he was referring to. I had noticed a cop car sitting there often during my runs, but I never considered that the guy behind the wheel might also notice me. It’s funny to drive halfway across the state to get to know some of the runners in my community. The miles and loops clicked by during the day as my mind was busy reconnecting with existing friends and connecting with new ones. That feeling of Groundhog Day that I had in 2022 was alive and present today, too, as nothing really served to distinguish one loop from the rest.

Night Runs

As the day passed, the field of runners gradually shrunk. At 6 hours, roughly 1/3 of the field was gone, and by 12 hours, we had about 1/2 of the runners still going. Dusk was turning to night, and this is where the real race starts. At this point, most of us are beginning to have a little bit of mental and/or physical fatigue set in. The dark is also harder to navigate even with the best headlamp, so the more technical sections of the course take a little bit longer, shortening the time between loops to reset. That being said, the night is quiet and peaceful. The park is set away from the city, far enough that the stars are clearly visible, and you can’t help but stop and take them in.

Despite the peacefulness, the night loops are a grind. The night loops eventually led to my dropout in 2022. It’s harder to fight the mental demons in the dark than it is during the day. There’s an adage in ultrarunning, just make it to morning. Everybody who has been there knows that dawn on the second day is a huge mental boost. I knew this. My only goal right then was to make it through the loop. Then, my goal was to start the next loop. And repeat. I had some mental low points during the night, but overall, I was faring better than I had at other races. The lack of hallucinations gave me confidence that I was doing pretty well.

I had no capacity to think, though. I had been zoned out most of the day. Whenever I completed a loop, I would enter camp to Emma asking what I needed. “I don’t know,” was my response almost every time. It took me a minute to sit down and think before I could communicate what I needed. This was more true at night. I had no idea what I needed and was slow to figure it out.

My big issue at night, though, was physical. I was starting to get blisters. I had changed socks a few times, but the trail was wet and kept my feet from getting the chance to dry out. The short time between loops meant I didn’t have time to actually address the blisters. The best I could do was try to keep them from worsening. I tossed around the idea of quitting after 75 miles. I knew I wouldn’t, but it was an appealing thought. Just finish the loop. Then you can get off your feet for a minute. If you can’t stand up after that, you can quit, but if you can, you can start the next loop. Then I told myself I could quit after 83 miles. That would let me beat my 2022 distance. I bargained with myself multiple times as the footfalls became more and more painful. I knew I wouldn’t quit, but I needed something to get me to take the next step. Quitting was the carrot I dangled out to get me through the loop. Then I would pull it away and say, “Nope, sorry, one more.” I’m not ashamed to admit that I spent some time wallowing in self-pity, but I didn’t let it win.

There’s not much talking during the night loops. When I felt okay, the guy right next to me was feeling like hell and walking through the pain cave. I can tell he doesn’t want to chat much. When he feels okay, I’m mentally a thousand miles away because it’s my turn in the pain cave. Most of the time, I would run next to somebody in complete silence. It doesn’t seem like much, but having a physical presence can help. By the middle of the night, there were 13 of us left.

I wondered what had kept each of us going. Nobody pursues this much self-inflicted pain unless they have a reason to keep moving forward. I could see the pain on the faces of the other runners, but I could also see the determination in their eyes. That’s contagious. While we each have wildly different “whys,” watching them fight for theirs inspires me to fight for mine.

Sunrise

The sun came up and twelve of us remained. We took the formation of more or less one pack for most of the loop. Whether we acknowledged it or not, we were each taking our turn leading the pack and sharing the burden. While we each wanted to beat the guy next to us, races like this don’t reach their full potential unless runners work together. The proverb, “If you want to go fast, go alone, if you want to go far, go together” rings true at these events.

It was obvious to me that there was a buzz back at the start/finish line. Since the start of the race in 2021, only 11 runners had hit or passed the 100-mile mark. This year alone it was looking like there would be 12. Of that 12 at least half of us were returning to the race. Despite all this, I was miserable. It seemed like the sunrise had brought that mental reprieve to everybody but me. I know this probably isn’t true, but it felt true in the moment. In all realms I was doing okay, I was far from good, but I was moving forward, still at a relatively consistent pace. But my blisters had gotten much worse. Every wrong step sent pain through my foot, it felt like I was walking on shards of glass. That pain was becoming increasingly hard to tolerate.

Getting ready for loop 23, I changed my socks again. I fully expected to peel my socks off and find blood running down my feet. What I found was not quite that bad, but after half a peek at what was going on, I decided it was best not to look and just put new socks on as quickly as I could. At this point, I knew two things. I was making it to 100 miles, and I was not making it any further. Loops 23 and 24 were hell, but all 12 of us lasted. We had officially hit the 100-mile mark. Upon reaching the start/finish to complete loop 24, 5 of us dropped leaving 7 of the original 74 to keep going. Finishing every race is an emotional moment for me. As soon as I rang the bell to signalize I was done, tears streamed down my face. It was a mixture of pride, disappointment, exhaustion, and adrenaline dump. There’s really no feeling quite like it.

Post Race

Upon dropping, I knew I needed to take care of my feet. I sent Emma to try and find a med kit, and she returned with a med kit and Ellen. This is just another example of how incredible this race is. Ellen is one of the race directors and works in the medical field. She immediately went to work fixing my feet. I had heard stories from other runners that she also taped up their ankles or otherwise helped patch them up at different points during the race. These race directors genuinely care about their runners and their community. They’re willing to add to their already hectic job to go the extra mile.

I had yet to actually get a good look at my feet, but I knew from the slightly horrified look on the faces of the people around me when my shoes and socks came off that it wasn’t good. Emma grabbed some photos and showed me two decent-sized blood blisters on the bottom of my feet and another small one on the heel. No wonder it felt like I was walking on glass.

After getting my feet fixed up, I hung out in the chair under some blankets. I warmed up and had some food brought to me while I chatted with Taylor and Adam, two runners who made the trek from Colorado and had also just completed their races at 100 miles. I hung around the race for a little bit before deciding it was time to pack up and get home. Emma and I packed up camp and thanked the race directors and volunteers. I told them that I would be back to get my 125 miles. I also took time to congratulate some of the other runners. Eventually, Mark would go on to win, logging 141.7 miles, and Wyatt would finish with the assist.

In Reflection

While I didn’t make it to the 125-mile goal I had set for myself, I am damn proud of my effort. I ran my fastest 100-miler to date. I suffered through hours on jacked-up feet. I walked through the pain cave multiple times. While I didn’t make it this time, I am convinced I can go 125 miles in me, and why should I stop there? I ended my WausaUltra 2022 race report by stating, “Your goals are bull shit if you reach them easily.” That rings more true now than it did then. As I continue to push myself, I get closer to finding the limits of my ability. Attaining each new goal requires much more effort than the previous one. But once again, I am left thinking I can do more.

I’ll be honest, though; my running goals have taken on a different place in my life. They aren’t as big and scary as they used to be. Will reaching 125 miles be easy? No, but I’m sure I can do it. What I’ve been searching for lately, though, is a goal that I don’t know if I can complete. I need something that scares me a little bit. Running will always be my passion and the thing I love most, but I need to explore something new mentally and physically. This is not me stepping away from Ultra. I’m still eyeing up what 100 miler’s I’m running in 2025 and 2026, but it is me publicly stating that I’m going to do something that scares the hell out of me… OTILLO Mackinac Island, let’s make a date for 2025.

Proud Member of:

Bigger Than The Trail

Ornery Mule Trail Team

Green Bay Multisport

Shoes: Altra – Lone Peak 7

Wearables: Garmin - Forerunner 955, Oura Ring

Nutrition: ATH, Epic Provisions, Clif Bar, Honey Stinger, Huel, Maple Syrup, Apple Sauce

Recovery: ATH, FitAid, Freeze Sleeves