Ron Sequitur

Aug 2012

Aug 29

Marquette 50 Mile – Roots, Rain and Spiderman

Aug 3

Ron Sequitur

Ron
The miles pass by, and the trail passes under. Surely as not, the mind starts to wander... Here are a few jottings for you to read. Stick with 'em, they eventually get around to running… most of the time.

August 29, 2012: Marquette 50 Mile – Roots, Rain and Spiderman

Heading over to the Marquette 50 Mile over in the U.P. was a trip back to the old country. You see, my mother had grown up in the little railroad town of Champion just down MI Hwy 28 to the west, and my father had graduated from the since-retired Park High School in Marquette. So, I am one generation removed from Yoopers on both sides of my family, which perhaps explains a lot. Most all of the relatives I visited in my youth have long since passed on, and its been awhile since I made my way through the area - but even decades removed, certain sights still seemed to pull memories off the dusty shelves in the back.

Even so, the ghosts would have to wait, as there was a task at hand. This was my first go at this race, and I was looking forward to running a new course. This is part of the reason I enjoy running these events; to see new places (or perhaps revisit old), albeit at a decent rate of speed – call it accelerated trail spelunking. Of course, another part of the motivation equation kicks in on race morning and I find myself trying to pick out my competition at the starting line - all the 40-ish looking gentlemen wearing race numbers. (Let's see. Him. Him. Maybe that guy. That one's bald, so probably him. No wait, looks like he shaved his head. Never mind...) I'm certainly not in danger of pulling many muscles hauling hardware home from races on most days, but, hey... dare to dream.

Launch. We left the Marquette Tourist Park, took a short loop around the neighborhood, then hit the dirt. After a mile or so on a forest road the route dropped onto the single-track of the North Country Trail, which in this area offers up some rocky, rooty goodness akin to the Superior Hiking Trail. In short, it felt like home. I felt loose and relaxed (who doesn't at mile 3?), but it was early – so I settled in to a comfortable pace and put it on cruise control.

After rocking and rolling up and down for 10 miles we hit the first major climb, Sugarloaf Mountain. It dawned on me that “Sugarloaf” seemed to be a very popular name for mountains, as I believe every state in the union has one. (Yup, even Florida.) Perhaps it was a requirement for statehood. But, I digress. When I hit the base of the climb, I was greeted by a set of steps that led from bottom to top. I thought, “Why, this is darn well civilized.” But to be fair, it was a @#$%-load of steps. So, up we go – nice and steady, no need to be a hero here, as there will be bigger fish to fry. The descent down other side was much more thrilling; a thin single-track wound along a nice, steep downhill grade between granite boulders with a solid pitch. This seemed to go on for a good while before it ejected out onto the dirt, sand and pine needle trail that hugs the Lake Superior shoreline.

Now, this (~4 mi.) section was very runnable and quite beautiful. Though it skirted the sandy beach, it was hard packed and made for a fantastic running surface. Just to the right, the waves of the Lake rolled in rhythmically – and I fought the urge to take one of the access trails and run head-long into the surf. Which would have been invigorating, to say the least. The trail eventually turned inland, passed through an aid station and worked it's way up and over a significant hunk of granite known locally as Bareback, which provided a warm-up for what was to come.

At about the 20 mile mark, one gets to tackle a topographic double play. The first piece, Top of the World, is a steady, challenging climb, starting as packed trail, but eventually scrambling up sheets of rock to a summit providing a fantastic view. But that's just the opening act. In my estimation the next climb, Hogback Mountain, is the gem of the course. The wonderfully steep rise starts with a solid stock of head-sized boulders, with a dash of twisted roots thrown in for flavor. It then ratchets up the grade and starts scaling large granite boulders. I recall arriving at a trail junction of sorts - to my right led a rocky but manageable trail that I assume made its way to the peak. To my left was, well, not so much a trail – more of a suggestion of a trail, that only Sir Edmund Hillary would love. I'll give you one guess which one had the fluorescent trail markers. I suppose it's a mark of a course well laid when you can be smiling and swearing at the bastard who set the damn thing up at the same time.

After the steep descent from Hogback I rolled into Aid Station 1 (2nd time through). Here is where the 50 milers part ways with the 50K runners. The latter head straight, hopping and skipping their way back to the start / finish, where they'll have a beer in hand in short order. I, on the other hand, turned around and headed back out for the second loop. Midway between AS1 and AS2, I had one of those “Oh, @#$%!” moments. “Hmmm, Ron? When was the last time you saw a trail marker?” “Uh, not sure.” “Does this trail look familiar?” “Not really.” “Perhaps time to turn around?” “Maybe I'll just go a little further, to be sure. Who the Hell is talking to me anyway?” “The voice of reason, dumbass, go back and find a trail marker.” OK, lost some time there, and apparently a bit of my sanity. (Shut up, ya' rubes.) But I was soon back on the proper trail and heading toward Sugarloaf for a second time.

The second lap seemed to pass quickly, which was a sign that things were going well. I had been eating and drinking consistently and maintaining what felt like a steady, solid pace. Sugarloaf and its stairway to heaven was a workout, and the legs ran nicely along the beach stretch. Bareback was slippery due to some recent rain (more on that in a bit). At one of the aid stations, a volunteer let me know I was running 6th. Not bad, I thought. There was no pass over Top of the World or Hogback on the second loop, the omission of which was bittersweet. Though, admittedly, 42 miles in, the sweet tends to trump the bitter.

The rain had started spitting here and there back along the beach. Nice. A quick spritz to cool off would be great, I had thought. About 7 miles from the finish it got more insistent. Thunder clapped, lightning flashed not too distant, and steady drops started falling. Alright, a little shower never hurt either. Then the rain got downright pushy, and started coming down in buckets. I swear the woodland critters were starting to pair up and Google Map driving directions to Mt. Ararat. The trail soon became a series of large, deep puddles connected by patches of mud and rock.

And... I felt fantastic! My legs were cool and invigorated. I passed through Aid Station 1 (again) on a tear – looking like a big, wet dog, I'm sure, but splashing my way along the homestretch and loving every minute of it. In the end, 10 hours, 33 minutes - I held in 6th place overall – but 1st in my age group, which garnered me a nice jar of U.P.-made Poor Rock Abbey Black Berry Jam. Mmmm.

A little while later, I was headed back west toward Duluth - but I stopped for a moment alongside Hwy 28 just outside Champion, MI. The little house still stood, looking sturdy – just as it did when my grandfather built it. A vision flashed of my grandfather pulling out the stack of comic books he had squirreled away for us kids to read during our visits. On the one hand, I imagine it kept us quiet, but I suspect he also got some satisfaction in our unabashed delight in getting a solid dose of Archie and Spiderman.

I wondered what it would be like to go and take a look inside. But it was someone else's home now, and had been for quite some time. So, I passed – choosing instead to just take on a few delightful memories at one of life's aid stations. And with that, I put the car in gear and pointed it toward home.

Comments (4)

August 3, 2012: Mowing the Seeds of my Discontent

It starts when you are young, of course. Those moments of foolishness when you really should have known better.

"Are you suuure you can make it over that?"
"Oh, yeah. I just need a higher ramp and a good bit of speed..."

As we grow older we’re supposed to mature, but the foolhardiness seems to linger like redneck relatives over for Christmas. Eventually, the daredevil nature of things may start to wane; which is good, because I'd rather not have my legacy be my own chapter in the next edition of the Darwin Awards. But the stupid gene, which I'm pretty sure is Y-linked - it's a pesky bugger, and needs to be stoked every now and then.

I guess that's how I found myself standing alone half-way up the first hill of the Powerlines on the Voyageur course, smelling of sweat and bug spray under the 90+ degree late afternoon sun, wondering what in the Hell I was doing...

July 5th, and the day had started innocently enough. With a day off and the 1/2 Voyageur and Voyageur 50 Mile fast approaching, I had decided to get a jump start on mowing the Powerlines. So, I set off - looking to park at the Mission Creek trailhead on Beck's Rd., a short ways from the Powerlines access trail.

From the experience that followed, I learned the following:

Construction work on Beck’s road did, in fact, occur on weekdays. (Who knew?) Large trucks and bulldozers make the Mission Creek trailhead difficult to get to. Damn. Off to park at the Buffalo House, an eating establishment up the Munger trail in the other direction.
It’s a long walk in on the Munger trail from the Buffalo House to the access trail that leads to the Powerlines. (Let's call that access trail the AH, which may or may not be the initials of its creator – depending on whether you are asking me while I'm under oath.)
My 4-cycle string trimmer is a piece of @#$%. It fails about 20 minutes into some simple trimming along the AH trail. The Mowing Gods have a peculiar sense of humor. (Yes, there are Mowing Gods. I think they're Greek. They had a god for everything.)
It’s a long walk back to the Buffalo House when you’re in a bad mood.
It apparently doesn’t take much for me to switch from casual mowing mode to “I'm on a Mission.”
There’s a fine line between badass and dumbass. You make the call. While pondering my fate over a Dairy Queen hot dog, I decide to go get my push mower and bring it in to the Powerlines.
It's not unreasonable getting a push mower in to the Powerlines from Hwy 210 in Jay Cooke State Park. But... Hwy 210 looks like the Grand Canyon after being decimated by the Great Flood of 2012. My only access is the rocky, rooty, single track of the AH trail. But I’m game. So, back to the Buffalo House, and off down the Munger...
The long walk from the Buffalo House to the AH trail is decidedly shorter when two DNR guys on ATVs come along and let you know you can’t be on the (closed) Munger Trail and have to turn around. (Oh? This trail is closed? You don't say...)
It’s a long walk back to the Buffalo House when you’re in a bad mood.
I am bound and determined to cut some damn thing today. Poking around back by Beck's Rd., lawn mower sticking out of the trunk of my car, I realize folks are using the abandoned DWP railroad grade to drive around the construction area and get down near the Mission Creek trailhead. Bingo.
One probably looks kind of foolish taking his mower out for a walk through a construction zone on Beck’s Rd. and down the Mission Creek trail.
One has boundless energy when he thinks he has scored a strategic victory – making bringing a mower down the hilly goat path that is the AH trail almost tolerable. (But, would it kill 'em to put bigger wheels on these things?)
Hmm. Didn't know mountain goats were native to northern Minnesota.
@#$% it's hot out here.
Mental Note #1: Streams are rocky.
Mental Note #2: Mowers are heavy.
Mental Note #3: That stream crossing before the big hill on the Powerlines sure is wide.
@#$% it's hot out here.
I note that a mower is vastly more productive than a string trimmer, under a certain set of conditions which tend to be pretty well defined. Those conditions are somewhat intermittent on the Powerlines.
I note that a mower is decidedly more difficult to get up that first big hill after the river crossing than a string trimmer. Gravity is a harsh mistress.
Boots make an interesting sucking sound when pulled from near knee deep mud. (Holy s--t! How can the base this hill still be such a friggin' mess?! It's like a damn kiln out here!)
Common sense will finally prevail half-way up a ridiculously steep, mud covered hill on a @#$%ing hot day, while largely carrying a piece of power equipment that is designed to be pushed...

At that point, hours into this Three Stooges misadventure, out of time, energy and water, I finally had a come to Jesus moment and decided that the mowing Trials of Job were over. But there were still a couple lessons to be learned:

Common sense will not carry a mower back up the AH trail for you.
One has much less energy on the return trip dragging a mower and a gas can back up the AH trail.
Stubbornness and sanity are inversely proportional.

A few days later, I returned to the scene of the crime, armed with a brand new, professional-grade Stihl trimmer that would make Tim “The Toolman” Taylor proud. Accompanied by colleagues Leslie Semler and Rudi O'Brien, we polished off a fine looking ribbon of trail from one end of the Powerlines to the other (and then some).

So, mission accomplished. And, I'm certain there will be no more moments of foolhardiness in my future. Absolutely certain...

"Are you suuure you want to run 100 miles?"
"Oh, yeah. I just need a bit of water and a couple of gels..."

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May 23, 2012: Featured Trail: NMTC Bull Run

Heading into the Bull Run, I was reminded of the Tour de France cycling race, where the first set of stages feature flat fast routes that tend to cater to the sprinters. It’s interesting, but the rubber really meets the road as those skinny wheelers head into the Pyrenees, and the men are separated from the boys. Likewise, after a couple weeks of gentle topography in the early NMTC series races, the Bull Run steps into the breach as the first real hill-raiser.

The route takes in some really nice miles out on the far reaches of Jay Cooke State Park, providing a workout over less-traveled trail sections well away from the swinging bridge area. Not many lap dogs on leashes out here. As the NMTC runs it, the course forms a lollipop utilizing the Spruce, Upper Lake and Lower Lake trails.

Where the run got its name is perhaps a story some of the NMTC old-timers can tell. Though I suspect the hyperbolic yarn they drift off into may give you a clue as to where the name really comes from... Some also like to call this the Tick Run, a fair title given the population of those little critters that just might wish to tag along.


This one…	Not this one.

Perhaps the trickiest part of using this route is simply getting to the starting point - it can be a little obscure if you're not familiar with the area. But, stick with me. I'll get you there.

How to get there: From Duluth take Hwy 23 (Grand Ave.) west off I-35. You’ll stay on Hwy 23 the whole way, continuing past the zoo, Morgan Park, Gary-New Duluth and on toward Fond du Lac. As you pass through Fond du Lac, stop gabbing on your iPhone and pay attention, you're getting close.

Hwy 23 veers left out of Fond du Lac and crosses the St. Louis River. Check your odometer as you cross the bridge. From there, it is almost exactly 2 miles to where you want to park. Watch on the right hand side for a small pull off, with a wood post / wire fence, where the powerlines cross the road. [Picture] Park here, or up the road a short distance at the scenic overlook. Go through the fence and follow the trail up the hill to the powerlines. Welcome to the Bull Run. It’s time to get your money out of that heart rate monitor.

The Route: This 4.2 mile run begins by following the powerlines for about 1000 ft. Watch on the left for a well-established trail that turns into the woods. This is the (Jay Cooke SP) Spruce Trail, which crosses the powerline clearing.

Once on the Jay Cooke Trails you can use the trail junctions as points of reference, as each is labeled with a number and usually has a map. So, while the following description may sound a bit complicated, if you keep in mind you are just making a large loop out of the Upper and Lower Lake trails and returning on the Spruce Trail to the powerlines, it’s pretty straight-forward. [Jay Cooke Trail Map]

The Spruce Trail offers some solid, rolling terrain to warm up the legs and get the blood pumping. About a mile into the run you'll hit trail junction 47A. Turn left, taking the Upper Lake Trail. The next mile or so is predominantly downhill, but with some ups to keep you honest. Definitely enjoy the views while you're up there, and the nice descent that follows as a reward.

Stay left at junction 48, the Lower Lake Trail, and follow this for about 0.75 miles as it loops around. (Note that at junction 45, you'll need to turn hard right to stay on the Lower Lake Trail.) Overall, this is a real cruising section. Relatively flat and meandering through hardwoods and pine, it eventually sidles up to the St. Louis River. Relax, enjoy, find a happy place. It’s almost time to pay the piper...

At junction 46 stay left, returning to the Upper Lake Trail, and shift into hill climbing gear. The trail is going to go up, then up a bit more, then... you get the picture. Remember all that descent a little bit ago? Well, you do need to get back to your car, and it's now up there. So, off you go. Don't spend all that ATP in one place.

Toward the end of the hill climbs, go straight through junction 47A and 47B, up that last devilish grade. You're now on the Spruce Trail again, heading back along the stick of the route lollipop. Follow the winding trail back, turn right at the powerlines and soon you’re back at the start after a nice, scenic workout. Enjoy!

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May 7, 2012: Featured Trail: NMTC Point Pine Run

I know, doing a quick feature on an NMTC trail route is maybe a little more useful before the race. You know, so you can read up a bit, evaluate the course – maybe put together that winning race strategy. But, hey, who am I to take all the mystery out of it? Trust me, you'll appreciate the bliss of ignorance in a couple of weeks.

Now, I know many of you are old hands at the trails of the Duluth area, maybe you're also grizzled old NMTC veterans that are well versed on the trails we pull out of the quiver for the Wednesday night races. But, I trust there are some folks who are new to the series or the area that might appreciate the low-down on the trails. So, say you were too busy trying to keep your lungs from exploding last week during the race to fully appreciate your surroundings, or maybe you didn't make it out but are looking for an interesting place to try out your new trail kicks. Well, here we go...

NMTC runs tend to take on titles that reflect the personality of their course. So, while this route heads out to the end of what's commonly called Park Point, it was aptly named the NMTC Point Pine Run - as the title encompasses two important aspects of the surroundings.

First, the course follows Minnesota Point. So, we have the “Point” part covered, but let me throw this out there as well. Combined with Wisconsin Point, this stretch comprises the largest freshwater sandbar in the world. No kidding. Now that's a nice conversation starter at a party. The “Pine” aspect honors the fact that much of the run flows through old-growth White and Red Pine, some of which is over 200 years old.

The route follows the well-established Minnesota Point (Park Point) Hiking Trail, 2 miles out and 2 miles back. And I hear ya', you trail runners want an elevation profile. So, here you go:

OK, I kid. But not much. Not a lot of up and down here – 60 ft. of calf-crushing gain and loss over 4 miles, about a foot at a time. But, don't worry, the trail will throw in a little sandy surprise to make up for the lack of grade.

Along the way you'll note a couple interesting structures. Almost at the end stand the ruins of the Minnesota Point Lighthouse, constructed in 1858. It operated for 20 years under a single keeper before being abandoned in 1878. Nearby is the old U.S. Lighthouse Station Depot, a concrete structure that once was used to store buoys and the acetylene used in batteries for the lighthouse back in Canal Park.

And, of course, the trail's most distinguishing feature lies just north. I hear there's a big lake there...

So, enjoy the run, whether you're racing or not. Some nice flow, a bit of sand to keep you honest, and beautiful Lake Superior for the cool down.

How to get there: Cross the Aerial Lift Bridge and follow Minnesota Avenue until you run out of road (at the airport). A sign and opening in the chain link fence to the left indicates the start of the Minnesota Point Hiking Trail. The trail may split here and there, but eventually comes back in on itself. You can't really go wrong if you keep heading toward the point.

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April 18, 2012: The 29 Seconds of Zumbro

The Occupy Zumbro encampment was already well established by the time I rolled into the river bottoms on Friday. Despite my leaving work early to drive down in late-afternoon, it appeared my humble abode would be relegated to the tent suburbs. As I popped my shock-corded poles into place, I looked up at the hills. Somewhere out there, diligent runners were making their way along the ridges and coulees like a parade of ants on a sugar trail. They had been going since 8 AM that morning, seeking the 100 Miler belt buckle.

I had come down to southeast MN for the Zumbro Midnight 50 Miler, so had a few hours to kill before I'd get to set off. The plan was to take a nap and wake up an hour or so before the start to gear up. Given that I suffer a bit from “broken alarm clock anxiety” before any race, the sleep was fit-full at best. So, I had to be content with applying the Chuck Norris philosophy of “the body sleeps, but not the mind”. Hey, it worked for him in the movie the Octagon when those night-stalking Ninjas attacked. (Don't you dare question the wisdom of the baddest man alive. He'll beat your...) But, I digress.

It had been nearly 6 months since Wild Duluth, and I was jonesin' for some mileage - which perhaps explained the facial tics. So, by the time the start rolled around I was pining to go. Race Director John Storkamp kept the formalities brief and on his command we all took off. As Friday turned into Saturday, we disappeared into the darkness.

Running at night on trails is a double edged sword. Even with decent lights one can only see so far down the trail. On the plus side, because you can't see the scope of what you are doing, you are undaunted by the mini-Everest the trail is currently ascending. You just put your head down and keep motoring, figuring it will end at some point - hopefully before you get a nose bleed. On the other hand, you know there is some fine scenery out there as you run the ridgeline. But there you are, running in a little Gerbil Ball of light saying, “Wow. Another head-sized chunk of limestone on the trail. Haven't seen many of those tonight.” But, there are treats to be had - like when a critter came swooping from over my shoulder and down onto the trail in front of me, skittering away into the woods. Flying squirrel. Good evening, Rocky.

Things moved along well. I began to pass the 100 milers, getting the opportunity to check in on some friends' progress. Wayne, Rick, Arika, many others - all doing well. First lap done, on to the second – during which the sun finally started coming up. And the views were indeed spectacular. Pace still felt decent. Too many gels had my stomach in a loop for a bit, so I looked to more solids. Fortunately, there were plenty of aid stations, allowing one to run from buffet to buffet. Second lap done, on to the third.

Somewhere over on the other side of the hills drama was unfolding as the 100 Miler race leaders approached the finish line. After leading a good portion of the race, Bob Gerenz suddenly found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Matt Aro as they neared the end of the race. Still side-by-side, they entered the open field 1000 feet from the finish line. After 100 miles of racing, it would come down to a flat out sprint. In the end, Bob held off Matt... by 2 seconds.

Back on calmer parts of the trail, I had been cruising along for quite a while. After pushing what felt like a pretty solid pace, somewhere between the 40-45 mile mark I finally started feeling the miles. I muscled the last 5 or so miles in, arriving at the finish in 11 hours, 33 minutes - for 12th place overall. Can't complain. I was tired for certain, but it felt pretty reasonable overall, especially considering it was an early season race.

After my race was done I took a little nap, then went back to the finish line to watch the rest of the 100 milers come in. One by one they emerged from the woods, making their way across the field to the finish line. The clock ticked - the 34 hour hard cut-off fast drawing near. As the numbers clicked past 33 and a half hours, I and my colleagues waited. 20 minutes left. 10 minutes left. Single digits... With just a few minutes left, a runner emerged from the woods – followed shortly by a second. The crowd started yelling, spurring them on. Time was short! They could make it, but they would have to sprint! And so they did.

With just over a minute left, my good friend Rick Bothwell crossed the finish line. He bent over, hands on knees to catch his breath, relieved he'd get to sign the finisher's banner today. Meanwhile, the other runner dug deep, pushing hard. And after the seemingly endless miles of hills, rain, lightning, sun, mud, sand – using up whatever energy was left - Anjanette Arnold finished her first 100 miler, with only 27 seconds to spare.

I've had my ups and downs in these long races. At some point in every one it seems, there comes a moment when I wonder, “Why the Hell do I do this to myself?” Then, I remember... It's about running alone silently at 2 AM. It's about the comedy of sliding down a muddy hillside on your... It's about seeing a friend get hugs from her kids at the finish line. It's about the Beastie Boys cranking on the radio at an aid station. It's about flying squirrels. It's about cheering for friends and racing against others. It's about seeing tears dripping over a smile. It's about PB & J on a tortilla shell. It's about falling down, and getting back up.

And it's about the fact that 27 seconds at the back is just as important as 2 seconds at the front.

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Aug 2012

Archive

Ron Sequitur

August 29, 2012: Marquette 50 Mile – Roots, Rain and Spiderman

August 3, 2012: Mowing the Seeds of my Discontent

May 23, 2012: Featured Trail: NMTC Bull Run

May 7, 2012: Featured Trail: NMTC Point Pine Run

April 18, 2012: The 29 Seconds of Zumbro