Subject: Superior Trail 100 Pacer's Report From: Jeff Wold Date: Thu, 12 Sep 2002 23:03:05 -0500 * Prologue I left you last at the finish line of the Kettle Moraine 100 mile run on June 2. Bob Metzger had just completed his first 100 miler and I was privileged to pace him over the last 38 miles. That was the furthest I had ran since 1997, although I have completed several road and trail marathons and 50K trail runs since. I'm not sure I can adequately describe the feeling of being a part of Bob's accomplishment. But I was sure I'd be doing it again. The chance came sooner than expected when Bob publicly announced his intention to run the Superior Trail 100. I've participated in the 50 mile version 4 times and the thought of navigating 100 miles, some of it at night, gave me the chills. Bob and I have ran a few thousand trail miles together and I knew he needed me so there was never a doubt that I'd be there, and that I'd be ready. * Pacer Central: Sawbill aid station (54.8 miles) at 10:25 PM I'm ready to go. It's damn hot, maybe 75 or 80 degrees on an early September night and the hot day had taken it's toll on many accomplished (and respected) runners but Bob was still out there. In fact due any minute. One last trip to the portajohn and I strapped on my camelbak with it's 100 ounce bladder and assorted supplies including a dozen balance bars, lube, blister kit, spare batteries, and my hat and sunglasses for the next day buried in there somewhere. Bob's wife Chris was going to crew us in, and was nervously walking back and forth between the ham radio tent and the food table. Bob appears, claiming to have wrestled a moose just up the trail and saving us all from certain doom. * 25 OUT! It was good to be on the SHT (Superior Hiking Trail) again. This place is the most amazingly rugged and beautiful place I've ever seen. The trail starts near Duluth and travels northeastward 250 miles along the north shore of Lake Superior. At times it's near the lake, other times it's a few miles inland on the other side of the high ridges of the Sawtooth Mountains. Usually it is either up to a panoramic ridge or down to a tumbling river. Sometimes it's along a ridgeline, down one side of a river or up the other side. Always it is rocky, full of tree roots, or both. There are a few runable sections and I'm grateful to be able to leg it out a bit. This night it's pitch dark, there is no moon at all and within minutes I have a pretty good sweat going. I normally travel 10 or 15 feet ahead of Bob, far enough to prevent getting ran over if I fall down but close enough to carry on a conversation. This first section of trail is actually fairly tame but Bob isn't moving too quickly. I'm at a normal walk speed, and still I wait for him to keep up. * Did you see that? Only 30 minutes on the trail and I've walked a few extra yards down the trail as Bob has stopped to "take care of his needs". I turn off my headlamp and look skyward at a few splotches of the northern lights. As I turn my headlamp back on and look ahead down the trail, there are a pair of eyes glowing back at me! They are 75 or 80 feet away, and I'd guess the eyes are 4 inches apart. I shiver in spite of the sweat rolling down my face as one eye disappears, then both appear again. This goes on for a minute or two and then he's gone. Bear or wolf? Only 45 minutes or so later we break into a clearing near a small lake and the whole sky is visible to us. Aurora Borealis is in all it's glory - spreading 2/3 across the sky from the northern horizon, fanning over our heads and to the south. Whole sections seem to shimmer and roll, changing from light green to dark, then blue. We spend what seemed like 5 or more minutes taking in this fabulous sight, I felt so insignificant in the world in in awe of God and Mother Nature. * Patience We traveled the first 6.3 miles in 2.5 hours. Translated that means Bob isn't moving too fast but we are holding our own against the cutoff, about 90 minutes of cushion. I'm barely moving yet I still stop and wait for my runner at nearly every turn. He's not complaining at all but I know that this is a very critical point in the race for him. I offer encouragement, let him know that we are doing OK against the cutoffs, he's drinking and more importantly peeing regularly. We continue to nibble on goodies from our camelbaks and find a few things to talk about to pass the night. We make it up and over Moose Mountain, along some ridges then down to a river crossing and back up the other side. Repeat until weary. * Daybreak Finally the sky lightens, and I'm able to make out individual tree trunks, rocks, the occasional horizon. Bob turns his light out first but I'm thinking it's a bit early and at around 6:00 mine is out too. Our pace picks up with renewed energy and Bob is talkative again, a good sign. We've made it through the night intact which is a very good thing! Bob mentions hallucinations and I get him to elaborate. At first I feel like he might think I'm making fun of him as he somewhat hesitates, but then I get informed that I have little critters and human forms (head and shoulders only) scurrying ahead of me on the trail. Bob always has all the fun. * Lake Agnes The sun is now up and it's a beautiful morning in the Sawtooth range. We break out of the forest to the shores of Lake Agnes, a prettier place I can't imagine. We spend the next mile or two running easy along it's northern shore and finally leave it behind. We are moving well and I'm confident about a finish. Keep doing what we are doing and there's no problem, right? * &!@$#%^*(#@!!! 90 minutes out of the previous aid station and probably 77 miles from the start line, the next aid station is about a mile away but unmanned - just a jug of water from what we've been told. We are in great shape, running a very pretty ridge when WHAM, WHAM!!! Yellowjackets! I'm screaming and sprinting down the trail, Bob right on my heels. Last year during the 50 miler I was forced to drop after being stung 5 times. I do a quick inventory and I'm only bit twice, low on the right quad and low on the left calf just above the gaiter. Bob reports two stings on his left arm and ask if I'm OK. I say I think so but I'll know more later. Bob thinks he'll be fine. Within a few minutes I can sense my throat tightening up and my chest constricting. I recall my favorite uncle Joe who died from an allergic reaction to bee stings but somehow I manage to not panic. Just slow down, keep breathing, keep breathing and don't panic. I'm really scared but keep moving as it would do no good to stop because we are 5 miles from the next aid station. It gets a little worse and my heart starts to race a bit so I slow down a little more. Bob asks if I'm OK and I tell him I'm not breathing well and just need to take it easy for a bit. We keep moving a couple of miles and at a river crossing we decide that Bob is going to go on ahead because it doesn't seem to be getting any easier for me. I'm thinking that with luck, he can continue on with Chris as his pacer and Kathy Weix, who is a nurse and was with Chris at the previous aid station is still with her and can start back up the trail towards me. I keep a brisk walk going and Bob sets on up ahead. I'll admit to some tears at the sight of him disappearing around the first bend in the trail. I think about my family and my friends and how lucky I've been. 45 minutes later I'm starting to finally feel better, and trotting down the trail along the beautiful Cascade River as it tumbles towards Lake Superior, no more than a few minutes out of the next aid station. And there's Bob, running back upriver towards me! He's thinking he's missed some type of turn and he can't find the aid station! I make some kind of comment of him not being able to function without his pacer and lead him in. ;-) At the aid station I'm telling Bob and Chris it would be better if I bailed at this point but the aid station volunteer offers some benadryl, and Chris agrees that it's just the thing to fix me up. So I take what's offered, fill my nearly empty water bladder and lead Bob back up the other side of the Cascade. Ahhhhhh....... * The Cushion starts to narrow The next section of trail is 3.9 miles to an aid station innocently called "County Road 45". How bad could that be? B A D We loose 40 minutes on the nastiest gnarliest steepest rootiest most difficult 4 miles of trail I've ever seen. Some folks can run 10 minutes a mile on tough trail. We LOST 10 minutes a mile! Finally we get to the aid station and there are several friendly faces there. Donna Rae and Larry dropped during the night and were all cleaned up and smiling. Larry has his trail shoes on and a full water bottle and sets out with us to Bally Creek Road 5.7 miles away. We keep a pretty good pace but at 1:45 elapsed from the previous stop, the aid station is nowhere in sight. Bob is not quite keeping up again and our cushion is eroding with every step. I'm getting hungry and Bob must have thought the same thing as we fetch Balance Bars out of our packs for each other. The concern is visible on my face, Larry says as soon as we get out of this stand of pines it's not much further. So we keep going and so do the pines! Finally we pull in, loosing another 20 minutes to the cushion. We now have only 29 minutes left and for the first time I'm worried about making it. * We get some back The second to the last section is only 3.1 miles, and Bob had ran it only 3 weeks before in 49 minutes on very weary legs. Since the pace chart gives us 1:15 to cover we decide to go for it. Bob is munching down his 3rd Balance Bar and I'm on my second as we leave Bally Creek Road to the cheers of the volunteers. We mix in a good amount of running with brisk power walking and as we near the aid station named USFS115 at mile 95.6 I ask Bob what he needs at the next station. We don't want to waste ANY time. We decide that there will be enough water in our camelbaks and Bob thinks some watermelon would be nice. So I run on ahead and there's Chris the wonder crew with Larry's wife Colleen. I order up 4 to go cups with watermelon and magically they produced my request just as Bob runs in. I hand Bob one as he kisses Chris on the way out and off he goes. 25 out. * The long and winding..... This is taking forever! Leaving USFS115 we had 35 minutes on the cutoff, 1:55 to cover 5.2 miles. The trail is now a mostly grass covered former jeep trail and it seems like I'm rolling an ankle with every other step. Frustrating! I'm eager to get back to the single track trail because that means the finish is only a little over 2 miles away. But the minutes keep ticking by. Finally we are back on the trail and heading downhill towards Grand Marais. Larry had driven to the finish area from Bally Creek and was going to run back to meet us, that way we would know how far to the end when we met him. The trail is steep downhill and I'm going as fast as my battered legs and hips will allow. Bob is falling behind again just a bit but I know he is trying as hard as he can. I can hear traffic on what must be the Gunflint Trail, the highway that heads inland from HWY 61 and I know we are getting closer. * The Final Push BOB!!!! It's Larry, standing across the road from us. "you better pick it up, I'm 23 minutes of brisk walking and 8 minutes of running from the finish". I look at my watch and it's 4:23! The 8 minute section is across the face of the mountain above Grand Marais and it's vintage SHT singletrack but we manage to run most of it, but in 11 minutes not 8. Larry tells us that after the right hand turn we have a smooth downhill snowmobile trail all the way to the finish. I make the right turn and kick it in a notch with Bob and Larry right behind . I'm guessing 10 - 11 minute miles which I thought pretty impressive given I'd been moving over 18 hours and Bob for nearly 36! Yet again the minutes tick by. I hear Bob asking Larry something, and Larry says something about finding another gear if we can. Somehow we find not one but two and I'm running downhill as fast as I ever have, Bob right there behind me. Finally we break out of the trees into the clearing around Cook County High School. The Finish Line is less than 400 yards away and we have plenty of time! Bob and I are all smiles and high five's as we make our way around the football field to that double row of orange cones. Having participated in (and even won a couple of) state and national level hockey championships as a youth, I've had some thrills in my life. The steps across the finish line with Bob were right up there. Thanks Bob. Let's do it again. Jeff Wold Mendota Heights, MN