Superior Trail 100 Race Report
September 11-12, 2004
by Daniel Larson

I have to admit that when I was a junior in high school and first heard of
someone attempting to run 100 miles, the idea seemed so absurd that I
couldn't really even imagine it. However, after completing our first
marathon in November of 1998 and gradually building up the miles since
then, the idea of running 100 miles became ever more possible. It is
amazing to me what the human body can grow accustomed to.

The Superior Trail 100 adventure had a dubious beginning. After we'd
registered, we were never able to contact the race directors despite
many attempts. This made us nervous that we might be the only entrants
or the race might be canceled, or that the aid stations and trail
markings would not be up to par. But we received a few hints that it
was still on and confirmation from several other people who had
registered, so we flew to Minnesota anyway, met my parents, and drove
up to Silver Bay, MN for the pre-race meeting on Friday, September 10.

The meeting was a bit haphazard, consisting of a miscellaneous
collection of facts about the course, some of them
contradictory. Fortunately people asked lots of questions, which
helped clarify some issues. Runner: "Is there still that turn by that
one big tree past the hill?" Race Director: "You mean near the stream?
No, now we go by the big rock there, ya know, and turn left through
that one field." (I wish I could type the accent.) After the meeting
ended, my dad commented "Well, that was more or less organized."
Meanwhile, Jenny was standing next to me with steam spurting from her
ears thinking "Less organized... much less." However, we took some
solace in the fact that Pam Reed, several time Badwater winner, was
also participating in this run, which lent it a bit more credibility.

On Saturday morning our pre-race preparations went without a
hitch. Just before the 5am start a light rain began, but it was
pleasant and cool as we started out running in the dark. The first
segment in the dark was a lot more fun than we'd expected, and gave us
confidence for the night running that would come in about 14 hours.

For me, the 100 miles consisted of about 60% pleasure, 30% challenge,
and 10% suffering, roughly corresponding to the 60 daytime miles, 30
night miles, and 10 final miles on Sunday morning. The first 60 miles
during the day were pure enjoyment. The trail was gorgeous and we were
feeling fit and energized.

We got views of wooded hills with patches of red, orange, and yellow
fall color. There were vistas looking out over the big, cool blue
expanse of Lake Superior. We ran past gorgeous gorges, sparkling
streams, and wild waterfalls. We jogged through groves that were so
verdant that the sunlight turned green filtering through the leaves,
making us feel like we were in the Emerald City. There was a maple
grove with so many bright red leaves that it seemed as if the trees
were on fire, a birch grove that recalled Robert Frost's "Birch
Swinging", and several proverbial "Yellow Woods" where, fortunately,
our paths didn't diverge this time around.

Most of the route was along the Superior Hiking Trail (SHT), but we
also did a side loop around Benson Lake that was one of the nicest
parts. The trail was old and under-used... in fact, at one section the
sign said "Trail" with an arrow pointing left, but the pink ribbons
marking our course turned right and plunged into the underbrush. That
was also the section with the canoe. (I hear that not every hundred
has a canoe... that's a pity.) Apparently the day before when Brian
was marking the course he discovered, by falling in head first, that
the bridge over a stream crossing was old and rotten. Without time to
repair the bridge, he rigged up a canoe with one end tied to each
shore. When we got there, all we had to do was pull the canoe to our
side, climb in and wobble to the other end of the canoe, and then pull
it 5 feet to the other shore and climb out. It wasn't a great
challenge, but it added some variety and humor to the run. Altogether
the Benson Lake loop was really pretty; more rugged with more
undergrowth, but with some spectacular views of the surrounding hills.

One great thing about the Superior Hiking Trail is that there are
campsites along the way, and campsites come with latrines. Midway
through the morning Jenny commented that she would need a bathroom
soon, and right there in front of us was a sign on a tree by a side
path that read "Latrine". About an hour later I made a similar
comment, and lo and behold, within 5 minutes we'd encountered another
campsite and its toilet. The accommodations aren't luxurious, just a
seat in the woods with nothing but rocks, hills, and trees for walls,
but we've never been to a race with on-demand port-a-potty service
before.

The SHT is really rugged, full of rock, roots, rocks, roots, more
rocks, more roots, etc. This meant that there was more power walking
compared to other ultra-running events we've tackled. This slowed down
our times, and unfortunately also took its toll on my left
ankle. After about 36 miles my ankle flexor started to get tired, and
by mile 50 it was getting quite sore. I really didn't want to do it,
but I took a couple ibuprofen, because I certainly wasn't going to
drop out at that point. After it got dark our pace slowed, so my sore
ankle didn't cause as much trouble.

Running in the night is pretty difficult on the SHT. We did a little
bit of jogging, when the trail was smooth, but a lot more
power-walking and then plodding as the night wore on and we got more
and more sleepy. The roughly 30 miles in the dark was the "challenge"
of the race. It was a challenge to keep going both physically and
mentally. There wasn't much scenery to keep us going, and our bodies
wanted to sleep, which made finding topics of conversation more
difficult. It was during this time that the blisters on my feet
started popping up. A big one on my right heel and some little ones
between my toes started to make themselves known. Just as the morning
was approaching I managed to stub my right big-toe on a broken branch
while stepping over a fallen tree. I know that ultra-runners like to
wax eloquent about their many injuries, displaying the gruesome
evidence if at all possible. I also know that most listeners are not
so keen on hearing all the gory details, so I will spare you more
description. Suffice it to say that by the time the sun rose and light
started filtering into the forest, Jenny was eager to pick up the
pace, but my feet, with various injuries on all sides, didn't allow me
to speed up at all.

Thus we come to the last 10 miles, corresponding to my 10% of
suffering. Changing shoes helped ease the pain in my swollen feet, but
I still couldn't do more than a brisk walk. So Jenny and I parted
ways, she went on to finish first of the women and third overall, and
I stumbled forward with the goal of finishing under 30 hours, which I
knew I could accomplish if I could keep up a 3 mph pace. I covered the
last few miles in a sort of stupor, my body and mind both exhausted
and my feet begging for mercy. But I made across the planks on the
beaver dam, and down the steep slope to the final road crossing, and
finally hobbled across the football field to finish 6th overall in 29
hours and 8 minutes. I was disappointed that my feet gave out on me so
completely mile 90, but was pleased that I could hang on to finish.

So far my description makes it sound like we were the only people out
there on the trail, but that isn't quite accurate. The other runners
in our race were really friendly and we enjoyed running with several
them for pieces of the trail here and there. The aid station
volunteers were happy, helpful, and encouraging and we really
appreciated their willingness to stand outside in the hot sun and even
more, the cold Minnesota night, in order to help facilitate our
personal adventures. But the people who we saw the most, and who
deserve the most thanks, are my parents Virgil and Verena who served
as our crew, meeting us with cheers and enthusiasm at each aid
station, supplying us with food, clothing, flashlights, bodyglide, and
hot soup. To do this they had to endure standing around in the cold
for hours, staying up all night with only short naps in the car, and
witnessing other runners empty their stomachs at the aid
stations. This was certainly an endurance event for them as well, but
they did a spectacular job crewing their first ultra run.

Let me close here, lest I make this report an endurance event to
read. I just want to thank again all the people who volunteered to
make this event possible, especially my parents. I also want to thank
my wife Jenny who is a wonderful running partner and without whom I
might never have attempted such a crazy but rewarding challenge.