2009 10 30 superior sawtooth 100 mile my 100th ultra

Susan Donnelly Ultramarathon Trail Runner. Motivational Speaker. http://www.susanruns100s.com

Superior Sawtooth 100 Mile - My 100th Ultra!

Date : October 30, 2009

Wedged in between UTMB and my race directing debut at the Cumberland Trail 50k was my 100th ultra.

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In 1997, I ran my first ultra. It was the only one I ran that year. I’ve run as 17 ultras in a year, sometimes as few as 4 or 5, and in the worst year of my life, only 1 hard-fought finish.

So it was an unexpected surprise back in February to see my total somehow nearing 100 ultras. And it even looked like it might happen around Superior Sawtooth 100 mile, my favorite race. What were the odds? Taking it as a sign, I set a full schedule and stayed healthy as the months and the races rolled by.

Then, two short weeks after my toughest-ever race at UTMB 100 and four insanely hectic days of unpacking and repacking between that trip and this, I stepped off the plane in Minnesota for Superior Sawtooth with 99 ultras behind me.

Homecoming The pre-race briefing on the evening before at this intimate 100-miler is, for me, like returning to my family after a long trip – happy and comforting. Larry Pederson, wife Colleen, and the entire family down to the grandkids work hard to set up the race and there are several friends here I’ve known for years, so it really is family.

Larry Pederson giving the pre-race briefing.

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Larry gave his usual calm and humorous briefing and I looked around at all the friends and familiar faces: Stewart Johnson (with 13 finishes) and his wife Deb (here for her first Superior), Brian Poeppel (who I’ve known now for 10 years), Darryl and Lynn Saari, John Taylor, and to my delight, part of my VHTRC family from Massanutten – Gary Knipling, John Dodds, Bonnie and Jo Lockner. As usual, there were scads of runners here for their first 100, just like I was eleven years ago. It’s a tough first 100.

On race morning, Dave Wakefield, who was running the 50-miler the following day, drove Stewart, Deb and I down to the start. Runners and crew milled around the Gooseberry Falls Visitor Center, noshing on Colleen’s homemade banana muffins and zucchini muffins – best pre-race food ever.

Someone said my name and I turned around to find my friend Darlene, one of the previous race directors, along with daughter Chelsea, son-in-law Jonathan, and adorable granddaughter Janessa. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen Darlene and Chelsea.

My first many years here, years Darlene directed the race, are special times I really treasure.

I’ve never run a race since that had that tight-knit family feel to it. I’ve met runners, most of whom never even ran the race, that feel the need to be critical of those years. It’s easy criticize, harder to be grateful. Considering all the work it took me to just put on a small 50k, all the work the runners never see, I’m more amazed and grateful than ever that Darlene was willing to keep the race alive for us all those years. Seeing her and her family was my 100th ultra present.

We’re Off Larry gathered us all together, said the word and without much ado, we were off along the bridge over the magnificent Gooseberry Falls.

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Bridge over Gooseberry Falls.

As the crowd thinned out, I managed to find a comfortable pace and look around. Wow, we were lucky this year! Most years, a random tree here or there thinks it’s fall. This year, everything had that golden tint and plenty of dramatic maples were turning scarlet. The cloudless sky was growing bluer in the morning light – it was going to be a beautiful day and I settled in to enjoy it.

The trail started to float by in suspended time over mossy rock balds, through deep, soft woods, past views of freighters in Lake Superior on one side and the infinite miles of northern woods on the other. Each bit of trail in sight was familiar and welcoming.

The day heated up and it was good to be from the hot, humid South. The original forecast for rain clearly wasn’t to be. Sometimes I ran with others, most of the time by myself. As a bonus, Dave crewed me in addition to Stewart and Deb at aid stations along the way until it was time for him to leave to rest up for his own race the next morning. It was nice to have someone there for me at the aid stations.

Night in the North Woods Daylight eventually faded. Oddly, I turned on my headlamp exactly where I remember doing that last year. Consistency can’t be bad, can it? An occasional barred owl spoke to us in the

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darkness.

Things were going smoothly until my headlamp unexpectedly began to fade early. None of the batteries in that pack had worked well and I kicked myself for using them. I reached around for my spare set of batteries…and they weren’t there. Ok. The two guys I was running near didn’t have any spares but given my pace and the probable time left to the next aid station, Crosby Manitou, which had some wide gravel road on the way in, I’d make it there alright.

The dim headlamp light was slowly putting me to sleep and in the silence, I started stumbling a bit off trail. Then I heard the sound I’d been hoping for…wolves. They were far off to the right, down by the shore, singing like kindred spirits.

At Crosby Manitou, Maria Barton’s exceptionally well-stocked aid station, a kind saint gave me three fresh batteries that were better than the originals. The good news was I perked up. The bad news was I’d forgotten this next section was so tough at night.

Time passed without passing. It could have been hours or minutes. Then…wolves again, but this time maybe 10 or so, and close enough to hear their individual voices weave in and around the others, alone and in chorus. It was the best I’d ever heard in the race. They sang a long time and I wanted to stay instead of passing from earshot. I hoped the other runners were listening and enjoying this rare treat.

As dawn rose, I found myself running into the Sugarloaf aid station with another runner who’d heard the wolves and as we talked, it turned out he was a chimpanzee researcher (honest, no hallucination) who described his research so interestingly, it completely woke me up. It was like surfing TV channels and getting drawn into a fascinating documentary. We arrived at the aid station awake and in good shape.

As I was preparing to leave, who should come barreling in but Gary Knipling on full-tilt race pace. Gary’s a friend but, well, I couldn’t let him pass me. We left the aid station together and slowly, I got running again just to keep up with him. My legs were feeling UTMB but underneath it all, everything was moving very well. Gary eventually pulled away but at least the night slump was gone and running again felt more comfortable than walking.

Ironically, I must have reached the Cramer Road aid station a minute or two after last year’s time because I got caught in the river of Moose Mountain marathoners that had just started, where I’d arrived a few minutes before their start last year. To my disappointment, Cathy Drexler and Wade weren’t there – I must have just missed them and hated to go another year without seeing them.

Temperance and Sawbill aid stations passed by all too fast. These sections had in some way been part of the race all 9 years I had, and they were so reassuring to see again. I caught some marathoners along the way,the top three 50-milers passed me, and then John Dodds and Bonnie were there to greet me at Oberg Mountain, the last aid station. I left Oberg quickly but reluctantly on the last section of the race.

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Before I knew it, there was the view of Caribou Lodge below the top of Mystery Mountain, then the descent, the bridge, and the last gravel road on the way in.

The Finish I ran every bit from the top of Mystery Mountain toward the finish. At the corner of Caribou Lodge I passed a man standing still and looking confused. Turns out he was a marathoner.

Once he saw me run by, he took off and tried to beat me into the finish and get un-chicked.

Nope, I wasn’t going to run all this way, feel this good at the end of a tough 100, and get passed. It felt good to dig up the strength to outrun him, and surprising to feel even more reserve left untapped.

This race goes so fast. Every time I’ve been here, I’ve never wanted it to end. And yet, sooner or later, a landmark appears that signals the beginning of the end and I can feel each click of a giant, internal stopwatch ticking down to zero. It’s so bittersweet, that tug of war between anticipating the finish and the fulfillment of crossing the finish line. I speed up instinctively, even though I still don’t want it to end. And then suddenly I round the corner and the finish line is a few paces in front of me. I cross the line and another year is over.

Friends and fellow runners are all hanging out at the finish at Caribou Highlands Lodge, eating and watching everyone else finish all the way to Lynn Saari, smiling and looking like she’d just run a 5k, in her first Superior 100 finish. It’s a fun party afterwards with plenty of friends old and new to connect with before we all go our separate ways. Still, it’s over. I’m no longer on the course. The moment is gone, replaced by another, like a river sweeping me along.

It will be another year before I’m back.

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Darryl and Lynn Saari

Afterwards I’m lucky. No matter how “well” I run, Superior is always a spiritual renewal, a retreat, a quiet, deep down touch on bedrock. I don’t have to be doing, I don’t have to be thinking or planning or distracted in any way. I’m just here. Running. Now. Everything is ok, everything is back in perspective.

This race is special to me for one other reason. There was a time I wasn’t sure I’d ever get here again, ever get to another race or many other things, for that matter. In the middle of that interminable, scary time, this was my race back into life again. So every year, besides the sentimental value, this is my meditation on thanks, my chance to confess my gratefulness for being here and doing this. My thanks for where I am in life. For living.

I talk to the trail, tell it what happened in the past year, and thank if for being here again for me like an old friend.

I can’t wait to see my old friend again next year.

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