It’s probably time to sit down and chat about my last event, the Superior 100.

Let me start by saying, this one felt different. There was some pre-race chatter, but it circled around the fact that the race could potentially be cancelled due to area wild fires in the week leading up to the event. I didn’t allow myself to get excited about the event until literally a few days prior. In a typical year, race registration opens in January and one spends the summer excited about running and dedicates hours and miles into training for the race.

Registration for this year’s event didn’t open until permits could be secured from the local governing bodies; about a month out from race day. I wasn’t even sure I was going to run this year due to having finished Western States 100 in June. I was unsure if my body could handle 2 100 mile events or if my mind even wanted to do 2 100 mile events in a year. Much less in the span of 11 weeks! And to top it off, I started my business, Sunrise Fitness, June 1, so that was just getting off the ground as well.

Needless to say, going into it, my mind and body were already a little tired.

However, I decided to do the event for a few reasons:

A. The sheer challenge of running 2 100 mile races in 11 weeks.

B. I wasn’t ready to be done racing for the season.

C. I love the course, the community & the event overall.

D. And lastly, why not?

I signed up for the race with 2 of my friends, Alisha & Kelly - we have become over many miles “Team Pocket Pickles,” or “TPP” for short. The name stems from a training weekend we did together a couple years ago where Kelly & Alisha literally put dill pickles in the pockets of their packs for the run. Over the course of that weekend we even came up with a little jingle to go with our name.

Shortly after we all signed up for Superior, Kelly was involved in a very serious accident & suffered life threatening injuries. I am happy to report that she is recovering & we were all able to spend a sunny day on her porch one Sunday afternoon recently. However, that left Alisha & I to toe the line on race day with Kelly in our hearts & minds.

Alisha & I decided to try to run as many miles of the course together as we could. We talked openly about being ok with either of us needing to take off at any point, and at the end of the day making sure we each ran the race we needed to run. However, having trained together and finished other events together, we knew we could likely knock out much of the course at a similar pace.

Come race day, I arrived at the start a little later than usual. We were camping about 40 min away, and I knew all I needed to do was check in & use the bathroom one more time. What I forgot was how fun it is to see the community of runners before the race. I barely had enough time to do the 2 things I needed to do. Alisha & I were starting near the back of the pack.

The first 4 miles are on a paved path along Hwy 61, and it’s a good chance to run off some nerves & enjoy the morning sun on Lake Superior. I actually don’t mind this section because it proves to be a nice warm up to get the legs moving before the next 99 miles of technical trail.

This is my 7th start at this race, so I know exactly what I’m in for. The day is proving to be warm & somewhat humid. As we move on to the single track trail, I let Alisha take the lead. I don’t mind following today and give her a little space in front of me. From the beginning I am kicking rocks, I just can’t seem to pick up my feet & my legs lack the spring in my step I usually have at the start of races. I continue to follow Alisha down the trail & do all the things I know I need to do. Eat. Drink. Salt tabs. Stay in control. Other than kick rocks & missing the spring in my step, I feel ok.

We check off the first aid station at Split Rock right on our estimated pace. Next up Beaver Bay another 10 miles down the trail. The day is warming up & we’re moving along. Maybe not as quick as we had anticipated, but we’re moving well enough. Eat. Drink. Salt. Breathe.

Leaving the aid station with pickles in hand!

Beaver Bay is the first aid station we can see crew at 20 miles. So far so good. Next up Silver Bay at 25 miles. It’s definitely heating up. I’m still kicking rocks & I keep saying to Alisha that I have “one pace.” There’s no picking it up today.

Silver Bay at mile 25 is the last time we’ll see our crew before County Rd 6 at mile 43.5. We’re a little behind our anticipated time, but I’m not overly worried about it. We are still way ahead of cut offs and my goal this year is to simply finish before dark on Saturday night. I’d also really like to get to County Road 6 before dark. That will prove to be more challenging.

After leaving Silver Bay, it’s 9 miles to the Tettegouche aid station and I have my first fall. Nothing serious, but caught my toe (still kicking rocks!) and banged my knees. Luckily the ground was pretty soft, and I only had a small cut on my knee.

A quick photo break to soak up the magic of Bean & Bear Lakes on the way to the Tettegouche aid station.

At Tettegouche, our friend, Jen, was there. She would be pacing us for 19 miles starting at County Road 6. It was great to have her help here. I ate a quesadilla and refilled my water bladder. It’s a long 8+ miles to County Road 6. Alisha & I are still together, but I can tell Alisha has a bit more spring in her step than I do. She continues to hang with me & we make our way towards the next aid station. The sun is getting lower in the sky and I can tell it’s going to be close whether or not we make it there before dark. I have a light in my pack, so I’m not super worried if we don’t, but it brings back memories of the first year when I ran this race. That first year, I got there after dark, much later than anticipated. That year was not my year, and I ended up pulling out at mile 85. I still have skeletons in my closet from that year. Hitting County Road 6 before dark helps keep those skeletons at bay.

Since the day is winding down & we’re slightly behind our projected time into County Road 6, Alisha picks up the pace to get there a little sooner, as she needs extra time in the aid station this year. This amazing woman needed to feed & snuggle her baby before we went into the overnight section. I’m seriously so impressed with my badass friend. She picks up the pace, and I just don’t have it in my legs to keep up. I’ll get there, but here’s my “one pace” for today. In the deep woods the sun has set and it really is pretty dark. My eyes don’t love the dark, so I dig out my headlamp. Shortly after, I drop down off the ridge to the paved road that leads to the aid station just ahead. It’s light enough out of the forest that I don’t need my headlamp now. Those first year skeletons can stay in their closet.

Matt helping me get ready for the overnight section.

After a reset - dry shirt, all my lights, snacks, and refilling my pack, Alisha, Jen our pacer, and I set off into the night. I won’t see Matt until morning. My friend, Eric, is pacing us from Crosby and will meet us at the 62.9 mile aid station at what will likely be 2am. It’s 19+ miles until then. There are 2 aid stations in this section, both of which are too small for our crews to meet us at, but will provide a chance to refill packs and have drop bags available (we packed our drop bags ahead of time, and the race takes them to designated aid stations for us.)

It’s an uneventful 7 miles to Finland aid station at mile 51.2, except for the fact that my toes are killing me. They are hitting the end of my shoes and after all the rock kicking so far, my feet are not happy. I take some time here to change socks, but I won’t be able to change shoes until we see Eric at Crosby. Changing socks seems to help. The next two sections are a blur. It’s dark. There’s roots. I’m tired and I still have one gear. That one gear now is basically a hike. But, we’re moving forward and that’s what counts.

Overall I feel “fine.” Oh the word “fine” - what does it actually mean? In this case, I don’t feel terrible, but I certainly don’t feel great. But nothing is wrong enough to do anything about. Now if I could stop kicking these rocks, yeah, that’d be great….

Eventually we knock out the Sonju Rd aid station & arrive at Crosby State Park and mile 62.9, where Eric will take over pacing duties until morning. We’re definitely later than we thought we would be, but again, we’re “fine.” We are ahead of cut offs, we’re moving consistently. It is what it is this year.

Another reset here. I change shoes. I try to get some food in. Food is sounding less and less appetizing. But one has to keep eating. My friend, Eric, joins Alisha and I; and into the darkness we go. This next section can suck whatever life you might have right out of you. It’s a long section at 9+ miles, it is in that darkest time of night when all your body wants to do is sleep and it’s a hard section. A technical descent to the Manitou River followed by a long climb up to Horseshoe Ridge (which on a clear night, is a great spot to star gaze.) Then a long ominous section to the Caribou River. After that it’s still a couple more miles to the Sugarloaf Aid Station.

I’ve been leading our train most of the night, and I continue to do so through most of Crosby. Alisha is struggling a little, and I realize I don’t have nearly as many snacks in my pack as I should. And what I do have, certainly doesn’t sound good to eat! The pace is conservative, but again we are moving forward and eventually we’ll get to Sugarloaf.

Once we get across the Caribou river, you can tell a new day is beginning. It’s getting lighter. We are definitely behind our projected time. I need a reset, but I have nothing at Sugarloaf. Not even a drop bag. Matt & all my stuff will be at mile 77.9, another 5+ miles up the trail. Alisha decides to have her crew meet her at Sugarloaf when we get there. Once we finally arrive at Sugarloaf, I grab a few snacks, and leave Alisha to do her hard reset. We agree to meet up at Cramer Road, the next aid station.

With a new day, Eric and I set off for Cramer Road, and mile 77.9. I’m feeling more energetic, as is typical once the sun comes up. That is short lived however. I still need a reset. I need to eat and get off my feet for a few minutes. As we make our way towards Cramer Road my pace continues to slow. Now the miles are stretching on and the aid station doesn’t seem like it’s getting any closer.

Slowly making my way to Cramer Road aid station. E. Volk photo.

I finally arrive at Cramer Road, and just as I’m walking in to the aid station and taking off my pack, Alisha bounds in behind me!! She looks like a new person! I on the other hand, can only think about sitting down & taking a minute to regroup.

Eric is done pacing here and my next pacer, Michelle, will meet me at the next aid station 7+ miles down the trail. So this next section I will be running solo. I tell Alisha to go on ahead. She is looking fresh & ready to go. I know I don’t have the legs to keep up with her right now.

Alisha heads out, I take my time here & do all the things - right now, I can’t even tell you what they were - eating, refilling my pack, probably changing socks…. It’s all kind of a blur. My crew and the aid station volunteers here & all along the way are amazing though! I do remember that!!!

I finally head out, and for the first time during this race, I’m alone. I know this section well. It’s actually one of my favorite sections and even though there are skeletons in these woods from my first year (this was the section where I quit during my first Superior attempt) I have made peace with them.

The morning sun is illuminating the trees and the forest is simply magical with the maples turning red and a hint of fall in the air. Soon I’m running along the Cross River and I’m really enjoying myself. My pace has quickened some and I’m actually running what I can here. It feels great. Morning on the trail is amazing.

I roll into the Temperance aid station and Alisha is there! I’m feeling good and want to roll through here fairly quickly, but need to address some chafing on my sides and back that has been bugging me since the night time. I pull up my shirt, and Lisa, a medic & volunteer, sees my chafing on my sides. It’s bad. I knew it was, but I couldn’t actually see it. She says she has a solution for me. And THANK GOODNESS she did. She literally saved my hide. The tegaderm bandages she used proved to be a perfect solution, as my chafing didn’t bother me the rest of the race, and I could leave it on for my post race shower & prevent the excruciating pain that showers have on raw skin.

Once I’m all bandaged up, I’m ready to hit the trail with my pacer, Michelle, and Alisha. Alisha is still looking strong and fresh. I on the other hand, have lead in my legs and my one pace… It only takes a minute before Alisha has pulled ahead. There’s no way I can hang with her. Michelle and I are continuing towards Carlton Peak, but I literally have no energy. I find I even have to stop a couple times on the climbs to catch my breath. Eventually we make it to Sawbill Aid Station, mile 90.7. The second to last aid station on course. I’m getting closer. But it feels hard. So hard.

In and out of Sawbill, and again it’s all kind of a blur. I know I wasn’t much for conversation and Michelle was doing a great job keeping me moving. We finally arrive at the last aid station, Oberg, mile 96.2. I’m tired. I want to be done. Only one way to get there - keep moving forward. I tell Michelle, that I need her to lead. I just want to zone out and follow her feet. I also really want to be done before dark

This way to the finish line! M. Volk photo.

The climb up Moose Mountain is way harder than I remember. Again I need to stop a time or two to catch my breath. This is not like me at all. Usually climbing is my super power. Keep moving forward. The miles here are taking forever. Then it’s the last big climb up Mystery Mountain. The switchbacks back which I have powered through in the past are proving to take the last of the energy out of me. Eventually we come to the rock outcropping where you can see and hear the finish line - except that it is still 2 (very long) miles away.

It’s only 2 miles. I know this. My watch died up Mystery Mountain, so I have no sense of time. Time is clearly standing still. There are more rocks here than ever before. And probably more rocks than anywhere else on the trail! Michelle continues to tell me I’m doing well, and that we’re getting closer. I’m not buying it. Keep moving forward.

Finally, I hear the Poplar River and cross the bridge for the final stretch to Lutsen resort. I’m passed by other racers running it in. I have no run left. I don’t even have a strong hike left. I have a walk. And it’s not fast. But. I will get there. And it’s not dark yet.

The final push to the finish line at Lutsen Resort. M. Volk photo.

We hit the pavement and I’m crying. I tell Michele that I probably “just need a snack” and “this isn’t logical” but I feel like I failed. How is it possible that one can run 100 miles be finishing well before the cut off, well before dark, and still feel like a “failure?”

That’s what I have been trying to unpack the last two weeks. Logically, I achieved all of my goals. This year has been incredible. Two major 100 mile races. Starting a business. It’s been a lot of awesomeness! But one of the reasons I come back to these events is because they strip you down to your soul. They make you look inside yourself and find out what really makes you tick.

All the emotions!! Finish line tears captured by S. Severson.

As for Alisha, she finished a strong race about 30 min ahead of me. She was able to catch up to her Mom who was running the marathon distance and they were able to finish together. I am so grateful to be surrounded by amazingly strong friends.

Alisha, Michelle, Eric, Matt and Jen, you are the best. At the end of the day, the friendship and support of this group is second to none. I couldn’t have done it without you.

The BEST CREW & PACERS I could ask for! Team Volk & Team Leis!!

And thank you to John & Cheri, the race directors, and all the volunteers, because without you, none of this would be possible. Thank you for creating an event that allows us to look inside of ourselves and become better humans as a result.