An mid-packer’s Mad City 100K

“You want to do WHAT?”

“You are going to run 100K on THE ROADS?”

“Are you CRAZY?”

These are the phrases that frequently passed from the mouths of my
friends — including some of my good running buddies — to the
insides of my ears. Thankfully, there is a great hollowness between
those ears, so usually such phrases generally floated in one ear and
right out the other. Looking ahead to the Mad City 100K, I kept
thinking, “Wow, this is going to be an interesting adventure.”

Yet, every once in awhile, the words lingered in my head a bit longer
and I wondered, was I indeed delusional? I had never run more than
50K on roads. Was running twice that distance, in the midst of a
national championship race, really a good idea for me?

But thankfully, the wind would blow (what great preparation for
Saturday!), taking with it those doubtful thoughts. I continued to
bumble along, looking forward to the 100K, checking the website daily
to see who else had signed up, happy when, every once in awhile, a
mid-pack runner, such as myself, popped up on the screen.

Mad City was a race with three components. First, it was the
national championship 100K. Elite runners would have the opportunity
to qualify for the USA 100K team that would compete at the world
championships. Though coming in the top three wasn’t enough — the
elites also had to make a qualifying time. Being world-class isn’t
easy stuff!

The race also welcomed mid-packers, such as myself, to do the race.
The 13-hour time limit was generous enough to allow many people who
aren’t Team USA material to traverse the course and see first-hand
what 100K on pavement feels like (if you couldn’t be there and still
want to know, have someone beat the bottoms of both of your feet with
hammers for a few hours — a good simulation).

And then there were the relay teams. Some thought that the
speedsters would be a distraction to the solo runners. I can say
that they definitely were — a POSITIVE distraction. The coral of
relay runners waiting their turn at the start-finish area did
double-duty as event cheerleaders, screaming the names of solo
runners as they went by, yelling encouragement. On the course they
continued to cheer and encourage the 100K runners. By the time I was
on my last loop, the teams had pretty much finished their day and I
missed them. Great idea to add them to the event — though, I am not
speaking as one of the elites. It would be interesting to get their
take on the relays.

So, why DID I feel compelled to do the 100K? I knew that I would be
lapped, I knew it would be hard, I knew the time of year would make
it tough for me to properly prepare.

The best answer I can give is the old Edmund Hillary line. When
asked why he climbed Mt. Everest he said simply, “Because it is
there.” Or at least this is what I told race director Timo
Yanacheck. Why am I doing the 100K? Although its primary purpose
was to serve as a national championship race, for me it was an
opportunity to try a new challenge. As soon as I heard chatter about
it, it was something that I wanted to do. I don’t know if can I nail
down precisely why it interested me other than “because it was
there.” It simply appealed to me. Maybe it was the opportunity to
be on the same race venue as the top people in our sport — like
taking my Saturn and driving it with the top guns at the Daytona 500.

But there was also the personal challenge. Many of us mid-pack ultra
runners fall into the comfortable plod of an easy Saturday morning
run on the trails (as my running buddy Jim says, “a hike and a
picnic”) and start to lose ambition to move much beyond our comfort
level. Could I push myself to plod a bit faster, for 100 kilometers,
on pavement? Could I come to the end of a loop, and go out and do it
again, and again, and again, and again… ten times in all? Although
I have had my share of physical injuries, it is usually my head that
goes before my body in a long race. Could I struggle through the
inevitable tough sections and keep the bigger goal of finishing
before me? When I come in on loop six — 60 kilometers into the race
– could I convince myself that there really is a good reason to go
on and do four more loops? Would that chocolate Easter bunny, hung
before me like the proverbial carrot, pull me to the full 100K?
Would I have a death and resurrection experience the day before
Easter? Perhaps going through my own would make the Easter
celebrations a bit more meaningful the next day. Or at least take
the guilt out of eating more than just the ears on my chocolate bunny.

So, on a cold and windy day in April, I bundled up and toed the line
at Vilas Park in Madison. What a thrill to be there with the best in
our sport. What a thrill to share the same course as them. What a
thrill to do what they were to going to do… albeit a bit slower.

I gave the L’il Mister a basic race plan. My goal was to break 11
hours. I thought that I’d go out a bit quick the first loop and then
back off to average about an hour per loop the first 50K. This would
give me an hour of cushion in the second 50K to allow for the
inevitable deterioration. Somehow, I nailed it. I did the first 50K
in five hours and was still feeling okay. Tired, but okay. It was
hard, but it was as hard as I envisioned it would be. I knew this
wasn’t going to be a pleasant trot through the woods. No hike and a
picnic.

As the laps went on, I was sad to see some of my friends have a tough
time, dropping for one reason or another. Stomachs rebelled. Feet
rebelled. For some, the pavement was just too brutal. I was
grateful not only to be following my hoped-for plan for the day, but
also to simply be surviving a tough event.

The 10K loop seemed like an ideal distance to me. It wasn’t so short
that you got dizzy, but it was short enough that you came to the
start-finish area on a regular basis. What a great spectator race –
and what great spectators. I was so grateful to see many TPs and
Striders out there volunteering and cheering.

Weather was a big factor for everyone — including event organizers.
Tents blew to shreds. Water in cups turned to ice. Volunteers
turned to ice (except for John Rodee, who I understand stood a bit
too close to a heater and managed to melt his clothes to his back –
got to get more details on that one!). My preferred Perpetum turned
to ice.

At the start line, I had mountaineering clothes on until the last
minute. Giving up my down and wind pants was like handing off the
last life preserver on the Titantic. The biting wind, blowing right
off the lake, blew through my tights as if they weren’t even there.

“I did ski races this winter in warmer temps” I said to a competitor
next to me. From the back I heard another say, “and I did some with
less snow than this too!” Northern Wisconsin received over a foot of
snow in recent days, but thankfully, there was only a dusting in the
southern sections. It was going to be the single-digit windchills
that would make us suffer.

Well, that and 100 kilometers on pavement. Let’s be real, you can
always bundle up for cold weather, but you can’t always run 100
kilometers!

So let me bring this rambling to an end. The top finishers have
already been noted in previous reports so I won’t go into the
competitive part of the event. I’m sure that Timo and others can
give a better RACE report (but many congrats to the top dogs,
especially locals Ann Heaslett, Carolyn Smith and Kevin Setnes). As
for my own personal little event — the “The Maddening Mad City
Mid-pack Runner’s Road 100K” — I’m happy to say that I met my goal
and came in under 11 hours (10:55 or so).

And better yet — no injuries that I am aware of (beyond a road map
of red streaks across my body from seam-chaffing). Although I do
have that “I just ran my first marathon” feeling in my legs. Grandma
and I will have a nice pace together when we go for our Easter walk.

Speaking of Easter — the sun has risen (Alleluia!) so it is time to
go and eat that chocolate bunny. ALL of it!

Happy trails… and roads!

Mary Gorski