Terribly Tough 10k Race Report
Race Date: Sunday, October 17, 2021 – 9:30am
At the starting line of the Terribly Tough 10k, the very next morning after a solid yet taxing win at Wild Duluth 100k, I was finally sure that I would be able to make the distance. I didn’t know for sure if I’d run the whole way, and I knew I wouldn’t win. The night before, before going to bed, I didn’t think I would even show up. I set my alarm just in case. When I woke up Sunday morning I felt so terrible, I could barely walk. I didn’t think I’d make it to the start line. But, I started rustling, just put on my clothes and Em drove me. After some coffee and just the walking around to get dressed and get to the car and I was feeling tremendously looser. But not running shape. Maybe walking shape. Not up Ely’s Peak though.
After a brief and painful warmup of light jogging, I was ready to go, hatchet in hand. I had asked the race director Andy the evening before if I had to bring the hatchet to the finish line the next day. He immediately responded with an emphatic “YEAH!” but then followed up that I didn’t really need to bring it. He’d have the arrowheads at the finish line for past Ultimate Wildman finishers. So of course I just had to run the 10k with the hatchet. That was probably no advisable. I got a few sideways looks by Andy and Kim, and Em was pretty strongly against me running with the sharp hatchet. I second guessed my decision many times, but clutched it at the start line until the pre-race brief wrapped up and a “3-2-1, GO!” blared over the megaphone.
I sprinted out ahead, but a couple others sped ahead. Yeah, I had absolutely zero response. Oh well, at least I wouldn’t have to suffer. Well, I was suffering. I could see the climb up Ely’s nearing from the sweet, flat, runnable pavement of the Munger Trail and dreaded it. I hopped right up the rocks, a little off balance. I had to use just my left hand for scrambling up the rocks since my right was in use, clenching my hatchet and trying to pay enough attention to not injure myself or others. My heart was pounding right away and I was breathing heavily. Nearly immediately, I tripped and fell, the hatchet somewhat bracing my fall. The incline was so steep, and I was moving forward so slowly, and hunched over so much that I barely fell at all. It was maybe a foot from where my hand naturally was, to the ledge rock that they landed on. Hatchet still intact, I got up and kept going. I had practically nothing to give but just tried to keep it at whatever threshold level I could muster. I tried to keep the legs churning up and up and up. It felt like I had a parachute backpack on. With rocks in it. I noticed people behind me. The two people up ahead, some young speedster guy and Wynn Davis, a regional trail runner with whom I’ve competed in a few races, were out of sight. Wynn is fast on shorter trail races and I pegged him to win. The race was on way up ahead.
At the top of Ely’s Peak I was passed by a tall gentleman who appeared to be wearing cut off jorts. I believe they were running shorts with a unique print, but either way he passed me and I was able to hang on. I asked his name. Kurt. I couldn’t pass him, and didn’t feel like I needed to, and yet hanging onto his tail was easy and I caught my breath up and over Ely’s Peak on the rocky outcroppings on top. There wasn’t anyone behind me. There were a few people out on the trail enjoying the perfect day, and it might have been a concerning scene with Kurt running hard, and me right behind him wielding a hatchet.
We ran together on the technical, rocky section up to Bardon’s Peak. I built up some strength once the running became a bit easier and was really tailing Kurt closely. With some easy running ahead and an opportunity to pass, I took it and surged a bit. It was enough to leave Kurt out of sight. But, it was probably not for long. I would have to keep it up or else Kurt would probably pass me back with no regard. Alone again, I just pushed and pushed. It was an absolutely beautiful morning, and with sweat dripping from my brow I tried to capitalize on any easy running, slightly downhill trail sections. Getting closer to Spirit, I knew it was less just a couple miles – less than two – to the finish from the aid station at Magney. When I got to a little creek crossing with steep embankments on both sides, I knew I was close. But it was the last big climb up from there to the Magney aid station. I saw Kurt behind me, which lit a fire under my butt. My right foot was starting to hurt in the same area as the day before. Right hand turns were becoming excruciating. But besides that I felt good. Pretty strong. No spring in my step, but I could crank pretty good actually. Just like two years before…
I really tried to hammer up the the hill to Magney, and sprinted through the small gathering at the aid station, trying to move my feet as quickly as possible in an attempt to emulate the speed of a fresh runner with the gait of an arthritic shuffler. The shuffle was working. I didn’t see Kurt or anyone else behind me as I passed the cool bridge over Stewart Creek. Nobody ahead, either. They were probably finished. I knew it was just a skip and a jump to the finish line, so I booked it down Skyline. If I just leaned forward, I thought to myself, I’d make third place. Not bad. I hopped back into the woods and leaped and jumped over each root onto the rocky soil leading into Spirit Mountain. I forgot about some of the steep and rocky sections that awaited me. Ugh, I just had nothing. But, I was also very scared and wanted to maintain my third place. With one last bit of energy I surged up a hill by the a very old concrete water diversion structure in the middle of the woods, then back down, up and down a whoop-de-whoop bridge with chicken wire over it, then up and up a slight incline that snaked around mountain bike trails. Nobody biking yet… I just knew Kurt was right there behind me. I could see him.
Sprinting as fast as I possible could over a few longer wooded bridges, I knew I was close. I was excited to get to the catwalk. I was all easy running downhill from here. No more trails. Just one last right hand turn for my foot to endure and then sweet relief. Kurt was behind me. I sprinted with everything I got. He wouldn’t be able to catch me. With the finish sealed, hatchet in hand, I sprinted in. Ahh. No sweet relief, though. My body was wrecked. I was pretty happy with the weekend. A finish was good enough for me. 55 minutes and third place was fine. The success of the weekend was the 100k. With a win at that, all else was fine in the world.
I received an honorary knighting along with the handful of other Ultimate Wildman and Wildwoman finishers, and tied my arrowhead to my hatchet. I don’t know if I’d do the Ultimate Wildman again. It is so grueling! Yet, I’m two for two. It is humanly possible.
Shoes: Brooks Cascadia 13 size 12.5