Ultimate Wildman Challenge – Part Three – Terribly Tough 10k

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Race Day: Sunday, October 18, 2026 – 9:30am

I woke up to my alarm feeling sleepy. There were food dishes everywhere, my room a mess. My body a mess. My life a mess! Gah! I got up and felt rightfully creaky. But hey, easily good enough to run. I knew well enough after four Wildman challenges and a handful of multiday endurance experiences that one’s body can sustain a tremendous amount of damage, feel like absolute garbage the next morning, then seemingly recover like nothing happened within 45 minutes of movement.

My plan was the standard Caribou stop for breakfast then catch the shuttle bus to the start. I was dreading the course – it was the exact section that crushed my spirits the day before. From front to back. Well, the half-mile run on the Munger Trail out of the aptly named Munger aid station – the first 2,000 feet of Sunday’s 10k – wasn’t so bad. But the rest? CRUSHING during the 100k. After a bit of movement (putting on clothes, putting on shoes, walking to the van), I noticed my left knee as the most painful point. Surprisingly, my ankles and feet felt fine. They had been bashed to hell, but it wasn’t a critical situation. I wanted to wear ankle sleeves but I had misplaced them from the day before or left them with my crew Justus and Caroline. I looked a little bit but felt like I was running late so I opted for full calf compression socks for the 10k. They felt good to put on and figured they’d offer a bit of protection if nothing else. Feeling pressured by the clock to get out the door, I jammed all the stuff I thought I needed into a bag, then approached my wall. Like proud fighter from antiquity going to war, I carefully removed my Ultimate Wildman hatchet from its permanent location and weighed it in my hand. Yes. It’s time to battle!

I got to Spirit Mountain with plenty of hustle and bustle going on, and took off my warm clothes down to my skimpy race kit once again. Unlike the morning before, it was daylight and sunny and warmer out, and I really hoped the bus wouldn’t be too cold. I had a full bottle of root beer with me from the 100k grocery run, my hatchet with its protective sheath, and I boarded the bus. Luckily, the ride was smooth and easy and it wasn’t too long at the start line. I wanted to just get the race over with. I warmed up a bit and the running felt rightfully horrid. My left knee was bugging me the most, but that was relatively minor and I felt it wouldn’t be a problem during the run. Nothing would be a problem during the run. I was feeling confident. The huge mass of people started congregating around the start line as the race director Andy gave instructions. Without too much more delay – “3, 2, 1, GO!!” and we set off. I audibly grunted right away, with no pop in my legs to get off the start line. I felt the crowd start to overtake me and struggled to get the legs churning and develop my spot in the pack. Kevin took off fast and I just couldn’t keep on him. There were maybe 10 people ahead of me and I dreaded the steep rocky challenge to get onto the runnable trail way up on the ridgeline. I settled in right behind Kevin. One of his poles slipped on a rock and I saw it right in front of my face. Yikes! So I put in the surge. I went around Kevin and another racer and just absolutely pounded the steep, rocky incline. Ouch. My breathing was immediately out of control. I could feel my heart thumping. My heart was surprised by my brain’s decisions. This again? Really, brain?

There were random hikers and pedestrians on the trail on this perfect fall day, and it was pretty challenging trying to navigate the steep, rocky, varied terrain with all the people. Another racer almost took a wrong turn into the woods, I made a pass and yelled for him, then I passed another younger kid as we scaled the bare rock faces of Ely’s Peak into the golden fall morning. Sweat adorned my brow and it felt muggier and warmer than the day before, although the sun and light breeze were similarly enjoyable. We sure lucked out on the weekend!

By the time I was over Ely’s Peak, I couldn’t see anyone in front or behind me. No man’s land. Huh. I didn’t expect it for such a race but it was nice after the pandemonium of the start. Time to lock in and get this done, I said. After a 100k, so spread out and just dragging on and on – there is not really a moment in the 100k that feels critical or important (just steady chipping away) – it was strange to encounter the wild start, immediate quiet atop Ely’s peak, and just the crunching of leaves and my labored breathing to listen to as I hopped across a puddle towards the flowy singletrack around Bardon’s Peak. The day before, this section felt so unrunnable. I was lucky and relieved to be moving pretty well through the woods, running strong. My ankles were holding up, although I kept envisioning taking too small of a step and tripping onto the plentiful boardwalks through that section. Leg lifts all day, baby! I heard rustling behind me, and out of nowhere a younger guy blasted past me. Was it the same guy I passed going up Ely’s? I couldn’t tell. No way. He was running so fast I thought perhaps he’d started late. Oh well. I had no idea what place I was in, but it didn’t really matter. I just wanted to push my limits, maybe finish under an hour, and get that damn arrowhead! So I kept pushing.

At the next small hill, I saw the guy who passed me walking. What’s going on here? I got right up close behind him, trying to play some mind games with the young buck. I stuck on his back and he didn’t make any offers to pass. My presence was felt, and he didn’t walk up any more hills. I could tell he was struggling, though, and he eventually put on a surge and pulled away. I made it my mission to catch him again. I would do so by being consistent, I told myself. It was fairly hard to do with extremely fatigued legs, as any little hill presented a problem. But, I was running good and just kept it smooth. Smooth and consistent.

Through a really chunky, jagged rock section and onto some more boardwalks, I saw the kid up ahead and I put in a little surge, knowing that there was uphill ahead. It worked, and I was right back on his back. We accordioned a bit… he’d surge ahead and I’d reel him in. We were both pushing hard down the hill, and I lost him as I crossed Skyline and we got to the true Spirit Mountain area. In the exact spot where I lost my hatchet’s arrowhead last year, I made sure to go carefully around all the trees, holding my hatchet in front of me as not to knock it. A quick check… arrowhead still there. Look up, my guy was stopped! Well, he moving forward but very slowly, with a limp. I asked if he was OK as I breezed by, and he muttered that the ankle turned a little too much. Not exactly the way I want to duke it out with someone, but I took the place improvement any way I could get it. I wanted to make a statement so ran as hard as I could up to the Magney aid station and was almost reduced to a walk. So hard! I was sucking wind. At the top, I churned my legs as hard as I possibly could, feeling quite clunky. But when I turned off Skyline and headed downhill I was flying again. The rest of the course is just relentless ups and downs, and I took them in stride. Down to the DWP, back up, back down to a creek, almost got smoked by a mountain biker. With my watch already flashing 5+ miles I knew the pain would soon be over. I wasn’t even suffering, it was great. Just a nice hard run through the woods. Once you get going, the pain and soreness from the day before just somehow evaporates. That doesn’t make it any less extraordinarily hard – just less painful and agonizing. I was so happy to see the boardwalks, the trail widening, the ski trails, and I knew I was closing in on my finish. I busted out of the wood onto the two-track road and saw Shannon in the distance. No other racers, nobody behind me. I tried to look cool by adjusting my form and putting down some fast running, and figured why not leave it all on the course anyways?

Under the chairlift, I was squinting to see down the stretch. I hoped it was just a simple turn down to the finish and couldn’t quite remember. The sign came into view. Yep. Oh yeah. One last turn. I leaned in, surged forward and kept the feet moving. I glanced at my watch – 1:00:01. Come on! The finish line arch came into view and when I got within a few strides, I raised my hatchet high above my head and let out a nonverbal vocalization. Argh!! Finish!

Somehow, once again, running hard the next day was feasible and maybe even helped my legs feel normal faster. It’s kind of unreal. The Wildman Challenge is so goofy and weird and fun and I love it so much. I was happy to get knighted and collect another arrowhead for my collection – now with three 100k/10k finishes, and two 50k/half marathon finishes. Everything about the experience is fantastic. It was enjoyable to sip coffee and sip beer with lots of friends, and I hung around the 10k/half finish for a while just soaking in the day.

This sequence had happened before – Wild Duluth ends up being a late season addition to my race schedule, then goes perhaps better than any other race of the whole year. Then I shut it down hard. Regardless of the pattern, it was certainly satisfying to get the finishes (100k especially) after the frustrating, mentally challenging DNF at Superior. I don’t know what the future holds for me. Probably some ultramarathon trail running.

Race Results

GPS Data

Time: 1:00:37
Place: 4/135
Pace: 9:46

Shoes: Mizuno Hayate size 12