Some assert that the path to Heaven lies through Hell. After my initial attempt at the Superior Trail 100, I held this belief. The course encompasses both serene and challenging sections, and the latter are indispensable for personal growth. While I only managed to complete 77 miles on this occasion, I can confidently claim to have traversed the entire course during a race since finishing the 50-mile race last year.
Both physical and emotional challenges characterized my 77-mile journey. It was both arduous and rewarding, supported by a network of volunteers, and imbued with a profound sense of significance. The experience pushed me to my limits. Upon returning home, my girlfriend’s daughter inquired about the source of my pained expression. This prompted a moment of introspection. Although I may not possess a definitive explanation, I felt compelled to share my thoughts before commencing my report.
In 2005, my physician advised me to adopt healthier habits following a significant weight gain that reached nearly 300 pounds. Amidst these circumstances, I had experienced the end of my relationship, a broken foot, and the independence of my son, who no longer required transportation. Despite these setbacks, I had been maintaining an active lifestyle and had recently completed my 21st Grandma’s Marathon. While I was aware that I could complete the race at my current weight, I recognized the need for a new and demanding challenge.
In a shared experience of uncertainty, I encountered a friend who, like me, embarked on a challenging journey. We dedicated ourselves to rigorous training, striving to complete a grueling 50-mile race on the Superior Trail. My training regimen was meticulously structured, with a clear objective in mind. Regrettably, an unfortunate accident claimed the life of my friend, leading to a temporary halt in my weight loss and training endeavors.
Despite the setback, I maintained a steady pace, commencing my weight loss journey at 214 pounds and reaching 223 pounds before completing my inaugural 50-mile race in 2006. The race was conducted with caution, and I emerged with a sense of accomplishment. This positive experience prompted me to consider the 100-mile race and register for it, setting my sights on this new challenge.
However, my weight experienced a temporary increase, reaching 247 pounds before subsequently dropping to 237. While I had made significant progress, I recognized that the road to my goal was still arduous.
On September 7, 2007, I awoke in my motel room at 4:45 AM, greeted by the incessant sound of rain. The challenging trail conditions cast a shadow over my apprehension. By 6:00 AM, the radar forecast improved my outlook for the subsequent 38 hours. As I consumed my breakfast, a sense of doubt crept into my mind. My initial aspiration was to shed 100 pounds before the race, but my progress had only yielded 84 pounds. Furthermore, I had gained 17 pounds since the 50-mile race, which I anticipated would complicate matters. Nevertheless, I remained resolute in my determination to persevere.
We arrived at Gooseberry Falls at 7:20 AM, preparing for the race with a composed demeanor. My thoughts were preoccupied with global affairs, running, and other pressing matters. In a moment of distraction, I rushed to the restroom for a final indoor restroom break. While using the restroom, I inadvertently dropped a race number pin. The recent news concerning MSP and solicitation heightened my concerns about the potential consequences of retrieving the pin, and a law enforcement officer occupied the stall adjacent to me.
In a moment of clarity, I retrieved the pin and returned to reality. However, my attention was diverted. As I reached the starting line, I inadvertently deviated from the designated path and found myself too far on the trail. Larry promptly called us back for the race’s commencement, prompting me to return to the designated area.
The race commenced with a gentle rain. I ran alone on the trail, preoccupied with the prospect of completing the race. My stride and breathing felt uncomfortable, and my mind was unfocused. After approximately five miles, I encountered a seasoned runner from Kansas City, and my apprehension began to subside. My friend joined Julie Berg and her group, but I was aware that the veterans would eventually catch up.
I continued my run with Philip Smith for a few miles. After consuming a Clif Block, I discovered a substantial portion of my crown embedded in the gel. I removed it, inspected the damage, and resumed my run while placing it in a baggie with my toilet paper. The damage was limited to the adhesive, causing no discomfort, but chewing would be challenging during the race.
At the race’s commencement, I carried two small bottles—one containing protein and the other electrolytes—until mile six, when my crew was scheduled to meet me with a camelback of plain water. I had planned to carry a water-filled camelback and one bottle of each supplement. However, my crew was absent at the designated location. This unexpected turn of events further compounded my perplexity—first, I had a broken tooth, and now my crew was missing. I concluded that it would be more advantageous to run alone, so I overtook Philip and continued my solo journey.
My crew (Shelley) arrived at the first aid station just in time. My 72-ounce Camelbak ensured the race’s success. Many dedicated individuals organize this race with enthusiasm and support, but their efforts often go unnoticed. We must adopt a different approach to ensure the continuation of this event, and we can participate and excel thanks to their contributions.
I promptly packed and continued my journey, optimizing time at each aid station. As I continued, I contemplated potential challenges, which fueled my determination to complete the race. I felt stronger and more optimistic, and I deeply appreciated the trail experience. I established a routine, taking Advil and supplements, hydrating, and consuming food, meticulously monitoring my intake.
Sarah Hughes and I met approximately 24 miles into our run and began running together. We engaged in conversations about our friends, families, and running experiences. These ultrarunners exude positivity and confidence, making them excellent companions. This is likely due to the release of endorphins.
During our trek to Silver Bay, we encountered experienced finishers Deb M. and her uncle Al. We mutually decided to stay with them or with each other, vice versa. As evening descended, I desired to spend time with them. Our run progressed smoothly, with regular stops at aid stations. Sarah had a pacer at County Road 6, and we connected with Casey Lopez. Deb, Al, and Casey’s narratives on the trail were both humorous and inspiring, making night running feel effortless.
Everything went smoothly until Deb and I both fell. The pain was brief, but we were otherwise unharmed. Later, we encountered a long, dark boardwalk at night. I walked ahead, apprehensive because I could only see water, not the wooden planks beneath it. Heavy rain flooded the boards, and by the time we reached a lake, they were gone. I still believed Alfred and the others were nearby, so I continued moving ahead. It was simply flowing water where the boards had been. That moment made my heart race.
Upon arriving in Finland at approximately 12:45 AM, slightly later than anticipated, I experienced a sense of well-being. After consuming sustenance and replenishing my energy, I felt a sense of accomplishment, having been two hours and fifteen minutes ahead of the scheduled cut-off time. However, I inadvertently neglected to change my wet shoes, which proved to be a significant oversight.
Refueling, we embarked on our journey, but my first mistake was not changing my footwear. Within a short distance, a blister developed on my left foot. At the subsequent aid station, the blister had grown to the size of a baseball on my foot and a quarter on the side. I promptly changed my socks, drained the blister, applied tape to my feet, and continued my progress.
Despite the presence of blisters, I remained resolute in my running regimen. As I navigated the trail with my headlamp, I inadvertently struck a low-hanging branch. Upon checking for blood, I observed only a small red scratch on my finger. Undeterred, I continued my run, maintaining focus on my feet, the discomfort in my head, and the growing fatigue. In my haste, I neglected my nutritional and hydration needs, stopping at the Crosby Aid station to discover that I had consumed minimal food and that my water bottle and CamelBak were full. Hours passed without any intake of food or drink, and I pushed forward, deviating from my pre-race plan. The blisters on my feet continued to worsen due to the prolonged exposure to wet clothing.
The subsequent section is crucial for individuals attempting to complete the 100-mile race. The ascent around the 64-mile mark offers a delightful experience. However, the segment between the 62-mile and 67-mile markers presents the most formidable challenge of this course. I will refrain from elaborating on this aspect further.
Anticipating the race, I reached mile 72 and discovered that there was no availability of fluids or food. Five hours of inadequate nutrition and hydration had left me in a state of severe dehydration. Promptly addressing the blisters on my feet, I drained and taped them despite the intense pain. Determined to complete the race and secure the coveted jacket, I remained steadfast in my pursuit.
Exhausted, dehydrated, and with sores in my mouth and swollen hands, I collapsed at mile 74. After two grueling hours, I dragged myself to the 77-mile station, where Don Clark greeted me with encouragement. Despite considering seeking medical attention, I realized that I was beyond recovery. Tears streamed down my face as I took down my number, only to be showered with praise and support from Scott, Pierre, and many others.
After writing this, my girlfriend’s daughter inquired, “Why?” I explained that I admire organizers, volunteers, and participants—friendly, supportive, confident, and joyful individuals who recognize life’s objectives and aspirations. In 2005, my goal was to lose 100 pounds and run 100 miles. This race is an integral part of my journey to happiness, health, and fulfillment. Ironically, I experienced a significant setback after mile 72 and limped to mile 77. Perhaps this is a divine sign encouraging me to achieve my goal of losing 100 pounds for 100 miles. Inspired by this experience, I intend to return in 2008 with enhanced knowledge and 26 pounds lighter, prepared to attain my objectives.
Thanks to all.
Good night.
Carry on my friends, carry on!
Comments from my original blog - I merged the blogs.
Londell,
Be proud of your accomplishment!! There's no need to think that the original 100-mile goal was not reached. We are proud of your completing 77 miles!!! Wow!!!!
Marilyn
Going 77 miles on those trails (or even on the flat) is an incredible feat! Good job!
Eric Berg
Oh my god, you are AMAZING...what determination. Good job on your fantastic achievement! :)
Rose Ackerman
It is wonderful to know you have completed 77 miles, that is fantastic!!! Take care of your blisters and ensure they heal well before putting more stress on them.
Lori
Finishing 77 miles is certainly a success story. Way to go!
Janine Hill
Good job, Londell. It's crazy from my perspective, but congrats!
Lynn Moore
Environmental Health Manager
Congratulations!!!! I think 77 miles is outstanding. You should be very proud.
Carol Pelzel
You are crazy, but I think you should definitely feel extremely proud of the run you completed. Nice work
Eileen O’Connell
WOW!! That's really great!! I am really proud of you for going the distance. I hope the pain is not too great.
Julie Schowalter
You are amazing...I don't know how you do it.
Koko Ponce
You did more than finish. I can't imagine this at all. I thought of you Friday night and wondered how far you had gone by then. Congratulations!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Deb Smith
Hay hay! Hip Hip Hoorah!
Way to go, Londell, on your 77-mile adventure. It sure beats working, doesn't it! Do you want me to send you some bubble wrap for your feet? Ha Ha Ha. Oow. Good luck with your blister recovery.
Connie
Well, Congrats, man. It's a pretty great accomplishment. Next Year?
Erik S
I love your attitude and spirit! Congrats on the 77 miles. I hope your pain level subsides soon. Have a good one.
Andrea C
Oh my God!!!! You should be ecstatic with yourself. I can't believe you did what you did. I would have quit when faced with having to drain the blisters the first time! Don't walk around too much today. Have Cyndi wait for you, hand and foot. I'm sure she won't mind, haha. But seriously, you did well and should not look at it as a DNF, but look at what I did!
Let me know if you need more Band-Aids. I think I could probably find some over here! Great job, you crazy person!
Andy
A job well done! 77 miles is nothing to scoff at! You should be very proud of your accomplishment - not very many people can say that they have run that distance in a little over one day! Way to go!!! And I am also very happy that you didn't break anything!
Becky
You get an "A+" for effort.
Robert G. Servian
Thanks for the running update. Congratulations on running 77 miles—that is an amazing accomplishment! I hope your feet have a speedy recovery.
Thanks, Tom A.
Wow ! Very impressive! I can't believe you ran that much farther with those blisters! 77 miles is a great accomplishment. How did you run into a tree? LOL! Sorry to hear about your crown. I hope they can put it back on, as new ones cost around $950.
Way to go !!
Jan R.
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