Marji Gesick 100

📷:  Rob Meendering

Driving back home over the course of 2 days gave me time to process what happened on Saturday.  I will say that I am in a better place now than at the finish Saturday night. I had great expectations for my 7th Marji.  While I had no illusions of grandeur, I did think that I could approach my 2019 finishing time of 14:26. What I ended up with was 16:07 and a broken spirit, vowing that I was done with this one, the 1000 mile buckle be damned!

The day started out spectacularly.  Perfect weather with a starting temperature of 50 degrees.  No rain the night before and the trails were bone dry. Lisa dropped me off at the start, as she was not racing this year. I had a great leg opener the day before checking out Flow, Gurly, and Doctors. I was racing my Trek Super Caliber 2nd gen, with a 30T chain ring and Bontrager 2.4 XR4's. My nutrition plan was simple:  Skratch High Carb in my USWE pack, a bottle of LMNT, and a flask of Torq gel.  Plan was 250-300 calories per hour.

After the electric guitar version of the Star Spangled Banner, we were off on the 0.6 mile run.  I took it easy, this being my warm up, and just trying to avoid getting my shoes knocked off or twisting an ankle.  Five minutes later I was on my bike, racing through the Forestville ski trails.  Not wanting to burn any matches here, I bided my time and only made passes when they were quick and efficient.  Top O The World was the usual parking lot, so I HAB'd down the left-hand side, passing 12 racers in the process. As I made my way over to Rickles, traffic began to thin out.  Riding in my own little bubble, I made quick work of a dry and fast Rickles, my favorite Forestville Trail.

Entering Ramblin Man, I was 1 hour 49 minutes into the race; right where I wanted to be. I got caught behind a racer through the berms and was biding my time to make the pass.  However, he got jammed up on a rock at the entrance to Wildcat. In order for me not to slam into him, I had to take a less than ideal line, and ended up turtling on a rock slab. I did lose some skin in the process and felt some warmth run down my leg as I continued through WildCat.  Looking down at my leg when the trail eased up a bit, I had a nice river of blood getting soaked up by my sock.  Fortunately it was just a flesh wound and I quickly forgot about it.

As I entered Pine Knob, I lost traction on the first little grunty climb, and dismounted.  Two steps later and my right shoe loosened up. I went to tighten the Boa and nothing happened because the cable had snapped. No worries, as I unwrapped some duct tape from by air pump and fixed the issue. Once I got going again, I felt the PK flow and ended up with my second fastest time on this trail.

I felt good on the remaining trails over to Lowe's and ended up at my 30 mile resupply point in 3:28, about 10 minutes off my 2019 pace.  I took about a 3 minute pit stop to refill my pack, bottle, and swap gel flasks.  I had emptied all 3 containers, therefore getting in the necessary calories.  I took a 1/2 a PayDay bar to enjoy on the IOHT.

The South Trails were primo!  I was enjoying every single bit of them, even the climb on Smiley's. Gone was Eh Line and instead Flow was in its place. Way better and more fun IMO. I was glad I had pre ridden, because it was spicy! Rough Rock Ridge is also one of my favorites in this area, as it flows well.  There was a slight difference in the approach around the South Trails TH, taking out the beginning of Gurly, which was always a short but sketchy descent.

I remember way back when I first started racing how Gurly and Doctor's was SO HARD, technically speaking.  Now I just ride them without so much of an afterthought.  And today was one of those days, as I was feeling good and the legs responded when I asked them to.  The Marquette Mountain climb was also not a problem; the dirt had enough moisture that it was hard packed and tacky.  And then my absolute favorite trail of the whole course ... Scary! Of course, there was a traffic jam of walkers, so I had to take a less than ideal line.  The photographer there yelled out a "hell yeah" as I cleaned that tricky section.

📷:  Rob Meendering

Not sure if this was where the first fake checkpoint was, but at the intersection of Scary and Not So Scary, which was on a fairly steep climb, there be the pumpkin,  And, of course, it was empty.  It was fun getting back started on that steep ass climb.

The climb up Zueg's sucked no more than usual, but Above Grade was a joy to climb.  I don't believe I have ever ridden this trail dry.  Today it was just that and although still very technical with its narrowness, big boulders and super exposed roots, I enjoyed getting to ride most of it, save for a couple of spots where the reward was not worth the risk, as in star-fishing off the side and down into the rocky ravine, like one of my students did at Marji camp back in June.

Old Camp Ridge and Rough Rock Ridge is where the roots began to really get bothersome.  I began to wonder if Todd and Danny had thrown out a bag of root seeds and then watered them with Miracle Grow.  The ORV trails were not too sandy; better than I expected for being so dry. But the headwind on the IOHT cancelled out any gains that I may have made on the ORV section. 

I rolled into Jackson Park at 3:35 pm.  I was a little disappointed because, as good as I felt through out those first 69 miles, I was 18 minutes off my expected pace. Lisa and Chris were there and helped me to refill my nutrition.  I ate a Honey Stinger waffle and another part of a PayDay. I had drained my USWE pack, about 2/3 of my LMNT bottle, and all of my gel flask. I changed into my spare pair of shoes and packed more duct tape, just in case. And then I dropped my pants and applied more Chamois Butt'r ... for all the world to see! On the way out, I stopped at the porta john and emptied my bladder, the one and only time I would do all day.

I saw Roy Kranz on Mill Street.  As I yelled out to my favorite duathlete, he responded that he was going to walk the whole run section and still buckle.  And indeed he did, finishing in just the nick of time. Halfway up Fenceline was where the first checkpoint was.  I grabbed a token and placed it in my zippered jersey pocket.  And then from there pushed on. The second real checkpoint (I think -- there were so many fake ones, I could be wrong about this one) was on Bacon Strip, right at the bottom of the wooden ramp descent.

I was still feeling pretty decent going up Last Bluff.  I did welcome the flat pavement pedaling after that, even though it went within 50 yards of the finishing line.  The music, the announcer calling out finishers, and the smell of pizza made no difference. I saw a deer on the Deer Shit Trail ... go figure.  But what purpose does the middle section of that trail even serve?!?  All I could envision on that rock rollover, as I HAB'd down it, was an ankle or knee exploding on the moon dust covered rock.  I felt bad for the rookies, without much HAB experience, as I could see how scary that must be try to negotiate, especially at night. 

Towards the end of this loop, I could feel the fatigue monster begin to bear down upon me.  Sissy Pants was more of a struggle than usual, as well as the Hamptons.  However, the young kid (with his Dad) towards the upper part of Hamptons inspired me.  I fist bumped him as I rode past; I do hope he finished!  The end of this loop was slightly different than last year;  and I flew by the turn, getting in some bonus climbing on the way back up.

I rolled back to my pit where Lisa and Chris were waiting.  That loop took 3 hours 46 minutes; 30 minutes longer than 2019 ... meh.  I drank most of my Skratch High Carb, but failed at consuming my LMNT, only 1/3 of the bottle.  And I had only taken in 1/2 of my gel flask. I ate another waffle while Lisa was putting my light/battery on my helmet.  

It was 7:30 pm and darkness was falling when I rolled out for the last 20 miles.  As I began the climb up Dirty Mary, the dark thoughts began to enter my mind.  I was already wishing for Cry Baby.  My legs and vestibular system began to shut down.  I turned my light on towards the top, although it didn't seem to help.  It was as if my eyes could not process my world which had suddenly gone two-dimensional. 

All the trails seemed to blur together into one million climbs interspersed with descents that my brain could not process and send the right signals to my body in order to safely ride down.  I clipped/unclipped so many times that my right ankle hurt like a grade 1 sprain.

My thoughts got darker as time wore on.  Normally I can shake them, but the only thing that helped was seeing those who I had coached at Marji camp.  Knowing that they too, were suffering, I then punched the monkey on my back, subduing him for a few minutes, so that I could give words of encouragement to my peeps, which then helped me to get back on track and focus.

I don't even remember riding the trail around Lake Sally and by the time I was pushing my bike up the double track rock slab, I was thinking I may have gotten off course and missed that section. I thought 38 Special was Cry Baby and that I was almost finished. It was not until the stupid climbing on Old 56 that I figured out where I was and what I still had to do to get out of these damn woods!

At this point, with about 5 miles to go, I told myself that just get to that finish and you don't have to do this race ever again.  And what's so special about that 1000 mile buckle ... not a damn thing!  I have never had such negativity enter my brain, even when I was sick with Covid at Breck Epic and pushing my bike up Wheeler Pass, trying not to pass out.

In year's past, when I have finally gotten to Jasper Knob, I could always find enough in my tank to pedal that climb.  Not tonight.  I pushed most of the way and grabbed my final token.  There was a Marji arrow pointing to the left above the pumpkin.  With the kind of shit Todd has pulled in the past, I walked over to the far left of the knob and shined my light ... just in case there was some additional fuckery going on. 

I rolled through the finish line at 11:36, 16 hours and 7 minutes after my journey began.  I really had no emotion; I was shelled and just thankful to have it in my rear view mirror.  I was disappointed in my performance, especially the last 20 miles, which took an hour longer than my 2019 time. I told Lisa that I was done with Marji, to which she immediately responded, "give it some time; you will change your mind."

And so I thought that this was my last Marji, beginning the drive home Sunday morning.  I didn't think I had the mental fortitude to do 3 more hundreds and 1 more 50, what I need to get that 1000 mile buckle.  This year's race, despite great course conditions and weather, was the hardest one ever.  How could I possibly do 3 more of these, knowing how exponentially difficult each successive one will potentially be?  Yes, I try to think of myself as 55 years young, as I have the heart and mind of a 30 year old, but my body often times thinks otherwise.

After a 10 hour day of driving and another 10 hours of really good sleep, I got back on the road for another 7 hours to the house.  During Sunday's drive, angry, frustrated Carey changed back into the #finishwhatyoustart Carey. 

Things I learned during my 2 day drive back home:

    1.  Comparison is the thief of joy, even when you are comparing your former self.

    2.  I need to get back on a structured plan for Marji ... no more winging it.  I just don't do well with self-coaching.

    3. Your nutrition plan only works if you stick to it.  I failed on the last 20 miles, only consuming 400-500 calories.

    4. Don't expect to be a fast night rider if you never practice it.  What I have discovered about me as I have aged is that my reaction time between what my eyes see, how my brain processes that, and how the body reacts has slowed down considerably. 

    5. Accept that you won't be as fast as your 40 year old self, but challenge your 56 year old self to be as fit, fast, and technically proficient as you possibly can.

    6. HTFU!

    

I immediately texted my #dohardthings buddy Lisa and told her that God willing, in 5 years we are gonna tackle the out and back together.  That, with a few Marji 50's, will get me that elusive 1000 mile buckle.  And there won't be a better way to retire from Marji than finishing that f*cker at 60 years young!

It was inspiring to see all Marji Camp Group 11 peoples out there, finding and crushing their limits.  The number of support crew offering up their help was astronomical;  it had to be a 3:1 ratio of support peeps to racers. 

Thanks to Lisa, Chris, and Jayden for their support, way on into the night time hours.  It meant a lot to me.

Thanks to Todd and the whole 906 Adventure Crew.  Even though you make life so much fucking harder, with it comes the reward of self esteem, confidence, and a longer health span.

AFI for 2025!  And beyond.

Marji Gesick 100 Race Report

 

📷: Rob Meendering

Racing is hard, life is harder.  If it wasn't, it wouldn't be worth living.

Taking this straight from Todd Poquette's (MG race director) mouth: 

"Now that I've had some time to decompress. I witnessed a lot of #finisher stories come to a conclusion this year after several (or more) years of defeat. One guy, after getting his #finisher token, broke down and cried at the finish line. Hard shit is hard. I shouldn't have to say that, but I do. We need to do hard shit - there's no way around it. It's not a box you check and move on... it becomes part of the fabric of your life. To the extent that every day when you wake up... you know you're gonna do some hard shit... regardless of whether you feel like it or have time. You make it fucking happen. It's a lifestyle. It's a commitment.

To do the hardest stuff, you have to be willing to be vulnerable. Ya gotta be willing to let the experience crack you and let those doubts, excuses, narratives, and emotions spill out. You have to put yourself in the crucible and grind everything down until the only thing you're left with is the willingness to do whatever it takes... in all aspects of your life.

I talk about the 25-Hour Mindset at Marji Camp. Most people are not willing to go that far - at least not at first. They nod their head and agree, but they don't really mean it. They can't comprehend it. They have no point of reference. They're unprepared, and that inevitable lesson is the first hurdle they have to get over. Tending to the bruised ego. I've seen it a thousand times. Person signs up and thinks they're big shit. Person shows up and quits. That's an eye-opening experience for ya. Some don't come back, unable to overcome the initial defeat. Others take that defeat and pin it to a bulletin board and look at it every day until they finish what they started - whether it takes two years, three, four, seven, or more.

On Friday night and Saturday morning, there were a few people I told, "I don't wanna see you, hear from you, and sure as the hell not get a damn text from you until you finish." Each of them has been on a multi-year Marji journey. Most of them finished for the first time this year. Incredible. After dark Saturday night, around 10:00pm, I asked Sam how many people we still had on course, he told me it was more than 400. All through the night, hundreds of people fought with themselves and the course, hoping to find their limits and the finish line. I find this very promising. I find it promising that we had a lively finish line full of people, energy, and emotion well past 5:00am. I find it promising that this event can bring people together the way it does.

I'll close with this. Sometimes, a person comes into your life with no real intention other than to make you better. Those people can be difficult to be around because they constantly challenge you. They make you deal with your shit. They call you out. They won't let you quit. They tend to be a little combative and abrasive. You want those people in your life. You need them. Don't push them away if you have them. They want the best for you, and when you don't demand it from yourself, they demand it from you."

That's Marji Gesick.

This was my 7th time at Marji.  I initially had signed up for the duathlon again, but after I tore my MCL in April, I was unable to do any run training, so I switched to the bike. The injury opened up an opportunity I had been chewing on for the past couple years: SSingleSSpeed! After talking with the Michigan ladieSS about gearing, I opted for a 30 x 22.

Once again I had the wonderful support of Lisa's husband, Chris, and her father-in-law, Rudi. The night before, we gathered in the living room to go over crewing duties.  My needs were rather simple: bottle hand offs at pre-determined locations and drop my aid boxes at Jackson Park.  Lisa's instructions were a little more ... needy 😉.

At least a 15 minute dissertation

Racing is a whole lot easier than crewing in the Randall household

Mother Nature gave us spectacular weather.  Every year, it always seems to rain the evening/night before.  No rain the day before OR the day of.  Cloudy, with temps ranging from 55-65 degrees during the day, dropping to 50° at night.

There were six of us ladies in the singlespeed class, the most ever.  I have a lot of respect for them and have Jenny Acker to thank for getting me to commit.  Last year, during the running portion of my race, Jenny came upon me, all smiles and encouragement.  Here she was, 16+ hours into the race and still having fun!

📷: Rob Meendering. Mariah, me, Christina, Kristen, Jenny, and Jill

The race starts out with a 0.6 mile run.  My only goal was to not get run over or have someone step on my shoe and pull it off.  Four minutes later and I was on my bike.  My gearing allowed me to slowly warm up over the "easier" miles at Forestville.  I also got to hang with Jill and Hannah a little bit, until our gearing led us off at different speeds.

Top O' the World was a mess of riders/walkers, so I chose to HAB down the rocky descent, passing at least 10 people in the process.  While I have ridden this in year's past, today was just not worth the risk, and actually quicker to run it. 

The techy bits around Harlow Lake were the driest I have ever seen it, making forward progress much easier.  I suppose my only regret in running this gear, was that I got behind a considerable amount of slower racers, that made it a little more difficult to hit the "lines" at a speed I needed to get through with minimal effort.  But having known this was a potential, I did not get frustrated. My goal this year was simply to finish and enjoy every last bit of trail.  My mindset was about experiencing the adventure and not chasing the clock. For that very reason, I had my Garmin on the GPX track only; I did not want to know what time it was or how far I had gone.

It doesn't get much better than this!

Coming back through Forestville, I grabbed a bottle from Chris and then set off, knowing Pine Knob was looming.  But first, to enjoy the flowy trails of Ramblin' Man and Wildcat.  Pine Knob has no flow, and with punchy climbs and treacherous descents, I wisely checked my ego and ran quite a bit.  You can't finish the race if your body or bike is broken.

Blue Heron, Collinsville, Peter's Sandbox, and Silver Lead were where I was wishing for a harder gear.  So I just focused on spinning smoothly at a very high cadence.  Lowe's was so dry and so rideable.  But day-um, the Sandbox was stupidly soft and deep, even hard to walk in.

I swapped both bottles out at the second SAG stop, around mile 30.  From here, I found free trail along the Iron Ore Trail as I was either coasting or spinning my brains out.  It did allow me the chance to take in some solid food. Just before the Harlow Farms connector trail, a young fella ripped by me and got to the single track first.  No worries as he was on gears and so speedy, I wouldn't see him again, so I thought.  But then, I was right on his wheel. Not sure what his game plan was, but to me it appeared to be send it on the rail trails and party pace the single track. His tires were also making an annoying sound, similar to Sponge Bob Square Pants' boots.  Was he running inserts that was causing that noise?  Not being able take the speed nor the noise any longer, I asked to get around.  I thought for sure he would pass me again on the West Grove pavement section, but I never saw him again ... whew!

The remainder of the South Trail system seemed to fly by as I was feeling really good. Rough Rock Ridge had some trail love in the past year; might have to rename it as it was smooth and fast!

I passed through the South Trails pavilion without stopping, although that place seemed to be rocking with aid for everyone!  Next up was Gurly ... ughh!  The lead up to the treacherous descent I just did not have the torque to get up, which put me off my game for attempting the descent.  It also appeared to be a little blown out by all the other racers, so once again I played it safe.  Once over the gnarliest portion, the rest was enjoyable, as well as Doctor's. Marquette Mountain gravel climb I alternated between walking and riding.  Scary is probably my favorite trail in the race.  My lizard brain caused me to dab, but I was able to finish out that first difficult section without issue.

Zuegg's is normally only a downhill trail, but for Marji, we get the pleasure of riding up it.  I like it this way; it is one of the very few climbs that I could settle into on the single speed.  There are several sketchy spots (think rolling down off the mountain if you lose your balance on some of the rock armored sections, but it is mostly rideable up.

At the top of Zuegg's, I came across the first check point.  I stopped to reach in and grab a token, but no tokens were to be found.  Instead there was candy, about a thousand fireballs.  I grabbed two, putting each of them in a different spot, one in my zippered pocket on my bike jersey and the other one in my Mountain Feedbag on my bike.  Insurance!

After bouncing down Easy Rider, I rolled into the parking lot at Marquette Mountain (mile 51), met my crew, and swapped bottles.  The skies were clouding up and looked potentially like rain, but Chris assured me no precipitation was seen in the forecast.

Off Grade has got to be my least favorite trail.  It is hard enough to find a rhythm on a full suspension geared bike, let alone on my single speed.  Off and on, off and on, I worked my way up to Pipe Dreams where I got a nice respite on wide, smooth trail.  But then the jack hammering started on Old Camp Ridge; I started to feel some numbness in my palms, more of a nuisance than anything.

Then came the never ending snowmobile trails.  Fortunately they were in the best shape I have ever seen them, making for a few more free miles.  A checkpoint warning sign came up and then the trail descended steeply, which was super fun, until I blew by the actual checkpoint.  Of course, it would be placed on this sweet descent.  I put my bike down and walked back up to the checkpoint, which was about 10 yards up a bushwhacked trail.  When I finally reached it, the bucket was empty, with a Just Kidding note inside.  I could only laugh at these shenanigans.

Mean, just mean!

The next 9 miles were free ones.  Going into this stretch knowing I was gonna be under geared, I had grabbed at the last SAG stop two egg/rice burritos I had made.  I had plenty of time to eat 600 calories and let it begin to digest before I got to Jackson Park.  I also took a pee break at the rest room located on the Iron Ore Trail.

Spin to Win!

Arriving at Jackson Park, Chris and Rudi were there.  I swapped bottles, grabbed some more nutrition, and with nothing more left to do, headed out into RAMBA land.  With renewed energy from the burritos and the incredibly slow spin to JP, I was ready to hammer again. Riding this loop, I felt like I was in a kickboxing match.  So many twists, turns, punchy climbs, and steep descents, my legs were getting worked over hard.  It felt like I was either at power level 1 (recovery) or level 6 (anaerobic).

I started to come upon runners and 50 mile bikers, so many of which were women.  It was inspiring to see so many ladies out there.  Everyone was so polite, but the cyclists did seem to be happier than the runners.  I shouted out encouragement to everyone, as I knew they were fighting their own demons.

Last Bluff flowed well, Deer Shit not so much, and not even Sissy Pants could make me cry for my Mommy, as I knew the loop's end was near.  The next checkpoint was just after Sissy Pants and it was here that the pumpkin was full of Dum Dum's.  Do I sense irony?  Once again, I grabbed two, for good measure.

Headed up the Hampton's, I noticed a couple fellas, with dum dum sticks in their mouths pedal by me. But that's ok, because they have MIPS helmets 😄😄😄.  Now I know my mother never let me run (or bike) around with a sucker stick in my mouth ... just sayin.'

Coming off the last descent of this loop, I made a mental checklist of what I needed at my SAG stop. When I rolled in (mile 91), I put my light on my helmet,  took another pee break/Chamois Butt'r reapplication, swapped bottles, and grabbed a waffle and a shot block.  It was here that I finally looked at what time it was ... 7:50pm.

Riding off to start the final leg, I was getting a little chilled.  Not that it was cold, but that I was feeling the fatigue monster.  It also felt like someone swapped my cog and made it 2 gears harder. I had to turn my light on when I hit Dirty Mary.  Even though both this trail and the following, the Luge Run constantly climbing, at least they looked flat, and I just kept it one pedal stroke at a time.  As long as I didn't look up and see the string of lights high above me!

Grandview was another trail that tried to demoralize me.  I think the rocks grow at night, as I did not remember this one being so difficult.  AM-FM was where the next checkpoint was; once again I grabbed two Dum Dum's.  

After this, it seemed that the remainder of the course was all climbing.  And the further along I got, the slicker the rocks and roots became.  I stopped twice where people had set up aid stations and grabbed a banana each time.  I had barely touched my drinks and my food.  At this point, my stomach had shut the door and I was ready to be done.

Old 56 just about broke me; such insane grades and my glutes were screaming.  My butt usually does not get sore, but I suppose it had something to do with the many dismounts/remounts as well as more time spent HAB'ing.  I was never so happy to see Cry Baby!

The usual finish off Cry Baby down to Bluff Street had to be re routed due to a sink hole on Bluff in that area.  So instead of a final descent down to pavement, I found myself doing a 180 and climbing right back up that shit I had just descended.  And that final descent down to Hill Street was sketcy AF! Probably a good thing my night vision isn't that good.

Over and up Jasper Knob to grab the final Dum Dum.  And then a final easy spin/coast to the finish.  I arrived just past midnight and the number of people lining the chute and beating on the boards to rally me in was icing on the cake.  What a fantastic journey!  16 hours, 35 minutes. By no means my fastest, but hands down my second favorite Marji (the first being my very first one in 2016).

I pulled out my fire ball and 3 Dum Dum's and presented them to the "token" checker.  I didn't even realize the Dum Dum sticks were different colors. I was handed my wooden tokens. Todd greeted me and handed me a dollar bill as I was the first female single speeder.  

My biggest take aways from racing this on my single speed were that I found 17 "free" miles and it allowed me to focus less on pushing hard all the time and more on enjoying my surroundings.

Thanks Todd and Danny for creating this unique event and allowing me to continue to #dohardthings and #findnewlimits.  Even though I am a #finisher, I still have #unfinishedbusiness.  About 250 miles, to be exact.

Let the training for 2024 commence, once I feel human again.

Marji Gesick Duathlon Race Report: Part 1, The Bike

 

As I awaited the 7:30 am start amidst 500+ like-minded fools, I thought about how I got to this very moment.  I had already finished three 100's (more like 105) and one 50 (actually 62). After the 50 last year, I thought I was done. The closest I came to buckling the 100 was in 2016.  I attempted 2 more times, but my finishing times kept getting longer, partly due to the course getting harder (and longer) and me getting older.  I accepted the fact that a buckle was out of reach, but then I heard news of a 1000 mile buckle ... 🤔.  And then a week after the 50, Lisa (who had buckled the duathlon in 2021) planted a seed when she said she thought I could buckle the duathlon.  At first I hysterically laughed and immediately shrugged it off.  I thought a half-marathon was hard, so putting 3 of them together after a 65 mile bike was just insane.  But that damn buckle haunted every waking moment, until I finally said f*ck it!  I am going to give this duathlon a go.  What have I got to lose?  If worse came to worse, I could always switch over to the bike only format.

And so, here I stood, awaiting the start of the bike, only fearing the uncontrollable. The body and mind were ready to go to places so dark, it would make a black hole look bright.  I had 22 hours to finish it to get the buckle and 25 hours before I would be DQ'd. I planned on riding the 65 miles conservatively to decrease the risks of flatting or crashing, as this course eats tires and is very technical, about 95% single track.

I was a little concerned about how wet the course might be, as it had rained the day and night before.  The temperature was a pleasant 63 degrees with cloudy skies.  There was a chance of rain but not until the afternoon.  However, that chance extended on into the night.

Lisa was also doing the duathlon.  Her husband, Chris, and his parents, Rudy and Vickie, were our support crew. Her goal was to finish, buckle, and get it done under 20 hours. On our pre ride yesterday, she had asked me was I still going to finish if I couldn't buckle.  I responded with an immediate yes.

It was a LeMans start, with a 0.6 mile run.  I had my Pearl Izumi X-Alp Summit cycling shoes, which were super comfy.  I had a CamelBak Bike Vest with a 50 ounce bladder filled with Skratch and a Revelate Designs Mountain Feedbag on the bike which housed my gel flask, Honey Stinger waffles, and SaltStick Fast Chews (electrolytes).

Just before the gun went off, the Star Spangled Banner was played on an electric guitar.  This year we were not lead out by a unicorn, but by a blue haired dude on a Harley.  I managed to get close to the front to avoid getting trampled.  When the rockets were launched, the foot race began.  For once, the LeMans did not seem hard.  When I hopped on the bike, the legs were not heavy as in years past, but warmed up and ready to produce some watts.

I started off easy; my goal was to finish around the 8 hour mark.  The first few miles were relatively easy, being cross country ski trail.  I was quite surprised how dry the trail was.  All the rain had really settled the sand and it was fast. The climb up Jedi was comfortable.  Somewhere along here, Dan Weatherwax shouted out to me.  He told me what an inspiration I was to both him and his wife.  Thanks, Dan, for making one of many happy moments for me during the race.  Oftentimes, I don't know whether I inspire or scare away those from these most difficult events.

There was the usual conga line going down Top O' The World, where I passed 10 racers by HAB'ing down the far left; I probably couldn't have ridden any faster and even my ego agreed that the risk was too high to attempt to clean it on the bike.  This running thing made me pretty adept at negotiating tricky terrain. 

After the fun descent, it was on to the "ge-dunk, ge-dunk, ge-dunk" while riding the old railroad bed with ties intact for 3/4 mile. The loamy, lumpy, rooty ride on Harlow Creek and Rickles was quite pleasant and still so dry, it was hard to fathom that it had been dumping rain in the days leading up to the race. I kept my comfortable pace back to the campground and passed my crew about an hour and 50 minutes in.  Not needing any hand ups, I stopped long enough to see how far Lisa was ahead ... about 9 minutes. Good, I could continue at my pace and not put our crew in a bind being too far spaced out.

Wildcat is always fun, flowy, and fast.  Got a little too carefree and about washed out my front wheel in a berm.  Settle, I told myself.  Pine Knob was its usual ugly self, just slicker with the moist rocks. Still too many people close to me to feel comfortable riding the descents in my own little bubble, so I made the wise call and HAB'd (hike a bike) most of them.  The remainder of the trails over to Lowe's Trail (Blue Heron, Collinsville, Silver Lead) were relatively easy, which I had to be careful not to go too too hard, as I wanted to save ALL my matches for the run.  The Lowe's Trail is always an SOB, as it is uphill with steep climbs and techy features.  I got off and ran when I knew it was more efficient to do so.

And then there was The Beach ... grrrr!  I have never been a good surfer or perhaps I just don't have enough mass to keep momentum when the wheels bog down, so I did some running through this area.  Fortunately most of it was rideable, so not too much energy was wasted.  My crew was waiting for me at the 29 mile mark just before the Highway 41 underpass.  I made it here in 3 hours and 33 minutes and made up a couple minutes on Lisa.  While I stretched and ate some food, they refilled my CamelBak.

Hopping on the Iron Ore Trail, I knew to take a breather, as the trails coming up were going to be spicy.  While I was eating my waffle, I chatted briefly with Jason, who was tackling this for the first time.  He, along with another woman slowly pulled away from me.  Soon, I knew the very sharp right hand turn would come.  Normally there are people to direct you onto the trail as it is kinda hidden.  Unfortunately Josh and the woman were too far ahead to hear me yell turn right!  And they kept pedaling on down the rail trail.  I wonder how many other people made that same mistake.  This was one place where it was important to follow your GPS.

I chuckled a bit on the Greywalls Trail that, as it followed along the perimeter of the golf course, had signs, asking you to be quiet.  Smiley was a flow trail that would have been WAY better in the other direction.  Continuing the climb along Rough Rock Ridge, I had my first low point, where I felt some fatigue settling in.  I popped another electrolyte tab, allowing it to melt like a Certs in my mouth.  The simple pleasures ...

Once on Eh Line, I knew I would see my support crew soon.  I made it to South Trails in 4 hours 45 minutes, 15 minutes behind schedule.  I did not need anything, but just seeing everyone yelling for me, gave me a little shot of adrenalin.  And then there was Gurly.  The rocks had just enough moisture to make them greasy.  I decided to run a good portion of it.  I might lose a little time, but better than losing the ability to continue if I were to crash and break the body or bike.

Doctors was fun.  Being drier I felt confident in letting it go on this descent.  Even got some praise from the dudes that followed my lines down to Marquette Mountain Road.  The gravel road climb up to Scary Trail was arduous, but at least the gravel was firmly packed.  The first bit of upper Scary was slippery and I cleaned it about halfway down before my monkey brain kicked in and said, "STAAAP!"  So I did, ran a short section and then finished the remaining portion. Halfway through Scary was the first checkpoint.  I grabbed 2 tokens, putting them each in a different spot on my person.  Just a little added insurance.  Lower Scary was dry and a joy to descend.

Zueg's was the longest climb of the day at 2 miles.  And the point in the ride when I began to feel some soreness (fatigue) in the quads.  I needed to slow down, but at the same time, I needed to stay on pace. Let the mental games begin!  Once I saw Easy Rider, I knew I was close to my crew at Rippling River Campground.  BTW, Easy Rider is a chunky descent, during which I passed a dude on a bike, no helmet and sandals.  It wasn't even dark yet and the hallucinations were already starting.

As I stopped  to grab a bottle and a waffle, I hadn't lost any more time and I had gained a little on Lisa.  That was motivating, as I wasn't too far off her pace, which allowed for a little wiggle room once the run started.

I don't remember much of the next 5 miles of single track (Off Grade, Pipe Dreams, Old Camp Ridge) other than Pipe Dreams was fun and fast, just watch out for the large bolts on the pipe. And the other trails were tight, twisty, and rooty, but at least dry (in years past I remember them being as slick as snot from the rain).

Why I was expecting the ORV trails to be easy, I don't know, but I suppose this was one of my weaker moments.  A lot of ups and downs, but fortunately they were in great shape and the usual sandy hike a bike spots had been graveled and so now everything was rideable.

As I came to the Iron Ore Trail, the Banana Lady was there.  She had been at other spots previous to this, but I was wanting some real food, so stopped and ate what else, a banana.  Her name was Stephanie and she reminded me that we met last year at the finish, as she was supporting her husband on the 50.  I remembered her bawler Jeep Gladiator.  She told me that I inspired her husband to attempt the hundred this year.  Awesome.  Once again, some feel good vibes to get me through to Jackson Park.

Of course there was a head wind.  I managed to jump on a 3 person train, but only got to enjoy it for a few minutes, as it was just to fast for my barking legs.  All I thought as I made my way on this flat but slightly uphill gravel trail, was how bad I wanted to get off the bike and start running.  My other thought was thank God I was doing the Duathlon, because I didn't think I could ride the remaining miles after Jackson Park.  That's how tired my legs felt.

I rolled into Jackson Park at 3:43 pm, 8 hours and 13 minutes on the bike, 15 minutes off pace.  I had 65 miles of riding, but Lisa had a wheel sensor and got 70 miles.  Oof!  By the time I arrived , Lisa had changed into her run clothes and was slamming a can of ravioli.  Scott Morman was also there changing.  

I had a fairly quick transition, changing clothes and eating some ramen (which was the best food choice I made all day ... thanks Scott, just wish I had brought more than 2 helpings).  Transition time was 17 minutes, as I headed out for my run at 4 pm.

... to be continued.

Marji Gesick 100 Race Report

📷:  Rob Meendering

I came into this race with a pretty lofty goal:  sub 12 hours.  I planned my season around this one.  I tried to dial everything in:  training, nutrition, recovery, sleep, equipment.  I needed to be able to eek out every ounce of fitness I could.  I knew that a buckle was not probable, but I kept a healthy attitude of anything is possible.  The week leading up to the race, the weather was getting dialed in nicely: dry and mid-70's which was perfect for me.  I pre rode Gurly and Doctors on Friday and was feeling fantastic on the techy bits.  With optimal conditions and a body that was ready to rock, I had no excuses to "find my limits and destroy them."

This greeted us at the start.

It was a LeMans start:  0.5 mile run.  I placed my bike close to the start of where the bike course began.  It would be a lot easier to run a little more, making my way through 350+ bikes on foot, and not have to worry about someone trampling my bike as they ran to theirs.  I also started off in running shoes, opting to keep my feet as happy as possible, and taking a wee bit longer to transition to the bike.

The race began sharply at 7:30 am after the traditional electric guitar National Anthem.  We were led out by a unicorn. It was chaos.  I kept my feet light, hoping not to be trampled by the masses.  After the first 1/4 mile, the crowd thinned out.  I came back around on this running loop, feeling great!  Once I found my bike, I changed into my cycling shoes, put my CamelBak on, and headed out.

I was running a Garmin 830, with the screen on the map mode.  I did not want to spend my ride looking at numbers and fretting all day, so I opted to be a "free spirit" and go by PE (perceived exertion).  I have been racing long enough to know how my PE relates to heart rate and wattage.  Although the course was well signed, the trail systems were like spiderwebs.  It is easy to blast by a turn, and I did not want any "bonus" miles.

I had a great start and although I was in a conga line, it was moving at a comfortably hard pace.  Around the 4 mile mark, I felt a catch in my pedaling and then my chain completely locked up.  I could not move the pedals at all.  WTF!  I pulled off the trail and looked at my drive train.  It took me a minute to figure it out, but something had caused my chain to get jammed down between the lower pulley and the derailleur cage.  Meanwhile it felt like at least 50 racers passed me.  As I was struggling to unjam my chain, I heard someone ask, "Are you ok?"  I angrily mumbled to myself "Well if I was, I would be on my damn bike."  After what seemed like an eternity (but was probably only 60-90 seconds), I got rolling again.

But now I was in a new wave of racers, going slower than what I wanted.  "Patience, grasshopper."  From years of racing, I knew that it was gonna be a long day.  "Matchless" opportunities would arise for me to get around the slower racers.  As I was approaching the sharp left hand turn onto Jedi, which is the trail that leads to Top O' The World, a bunch of racers had overshot the turn.  Score for me!  At the Top, there were too many off their bikes walking the descent to get a clean shot (I had cleaned it at Marji Camp), so I made the wise decision to run it.  I passed 12 guys by doing this.  Another score!

The remainder of the trail around the Harlow Lake area I was a good girl.  Staying happy when sooo many people were off their bikes and hiking the rocky sections I would have preferred to ride.  Focusing on the positive:  the perfect weather, dry trail, effortless pedaling that would pay off later.  On the 1.3 mile climb back up to Forestville, I caught up to Megan Doerr.  We chatted, me momentarily, but she continued to be a babbling brook of happiness.  I was thinking about all the watts she was losing through her mouth 😁.

Once I hit the ski trail, I started catching women.  I found Lisa, who was looking strong.  She told me that there were a couple more ahead.  I slowly passed by her to reel them in.  I finally caught up to the leader (Hannah).  She gave some good words of encouragement as I went by.  On a fast two track descent I missed the right hand turn back onto single track.  Ugghh!  Lost a few places and Hannah managed to get back in front of me.

I rolled through the campground and hit Ramblin Man at full speed.  At the road crossing, a yellow jacket smacked my temple, stung me, and then crawled into my helmet.  How I managed to dislodge that little bastard before he tagged me again (and remain upright) I don't know.  At least the pain kept me on point.  I felt frisky on Wildcat, one of my faves.  It continued onto Pine Knob.  I was glad I had pre ridden this at Marji Camp.  I found my flow here and aside from the mandatory HAB sections, I cleaned ALL the descents.  (A big thank you to the frustrated racer walking down one of the descents who was making room for us riders, but voicing his opinion about the difficulty of getting off the trail for us. I saw your struggle and appreciated your sacrifice.  You have a free place to stay in Tennessee should you ever want to shred some Brappalachia trails).  

I rode up on a small train on racers on Blue Heron.  I settled in on their wheels and used this opportunity to refuel and feel the flow.  I managed to pass Hannah again, as she was taking a nature break. By the time I hit Collinsville, I was ready to get after it again, feeling the pressure to put some distance (if I could) between Hannah and I.  I made multiple easy passes and embraced the upward flow trail leading to Lowe's.  Thanks Dustin for the encouraging words out on the trail!

The Lowe's trail was a freaking blast.  In years past, it has always been a slip n slide, but today it was dry and only one short walky section.  But the ride into and through Lowe's made up for that with the super sandy double track and the nice soft grass ride into a headwind.  A Marji theme is to route you on some nasty energy sapping "trail" when a perfectly good paved road is right next to said trail. For "safety" reasons, they say ( insert eye roll).

Chris was waiting for me just after the highway culvert crossing (mile 29) near Best Buy.  I refilled my CamelBak and grabbed a Honey Stinger Waffle to go.  I rolled through the timing mat and made my way to the Iron Ore Heritage Trail (IOHT).  Here I met Timo, who introduced me as a friend of fellow Rescue Racing team mate Alan.  My, how small of a community we are!  I had a brief reprieve as I followed his wheel along the IOHT.

Along the Black Trail, I made a courteous pass around Timo, to re enter my flow state.  Time seemed to pass by effortlessly along Black, Greywalls, and Sandman, and Smiley.  The trails were hero dirt and my energy levels were good.   Eh line was meh.  I am a natural feature kind of gal and don't particularly care for these types of BMX'ish trail.  It works my quads more than I want, which probably means my form is subpar.

I rolled through the South Trails trailhead, saw Chris and grabbed another waffle and topped off my water bottle.  I proceeded on to Gurly with people shouting out my name and "go get that buckle!"  I was most appreciative and humbled that people actually knew who I was. The support along the trail so far was unbelievable!  There were pop up aid stations at least every 5 miles.  People who gave up their day and dollars to lend a helping hand.

Gurly gnar

After Gurly and Doctors, the infamous climb up to Scary began.  0.7 miles with an average grade of 11% had several off their bikes and more weaving back and forth across the road.  With my 28T chainring and pie plate in the back, it was easy peasy for me.  The one thing I hate is to be so gassed at the top of a climb that it makes the upcoming descent sketchy and dangerous.  There were a few spectators at the root-strewn off-camber rock slab, warning that it was slick.  I got a chuckle out of this because I have seen it in way worse conditions.  Today Scary was all sh!ts and giggles for me.  When I rolled by the area that had a token check point back in 2016 and 2017, I did get a little nervous not seeing anything, but figured that they had just chosen new spots for this year.

New to me New Yellow Trail rocked!  Oh the flow!  And the icing on the cake was Zueg's Trail.  OMG!  This rock lover enjoyed working her bike on this section.  My half-assed track standing skills paid off here.  Lots of work and love went into this 0.9 mile section, what with all the ramped rock features.  I got gassed on this trail as it was all climbing.

Zueg's Trail.  📷:  Jeff Carlson

Back on the New Yellow Trail over to Ezy Rider I had time to recover.  Ezy Rider was chunkier than I remembered.  I had to work hard on this descent to keep the rubber side down.  Rolling into Marquette Mountain Ski Area, I was once again greeted by Chris.  This guy ... always on point!  He had me refueled and back on course lickety split.  I was going through the fluids quicker than I expected.  Chris told me that first place was just a couple minutes ahead.  Hmmm ... I thought I was in first.  Was there someone else up ahead or had Hannah snuck on by at the last aid stop? So many people were cheering me on to catch her.  Totally amazed by all the support.

Going up Down Dogger was technically challenging.  Big boulders littered the trail and there was lots of ratcheting to avoid pedal strikes.  I must say that my instant engagement Industry 9 wheels were da bomb for this section. Once I hit Off Grade I felt the first bit of fatigue begin to sit in.  I tried to settle in and ease off the power a little now that the trail smoothed out a little.  Pipe Dreams was a hoot.  Imagine riding on top of a metal pipe with a diameter of 4 feet at 15 mph.  The trail footprint was about 18" wide and although most of the pipe was buried, it was still sketchy in a few parts.

From there Ezy Street led to about 5 miles of ORV trail.  Sandy, loose, and slightly uphill, it was a "I should be going faster than this" section.  Then on into the township of Eagle Mills where there was a mile section of slogging through sand with a perfectly good county road just 5 yards to my left.  Seriously?!?  I just kept telling myself, "not as bad as it was in 2017."

I caught the mystery woman just as I hit the IOHT.  It was Hannah.  She had stopped and got a Coke from a pop up aid station.  We formally introduced ourselves and rode together for a bit.  I took the lead on this cinder rail-trail.  From here it was a 5 mile false flat push into a headwind (of course).  I was hoping we could find some big burly powerhouses to tuck in behind, but not today.  Soon after this thought Hannah popped off my wheel and I was alone to duke it out with the winds.  Thunderstorms were in the forecast and the winds were not playing nicely.

Up until this point, I had not looked at the clock, my elapsed time, nor the distance.  I had calculated that I needed to arrive at Jackson Park by 2:15 pm in order to have a chance at a buckle.  As I approached the only official aid station, I swiped my screen and saw 3:13.  I wasn't really disappointed and quickly readjusted my goal to going for my third win.  I was still pushing a comfortably hard pace and having an absolute blast doing it.

I rolled over to where Chris was patiently waiting.  While he helped me refill my CamelBak and swap out gel flasks, I ate 2 gluten free fig bars. (For the first 65 I had consumed 100 ounces of Infinit Nutrition electrolyte/calorie mix, 30 ounces of water, 6 Hammer gels, and 2 Honey Stinger gluten free waffles.)  Another notable note is that I had not urinated since 7 am and had no urge to go.  One of my secrets to gaining some time on my competition is to turn off the plumbing.  I was back on the course in less than 2 minutes.  As I was pulling away from the tent I happened to see that Hannah had just hit the timing mat.  Good deal, I had a tiny buffer.

It was nice to hit some "flattish" trail in the beginning of this 25 mile loop as it gave my body a chance to process the 250 calories I had just wolfed down.  It was eery riding through a ghost town now swallowed up by nature.  I hit the stair case going up, which the first year I did it I thought it to be a very odd feature.  I rode on broken up sidewalks, near an old retaining wall on Humpty Dumpty, and down a 3 flight staircase.  Despite the fatigue, I was still pleased with my uphill efforts on the fence line climb and the subsequent grunty rocky and rooty sections.

Somewhere in this 25 mile loop, I came upon the first token check point.  I love the way Todd and Danny f*ck with us, labeling this as #3 on the bucket of tokens, making the rookies think twice about missing 2 check points.  My heart didn't even skip a beat.  I grabbed a second token further on in this loop as well.

The Last Bluff climb was a bugger, but I still managed to clean it all, save for one switchback, where fatigue got the better of me, and just did not have the "umph" to lift my wheel over a root and not enough forward momentum to roll it.  Past this portion of the first loop out of Jackson Park, my memory starts to get fuzzy.  After 80 miles of racing, no amount of nutrition was keeping the legs out of the "weighted blanket" fatigue zone.  I remember the subsequent climbs of BrokeBack, New York, Partridge Knob, the Hampton's, as being much harder than when I rode at Marji Camp. 

As I passed by the finish line at mile 85, I waved and shouted to those in the beer tent, "See you in a few!"  Even though I was beginning the struggle to race at any amount of speed, mentally I was as happy as a head louse in a barber shop.  I was yo-yo'ing with a young lad, who was in the same struggle as I.  However, as I hit Sissy Pants, which I thought was the last climb before Jackson Park, he was off his bike and told me he didn't think he could finish.  I slow pedaled and tried to give him all the encouragement I could, but I could see the defeat in his eyes.  I sure do hope he was able to pull it together and finish.

Knowing a short break was just around the corner, what did I see around the corner but The Hampton's Climb.  "FUCK!"  immediately flew out my pie hole.  Head down, I ground out yet another frickin' uphill slog of death. 

Back into Jackson Park, dusk would soon be upon me.  I took a few minutes to chow on some more Fig N Jammies, chug a Coke, swap out CamelBaks, and put a light on my helmet.  ( In this 25 miles I had drank 50 ounces of Skratch, 20 ounces of water, and 2 gels). Still no urge to urinate, so I was in and out within 5 minutes.  As I was preparing for the final push, I paused to look around me.  Bodies and equipment were scattered across the grass like a Civil War post battle scene. Most faces displayed "the stare."  Although I did see several smiling ones ... or were they grimaces?

I drew my sword and charged directly into the line of battle. But be it for a bike mechanical, I knew I would finish this journey.  I had begun to encounter some 60 milers and runners around mile 75,  and during this section, they became more numerous.  I made sure I gave each and every one of them a shout out.  Knowing how difficult it was for me, I couldn't imagine being in their shoes.  They had more grit, gristle, and gumption than I, to be where they were in their journey, at this hour, and knowing they had many more miles to go.  They gave me inspiration to try and pick my pace up a bit.

Whose idea was it to ride that small but steep loose rocky, sandy section just upon leaving Jackson Park the second time, only to turn left at the top and go RIGHT BACK DOWN to the IOHT I just left?  I was Yosemite Sam'ing it up this climb!

I was grateful the afternoon thunderstorms had held off.  People were complaining of the hot temperatures, but after living/riding in 90+ degrees and 70+ humidity most of my summer, a breezy overcast 75 degrees was right up my alley!  The off camber Dirty Mary was enjoyable in the dry. I turned my light on as I hit Flannel Shirt.  Dusk is the hardest time of the day to read the trail and avoid obstacles.  More than once, due to lighting and fatigue, I smacked a tree.  I laughed out loud at myself more than once making these silly mistakes.

As darkness enveloped me, I became a little more cautious in my line choice.  However, there were times that before I knew it I was bombing down a slick rock slab and just had to trust in my abilities to stay upright and hope my front wheel did not find a huge rock to catapult me over. I did have a few "Oh, shit!" moments but Marji Camp body memory saved me.  As well as turning off my monkey brain.

The third token was in this final 15; once again, my memory of exactly where fails me, but what I do remember is that the sign was facing away from direction of flow and I had to stop and turn around to read the sign to see that it was indeed my third token, albeit labeled #1 on the bucket.

On Suicide Hill I came across some young high school age ladies.  When asked if I was doing the hundred, they said I was awesome!  To which I immediately responded, "And you are, too! Keep it up and you will be kicking my tail soon!"  When I was their age, I thought a 5K run was hard. 

The rock slab HAB was unusually hard this time for me.  Bike on the left, feet up on the dirt, I used Blaze for a crutch to make my way up that steep section of hell.

I heard the lapping waters of Lake Sally at mile 99.  My mind began wandering and I began recalling the movie Lake Placid.  Imagining a giant crocodile chomping down on me was enough to squeeze my adrenals and pick up my pace a little.

When I saw white flags on a freshly cut trail, I knew that Cry Baby had begun.  Danny may put on this sweet old man persona, but his true evilness shows in his trail work.  Off-camber, with so many twists and turns and ups and downs, if I was any older, my vertigo would have kicked in.  And what about those 29'r sized holes in the midst of some of those turns.  Good Gawd!  And those 2 or 3 steep ass HAB's almost made me cry for my Mommie.  The only saving grace was that I was beginning to smell the barn.

Only Jasper Knob was left.  I was so tired, I couldn't even make the initial climb up onto the trail.  I pushed to a point where I could hop back on and finish the climb.  Upon getting there, the last check point bucket had no tokens, only acorns and pine cones, with a Ha Ha! message from Todd and Danny.  I enjoyed listening to the rookies remarks upon seeing this.  More than one "FU!" was said!

The descent back into town was pure joy!  I had finished my 3rd Marji, with each one earning me a dollar bill.  Yeah, the buckle was out of reach, but that wasn't my only goal.  As I have often said, my #1 goal for every race is to have fun.  #2 is to not get hurt.  #3 is to finish, leaving it all out on the trail.  Usually, when I accomplish my core goals, I have a great day on the bike and a good placing. 

I rolled through the finish line at 14:26.  1st woman and 39th overall.  Not too shabby, considering this Marji had eaten many of its young, with a 63% DNF rate. 

Too tired to stand.

This was my slowest time of the 3.  But every year I have done it, the course has gotten harder, with more technical trail added.  But, this was probably the funnest one, as the course was in the best shape I have ever ridden, allowing me to find more zen moments of pure bliss on the technical ascents as well as the descents.

I want to give props for everyone who toed the line, no matter the distance.  To sign up for this event took guts.  To finish took an unbelievable amount of mental fortitude and strength.  And to those who found their limits, next year you will destroy them. 

To all the ladies out there, you guys are amazing.  I don't remember one woman who did not have a smile on her face as I passed by.  You are my heroes! Your strength gave me smiles for miles ... and I think I found some free trail out there this year because of you!

Thank you Todd and Danny for all your hard work to push us beyond what we thought was possible.  What an amazing soul searching journey!

Thank you to all those who shouted out my name and yelled at me to go get that buckle.  I cannot believe so many knew who I was.  It gave me little boosts of speed and happiness all day!

The volunteer support was utterly amazing.  There must have been at least 20 unofficial aid stations.  When I first raced this in 2016, I was on my own on the 25 mile loop and 15 mile push to the finish.  This year, there were people at almost every road intersection! The communities of Marquette, Negaunee, and Ishpeming, as well as all the Marji folks are incredible. 

Rescue Racing was well represented! Congrats to team mates Lisa Randall on getting that damn buckle (100 mile duathlon), Scott Morman (9th overall, 100 mile bike), and David Jolin (4th Master's, 60 mile bike).  Shout out to Kathleen Tokuda, who got 11th in the 60 mile women's Open.

Hardest dollar every earned!

My Journey to the MG100 Buckle Attempt Begins NOW

This photo came across my FB feed on Crystal Kovac's timeline.  This lady inspires me on a daily basis and right now I am trying to bridge the gap and catch her wheel.

Today I did a 20 minute power test to establish my FTP (functional threshold power).  This number represents the mean maximal power I can sustain over an hour.  Using LWCoaching's power calculator, my FTP is 93% of my average power over that 20 minutes.

For my non cycling friends, think of this test as going ALL OUT HARD and feeling like you are either going to puke or die and then looking down at your time, realizing you still have 5 freakin' minutes left!

The temperature was not ideal (35 degrees) but at least the winds were calm.  After a 30 minute warm up, I pegged it for 20.  I knew that today's numbers were not going to be ideal, so I placed a piece of tape over the power number and then just paced it off perceived exertion. While I felt my performance was solid, as in I left it all out there, my watts were down, compared to my last test (May 2018).

Trying to find out a racer's FTP number is like asking a woman her weight.  I am going full disclosure because I am chronicling my journey in what is soon to be my 51st year of life.  By telling the world, err ... about 50 people, it will help me to stay accountable and focused on the task at hand. It is just a number, like my age and weight. 

One cannot simply judge a cyclist on their FTP.  Although the power to weight ratio (FTP/ weight in kg) is one of the best single predictors of performance, there are many more factors that determine an outcome of a race.  Health on race day, technical skills, and mental fortitude to name just a few.  FTP reflects your bike fitness and thus serves as a good marker of how your training is going.  With challenging and focused training, my aerobic fitness should measurably increase every few weeks.  Stacking LWCoaching 12 week training plans, I should hit my peak on September 21.

This chart uses 95% of the best 20 minute effort

Today my FTP was 176 watts.  With a weight of 112 pounds, my power to weight ratio is 3.46.  Now, while not as high as I have been in the recent past, it is still respectable.  And with 7 months to prepare for the Marji Gesick 100, my goal is to get as close to 4 watts/kg as possible.  Having that number will give me the confidence to see that sub-12 hours is possible.

So the way I see it is that the only direction is up.  I officially go on Lynda's plan on Monday.  Having used her as a coach for the past 9 years, I trust in her plans and know that she will get me physically ready for the MG100.  It will be up to me to

Do The Hard Things

If you saw my basement "lair," your first thought might be that I am a serial trail killer.  With bikes, race plates, tool chests, trophies, and water bottles strewn around, all that is lacking is newspaper clippings tacked to a board.

I thought that I was done with the Marji Gesick 100.  After a brutal 2017 finish, I had missed the belt buckle time cut off once again.  My 2016 finish was my best at 12:41.  I told myself that two finishes and two wins was good enough and that I was just not fit enough to get it in under the 12 hour cut off.  I wasn't getting any younger and there were other races out there to conquer.

But when the hundreds of MG FaceBook posts began pouring into my feed in the weeks leading up to the 2018 race and then with all the race day posts, the race began to call my name.  I was ok with not having raced it this year; I needed the break.  But Todd Poquette, race director extraordinaire, has a way of motivating those who want, who need a challenge.

Even though this race may be touted as the "hundred miler with the highest DNF race" and therefore perhaps the hardest single day mountain bike race, Todd and Danny, deep down inside, want each and every participant to finish.  And they will wait all day AND all night at the finish to personally hand each finisher their token.  The course is just straight up DAMN hard.  90% single track and super technical ... it never lets up.  As I coined the term, "no free trail," even the descents will work you over.

As I will soon turn 50, I've been thinking about 2019 aspirations.  I have had a very blessed life.  For the most part, it has been relatively easy.  But I believe that is because I have been raised to have a strong work ethic and that nothing in life is free.  If life was easy, would it truly be worth living?  I wonder about that at times.  I think it is in our nature to strive and overcome the hardships.  It gives us a sense of purpose. This is something that we as a society have lost as everything has become automated and can be had at the "click" of a button.  That one can get disability and have the government take care of them for stupid shit is just outrageous. That one would rather have a "magic" pill rather than work on improving their lifestyle and health to resolve a medical issue is unbelievable. We are turning into Jabba the Hut.

Whether it be at work or at play, when I am faced with a challenge that seems out of reach, the feeling of accomplishment when I pursue it and conquer it gives me a high that no drug can even touch.  That damn buckle will be my struggle for 2019!  It may be hard, it might be just out of reach, but come hell or high water, I will fight the good fight and accomplish that goal that has been out of my reach the past 3 years.

I encourage each and everyone of you to seek a goal, an aspiration, that you might think be out of reach.  I guarantee with hard work, grit, determination, and perseverance, YOU CAN OVERCOME the struggle and SUCCEED!

As David Goggins, former NAVY seal, ultra runner, and now motivational speaker says, "When your mind tells you you're done, you are only at 40%."  You have a reserve that is bigger than what you think.  So embrace the discomfort, embrace the suck, and destroy your limits!

To Be Continued ...