Inside the 50: Zumbro, 2018

“Between here and the first aid station, you will have a life-altering experience.” This is the beginning of race director John’s pre-race briefing to us 50 mile runners. After strong words of warning and resolve, I overheard another runner say “That’s not John’s normal speech.” and it isn’t. 

Life changing experience in 5 minutes! (photo credit- Paul Nye)

But this is Zumbro. 

Since my first run here four years ago I have had the map and elevation profile taped to my wall next to my desk. I’ve compared this course to every other course I’ve run. I didn’t know when I would be back and what distance I would do but I’ve wanted to be here since I left. Zumbro will not leave me.

Zumbro will not leave others as I know from conversations with my friend Julia, who ran it in 2015 and with Melinda, who ran it in 2017, all of us the single 17 mile loop. In the fall, we discovered our life schedules were clear for us to do the race again. As we ran one of our Friday Adventures, we decided the 50 mile distance was for us. That is, Julia and I talked and Melinda listened but within a week or so Melinda was on board as well. We each picked our own training plans and set to the work of getting to Zumbro. 

Two weeks before the race, Julia and I headed up to Zumbro to join a group for a training run. For me, it proved to be one of the most valuable training days. Within a mile the group had separated into different abilities and paces and Julia and I found ourselves picking our way around the bridle trails by ourselves. The entire trail was in a state of ice, snow, mud and standing water other than the few which were south facing and had dried out. We cut our run short, not completing the entire loop, even though the twelve miles had taken us four and a half hours. Back home, we strategized, watched the weather, bought massive amounts of gear, watched the weather, planned, watched the weather, panicked and regrouped and watched the weather some more. Winter was not budging. 

Bill, Luke and I pulled into the Zumbro West End campground with the camper around 4:30 Friday afternoon. It had been raining on and off all day from what we could find out and the trail was a terrible muddy mess. The 100 mile runners, including Julia, had started that morning at 8:00 but the trail was winning as the drop rate increased with each loop. Julia called it after one loop deciding that the mud was not going to play nice with her injured foot. I walked to the registration/aid station area to assess things. Spirits were good but showing signs of battle. As I walked back to the camper I overheard John say to a runner who dropped that Susan Donnelly who is a very accomplished 100 mile runner had said this was the worst conditions she had ever run in. 

As Melinda and I sat around the trail map discussing plans, layers, gears and trail conditions as reported by Julia who had risked coming back from her hotel to visit, it started to thunder. Then we heard the sound of ice hitting the camper. Then it snowed. We stepped out of the camper at 10:30 to 3 inches of snow on our way to pick up our race bibs. The boys were building snow forts. 

I had made up mind as to what I was going to wear as I packed the day before but there was still last minute doubt as to how best to handle the worsening conditions. I made Bill keep track of the time for me as I changed layers until I on a thinner pair of tights under a thicker pair of tights, a short-sleeved shirt, long-sleeved shirt, a thicker outer layer and a wind and rain proof jacket. I put on a single pair of Injinji wool socks after slathering my feet with Trail Toes and then placed foot warmers on top of my feet. Our camper was full of friends as my friend Nate showed up at 11 to check out this ultra running scene. We all talked and laughed as Melinda and I finished getting ready.

At 11:45 or so we assembled for the pre-race meeting. We found Charlie or Charlie found us and told us the harrowing tale of him driving on the dangerously icy roads to get to the race. He advised us to use hiking poles earlier rather than later and later rather than earlier I decided that was very good advice. We saw Jason and he was all bundled up in all his warm gear and goggles to crew friends of his. Pre-race directives, pictures and hugs and kisses (Bill only for the kisses) over, we moved to the start line. In the dark of midnight, it would have been difficult to find but in the blinding snow we could only follow the people in front of us and listen to John’s voice as he called us to come closer, closer, closer… Go!  

Where's the start line? (photo credit- Paul Nye

I was now inside the 50. 

I’ve not done a lot of night running and my past experiences have not be great. The times I have run at night I have spooked myself with the sound of my own footsteps, letting out a little yelp when the sound got the best of me. Other times it has been squirrels, rabbits and deer, their eyes illuminated by my headlamp. I chose the midnight start because I figured I wouldn’t get eaten or attacked or spooked if hundreds of other runners were with me, all of us with headlamps on. We quickly filtered down to single file on the trail where banter was surprisingly quiet, I believe due to all of us waiting for our life-altering experience. Since I was more mid-pack, we were hiking the climbs rather than running and our footsteps fell in sync. The sound of us moving and marching was a unifying experience. I wasn’t the only one to notice it as others around me laughed when I broke into a little “Hi Ho, Hi Ho”. I looked back and could see a line of light made by all of us individually but blurred together. The snow draped and outlined the branches. It was beautiful. I imagine the same run but without the snow to reflect back our light and I don’t think it would have been nearly the same experience. 

Have headlamp, will travel in single file 

The trail conditions seemed markedly improved from my expectations and previous experiences. Make no mistake, there was plenty of mud and standing water. Perhaps I’m becoming a more seasoned trail runner, perhaps my life-altering experience happened four years ago but the weather had changed and so had the trail since Friday morning’s start. I knew two things- my mind would not budge from my goal and I would take what the trail gave me until one of us won. 

In the dark and snow, we came over the first overlook then tucked ourselves back onto the trail. Branches hung low being burdened with snow and often Melinda and I smacked ourselves with one, not looking up from our footing to see it. One of my favorite sections is the trail though the pine trees. On my scouting run, it was an ice rink which was completely opposite of the stream that ran down it four years ago and this time it was muddy. But what captured me was the way the branches domed our headlamps. I could see a runner ahead, a tiny cathedral of moving light. 

Getting a glowing shot is difficult when your own headlamp is lighting up the trail

I really don’t know where Melinda and I were in comparison to the rest of the 50 mile runners because within the first three miles, we had all thinned out significantly and by the first aid station we were no longer headlamp to hydration pack close. There was always mud but there was almost always a work around. The temptation to dodge all the mud would eat up time and energy so it was a balance of continually moving forward and staying out the of muddiest parts as much as possible. It was just a game out there as we wove our way along on the driest paths others before us had stamped out. 

And it continued to be dark since it was in fact nighttime. Even later in the day, I remember thinking to myself “I’m running in the dark!” or “I ran through the dark!”. I’m literally so proud of myself for staying up most the the day before other than a few hours of rest and then running from midnight on. One of the advantages of using headlamps is that the course markings are easy to spot because they are reflective. With a quick glance up the trail I could spot the next turn or next section. I could also spot where other runners were on the trail. We would be at the bottom of a climb and I would tell Melinda to look up so she could see them.

Julia and I had deemed the steepest climb before the second aid station as The Big One. You climb several smaller ones, hoping that it’s the big one but only when your legs are screaming and you wonder just when in the hill its going to be over, do you realize you are on The Big One. Summiting the hill, you quickly crest and descend, using mud or ice as the means to get down. On our first loop, the trail was mud but not the flowing mud the 100 milers had the fortune of riding down. This was less mud for me than 2014 so I felt really grateful for what it was. 

We were in and out of the second aid station fairly quickly, although I think we could have always shaved more time off of the stops. The second aid station acts as the third A.S. as well. This section is a quick little up and down and then a sandy coulee which is often difficult to run well. That did not prove to be the case this time since the rain had compacted the sand and it was firm underfoot. We were able to run this section and make it back to the aid station quick enough.

Right out of the aid station we started the long climb to the ridge. We met up with another woman at the top and stuck with her for some time while she us all about some awesome races she has done and now I want to do them. We made it across the ridge and headed down Ant Hill. Ant Hill is not small. The boulders are not small. It’s even a tough ride for my guys on their dirt bikes (they go up whereas we go down). I’m not a fan of Ant Hill. We went slow enough to reduce the impact of the long, long descent on our knees but fast enough to take advantage of the downhill. At the bottom is a mile plus long access road. Both Melinda and I were a little bitter about this road because both of us walked this stretch the last time when we wanted to run but we’re stronger runners now and ran most of it.

After the fourth aid station, which is also the first, we encountered the most standing water. It filled the entire trail and we spent a lot of time trying to keep our feet out of the water and mud but was only somewhat success. Even though this section never did fully drain, my feet were the wettest and muddiest during the first loop.

We had made really good time for our first loop and for not knowing what we were going to encounter out there. Our boys were sleeping but Paul, Bill and Nate were there to help us gear up for the next loop. I called out what I needed from Bill and he filled my bottles with more Tailwind and found my next pair of socks and shoes. I changed both, wiping down my feet with baby wipes first and adding more Trail Toes before. You know what? Trying to change socks and shoes with the wind and snow howling around you while trying not to go hypothermic from not moving sucks. Bill took off his winter coat and draped it around me while I finished up. And he hates being cold! The aid station offered me an amazing quesadilla and some bacon and my eyes were wide with delight. Nate, this being his first experience with an ultra of any kind and me at 5:00 in the morning giddy about a cheesy flour tortilla that stuck to my gloves as Melinda and I headed back out into the blizzard conditions, well, he was speechless.

I’ve always heard the sunrise does wonders for the spirit after a long, dark night of running and was waiting for my Zumbro sunrise. Melinda called to me and over our shoulders was the low, red glow of the sun ready to break the horizon. I was ready for it to happen and hoped to catch it in a turn in the trail. But the clouds would not release their captivity of the sky and that was all we ever saw of the sun for the rest of the day. Gently the morning song of a few brave birds broke out but the rest of the woods remained silent. The darkness of night moved away for the light of day so we turned off our headlamps and took in the trail as though for the first time.

We landed at the first/fourth aid station and rejoiced to take our headlamps off. Mine has a light on the front and a battery pack which is strapped on and is worn on the back of my head. I had tried to lower my ponytail to keep the battery pack from causing a pressure point but didn’t get it quite right. Plus, after 6 hours of wearing it, it was heavy.

Getting to the top of The Big One, the mud chute had now become an ice chute. We, along with several men, battled our way down it. The second/third aid station looked more remote than ever as only a handful of volunteers were there and the lights used to brighten the station during the night were gone. I overhead a volunteer ask another if they needed a certain item anymore and she replied that she did not. It occurred to me that they might be packing up instead of cleaning up. I had hoped we could finish our second loop before the 17 mile runners started or at least be far enough ahead that they would never catch us. I did not want to share the trail with 500 of them. I asked about the morning race and they told us it had been cancelled but said nothing about the 50 or 100 mile race. Melinda and I spent the next section wondering if this would be our last loop but continued with our mindset that we would go until we finished or got pulled. I spent several icy downhill sections sliding, falling and swinging around trees as if they were poles while Melinda looked on from above and rated my skill and poise. As she crept her way down, I decided my safest course of action would be to sit on my feet and slide as far as I could, using my hands as paddles. See, no one will write about this kind of inside information in Ultrarunner Magazine but I’m here to say it was somewhat effective and definitely entertaining. 

Ah! So this is what the trail looks like!

Melinda and I entered the third aid station and no one said a word to us about stopping after this loop. We overheard a volunteer boost a 100 miler up, assuring him he would be able to finish, and we took it as a sign that we would be continuing our race as well. We slipped and slid our way up to the ridge. We kept our mission up to run when we could and walk when necessary and found the trail drifting over although we could still find it. Melinda and I always stayed together but worked at our own paces. We even took bio breaks together although a fair distance from each other. Squatting in a half a foot of snow on tired legs can be an awakening experience. (Dudes have it super easy is all I’m saying.) 

After 16 hours, this was hilarious

There is a long service road before reaching the bridge which links back to the front end of the course. Again, we had no positive feelings about this road but suffered ourselves together to run it as much as possible. We knew it was around a mile long even though it felt like 5 miles but in reality we had no idea how long it was. Assessing ourselves, Melinda’s knees hurt when she ran and my Achilles hurt when I walked. Despite our uneven injuries, I figured with the third loop we would probably both develop another pain that would even us out. Through the trees I kept searching for the metal arches of the bridge. I found them at least three times only to have them be branches before we really did see them. The aid station had made chocolate chip pancakes for us and they were a delight! 

We came into a very forlorn looking campground. By now the boys were up and everyone met us. Luke found the sign Kristy had made for me during one of my long treadmill runs and was holding it up for me. He became my real live giant teddy bear which I hugged at will. Bill and Paul hustled us into a huge canvas warming tent that had been set up and helped us with our gear. The mood was pensive and hurried. I overheard someone say to hurry up because the weather was getting bad. It’s really not the kind of thing you want to hear in a toasty tent with the snow and wind whipping the sides. It will suck the resolve right out of you. I was down on calories and down in my spirit and paused for a moment. I knew I was going back out and that I would finish but it was definitely a low point. Fortunately Bill knows me and knew how to assess the situation well. He gave me a hug and kiss and booted me out of the tent. I shoveled in a load of scrambled eggs and took two sausage links to go in my formally cheesy and now greasy mitt.

Since the trail had gone from mud to ice, we decided to use our spikes for the third loop. 

They would not have been a good choice for the first loop as there was too much mud. I learned this by finding a singular spike in the mud during that loop. I picked it up and was going to carry it to the first aid station, however, minutes later we came upon two women, one who had lost one of her spikes in the mud and I handed it to her. But spikes on an icy trail are magic and we never slipped once during the loop.

I also brought my new hiking poles with me. I had purchased these a few weeks before the race and only tried them once on a walk in the park. I had my doubts as to how much benefit they would provide versus the challenge of learning a new piece of equipment. The course climbs out of the campground very quickly, I learned very quickly just how amazing using hiking poles were. Charlie was right. I was able to transfer enough weight through the poles to now use both my arms and my legs to move me forward. I proclaimed my love for them immediately. Eventually I share the poles with Melinda so she could try them and she also professed her love. We swapped them back and forth for a while and each time she had them I was plotting as to how and when I could get them back. Finally, I realized we could each use one pole and handed one to her. 

Nailed it! (Note the snow accumulation on me and in my eyeballs) (photo credit- me, obvs)

We entered the first aid station again and I asked if there were any more pancakes and nearly cried when the volunteer said there was. Since they were in a covered container and kept slightly warm, they were nearly the only thing edible and not frozen on the table and I gladly ate two. Throughout the a.m. I had been eating bananas, potatoes, a few potato chips and some very frozen Aldi brand Girl Scout cookies, plus the aforementioned foods from the aid stations. Between aid stations I sucked down Huma chia and Spring Energy gels along with chomping through Clif Bars and Picky Bars. I washed everything down with plenty of water, cups of ginger ale or Coke, and kept the constant drip of Tailwind going until I thought I was going to puke, to which I backed off of. Entering the third aid station, Melinda asked for some hot food as she had munched on pb&j sandwiches the entire time. The volunteer said she had a hot grilled cheese sandwich ready to go. When she carried it over to Melinda the sandwich slid off the spatula and fell to the ground. We stood there, not knowing what to do as there was one more on the griddle but there was two of us. Can you guess what happened next?

I ate the fallen sandwich!

Is it even sane of me to admit that I had wondered for a good portion of the race if I would eat anything off the ground? 

Well, I did and my mom has already declared how proud of me she is and there are no take backs even after discovering this sort of thing keeps trending with her daughter.

It was a hard day for the aid stations as well.

While in the sand coulee, we had heard a loud crack and the sound of either a tree or a huge branch falling. And while the we had experienced snow, sleet, wind, ice all throughout, nothing had felt dangerous. But this felt precarious. The trail on the ridge was completely drifted over. Melinda looked at me and I commented “Nice.” We no longer walked on the trail but on the snow, guessing as to what was the trail. I held my left hand up to block the wind from driving the snow into my eyes but realized I wouldn’t be able to hike that way the entire ridgeline so I pulled my buff even higher and dropped my head down. Melinda, ahead of me, had done the same and the image I have of her is that of a lone hiker in a blizzard bent into the wind. I only post-holed once (when your leg drops through the deep snow) and quickly corrected my course. With the wind and the new perspective, I found a little log shelter on the ridge. I’m sure it had been there the previous two loops but I’ll be danged that I’d never seen it until now. New weather, new times of day, new perspectives and one sees new things every time.

Thanks, sign.

And that is the thing about this year’s race. It was brutal. I guess. I look at pictures and can’t quite remember it being so bad. Inside the 50, inside 16 hours for us, as the trail changed from mud to ice, as night went to day, as hundreds dwindled to a few, it was absolutely beautiful. 

One of my favorite views- the layers of white

We walked the entire access road back. The ridge had taken so much out of us. We ate, we walked, we regrouped. We checked in at the last A.S. and finished the last stretch. We talked of how we would get together for beer and pizza later. We marveled that we could still run. 

Finally we pulled up out of the bottoms and saw the campground. The wind drove at us, desperate to get in its final licks but we would not have it. Paul would later say that people were trying to guess who was running through the campground and he proudly yelled out “It’s my two Mindys!” 

Two Mindy's, two finishes, 1 adventure 

Our times are equally listed. We have a story only 49 other 50 mile finishers can share. We took care of ourselves and each other. Melinda is emphatic in saying she could not have done it without me but I wouldn’t have wanted to do it without her from the beginning. 

Stoked to have done it and to be inside

We’re bummed we could not be with Julia and that she did not have the trail or race we had but she stepped up to a bigger task with all the heart and bravery one needs to even do so. We are humbled by the true selflessness of the volunteers who stayed long after their shift was over because relief could not gain access just so we could stay the course. My admiration and gratitude for John Storkamp and the outstanding team at Rocksteady Running runs deep. I am grateful to Paul for taking such good care of your Mindy, capturing some outstanding pictures, losing sleep and providing for our every need post-race.

My people- Ehresman small group for saying you believed in me more than you said I was crazy; Julia and Melinda for all the texts, long runs and dreaming; Anne and Kristy for the treadmill signs and Yeti strength; the Turkeys for the long runs at Ledges and Browns; Gary for talking me off the ledge- your need for no bs makes me focus; my family for occasionally asking me about my races means a lot; my sister for putting me back together all the time.  

There aren’t words to express how I feel about Bill. He drove me to the race, managed all my needs, took care of Luke and made the call to pull our camper out of the campground to higher ground, missing Supercross in Minneapolis, to drive us safely back to Iowa all in a day and half. Your belief is me is beyond my belief.