What's your key to success at Superior 100?

From the forthcoming book, Superior. With gratitude to finishers of the Superior 100 below.

April Anselmo: Positive attitude, and the drive to want it, along with putting in the time on feet to train in all sorts of conditions.

Maria Barton: Be at one with yourself. Be okay to be with yourself and the trail and the woods and the moon and the stars. Be okay being in the wilderness by yourself. And get up there as much as you can in all weather. Learn the nuances, landmarks, and features of the trail. Be a student of the SHT. Respect your body (I’m working on that) and the SHT.

Frayah Bartuska: I became obsessed with Superior after I completed Kettle. I read every race report, spent every single day on trails, and went up there to train as well. It was the first race that I was unsure about being able to cross the finish line. I was worried I was being too confident in my ability, and I was being too impatient with my race season. Even if I was still unsure of my abilities, I used my training as a sense of therapy as my grandfather was dying. My grandfather was a forester and he raised me, so my training allowed me to feel close to him again. Even though he didn’t remember me or his family toward the end, he always remembered the trails/forests until the day he died. It was engraved into him, and I felt that was my only way to talk to him. To be honest, losing him was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made it better was being on the trails. So, not to discredit my hard work, because I worked really damn hard for this race. Rain or shine, day and night, hot or cold, I was out there. Doing hill work every day, doing 400+ mile months, traveling to different trails so I could train on different terrains. I never worked so hard for a race. However, I was also really sad and angry. That was the fire under my ass. I had so many emotions when I crossed the finish line. I made peace with the world that day. It makes me emotional talking about it, but I had this sense of understanding of the things going on in my life and I wasn’t so pissed off anymore. You think a lot on these 100 milers and when you have a lot to think about they tend to go by a little faster.

Julie Berg: To believe in myself. To know deep down that I can finish. To trust myself. To stick to gels and water, S-Caps, good lights and back up batteries.

Mike Borst: Getting past the mentality that I need to go fast and win. I went into the race telling myself that finishing was the ultimate goal, and during some of the mental low points for me during the run I would just keep telling myself: you came here to finish, no stopping now.

Don Clark: From my sweeping experience, I don’t even like that word, “success.” If I can be there and talk someone into getting off their ass and motoring, I’m so happy. I’m proud of everything I’ve done for my friends and with my friends.

From running it, it’s that streetcar named Desire. It all has to do with self-gratification and desire. It’s the only time you’d see me patting myself on the back. This one is special.

JD Coolidge: My key to success at Superior is to maintain common sense. I am pretty confident that I will not win any ultramarathons so my goal was to maintain an even, constant, deliberate pace. Throughout the race I kept telling myself that as long as I put one foot in front of the other I am gaining ground and bringing myself closer to the prize.

Susan Donnelly: It helps that I love the 100 mile distance, the place, the people I’ve come to know, and the whole atmosphere of this race. I am grateful to the race directors that have kept the race true to its original spirit. Every year, I look forward to race weekend and want to see every inch of the trail.  

I’ve also learned a lot since my first Superior run. At this point I’ve finished 70 hundred milers, 200 ultras overall, so I've become more familiar with the 100 mile distance, this course, ultras in general, and the mind and soul side of the sport. 

All of that helps, but this race wouldn’t be as alluring if it wasn’t such a true challenge with the real potential for failure each time. I love that it’s such a deceptively tough race. It wouldn’t be remotely as fun if it were a sure thing. There’s nothing like facing the unknown, with everything you’ve got—brains, physical strength, and spirit—and Superior requires it all.

John Focke: My key to success was my crew and never looking beyond the next aid station. My crew was amazing, from the aid station pit stops to my pacers, they kept me moving, taken care of and they gave me a great attitude. 


Stephanie Hoff: My main key to success at Superior was my mindset. I told myself for weeks leading up to the race that there is no such thing as quitting or DNFing. Once you start this thing, you finish it. My friend, Kate, and I started the race together. We told each other that we would stay together as long as possible, but we both realized at some point we would no longer be together. We separated a few miles before County Road 6. Kate was in a low point and I was in a high point, so I went for it and picked up the pace. I didn't see her much after that. At the last aid station, they told me that she dropped at mile 85 and the tears rolled down my face. I was so sad for her; this had been her goal for so long.

My other key to success was the belt buckle. Around mile 75, I was hitting a low. Not finishing crossed my mind several times. But I told myself that I'm not allowed to quit. I told myself the pain I am in right now is temporary. The pain of quitting will last forever. I kept picturing myself wearing that black finisher’s sweatshirt, with jeans and my big belt buckle around my waist. Then I would tell myself to get my shit together and finish this effing thing. And then I would rebound from my low, and be cruising on my way again.

Another key to my success was my awesome crew and pacers. My mom was the best crewmember I could ask for. She knows me so well, and she knew what I wanted at every point in the race. She stayed up for the entire race and met me at every aid station. My pacers were amazing too. They kept me hydrated, fueled and had great conversation. My first pacer even made a "to talk about" list and wrote it on her arm so that she had subjects ready to go. I couldn't have asked for a better group of people to support me at Superior. I even had a friend from my running club who was up in Duluth for the day drive all the way up to the last few aid stations to see me at a couple of them. My support team was amazing!

John Horns: Keys to success: a) physical—there is no magic to the training but you have to do it; b) mental—there is a whole lot of thinking time out there on trail and you need to embrace this; c) nutrition and hydration—a key piece of the puzzle that is often overlooked.

David Infante: Camaraderie, friendships and incredible luck. Friendships and friends who don't let friends give up. I ran with people who understood the challenges and didn't let me succumb to the lows that occur over the long hours. Everything from a text saying, "Get up and move forward" as I lay on a rock after emptying my stomach to a refusal by a runner who’d adopted me to let me quit at mile 50 as I shivered uncontrollably at an aid station. He said, "In 15 minutes, you'll be bitching about how hot it is!" He was right.

I envisioned being reunited with my running partner at the finish, getting the sweet hoodie and buckle and the incredible happiness that would be the reward for the effort. I imagined my pacer who was driving several hours to meet me at Temperance and who I was not going to let down. I really got lucky. Attaching myself to a runner with crew (and experience) was a godsend. 

TJ Jeannette: Preparation. It seems so obvious but it’s true for everything in life. The better prepared you are the more unlikely it is you’ll mentally break down. You know you’ve got the time in. You’re prepared. You’ll finish.

Stuart Johnson: Being a back of the packer, I have to be very stubborn. 

Nick Koenig: Success was a mix of training and luck. I always say luck is for the ill prepared. But to use the term loosely, luck may exist. If I twist an ankle out on the trail, is it bad luck? No, it’s improper attention to where I’m placing my feet. If I get dehydrated it’s because I didn’t bring enough water with me or chose to forget to drink. I’ve had success and failure on the SHT. I prefer success.

Soy sauce is another key for me. I do a shot if I feel like hell. Seems to always balance me out immediately.

Scott Kummer: The key to success at Superior is PERSEVERENCE. The time cutoff is generous enough that you can finish if you just don’t give up. I literally heaved my body down that trail for two days. 

Kevin Langton: Show up prepared, mentally, physically, and spiritually. I need to be centered for this one, for any hundred. Positivity and gratitude can carry any runner a long way too, and those are things that we can practice, things we can cultivate. It doesn’t hurt to do some long runs on the SHT either.

Also, if you have Lisa Langton for a crew person your odds increase greatly. But you can’t have her. She’s mine. I’m lucky that way.

Matt Long: Never give up.

Matt Lutz: Pay your dues, put in the time and the miles, and hit your calories and fluids. You can do anything if you get enough calories and fluids in you. 

Roberto Marron: Be prepared for anything. Have fun and when the pain comes, embrace and deal with it. Know your strengths and weaknesses.

Steve Moore: Hard training in the Texas heat all summer made the mild weather at Superior feel outstanding. I was able to eat plenty of calories and keep a decent pace going without getting too hot or having the GI revolt. My folks crewed for me and were more excited than I was. I fed off their energy when I saw them.

Christi Nowak: Going in with the mindset that I was going to finish was helpful, as was my familiarity with the course. However I think the biggest help was my pacers. The first friend who paced me twisted his ankle on the first section he ran with me, so the second one started running with me at Crosby Manitou and did the last 40 miles with me, rather than the 25 she had planned on. Those 40 miles included a lot of low points, particularly going through the gorges in Crosby Manitou, but she helped me through them.

Larry Pederson: Telling yourself you’re going to do it no matter what. Total persistence. I’ve had races where my head wasn’t in it and I dropped. You have to be in the right place mentally. As a director, the key is having a lot of really good volunteers. And I did.

Scott Rassbach: More than anything else, the key to finishing Superior was previous failure. In 2009 I entered the Ozark 100 as my first 100 mile race. It was an unseasonably hot day for Missouri in November, 84 degrees. I neglected to adjust my time goals for the heat. I neglected my eating and hydration. I lost the will to take care of myself. I didn’t run a step after mile 42 and dropped at mile 68, completely demoralized. When Superior 2011 turned out to be similarly hot, I knew to adjust my expectations. Before the first aid station I threw time goals out the window and concentrated on just finishing. The dehydration, fatigue and pain were normalized and I was able to deal with these sensations because of previous failure and determination not to repeat the result. Sleepiness, hallucinations, and a course where every step is contested meant the result was in doubt even as I started the second night.

The other reason for success was my crew. My wife, Rita, met me at every possible aid station. She made sure I had what I needed for the next section and gave me the moral support I craved. The desire to see her at the next aid station kept me going through several difficult sections. My pacer, Shelly Groenke, ran/hiked the last 60 miles of the race with me at a pace that must have been pretty frustrating. We don’t talk much, but she gave me a kick in the tail when I needed it and kept me on course.    


Mallory Richard:  I'm decently proud of my pacing at Superior. Both times so far I've started my race slow enough that I have energy left to keep running in the second half. I've also had great pacers and crew. My buddy, Joel, paced me for a few legs both times I've raced Superior and I've been lucky to have family and friends as my crew. Oh, and my archrival, Steven Graupner, runs Superior so that helps drive me to be competitive. He beat me by two minutes in 2014.

Husveth and Button

Jeffrey Rock: My DNF at Arrowhead in 2014. Had I not learned from that race I may have DNF'd at Silver Bay after becoming severely dehydrated. Instead, with the help of the aid workers, I was able to take the time to rehydrate and my race only got better as it went on. In a race that long things are going to go wrong. The easy way out is to quit. Once you quit you can't get it back! You are going to have an entire year to troubleshoot what you should have done instead of quitting.

Todd Rowe: I wanted it badly enough to focus solely on getting to the finish line in one piece by the cutoff. And I was determined to have fun. I had a few dark moments early on, before Beaver Bay even, when I wondered what the heck I was doing. Beaver Bay to Silver Bay was scary, because I was feeling a little bit over my head. Up until then I had run with friends (Amy Husveth and Joel Button) and enjoyed lots of chatting but several hours of solo time had me wondering. I was passed by Roy Heger before Mount Trudee. I had ridden to the race with Roy—he is a long time training partner. Roy likes to start slow and then he just reels in runners and gets it done. He had finished Hardrock that summer and was as humble and inspirational a runner as you are likely to find. Not long after he passed me I caught back up to him and he was limping badly. He had taken his eye off the trail for a second and fell and twisted his knee. He announced in no uncertain terms that he was fine but his race was over. All I could think of was how that course had claimed another victim (I kept repeating over and over that, Superior eats its young, along with, This course truly is Rugged, Relentless, and Remote). I was determined to run mindfully and carefully, especially during the night hours. I didn't care when I finished. I just wanted to finish. I proceeded to be careful and have a ball from that point on. Every aid station was a joy to behold. I didn't have to act as if I was happy and joyous to be out there—from that point on—I truly was. I had a few dark spots like when it poured on me 30 minutes after ditching my jacket (before Temperance) or when my last pacer—Matt Patten, rang his cowbell for the 400^th time and I couldn't take it anymore. But they were always very short-lived transient moments. There is something magical about that trail. Running 103 miles on it makes it even more amazing. 

Jordan Schmidt: Reflecting. I need to reflect. Every DNF, every finish, every time I interact with somebody, it’s all about learning. Attitude is definitely one of them. Keeping perspective on aid station to aid station is true. But it’s also about why I’m there.

Adam Scwartz-Lowe: Partly, I'm just lucky to be good at technical ground and have a solid stomach. I've never really had an issue with either of those. Now for what I can control, I train consistently and run most of the year. I don't have weeks where I run 1 day, then 7 the next. I run 6 days a week and keep to a sustainable mileage. I've also done a bunch of 100's and I know exactly what I'm getting into, especially at Superior, which I've run 4 times. That course familiarity goes a long ways, and is one of the best things going for you when running a good race. I don't train on the course itself, but I regularly run on trails with similar footing, so I get better at moving over rough ground quickly.

Helen Scotch: Training on the course. It's a trail like no other I've run, with endless ups and downs, and rocks and roots that take on a life of their own. Knowing the trail is a definite advantage in this race and training on the course allows you to dial in gear choices and mentally prepares you for the rough spots. Ultimately the race will throw new challenges at you despite the most dedicated training plan, but having course experience gives you the extra confidence you'll need.

Shawn Severson: Definitely wanting it. I need to get into the present moment. Sticking with it through the dark spots. I always hit some emotional lows where I’m bawling, crying, and I reach out to others. I rely on other people I bump into helping me get out of those slumps.

John Storkamp: Culture. It is all about the culture, which is a direct result of the people. Superior 100 has a rich history and a lot of great people behind it. Many of the people that were involved in making the race happen in the beginning are still among us today in one way, shape or form, and we rarely "lose" people. We have one of the strongest volunteer groups of any race anywhere in the world and runners (and volunteers alike) new to our event come into a strong established culture. This makes for a consistently good event with an even greater vibe.

Marcus Taintor: As far as key to success at Sawtooth (for some reason I have a hard time calling it Superior, as people in Duluth think I'm talking about the town across the pond), always stay positive. I've learned to laugh at myself a lot. It's all pretty silly and we do this stuff for fun. Sometimes it helps to just stop for a moment and enjoy the scenery, or even taking a few minutes to cool off in a river can make all the difference. I also think it's important to just take it easy for at least the first 50 miles. I feel like I've kind of got this race figured out now, but twice I've gotten horrible shin pain at about mile 75, and last year [2013] was just ridiculously hot. It's so weird because last year I actually was able to run almost the whole course, but I was spending hours at the aid stations trying to cool off, keep food down, and such. I'm going to keep doing it as long as I can though. I enjoy the challenge, and I never really get tired of being on the SHT.

Marcus Taintor

Ed Thomas: Don't quit. Whatever happens at Superior or anywhere else, just don't quit! There will be pain and lots of it—don’t quit! The weather could be too cold or too warm—don’t quit! You may get tired and exhausted—don’t quit! The demons may ride upon your back telling you to cease this crazy thing you're doing—don’t quit! It's all about preparing your mind to accept what's happening or what's going to happen. Yes, you need to be in physical shape but even if you're in better physical condition than anyone else in the field, if your mind is not there with you, you will not...I repeat...will not, finish...DON'T QUIT. Pain is temporary: a DNF is forever.

Why Run Superior?

The following responses are from finishers of the Superior 100. I am grateful for their generosity. This is a part of my book about the race. It can be found here.

April Anselmo: My first 100 miler, Kettle Moraine, went so badly. I was ill prepared. But I finished. I knew I could do better at a 100 miler. I wanted to do better. I had heard from other runners the difficult nature of Superior, and the beauty. I was intrigued.  Plus I had run Afton Trail Run, and knew the kind of race John Storkamp puts on. I wanted to do more of his races.

Maria Barton: Why not? I wouldn’t even think about doing a hundred elsewhere until I got my finish at Superior. The SHT is my spiritual home. It’s beautiful, mystical, boreal forest views. The scenery, and of course, the people. If work told me I’d have to work that weekend… (looks down, shakes her head). It would be like them telling me I had to work when my kids are getting married. But my kids know better than to get married the second weekend of September.

Frayah Bartuska: My first two trail races have an unbelievable amount of elevation involved. When I did my first 100 (Kettle), I had the best experience. However, I missed the climbs, and I missed new scenery. I was so proud that I was able to complete a 100 miler, but I crave seeing a hill/mountain in the distance and knowing that I’m about to climb it. I was researching this race more than Kettle, and I was just fascinated by the scenery and the climbs that were involved.  I told myself that if I finished Kettle, I would add another 100 and it would be Superior. I crossed the finish line at Kettle knowing that I could tackle Superior the same year. It would be a lot for a rookie, and I would have to step up my training tremendously, but I was so ready to tackle that race.

Julie Berg: Because it is something I never believed I could do. Bonnie Riley was running her 100 there and I was running the 50 mile. When I saw how badly she looked I told myself I'd never do it. Ever. I then told myself after ten 100 mile finishes on other courses that I'd give it a try. Well, after ten 100 mile finishes I stayed true to my word and to myself. I gave it a whirl. It was beautiful, demanding, all encompassing. I only made it 77 miles. I knew that I'd be back.

Superior has a way of getting into my soul. I finished the 100 the following two years and again this year. My best friends run this race, volunteer this race, and direct this race. There is nothing like being among the people you care about the most while racing. It's the most difficult of my fifteen 100 mile finishes. It takes me the longest to finish. It beats me up the most. It's the most rewarding. The views are amazing. I've run the course a few times over a few days on my own—it’s beautiful, but not the same as the race. If I could only run one more 100 mile race in my life, it would be Superior.

Mike Borst: Superior has been deemed one of the toughest races out there and that means it is a beautiful and fun course to be on. If you have to run 100 miles why not do it on some of the most scenic trails around? Also John Storkamp is one of the greatest race directors ever.

Don Clark: It was my first 50, my first 100. It’s probably the toughest I could find. And there weren’t many 100s then. It was so personal to me, to do that one. And there’s that camaraderie that we share. What a glorious day.

JD Coolidge: Superior was purely opportunistic. Though I had visions of doing Superior at some point down the road, it was only after a failed attempt at the Leadville 100 that this vision became reality. I registered for Superior approximately 14 hours after I threw in the towel at mile 54 of the Leadville course. I was not totally disappointed with my efforts there, but I felt a need to redeem myself. My wife gave me the push I was looking for when I mentioned Superior the next morning. She said, "You should do it."

Susan Donnelly: Right time and right place. In my second year of ultrarunning, I found myself with a couple of early 40 and 50 mile races under my belt and saw a thin window of opportunity to jump up to the 100 mile distance. It wasn’t perfect training (I wasn’t even sure what that was), but based on what I’d done for the shorter races, I thought it might work. 

I had to decide whether to go for it, or wait until everything was more sure. I looked at the calendar in Ultrarunning magazine and found Superior Trail 100. I had run Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth several years in a row and had fallen in love with that part of Minnesota. A 100 miler there—on a trail—seemed too perfect to be true, so I took it as a sign that it was time to leap.

It also helped that this was 1997, before widespread use of the internet, and the Superior Hiking Trail was far enough outside my normal travel radius that my training partners in Tennessee wouldn't know if I didn't finish. That freed me from feeling extra pressure of external expectations. 

I sent my check, booked a flight, and trained as best I could guess how.

John Focke: I love northern MN, and the Superior Hiking Trail is one of my favorites. I've strung sections together hiking and the thought of spending a couple of days running for 100+ miles on it, while enjoying views of Lake Superior and seeing places I drove past but hadn't explored, was really enticing. Plus, it's known as one of the hardest 100's around that's not at altitude. If you're going to test yourself, really test yourself.

Stephanie Hoff: Kate Leis [running friend] actually picked Superior. I'm more of a go-with-the-flow kind of racer. She picked it because it was supposed to be one of the toughest 100 mile races in the country. I said, Sounds good! I really wasn't sure what I was getting myself into. I just knew I loved hiking the North Shore, loved the trail running community, and I'm always up for a challenge.

After running Superior, I would tell everyone this is the toughest, most scenic 100 mile race they will ever encounter. And the people, volunteers and community are amazing. Superior should be on every ultrarunner's bucket list.

John Horns: Being a Minnesota kid I have to run it. It’s close by. My grandmother and grandfather had a place on Seagull Lake on the Gunflint Trail. My folks had a place on the North Shore. I can remember my mom (Mae Horns) doing hill repeats on Bridge Run at Lutsen, where the race finishes today.

David Infante: It was never on my radar. I thought Minnesota was flat. My friend Shawn Severson suggested it and I had a conference in town the following week so I volunteered to crew her. She said I should run it instead and we could pace each other. I needed to put something on my calendar to work for and that's why Superior was the race. I have to say that I did not adequately comprehend what I was getting into but I’m so glad I did it.

TJ Jeannette: That’s easy. I’m from Duluth. It’s home. It’s in my parents’ back yard. And it helps that their back yard is such a beautiful trail environment. That location makes it easier for family to be there. It makes it inclusive for my crew. It started with that convenience.

And after doing the spring run and the 50-miler last year (2013) there was no choice. In fact, I had asked my coach at the time (Chris Lundstrom) if he would train me for the 2013 100. He said no. He said I needed to build up to it. Give it more time. He was right. I did the 50 miler with negative splits, just flying at the end, feeling good and passing people. That really did it for me. It’s convenient, but it’s also awesome. It’s conveniently awesome.

Stuart Johnson: Why not? At first it was because it was a pretty place. Tough but not crazy hard. Then as it got tougher it was partly because of that. All 100s are hard. Superior Trail just ups the hardness scale a bit! People that haven't done it won't get it. 

Nick Koenig: Location...it was a few hours away. I was a newbie to the sport. I'd figured I'd rather fail a race closer to home than spend the money to venture out of state to fail. Quite the positive attitude. But hey, I’m often realistic with myself. Anything can happen out there on the trail. I’m glad Superior chose me to run with her. I will attempt a few more times to be sure.

Scott Kummer: Superior has a unique set of both beauty and challenges that no other race I have run provided. The beauty, the rustic nature, I love everything about the Superior Hiking Trail. I also think it’s one of the better put on races. John does an amazing job. It’s first class. He also keeps it small and intimate. It feels like family. It feels like a homecoming.

Kevin Langton: It's freaking Superior! When I was freshly sober, in 2006, I was backpacking the SHT southbound and came across the race, which was moving northbound, of course. Most runners went by while I was sleeping, but in the morning I met some runners on the trail. And I visited with the sweeps for a few minutes. I’ve always loved running, especially on trails, so I figured if I can hike it, maybe I can run it too. The SHT is a perfect playground for a long run. It’s truly magical. This race is special, from the directors to the volunteers to the rich history—when it started there were less than a dozen of these in the country. But there is always the landscape. It becomes a part of us. It shapes us.

Matt Long: It’s convenient. I live right here. It’s beautiful.

Matt Lutz: I got hooked on trail running when sometime in 2006 or 2007 I was hiking in Split Rock State Park on the SHT with two friends. We were way loaded down, nowhere near the ultralight set up I have now. And there was this dude who was just running up and over hills we were struggling to walk up. It was the end of the day, it was hot, and holy shit that guy was running where we were barely able to walk. 

I was already in love with the SHT at that time, and wanted to do a thru-hike (I did that in May 2008 with my brother). But Google and Dean Karnazes's first book led me to the Superior Spring Races, back when the Perbixes organized and directed them. And I was hooked. I'll always come back. Always.

 

I love this sign. And I hate it too.

Roberto Marron: It's a great local race, beautiful landscape, and a challenging course. Back in 2010 I showed up for the race as a first time 100 miler—without knowing anything about running a 100 mile and definitely unprepared! I had to drop at mile 74. It made me realize that I was weak.

Steve Moore: Superior was a Hardrock 100 qualifier and that is what drew me to sign up but the idea of a point-to-point 100 in a cooler-than-Texas climate solidified it for me.

Christi Nowak: I did Superior as my first 100 because I love the North Shore—I grew up visiting there—and I felt that the beautiful scenery would help get me through the challenges of the race. I was familiar with much of the course already, which made me more confident that I could finish. And on a practical note, the fact that I didn't need to travel far to get to it helped.

Larry Pederson: At the time it was the closest. Kettle and Rushmore were near too.

Scott Rassbach: Larry Pederson [Scott’s uncle and previous Superior race director] is the obvious connection. I was thrilled to finish my first 100 miler at his race.

As a child, my parents took my sister and me camping at Gooseberry Falls State Park several times. I have great memories of this place and love to return when I can. It seems like a very “Minnesotan” thing to do.

Mallory Richard: I wanted to run Superior because I heard it got the seal of approval from Sue Lucas, who's the toughest runner I've ever met and I've always been a little in awe of her. I keep going back because the course has this ability like nothing else to expose your weaknesses and force you through them. I make mistakes and come up short in some aspect of my race each time, so I have to go back again the next year to fix it. Is "the perfect Superior performance" a white whale?

 

Jeffrey Rock: It's the most difficult course that I know of around this area. I'm sure no 100 miler is easy, but if I want to test the limits I want the most difficult I thing I can find. A lot of other reasons too. The beauty of the trail, lake, and woods. The people involved in this race are awesome, from the racers all the way to the race director. It's almost as if everyone is more concerned with your success than their own. Then you have the volunteers. I have no words to describe just how good they are.

Todd Rowe: Running the Superior 100 was always about doing time on this trail. Before running the 100 there, I have loved every minute I have spent on the SHT. From running the shorter races to backpacking Bear and Bean Lakes to a winter camping experience at Bear Lake to camping trips along the North Shore with day hikes on the SHT. So I didn't want to run a 100-mile race and then pick one close or hard or any of the other things about Superior that also factor into the equation. It was always about running on this trail, in this place, in a mind-numbingly challenging way. I still have no desire to run 100 miles at Zumbro, as much as I love being there and running there and helping. There are some mountain 100s that intrigue me—Bighorn, Black Hills, Pine to Palm. But the place matters to me way more than the distance. It was never about running 100 miles for me. It was always about tackling this trail in a big way.

Jordan Schmidt: First, I had to for Gnarly Bandit. But when I was in high school, on our senior trip, I saw the race, saw people finishing, and I vowed to come back. I DNF’ed my first try and I thought about that every day for that year.

Adam Schwartz-Lowe: It's local for me, the course is technical, which is one of my strengths, and it's low elevation (which is great for all of us Midwesterners). The first time I ran was mainly because it was close. Now it's a great end of season race, well organized, and it's fun to run on familiar ground, which isn't as stressful as traveling to a new race.

Helen Scotch: When I ran Superior in 2008 I'd been living in the Twin Cities for a few years and considered the SHT my home course so it was a natural choice for a first 100. The race organization and support is amazing but most of all the trail is a hidden gem. There are sections where you feel like you're in a fairy tale (even when your feet are screaming at you in pain).

Shawn Severson: It’s a Storkamp race. It’s local. It’s recognized as being difficult. It also counts as 4 points for UTMB qualification.  I knew the aid stations and safety would be top notch.

John Storkamp: Because it is one of the oldest/most historic 100 milers in the country—when it was founded there were only about a dozen 100 milers in the country. Because it takes place on the shores of one of the greatest, most powerful bodies of water in the world (Lake Superior) in some of the most diverse and fascinating forests anywhere. Because it is hard. Really hard.

Marcus Taintor: The first time I saw people doing Superior 100 was in the early 90's when I was out delivering papers. I just happened to be walking by as the race was starting in Silver Bay. I remember being 12 or 13 and going out in the woods behind Silver Bay and seeing the glowsticks still on the trees and being in total awe that these people were running all the way to Grand Marais. It wasn't until I moved back to Duluth after living out of my van for four years that I started getting into running again and realized I might actually be able to finish the 100 myself. Being it's where I grew up I guess the Superior Hiking Trail has always been my home.

Ed Thomas: I wanted to do a tough course. I heard Superior was tough. I just didn't know how tough until I ran it.

Jarrow Wahman: A few years after Harry Sloan started putting on the Superior Trail 100, I knew that I would one day do it as it was run on some very challenging but memorable trails. I DNFed at the 1994 race, making 85 miles, stopping while still in the lead, my biggest mistake being caffeine deprivation. I couldn't stay awake. It took me until 2011 to get back out there and finish the damn thing. It helps that they put caffeine in gels now. I'm glad I went back and finished it, although it was frustrating being so much older, slower and weaker than I was back in the 1990s when I could have perhaps won the race. But I knew I had to finish it even if I were much slower. It's great to be able to share the experience of finishing that race with others who have.

Superior 100 Frequently Asked Questions

Superior 100 Frequently Asked Questions

(with a lil help from John Storkamp)

1. How far is it?

Great question. Trail races are rarely standard distances, and the organizers like to make sure you get your money’s worth. The current course from Gooseberry State Park to the finish line at Caribou Highlands on Lutsen Mountain is actually 103.3 miles long. Don Clark and Bonnie Riley have measured this distance twice with a measuring wheel.

2. Do you run it all at once?

You run, walk, and crawl it all at once, if you are lucky. Many (usually 40 or 50%) will not make it to the finish line.

Runners have 38 hours to finish. In addition, runners must reach certain aid stations before cutoff times. The first cutoff time is at Silver Bay aid station at 4 pm on Friday. That means runners have 8 hours to cover the 25 miles from the start to Silver Bay. If they don’t get there by 4 pm, a course sweeper (someone who follows the race running/walking the course picking up markers, stray trash, and runners) will pull them out of the race.

The 38 hour cutoff is one of the more generous of 100 mile races. Cutoff times can be an indication of course difficulty. The Lean Horse 100, a relatively flat race on a former rail bed in the Black Hills of South Dakota, has a cutoff time of 30 hours, while the Hardock 100, a ridiculously mountainous Colorado run, has a cut off of 48 hours. With that said, any time someone runs 100 miles it’s difficult, and climbing and elevation are only some indicators of difficulty. Lean Horse is not easy—after all it’s 100 miles, in August, with little shade.

3. Do you run the whole way?

Most don’t. Many power hike the hills to keep their heart rates somewhat level (less energy expenditure). Some walk because it’s all their legs will allow them to do at the time. Forward progress and staying ahead of the course sweepers is key to finishing. “Run when you can, walk when you must,” is mid-race advice that helped me get through my first hundred.

4. But I don’t even like to drive a hundred miles.

That’s not a question. Many ultrarunners don’t like to drive that far either. Although they will to get to a race.

5. What is a pacer?

A pacer is a life-size, walking and running punching bag / glutton for punishment—not really necessary but runners are welcome to have them. A pacer can run with the racer after the 43-mile point (County Road 6 aid station) after 6 pm on Friday. A pacer gives company to the runner, keeps him or her moving, and can be an aid to safety if the runner is out of his or her mind and not paying attention to important landscape challenges like cliffs and waterfalls. Pacers have been known to fight off possums and other wildlife. Pacers tell stories and bad jokes and sing songs. They can’t carry, or “mule,” equipment, food, water, etc. for the runners. Some runners use pacers and others don’t.

6. What’s a crew?

A crew is the runner’s posse. A crew is like a pacer but they get abused by their runners just once every few hours, at the trailheads. These people drive from aid station to aid station, wait and wait, and then when the runner comes through, they experience a couple minutes of chaos, then drive to the next aid station and wait some more. During the chaos period, crewmembers may provide emotional support, cowbell, foot rubs and blister drainage, food, a change of clothes, a much-needed pep talk, sympathy, and Facebook updates. My wife tells me not to be a Sally. She unlaces muddy shoes at 3 am when my fingers won’t work and the smell makes her gag and she puts fresh socks on my swollen feet. She refills my hydration vest with Tailwind and Gu packets. Then she tells me to get moving and sometimes offers a kiss (or maybe I ask for one), unless I’ve been puking in the woods. The emotional benefit I get from seeing her at aid stations is priceless.  

Lisa's instructions

7. People run marathons in just over two hours. Why is the pace so much slower for this?

As the race director says, “It’s a little hilly and the terrain is not what most people would consider ideal running surface.”

Wynn Davis once said that running the Superior 100 is like trying to solve a puzzle with your feet for two days straight.

Aside from the obvious (it’s longer), trail running is a much different beast than road running. Road running is about repetition, putting many quick strides together over an even, paved surface, while with trail running every step is different and unique. The Superior Hiking Trail is a challenge not only with its constant climbing and ascending, but also with the roots, rocks, and mud that runners dance through. Running or hiking it helps a person find humility. And blisters and broken toes and lost toenails. When people unfamiliar with this trail experience it with a runner, the first question or comment is often, “You really run on this?” Adam Schwartz-Lowe’s winning pace in 2014 was just over 13 minutes per mile. That’s beast-mode fast on this trail.

8. Do you eat while running?

Fueling is key to a successful finish and that means eating. The body burns an incredible amount of calories in these events. Aid stations are buffets.

9. What do you eat?

An easier and simpler question to answer would be: What do you not eat? Visualize army ants eating their way through the jungle. They eat what you put in front of them. Hopefully most of it stays down. Standard aid station foods are boiled and salted potatoes, cheeseburgers, pizza, quesadillas, grilled cheese sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bacon, pancakes, cookies, potato chips, oranges, bananas, grapes, Gummy Bears, Twizzlers, Coke, Ginger Ale, chicken noodle soup, potato soup, energy gels, electrolyte capsules, and so on. And runners bring their own variations too. Salts and simple sugars that the body can easily break down are popular. Some odd favorites are Pop-Tarts, burritos, Ramen noodles, even Spaghetti-Os and chocolate milk.

10. Where do you sleep?

Most runners don’t sleep. Some do, usually out of necessity. It’s possible to see runners dirt napping under tents in aid stations, on rocks on the course, on gravel parking lots, etc. Some runners claim to have slept while actually running. The lack of sleep can cause emotional roller coaster rides and hallucinations.

11. What are the hallucinations like?

They can be nonexistent, fun, or irritating. Mostly they’re irritating. They usually aren’t the kind of cartoon-like hallucinations one might experience when tripping on LSD. They’re softer than that. They might begin with auditory hallucinations—I often think someone is running behind me only to turn around and see no one. Then the visuals might kick in, maybe after a full night without sleep. In the 2014 Superior 100, tree stumps, rocks, and branches were dogs for me on first glance. Since I’m a dog person, it was a good thing.

Hallucination?

12. Do you get lost?

It’s possible, but the Superior Hiking Trail is one of the best-marked long trails in the country, with regular signs and blazes (a blue paint stripe on rocks and trees). In addition, before the race, markers walk the course, placing an incredible amount of orange ribbons on the trail. At Superior there are at least ten ribbons per mile. These ribbons are reflective and easy to see at night, based on a marking system that Don Clark developed. In the early years, these ribbons were placed on tree limbs. Don realized that most runners have to keep their eyes focused on the ground, so the race switched to a system of ribbons attached to metal wires (originally clothes hangars that Don, Bonnie Riley, and Maynard Lagace cut and straightened) that are placed in the ground.

Still, it’s easy to get confused when you’re tired. Runners have gotten lost, but they have all been found. Eventually.

Remember Storkamp's pre-race instructions to “keep Lake Superior on your right.”

Race Director with blue blaze marker on tree

13. How do you train for such a long race?

Lots of time spent on the feet. Long runs are a must, sometimes in daily succession, what is called back-to-back or even back-to-back-to-back (say Friday, Saturday, and Sunday) long runs. The goal is to teach the legs to run when they are tired, when they don’t think they are capable of running more.

Lots of hills, or hill repeats, help. Some do speed training as well, but the strength training of running hills is a necessity.

Because trail running is such a full body sport, cross training is helpful too. Cross-country skiing, biking, yoga, and swimming are all popular.

The idea of training specificity, of emulating course conditions, is especially important, and one of the only ways to emulate the unique nature of the Superior Hiking Trail is to run the Superior Hiking Trail. When they can, runners will try to invest some miles on the course itself.

14. Do you take bathroom breaks?

Yes. Runners will pee, shit, and vomit in the woods. If they’re smart they carry toilet paper too. Knowing how to go in the woods is a critical skill in any long ultra.

15. What happens to your feet?

Few runners leave the course with perfect feet. They will hurt. They will be swollen and blistered. The amount of rocks and roots at Superior triggers broken toes, ankle sprains and so on. Some people lose the skin under the heel pad. After the race, toenails continue to turn black or purple, and eventually fall off. Some runners like to share pictures of their post-race feet on social media like a badge of badassery. Please don’t do this.

16. How long does it take to recover?

Few runners cross the finish line thinking, “I can’t wait to do this again.” Some may take a blood oath right there to never run again. Conveniently they may already have plenty of available blood spilling out of them. Some runners are back at it within a week, while others might take a month or more off. During the week after running a hundred miler, I often experience increased appetites, fatigue, and an inability to focus, but a runner like John Taylor spends that same time packing for his next hundred-mile race.

17. What is wrong with you that you would run 100 miles?

Plenty. Obsessiveness helps a person get to the finish. While there might not be anything “wrong” with people dealing with mental health issues or recovering from alcoholism/addiction and eating disorders, higher numbers of us seem drawn to ultrarunning. A long run in the woods can be good, cheap therapy.

18. What’s the deal with belt buckles (or, Whose idea was this anyway)?

In 1974 Gordy Ainsleigh completed the Western States Trail Ride in California on foot. Buckles were given to finishers of the horse ride, and Gordy got one too. His feat evolved into the Western States Endurance Run, and the idea of awarding buckles to finishers stuck.

In 1983 Harry Sloan, the original Superior Race Director, completed his first Western States Endurance Run (he now has 13 finishes there) and Western States became his model for Superior 100. The first Superior buckle was awarded to Bob Stavig in 1991. That buckle was the shape of a wolf’s face, with a runner’s profile between the wolf’s eyes.

Tom Weigt's buckle (left) and mine.

Zumbro 2015

I was scared of Zumbro this year, more scared than usual. I came limping into it after a winter of calf issues, IT band issues, and a downhill fall at Seven Mile Creek that I still feel sometimes in my left knee. I didn't have the amount of winter miles I had hoped for, but I did have a few confidence boosting back to back long runs. The IT band was still an issue a week before the race, but getting better with lots of rolling and stretching and yoga. My expectations for the race kept changing as it got closer, and the ultimate goal was to finish and have fun. Still, I was more worried than usual about not finishing. I even considered not running it, but this is Zumbro. I love the race. I have that owl tattoed on my leg, after all.

Photo credit: Zach Pierce

Another intimidation was that last year I dropped at mile 80 with hypothermia (but I finished on the icy course of 2013). Somehow I worked the worry out of my head before the race. I love the week before a hundred. I focus on mental and spiritual preparation. I walk through my rituals. It would take a gorilla amped on methamphetamines and a baseball bat to knock me off my beam or get me worried about something.

 

It rained Thursday. At race check-in that evening, it poured and pools of mud puddled in the fields at the campground. It snowed Thursday night. This is simply how Zumbro works.

My wife, Lisa, is my secret weapon at these things. She really knows how to take care of me, even when I don't. Most people agree that I'm pretty lucky that way. Someone I met running at night, in the dark, asked, "Oh are you with Lisa? She's awesome."

Photo credit Zach Pierce

John Storkamp got on his ladder and told us some things and then told us to start running. Because there would eventually be multiple races happening on the same course, we 100 milers were given pink ribbons to tell other runners that we were dizzy, deranged, and stupid people. It's a wonderful idea and it encourages others to egg us on in our stupidity. I feed off their encouragement.

We started running, onto the trail and up to the bluffs overlooking the campground of the start/finish area.

My first goal of the race was to do no harm. I learned the phrase as it applies to ultrarunning from Jason Husveth at Superior. But I actually learned the lesson from Zumbro last year, when I started with a 3:15 first loop (Zumbro is a six loop course; each loop is 16.7 miles.), way too fast for me, and I suffered because of it. Do no harm to the race. It's so simple. But I'm excitable and impulsive. So for the first three loops I tried to nose breathe with my mouth closed in order to keep my heart rate from red-lining. Unless I was talking to someone, or occasionally climbing some of the steepest hills, my mouth was closed and smiling. It put me in a blissful meditative state. And it kept me from running too fast. If I needed to open my mouth for more oxygen, it was a reminder to slow down.

My hope was to be consistent with those first three loops, to keep them somewhere around 3:40 to 4 hours. Really to keep them around 4 hours, but I allowed myself a little bit of excitability room on that first loop. My splits were 3:42, 3:58, and 4:00. I was happy with that. I knew I wouldn't maintain that pace in the night, in the darkness, in the time when the body says sleep, when eating seems impossible, when the cold moisture creeps into the bones and on downhill stretches the rocks shine like dangerous traps calling to take your teeth on a fall and the sticks and mud move beneath your feet like living animals. In the daylight I wanted to be assertive without being aggressive, to lay down some healthy miles, to do no harm on day one, and somehow I found that place.

Towards the end of loop one, while I was coming down Ant Hill, a puffy snow fell and soon turned to rain. All those around me pulled out rain shells. I did too. We were carrying memories of last year's rain. It lasted a short way into loop two. Otherwise our day was beautiful. The trails were in good shape, muddy but soaking up the water. It was a perfect day for running here. The rain and mud were just enough to keep us from getting bored.

The day was a blast. I ran with lots of fun people. I saw so many awesome and helpful friends (old and new) at the aid stations and all over the course, people who fed me and hugged me and teased me and kept me moving. The aid station dogs were out and I got to see Winston and Tucker and Pearl and an adorable German Shepherd pup.

I carried a two liter pack with a Tailwind mixture and drank from it consistently. In fact, I've never peed so much in any race. I bet I peed once every hour. That's a lot of time. I was peeing so much that I tried to do it moving once. I also tried to consistently eat real food at the aid stations, and that wasn't a problem in the day.

The leaders came by to lap me in loop three. Jake Hegge and Mike Borst were running relaxed and having fun. I told them they were only allowed to lap me once. I gave them a few big loud Woos. I really like both of these guys, having gotten to know them some for a writing project. They're good people, so it was a real lift to see them both running so well and relaxed.

Halfway

I was getting sore by the halfway mark, feeling it in my hips. I was surprised that my knee was holding out so well, although it whispered its presence to me on the downhills. It was near dark when I left the campground for loop four with my headlamp around my neck. I tried to cover the remaining daylight miles as well as I could. But loop four snuck up on me. Then it pounced. I felt the cold and wet burning in my feet. The climbs grew taller. My quads ached. At Picnic Rock, I sat down and turned off my headlamp, soaked in the stars. I put my head in my hands for a few minutes. Runners moved by me. I was looking for a reset button and wasn't sure where it might be, so eventually I got up and kept moving. It's all I could do.

The night was filled with the constant songs of coyotes, frogs and owls. 

From a bluff I heard sandhill cranes in the river below.

My headlamp reflected the eyes of mice and rabbits.

Half a moon rose over a ridge. It was the color of grapefruit.

Aid station volunteers stoked a fire and warned me of its power to hold runners too long.

Food was not easy so I drank more and ate only a couple bananas. And pancakes with chocolate chips.

I wanted to send my parents a note saying how much I appreciate them.

I climbed into the moment, into the breathing.

Somehow I stumbled into the campground and got into the Jeep and turned the heat on. I was a mess. Lisa helped me change my wet socks and shoes. She's amazing. My feet were white raisins. Lisa rubbed my ears and neck and hands. I stayed in that Jeep a long time, 45 minutes. I tried to drink a Coke, but jumped out of the Jeep and threw up on my shoes. I left with warm feet and dry clothes and felt a lot better.

I moved better through loop five.

I wished I had poles.

I decided I wanted to learn to make artisan breads.

The leader of the 50 mile race came by. A minute later my friend Kurt Keiser came by and asked how far ahead the leader was. Kurt caught him soon and eventually broke the course record. Both of those runners own running stores, one in LaCrosse and one in Mankato.

I remembered something another runner had barked at me last year at the Black Hills 100, when she saw me walking downhill. She said, "Use the downs!" At every downhill, I remembered her snapping this at me and I moved a little quicker. In my mind I pictured her saying this as Large Marge from PeeWee's Big Adventure.

I was far away from the start/finish area when I heard a huge celebration. This must have been Mike Borst finishing, smashing the course record. Jake Hegge finished his first 100 only 15 minutes behind him. 

I saw my friend Tom Weigt at Aid Station 1/4. He was running the fifty. It's always great to see Tom on the trail.

I found some strawberry Huma gels Lisa had put in my pocket. These went down well. I made an effort to eat more of them through the end.

The horizon began to lighten on the ridge just after Aid Station 4, off to my left. By the time I got to the campground, it was day again. My feet were wet and cold so I sat in the Jeep to warm up. I shivered and watched runners cross the field. Eventually I climbed out of the jump and left the campground around 7 am. My feet felt so much better now. I lost a lot of time with those two stops in the Jeep, but maybe they helped me finish.

I moved well through this lap, ticking off the miles as best I could, either running, shuffling or walking. I said goodbye to each landmark and obstacle. This lap is really a celebration, when I think, Well I don't have to do this hill again. I don't have to walk through that sand again. At the top of one climb, without thinking about it, I flipped off a simple sign nailed to a tree that said, "Picnic Rock."

Every hundred miler I saw had some complaint about their quads aching, blowing up, falling apart. Mine were screaming too.

I really wanted to finish before noon, below 28 hours. The numbers 2747 kept popping into my head when I thought about this.

Climbing away from Aid Station 3, I looked down and saw my friend Shelly behind me. She was running the fifty. We often run together. I yelled at her and kept climbing. I didn't know how this hill had grown so much. She caught me on the climb and I followed her to the top. Then I told her we could visit later, that she was the first lady her age that I had seen, that she could move a lot faster than I could. As she often does at these things, she won her age group, fourth lady overall.

I walked some of the down on Ant Hill. I was trying to be careful with my knee and quads. I wasn't sure how far I had to go but it felt like 28 hours was out of reach. Still, 2747 popped into my head.

I walked some of the flat river road. I would run as far as my legs would let me and then I'd walk a stretch. Then try running again.

I saw Lisa before the bridge. She had come down to meet me. What an emotional bump seeing my honey was!

Photo credit Todd Rowe

I told the fine folks at Aid Station 4 I appreciated them very much, but I was glad I didn't have to see them there anymore. It was a happy farewell but I think they were getting tired of seeing me too, as nice as they were.

In those last miles a couple 17 miler friends came by and lifted me, Jim Kalina and then Josh Henning yelling Woo! from far back. 

I told everyone who passed me to enjoy this moment.

Just before the campground, a lady passed me. I don't remember if she was running the 50 or 17. I said to her, I'm going to put myself in your back pocket if I can. I didn't make it ten steps before I was walking. Shuffling. Seizing. Then it was just a field to cross. To finish.

Ed had to tell me to keep going to cross the line.

Signing the banner!

The boys guarding the wooden finisher's medallion.

My time was 27:47, the same number that had been popping into my head. Yeah, that's weird.

It was a perfect day to plant myself in a lawn chair and watch friends come in. My dad had driven over to see me finish. Lisa found me a cold root beer.

These things always teach me humility and gratitude, an appreciation of all the people in my life. Sometimes it's like that Talking Heads song and I'm surprised to find myself in this life. I ask, How did I get here? Especially after all the things I've done to this mind and body, stuff that happened years ago now. I feel truly blessed to be able to do this, visited by grace, truly blessed to be alive.