I’m in the process of writing a longer post about my decision to run the Tuscobia 75, but for now, gear. I needed some cold weather gaiters for my Lone Peaks. Altra makes this a relatively easy task by equipping their trail shoes with a Gaiter Trap on the back of all of their trail shoes. Prototype #1 came out quite nicely using Cordura and scraps for lining.
The post-Superior malaise culminated in a moment of exquisite injury, illness, unfavorable life circumstances, and the slow fade of summer’s joys into dull shades of winter. The moment passed, the autumn reemerged very much like summer, my legs regained their capacity to run, and food began to taste like something other than vomit.
A few months ago, I had ambitiously signed up for both the Superior 100 and Twin Cities marathon. I thought very little about the having only four weeks in between events, or the fact that the unique demands of each would directly oppose the demands of the other.
It’s hard to believe that the Superior 100 is just a couple days away. I’ve been preparing for this race for so long that the reality of it is jarring. It’s served as this shapeless thing, guiding my actions and fueling my motivation, but I never thought it was actually going to happen.
This story started almost two years ago. I limped away from the Moose Mountain Marathon badly broken, but not dispirited. I told my parents, “Next year, I run the 50 and the following year, the 100.” It seemed like nonsense at the time. I was a mess. From mile 10, my IT band made it almost impossible to move forward. I hobbled to a cringe-worthy finish in 6:20:36.
“Are you the dude who got smoked by the tree?” he asked me.
I gingerly rubbed the top of my head.
“How’s your pride?”
I conceded that the pride had taken quite a blow, but if I walked away without a concussion, I would be happy. We had a good chuckle.
Last year I signed up for Eugene Curnow on the Monday after the Afton 50k. The race was five days away and I was in terrible shape. Consequently, I’ve spent much of the last year gloriously describing it as a work of absurdity, a course so difficult that it defies description.
After racing 6 weeks of intense racing between May and June, I wasn’t going to race Afton this year. However, after a couple days training on the SHT and then racing Bryce, I realized that I needed more time on the trail. My trail fitness was disappointing. I lagged behind both Jared and Bunda, unable to do anything more than plod along at a determined, but pathetic shuffle.