Carl Bliss

Failure never feels good, but there are always some lessons to learn.

As I crossed the finish line of the 2019 Superior 100, I knew that my story was a story of failure, and I want to embrace that. Two failed attempts at this race made success more sweet, and far more likely. I don’t know that I would have finished in 2019, if I hadn’t failed in 2017 and 2018.

The year of preparation

The 2018 version of the race ended at a missed cut-off at mile 85 (Temperance River Aid Station). That was just slightly better than the missed cut-off in 2017 (Mile 77.9 – Cramer Road). Shortly after last year’s race, a couple of race veteran friends (Joel and Kyle) met me with a proposal. “We want to help you get to the finish line in 2019”.

Their plan of attack was a little different than my previous attempts. The focus was on a lower sugar diet, fewer long runs, and more hills… a lot more hills. I figured that I was ready for a change in strategy. I had been working with Mike at Trail Transformation on a day-to-day training plan. I let him know what I was thinking, and he was able to adapt my winter and spring training plans.

I also spent a lot of time reading about the mental side of endurance training. My winter reading included.

• How Bad Do You Want it – Matt Fitzgerald
• The Brave Athlete – Simon Marshall and Lesley Paterson
• North – Scott Jurek
• Endure: Mind, Body, and the Curiously Elastic Limits of Human Performance – Alex Hutchinson
• Grit – Angela Duckworth
• Superior – Kevin Langton

From these readings, I began to change the way I looked at the race. I no longer talked about my “hope” to finish. I talked about my finish. I no longer looked to the starting line as this big event looming on the horizon. I began to look to the finish line as the big event. I became intentional about not verbalizing any negative thoughts that came up in my running and training.

The year of training included weeks of doing 12,000 – 14,000 feet of climbing each week. My go-to hill was Pawnee Rd. just north of downtown Stillwater MN. It’s a 200 foot paved climb up a river bluff. Morning workouts would consist of 10 repeats of that hill.

Another highlight of my training was to do 3 loops of the Afton Trail Run race course at Afton State Park. I was joined by Joel, Kyle, Bobby, and Neil. We started at 10pm. Since Joel was leading my pacing team for Superior, he was able to try a few things. One of those things was more intentional running late in the run. I have a tendency to “walk-it-in” in 50 mile and 100 mile attempts. This exercise was able to show me that I can do more than I think I can on tired legs. We negative split lap 3, and my confidence soared.

With the 3 loops in the bag, and a few more weeks of hills… it was nearly time to head to the North Shore.

In what was to be my final session up the Pawnee Rd. Hill, I got there the morning after a rain storm. As I parked, I saw a sheriff and a county work truck at the bottom of the hill. The rain had washed out a significant portion of the road. Kyle had just come down the hill and we looked at the washout together. I told him. “It’s been me, versus this hill, all year long. One of us had to give out first. It wasn’t me. I’m ready for Superior now”

The journey starts in my driveway

The trip north on Thursday is an annual tradition that I look forward to. I had taken Wednesday off to finish packing my kit. Katie and I hopped in the mini-van and headed to Duluth. We grabbed dinner and some coffee in Canal Park, then headed to Fitgers to kill some time.

While there we ran into Mike, one of my Stillwater running buddies, and Niki. We headed in to do some shopping, and bumped into Bobby and his wife. We killed some time there, and waited for the rest of my crew to show up. When Kyle, Joel, and Nait arrived, I hopped in the truck with them so we could talk through a few things. We met a few other friends in Two Harbors, grabbed dinner.

During dinner, I had a conversation with Niki that set the tone for my race. Niki was facing some upcoming knee surgery. Another friend had something similar going on. Both of them would have loved to be running. “This is a gift. You GET to do this tomorrow. You are healthy enough to do this, and that’s a blessing. Many of us would love to, and just can’t”. That went through my head many times during the race. “I GET to do this”.

Next… to packet-pickup and the pre-race briefing. I made my time there as short as possible. Katie and I headed out and I got my typical pre-race restless night of sleep.

The guys asked if they could drive me to the start (about 60 miles down the shore), but I preferred to have Katie take me. That allowed me to rest a little more and just listen to music. The cabin we stayed in was near the finish line. So the drive to the start took us past many of the roads and aid stations that are familiar landmarks on the course. I tried not to think about the distance.

The start – mile 0

There are few things that compare to the energy at the start of the Superior 100. Anxious runners mingle with anxious crew, friends, and family. Volunteers, many of whom wear finisher sweatshirts, help get runners checked in, and ready to start.

This is the place where I can see everyone. Some will finish behind me, and many will finish ahead of me. But for a few minutes, we’re all together. Mike, Rolf, Alex, Reid, Ben, Neil, Bobby, Jeff, and so many more give me words of encouragement, and take more words back from me. Some have been to the finish line, and some have not. But we’re all facing the same journey.

A brief set of announcements from John, the race director, and the crew is ready to go. We’re off to Lutsen.

The first 5 miles are on paved trail. A reroute from a number of years ago moved a chunk of the rugged Superior Hiking Trail, to a paved bike path along Lake Superior. This provides a great chance for the field to get in the proper order before we are on single track and passing becomes more difficult. I spend some time with Bobby, and meet others including a couple of brothers who are running this together. I also spent some time back and forth with Neil in this section. I knew he was a stronger runner than I am, so I tried to keep my pace honest and not pass him. This is where it’s tempting to go too fast.

The pavement eventually turned into single-track trail. As I passed the wayside rest at Split Rock State Park, I noticed my wife’s van parked there (she was volunteering at the aid station just down the road). I picked a bouquet of weeds, and placed them under her windshield wiper. I had done that in 2017, and the weeds from 2 years ago were still in the car. I made her promise to throw them both out after I finished.

The single track here goes pretty quickly and has a few more climbs that I recall. There is a fun wet river crossing, then another mile or two to the aid station.

About 1/2 of a mile out of the aid station, I came across 6-7 runners huddled around another runner who appeared to just be coming to. I wondered what took him out, but was assured that he was OK and that I could go on. Knowing my wife was at the next aid station, I worried that she would hear about a runner needing medical attention and worry it was me. As I descended to the Split Rock Aid Station, I saw first responders heading up the trail. I learned it was a bee sting with a severe allergy. I later learned that many of the first 50% of the runners received multiple stings from the angry ground bees in that area. It was one time I was grateful to be further back in the pack.

Split Rock – mile 9.7

9:54 am – 4 minutes behind schedule

Split Rock aid station is about 9 miles into the race. It’s usually a quick aid station as runners simply fill up water bottles and grab a bite or two. There are no drop bags or crew allowed here, so there isn’t much to do.

The last 3 years, Katie has volunteered here. So I get the benefit of a “performance enhancing kiss” before I head back out.

The next stretch is the longest by distance in the race. The day is starting to warm up, and I’ve run out of water in this section. I packed a couple of extra water bottles and was moving with a pretty heavy pack through this section. My 2017 race report has me running out of water here. I didn’t repeat that in 2019.

This section also had me going back and forth with Neil a bit. It was fun to see him on the trail. He was moving well and I was starting my first fade (there would be many more). After about 6 miles, he pulled ahead and was pretty sure I wouldn’t see him until Lutsen.

I don’t recall much more about this section this year, but I made it to Beaver Bay and still had some water. So that was a win.

Beaver Bay – mile 20.1

12:56pm – 1 minute behind schedule

The Beaver Bay aid station was the first chance for me to see my crew. Joel was tasked with being the crew chief this year. He had a habit of surprising me with ideas or strategy, so I was a little nervous about what to expect here. I grabbed a cookie from the aid station table, and looked for a chair. My crew had hidden the chair in our area. They were trying to keep me on my feet. I had to pay attention to my feet. I finally got them to give me a chair, and quickly changed my sock.

I was trying to make each aid station quick. I downed a bottle of water, and had it refilled. The crew was still trying to work some of the kinks out of their system and I could tell there was a little disarray. At one point, I was waiting on one final item from a crew member before I could leave. I looked over and saw him talking to some other friends of his.

I got out of the chair and started down the trail without whatever it is I had asked him to get. He eventually chased me down the trail and delivered it before I completely left the aid station. The team wasn’t quite ticking the way I was hoping… but they realized that too. This was the last time I ever saw my crew distracted. They regrouped after this aid station, and suddenly became an incredible team.

And what a team!! Joel assembled most of the team, but I was helped by Joe, Steve, Kyle, Joel, Katie, Jason, and Nait. As I was to learn later\they helped many other runners while waiting for me.

It was time for me to go. I enjoyed the idea of leaving the aid station before my crew thought it was time. I tried to make that a habit for the rest of the weekend. With only one exception, I left before I was told to leave.

I left Beaver Bay with Kevin, a runner with a lot of experience on this course. He literally wrote the book about this race. Joel had referred to him as we were training at Afton a few months earlier. He introduced me to Kevin’s self-titled “Langton Shuffle”. It allowed me to run (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) late in the race. As we hit the trail and talked briefly, I saw Kevin’s “Langton Shuffle” propel him beyond my view.

This section also introduced me to Stephanie Hoff. Stephanie has many Superior finishes, some of which were on the podium. We don’t live far apart, and have many mutual friends. But, our paths just hadn’t crossed yet. She was a character in Kevin’s Superior book. Beyond that, I knew who she was from her races, and her endless volunteering on this trail, but didn’t expect that she would know who I was. I was wrong.

It turns out she went to high school with my sister, and our dads worked together. I soaked in her experience for a while. I can’t remember if she pulled ahead of me, or if I pulled ahead of her. Either way, it wasn’t the last time our races would converge. She talked about places on the trail she had been working, and other areas that still needed some work.

I never remember much about the 5 mile section from Beaver Bay to Silver Bay. I worked my way through that section, and arrived at the Silver Bay aid station ahead of schedule.

Silver Bay – mile 25

2:29pm – 6 minutes ahead of schedule

Silver Bay is usually a quick aid station for me. It hasn’t been long since the previous aid, but the next section is one of the tougher sections. It is filled with some of the best views on the course. But good views usually come with tough climbs.

I used this aid station to grab a few “Just in case” items. There are no drop bags at the next aid station, so I like to grab a hat, arm sleeves, and a small light here. Even though it is the middle of the afternoon, I want to have these items just in case my crew isn’t able to make it to the next aid station. If I don’t see them, I’ll be taking these items into the sunset just before the County Road 6 aid station. But the plan calls for me to see my crew at the next aid station and get the best kit for the night.

Somewhere in this section, I finally got stung by a bee… on my face. It was annoying, but I counted it as another moment that would make my story better.

The trip to Bean and Bear lakes reminded me of a December run I did with my brother. I was able to keep a decent pace on ice and snow, I tried to do at least that well on legs that had just run a marathon.

As I made my way up Mt. Trudee, I felt like my climbing power was starting to leave me. I just couldn’t push UP well. Another runner commented on my climbing speed. So, perhaps there was something there. I just didn’t feel it. After running a year of hills, that was a little bit concerning. There was a lot of climbing left to do. Fortunately, the hill work DID pay off as I bounded down the hills on the course.

I bounded down the stairs at the drain pipe, and eventually ran into Joel just outside of the Tettagouche aid station. When he saw me, he ran back to the crew and they took to me like a Nascar pit crew.

I was putting more time between my scheduled and actual arrival times. That was exciting.

Tettagouche – mile 34.9

5:53 pm – 12 minutes ahead of schedule

This was the last time I’d see Katie for a while. She was running the marathon the next morning, and was going to head back for some rest. I did, however, make a special request that she have some chicken soup at the aid station. My appetite was waning, but I was able to take down a small amount of soup before I headed out.

Eating is a tough thing for me in a race like this. I tried to keep calories going down. I didn’t have a lot of GI issues on this race, but I also didn’t have much of an appetite. My crew, especially my pacers, did a great job of getting me to eat. As packets of food came back full and untouched, they would let me know I was not putting myself in a good place. Later in the race, my pacers were a big help with this. They kept having me take down small amounts of food. Kyle in particular did a good job keeping track of my nutrition intake.

At Tettagouche, I picked up a larger light from my crew. It was earlier than it had been for me in past years, so I left the aid station without an extra jacket. As I crossed the (precarious) bridge over the Baptism river, the rain began to fall.

Sunset was an hour a way, and I began to worry that I would not dry off and go into the night wet and cold. I really wished I had grabbed an extra layer. Not to keep dry, but to maintain warmth. It was a legitimate safety concern.

I don’t want to get into the details on this one, but I’ll just say God provided.

I was able to keep warm, and enjoyed this stretch immensely. In the past two attempts, this had been a low spot for me. But I really enjoyed the trip through Wolf Ridge, and up to the top of the dome. As I looked out from the final overlook in this section, I could see the lights of the aid station below. I also saw lights from houses and cabins in the distance. I thought of the families in those cabins, settling in for a comfortable night. Maybe watching a little TV, or sitting back in an easy-chair. My night wasn’t going to be nearly that comfortable.

I made my way down to the aid station, and checked in with my crew. It was time to add the pacers to my race.

County Road 6 – mile 43.5

9:04 pm – 16 minutes ahead of schedule

I took a quick seat at County Road 6, while my Nascar pit-crew took care of a few things. Joel looked at my feet, helped me change socks, and put some lube between the toes. This was probably the most humble job on the team, but the foot care is essential. One of my victories from this race was that I left the course with only one blister. Foot care was a win.

As I sat, I saw Rolf looking a little worried. He gave me a smile, but I could tell something was going on in his race. We tend to be not too far apart, and I’ve seen him at this aid station in at least one of my past attempts. But when I talked about going back out, he didn’t seem too committal.

His race report tells his story, and it’s worth the read. But spoiler alert: he rallied and finished!

My first pacer was my brother Nait. He did this section with me last year, and I requested that he be my first pacer. He brings some energy and playfulness to the trail, and we work well together. I was ahead of schedule and spirits seemed high. We took off through this section…. together again.

I’ve never been through this section (Section 13, as it’s called) in the daylight. But it’s essentially 2 big climbs, with a lot of flat in between. The photos I’ve seen from that first climb, make me want to go experience it during the day. I think I’ve been missing some incredible views.

As we came off the first climb, I took a fall and hit my head on a bolder. It rang my bell pretty well. I felt my head and saw a little blood on my fingers. It wasn’t a lot, so I knew nothing was gashed open. We put a buff on my head, over the wound. Nait asked me if I felt concussive at all. As he rattled off the symptoms, we laughed at “nausea”. I’d been fighting that for about 10 miles. We were pretty sure it wasn’t concussion related. He gave me a couple Tylenol for the headache, and we were on our way.

I was more excited about the blood and the story, than I was worried about any damage that was done. My reaction “That was awesome!” said a lot about my approach to the race. A new story to make this more “bad-ass”.

I don’t like to take anything like Tylenol when I’m running, but it had an unintended effect on me. I was able to run some more. My legs felt less painful, and we just enjoyed the night shuffling, and running more than I had ever done through this section.

At one point, I began to sing quietly “How Great Thou Art”. As the stars and night sounds enveloped me, I took some time to admire the creator of this place that I was running. I heard a low harmony behind me as Nait joined in.

At some point, I started looking at my watch and my schedule, and realized that, if I turned it on, I could get to Finland before Midnight. I had never done that before. That became my new goal. Get to Finland before midnight.

Mini-goals became what gave me energy. I’ll talk more about those in future sections. But for this time, the goal was to get to Finland on Friday. I kept it to myself, for most of this section.

About 2 miles out, I finally told Nait what I was thinking. I acknowledged that there was one more big climb, and I couldn’t remember how runnable that was… but we latched on to “Finland on Friday” as our mantra.

The short run into the aid station is a fun out-and-back section. As we get closer, I’m seeing runners I had spent the day with. Some looking great, some looking tired. I ran across the field and started high-fiving my crew. “I’VE NEVER BEEN HERE ON FRIDAY” I declared. They realized that I was excited, and that made them excited. It was beautiful.

Finland – mile 51.2

11:49 pm – 26 minutes ahead of schedule.

The Finland aid station is the start of the Superior 50 mile race. It starts at 5am on Saturday. From here on out, my goal is to get out as far ahead of those 50 mile runners as possible. From here on is where I’ve lost time in the past.

As I’m sitting at the aid station, someone jokes: Wow… if you hurry you’ll get OUT of the aid station on Friday. I take the challenge, and immediately stand up and start leaving the aid station. The crew pats me on the back, and Kyle starts pacing me through the next couple of sections.

The first mile of this section includes a short walk along the side of the road. I always like to turn my lights off here and look at the stars, before the canopy covers me again and the trail requires my eyes.

Kyle keeps me running some. I tried to start running before I was asked to run. The run was a light shuffle, but moved me faster than I had gone this late in the race. Kyle and Joel had promised to push me hard on this second day, and I wanted to set that hard pace on my terms. As we approached the Sonju aid station, Kyle asked if he could run up ahead. No crew was allowed at this stop, so he was going to be my one-man pit-crew. He went on ahead and started getting my stuff ready.

As I approached the aid station, I saw a familiar figure emerge from the light. It was Neil. It was great to see him again. But I also knew that seeing him meant that either I was having an incredible run, or he was having a tough journey. It seemed to be the latter. He gave me encouragement, and I hope I offered the same.

Sonju – mile 58.7

Much has been written about this aid station. It’s a small oasis in the dark that has a fire that will keep you there longer than you want. Kyle and I got in and out of here pretty quickly. We were still ahead of schedule.

As we took off, I recalled getting to the next aid station as the sun came up 2 years ago. Last year, I got there just before the sun came up. This year, I was far enough ahead of schedule that there wasn’t a sliver of light to be seen as we took the walk to Crosby.

As I walked into the aid station, we were joined by other crew members walking the long road from their cars to the aid station. It’s fun to see them light up when they see a runner heading up the trail. Joel met us about half way up the road. He was my next pacer, and he wanted to get a good read on my condition before we hit the trail. All was well. We had made it to Crosby.

Crosby Manitou – mile 62.9

4:20 am – 25 minutes ahead of schedule

Joel and I left Crosby by head-lamp. I remembered past years as I saw the sun come up in this section. It was still dark. I wondered how far I could get before the first 50 miler caught me. That became my new mini-goal: make it to the next aid station before getting caught by a 50 miler.

This is a long section. I asked Joel to do this section specifically. The first part of the section is a lot of climbing in and out of river gorges. The second half is five miles of some of the most runnable section of the entire course. In past attempts I was so mentally beat from the first half of this section, that I rarely ran the second half. Our run at Afton made it clear that Joel was the right person to get me running this late in the race. He pushed me to do what I needed to do.

For most of the section, he was behind me and let me set the pace. That worked well. After a couple of miles of that, Joel stepped in front and tried to be the pace setter. It was quickly discouraging, and he recognized that right away. We didn’t do that any more.

As the sun came up, Joel got a text from our friend Chris. Chris has been neck deep in grad school this year, and wasn’t able to make the trip to Superior. He was missed, but could still help from a distance. Chris encouraged us to pause and give thanks as the sun came up. He sent Joel this verse, which was read to me.

because of the tender mercy of our God,
    by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
    and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”

Luke 1:78-79

This section took us from an inland part of the trail, back out towards Lake Superior. As Joel and I saw the sun come up, we stopped read that passage and prayed. Joel thanked God for the night, and offered prayer for the day. I stopped and added a prayer as well. Partially because I meant it, and partially because it was 30 more seconds where I didn’t have to move.

Renewed by the sun, and the son, we took off down the trail.

We arrived at Sugarloaf 40 minutes ahead of schedule.

Sugarloaf – 72.3

8:20 am – 40 minutes ahead of schedule

I made it to the Sugarloaf aid station, and wasn’t passed by a 50 miler. Another small mini-goal had been achieved. I sat down and was offered a breakfast burrito. For the first time in the past 24 hours, I had an appetite. The plate actually had 2 burritos. I quickly finished one, and was about to grab the second when Kyle told Joel that he had grabbed us each one burrito. I decided not to eat Joel’s. That was probably a good call. I was hungry, but that much egg, sausage, and cheese would have been an issue.

As I sat and ate, I saw Jake Hegge come through as the lead 50 miler. He would eventually set a new course record. So I not only beat the first 50 miler to Sugarloaf, I beat the fastest 50 miler the course had seen. I was thrilled for Jake, and happy with my own run.

OK. now things are starting to get a little fuzzy. I think Joel did one more section with me beyond the Sugarloaf aid station. I don’t remember much about this section, except that we were heading to Cramer Road, where I was cut in 2017. I was well under the cutoffs this year, and was able to find joy in this section. Joel kept me running more than I had ever done here.

Cramer Road – mile 77.9

10:32 am – 26 minutes ahead of schedule

Joel and I got to Cramer road, and Kyle jumped in for one more section. If Joel got me to move, Kyle got me to eat. He worked with me to keep food going down here. We didn’t run as much of this section, but we did run some. But the calories would get me to the finish line.

Last year, I did this section with Greta (My oldest daughter) . I was hurting in 2018, and just couldn’t get motivated to get to the next cutoff. This year was different. I was better prepared, and had a team that had the experience to push me. But I thought of Greta a lot on this section. I enjoyed the time on the trail with her, and look forward to doing something like that again on a happier day.

As Kyle and I descended to the aid station, I noticed how well I could go down hill this year. In 2018, this descent was excruciating. My quads and toes were in rough shape. Hill training and better foot care had me in a good place this year.

Temperance – mile 85

1:26 pm – 24 minutes ahead of schedule

As we got to Temperance, I had the largest cheering section I would see until the finish line. Last year, this was my finish line. Kyle and Joel’s families both showed up to celebrate that I was NOT finishing here this year. As I saw them all, I also saw Greta and her boyfriend Josh waiting for me.

And… I … Lost it.

I’m a crier, but hadn’t had much in the way of tears this race. That ended at Temperance. The two of them drove 4 hours just to see me at one aid station. It turns out that I was far enough ahead of schedule that they had to go further than expected, and get there faster than expected. Greta got her first speeding ticket trying to catch me. (Yeah… that’s how fast I was going!!)

From here on out, I had no idea who was pacing me. My crew had a couple of surprises for me. Jason was going to jump in and crew me for this next section over Carlton Peak. Jason is a multi-time (like… 9?) finisher of this race, and a Superior legend. He is on the cover of the book about the race.

I had grabbed coffee with Jason a few times over the past year, and he was a big help in developing the mental, and digestive strategies I used this year. As far as I know, he had only ever paced his wife. It was an incredible honor to be paced by him for a section.

But when I learned who the next pacer would be, I lost it again and had a few more tears.

Steve has been with me on this journey since the very beginning. My first trail run, first ultra, and first experience at a 100 mile race were all with Steve. I am a trail runner because of him. He loves this sport and finds so much joy in the woods/mountains/desert/tundra. We share a deep love for God, and for each other.

I had paced Steve at his first 100 mile race (Kettle Moraine), and at his first Superior finish in 2014. Some recent issues had him facing surgery and questioning whether or not he would be able to enjoy the trails again. He was here to help me, but I didn’t expect him to suit up and hit the trail. When the team pointed to him and told me he was my next pacer, I got a bit emotional. It meant so much to share a part of this journey with him.

Jason and I took off. At this point every step represented the furthest I had ever gone on foot. He noted that my walking pace and running pace were not much different. He spent some time working with me on developing an “Intentional power hike”. That was a great lesson. I struggled on the climb up Carlton Peak again, but enjoyed the back side of the climb and the gradual descent to the aid station.

Sawbill – mile 90.7

3:46 pm – 24 minutes ahead of schedule

We got to Sawbill. A few of my crew’s wives were there. I sat down and started feeling a little sick to my stomach. I quickly grabbed a gallon sized ziplock bag and emptied some of my gut into it. I held up the clear plastic bag to my crew and said “Look guys… I’ve been eating!”.

Later I realized that while that may have been humorous to my crew, their families didn’t need to see that. Sorry! I was a little tired and the filter was gone.

Steve and I took off. This is probably the easiest section on the course, with very little climbing. We ran some of the section, and fast hiked the rest. Steve is one of the few people I know who is taller than I am. And at 6′ 6″, about 5′ 11″ of him is legs. His fast hike rivaled mine.

I remembered running into Steve on this section, years ago, when we were doing the Spring 50k as an out-and-back course. I was going out, and he was well ahead of me going back.

We pulled into Oberg.

Oberg – mile 96.2

6:11 pm – 19 minutes ahead of schedule

If you can get through Oberg before the 7:10pm cutoff, the word on the street is that you’ll be allowed to finish the race. So getting here close to an hour ahead of the cut-off was an emotional moment. I had a lot of friends working this aid station. Maria came over and gave me a high-five. More importantly, Katie had finished her Marathon, and came back do to the last 7.1 miles with me. She had a great race, but found herself rushing to make to Oberg on time, since I was running ahead of schedule. Again… a great problem to have.

Once again, I was a bit emotional here. Partially because my 3 year dream was in sight, and partially because I REALLY didn’t want to have to go 7.1 more miles. I headed out with Katie and Joel for the final leg of the journey.

Joel put Katie up ahead of me, and he stayed behind me. My climbing issues showed up in a significant way up Moose Mountain. I took way to long getting up that hill. Joel, long after the finish, said it appeared to be a mental thing. I had been talking about that climb for a while, and seemed to do much better on other climbs. But I couldn’t will myself up that hill fast enough. He gave me a fake pace I needed to keep, and we tried to push that. I had done some math in my head and realized that I had more cushion than he was giving me, but I also knew enough to not trust my mental math this late in a race (or any time after 10 miles).

On the more runnable sections, I would call out “Go” and “HO” to my crew as we would alternate running and walking on the trail. Slowly it got dark and the headlights went on. Katie was an incredible support in this section and seeing her up ahead was a big boost.

I saw some familiar faces in this section. Rolf was rallying to a strong finish. Robyn had passed me on her 50 mile journey with her trademark smiles, hugs, and infectious energy. Stephanie and her pacers were getting through this section as well.

As we were in the valley between Moose and Mystery mountains, we could hear (almost verbatim) the awards ceremony at the finish line. “Well, I guess I didn’t make the podium” I said to Joel and Katie. They laughed… but probably out of obligation.

I was watching the distance looking forward to mile 6. I knew that the last section was largely road and wide trail to the finish.

The single track Superior Hiking Trail ended a little earlier than I expected. Some new bike trail at Lutsen had widened things out considerably. I enjoyed the mental break.

As we hit the road, Joel’s kids were running along side us cheering and trying to light sparklers. They had planned quite the arrival.

I approached the finish line and got faster. It was going to happen! Joel left us and cut over to the finish area. Katie backed off to let me have my moment. After 37:25:52… I crossed the finish line. I bent over and yelled as the PA Announcer said “Finishing his first Superior 100, our friend, from Bayport Minnesota… Carl Bliss”.

I had set a goal of finishing by 37 hours. I was a little over that, but it was the first target time that I had missed. In retrospect, however, I really enjoyed finishing in that final hour. I’d love to do it faster some day, but there was so much energy at the finish line, and way too many familiar faces to name. Bobby, whose race had ended earlier than he had hoped, was there to celebrate. Mike who had finished HOURS ago went and fetched my finisher’s sweatshirt. Radek handed me a beer, and I took a seat. I sat there for the next 30 minutes just soaking it in, and listening to the rest of the field cross the finish line.

The journey, the failures, the attempts and the training taught me lessons I will be taking with me for the rest of my life. But those are other blog posts for another day.

Finish – mile 103.3

9:25 pm – 25 minutes behind schedule.

Logging your runs can be a valuable part of your race training. Strava is a great app for keeping track of your progress. But, it’s also a great way to share that progress with your friends.

Strava’s single greatest contribution to the world is that it has allowed runners  to move their workout-brags off of Facebook, where many non-running friends simply don’t care, and on to a platform made up exclusively of running and cycling friends who simply don’t care.

For the new Strava user, nothing is more important than learning how to title your workouts. While distance and pace are important fields to display, the title is the single most important piece of data, as it tends to put context on distance and pace.

Strava is an important tool for keeping track of your pace. But it’s an even more important tool for EXPLAINING your pace.

Here are a few tips as you select your Strava titles:

When running with a slower friend, be sure to call it out as an excuse for your pace:

Morning Run with Tim. Great conversation

See what happened there? I not only added Tim as a possible excuse for my run, but mentioning the conversation allowed me to casually point out that this was a very easy effort.

When running with a faster friend, don’t mention them. Take full credit for your pace.

Morning Run

Use the title to clarify the terrain… which also clarifies the pace

If you are running rolling hills, on rough single track trail, make it known

Morning Run, death loop technical, hill repeats, in the rain

But if your route is a 5% downhill on pavement, address the terrain this way:

Morning Run, easy pace

Remember… no one looks at the “Grade Adjusted Pace”, so take full credit for the downhill pace.

Look for other ways to explain a sub-par pace:

Recovery Run

Taper Run

Crazed dog blocked the trail

Run with my 4yo Nephew

Explain any technical issues

Any problems with your watch, or phone, are never an operator error. If you forgot to start your watch… blame it on the watch. If you forgot to stop the watch when you pulled off the trail to sit on the park bench… blame it on the watch. It’s never your fault.

Half marathon, but watch says 10 miles… stupid Strava

Watch didn’t log first 0.25 miles… stupid Garmin

Strava Fail… pace was faster.

Let Strava work for you.

I believe people go to the trail for one of two reasons. They are either looking to spend time with God, or are looking to replace Him. I go for the former, and battle turning it into the latter.

The 100 mile bug first bit in 2012, when I helped crew my friend Steve A. to his first 100 mile finish at Kettle-Moraine 100. There was something unique about every step. Watching him struggle through to a finish was inspiring. And oh… the aid station food!!!

Superior had become an annual weekend for me. I would make the trip up to volunteer, pace, crew, and run the shorter distance races. I enjoyed being a part of the 100 miler, but had a tough time seeing myself on the trail.

In October of 2016, the conversations began to happen among a number of my friends. Joel, Kyle, Chris, and (a different) Steve all indicated that they would like to run this one. I realized that I had a year to prepare, and that I’d never be younger than I was now. It helped to know that I’d have 4 other friends to train with and encourage me. That crew grew to 5 as Mike found our group of Stillwater based runners. I trained through a program from Bryon Powell’s book “Relentless Forward Progress”.

I worked some races into the schedule, including a 50K in Idaho, Zumbro 50, and Voyageur 50 (another race I have volunteered at often, but had never run). I put a stellar crew together which included my wife Katie, brother Nait, and 100 mile veteran Steve A. I poured into the logistics of the race with pace spreadsheets, course descriptions, drop-bag check-lists, and everyone else’s race reports. The project manager in me came pouring out.

Going into race weekend, the song Magnify by We Are Messengers became my prayer:

Oh God be greater, than the worries in my life
Be stronger, than the weakness in my mind
Be louder, let your Glory come alive
Be magnified

Thursday:

With my bags packed, and van loaded, Katie and I picked up Nait and drove to Duluth to meet up with the gang for coffee and some last minute gear purchases. We grabbed dinner together before heading to packet pickup (I have never seen so many people order “just water” to drink).

Packet pickup at the Superior 100 is a fun place to be. I have been there often, but never as a runner. The chance to connect with friends (“Are you ready?”… “Too late now!”) is just as enjoyable as John Storkamp’s great race briefings. It took my entire crew to haul in all 11 drop bags, and get them filed in the right places. The crew at TC Running Company was kind enough to personally ship a case of Vespa via Brian Klug. I connected with him and got my stash.

I went back to the cabin, pinned on my bib and tried to sleep. When I wasn’t laying in bed awake, imaging the trail… I was asleep dreaming about the trail. This was it… go time!

Friday:

Katie and I got up early and took off for the starting line, an hour away at Gooseberry Falls State Park. Just like packet pickup, there was something surreal about being here for MY run this year. As I checked in, I pulled my sweats down to show my bib number. Cheri Storkamp managed to snap a great photo of me with my pants down, as my humor attempted to mask my anxiety.

I stepped off into the woods to do a little business before heading out on the trail. On my way, I stepped in a low spot and soaked my right foot in rain water. I knew we had a river crossing 5 miles into the course, so I took this in stride and counted in my DryMax socks to do their work.

After connecting with friends… and waiting… I was off.

The first few miles are on paved trail. It’s a great chance to connect with other runners, and find the appropriate place in the pack. As I’m prone to do, I found myself going out a little fast. I pulled back and found some veteran 100 miles to pace with through the first section.

As the pavement gave way to Superior’s signature singletrack trail, I ran past a parking lot where Katie had parked our van while she volunteered at the Split Rock aid station. I grabbed a handful of flowers (weeds) and put them under her windshield wipers. The flowers are still sitting in our van.

This year’s course featured a wet crossing of the Split Rock River. Idaho had prepared me for the river crossing, and running with wet feet. The crossing was being manned by Todd, Bob, Maria, and other familiar faces. They had a good route scouted out, and we were back on trail in no time.

The descent to the Split Rock Aid Station took us down a spur for about a half a mile. It was great to see so many familiar faces as I made my way down to the station (and back out). Katie was working the aid station, and I had her fill my water bottles. I knew that it would be against the rules to have her stash anything special for me, but I did take a few extra seconds to get a good kiss before heading back out. I don’t think it broke any rules, but it was definitely performance enhancing.

I knew from working Split Rock last year, that this next section was the longest between aid. Leaving with plenty of water was vital. It’s just over 10 miles to Beaver Bay. I had 2 UD bottles in my vest. I set out to not touch the 2nd bottle until after 5 miles on this section. I didn’t have enough water. I was dry about a mile and a half before Beaver Bay. I came across my friend Mike on the trail. He was volunteering and spectating this weekend. Mike has continued to battle some serious health issues, and was an inspiration on the trail. He asked how I was doing. When I pointed out that I was coming in dry, he offered me a drink of his water. His selflessness in the face of my rookie mistake was appreciated. This section also included a beaver pond crossing that was thigh deep for me (and I’m tall). As I waded through the cold water, my leg cramped up and I winced and grabbed it. As soon as I did, I noticed something moving in the trees… a course photographer had captured that crossing. I haven’t seen the resulting photo, but hope to soon.

I came into Beaver Bay, and was excited to see my crew for the first time.  Ed and Michael, and Tisha, who were crewing my other friends, had stuck around to say “hi” as well. That meant a lot. Ahead of the race, I bought my crew matching trucker caps. The red hats made them easy to spot in the crowd (but I suppose also made them look like some serious Trump supporters…). Steve had gone back to the cabin to get a pair of shoes I had forgotten. Nait filled my bottles, and Katie made sure I was fed. The homemade cookies at Beaver Bay were incredible!

The next section to Silver Bay was a shorter section. I don’t remember a lot of the specifics, but I really enjoyed it. At Silver Bay, my crew made sure I didn’t make the water mistake again. They stuffed 2 extra bottles in the back of my UD vest. I used them. I got some encouragement from Reid and Alex, who were crewing my friend Rolf. These guys have been around since my first 50K, and it meant the world to get their encouragement as race veterans.

The section from Silver Bay to Tettagouche is a challenging section, but one of my favorites. The trails are well travelled, and in great shape. The overlooks are stunning. It’s long, but I thoroughly enjoyed this part of the trail. I came into Tettagouche Aid Station with a big smile on my face. I had grabbed a small light and a light jacket at the last aid station, but at this stop, I picked up my night kit as the sun would go down before I hit County Rd 6.

This section went fairly well, but I started to get very tired in the last few miles through Wolf Ridge. My body was trying to tell me it was bed time, and the 12+ hours on my feet weren’t helping the situation. I don’t remember arriving at the County Rd 6 aid station. My crew says I walked right past them. They finally got my attention, and took me to my stuff, where I laid down. As they tried to get some food in me, I started shaking and was not focused. They covered me with blankets, and put some warm soup in me. Jamison, the aid station captain and UMTR friend came over a few times to check on me. I finally got up to leave, but Steve and the rest of the crew stopped me. “I don’t feel comfortable sending you out like this”, he said. “I’d like you to come back and run another day”. From him, this was serious. He knows the lows that come during these things, but he was seeing something else. I had been there almost 45 minutes, and the cutoff was starting to loom. “Sweeps or Medics” I said. Reminding them that I said only the course cutoffs, or a serious medical issue, could take me off the course.

“You’re back”, Steve said. He later said, something completely changed. I was lucid, and ready to run. I had my hands on my safety pins, ready to turn in my bib, but the crew got me back on the trail with Katie pacing me. Next stop, Finland.

Saturday:

On the way to Finland, the lows hit again. I was having a hard time staying on the trail, and Katie had to keep me awake. A mile out of the aid station, I confessed to Katie that I was going to need to drop at Finland. “It’s just not safe… being out like this”. “Absolutely you can drop… that is a wonderful idea… and the van is nice and warm”. That’s what I heard her say… it turns out she said nothing of the sort. What she REALLY said was “We’ll make that call when we get there”.

It was also during this section that Katie let me know that Chris and Steve O. had had to drop due to medical issues. That made dropping seem even more approachable.

I sat down in Finland and told my crew “I think I need to be done now”. Steve encouraged me to spend 10 minutes sitting by the fire. Other than County Rd. 6, I had been doing a great job of keeping all of my aid station visits under 10 minutes. Sitting across the fire from me, Ben was going through the same thing with his crew. I first met Ben over 20 years ago, when we worked at the same camp. But we’ve only recently reconnected over the trails. He said he was having a rough time. I asked him if he was calling it quits. “Nope”, he said, “I’m a glutton for punishment”. He got up, and took off with his crew. I later came across his pacers at an aid station, and it sounds like he had completely turned his race around. Ben finished later that evening, and got his second Superior star.

As I sat by the fire, race director John Storkamp, came over and gave me a fist bump “The real King Carl”. I have no idea what the nickname means, but it’s become his name for me and I’ll embrace it. If you ever wonder what the RD is doing in the middle of the night while the runners are out… he’s setting up flags for the start of the next race.

As the 2am cutoff began to loom, my crew pushed me out of the aid station. “Sweeps or Medics” Nait reminded me. “Sweeps or Medics”. Steve handed me a water bottle filled with Coke. (I later mused that the water bottle looked just like one my girls had left in the minivan about 3 weeks ago. My crew looked a little sheepish about it. I don’t know if bacteria could help my race, but it sure didn’t hurt it.)

As we stepped back on the trail, I told Steve, I need to quit. It’s actually the first time I used those words. He wouldn’t have them. He said “Let’s do one more mile. We can turn around if we need to”.  His trail wisdom pushed me to create my own trail wisdom. Within a mile, I was wide awake, and back up to pace again. I was moving, and I didn’t quit.

That section of trail gradually became filled with the legendary roots of the Sonju section, and I knew I was about to be in for a treat. The Sonju Aid Station is only accessible to the volunteers and runners. Crews are not allowed there. They do the aid station up right. I feel bad for anyone who came into Sonju in daylight. They missed out on a light show treat. I sat down by the fire and repacked my bag, as Steve grabbed some nutrition. “How is it going?” Maria asked. “I made the difficult decision to drop at Finland”, I said. She looked confused until I pointed at Steve. “But this jerk wouldn’t let me”.

I had a half a hamburger at this aid station. The patty was dry, and tough, and THE BEST DARN HAMBURGER I’VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE!! The real food is something I need to be better about taking in. My stomach can only take so much Ensure and Hammer.

We got out of the aid station, and took the relatively short 5 mile journey to Crosby Manitou Aid Station. At Crosby, I ran into Lisa, and her crew. Lisa was running into some issues, but her crew got her back out on the trail. It was encouraging to that these things are somewhat normal. It was also at Crosby, that the first 50 milers flew by.

Steve and I took off to Sugarloaf. This section is a bit longer, and has some decent climbs early. My pace was starting to lag, on tired feet. I’m good at getting up hills quickly, but the power that I had a few hours ago, was starting to go away. This course can beat up even the biggest quads.

“I’ve been doing some math” said Steve. “We’ll clear Sugarloaf by more than an hour, but then things are going to get tough”. We calculated the pace I needed to keep to hit the Cramer Road Aid Station cutoff. I hadn’t kept that pace since Friday evening. Trying to hit it would be a “Hail Mary” pass, but it was a pass I could take.  Plus, Nait hadn’t been on the trail yet, and this was his place to pick me up. I had to at least get him out for a section.

With a couple of miles to go, I pulled over to do a stomach reset. I won’t go into details, but it’s not a pleasant thing to come across. Right then, a group of 50 milers climbed the hill. Alex was among them, and he gave me some encouraging words, and an empathetic look.

As we got to Sugarloaf, Katie was a quarter mile out of the aid station. “Your cousin Martha is here!” she said. Martha (my Dad’s cousin), and her husband Peter, were in the area and had been tracking my progress. On their way home, they recognized Sugarloaf Road, and decided to wait to see me there. They had been waiting well over an hour. I got choked up (as I’m prone to do on these things). It meant so much to see them. My crew also surprised me with a clean pair of socks I didn’t know I had. Nait and I got out of the aid station and took off for Cramer.

We got to Cramer 5 minutes after the cutoff.

I had told Nait to just keep acting like we’re going through. I didn’t think there was grace on the cutoffs… but I’d let someone else tell me I was done. I wasn’t going to make that call for myself.

“Great run” the aid station captain said, “but you missed the cutoff”. After 77.9 miles, and 29:45… My day was over.

I had my first DNF.

At mile 50, I decided to quit, but my friends helped me find something I didn’t know I had. They helped me find another 28 miles. They made the difference between “I quit”, and “I was cut”. I would have had no pride in the former. I can live with the latter.

Again?

This was a chance to learn some lessons. I believe the race would have been different if I hadn’t spent an extra hour at aid stations dealing with fatigue. I need to remember that that passes. I need to handle that better. I now have the experience to help me get through that.

I feel like I was too close to a finish to not do this again. I don’t know if I will do it in 2018, or 2019, but I know I’ll try this again.

Reid reminded me, “This weekend is a celebration of the transformation that has taken place over the past year”.  That is true. The weekend was meaningful, but the real value has been in what a year of training has done to me physically and spiritually.

I told Katie I might look at doing the Kettle-Moraine 100 next year.

“You don’t want a 100 mile finish,” she said. “You want THIS 100 mile finish”.

Epilogue:

My parents wanted to be here for this weekend, but they were not able to. I later learned that my entire family, and many friends, were tracking me online. I have done enough trail running, that I assumed this would be no big deal to any one else. But they all seemed to realize that this was something special.

About 5 days after the race, I received a package from my father. He had custom ordered stickers with my new longest distance. 77.9 miles.

I am not one to put a distance sticker on my car anymore, but I will put this one on my car. It’s a reminder of this journey, of my shortcomings, and of unfinished business.