I couldn’t believe the time discrepancy of the climb up Scary Trail versus the descent on Mount Marquette Road. Despite my cautious descent, it took maybe two minutes after climbing for eons. To no surprise, Gurly was also much easier descending mid-race than ascending during my first scouting ride. I looked forward to getting out of my wet grit-laden clothes as soon as the trails drained, so I took the opportunity of a full wardrobe change in the outhouse at South Marquette Trailhead. I figured the mud had packed into my cleats, causing issues clipping in. Luckily the next stretch didn’t have as much hike-a-bike, so I instructed my crew to clean my cleats and have my shoes dry at Lowes. When asked how they should accomplish it, I gave them the creative liberty to figure it out. Crews do a ton of thankless things on race day and blow drying someone’s stinky, muddy shoes is just another task on that long list.
Going with the flow
After several (almost too easy) miles of fast & flowy singletrack, I was back to reality on the doubletrack north of Hwy 41. Since the trail uses private property, we can’t scout this trail. What appeared on paper to be “easy” turned out to be energy-sucking. As I had done earlier on the snowmobile trail between Negaunee and South Marquette, I took what the trail gave me when I hit the sandy portions. Rather than expending extra energy spinning through the sand, I kept a methodical pace until I couldn’t and then dismounted for the thousandth time for yet another hike-a-bike. I couldn’t believe I was still meeting runners all the way to here.
Lowes Trail was such a treat since there were essentially trail markers in the backwards direction. Since no trail markers were allowed on trees, I could easily spot trail markers on stakes intended for the forward direction. The final 100 miles would be so luxurious with trail markers!
After passing the first riders I’ve seen since mile 27, I was thrilled to connect with a small pack of riders after a brief stop. I was nearly hypnotized on Silver Lead as we constantly wove back and forth on the downhill like an amusement park ride. I struggled to maintain the downhill pace. With a slight bobble, I had not only lost contact with the pack, but I couldn’t even see a headlamp. I couldn’t believe it; I hadn’t even tapped down…how could they be gone that quick? Now with hesitating at intersections, especially since I hadn’t ridden this trail in the dark nor in this direction, there was no hope I’d catch them. Company was short-lived, and I continued on my solitude journey into the darkness as I circumnavigated the reservoir.
Lost in the woods
I had deemed Pine Knob unrideable for my skill level and planned to not even attempt to ride the trail. As expected, the route finding in the dark also was a factor and I’m incredibly thankful for my Garmin. Despite all the nuisance “off route” alarms, this was the one time I was truly off route. In the darkness, I had somehow circled back on myself and had begun backtracking! This would have been demoralizing since I was almost done with the nearly mile hike-a-bike and I would have most certainly not realized my error until reaching the trail intersection, resulting in almost three miles of continuous hike-a-bike! Thankfully, disaster averted.
For the first time since the opening section, I became out-of-touch with where I was and suddenly found myself at Forestville Trailhead. The plan to place a slow moving vehicle sign (which I almost ditched at home) near the trail worked marvelously to find my crew in the dark. I’d be meeting every single out-and-back rider on this section. Once again, I cheered each rider on. I was surprised that nearly every rider was solo ahead of me. Perhaps I wasn’t riding at a disadvantage as a Lone Ranger after all. Despite being confident in my navigation on this section, I had enough hesitation at intersections that I couldn’t wait to have trail marking for the rest of the way! I was also thankful that I was well enough ahead of cutoff that I wouldn’t end up being forced to wait on the climb up Beagle Club Road as hundreds of 100 milers flew down.
Around and around
The old railway line near Harlow Lake seemed much easier in this direction than the forward direction and the climb up Beagle Club Road was very manageable. However, lugging up my bike to the Top of the World was not…especially when I lost the trail, got cliffed out, and had to carry my bike down the boulders I had just struggled hoisting my bike up. All so fitting for Marji.
I arrived at the halfway point at the Forestville Trailhead ready to tackle the forward direction…with trail markings! I managed to not puncture a tire on the old railroad spikes protruding on old railway line. I did however manage my second hardest fall as I jumped on the trail. The highlight of my second lap around Harlow Lake was meeting Jenny Acker and Jill Martindale still on pace to finish.
Soon after leaving Forestville, I kicked myself for accidentally beginning my Pine Knob hike-a-bike too early. I accidentally hike-a-biked Mildcat, no wonder it looked rideable! The prelude resulted in extending my continuous hike-a-bike to almost 1 ½ miles.
Day 2
I progressed to Lowes Trail and couldn’t believe I was hearing heavy metal before daylight for the 100 mile racers. As I neared the South Marquette trailhead I was hoping the 50 mile riders wouldn’t be riding up Flow as I was trying to descend. I had glimpsed a Marji 2-way trail sign there on the way out and fretted this was part of the 50 mile course. I’d be the only SOL that would need to negotiate past a conga line. I kept checking my watch and trying to figure out where I might meet them. What time did they start? How many miles of road did they have before connecting to the trails? And where did they jump onto the 100 mile course? After fretting for hours, I was relieved to make it down Flow without seeing a single person. I didn’t pre-ride Flow since it was a last minute addition to the 2024 course and boy, its name was a paradox.
As I ascended Gurly, I could see the 50 mile riders flying down Mount Marquette Road. I was thinking my crossing to Doctor Trail may get dicey but I got the perfect break in riders and my crossing was uneventful. My climb up Mount Marquette Road took a bit (*heavy sacarsm*) longer than my earlier stint down. After descending Scary Trail, the first sign for a token was at (of course) an opportune place to lose momentum. The first of several empty jack-o’-lanterns, I imagined the smirk on Todd’s face and continued on to Marquette Mountain.
Issues
My cleats were becoming very problematic to clip in. I figured out that if I went very pigeon-toed, I could get them in slightly easier. So when I met up with my crew, I asked to have them inspected. Although a missing screw explained why one shoe was problematic, why was the other shoe equally bad? Turns out I unclipped so often, that I wore out the brand new cleats I broke in just in time for the race. The climb up Off Grade was far less stressful than the descent in the opposite direction. I enjoyed the dry trails as I buzzed on the Pioneer Loop which were now completely dry before connecting with the snowmobile trail. I caught up to the first runner near the Wurst Aid Station.
The Iron Ore Heritage Trail buzzed by this time since I had to call my crew to figure out a game plan since she was crewing her husband in the 100 and shuttling another rider’s car. I didn’t bother stopping in Jackson Park and began catching 50 mile riders. The frequency was so often that I soon realized the energy expenditure to offer encouragement was beyond my reserves. Although every rider offered me encouragement, I was now mute. I couldn’t believe when a rider passed me. I was in denial that with my 35 mile head start I had already been caught by 100 milers. Luckily with that big of a speed disparity it took a blink for the rider to pass me.
I was assessing and I had less than the ideal amount of fluid, electrolytes, and fuel. I worried that if I misjudged the time to meet my crew I might start digging myself into a hole. I rationed, but determined I’d stop at the next road crossing if anyone was willing to give me fluids just in case I had misunderstood where my crew was waiting for me. When I heard a chainsaw revving, it took a bit to place myself on the course since the heat was getting to me. Was the heat getting to me? Or my sleep deprivation, electrolyte depletion, calorie deficit, or simply overexertion? I didn’t know, but all I could do was manage each of these elements the best I could so nothing got out of control. I finally realized I was at Stoned Hinge and I needed to hike-a-bike the descent. Even if I was good enough to ride down it, the crazy turn at the bottom through the rocks has to be impossible for any rider to negotiate, right? My crew was exactly where I expected her and I got everything replenished. With all the makeshift aid stations set up at road crossings, I found that shouting “Candy, Candy” as I did earlier in the race misled generous spectators to think I wanted to consume candy. I was so far gone that it never occurred to me after it happened the first time to shout “Candance”! so I had a reoccurance at my next pit stop.
The remaining miles to Jackson Park was a borderline death march. I realized I hadn’t peed in several hours and I wouldn’t be able to make it to Jackson Park. With riders crawling over the course like ants, I had to figure out how to go without offending anyone. I devised I’d wait until there was a decent gap and then get really close to catching the next person and then stop. On my first attempt the rider heard me coming and was all too eager to let me pass so I had to wait for another opportunity. When the opportunity came, my bladder was quite full so it seemed like I’d never finish in time, but I managed to squeeze it all out before anybody rounded the corner, whew.
With the mercury topping out near record highs, I was dreaming of ice at Jackson Park. I could tell I was on the edge. Plus my cleats were nearly impossible to clip in. More often than not, my feet were sitting atop the eggbeater pedals as I tried to get up the punchy hills and I’d finally get clipped in just in time to unclip. I rolled into Jackson Park which was an absolute zoo. I struggled to find my crew and when I did it was pretty hectic. I couldn’t go any longer in these cleats and waited for my crew to run back to the car to get my backup shoes (again). Ironically, I had ruled out these shoes for the home stretch with expecting to be worn out and hike-a-biking a ton. I didn’t care if I’d be tapdancing on rocks, I was so relieved to have shoes I could instantly clip in! I was so thankful two strangers offered me unlimited ice when they overheard my request. I had plenty of experience on my FKTs to know that I had survived the heat of the day and that it would be cooling off now. I had just one leg left. As I left Jackson Park I was quite queasy and was burping profusely. Luckily, the first mile of singletrack was flowy downhill (at least by Marji standards) and it got me feeling pretty zippy and hopeful there was still a chance I could finish before dark. I had a couple women riders give me quite the cheers as I passed them on a switchback. I felt like I was letting them down since I was running on fumes and couldn’t even acknowledge them.
