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| The view back, halfway home from the first turnaround. |
This was not a race, per se, but rather one of the breed of "Fat Ass" runs that have sprung up around the country in the past several years. As you can see in the post about the run here, this was a minimally supported, adventure type run taking place at night. The general idea is to run around a half-marathon distance in two legs, at night, on a frozen river.
When I read about this on the Upper Midwest Trail Runners Facebook page, I knew I had to do it. So after driving up to Duluth to visit the ice caves the day prior, we drove back on Saturday, February 15th and, while G went to babysit for a friend, I prepared everything I thought I'd need for a 9-12PM (I figured I was being generous on time, you'll see whether I was later on) run on a frozen river. I will share the gear list at the end of this post.
I realized, as I drove in the dark and light snow, that I did not remember ever going to Stillwater before. I have been many places in Minnesota, but unless my parents are reading this and will correct me, I do not believe I've been to that area along the St Croix River. Arriving in the town for the first time, I emerged from my car at the same time as another runner (Ben, who it turns out is trying his hardest to move to Boulder) and we joined a third runner in looking for Joel's office. This turned out to be a beautiful loft in an old brick building, where around a dozen other runners had already gathered.
As it got closer to the 8:35 (not 8:30) briefing, more runners trickled in, until the total of 37 runners, more than twice as many as the year before, were packed into the conference room. Joel proceeded, and there's no other way to put it, to warn us about the myriad difficulties we would encounter. It had warmed up, then snowed, leaving a semi-crust of 4-8" of snow on top of the previously clear snowmobile "highway." He warned us repeatedly not to go out too fast, and told us stories from last year about a major bonk by a road runner who had gone out too quickly. He also repeated his early statement that running on the river was like "riding a trike with one wheel the shape of an egg and one the shape of a triangle."
With some trepidation, we proceeded to head out the door, out to the aid station (and bonfire!). From here, we proceeded to run out over the lift bridge to the Wisconsin side of the river (where we would run for the rest of the night) and took a right, heading south out on to the frozen ice for the first 6-mile out and back. We immediately found out just how hard this was going to be. The snowmobile highway was difficult, but if you slipped off it, which was easy to do, it was more like running in 4-6" of mashed potatoes.
I was consciously keeping the pace really slow at this point, having been suitably warned about taking it out too quickly. Nevertheless, I was near the front of the pack and, when another runner stopped to adjust a piece of gear, I ran up to the frontrunner, a guy named Dave, and we proceeded to run together. Around the halfway point, the piers of an unfinished bridge rose up to either side, and we found a truck track on the ice (I would have liked to see the truck that made it), and while it wasn't easy running per se, it was easier than no track at all. We followed it almost the whole way to the point of land where we turned around, increasing both our pace and distance run by doing so.
The turnaround took us through an ice fishing camp, and the sounds of drinking and music, with the sight of lights through the cracks in the doors, tempted us to stop, but we turned around and headed back the way we came. Back into the night and the narrow illumination of our headlamps.
It was about this time that I realized that it was no harder for me to go a little faster, and I started leaving everybody behind. Runners passed me on their way out, cheering each other on and generally laughing and having a good time, while I pointed out a more direct route to the turnaround.
Running easy still, or as easy as you can on the river, I left the other runners farther and farther behind as I made my way back towards the lantern that marked the turn into the aid station. The left turn at the lantern, across to the Minnesota side of the river, and up the bank was easily the hardest part of the course, with deep, unconsolidated snow sucking your shoes down at each step.
I did not exactly rush the aid station, as this wasn't an official race. I probably took 5+ minutes chatting, drinking some broth, and having a couple snacks while the volunteers filled my water bottles and helped the other runners. Kudos to them for putting on a great aid station, complete with bonfire, and taking their Saturday night to help a bunch of freeloading runners! That was awesome!
Since I didn't really know where to go next (it was an unmarked course), I waited for Dave again before we took of on the Northward leg of our trip. Avoiding the slush under the roadway (the road salt tends to melt the ice under the bridge), we made our way under the lift bridge and onwards.
The footing was immediately worse. Clearly there had not been as much snowmobile traffic this side of the bridge, or the wind was worse, or something. But regardless, the footing took a decided turn to the mushy. At the same time, I started getting the hang of running on the river. Joel had warned us that it would be impossible to get into a groove on the river. I found differently. It's impossible to get into a groove if you run by sight, but if you run by feel, finding the firm sections with your feet and following them as long as they led, it was possible for me to get into a groove for 100 yards or more at a time, before the firm snow inevitably disappeared and I had to find another "groove."
I had to hold myself back a bit here, as I didn't want to outdistance Dave, who was carrying the marker glowstick to mark the turnaround, and was planning to run a full 2 miles farther than I was out on the river. Two or so miles in, we ran into a pack of snowshoers who had headed north instead of south at the outset, who informed us that the ice fall was about half a mile away, and also solved the mystery of whose tracks we had been following the whole way north.
We ended up running just a bit too far north. Since neither of us had a GPS (oops), we weren't sure exactly how far we'd run. But after running by a point of land jutting out from the Wisconsin side, which I thought had to be the turnaround, we took a look at the map, and sure enough, we'd gone a quarter mile too far. As Dave ran on to mark the rest of the course (fruitlessly, as everybody else decided to turn around at the falls), I took a glowstick and ran back to the turnaround point, and from there headed back towards the finish.
I didn't see anybody else for almost ten minutes on my way back (meaning I was at least two miles ahead at this point), and I ran into only three groups of runners, totaling about 7 more people, on the way back. It seems everybody else had decided 6 miles was enough for the night, and gone back to the potluck earlier. It was only in the last half mile or so that fatigue really set in, and I was glad to be able to see the lift bridge, and its accompanying lantern, from a good ways away, guiding me in after a long night on the river.
I finished in 3:06 total elapsed time, 2:36 running time, for an average pace of almost exactly 12 minutes per mile running. While it wasn't officially a race, I pushed reasonably hard: it probably would have been race pace had the distance been ~18-20 miles rather than 12 or so.
The after-party was well under way when I finally got back up to the loft/office. People had come loaded with meatballs, pulled pork, chips and salsa, and all sorts of adult beverages. I milled around for a while, settling down after the night's effort, and to my surprise one of the snowshoe pack turned out to work for the Star Tribune and wanted to do a quick interview.
That was a first for me.
My hope in this is that I came off well, and didn't seem like a jerk for hitting the pace so hard. As I mentioned, once I realized it didn't seem any harder to run a bit faster, I opted to go at my comfortable pace and be out for a little less time. I made a point of stopping to chat with the three groups I met on the way back for a minute or two each time, and all in all enjoyed myself thoroughly.
After all, how often do you get to join a group of 36 other people for a 6-16 mile run on a frozen river at night?
An adventure for sure.
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