2024 Superior 100 Mile Fall Trail Race

Watch our journey on YouTube

Thank goodness, because there was a lot of prep to do! While we would be utilizing a crew, we also had drop bags at every aid station just in case anything happened to our crew along the way, or if El and I got separated. I created the most beautiful spreadsheet to determine how many calories to put in each bag based on our estimated completion times, and which food items would make up those calories. I landed on a handful of staple items: SIS gels, fig bars, Bobo’s PBJs, mashed potatoes, and trail mix. This was in addition to all of the gear to consider - vests, bottles, poles, head and waist lamps, extra batteries, emergency kit, warm clothes, extra shoes and socks, the list goes on and on. I hemmed and hawed over what to put in drop bags vs the back pack that our crew would bring to each stop. I meticulously packed the labeled bags and checked the contents of each three times before sealing them up. I felt as prepared as I could possibly be, also acknowledging that the plan could go out the window at any time.

The day before race day, we packed up and hit the road at 2:30pm, which got us to bib pick up in Two Harbors right after 5:00pm. The energy was palpable. A swarm of racers, pacers, and crew grabbing bibs, dropping bags, and getting their infamous starting photo taken. Of course there were a sea of black Superior hoodies, I was so ready to earn that damn thing. We ran into lots of familiar faces, and it made me reflect upon all of our previous races that have woven El and I into this community of amazing people. As I picked up my bib, I was so proud to be grabbing the pink ribbon this year. I remember seeing them towards the end of my 50 last year and calling each and every one of them my hero. I carefully placed each of our drop bags in the corresponding giant aid station bags, and felt a weight lifted as I walked away. All of the prep work is done, now all that’s left to do is run.

We heard that the place to go for dinner was Castle Danger. There we met a group of folks who would be running or supporting in the coming days. We ordered pizza from Do North, which ended up being the perfect pre-race dinner. I think I ate my half in under 10 minutes it was so good. Our crew, my best friend Falyn and her fiancé, Nate, met us there and I lost it when they showed up in matching “Team Melliot” shirts. I’ll admit, I was a little nervous as they ordered beers and played it aloof. They had zero experience with these events, and while we did our best to prepare them for what was to come, there is no way to know what it entails until you experience it. Hell, I'd never even done it, and therefore didn't even have my own experience to draw upon. But these two would show us over the next 48 hours that they were the best damn crew I could have ever asked for. We hung for a bit, but I didn’t want to stay too late. We had a big day (or two) ahead of us. I was happy to get to bed by 10:30pm, allowing my body a solid 6 hours of rest.

We had minimal prep to do in the morning. Our shuttle was set to arrive at 6:00am, so we took our time eating breakfast (PB toast and banana), doing a final supply check, and loading up our vests before heading out. I took a lot of time on the bus to rest my eyes, knowing I wouldn’t rest them for at least another 40 hours. It was a quiet, peaceful ride as I and the small pack of runners mentally prepared for the feat we were about to take on.

When we arrived at the Gooseberry Falls Visitor Center, the frenetic energy brought me to life. There were already quite a few runners there and we still had an hour before go time. The weather could not have been better with temps in the low 40s. I was very comfortable in my shorts, t-shirt, and sleeves. We enjoyed that space and time to connect with our friends, share our excitement for the moment, and smash some of Elliot’s homemade baby cakes. Months of training were culminating into the great unknown of a 100 mile adventure. I felt ready. Ansty. Grateful. As John went through the pre-race announcements, I did one final meditative self reflection, put down a SIS gel, and just like that, we were moving. A herd of runners heading to an unknown destiny. Spectators lined the road out of Gooseberry, the last we’d see in this capacity for the next 36 hours. We had a lot of alone time in the woods ahead of us.

The Superior 100 Mile Trail Race is one of the oldest 100 milers in the country. The 2024 race ran 102.9 miles point to point from Gooseberry Falls to Lutsen, and boasted over 17,000 feet of elevation gain and 17,000 feet of descent. The entire course takes place on the Superior Hiking Trail, which is an extremely technical, rugged, and magical trail that runs along the north shore of Lake Superior. I could go on, but I would again recommend Kevin’s book to get an incredible account of the beauty of this course.

The first 4-5 miles of the course are on pavement, and it’s really easy to get caught up in the adrenaline early on and go out too fast. I heard Scott in my head telling me to keep the pace easy, and we did. I was super excited to run into Kevin himself, and have the opportunity to tell him how much his book helped me. I then watched him take off. We also ran into our buddy Blake and paced with him for a bit as we chatted, but he also got excited and took off. We stuck with our plan and kept it easy. Soon enough, we hit the trail head, and it was time for the adventure to begin.

The first half of the course was new to us, it was fun to have unseen trail to explore. I was pleasantly surprised to find the earlier sections to be quite runnable. It was still your typical SHT shenanigans, but it was much better than I had expected. I found myself getting antsy in the conga line of runners. We hitched behind a guy named Scott who was holding a strong pace, but eventually I felt like we were slowing down and I was finding myself wanting to pass. I heard Henderson in my head telling me to enjoy the conga line, save some energy for later. And I did. For a while. And then I couldn’t help but ask myself if I was holding back too much. I didn’t want to burn myself out, but I also wanted to capitalize on the fitness that I had worked so hard to build. I decided to go for it and made the pass. I was surprised that Elliot didn’t follow. But I knew I wouldn’t get too far ahead, so I stuck with the pace that felt right for me. He’ll catch me at the aid station.

When I arrived at Beaver Bay, I spotted Falyn and Nate right away. I was nervous as we were quite a bit ahead of schedule, but they were tracking us all morning and fully on top of it. Falyn snatched up my water bottles and went to fill them and I asked Nate about our drop bag. “We didn’t see it,” he said. Falyn confirmed and expressed her confusion. I went to double check. Sure enough, no drop bag. I tried not to panic, there was nothing critical in that bag. I probably put it in the wrong bag at drop off or it got misplaced, no biggie. I had extra gels since we were ahead of schedule, so I just loaded up with some aid station snacks and shook it off. Elliot arrived shortly after me as anticipated. We were already 19 miles in and cruising along. On to Silver Bay!

When we saw Fal and Nate at Silver Bay, they were fully prepared for us. Drop bag pulled and ready. Backpacks open with items displayed in case we needed anything. They let us know what the aid station had for food. They were fuckin’ killing it. I was so grateful. To our surprise, our first pacer, Jon #1 (both our pacers were named Jon), was also there. He was all jazzed up for us, and it was so great to see him and feel his energy. “You got warm clothes and a head lamp?” He asked. I looked at him confused. It was only 2:00pm. Then he reminded me that there was no crew at the next aid stop, and the next two legs totaled nearly 20 miles. If we stayed on our 30 hour finish pace, we’d see them at County Road 6 at 7:30pm. That reality sunk in quick and hard, but I accepted it and moved forward, thankful for the mental preparation before departing from our amazing team.

When we arrived at the Tettagouche aid station, we were ready for a quick in and out. No crew. No drop bags. All business. The aid station volunteer stopped us to ensure we had everything we needed to get through the next section - calories, hydration, headlamp, something warm. He also had us take salt caps. I learned after the race that the volunteer was John Horns, who has won this race twice before. How humbling! I remember thinking, man, this guy really knows what he's doing. Now I know why.

Soon enough we were County Road 6 bound. This section started out great, pretty runnable. But then, the climbs started, along with extensive technical sections that were nearly impossible to run. It slowed us down and made the segment feel noticeably longer than the last. On the bright side, our stomachs were happy and we were able to keep shoveling food in. I was hoping to make it to the aid station before sunset, but the woods got dark quickly and we had no choice but to bust the headlamps out. We strolled in at around 8:15pm, about 45 minutes behind a 30 hour finish time pace.

County Road 6 aid station was HOPPIN’! Blaring music, tons of people, lots of energy. Even at 42 miles in, I found myself dancing. I couldn’t help it. I was feeling the vibe! I got some delicious pierogis compliments of Jodee, man did they hit the spot. With the sun down, it was time for long sleeves and my waist lamp. Jon #1 was geared up and ready to rock, and helped keep us from spending too much time lingering. We set out with renewed energy from our new partner in crime. Let’s tackle the night!

Jon is a great conversationist. He asked us questions and told us stories. He also knew the trail incredibly well and told us where all the best camp sites were. We ended up coining him The Tour Guide. We were moving well and making up lost time. I had been excited for the night run all day. I’d only run through the night once before, and it was a magical experience. Superior took it to the next level. It was so quiet, calm, and peaceful. The air was crisp, chilly, and invigorating. The stars were out of this world. Jon was always there to let us know when it looked runnable. “You think you could pick it up a little?” he’d ask in the most polite and encouraging way. It was all I needed to hear to charge ahead.

We made quick work to Finland, another bomb aid station. The mashed potatoes plopped in a cup of hot veggie broth were to die for. It was also time to start putting down some coffee. We would not have crew at the next stop, so we were looking at about 12 miles until we’d see Falyn and Nate again. Whom, I must note again, were just crushing this whole crewing gig. They had found their rhythm and effortlessly refilled our bottles, offered us supplies, told us how great we were doing, kept the energy high, and took lots of pictures. They continued to be a highlight along the course. But it was time for them to get some rest while we put in some time on the trail.

I made the poor decision to stick with shorts and completely forgot that I even had a jacket packed. The forecast said low 40s/high 30s so I figured I’d be fine. But my two layers of long sleeves, gloves, and buff were not enough. And we weren’t moving very quickly, which meant my body wasn’t generating much heat. It was uncomfortable to say the least. When we got to Sonju, I immediately went to the fire to thaw out my fingers. I knew this was dangerous and I couldn’t linger long, so I stayed only as long as I needed. I put down some more coffee to warm up my insides and give me another caffeine boost and pulled my mashed potatoes from my pack to snack on for the trek to Crosby-Manitou. Let’s get this done!

When we set out it felt slightly warmer at first, and we were still moving well. But as we progressed, it got colder and colder. I found myself shrugging my shoulders uncontrollably to keep warm. I was blowing warm air into my gloves to keep my hands from going numb as I passed my cold ass potatoes from one hand to the other. I was dreaming of my pants that entire section. When we arrived at the next aid stop, we were ahead of schedule. This is usually a good thing, but I had told Falyn and Nate not to expect us before 3:45am, and it was 3:22am, so they weren’t there. Shit. I took my time gathering items from my drop bag, smashing pancakes, soup, and coffee at the aid station, and warming up by the fire. My friend Mark took such great care of me, helping me get what I needed since my hands were frozen and not working properly. And soon enough, there Falyn and Nate were, 5 minutes earlier than when we told them to be there. Pants!! Sweet, sweet pants. And my GORE-TEX jacket. It felt so damn good to be warm. And to be over the half way mark, even though I was trying not to think about it that way. It was also reassuring to know we’d have crew at every stop from here on out. It was time to take on our last segment with Jon #1 before picking up Jon #2.

The segment to Sugarloaf was only 5.6 miles, but it felt twice as long. As soon as we set out, I felt a sharp pain in my right shin. I could tell immediately that it was the type of pain that wasn’t going to pass. Not like my hip and glute issues that worked themselves out early on. This was going to be problematic, and we were only 62 miles in. I verbalized it for awareness, and kept my pace up as best I could. The good news was that I was warm, and it was already 4:00am. Daylight would be coming soon. As much as I loved the night run, I wanted to be able to pick up the pace again. My waist light stopped working at Crosby, and my headlamp did not give me the same confidence. The beginning of this section was quite technical and not very runnable, especially in the dark. We had all grown quiet with fatigue. But as the sun rose, a new life was breathed into us. I had succumb to ibuprofen and it was kicking in. We picked it up as best we could, arriving at Sugarloaf around 7:30am.

We were about 1.5 hours behind our 30 hour pace, which we knew was an aggressive goal. But when we arrived, Jon #2 was more than patient with us. He drove up the night before and slept in his car. For real. What a guy, right? He allowed us time to pull ourselves together after the night stretch. I couldn’t wait to brush my teeth. I pounded down quesadillas and pancakes, they were rocking my world. And then, the final 50k was calling. It was time to jet. We bid our farewell to Jon #1, thanking him profoundly for all he had done for us, and set out to Cramer Road.

The next section was only 5.5 miles, and I was thankful for a shorter stretch. I felt great out the gates after our aid station rest, but the pain and fatigue slowly came on as we went. I couldn’t run well, and every step felt like I was accumulating damage in my shin. I was excited for the climbs, they hurt less. The descents made me wince in pain. But most of this section was manageable. We pulled into Cramer around 9:45am, and were falling so far behind our 30 hour pace it wasn’t even worth tracking anymore. It felt better to acknowledge that we were still 4 hours ahead of cutoff. Falyn and Nate continued to encourage us, telling us we were crushing it. We lingered a little too long before taking off to Temperance.

The next 6.9 mile stretch from Cramer to Temperance took us about 2.5 hours, which meant we were pacing 21:45 minute miles. Not ideal, but we were getting it done. It was the perfect timing for Elliot’s mom and my daughters to surprise us. My face lit up like a Christmas tree. We were now 84.5 miles in and the hallucinations were starting. “Is this chair moving?” I asked my daughter, Isla. “Are you being serious?” she asked back. I was. It was nuts. In the bathroom, I’d find hundreds of black specs swirling across the bathroom floor and walls. Elliot had been seeing things since mile 70. Dogs. Cats. People. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Except my shin. It was getting worse, and my left ankle was starting to ache from compensating. I taped them both with medical tape before heading back out, praying it might provide some stability. Sawbill here we come.

Elliot thought we had close to a half marathon left. When I told him it was closer to 19 miles, he was visibly deflated. It set us out on a slow pace. I was thankful for Jon #2, a fresh pacer with new energy and some incredibly deep conversation. He helped keep our spirits up and attitudes positive. But my shin was screaming, and I couldn’t help but whine about it. Elliot reminded me that I had to accept my reality and control what I can. Solid advice. When we got to the Sawbill, I asked for a medic. They peeled off the athletic tape and strapped a bag of ice to my right shin. I popped more ibuprofen. I ate more quesadillas and pancakes. I accepted my reality. It took longer than I wanted, but it was the attention I needed.

When we set out to Oberg, I still couldn’t run, but it allowed me to power hike. I did my best to hold pace and stay strong. I asked El, “Do you remember if this section is hard or not?” He was wondering the same thing. We soon came to realize, it was. It was Carlton Peak time. Seemingly endless climbs and a triple false summit scrambling up rocks. Elliot passed me and cruised ahead. I felt defeated. I felt like I was slowing us down. Jon was right behind me. “Maybe he just needs to shit,” he suggested. I laughed, and appreciated the lightness of his comment so very much. But I knew that wasn’t the case. Elliot was in the zone, and feeling much stronger than me. I hollered at him to slow down and wait for me. He did. I apologized for dragging, holding him back. He shut me down. “You’re not,” he assured me. “This is exactly how it’s meant to be and you are doing awesome. We are getting it done, and that’s all that counts.” He told me how strong I was. What a badass I was. All of the things I needed to hear. But I really was slowing us down too much. We were at a 30 minute/mile pace, and it wasn’t enough. I told El that we needed to move. He didn’t take it lightly. He started crushing out an 11 minute/mile pace, and somehow my shin pain resolved enough to allow me to follow suit. “The more I run, the better I feel.” That was the mantra. We destroyed the last couple of miles and pulled into Oberg around 5:00pm.

My right shoe was filled with water from the ice bag. I tore it off, pulled off my shoe, rung out my sock, and swapped it with a dry one before replacing my wet shoe. Falyn scored me a cup of mac and cheese, I scarfed it down. This was it. One more stretch until home base. 7.2 miles to freedom. Time to get this shit done!

The final segment started out runnable, but running the last couple miles of the previous segment destroyed my shin. The best I could do was power hike. I power hiked my heart out. Multiple 100 milers passed us, but I just did my best to stay dialed in. And then we hit Mystery Mountain. Holy fuck how did I forget about this ascent? The stairway to heaven, they call it. But if I’m honest, the climbing was a welcome break for my shin. And I somehow still felt strong, the muscles in my quads and hamstrings firing efficiently. I didn’t even need to stop. Until we came upon a couple of downed trees, which had all three of us staring at it in disbelief as we were sure it was rolling down the hill towards us. It wasn’t. But it totally was. And there was a LOT going on in that little knot on that birch tree. Elliot saw a loon. Jon saw ants. Let’s just move along.

I don’t think this section could have felt any slower. There were several runnable sections, but I just couldn’t run and it was so frustrating. I was nearly in tears from the pain but wouldn’t allow myself to let it consume me. We had to finish by dark. I was not putting my headlamp on again. I was on a mission. It was starting to get dark in the woods, and it made the forest glow with the most beautiful shade of green I have ever seen. It felt magical in there. We latched on to another group, and managed to pass a few of the folks that had passed us earlier. I was so ready to be done. My watch had died at mile 70, so I had no gauge of my pace or time. I asked Elliot to let me know when we hit 3, 2, and 1 miles remaining. I kept asking if we were on pace for an 8:00pm finish (I was leading and didn’t want to be moving too slowly). “It’s downhill to the road,” I heard a pacer in front of me share. Usually I love the downhills, but now they were my nemesis. My ankles screamed with every downhill step. Just keep moving.

It felt like forever, and then the gravel road came. And then it felt like we were on the gravel road forever. And then, we hit the pavement. Hallelujah! We ran a short section, jutted over a tiny grass hill, and hit the road that I thought was going to bring us in to the finish. We spotted the ski hills to our left and joked with Jon that we had to run it, twice. We had a good laugh. But as we continued, the signs suddenly directed us to the left, and we looked up to see orange flags lining a ski hill that was twice as high as the one we were joking about. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I wanted to cry. But that wasn’t going to help anything. I power climbed the hell out of that hill, still feeling a surprising strength in my legs. Fuck you, hill (I’m pretty sure I said that aloud a few times). The climb was the easy part, the descent made me want to cry again. But knowing how close we were, I wasn’t about to let it crush me. And the gorgeous sunset welcoming us to the finish couldn’t have been more perfect. Like it was put there just for us to enjoy at that moment in time.

Somehow, we managed to traverse that entire course without poles, with the exception of my busting out a single pole to help me stumble down the descents of the last few miles. As we approached the final stretch of the course, I handed that pole to Elliot and pulled out my other one in preparation for our finale. I had been thinking about it sporadically throughout the day. The finish dance. My carrot. Jon gracefully stepped aside and let Elliot and I hobble down the finish chute alone. We expressed our final note of gratitude before peeling away. We could hear the cowbells and the announcer in the distance. This is it. When we hit the grassy stretch to the finish line, our girls came out of nowhere and ran beside us. My heart could have exploded right then and there. And then, we placed our poles between our legs and hobby horsed our broken asses across that finish line. It was over. Done. Finito. 102.9 miles by the course. 105.8 miles by the watch. We made it.

The welcome we received at the finish line was overwhelming. A barrage of friends from the TRECs community coming in for hugs, followed by my daughters and my mother in law. And of course, Nate and Falyn, our amazing crew of two. All I wanted was to give Elliot a kiss, but I had to wait for the crowd to settle down. I didn’t mind, though. It felt amazing. We had done it. This was the moment we had worked so hard for. Not just for the previous 35 hours and 45 minutes we spent on the course, but for the past three years we’ve spent building up the fitness and endurance to achieve this milestone. I’m now officially a hundred miler. It's still hard for me to believe.

The Superior 100 miler has changed me in such a profound way. It has woven itself into the fabric of my being. It was a transcendent experience. Spiritual. It left me with a feeling of clarity, connection, and gratitude like no other race. I finished that course thinking, wow, the 100 mile distance is totally for me. I can’t wait to do that again. It’s not what I expected given I was so apprehensive to take it on in the first place. I’m so glad I did. As I write this, it has been 7 weeks since we finished, and my body is still recovering. The deep tendon and tissue soreness still working its way out of both of my ankles. My left ankle still numb. But I love that these sensations provide a regular reminder of those 36 hours in the woods, and I can’t help but smile.