Kettle 100 Race Report: From the sidelines
I've already shared my own introduction to ultrarunning. It was a crash course in something I would come to love even though, admittedly, I thought the whole thing was crazy. And it is. But it's the best crazy.
This weekend found us once again trail bound for the Kettle 100, with my husband, Kevin, ready. The Kettle series, affectionately known as "the Kettles," hosts five races, but we were there for the big dance, the 100 miler. It's run through the Kettle Moraine State Forest with lots of time spent on the Ice Age Trail. One of us (the collective "we" that makes up our very special group of friends who run) has run Kettle for at least the last 5 years, so all of us go every year. It's literally one of the best weekends of the year, though we established that #kettlemas doesn't quite have the ring we had hoped for.
This year, Kevin was chasing. He was chasing fast splits, a big finish, and a personal record. He accomplished almost all of what he set out to do, despite reporting that "[his] quads are trashed" relatively early on in the race. As his crew, we smiled a bit. Kevin has a reputation for being a grumpy aid station stopper. It's not so much that he's grumpy as it is that he complains about how his body feels (who wouldn't?) and then continues to churn out amazing races. This weekend was no different, though it turns out his quads really were trashed! Last year two days after the High Lonesome 100, Kevin and I hiked and ran a bit through the Flatirons of Boulder, CO. This year, he was struggling to get up and down stairs. Don't get me wrong, you and I would be limping for a week, but that's not his normal recovery.
My guy finished in 5th place overall, 3rd in his age group, with a finish time of 18:53:00, 35 minutes faster than last year's 2nd place finish, running an amazing race, and succeeding in establishing a new personal record.
But let's talk about the day itself! The boys were off, breakfast in hand, at 4:30 a.m. on Saturday. Race start is 6:00 a.m., after packet pickup and a quick pre-race meeting. Up to make coffee and breakfast, I went back to bed for a blissful and uninterrupted 3 hours of sleep, which was much needed because my night consisted of 5 hours of VERY interrupted sleep. Being a runner's wife is made harder by being a mom sometimes. :)
Once my kiddos woke, we had pancakes and packed up the car for a day of adventure! We arrived at Scuppernong Trailhead and found our other crew member (the crew would steadily grow throughout the day!). As we waited for our runner, it was fun running into friends we know from the local running community! You quickly get to know the crews with runners pacing around yours. The top group was established early and they stayed that way with few exceptions. You're always glad to see that group (though secretly you wish they weren't there because they're competition after all) because crewing is so much about chasing your runner from aid station to aid station and there's always a hint of worry that you've missed them. (I summed up the waiting after Kevin's 2016 finish at Run Rabbit, recounted at the end of an earlier post here.)
This year, Kevin was FAST. There was really so little waiting. 100 mile races usually have cut offs of between 30 and 60 hours, depending on the race. For us to be there for only 19 hours is FAST. We had to chase to keep up with him. Thankfully this is a race course we know so well (and I had plenty of friends to follow). I think we only turned around twice, which isn't too bad because we've gotten downright LOST more than once on the Western States race course out in Cali.
After Scupp, we chased him down to the Hwy 67 aid station where he stayed for possibly 2 minutes. There's something especially awesome about crewing one of the lead runners. The parking lots are usually pretty navigable. When you get into the later times, or at Kettle where the later aid stations have runners coming in and going out, it can be a hike and undoubtedly, you're carrying a cooler and a chair and, in my case, a backpack full of rocks because my children are little scavengers in the woods. Someone is also always carrying Old Squeaky, a really practical race day bag that Kevin loves and his crew hates because one of the hinges on the strap squeaks and, let's face it, we get tired and cranky too. I love to make the joke that crewing these races is SO hard (a nod to the fact that running 100 miles is, you know, possibly harder).
Next, we made our way to the shuttle for the Emma Carlin aid station, which we were pretty happy to share with a really pretty husky. With pepperoni for snacking, we were on our way. Emma's a great stop because you get to see your runner coming from a ways away. When we saw Kevin emerge from the prairie from across the street, we were ready for him. There's always a flurry when your runner arrives. Bottles are tossed around for refilling, bandannas are restuffed with ice, sometimes there's a shoe or shirt or vest change. Inevitably, someone will be scrutinizing the table of runner snacks (always pickles, M&Ms, PB&Js, boiled potatoes, and chips, sometimes awesome creative options like hash browns, quesadillas or perogies), trying to figure out what their runner might eat, and it probably won't be anything. There's something about running and running and running that, though it absurdly depletes your body of calories, just kills the appetite. Kev offered up some high fives and moved on.
After Emma, it's a roundabout of Bluff Rd, Nordic, and Hwy 12 aid stations. Bluff road is one of my favorites. Not only does it tuck in right next to a giant hill that the kids love hiking up and down (and keeping them busy and therefore not driving me crazy for a while), but the aid station team is one of the best. They've been with the race for 17 years(!) and balance being excellent support for the runners and their crews, but also keeping things light and fun into the late night. (Bluff is an overnight stop for many, many runners.) This year they were peddling sno-cones. I can't tell you how happy my kids were (and probably some runners too)!
Nordic serves as the start AND finish of the Kettle races, so it's always abuzz with activity. The volunteers announce runners coming down the trail by shouting "hundred miler coming in" and "hundred miler going out," which always prompts cheers from the crowd, which makes the whole thing feel like a family affair. And it is. By this point in the race, we know the names of the runners around ours. We've chatted with nearby crews throughout the day and always ask "how's s/he looking?" when we see each other again. Ultrarunning is nothing if not community.
Hwy 12 is a unique aid station. It's literally a parking lot off of Hwy 12 and, like Nordic and Bluff, runners come in and out of Hwy 12, so there's always a lot happening. No aid station has a better variety of food and first aid needs! It's an evening stop for every runner and many get here deep into the night. Hwy 12 is especially fun to me because of it's "night aid" status. When runners are heading in, you can see their headlamps from pretty far away. It's a trick though because it's often hard to tell if they're coming or going, and even if you know they're coming to you, there's no way to know whether it's your runner. It's a universal night time aid station conundrum: "I see a runner! Is he coming or going? Okay, coming! Should he be in yet? Do you see two headlamps or three? Was he wearing a waist lamp?" Waiting is fun.
Though we had incredible race weather this year, just before midnight a storm rolled in. As we waited for Kevin to finish at Nordic, the kids and I tucked in the car for a nap, as did our other crew friends. We agreed to meet at the finish line at 12:30 a.m., rain or no rain. As lightening flashed and thunder rumbled, rain pelted the car. I sat in the back seat, middle, with my legs stretched over the center console, with my little girl's head on my shoulder and my boy's in my lap as they slept. It was one of the best moments of race day. There's so much action and wonder and worry during a race. Kevin is a low maintenance and SUPER solid consistent runner. I really don't have to worry about him other than to help him with what he needs when he stops at aid stations and occasionally give him a pep talk. But crewing with kids is a challenge. I spent the day trying to make sure they ate actual food, not just sno-cones, had things to occupy them so they weren't driving people around us crazy, knowing where they were despite intentionally giving them a wide berth to explore, insuring they didn't get hit by cars in dark parking lots all night, etc. I'm so glad they are big enough to spend the whole day out there with us watching their dad accomplish this amazing feat. I can't begin to know all that they're learning from these experiences. But it makes my job as wife and crew tougher. So that little bit of time while chaos still reigned outside was pure peace inside the car.
We were all a little slow to leave our cars. It think I was finally trail-side by 12:38 a.m. Knowing Kevin was in some pain and had been moving more slowly than he's used to, we weren't really sure when he'd come in, but we were sure we weren't going to miss it. At 12:48 a runner arrived. It was one of the guys Kevin had stuck close to all day and his finish story was one of our favorite of the day. At Bluff Road, with about 7 miles left, he was struggling. So his wife ran him in. This may seem like a shrug of the shoulders kind of thing. Runners have pacers all the time at this point in the race, but he didn't. He was on his own and had been killing it all day. More importantly, his wife wasn't his pacer. I suspect neither of them had intended for her to run with him, solely based on her shoes and attire. She wasn't dressed for it, but it didn't matter. He needed something and she made it happen. 7 miles later, he was the 4th place finisher of the Kettle 100 and our crew was cheering and laughing with them at the way it happened. It's one of those great ultra stories that you seriously hear ALL. THE. TIME. Community. Compassion. Selflessness. Strength. I don't know if his wife was a runner or not, but 7 miles isn't a small thing. As an ultrarunner myself, 7 miles can be challenging. What a woman and what a finish!
We were a little surprised when we heard the announcement a mere 4.5 minutes later that another 100 miler was coming in. I honestly didn't expect Kevin yet. When we last saw him, he wasn't smiling and he was hurting, but he was out running with one of his best friends who knew his job was to get Kevin across the finish line as fast as he could manage. That last 7 miles always comes with the attitude of "just get it done." We don't worry about what he's carrying or whether he eats or how his feet feel. At the end of 93 miles, 7 miles doesn't even feel like it matters anymore (though I know the runners would tell you it's still 7 miles after you've already run 93, which sounds literally impossible to me). It's almost over!
As he crossed the finish, we didn't really even know what place he was in anymore, though they did announce he was 3rd in his age group. We rallied around him and cheered and told stories and laughed while Kevin shivered, wrapped in a blanket. Two of our friends were off to support a 3rd who had entered the 38 mile "fun run," which is part of the series and is intentionally run overnight. (Way to go, Em!) I took another friend back to his car while Kevin warmed up in ours. When I got back, he was starving. Hoping for more of the hash browns we were treated to at Bluff, he settled for chili because, as the aid station volunteer told us, "hash browns are for breakfast" and we got there too early. : ) After chili, we spent 20 minutes in the McDonald's parking lot before heading home with full bellies, sleeping children and very full and happy hearts!
Our friend Luke shared a great story from the trail, during a stretch he was pacing Kevin. They were running along when they realized they were running toward another runner, Will, that we'd met and cheered on last year. Sometime after the last time I saw him in 2017, which was mile 73, he DNFed ("did not finish"), otherwise known as "dropped." We were devastated to learn it as he had run so long with Kevin that day. He had been running SO well, which sadly is a reality of ultras...sometimes you don't finish. Anyway, as Luke and Kevin saw Will, Kevin waved his arms wildly and the two guys ran up and hugged each other on the trail, mid-race, time ticking, miles and miles and miles left to go. Luke said it was the most he'd seen Kevin move on that section. Because that, in a nutshell, is so much of what it's about and who these people are. Will finished his first 100 miler at Kettle this year and we couldn't be more proud!
It can be really, really hard being married to an ultrarunner, especially with young children. He runs every day, sometimes for hours at a time on the weekends. Our vacation plans often revolve around race schedules and locations. Heck, our whole summer revolves around running. And the crewing, carrying his stuff, waiting, staying up all night...it gets long. But it is also so AMAZING. The ultra community is so special, especially locally. It's such a great, unique group of people, all out there for different reasons and with different plans and abilities, but also ALL out there cheering each other on, making friends, and being good stewards of the woods and the world. I'm grateful that he has brought this into our life and I'm grateful for the people we have surrounded ourselves with as a result of it. I'm even grateful for the long hours I log on the trail when I'm training for a race. It's all so good for the soul.
This weekend found us once again trail bound for the Kettle 100, with my husband, Kevin, ready. The Kettle series, affectionately known as "the Kettles," hosts five races, but we were there for the big dance, the 100 miler. It's run through the Kettle Moraine State Forest with lots of time spent on the Ice Age Trail. One of us (the collective "we" that makes up our very special group of friends who run) has run Kettle for at least the last 5 years, so all of us go every year. It's literally one of the best weekends of the year, though we established that #kettlemas doesn't quite have the ring we had hoped for.
This year, Kevin was chasing. He was chasing fast splits, a big finish, and a personal record. He accomplished almost all of what he set out to do, despite reporting that "[his] quads are trashed" relatively early on in the race. As his crew, we smiled a bit. Kevin has a reputation for being a grumpy aid station stopper. It's not so much that he's grumpy as it is that he complains about how his body feels (who wouldn't?) and then continues to churn out amazing races. This weekend was no different, though it turns out his quads really were trashed! Last year two days after the High Lonesome 100, Kevin and I hiked and ran a bit through the Flatirons of Boulder, CO. This year, he was struggling to get up and down stairs. Don't get me wrong, you and I would be limping for a week, but that's not his normal recovery.
My guy finished in 5th place overall, 3rd in his age group, with a finish time of 18:53:00, 35 minutes faster than last year's 2nd place finish, running an amazing race, and succeeding in establishing a new personal record.
But let's talk about the day itself! The boys were off, breakfast in hand, at 4:30 a.m. on Saturday. Race start is 6:00 a.m., after packet pickup and a quick pre-race meeting. Up to make coffee and breakfast, I went back to bed for a blissful and uninterrupted 3 hours of sleep, which was much needed because my night consisted of 5 hours of VERY interrupted sleep. Being a runner's wife is made harder by being a mom sometimes. :)
Once my kiddos woke, we had pancakes and packed up the car for a day of adventure! We arrived at Scuppernong Trailhead and found our other crew member (the crew would steadily grow throughout the day!). As we waited for our runner, it was fun running into friends we know from the local running community! You quickly get to know the crews with runners pacing around yours. The top group was established early and they stayed that way with few exceptions. You're always glad to see that group (though secretly you wish they weren't there because they're competition after all) because crewing is so much about chasing your runner from aid station to aid station and there's always a hint of worry that you've missed them. (I summed up the waiting after Kevin's 2016 finish at Run Rabbit, recounted at the end of an earlier post here.)
This year, Kevin was FAST. There was really so little waiting. 100 mile races usually have cut offs of between 30 and 60 hours, depending on the race. For us to be there for only 19 hours is FAST. We had to chase to keep up with him. Thankfully this is a race course we know so well (and I had plenty of friends to follow). I think we only turned around twice, which isn't too bad because we've gotten downright LOST more than once on the Western States race course out in Cali.
After Scupp, we chased him down to the Hwy 67 aid station where he stayed for possibly 2 minutes. There's something especially awesome about crewing one of the lead runners. The parking lots are usually pretty navigable. When you get into the later times, or at Kettle where the later aid stations have runners coming in and going out, it can be a hike and undoubtedly, you're carrying a cooler and a chair and, in my case, a backpack full of rocks because my children are little scavengers in the woods. Someone is also always carrying Old Squeaky, a really practical race day bag that Kevin loves and his crew hates because one of the hinges on the strap squeaks and, let's face it, we get tired and cranky too. I love to make the joke that crewing these races is SO hard (a nod to the fact that running 100 miles is, you know, possibly harder).
Next, we made our way to the shuttle for the Emma Carlin aid station, which we were pretty happy to share with a really pretty husky. With pepperoni for snacking, we were on our way. Emma's a great stop because you get to see your runner coming from a ways away. When we saw Kevin emerge from the prairie from across the street, we were ready for him. There's always a flurry when your runner arrives. Bottles are tossed around for refilling, bandannas are restuffed with ice, sometimes there's a shoe or shirt or vest change. Inevitably, someone will be scrutinizing the table of runner snacks (always pickles, M&Ms, PB&Js, boiled potatoes, and chips, sometimes awesome creative options like hash browns, quesadillas or perogies), trying to figure out what their runner might eat, and it probably won't be anything. There's something about running and running and running that, though it absurdly depletes your body of calories, just kills the appetite. Kev offered up some high fives and moved on.
After Emma, it's a roundabout of Bluff Rd, Nordic, and Hwy 12 aid stations. Bluff road is one of my favorites. Not only does it tuck in right next to a giant hill that the kids love hiking up and down (and keeping them busy and therefore not driving me crazy for a while), but the aid station team is one of the best. They've been with the race for 17 years(!) and balance being excellent support for the runners and their crews, but also keeping things light and fun into the late night. (Bluff is an overnight stop for many, many runners.) This year they were peddling sno-cones. I can't tell you how happy my kids were (and probably some runners too)!
Nordic serves as the start AND finish of the Kettle races, so it's always abuzz with activity. The volunteers announce runners coming down the trail by shouting "hundred miler coming in" and "hundred miler going out," which always prompts cheers from the crowd, which makes the whole thing feel like a family affair. And it is. By this point in the race, we know the names of the runners around ours. We've chatted with nearby crews throughout the day and always ask "how's s/he looking?" when we see each other again. Ultrarunning is nothing if not community.
Hwy 12 is a unique aid station. It's literally a parking lot off of Hwy 12 and, like Nordic and Bluff, runners come in and out of Hwy 12, so there's always a lot happening. No aid station has a better variety of food and first aid needs! It's an evening stop for every runner and many get here deep into the night. Hwy 12 is especially fun to me because of it's "night aid" status. When runners are heading in, you can see their headlamps from pretty far away. It's a trick though because it's often hard to tell if they're coming or going, and even if you know they're coming to you, there's no way to know whether it's your runner. It's a universal night time aid station conundrum: "I see a runner! Is he coming or going? Okay, coming! Should he be in yet? Do you see two headlamps or three? Was he wearing a waist lamp?" Waiting is fun.
Though we had incredible race weather this year, just before midnight a storm rolled in. As we waited for Kevin to finish at Nordic, the kids and I tucked in the car for a nap, as did our other crew friends. We agreed to meet at the finish line at 12:30 a.m., rain or no rain. As lightening flashed and thunder rumbled, rain pelted the car. I sat in the back seat, middle, with my legs stretched over the center console, with my little girl's head on my shoulder and my boy's in my lap as they slept. It was one of the best moments of race day. There's so much action and wonder and worry during a race. Kevin is a low maintenance and SUPER solid consistent runner. I really don't have to worry about him other than to help him with what he needs when he stops at aid stations and occasionally give him a pep talk. But crewing with kids is a challenge. I spent the day trying to make sure they ate actual food, not just sno-cones, had things to occupy them so they weren't driving people around us crazy, knowing where they were despite intentionally giving them a wide berth to explore, insuring they didn't get hit by cars in dark parking lots all night, etc. I'm so glad they are big enough to spend the whole day out there with us watching their dad accomplish this amazing feat. I can't begin to know all that they're learning from these experiences. But it makes my job as wife and crew tougher. So that little bit of time while chaos still reigned outside was pure peace inside the car.
We were all a little slow to leave our cars. It think I was finally trail-side by 12:38 a.m. Knowing Kevin was in some pain and had been moving more slowly than he's used to, we weren't really sure when he'd come in, but we were sure we weren't going to miss it. At 12:48 a runner arrived. It was one of the guys Kevin had stuck close to all day and his finish story was one of our favorite of the day. At Bluff Road, with about 7 miles left, he was struggling. So his wife ran him in. This may seem like a shrug of the shoulders kind of thing. Runners have pacers all the time at this point in the race, but he didn't. He was on his own and had been killing it all day. More importantly, his wife wasn't his pacer. I suspect neither of them had intended for her to run with him, solely based on her shoes and attire. She wasn't dressed for it, but it didn't matter. He needed something and she made it happen. 7 miles later, he was the 4th place finisher of the Kettle 100 and our crew was cheering and laughing with them at the way it happened. It's one of those great ultra stories that you seriously hear ALL. THE. TIME. Community. Compassion. Selflessness. Strength. I don't know if his wife was a runner or not, but 7 miles isn't a small thing. As an ultrarunner myself, 7 miles can be challenging. What a woman and what a finish!
We were a little surprised when we heard the announcement a mere 4.5 minutes later that another 100 miler was coming in. I honestly didn't expect Kevin yet. When we last saw him, he wasn't smiling and he was hurting, but he was out running with one of his best friends who knew his job was to get Kevin across the finish line as fast as he could manage. That last 7 miles always comes with the attitude of "just get it done." We don't worry about what he's carrying or whether he eats or how his feet feel. At the end of 93 miles, 7 miles doesn't even feel like it matters anymore (though I know the runners would tell you it's still 7 miles after you've already run 93, which sounds literally impossible to me). It's almost over!
As he crossed the finish, we didn't really even know what place he was in anymore, though they did announce he was 3rd in his age group. We rallied around him and cheered and told stories and laughed while Kevin shivered, wrapped in a blanket. Two of our friends were off to support a 3rd who had entered the 38 mile "fun run," which is part of the series and is intentionally run overnight. (Way to go, Em!) I took another friend back to his car while Kevin warmed up in ours. When I got back, he was starving. Hoping for more of the hash browns we were treated to at Bluff, he settled for chili because, as the aid station volunteer told us, "hash browns are for breakfast" and we got there too early. : ) After chili, we spent 20 minutes in the McDonald's parking lot before heading home with full bellies, sleeping children and very full and happy hearts!
Our friend Luke shared a great story from the trail, during a stretch he was pacing Kevin. They were running along when they realized they were running toward another runner, Will, that we'd met and cheered on last year. Sometime after the last time I saw him in 2017, which was mile 73, he DNFed ("did not finish"), otherwise known as "dropped." We were devastated to learn it as he had run so long with Kevin that day. He had been running SO well, which sadly is a reality of ultras...sometimes you don't finish. Anyway, as Luke and Kevin saw Will, Kevin waved his arms wildly and the two guys ran up and hugged each other on the trail, mid-race, time ticking, miles and miles and miles left to go. Luke said it was the most he'd seen Kevin move on that section. Because that, in a nutshell, is so much of what it's about and who these people are. Will finished his first 100 miler at Kettle this year and we couldn't be more proud!
It can be really, really hard being married to an ultrarunner, especially with young children. He runs every day, sometimes for hours at a time on the weekends. Our vacation plans often revolve around race schedules and locations. Heck, our whole summer revolves around running. And the crewing, carrying his stuff, waiting, staying up all night...it gets long. But it is also so AMAZING. The ultra community is so special, especially locally. It's such a great, unique group of people, all out there for different reasons and with different plans and abilities, but also ALL out there cheering each other on, making friends, and being good stewards of the woods and the world. I'm grateful that he has brought this into our life and I'm grateful for the people we have surrounded ourselves with as a result of it. I'm even grateful for the long hours I log on the trail when I'm training for a race. It's all so good for the soul.
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