My 2017 Marji Gesick Experience, from the back of the pack.

My 2017 Marji Gesick, by the numbers:

- 10,2015 ft of climbing

- ~7,000 calories consumed

- 98 miles

- 91 degrees F

- 15+ hours on the bike

- ~ 3 gallons of liquid consumed

- 2 flirtations with heat exhaustion

- 1 vow to return

IN 2016 I began hearing legends of the Marji Gesick: a brutal 100+ mile race connecting all the trail networks of Marquette, Negaunee and Ishpeming Michigan. Sounded like my kind of fun. So: I got a new bike (an Ibis Ripley). I made a plan to loose 30 pounds (which didn’t happen). Several times over the summer I started “training”, but work, illness, injury and more work kept getting in the way. In the end, it really came down to a couple weeks of focused training, bike fine-tuning and ‘resting hard’ the week before the race.

I made a race plan based around the slow and steady approach to “racing”: 16 hours out on the trail. I wouldn’t do any hard pushes on the climbs, I wouldn’t let my heart rate climb. 100 miles in 16 hours seemed pretty conservative, and if I could just “maintain momentum” at a touring pace, I could tortoise my way to the finish line.

But such a simple plan is not enough for a race like this. In many places you had to push hard in order to make any forward momentum at all. And then it got hot: 91 degrees for a high… in late-September, in Michigan’s UP on the shores of Lake Superior.

Travel was provided by Richard’s Sprinter as I tagged along with the “Bowltron Crew” Accommodations were a rather nicer yurt just west of Ishpeming.

I had meticulously planned my food, laid out my gear over the course of the week and thought through everything I would need for a LONG day on the bike very carefully. Yet on the drive to the race start in the morning, I found myself frantically rummaging through my bag, having forgotten my Bag Balm at the yurt and having lost the band that holds my flashlight/battery to my handlebars. They moved the race start back 30 minutes, so no need for the light, and I borrowed some shammy cream. Everything was back on track.

Then we waited for the start.

There was a long, nearly-half-mile long LeMan’s run for the start. Keeping to my race philosophy, I slowly trotted along and resorted to walking when I started to breathe hard. Once I got to my bike, I took my time putting on my helmet, and camelback, and then starting the GPS on my phone. Even though I was being careful to just cruise, along, I still passed dozens of people in the ski-trail section that the race starts with, and a few more on the following downhills, including the All Down Hill. Generally, things were starting to sort out and I was finding the place for my pace in the stream of cyclists. However, I had to contend with the fact that I’m a strong descender and technical rider, but overweight and out-of-shape, and therefore, a very slow climber. So people would pass me on the climbs and/or flats and then I’d have to wait for them when the trails got gnarly and fun.

I rode the first exposed rocky downhill “Top of the World” that everyone else was walking down. It wasn’t really that hard of a section and the Ripley ate it up, even the awkward line I was forced onto to go around a hike-a-bikers. After a few flat sections of old railroad grade and singletrack, I got got stuck behind some rather poorly skilled riders on a moderately technical section with some climbing. I don’t want to be a snob about it, but one woman was coming to a near stop to lift her front wheel over any obstacle more than 6” high. Another guy endo’ed on a flat section of trail for no apparent reason at all. On the one hand, I wanted to “maintain momentum” and I was getting frustrated being forced to walk behind these riders. On the other hand, I didn’t want to push myself too hard… or be too big of a dick passing people on tight trail sections. I chose to push it and get around the group of riders and onto some open section of trail for a nice downhill.

Then it was time to go back up All Down Hill. I “burned a match” here near the top of the trail as I tried to close the gap with a group of riders who had passed me. Didn’t make it. No draft for me on the fire roads.

Back through the ski-trails and then through a power-line clearing with a huge grassy puddle. I didn’t look deep so I decided to ride it. I immediately sank into the water up to my rotors and over the top of my shoes in the mud. I got back to the Forestville Trailhead for my first water stop of the day, and took a little extra time to rinse my socks, wash the caked-on mud out of my shoes and spritz down my drivetrain. Time well spent.

Back on singletrack, it was fun whoops and berms on Ramblin’ Man and Wildcat, then up, up, up towards Pine Knob. I burned a second match here riding some semi-technical climbs that I and my bike could do, so I really wanted to! But I should have walked them. Bombed all the climbs on this rough, exposed, technical trail, then across the tracks and onto more singletrack on the North Trails system.

When endurance racing, its always a struggle to eat and drink enough. The North Trails were technical enough that it was hard to eat, and even when I slowed down as the trails pitched up, I was working too hard to grab a snack. After a short pavement section we hit Lowes Trail which is seemingly lightly used, rough and steep. I burned another match here just trying to keep moving forward, and by the time I had emerged from the woods behind Lowes, I was feeling pretty beat.

Through the box culvert under US 40 and then shortly I took some water from some kind folks at an unofficial aid station (I was essentially out of water already!), and basically just coasted down the Heritage Trail section, stretching, eating, drinking and resting. This really helped me recover.

The heat was starting to get to me. Luckily there was an aid station with ice water on a road section (Grove St.). With this additional water and food I was stuffing in, I started to feel better. Plus the South Trails are super fun, and by the time I hit the checkpoint at the Trailhead, I was feeling pretty good. I took a few minutes to eat and drink a bit extra and I was back on my bike.

The next section, riding the east side of the South Trails was the hardest part of the race for me. The day’s heat was at its peak and the climbing was unreal. I was fortunate to get on the wheel of a local: Glen. By strange coincidence, he was the same guy who had guided me around the trails of Negaunee a couple months earlier. He was a great wheel to follow on the technical descents on the east side of the South trails, a skilled rider who knew the trails well. After the first descent, we both walked up the fire road, then we bombed down Scary. After the misery of the hike-a-bike on the road, this was probably the most fun part of the day for me, an amazing trail. Real highs and lows here, literally and mentally.

But before long we parted ways, honestly, I’m not sure if I pulled ahead of him or he pulled ahead of me, but I’m sure it was the latter. The Climb up the Carp River Trail to the top of Marquette Mountain was grueling and brutal. Even though I was walking, I felt like I burned a couple more matches here too. Looking back, I am sure I was starting to stumble into heat exhaustion at this point.

After descending on Ezy-Rider, I evaluated my water situation and realized I was basically out.  I had depleted a water bottle and 2/3rds of my 3L hydration pack in the past 10 miles/2 hours! With only about a liter of water left, and 20 miles until the next checkpoint, I decided to go off-course a bit, back to the Traihead checkpoint to fill up my water.

The lead volunteer there insisted I take a bag of ice on my neck to help cool down. It seemed an odd way to use ice, but I wasn’t about to protest. I re-entered the trail system right where I had left (Down Dogger), and despite the ice and fresh water, I really started to bumble. I totally boofed maneuvering around a boulder on the trail (Easy Street), nearly falling down the slope below, and got pretty mad at myself. This is when I realized something was wrong. Was I bonking? Dehydrated? Low on electrolytes? Eventually I figured out I was over-heated. Heat Exhaustion. I spent a few foggy-brained moments trying to figure out what to do about it, and then remembered I had ice on my neck. I got off my bike, sat down, and started eating the ice. After about 5 minutes I felt a lot better. After 15 or so, I consumed all the ice and got back on the bike and started moving forward again.

The remainder of the South Trails, which had been so fun the last time I rode there, were grueling. I had a dizzy spell at the bottom of a fast downhill. Many patches of mud from the rain the previous day were frustrating to manage. I felt pretty crummy the whole time as the route transitions from single track, to double track to paved road. Once on Lake Enchantment Road, I missed the left turn the course took onto some ATV trails. Fortunately I was with another rider at this point who had a GPS unit with an off-course alert. After a few miles of ATV trails with big puddles to maneuver around, I came to the Weurst-Aid Station. I didn’t feel like eating much, but the cold drinks were rejuvenating.

A few miles down the trail I was starting to think I was hallucinating. I thought I saw a guy on a blue bike behind me. But when I expected him to pass me on a climb, I looked back with no one to be found. A minute later I again caught sight of a rider out of the corner of my eye, but then he disappeared. Hallucination hardly seemed likely, but I was in just bad enough shape that it made me worry that perhaps I was.

As it turns out this phantom rider was a real person named Ben from Minneapolis. We rode together for a few miles and chatted. I don’t know if it was our slower pace, the slight decline in temperature in the early-evening or my body taking-in the food and water I had recently consumed, but I was really starting to feel a lot better as I rode with Ben.

By the time we hit the checkpoint/aid station in Negaunee, I was feeling like a million bucks. This supposed 65-mile mark was more like 77 miles in. Josh was there, having taken a knee at the 44-mile mark due to the grueling heat, and he helped get my bag and get my stuff together to head out back on the trails. He reported that all of our Madison crew were much slower than anticipated, but so far he was the only one who had dropped out. Ryan, who was doing the 50-mile race, hadn’t arrived yet.

Lights on my bars and head, food in my bags and belly, and a swap to a fresh, 70oz hydration pack (for a total of 98oz of water with me), I headed out at a little after 7pm for “just” 13 miles of riding until looping back to the checkpoint. I traded places with a couple other riders back and forth, including a couple woman who were clearly locals based on the way they handled the trails (always follow the locals!). I held off turning on my lights as long as I could, just in case I would need the battery life. I was having a little trouble with my cheap, Chinese headlamp, it kept cutting out and lighting up again due to a bad wire connection. I stopped to secure it with duct tape as best I could.

I had run out of electrolyte tablets, so I asked one of the local lady riders where I could get something salty to eat. She pointed to a gas station just a few hundred feet off-course just ahead of us. I took a decent 20 minute break at that gas station to chug a Gatorade, eat some Combos (salty, but disgusting), and with my upper-back in pain, I raised my bars about 1/2” by fiddling with my excessive headset spacers.

Back on the trail, the route passes very near the finish line in Ishpeming, which was a little demoralizing, but I was still determined to keep going. The route went up to the top of every knob they could route it up. I felt pretty good, energy and spirits were up, but my legs were dead. I was walking up a lot of hills. And there were a lot of hills. I caught up with Ben and a friend of his, they were having light troubles worse than mine: Ben’s friend ended up with just a tail-light strapped to his fork for lighting and I got ahead of them as they rolled onward only as fast as they could see with their depleted lights.

Up until about 15 minutes before looping back to the checkpoint I was sure I would keep going. That all changed very quickly, starting when I ran out of water. I had covered only 13 miles, and had drunken all 98 oz of water that I had with me, plus 24 oz of Gatorade. I must have been just on the edge of bonking, because with no water I stopped eating too, and my energy levels plummeted. I stumbled into the aid station with 98 miles (real miles, not GPS miles) on my cyclocomputer. I struggled to eat a donut, and drink water. I really struggled to eat.

I checked the time: it was a little after 11pm. I had been racing for 15.5 hours. It had taken me 3 hours just to cover the previous 13 miles. There were roughly 16 miles to go, and these were reported to be some of the hardest of the race course. I felt like I could recover and do it, but, my best case scenario was that I finish after 3am.

Once I had come to this realization, my decision got easier. I didn’t really want to ride until 3am, but I was willing to. What I was not willing to do, was to keep my travel companions awake until well after 3am, after all of them had ridden a big day on the bike as well.

I called it. A volunteer graciously phoned-in my #Quitter notification to the race officials. I texted Richard for a ride, and he came to pick me up. He had ridden as far as I had, but he had done so about 4 hours faster, having to drop out due to digestive issues (IIRC). We gave a disoriented racer a ride back to his motel, and proceeded to the finish line to wait for Nick and Patrick who were still out on the course. They both finished up around 1am. It was quite an achievement for Nick on his 40th birthday, well, it was his 40th birthday the day he started the race anyway.

I feel like it should really bug me that I didn’t finish. But it doesn’t. I put it all out there and rode for a lot longer than I really believed I could. I put out a lot more effort than I expected I would need to. I suffered through heat exhaustion. I had, in ways, achieved more than I thought possible as far as time on the bike and pushing on through adversity were concerned. Basically, I felt accomplished just getting as far as I did. I didn’t exactly succeed, but I sure didn’t feel like I failed.

It did bug me enough however, that I signed up for the 2018 Marji Gesick just minutes after registration opened. I have unfinished business.