Wausau, Wisconsin, September 2018
I’ve signed up four times now for Ragnar trail runs, and completed three events (the 2015 Cascades run was cancelled due to wildfires). Having flown to Texas (Hill Country, 2014), driven to Richmond (2016), and now flown to Wisconsin (Northwoods, 2018), I feel like enough of an expert to offer my two cents for free to those interested in reading about it. So for both of you, here is my race report.
It’s not really a race, even though it is a competition. We’re not all running at the same time. Teams are staggered throughout the day, based on some crazy formula that theoretically balances out the fast, slow, and middlers to try to have everyone overlapping as much as possible, like a crazy Dipsea or something. Yes, one team will eventually complete its 120 miles (+/-) faster than all others, but they are not really running head to head against a field of equals. Sure, this is nitpicky; you could argue that golf is a staggered event as well, but the players are still competing in the same tournament even if not on the same hole at the same time. But I still feel like it’s different than seeing exactly how far ahead or behind you really are like you’d be in a linear race with identical starts.
At the same time, in these relays, the goal is to kill or be killed (for those of us with competitive drives, and we may be the minority in these fun-run events). Everyone you pass is a kill. Everyone who passes you is a kill you’ve taken. Though it’s not necessarily a one for one equation. When Keith finished a middle of the night effort, excited to have counted sixty-five people passed against three deaths, I had to explain that each time he was passed, it counted against twenty-two the other way. (Don’t ask me to justify the math; just trust me that he shouldn’t have let those three people pass him).
Seeing as it’s not a direct race, and because I’m only one part of an eight (or seven) person team, I find it incomplete to pretend to report on a full event. I can only offer a fractional reporting of the proceedings. But in a Bencentric world, maybe that’s enough.
Here’s how it works. Regular teams of eight runners take turns running three different legs until each person has completed every loop. For Northwoods, this meant a loop of 3 miles (Green), 4.6 miles (Yellow), and 7.6 miles (Red), with increasing hills and technical terrain to correspond to the distances. (7.6 was the hilliest, with the most sections of roots and rocks to try to trip you up). By the end, your team has covered 121.6 miles, with each member having run 15.2, split into three separate efforts. In between each run, you have to balance the needs of eating, sleeping, drinking, and hanging out, while doing math to figure out when it’s your turn again. There are also ultra teams of four runners, doubling the efforts of each person (they run two consecutive loops before handing off to the next person, such that #1 runs 3 + 4.6, #2 runs 7.6 + 3, #3 runs 4.6 + 7.6, etc.). These people are much tougher than us.
The race is held at a giant state park where people pitch campsites. This was probably the best attribute of Northwoods – the park was huge, and the campsites were spread out such that it felt more like real camping than cramped tents in an open field. Road Ragnars squeeze twelve smelly runners into two sets of smelly vans, chasing each other down the highway. The open air and dirt trails are much fresher. There is a central hub (village) where the teams check in, watch a cheesy safety video, buy running gear or beer (camping without drinking would be like… boring), food trucks, race sponsor tents, campfires, and the transition tent where sexchanges are made from runner to runner.
Team Alternative Fasts (aren’t we clever?) consisted of Captain Keith, his studly big brother Ben #1, a less studly Ben #2 (no relation), Keith’s roommates Francis and Bill (lil taters), young Rahul (team baby at 23 years young, known as Rollo), and Jenny, the green-haired chick to prevent a total sausage fest. Quite the mix of age and rage, punk and funk, skills and kills. For those keeping count, that’s only seven bodies for our eight-person team. For any of you reading this, chances are you were asked to participate, but, like everyone else we can think of, you bailed on us. Bastard. Sure, Keith is a kwestionable kaptain (and a racist). And yes, Wisconsin is far away. But did I mention that they had Spotted Cow on tap at the event? [Spotted Cow is a famous Wisconsin beer that you can only buy in Wisconsin. I’d heard Wisconsinites brag about it for years, so I was super excited to finally get to try it. I like beer. (Don’t call me Kavanaugh). I’ll keep you in suspense about my take on SC until later in the report…] So seven people to fill eight roles in a relay of twenty four legs… Ben #2 (the less studly sharer of the author’s forename, hereafter to be known as TOB (The Other Ben)) devised a killer spreadsheet that tried to anticipate each person’s position based on the estimated pace of the other runners. He used this spreadsheet to run different scenarios to figure out ways to spread the extra fifteen miles. Much back and forth was had by those of us tapped to run extra, who were Keith, he, and me. Okay, most of the back and forth was me complaining about Keith’s plan to stack two of my runs together, because, admittedly, I like to complain. Ultimately, it was agreed that TOB would pick up an extra loop of 3 miles, Keith would do the extra 4.6, and I’d run the bonus 7.6, each of us filling in for our slacker ghost runner. Somehow my request for space between efforts was balanced with Keith’s suggestion to run back to back (like some kind of ultra-runner freak), such that after my second loop (an easy 3), I’d hand off to Francis (for his 4.6 mile loop), who would then pass the baton (actually a bib that clips around your waist) back to me to run the ghost’s 7.6 mile loop. Assuming Francis would average 10 minute trail miles, I’d have over forty-five minutes to recover before hitting the trail again for the hard loop.
Keith led off, taking off at 3:30 p.m. on Friday. The first wave of teams started some seven hours earlier, and the fastest teams would follow in waves every half hour through 5 p.m. There were a total of 330 standard teams, plus 15 crazy ultra groups. His 3 mile Red loop took just over 32 minutes, handing off to TOB for a Yellow 4.6, to Jenny’s Red to Bill’s Green to my Yellow to Francis’ Red to Ghost (TOB’s) Green to Roll-o’s Yellow before cycling back to Keith for Round 2. TOB’s spreadsheet basically went out the window by the middle of the first loop because everyone was slower than their projected pace. After an hour forty minutes, we pondered sending out a search party for Jenny, but she rolled in some fifteen minutes later, having enjoyed the experience but also feeling like she survived a harrowing trail. By this point, we’d burned up the afternoon daylight, meaning my first run would require a headlamp. It would also be my only run before midnight, which meant that I had to do a short (~0.75 mile) warmup, to keep my (short) streak of five miles a day alive for another day.
My Yellow loop started around 7:15 p.m., and I ran out relaxed over the gently rolling hills through single-track (North)woods. I was perhaps too relaxed, because when I caught a quick glimpse of the small 1 mile sign, I panicked, and picked up the pace. 1 mile to go, already? I felt like I had just started. Five minutes later, I wondered why I hadn’t yet joined up with the other trails (they all linked up for the first quarter mile out before diverging, later converging with about a half mile to go to lead you back into the village / transition tent). Another couple of minutes elapsed, and I looked at my watch to realize that unlike in other Ragnar trail events, where there were no markers except 1 mile to go, this well-organized running had markers at each mile. And my mile to go assumption was off by around 3.6 miles (I thought it seemed too quick). Fortunately, I’m not much of a kicker in my old age (did I mention that I was the oldest of our group?), so prematurely kicking that early in the loop did not have me dying at the halfway mark. I just felt like an idiot, which is normal for me. I hung on, trying again to pick up the pace when I really was closer to the finish, and passed more people. At the end of my 40 minute run, I’d racked up ___ kills (no idea how many I passed, but it felt like a lot), and no one passed me. The Yellow loop was pretty easy. There were no major climbs. The few roots / rocky sections were all manageable with some quick steps. It was a nice single track. All things considered, it was a good first effort, and I’d have at least six hours to recover before the next leg. Unlike TOB’s crazy spreadsheet, I calculated that my teammates had to run 38 miles before I was up again; averaging them at 10 minute miles, I’d be ready for forest foray number two around 2:15 a.m.
During the break, I carbo-loaded at the village pasta dinner, chatted up the team for intel on the other courses, and took a short nap. We had five tents for seven people, so it worked out that there was usually an available tent to sleep in while others were either out running, waiting for their turn to run, or maybe dead in the woods somewhere. Whatever, you have to find sleep where you can. I was the group freeloader, since I was the only person who flew to the race; no coolers, tents, chairs, etc. in my carry-on luggage. The closest contribution was the bottle opener that TSA confiscated before I could attempt to hijack a plane with a corkscrew. (TSA also questioned the massage ball in my bag, but they eventually allowed me to keep it). Francis excitedly relayed that his relay leg was the best run of his life, cruising through the Red loop in 88 minutes. Unlike Jenny’s terrifying description of the treacherous terrain, Francis found joy in jumping from rock to rock in his silly toe shoes. To each his own.
Keith similarly shared a great appreciation for his Red run, enjoying it more than his Green, even if three people passed him. He nailed his long loop in 73+ minutes! At around 2:30 a.m. (my earlier math proved too aggressive), I left the comfort of the tent to head down to the village, to be ready for my next run. It was much cooler by this time, with the Friday day temps of low-60s dipping down to mid-30s during the night. I upped the gear from shorts and tee shirt to shorts, tee shirt and arm sleeves for the next one. On top of the thin running getup, I wore a hat and heavy sweatshirt for the waiting, as Bill (lil taters) made his way around his long run. 345 teams adds up to almost 2700 runners, with at least one or two people from each team somewhere around the village to keep up with their predecessor’s progress, gauging time to their next turn. Ragnar had two big bonfires and several heat lamps for us to stand around / under, along with a big screen showing the new Jumanji during the middle of the night (they also had a band play earlier). There are television monitors set up outside the transition tent that tell you when your teammate has crossed the timing mat a quarter mile out. That’s your cue to enter the tent and be ready to receive the bib baton. Francis was there with me before I started. I told him to expect me around 28 minutes later (based on seeing what kinds of times others were turning in).
Lil taters came in a little after 3:20 a.m. to send me off on my three-mile jaunt. The Green loop is way too windy! And I am way too whiney. Deal with it. The course had a bunch of sharp turns, 180 switchbacks, back and forth, and my weak headlamp was hardly up for the challenge. Some people run with their high-beams on; I run dimmer (literally, not metaphorically). What this meant was that I was often overrunning my light, finding myself off the edge of the trail, having to jump back to the path. My usual fluid motion was disjointed, but at least there were no precipices. No harm done, but I did not enjoy the shorter run (just over 27 minutes). Let me just hand off to Francis for a short respite, warm my bones beside the fire, before getting back after it for my first Red.
In the words of Deadpool, “Where’s Francis?!!?!” My loop complete, I searched the transition tent, but the teammate was MIA. Outside the tent, I bellowed “FRANCIS!!” multiple times, but no one stepped up for the toe-shoed slacker. I ran around the village, without tracking him down, raced back to our tents, woke up everyone in our camp and the adjacent lots, with no one knowing where he went. I returned to the village, trying to figure out the next step. I guess I could run Francis’ 4.6 mile Yellow loop, but then would he be around to run my Red? Or should I run the Yellow and expect him to still be drowned in an overflown portapot, forcing me to run a third straight leg? Before I had to do any more mental exercises, I found him outside the transition tent, pleading his case that the monitors never showed my approach, some fifteen minutes earlier. Illiteracy is more believable to me, but whatever, at least I didn’t have to run again. At least I didn’t have to commandeer a Zamboni and start mowing people down to find him (though Zambonis are plentiful in Wisconsin). An hour later, I had to run again.
A vengeful person might have abandoned Francis to finish his loop and find no one there to take the baton. The thought might have crossed my mind. But honestly, after alternately freezing my ass off (away from the fire) with cooking my nuts (too close to the fire), I was relieved just to get back out for another run. Shorts, tee shirt, arm sleeves and gloves for Loop #3. Ten minutes after five a.m., I was back on the course for a 7.6 mile Red loop. Though it shared the same first half mile before going its own way (generally up), I hit the 1 mile marker (not to be confused with the 1 mile to go marker, unless you’re an idiot) at 7:47, which was considerably faster than my first mile on the Green and Yellow loops. Two miles was similarly fast, and though this course had real hills on it, the sections on fire road more than made up for it. There were nice long straightaways where you could open up your stride (as opposed to the hairpin turns of the Green loop). I was at least two minutes faster through these first three miles, and generally felt great throughout the loop. Who needs rest? The few rocky sections required some carefully placed stepping, but they were a chance to catch your breath before taking off on the next smooth part of the path. My goal was to beat Keith’s 1:13, and I came in at 1:03:47, happy to have a waiting teammate to take the baton. Rollo was much more literate than Franny.
Eleven hours after my first start, I’d finished all three loops. It was good to be done. Oh wait, I still had to run an extra Red loop. Back to the tent for some light napping, and I could regroup in daylight to run for once without a headlamp.
Sunrise brought with it some glorious warmth. I don’t know if you know this, but Wisconsin is cold. If you decide to visit for some godforsaken reason, try to avoid the nights. By 9 a.m., TOB finished his last Red loop, becoming the first member of our team to end his day. By 9:15, he was passed out drunk, or so I assume. He might have just been sleeping. Jenny followed by finishing her easy Green, giving to Taters to run his Yellow, before I had the joy of rehashing my Red run, this time in light of day.
At just past 10:30, I was back to shorts and tee for the cool-down 7.6, deciding that I’d pushed myself enough in the previous efforts and could just cruise through it (as long as I was under Keith’s 73 minutes). When I hit the 1-mile mark in 7:37 (10 seconds faster than I’d run 5+ hours earlier), I realized that I couldn’t just sandbag it. After all, we were still racing. Note that of the ~2700 runners in this event, I’d estimate that ~2500 were not competitive racers. It really is a hang-out, fun run kind of experience. There are also a lot of women. So when I proudly say that not a single person passed me during my 22.8 miles of racing, that’s mainly because the people I was racing past did not necessarily consider it a life or death (kill or be killed) Ragnarok. Whatever, I still had to represent, for all of the old guys out there with me (most of those lazy runners were sub-40; at least the six other Alternative Fasts were).
I kicked it in hard in the last mile, determined to beat my time for the first 7.6 loop. I followed up my 1:03:47 with a 1:03:57. Oh well, close enough. Consistency counts for something, I suppose. The beer chaser tasted fantastic. The brick oven pizza was not bad either.
Francis ran his last Green, handing to Keith to run the Ghost’s last Yellow, before Rollo took us home with a final Red. We vowed to meet him out on the course to hand him a beer and run it in as a team, like all good teams do. However, as evidenced by the fact that we couldn’t even find an eighth person willing to run with us, clearly we were not a good team. We got down to the finish area a few minutes before we expected Rollo to roll in, and were shocked to see our team name already on the monitors. We turned around, and there he was, dripping in sweat, after having crushed his last loop in under 62 minutes! My untouchable Red times were smoked by two minutes, and Rollo, who I’d only just met the day before, became my enemy for life. He rubbed it in by telling me that he was picturing me out on the course as motivation to pick up his pace. These damn kids, with their fast running.
We covered our 121.6 miles in 22:35:06, good enough for 40th Place. Note that had we not lost 10-15 minutes during the Francis Fiasco in the middle of the night, we could have picked off a few more teams… For my part, 22.8 miles in 3:15:12, for an 8:34 / mile average. (Rollo averaged 8:37 / mile for his measly 15.2 miles). Our team averaged 11:09 / mile overall.
Synopsis – Ragnar Northwoods had a fantastic setup. The campsites were spaced well, the village was centrally located, and the portapots generally stayed usable. The trails were nice, but the Red was by far the most fun. More importantly, Spotted Cow is a good beer. I’m sorry, cheeseheads, but it’s not an amazing beer. It’s like a glorified Heineken, the fresh kind you get in Amsterdam (not the skunked kind you find in bottles here). It’s a smooth cream ale, easy on the palate, but nothing to justify flying all the way to Wisconsin for. I’d argue that it’s more best than Milwaukee’s Best, but I don’t think that’s really much of a compliment.
Since I was only responsible for 18.8% of the running miles in the race, I’ll welcome feedback from the 56.2% handled by Keith, Taters, Jenny and TOB. Francis & Rollo – Screw you guys!
Post Script – When I committed to running the Richmond Ragnar with Keith, I had to miss my company’s 50th Anniversary Celebration. A black tie affair with free booze, passed up to share a smelly tent with my brother and a bunch of other smelly runners. When I agreed to run the Northwoods Ragnar with Keith, I had to miss my chance to defend my title at the Teddy Bear 5k, as well as my opportunity to avenge my loss from the previous year. Allow me to explain (or you could just read the race report); in 2017, I raced the local 5k that is literally footsteps from my front door. I led from start to finish, feeling like a real winner, only to be embarrassed at the awards ceremony when they recognized a stroller-pushing dad as faster than me based on his chip time. F&#* him, I won outright! Anyway, the 2018 race was on Sunday morning, when I was out forcing Keith to plod through a really slow five miles before catching my flight back home. No repeat glory / sad story for me at the Teddy Bear 5k this year. In my stead, I encouraged local old man Dave to show up the stroller pushers, keeping the title in our demographic (old white dudes originally from Philly, living in Falls Church VA). Dave is the friend that finished fourth in the highly competitive Connect Our Kids 10k a month before, so I thought he was ready to take this title. He owes me a formal race report to justify his repeat Prefontaine position of fourth, having let not one but TWO stroller pushers beat him outright… (I can’t prove it, but I suspect that one of the stroller pushers was Rollo in disguise, just out of spite).
Traipse Reports - Trips and Races 