Running The Hardest Single-Day Mountain Bike Race In America
Running The Hardest Single-Day Mountain Bike Race In America
“The hardest single-day mountain bike race in America.” - Jeremiah Bishop. I am not a mountain biker and I had no idea who Jeremiah Bishop was, but I figure if they are quoting him on the front page of their website, his opinion must be important in the mountain biking community. So, it must be hard, right?
There are a few things that make Marji a little different and unique. First things first, you must commit to this race a year prior because most of the distances sell out in under 60 seconds. Cue the stress: 365 days before! This race is a bit unique compared to the “normal” ultras. The Marji has a self-supported ethos. I would have assumed this aspect would push people away from this event. Obviously, it does not. Though, I am not sure why I would think that as the self-supported ethos is part of the race that intrigued me about it. You can have crew members anywhere along the course and drop bags in one location (which you hit twice), but there are no organized aid stations per the race. The course map is released only a couple days before the race. So you can only prepare based off of last year's course, as you don’t know the course you’ll be taking until the week of. Thankfully, the course is marked, but you are required to have GPS as well. The last weird thing that happens in the Marji is that you are required to pick up tokens at the checkpoints. There are multiple checkpoints at unknown locations along the course and you have to take what is in the container. IF you cross the finish line without the tokens, your finish doesn’t count and you are disqualified.
The journey continues to be my main focus throughout training for these events. Ultimately, I am training to be an athlete for life. Throwing these events in the mix allows me to be a part of the community I love so much. I would be putting complete bull-shit out into the universe if I said that my journey to this race was smooth and exactly what I was looking for. The kind of awe-inspiring journey that makes you continue to want to be an athlete forever. In fact, it was the complete opposite. It was a journey that held fear, frustration, sadness, and pure exhaustion. To keep a long story short, lingering health issues kept my runs short and close to home, my strength sessions close to non-existent, and my energy for continuing to push through on this journey very, very low. But, in the back of mind, I was still going to be crossing that finish line on September 21st.
I arrived in Marquette, a place I spent a few amazing years of my life, filled with joy. Though I still didn’t feel like myself and as healthy as I would like, I felt very lucky to be heading towards the start line I had been planning for a year. This was a family affair, with my uncle riding the 50, my aunt riding the mini, and the rest of ‘em volunteering their time to provide support throughout the race. How lucky was I? We spent the days before the race enjoying our company and doing the touristy things Marquette has to offer. Two days before the race, my muscles all of a sudden were seemingly not working. Walking anywhere fatigued me, they constantly felt out of touch with what I was trying to do. To say this was a confident buster, was an understatement. I shed my fair share of tears. Already terrified, feeling like I was taking on a huge undertaking, severely underprepared; I now sat on the porch of the airbnb seriously doubting my ability to do this.
It’s 4:30am and the alarm rings. I wake up, get dressed, drink my Skratch Labs high carb bottles and coffee, and eat my Van's gluten free waffles. My infamous pre-race breakfast.
Wishing my aunt and uncle good luck, we head out the door to head to the start line. We had a nice 20ish mile chunk until the first time I would see my crew. It started following the paved path along Lake Superior as the sun was rising. It was a beautiful way to start the day and another reminder of how lucky I am. After a couple miles, popping on the gravel road heading up Mt. Marquette and heading down onto the single track leading us to Jackson Park. This first third of the course was the “easiest” part. The least technical, no bikers yet, and where we could continuously move. I ate lots of my new found addiction, Precision Fuel Chews. SO GOOD! I can only speak for the mint and lemon flavor. Following the descent of Mt. Marquette and quite a few miles through tunnels of trees we hit another path connecting Marquette and Negaunee. After a few hours and a lot of chews later, I came running into Jackson Park to find my crew for the first time.
This second section of the race (I mentally split the race into thirds) required a lot of patience. It was spent leapfrogging with the mountain bikers doing the same race. I felt like I could hardly ever continue moving because of this. It was frustrating at times, but I just had to remind myself why I was there and it was not to get frustrated. I am sure it was frustrating for the bikers as we were walking together, I just didn’t have to carry a bike. Alongside the leapfrogging, this section of the race was very technical (hence the leapfrogging). There were constant roots and rocks jumping out trying to grab your ankles. This isn’t something I haven’t experienced before, but pairing it with the bikers made it a unique experience.
As mentioned before, this race has a self-supported ethos, but it was mentioned in the months before the race that there would be many trail angels along the trail. Oh boy were there! I couldn’t believe the amount of people spending hours along the trail with food, water, ice and other things. Some there for other entrants in the race, and some out there just because they wanted to be. The community really shows up for this race. I definitely took plenty of ice and water from these swell souls and I still am so thankful they were out there. A bit longer and later than expected and after even more Precision Fuel Chews, I entered Jackson Park the 2nd time.
This third section of the race I knew would be difficult. I didn’t come remotely close to running this far in training and it was taking longer than planned, meaning a lot of time in the dark. I planned for some time in the dark, but not as long as I was about to endure. A new challenge! After leaving Jackson Park, I entered more tunnels of trees. This made 7 o’clock seem like midnight. At times, it was disorienting and nerve racking when there were no other lights around, a bit confused about where I was. Between the dark, being out there alone, and the severe pain that was starting in my knee and hip, I spent a lot of this section walking. Occasionally a biker or two would pass but then they would be gone. I began to really hope for a runner to pop up from behind me for a good mental and physical push, but this didn’t happen until about 3-4 miles to the finish. I did eventually come up behind a runner and we did some good power walking to get to the finish. Finally, popping out the woods and taking a right hand turn onto pavement. I couldn’t believe it. The finish line was literally right around the corner. Finally, the adrenaline kicked in, and all the pain seemed to float away and I sprinted into the finish chute, kneeling on the ground, and immediately apologized for making everyone stay up so late. I looked up to find John, Uncle Sid, Aunt Jamie, Christian, Mom, and John standing above me to welcome me in at the oh so late 2am. Again, very grateful. Then, the most nerve racking part of all, handing over all the tokens I had, hoping it was enough. It was! I was an official finisher of the Marji Gesick.
Anybody reading this, probably isn’t surprised that finishing this event inspired thoughts of doing more and not thoughts of sitting on the couch. That’s what it did. For some unknown reason, I am signed up for the Duathlon next year. 60ish miles of mountain biking and 40ish miles of running. This will be my first 100ish mile event and I can’t wait to cover the distance. Another family affair and I can’t wait to see what we all inspire each other to accomplish. I encourage you to go do something you aren’t 100% sure you can do.
