Nightfall - 2011 Frozen Otter
Wisconsin’s Ice Age Trail is among the most rugged terrain in the Great Lakes basin. Throw in January temps, uneven snow pack, brutal mileage and middle of the night hallucinations and you have yourself the Frozen Otter Ultra Trek. The Frozen Otter, one of the toughest races in the Midwest, comes in two distinct flavors: a harsh yet bittersweet 32 mile/12 hour race and a full bodied, lactic infused 64 mile/24 hour race. Either distance hurts, both are addictive!
This year the temperature read -4 degrees while the race director covered the rules: hot water is provided every eight miles, each racer is responsible for carrying the required gear including food, racers must make it back to Butler Lake on their own to be ranked and, most importantly, race smart. The race, which starts and finishes at Butler Lake, is an out and back 16 miles going north followed by an out and back 16 miles heading south. This provides the 64-mile racers with the opportunity to refuel and change before embarking on the second 32 mile portion of the trail. For some, the opportunity to stop, eat and warm-up is more of a curse than a blessing.
This year, I embraced the minimalist approach and started the race with an ultra light hydration pack, running tights, a merino base layer under a thermal stretch hybrid jacket, lightweight gloves, trail runners and trekking poles. I compressed a First Ascent Micro Therm Down Shirt, packed the required phone and headlamp in a pair of Smartwools and stored a peanut butter and honey sandwich, Shot Bloks, two gels and a Twix bar close to the body to avoid freezing.
At 10:15 a.m., I stepped up to the start line, wiggled my toes to make sure the warmers were active and briefly considered my strategy: slow run the flats, walk the inclines and take advantage of the declines. As usual, the race was congested to start, but soon separated when overheating racers stopped to de-layer. I settled into a solid pace with Eric, an adventure racing buddy, which made the mileage much more tolerable.
The first 24 miles felt deceivingly fresh, but as the sun set my legs started to tighten, my wet feet felt like bricks and I started wishing my ego had not prevailed and I only registered for the 32-mile distance. The final mile hurt, but the torches emerged and we came into base camp having covered 32 miles in 10.5 hours. [Sounds slow, but is considered fast.
Keeping in stride with my strategy, I grabbed some salty food and a burger, changed into my heavier layering and stretched. Within 30 minutes Eric and I started back up the hill into the night. The charge of the food wore off rather quickly and within about two miles, Eric was wheezing. Knowing Eric’s capacity for pain and level of endurance, I was worried by his shortness of breath. He described it as “trying to breath through a straw.” We pressed on for a few minutes until Eric decided he had to get back to Butler Lake. We walked about a mile and half together before he assured me he would be able to manage the final half mile. Feeling that he was capable of making it back, I turned around and hightailed it into the darkness, alone.
I made up the lost ground rather quickly, but my legs soon gave way to the endless hills that greet racers on the south side trail. I convinced myself that I was almost to the Mile 40 checkpoint when my headlamp caught the illumination of the half-way marker. I stopped and yelled – expletive, expletive, expletive – the tipping point had arrived. The next four miles sucked. I was slow, tired and felt depleted. My ankles, hips and knees were shot.
I walked into Mile 40, sipped some cider and imagined how nice it would be to crawl into the van and call it a night. Then, of course, ego took over and I told myself that I would fall to the back of the standings if I hitched a ride back. As luck would have it, Kim, in first place among females, was not far behind me and in the midst of the same mental and physical breakdown. We had individually decided that we were heading back and agreed to tackle our final eight miles together.
After several stops to check Kim’s toes for frostbite and my rather embarrassing episode of seeing jack-o-lantern faces in the snow, the torches emerged and we found ourselves approaching the Butler Lake checkpoint, enthusiastic volunteers and a large fire. I was disappointed to not finish all 64 miles, but relieved at the prospect of dry clothes and a McDonald’s breakfast.
Come to find out, Eric checked himself into a local clinic and was diagnosed with walking pneumonia. The dude’s capacity for pain and level of endurance was confirmed – he covered 38 miles in the Wisconsin winter with walking pneumonia. Badass.
Well done to Rod, the race director, on another well planned and safe race. Thanks pal. For all of you thinking of tackling the Frozen Otter, this race is for those who thrive on pain and more than one bonk. If frozen eyelids, sleep deprivation, skrinkage, all in the name of endurance, make you giggle like a schoolgirl then register for the Frozen Otter Trek in 2013.
See you there.
Kick start summer in style by competing for king of the Chicago River status at the inaugural Loop The Goose paddle race around Goose Island and surfing, SUPing and toasting Third Coast Surf Shop’s expansion into bigger digs!
