Marquette Trail 50 miler - 2010 Race Report

Marquette Trail 50 Miler - 2010 Race Report 8/21/10: I rolled into the Tourist Park campground at one in the morning. I had just driven eight hours to Marquette from Grand Rapids. Since the race started at 6:30, I would only be able to sleep for about four hours.

The previous day I had driven 12 hours straight from New York, my rusted Chevy loaded down with my belongings, in a cross country move that would take me from the east coast trail running scene to my old haunts in West Michigan. I was happy to be back in my home state again, but was also exhausted from the drive and the lack of sleep.

As the runners gathered in the pre-dawn light just before the start, I wondered how far I could go. The day was cool, cloudy and threatening rain.

The race is runner’s choice: 50K or 50 miles, but in order to keep going for the 50 miler, you have to make it to the mile 27 aid station by 1 pm. I knew I’d be cutting it close.



Just when it was light enough to see, we started off. The race begins with a loop that’s a little less than two miles. Since this part of the course was unmarked, a cyclist led the pack around the loop before we turned onto the trail system.

Most of the course is single track, but there’s a fair bit of two track jeep road as well.
The soil here is decidedly sandy. I was glad I wore gaiters to keep the sand out of my shoes. It had also rained hard the night before, and this helped keep the sand down.

Unfortunately, the rain had also made a stream overflow across the trail about 5 miles (?) into the race. It was shallow, only a few inches deep, but there was no dry way to cross.

I had left a drop bag with dry shoes and socks in my car, for some reason thinking the course passed by the start at the 50 K mark. In reality, the 50k splits from the 50 miler about four miles from the parking lot. So, my feet would be wet the rest of the day.

The trail wound through the forest. The air smelled clean, of sand and fern and pine.

After awhile, I reached the road and the Sugarloaf aid station. The path wound through rough granite boulders to a staircase. Apparently the local tourist board thought the climb too strenuous and so installed stairs. I trotted up the steps to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain where I was greeted with a 360 panorama of the coastline, now shrouded in rain and mist. I stopped for a moment to take in the fine view.



There was some rock hopping to be done down the backside of Sugarloaf, but mountains in Michigan are not particularly mountainous, so I found it pretty easy.


Soon I emerged onto the lakeshore. Although I spent much of my childhood on the beaches of Michigan, I was still surprised by the beauty of the great lake, Superior.

As the trail neared the beach, I could see breakers rolling in. A cool wind whipped up, and I felt a fine mist of rain on my face.

I was alone on the trail.

The shore was at first gold colored sand lined with enormous boulders of all colors rounded from centuries of crashing waves and grinding ice flows. The water was cold and remarkably clear.

Further along the trail the land dropped sharply to the water’s surface in red granite cliffs stained green in places from veins of copper ore. Marquette is copper country. Among the cliffs were little beaches tucked in so that they could only be reached from the water. I could see the footprints of kayakers.

I ran through a patch of ripe huckleberries and briefly thought about bears. But the woods were open and inviting, and I was not afraid.

The trail turned inland, and I remember flying along at a fast pace. The ground was soft with pine needles and very easy on my legs.

Eventually I came to the “top of the world” loop,” most of which is two track, but with a single track climb to the “top of the world” with views in all directions. Here someone had constructed a small shrine. Propped up against a small rock was a photograph of a woman in running clothes. This was circled with a few flowers and candles and a pair of trail running gaiters.

At the end of the loop the aid station volunteers helpfully told me I would have to hurry to make the 1pm cutoff. I did some quick calculations and thought I could make it, so I picked up the pace

About ¾ of a mile from the next aid, I caught up to another runner and told him he would have to go faster if he intended to make the cutoff. He agreed and we charged through the woods. We made it to the aid station with three minutes to spare.

The volunteers were amused by out cheers at being allowed to continue. We now had to complete a nine mile out and back, then run four additional miles to the finish. The out and back portion is on the “Noque” a two track road which, in the winter, is a cross country ski trail.

The clouds had blown away and, since it was now midday, we were exposed to the sun. I was hot and started to go slower. Parts of the Noque were very runnable, but other parts were overgrown with grass and weeds.

At this point, a second runner caught up to me and we talked for awhile. She had come through the last aid station right behind me, making the cutoff by one minute. I was grateful for the conversation, since it seemed like forever before we reached the turnaround.

After the out and back, there are four miles left to go. The first two miles are rocky and the last two miles are flat and very runnable. After the relatively smooth Noque, the rocky miles can be challenging. At one point I slipped and skinned by elbow on the rough granite. The last two miles I let loose with pent up energy, and came into the finish 12 hours, 13 minutes, and 6 seconds after I started.

Afterward, I showered and changed and drove into town for dinner. I went to the Vierling restaurant and microbrewery, which is known for its Lake Superior whitefish and its fine craft beers. I ordered a pale ale, which was fantastic, dry hopped, and nearly an IPA.

A fine end to a beautiful race.