State Number 11 - Charlevoix Marathon

State Number 11 – Charlevoix Marathon, Charlevoix, MI

 

21 June 2014

 

I consider myself a life-long learner – not only because I am curious, but I consider self-education as an important component of learning.  When I see something new that interests me, I want to know more about it and how it connects to what I know. 

The world fascinates me and seeing, hearing or otherwise learning something new excites me.  Everything new I learn can only enhance everything I already know.  Knowledge is my favorite condiment to life and the world around me.

The Hatfield-McCoy Marathon brought me to a corner of the state of West Virginia.  It was my first time ever to the Mountain State and I had a few locations picked out to see and I also wanted to make this road trip an educational and worthy experience rather than running alone. 

Educational activities abound in the Appalachian region of our country, e.g., visiting the Fairfax Stone Historical Monument located at the source of the Potomac River (usually appreciated by history aficionados and land surveyors), the Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine and the New River Gorge for some exhilarating zip lining in the south central part of the state.  (Unfortunately, the Fairfax Stone was too far out of the way and a visit will have to wait for another day).

Instead of flying back home after Hatfield-McCoy and flying back to into Milwaukee only a few days later, we decided to make this a week-long road trip integrating three marathons in three states.  After Hatfield-McCoy, we had five days of free time to do and see what we basically wanted to do before our next marathon in Charlevoix, MI before continuing on to Manitowoc, WI the following day.

We left our short-term flat in Logan early Monday morning for an exciting and educational trip into coal country.  The drive through the mountainous backroads along the Daniel Boone Parkway and the West Virginia Turnpike to Beckley was very scenic.

West Virginia is tranquil and mostly mountain wilderness and one must appreciate the out-of-doors and be an outdoor type to really appreciate the state’s endless activities.

We had already secured a place to stay just outside of Oak Hill between Beckley and the New River Gorge.  But first, a trip to the Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine to browse through an old mining camp and a real underground coal mine.

The main attraction of the camp is a tour that takes visitors 1500 feet below the hillsides of the area under the supervision of a retired experienced coal miner.  Visitors ride in authentic man cars in the mine’s constant 50 degree temperatures from the entrance to old working areas of the coal mine and back.  All stops included a lecture of the history of coal mining from hand-hauling days and canaries into the modern era of mining.

The lectures definitely garnered my attention and I learned a great deal of the old-time mining techniques used versus the modern way mining is performed today.  The hard, backbreaking work and difficult life of a coal miner gives me a greater appreciation of my education and the butt-breaking work I do in an office.

Although the coal mine tour was great experience, nothing compared to the next great exciting activity that awaited us – an adrenaline junkie adventure over a forest canopy. 

We drove up U.S. 19 over the impressive New River Gorge Bridge, a single span arch bridge that towers over 800 feet above the New River.  Just beyond the bridge lies Adventures on the Gorge where we made reservations to partake in one of the coolest adventures around – zip lining.  In the meantime, we took in a view of the gorge from the viewing platform located outside of the visitor center before it closed for the day. 

We headed over to the other side of the gorge to hike the Kaymoor Mine trail to the famous 821 step staircase leading to the abandoned Kaymoor coal mine at the bottom of the gorge where one can see old coke ovens, processing plants and the abandoned town site near the still active railroad track in which trains would stop and fill up on the mined coal.  I stopped and reflected on the old days and the sights and sounds of the trains pulling into the loading area.

Whether freight or passenger trains, I still find trains fascinating.  Unfortunately, freight trains are becoming increasingly rare in this truck-oriented economy.  Virtually every kid-at-heart knows, the train ritual of an advancing train can be summarized this way:

The locomotive whistle calls and the red lights flash and the unmistakable cling-clang of the wig wags begin to sound.  The barrier gate arms lower.  How many diesel locomotives are there at the front? Two, three?  I hope it’s a lonnnnnnng train!  Let’s count the cars.  Hurry, lay down some pennies on the track.  Quick, put your hand in the air and pull it down as the huge locomotives chug past you while shaking the ground like mini earthquakes beneath your feet.  The engineer will blow the horn for you. 

Coal cars, black tankers full of oil, flat cars loaded with lumber or box cars covered with meaningless graffiti originating from who knows where that may or may not be harboring stowaways.

Flat cars with huge rolls of steel sheets similar to toilet paper rolls made for giant robots.  More coal cars; gee, we sure use a lot of coal.

I can see the end now.  The locomotive whistle sounds again from far off in the distance.  Sometimes there’s a caboose with a guy riding the outside of the car.  Wave, maybe he’ll wave back – he did!  Now, let’s pick up those flattened pennies.

This was a great hike and not for the faint-hearted.  There wasn’t much to see at the old mine camp, but having been to Beckley’s Exhibition mine, I learned the details of coal mining from a miner’s perspective, so it was that much more meaningful to see this old overgrown mining operation.  As I peered into the old mine shafts barricaded with steel bars to prevent people from exploring the inside, the escaping cool air was very welcome on a warm muggy day.

The trip down the staircase was quite easy, but the walk back up the seemingly endless steps was quite strenuous – especially after running a full marathon less than two days before.  A popular activity to test ones fitness is to run up the stairs and do push-ups at each landing.  Yea, right.

Monday, June 16:  Zip lining day at Adventures on the Gorge!  The sport isn’t a new concept for me.  To make this an awesome experience, I’ve equipped myself with all the compulsory zip lining skills from adventures on Maui and through the jungle canopies of Cancun, Mexico.

The popular adventure business affords enthusiasts and adrenaline junkies with several zip lines of over 1500 feet in length and were just the warm up leading to the ultimate adrenaline generating line exceeding 3100 feet called the Adrena-line.  Some in our group looked a little apprehensive at first, but I was ready to take the challenge head-on.  The guides said it is not uncommon to reach speeds in excess of 60 mph with the right aerodynamics.

Donned in our red helmets, harnesses and heavy-duty leather gloves, the first few lines were fun, but it wasn’t enough – I wanted more – give me the Adrena-line.

The pesky and annoying gnats in the area constantly flew around everyone’s faces while waiting for our turns.  A guide said to raise your hands over your head since they are attracted to the highest point.  Everyone in the group were raising their hands or placing their gloves on top of their helmets.  It looked funny, but I believe it helped.

It is not uncommon for my engineering mind to analyze things and why and how things work.  The hanging cable of the zip line was no exception.  Each of the zip line cables consist of a 5/8-inch galvanized aircraft cable wire anchored to either large trees, sections of an embedded power poles or large timbers fastened with engineered bolt systems.

It so happened that one of our guides had studied some engineering science in college.  I willingly had a side conversation with him about the cables and the tensile forces pulling at both end supports.  Just from the cable’s weight alone, we estimated that about 18,000 pounds of force are pulling at each end of the Adrena-line span.  It was quite evident large forces were at work given all the supporting cable guy wires.  I also demonstrated how fast a sine wave propagates along the suspended cable.  It was a cool physics lesson.

Not long after being secured to the trolley attached to the Adrena-line cable suspended over the ravine, I lifted my knees into my chest into a compact tuck and quickly gathered speed.  I estimate I was flying over the trees at least 60 mph toward the bottom of the cable’s natural catenary curve profile.

Hitting the aggressive braking system at the end of the line at a high rate of speed was a rush in itself with the sudden decrease in velocity. 

The whole experience was such a thrill, I wanted to go repeat the adventure a second time.  I can’t wait to do it again sometime soon – whether in West Virginia or some other locale.

Following our great adventure, we drove the road that leads to the bottom of the gorge to appreciate the gorge’s awe inspiring size 800 feet below the bridge and to partake in a refreshing swim in the New River before heading north towards our next destination in northern Michigan.

Driving through the backroads of West Virginia leading into Charleston made me realize the importance of coal to the region’s economy and how the railroads are such a large part of how coal is transported to various regions of the country.  It’s hard not to notice how the rich coal history has left its mark on the area and almost every town has been influenced by coal in some way. 

We made camp in the city of Ripley off I-77 for the night before continuing on through Ohio.  I decided to postpone seeing the Fairfax Stone since it was quite a distance out of our way.  Maybe some other time when we run the state of Maryland – or, maybe the Middle Point Mason-Dixon Marker on the Delmarva Peninsula, instead.  Since we still need to run the state of Delaware, maybe then I can then visit the Middle Point.  It remains to be seen.

Tuesday June 17:  We left Ripley, WV mid-morning hoping to make it to Michigan to close out the day.  The day’s itinerary included a visit to Hocking Hills State Park southeast of Columbus just south of Logan, OH.  It may be a little off the beaten path from U.S. Highway 33, but well worth the time to visit the park. 

Hocking Hills is a sprawling state park located in the foothills of the Appalachian’s with amazing geological features, caves, rock formations, streams, hiking trails and beautiful waterfalls, with my favorite part being the Old Man’s Cave.   It was a beautiful, warm sunny day as we walked some of the challenging trails seeing and enjoying some remarkable geologic formations encompassing the area.  However, time wasn’t on our side, so we weren’t able to hike and see most of the park’s features and attractions.

As we merged back on to U.S. 33, we quickly approached a major traffic back-up.  A radio station out of Columbus indicated that a major traffic collision was creating a miles long back-up and recommended taking an alternate route.

Without knowing the area, I managed to find a route on my phone’s map app that lead us around the snarled traffic.  So, we turned back around across the median to SR 664 to Bremen and circling back to Lancaster and on to Columbus.  Whether or not it was quicker versus waiting, we’ll never know.  Besides, it was an opportunity to switch drivers and have a much needed lunch/dinner stop in Lancaster.

I began driving from Lancaster through Columbus and north on U.S. 23 through Delaware, Findlay and Bowling Green to the outskirts of Toledo where we set up camp in the city of Maumee.

Wednesday June 18:  Our destination on this day was the northern Michigan city of Traverse City located on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan.  We got an early morning start and decided to pay a visit to the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library located at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor campus, just a short drive from Maumee.

I was expecting a presidential museum and library similar to those I’ve visited in the past, but this was only a library housing archival materials on President Ford’s life, career and presidency.  There wasn’t much for the ordinary person to see or do, but anyone involved with some presidential research, this would be the place to visit.  The museum, on the other hand, is located in Grand Rapids some two hours away.  I would have much rather visited that site, but it was a couple of hours out of our way.  Anyway, we saw enough and so it was on to Traverse City, in the interim, driving through the U of M campus.

The four-hour drive to Traverse City via I-75 made for an unexciting day.  I was happy to finally get settled in to our hotel and relax after a long drive.  I was tired, worn out and the hot tub looked very enticing.  Which is exactly where we headed.

With the summer solstice being three days away, daylight in the northern latitudes extends past 2200 hours.  Just before sundown, we made a trip to the busy and crowded Woodland Sweets Ice Cream (prized for their pizza, candy, sweets and other confectionary products) for an evening ice cream treat.

The rugged outdoorsy inspired décor displayed various taxidermy art of several carnivorous animals, varmints, moose and birds; with a wide variety of homemade jams, jellies, and canned goods available for purchase.

Thursday June 19:  Day two in Traverse City was set up to be a beautiful day.  The temperatures were warm and the mosquitos were out in droves.  Our first activity was a trip to Outrider Horseback Riding in Lake Anne, west of Traverse City not far from Sleeping Bear Dunes, to interact with some horses and do some western style horse riding through the fields and forests of the Outrider property.

The rolling country landscape was beset with bright late spring colors of the many wildflowers inhabiting the areas fields and the drive along the many country roads was something to behold.  Upon arrival at the Outrider, we thought we were at the wrong ranch.  There was no signage or anything to suggest we were at a horse riding establishment.  After we pulled into the driveway, wondering if this was the right place, we saw a ranch hand waving us in.  He said we were at the right place and acknowledged that his place is a little hard to find.  I thought a little sign in front would be appropriate.  I’m glad we had our GPS unit for navigation or we would have never found that place.

I would consider the Outrider a “no frills” ranch.  We had to wait for a few moments until a group of riders returned from a half-day trail ride and for the horses to cool off before we could get out on the trails.  In the meantime, we chatted with our cowboy guide, who was also the owner, about various things such as the man-made global warming hoax and conspiracies and some wild and crazy theories surrounding the solar system, Michigan and the U.S.  I thought it was entertaining but I couldn’t say whether or not I believe his theories and conjectures about his world and beyond.

While my wife has a passion for riding horses, I, on the other hand, look and feel awkward while mounted on a horse and hardly bear any resemblance to a cowboy or anyone who belongs on a horse.  I had doubts whether this was the right activity for me just before a marathon; but, what the hay, I was there for a good time.  My legs and butt usually end up getting stiff and sore after riding, especially if the stirrups aren’t adjusted for a proper fit.

I’ve ridden horses a few times and do know how to steer and control a horse, so the “how to ride” introduction by the guide was not really necessary.  I guess it is standard protocol.  As I requested, the guide generously matched me with a more docile horse (Bailey) so I would feel more comfortable.  As long as Bailey and I both got along, everything would be fine.

The one-hour ride on the trails of the property was a relaxing journey.  I enjoyed the peace and solitude of the open fields, the smell and sounds of the horse, and the shade of the hardwood forests.  Bailey was stubborn and annoying to say the least, constantly stopping to grab some green grass to munch on.  He had some fine tasting oats and hay at the stable, but I guess the green grass was just too irresistible.  I wanted to jerk the reigns to let Bailey know who was in charge, but since he didn’t belong to me, I just let him eat while gently nudging him to keep moving.

We worked up a huge appetite after our horseback riding experience – just wish they would have cooked up some cowboy vittles over an open fire for lunch.  Wishful thinking.  Of course, the tightness I felt in my legs was certainly a good indication of the soreness I experienced to over the next couple of days.  To take my mind off the rigidity and stiffness I was going through, a scrumptious Bubba-sized burger and a cold beer for lunch awaited us at Bubba’s Restaurant and Bar in the downtown area of Traverse City.  

Our hotel offered their guests the use of mountain bikes for personal enjoyment.  We each borrowed a well-worn and used bike from the front office and rode along the Traverse Area Recreation Trail, a rails-to-trails project following an old railroad right-of-way alignment, for a two to three mile bike ride.  It was a nice way to see parts unknown of Traverse City and to enjoy the beautiful summer weather, while escaping the heavily congested non-stop traffic on U.S. 31.

We capped off the day with a relaxing soak in the hot tub to relax my aching muscles from the horseback riding and to draw out the tensions of the day.

Friday June 20:  It was a cloudy morning in northern Michigan with rain in the forecast.  It was also packet pick-up day for the Charlevoix Marathon and the time was nearing for our next marathon adventure.  We left Traverse City mid-morning for our drive up U.S. 31 to Charlevoix before continuing on to the next destination, Petoskey, about 70 miles north of Traverse City. 

On the way to Charlevoix, we made a rest stop at a boutique business along the highway that sold a variety of flotsam and jetsam and locally grown produce, especially tart cherries – everything was cherries.  We were told that the northwestern region of Michigan is famous for their tart cherries and that festivals abound in most of the cities throughout the northern Michigan region.

It began to rain shortly before our arrival in Charlevoix.  Packet pick-up was held at Bridge Park at the southeast corner of the prominent Charlevoix draw bridge in downtown.  The rain really put a damper on the outdoor expo, but there wasn’t much but a packet pick-up area under a portable EZ-up and the swag surely lacked for this marathon.  The blue colored long-sleeve quarter zip tech shirt had somewhat of a cool logo with CVX printed on the upper left quadrant, but I wished it also said Charlevoix Marathon depicting the city’s draw bridge or the distinctive Charlevoix South Head Pier light on the front.

The rain was becoming heaver by the hour, but I didn’t want that to hamper my educational and learning experiences on this trip.  Since lighthouses pique my interest, I had to visit the Charlevoix South Pier Light Station located at the end of the south breakwater of the channel leading to Round Lake.

I climbed the steel skeletal structure standing at the end of the pier head and saw it houses a fifth order Fresnel lens.  It’s not much of a lighthouse, but serves its purpose guiding watercraft into the Charlevoix Marina.

There was still a heavy rain as we went to lunch at the warm and cozy Scovies Gourmet Deli and Bakery on Bridge Street near the draw bridge.  The old world bistro-style café serves up comfort food, salads, sandwiches, soups and scrumptious looking pies and cakes – it looked as if wedding cakes were the bakery’s forte.  I indulged myself with a sandwich called “The Judge” and the best part of my lunch experience was looking out the window watching the draw bridge rise.

After lunch, it was time to pack up and drive 20 miles north on U.S. 31 to our next hotel in Petoskey.

Saturday June 21:  It’s marathon Saturday.  After a frenetic week of driving and activities, the marathon was finally upon us.  Mentally, I felt rested and prepared to take on the task of a marathon, but physically, I was still a little stiff and sore from the horseback riding, but I wasn’t going to let the aching muscles and joints bother me.  Sure, it’s untimely, but the thought of checking off another state outweighed those inconveniences. 

The rain had stopped during the evening, but the skies were still cloudy and overcast.  Some veteran Charlevoix runners have said that northwestern Michigan weather can be all over the place and can fluctuate from hot, humid and miserable to cold, windy and rainy (and still miserable).  The cloudy cool weather was a godsend and ideal for running. 

The eighth running of the Charlevoix Marathon began promptly at 0600 on the north side of the draw bridge in downtown Charlevoix after the singing of the national anthem.  Ironically, anyone wishing to volunteer to sing the anthem is eligible for a free entry for next year’s marathon.  I don’t know if it would be worth it – assuming I were to run this marathon again.  My voice would likely scare all the runners away.

The out and back course took runners through the residential tree-lined sections of the city leading to the Little Traverse Wheelway paralleling U.S. 31.  The wheelway is basically an eight-foot wide Class I bike trail connecting Charlevoix with Petoskey with amazing views of Lake Michigan (at least in some places).

The first 3.5 miles crisscrossed through some of Charlevoix’s neighborhoods.  My soreness from riding horses was evident but wasn’t too debilitating and didn’t seem to subside as time went on.  I assumed that the area would be full of spectators cheering and supporting the runners, but my assumption was wrong.  I was dumbfounded by how little support was shown by the residents along the course.  Correct me if I’m wrong, maybe most of the local residents consider this event a nuisance and don’t support it.

Once runners departed town and onto the wheelway, course support was virtually non-existent, with the exception of those staffing the water and aid stations or friends and family of runners moving up and down the course.  As the race evolved, the number of runners thinned out and listening to music would have certainly come in handy on lonely sections.  I find that there is no music in existence that is more motivating than the sounds of people cheering, as well as the sounds of the rhythmic breathing and footsteps beside me.

The wheelway was primarily flat with two somewhat noteworthy inclines, to some degree, at Marathon Miles 5.5 (downhill) and at 12 (uphill), preceding the marathon turnaround located just outside of Petoskey.  The first down gradient came after the 3200 foot long wood viaduct that spanned some swamp and overflow land.  The mosquitos were very pesky and annoying in that wooded and wetland area and I had to keep moving to avoid being eaten alive.

Once past the viaduct, the course turned fairly flat weaving through and around forest and lakefront areas with some scattered minor rolling hills leading up to the half turn-around point.

From a distance, the uphill portion of the course before the turnaround looked daunting, but as I approached the grade, it wasn’t too terribly dreadful and managed to cruise comfortably up to the turnaround cone feeling good with a half split time of 2:08.  I am not much of a fan of out and back courses, but I have to admit one encouraging point of such courses is that runners know what to expect on the return trip sometimes making the time seem go faster.

With approximately ten kilometers remaining, I was becoming fatigued as I diverged off the wheelway onto Waller Road, so I decided to take a short walk break.  The Charlevoix Township fire house was just up ahead at Marathon Mile 23.  Fire personnel finagled some hoses to a sprinkler system looped around ladders providing runners with a refreshing shower of cold water.  It was akin to walking through a tunnel of water spray.

Being a lifelong resident of California, I’m not used to seeing water being wasted like that.  But, hey, there’s a lot of water in nearby Lake Michigan, so why not use it.  I guess it’s just my mindset of being proselytized in thinking that a drought really exists throughout California.  I digress.

The course looped around some residential streets, through the North Point Nature Reserve and back to Mt. McSauba Road.  At this point in the race, the number of runners was pretty much non-existent and I couldn’t see any runners ahead of me to follow.  Blaming a lack of appropriate signage and the absence of race personnel, I for some reason turned left onto Division Street, instead of making a right turn onto Michigan Avenue, where I proceeded for another ¼ mile or so.

I had this instinct that things did not look or feel right, so I turned back around towards Michigan Avenue and noticed a runner ahead of me apparently going the correct way.  I saw a course volunteer wandering around and chatting with people.  I hastily informed that person to quit dawdling and pay better attention and to make sure runners are directed the right way.  Needless to say, I wasn’t too happy running an extra half mile for no reason.  That little deviation cost me at least five extra minutes!

Finisher certificate

Knowing that I had only a half mile to go, more or less, I picked up my pace on the steady, but slight, downhill towards the finish line on U.S. 31 and cruised in with a finish time of 4:33:03 for a 10:25 per mile pace.  All the pain and discomfort seemed to melt away on that welcomed downhill finish. 

Age graded score: 50.88%

Age graded time: 4:19:18

 

The esteemed and often sought after finisher’s medal consisted of a heavy duty design illustrating the lower portion of Michigan with a star pinpointing Charlevoix, affixed to a light blue ribbon with “Charlevoix 2014” printed on it.  What about the Upper Peninsula and the Yoopers, eh?  The Trolls must be delighted the UP has gone astray.

Proudly displaying my medal draped over my neck complete with a salt-crusted film on my face, I met up with my wife, who finished several minutes ahead of me, to both marvel at the downhill finish and thought it was the perfect touch to this event.

Over at the post-race food area in Bridge Park, I gathered up some bananas, chips, pizza, chocolate milk and some other food items to quell my hunger and replace needed nutrition and electrolytes.  Oh, how great it would be if grilled walleye sandwiches were available with fish caught out of Lake Michigan or any of the surrounding lakes.

There wasn’t much happening in the park or post-race for that matter, so we said good-bye to Charlevoix and prepared for our six-hour drive over the Mackinac Bridge through the Upper Peninsula to our next destination in Manitowoc, Wisconsin to compete in our second marathon of this trip.

The 405 marathon finishers of the 2014 marathon completed the course with an average finish time of 4:14:41, a median time of 4:09:40 and a standard deviation of 0:45:05, representing approximately 68 percent of all finishers.  The winner’s finish times were 2:41:28 (M) and 2:55:28 (F).

Charlevoix is a smaller sized city of around 3500 permanent residents and typical of northern Michigan cities that harbor significant seasonal and tourist populations.  The U.S. 31 draw bridge raises every half hour, 24/7, opening a passageway for various watercraft entering and exiting the marina, Round Lake and Lake Charlevoix.  On marathon day, staying and parking north of the bridge will avoid any heavy traffic back-ups and delays when the draw bridge is up.  We found a parking spot in a nearby residential section close to the start/finish areas, giving us a quick getaway post-race, while avoiding any draw bridge activity.

As previously stated, I generally don’t like out-and-back courses, but I have to make CVX an exception.  By and large, there are a few hills, but the course is mainly flat.  The course was pretty well marked, with the exception of my little detour, and there were plenty of aid stations; however, staffing could be improved.  I know they’re eager volunteers, and I always thank them up and down, nonetheless.

The view of Lake Michigan, the forested areas along the wheelway and the long wooden viaduct over swamp and overflow lands were amazing and made the out-and-back worthwhile (and everyone experiences the view twice). 

For a small, BQ-friendly and scenic no-frills marathon with great race directors, the Charlevoix Marathon may be hard to beat.  Now, it’s on to Manitowoc!

 

 

 

State Number 12- HFM Maritime Marathon

State Number 12 – HFM Maritime Marathon, Manitowoc, WI

 

22 June 2014

 

Our week-long road trip was finally coming to an end.  We left Charlevoix not long after finishing the marathon and the 350-mile 6.5 hour drive to Manitowoc across the Upper Peninsula was the only remaining hurdle sitting in our way.

Getting to Manitowoc in time for the expo and packet pick up was pretty much impossible.  Given that the Maritime Marathon is a small, low key event, we were able pick up our tech shirts and bibs at the starting line area on race day morning.  Yay, no pressure.

I took the reins of the car in Charlevoix and directed us northbound on U.S. 31 until it merged onto I-75 about four miles south of Mackinaw City.  We made a pit stop in Mackinaw City to view the Mackinac Bridge from the shore line and to view the Old Mackinac Point Light where Lake Michigan meets Lake Huron at Colonial Michilimackinac Park.

I wanted to schedule a tour of the light, but the relentless mosquitos outnumbered us by the tens of thousands.  As soon as I stepped out of the car, in a matter of seconds, a swarm of those nagging insects were there to greet us.  Almost immediately, mosquitos covered the car’s windshield analogous to scenes from Alfred Hitchcock’s classic thriller, The Birds.  Needless to say, waiting in line for a lighthouse tour was simply out of the question and was immediately put on the back burner until a date yet to be determined.

Shortly after crossing the magnificent suspension bridge spanning the strait, we merged off I-75 onto U.S. 2 leading us down the UP’s lakeshore into Wisconsin.

The drive was rather unexciting to say the least.  Views of the lake were limited at best, and sights generally included forest lands and some small towns scattered along the way.

Ever since my early teen-age years, I’ve had the desire to visit Dollar Bay and Escanaba, MI.  Why, I don’t really know, but I believe it was from my days as a member of an international Scandinavian organization.  From what I know, Scandinavian emigrants left Sweden and Finland to the United States and a number of them settled in these cities.  While Dollar Bay was considerably out of the way, Escanaba happened to lie en route to Wisconsin.  After all these years, I can now say that I’ve been to Escanaba.  I know that doesn’t mean much to anyone, but I was pleased to check-off a long-standing bucket list item.

Soon we crossed the state line at Menominee while gaining back an hour as we once again were in the Central time zone.

I was getting weary of driving and was more than ready to arrive in Manitowoc.  But first things first, I planned to stop at Lambeau Field to see the legendary stadium and home to the Green Bay Packers. 

Being unfamiliar to the area and not having my GPS tuned in thinking I knew where I was, I unfortunately ignored the I-41 exit and continued on I-43 instead not realizing my mistake until leaving Green Bay.

I wasn’t very happy, but getting to Manitowoc outweighed the desire to turn around.  Besides, it was getting late and everything was probably closing up shop for the day anyway.

After six and a half hours, we finally arrived at our hotel, the Baymont Inn Manitowoc Lakefront overlooking the harbor and the mouth of the Manitowoc River near the Wisconsin Maritime Museum.

The first order of business after check-in was to satiate our appetites with some pizza at the Fork & Knife.  I don’t believe it was the best I’ve had, but it was good enough. 

After a relaxing time in the indoor pool and spa, we hit the sack for some much needed rest for Marathon Sunday.

The marathon start was about two miles south of our hotel off Viebahn Street on the University of Wisconsin - Manitowoc campus with the finish line being in a grassy common area located on the east side of UWM. 

The university is a small two-year college overlooking the western shore of Lake Michigan and was a lot smaller than what I had envisioned.  About an hour before the 0700 race start, we picked up our bibs and shirts at a portable table under an EZ-up set up in the school’s parking lot.  During this time, technicians were busy configuring the electronics, wiring and programming for the all-important timing system.

It was a cool, hazy and overcast summer morning and was as good as it could have been, especially for a race reputed to having little shade along the course.  Two communities come together each year to host this out-and-back marathon event.  The cities of Two Rivers (aptly named for the two rivers, the East and West Twin Rivers, which flow through the city) and Manitowoc join forces to make this annual marathon along the Lake Michigan shore a success utilizing residential streets and the lakeshore’s Mariner’s Trail.

This double marathon weekend was my second go-round.  The thought of food poisoning ruining a marathon definitely came to mind as what happened in Alabama, but since I wasn’t sick during the night, I was in the clear.

It was the first day of the summer solstice.  Approximately 250 to 300 runners assembled at the start area ready to take on the day’s challenge.  Some runners were jogging around as a way to loosen up and warm up their muscles while others just hung around conversing with people and just enjoying the moment.  I was still sore from Charlevoix and from the horseback riding days earlier, so how I would perform was still a large question mark.  I just wanted to finish in under five hours.

After the National Anthem, a local pastor led a short but inspiring invocation asking that the Lord watch over all the runners, to have a great and safe race, and afford everyone the will to win¼not by coming in ahead of everyone else, but by beating yourself.  Promptly at 0700, the horn blew and we were off and running.

The course exited the UWM campus into an upscale residential area.  After a few turns and some rolling hills, runners passed by the SS Badger car ferry dock, which happened to be steaming on the lake at the time, and the harbor area.

USS Cobia

Once in the harbor area, we crossed over a draw bridge spanning the Manitowoc River and by the USS Cobia submarine adjacent to the Maritime Museum, and I can’t forget, by our hotel.  It would have been easy for me to slip inside the hotel, rest and relax a bit only to join forces with the runners as they came back around.  I do admit that thought crossed my mind; however, we only regret the chances we didn’t take and the miles we didn’t run.  I’ll never know how strong I am until being strong is my only choice.  Even though the soreness was a constant reminder of the discomfort marathons have on the human body, I was in it for the long run, literally.

After passing by the hotel complex, it was on to the Mariner’s Trail skirting the Manitowoc Yacht Club and Marina into the City of Two Rivers.

Even though the course profile shows this as a flat section of the course, I swear there was a slight incline, and it felt as if I was running uphill the whole time.  Maybe it was from being tired and sore, I don’t know. 

The nearly five-mile long curvilinear pedestrian/bike trail from Manitowoc to Two Rivers wrapped around eye-catching landscaping with striking views of the lake on a normal day; however, the hazy/foggy air of this particular morning made for limited visibility across the tranquil lake water.

The Mariner’s Trail ended and metamorphosed into a sidewalk at Memorial Drive in Two Rivers.  A slight detour was in effect for this year’s marathon due to the construction on the 17^th Street drawbridge forcing runners to utilize the 22^nd Street Bridge to cross the East Twin River.

As I entered Two Rivers, a city of around 11,000 residents, I noticed a sign displaying the proverb that the city is the “birthplace of the ice cream sundae.”  Wow, who would have thought?  Probably don’t sell many sundaes during the winter though.

On the other side of the river, runners entered the Neshotah Beach area where many spectators assembled alongside the sand-covered concrete pedestrian trail to cheer on and encourage runners.  The beach and park area looked like a nice place to cool off near the lakeshore, play a game of pick-up basketball, beach volleyball, softball or play on the playground equipment during the hot summer months.

The concrete beach trail lasted for only a half-mile or so before joining up with Neshotah Road through a wooded area leading up to a pedestrian trail consisting of a decomposed granite/clayey surface for a mile, more or less, before connecting to Sandy Bay Road. 

A portable water mister set up along the trail invited runners to cool-off before continuing to the turn-around.  I didn’t believe the mister was really necessary, let alone set up in the right place.  It only created a muddy mess on the trail forcing runners into some brushy areas alongside the trail in an effort to avoid tracking the heavy mud on the soles of their shoes making for some uncomfortable running.

The half-way turnaround point was located in farm country along a path carved out in a stand of pine trees near the Port Sandy Bay parking lot.  I crossed the timing mat in a time of 2:17:01.

The return trip traced out the exact same course so I knew what to expect as I made my way back to Manitowoc.

My fatigue level and any kind of manageable pain and stiffness held steady for the first half, and some, and really didn’t affect my running too much until things began to fall apart upon leaving Two Rivers while merging back on to the Mariner’s Trail around Marathon Mile 17.5.  My left hamstring and left adductor muscles began to hurt triggering a substantial decline in my pace.

Oddly enough, my journey back on the Mariner’s Trail still gave me the impression I was running uphill.  That was impossible, but it was likely the fatigue I was fighting and just seemed like running uphill.

Over the next four to five miles, I resorted to more walking than running and taking in nutrition and fluids at each aid station wasn’t helping much.  The realization of breaking five hours was quickly fading and I had to accept my fate no matter what.  As long as I finished, I was going to go home with a happy smile and would consider this double marathon a success.  Hey, it was much better than First Light in Alabama.

SS Badger loaded with vehicles

Once again, I passed the Yacht Club, our hotel and the museum and I knew I had a tad over two miles to go.  But in those two miles, the short substantial hills in the residential area of the city were deadly and were almost too much for my legs to handle without resorting to a slow walk. 

As I looped around the harbor, the SS Badger, loaded with passengers and their vehicles, approached the harbor’s dock on its return trip from Ludington, MI.  The ship’s blaring horn reverberated throughout the harbor as it was mooring.  It was quite an impressive show.   I guess being a slow runner on that day had its advantages.

Actually, I think the ship bears an uncanny resemblance of the RMS Titanic, minus the smokestacks.  On an interesting note, the ferry route across Lake Michigan to and from Ludington has an official highway designation of U.S. Highway 10.  One doesn’t have to contend with traffic jams on that section of highway.

The rolling hills began as soon as I left the ferry dock area on S. Lakeview Drive in to the residential section on Madison Street.  With my injured muscles coupled with extreme fatigue, walking the hills was my only option. 

Approaching the finish line, the course did a hair-pin turn off Lakeside Boulevard on to a gravel trail with a short but steep gradient just before a sharp right into the finish line on the field of a grassy common area of UWM.  For anyone with weak and wobbly legs, I was concerned that the sudden steep gradient could pose a fall hazard.

I finished with a time of 5:10:47, a pace of 11:49 per mile.

Age graded score:  44.7%

Age graded time:  4:43:45

 

For everyone crossing the finish line, the race director was there to personally shake your hand and congratulate you on your big accomplishment.  I thought that added a special touch to the event.  Of the roughly 250 marathon runners, the average finish time was 4:14:54 with a standard deviation of 0:44:12.

After receiving my finisher’s medal, to say I wasn’t stiff and sore was an understatement.  Just beyond the finish chute, a steep grassy slope stared into the eyes of runners.  In order to get to the food area, everyone had to navigate themselves up that hill, and it was a real challenge, at least for me.  The hunger and thirst couldn’t hold me back from a long anticipated meal, nevertheless.

Both hot and cold post-race food was offered, such as burgers, brats, ice cream, Gatorade, water and, of course, beer.  Sitting down on the lawn to take a load off was a task in itself.  My stiff back and legs ached.  I was fearful.  Once seated, it seemed I would not be able to rise back up again without any kind of external assistance.  My wife, who finished ahead of me, walked over to retrieve a brat and an ice cold beer while I rested my decrepit, dilapidated and broken-down body.  Why do I do this to myself?  Oh, it’s fun.  I know, all the soreness will eventually disappear and the marathon will only be a memory as I look forward to the next double marathon weekend. 

The finish line wasn’t just an ordinary finish line.  It was a symbol to me that I can achieve much more than I thought possible.  I ignored those inner demons that told me a double was too much.  I had the strength and stamina to finish strong down that steep little uneven gravel-surfaced hill to the finish line and that the world is a much bigger and open place than I thought possible.

I know this may sound like a cliché, but I think trying to explaining what it feels like to finish a double marathon is difficult to define because it can be a very solitary, personal and unique experience.  Fighting through a marathon is all mind over matter and once you have decided to do it, the challenge is all yours to face; but the feeling is all yours, too.

This marathon is not a big race by any means, but the enthusiastic and cheerful volunteers and spectators along the entire course made it seem big and more enjoyable.  Also, let us not forget the support staff for making this a memorable event.

Somewhere around here is a marker, but DO NOT DISTURB

I found the strength to position myself to an upright posture after sitting for a half-hour or so.  I guess it was the added nutrition and fluids that gave me the vitality to move around.  At first, walking over to the car felt like I was running another marathon, but once I loosened up, I was more pliable and elastic.

After I cleaned up and put on some fresh dry clothes, I felt as if I could tackle another marathon¼well, maybe a 10K.  We got back into the car and drove some of the course for some pictures and to reminisce about the trials and tribulations I experienced towards the end of the race.

Ayyyy

Upon our return to the hotel, we spent a considerable amount of time in the hot tub to soothe our aching muscles and to reflect upon our run and that we can, yet again, check off another state on our list.

Our flight from Milwaukee was scheduled for the early afternoon hours so we had a few hours to see some sights in Milwaukee.

As a kid, I enjoyed watching television sitcom shows, such as Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley, and All in the Family, to name a few, considered TV classics today.  Happy Days portrayed the fictitious characters of Fonzi, Ralph, Potsie and Ritchie and his family growing up in 1950s Milwaukee.  Gee, if only we could find Arnold’s Drive-in.

While I was looking for some things to do in Milwaukee, I happened upon a web site showcasing the “Bronze Fonz” as a popular photo spot for visitors.  Located in the downtown section of Milwaukee, the statue is very similar to the bronze effigy of Mary Tyler Moore tossing her iconic hat into the air on downtown Minneapolis’ Nicolette Mall.  Yes, of course, I also watched the 1970s hit sitcom The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

The “Bronze Fonz” is located on the Milwaukee Riverwalk on Wells Street in downtown Milwaukee.  The bronze figure depicts Henry Winkler as Happy Days’ character Arthur Fonzarelli, or simply, the Fonz.  He stands in his typical attire consisting of his trademark black leather jacket, white tee shirt and blue jeans while giving his distinguishing two-handed thumbs up, ayyyy.  Way too cool!

Besides the typical museums, concerts, art galleries or participating in the hip scene, what was there to do in Milwaukee on a Monday morning?  Downtown was nothing more than the hustle and bustle of worker bees buzzing around trying to make a living and time didn’t allow us to take in a Brewers game.

Hey, I'm a Cheesehead

Whether it’s on tap, in bottles, cans or kegs, beer is what made Milwaukee famous.  Since time was of the essence, a brewery tour of Blatz, Pabst, Schlitz or Miller was obviously out of the question.  Gee, I didn’t know Pabst Blue Ribbon was still around.  Anyway, Milwaukee’s beer heritage will continue to thrive without us.

Maybe we could drive by the Shotz Brewery Laverne and Shirley worked at for some adult libations¼right.  We could have hopscotched arm-in-arm down Wells Street chanting “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated”¼not a chance.  So, it was back to the airport to return the car and prepare for our flight back to LAX.

During our rental car return, the attendant who checked us in expressed some bewilderment as he calculated how many miles we drove during our week long rental – just over 2600, equivalent to driving from New York to Los Angeles.  It didn’t matter, we had unlimited miles.

Milwaukee Airport entrance

There is so much to see and do in the United States, and it was fun to integrate three marathons in one week while seeing many wonderful things along the way.  Would I do something like this again, maybe?  Just depends where in the country such a road trip would take place. 

Wisconsin and Michigan are affectionately known as the “Mitten States” due to their peculiar likenesses to a pair of mittens, although I think Michigan bears more of a resemblance than Wisconsin does.  What a way to earn a pair of mittens, eh?