Run July 30 - August 1, 2022
I’ll come clean from the get go. It was about the song.
Most of my regular readers know that I write songs about my races. Opinions on the artistic merit of these pieces vary, but most people at least get the idea that it’s all in fun and they aren’t to be taken particularly seriously. The fact that I accompany them with a ukulele tends to reinforce that. But, not being one for false humility (or any form of humility, really), I’ll state that some of them are actually pretty good.
I usually write them during the race; it gives me something to do during the tedious time between 6 and 12 hours in where I’ve run out of interesting thoughts but haven’t yet reached the state of mental numbness. But, partly because I was just really enamored with the idea of a 200-mile loop around Chicago and partly because it gave an obvious opportunity for 12-bar blues, I ended up writing the song for the Chicago Outerbelt just in time for the race to be cancelled. And, I was more bummed about losing the song than not doing the race.
After stewing over that a bit, I decided that just because the race was cancelled didn’t prevent me from running the loop (and subsequently publishing the song). The route was already recognized by Fastest Known Time (FKT) and, while a group claimed to have through-hiked it over the course of a couple weeks, nobody had provided documentation of a successful completion. So, it was a run-it-and-get-in-the-record-books kind of thing. Seemed like an easy win all around.
Easy, except for the running 200 miles part. My longest run to date is 105. I don’t recall thinking that another 95 sounded like a good idea at the end of that one. Several ultrarunners have told me that things don’t really change much after around 80 miles. Sure, you’d rather stop, but it’s a choice. Your body will keep going if you tell it to. I have no reason to doubt them, but every reason to doubt myself. Fifty hours is a long time to keep revisiting a decision you don’t like and that’s a best-case scenario. This could take much longer.
As a defense against that, I recruit a support crew consisting of Andy Bartelsmeyer and Mickey Howell along with Chicago local Jenny Thorsen. FKT keeps separate records for supported and unsupported efforts and I’m certainly not interested in making this harder than it needs to be. Andy, Mickey, and I drive up from St. Louis Friday afternoon anticipating a 6PM start. Jenny will meet us the next morning at which point we will start working in shifts to keep everyone from wanting to kill each other out of sleep deprivation. In an easily anticipated development, we are delayed by a wreck on I-55 heading into the city and don’t arrive at Soldier Field until 6:30. That ends up being both important and irrelevant. After a quick photo to document the start, I’m underway at 6:34.
I’m navigating off the GPS track on my watch which only shows the shape of the path. As the Chicago lakefront has dozens of paths and the route is somewhat complicated, it’s quite distracting to try to stay on course. I try to bring up the route on my phone using Strava but find the track there is only showing the waypoints, not the detailed route. After a couple slow miles, I get into a bit of a rhythm and don’t have to stop so often.
Prior to starting, I had cleared a couple of planned re-routes with FKT. One was taking the bike path around the Botanic Gardens, which will be closed when I get there around midnight. The other comes only four miles in: taking the lakefront path rather than going through Grant Park. I would have preferred to start and finish at the fountain in the park, but this is Lollapalooza weekend so doing that would have involved not only buying a $250 ticket but also pushing through 50,000 alternative music fans.
A few miles later, I hit my first unplanned re-route. The delayed start has me arriving at Caldwell Lily Pool shortly after the gates are locked. The loop around the pool is only a couple hundred meters, so I’m sure skipping it won’t invalidate the attempt, but it is a bit annoying that the route contains sections that get locked. The through-hikers did everything during the day. I wonder how many more times I’m going to have to deviate given my round the clock schedule.
At fifteen miles, I get to my third crew stop where the route leaves the lakefront. It’s now fully dark and I’m very happy to be leaving the maze of trails for a straight shot along city streets for a while. I’m making decent progress – roughly 12-minute miles – but I really need a break from the stress of trying to line up my path with the tiny squiggle on my watch face.
Two stops later, Mickey and Andy inform me that they’ve cracked the mystery of the Strava track. Turns out that the web version displays the track just fine but the phone app only draws straight lines between waypoints. As someone who’s been writing software for the last 40 years, that frankly boggles my mind. I don’t know why they would be using a different code base for the app. Anyway, being able to bring up the track, my position, and a real map all at once greatly simplifies the navigation. Since the course is about to latch onto the North Branch Trail for the next 20 miles, that’s not an immediate concern, but it will be later.
Running the trail at night is an odd mix of senses. Visually, it’s a trail through the woods, following the forest preserves along the north branch of the Des Plaines River. The ears tell a completely different story as the sounds of the city are everywhere. The laughter of backyard parties, jets on final approach to O’Hare, a group of street racers and the subsequent arrival of the cops to break it up. The dissonance is invigorating.
That said, this is a very long run and a break is in order. Approaching the 30-mile stop at Harms Woods, I tell my crew to get out the mat so I can take a quick break. The lot at Harms Woods is chained since it’s after dark, so they find a parking lot across the street. We set a timer for 10 minutes and I take a quick nap.
Eight miles later we hit our second planned re-route. We knew the Botanic Garden would be closed at night, so rather than going straight through it, I’m going to stay on North Branch path which runs just east of the grounds. Except, it doesn’t. While the path is right along the edge of the gardens, it is inside the property which is surrounded by a fairly imposing brick wall. I could probably squeeze under the gate, but can’t be sure I could get out the other end. Plus, it’s pretty hard to plead ignorance if you’re caught pulling a stunt like that. I text the crew that I’m going to have to re-route on the fly. The most promising path appears to be running along the wall to the west. This also means running along I-94 and even at 2AM, there’s plenty of traffic. There’s a wide swath of grass between the wall and the highway so it’s not dangerous, just annoying.
Back on route north of the garden we’re in a very high-end neighborhood and almost every house has a fence and surveillance camaras. We do a drive-by aid station, stopping the van on the street just long enough to refill my bottles and grab a sandwich.
I then continue north on the Green Bay trail, which is an old railroad grade. As it passes through Highland Park, I notice ribbons and flowers alongside the trail. It takes me a few moments to find the context and realize this is an impromptu memorial garden at the spot of the shooting a month ago. I pause for a short prayer and am back on my way.
At 45 miles, the eastern sky is starting to lighten and Andy joins me as a pacer while Mickey continues on in the van. Dawn five miles later brings the prettiest part of the course: the nature path through Middlefork Savanna. I had originally hoped to get here a bit sooner, but now I’m glad I didn’t. A mist shrouds the entire park yet the morning sun peaks through just enough to send sparkles everywhere amidst the bright prairie flowers. It is nothing short of spectacular.
It also completely soaks my shoes and socks, so at the end of the section, I take another quick lie down break and let my feet dry out before putting on clean socks and shoes. Mickey and Andy run off to find breakfast while I make the turn south. At 55 miles, we’re not nearly halfway, but reaching the northernmost part of the course does feel like something of an accomplishment.
Mickey takes over pacing duties at the next stop. At the following stop, our third crew member, Jenny, joins us. Mickey and I continue and, closing in on the next stop, my watch sends an off-course alert. That seems odd because there have been no trail junctions anywhere. We quickly consult the Strava map and see that the prescribed route does indeed turn off the path we are on, but there is nothing even resembling a deer track heading that direction through the woods. Furthermore, bringing up the heat map shows that not a single Strava-using soul has followed this hypothetical path through the woods. We text that we’re going to have to find another re-route and getting to the planned stop is going to add a lot of distance, so we’re going to have to meet somewhere else.
None of this translates particularly well to text messaging, especially given the fact that I’m trying to keep moving. After bailing out to a road, I head back towards the course and send Mickey to find the rest of the crew at the original stop. Turns out, they’ve already moved on to a new rendezvous point. So, Andy has to go back to get Mickey while Jenny stays put and gets me back on my way. While frustrating, these are the sorts of crew snafus that one expects in an ultra. The re-routes, on the other hand, are becoming concerning.
Jenny takes the next stop as well while Andy and Mickey leapfrog ahead to get some rest at the one after that. I notice a sign that says that the trail I’m on is not through – that it crosses a live railroad. Well, I cross live railroads all the time. Look both ways, what’s the big deal? When I get to the crossing, a train is already there. I don’t mind a short break, though it’s unfortunate that this spot has no shade. After a few minutes, the train passes, but another one is coming the other direction (apparently this is a pretty busy line). I’m sure I can make it, but I’ve also read enough survival stories to know that the vast majority of horrible tragedies are actually predictable consequences of bad decisions made by people who would have known better if they weren’t rushed, stressed, or sleep deprived. I’m all of those things right now, so I wait another ten minutes for the second train to pass.
It’s been another 30 miles and standing in the sun waiting for the train wasn’t particularly refreshing, so I take another short rest before heading back out. Andy rejoins me. We make decent time, but by the end of the leg I’m needing to sit down again. Normally, 85 miles is when my struggles are ending, not beginning, but I haven’t been pushing as hard as I would in a hundred so maybe it makes sense. The interesting thing is that I’m not tired physically, it’s more just a challenge to stay awake. Starting right after the drive up to Chicago might not have been my best call.
The next few legs are a bit of a fire drill as various crew members head off independently to eat, nap, and set up the camp for the night. It’s pretty obvious that I’m not going to make it to the camp myself, but it still makes sense for them to sleep there.
Mickey is pacing again and we hit a couple more phantom trails. At least we’re getting better at identifying them. Basically, the minute we’re in doubt, we check the Strava heat map. If it looks like nobody has ever used the trail, we conclude it doesn’t exist and immediately look for a re-route. We’re not adding much distance by doing this, but it is a bit of a psychological drain to know that at any point we might hit the obstacle that derails the entire effort. An hour before sundown we hit the worst offender: the track goes right through a 6-foot chain link fence that has obviously been there for decades. There’s no gate to be found. The idea that this route has ever been through-hiked is becoming increasingly preposterous.
As daylight fades, we get to Brezina Woods. At 105 miles in 26 hours, we’re about three hours behind my most optimistic schedule. Of course, that’s why it’s called most optimistic, so the only concern is whether to push on into the night or get some sleep. While technically closed after dark, I’m pretty sure I can sleep here with nobody noticing. There aren’t any other good places to sleep between here and our campsite, which is still 25 miles away. At my current pace, I won’t get there until close to sunrise, so stopping here seems the better option. The crew leaves me with some warmer clothes and food and heads off to the campground. I will text Jenny when I’m back underway; Mickey and Andy will sleep longer.
The park ranger takes a pass of the park road to chase everybody out. While I’m a hundred yards off the road, I have enough stuff with me to be conspicuous, so I lie down right at the edge of the woods. Pro tip: even through you may not want to turn on your headlamp in this situation, you really should check to see if you are lying down in poison ivy.
The crew did not leave me with the sleeping pad since I don’t really want to carry that for five miles to the next stop. I’m tired enough that falling asleep directly on the ground isn’t a problem though it does mean I’m mighty stiff when my alarm goes off at midnight. I take a few minutes getting my things together during which I notice the poison ivy. There’s a water spigot nearby and I rinse off as well as I can then head out walking.
Although the temps are only moderately chilly, I’m depleted enough to feel quite cold even with the additional clothing I have. I’m still too tight to really run, but switching to a walking-pace jog does help generate a bit of heat. After a mile or so, I’m moving better and feeling warmer.
And feeling sleepier. I’m not even halfway through the leg when I find the need to take a brief break to close my eyes for a few minutes. I take a Mt Dew from Jenny at the stop, but the same thing happens on the next leg. I start fine but can only go for around 20 minutes before feeling excessively sleepy. The route turns off city streets back onto trails. The peripheral shadows of the trees from my light throw my addled mind into a hallucinatory state. None of this is a new experience for me – I’ve been to the land of psychedelic fatigue many times before – but I had hoped the sleep break would mitigate it.
While the parking lots have been chained after dark, we haven’t had any problem in the forest preserves up to this point. Jenny texts me to indicate that’s about to change. Apparently, there’s a fairly significant police presence at Palos and we’re going to have to move our supply stops. She finds an alternate location just before entering the preserve. Our original spot was at the point I was going to enter the trail network. Two police cars are parked there, so I continue past on the road and then cut into the woods once out of sight. Jenny texts me to tell me there’s a cop at our next location as well, but it may not be a problem as the sun might come up before I get there.
Indeed it does and the daylight is refreshing. The trail network at Palos is dense, but I know this park pretty well from orienteering meets, so I don’t have any trouble staying on course. The last few miles are through very heavy vegetation along the Sag Canal. This section of trail doesn’t get much use and I’m obviously the first person through today which means, even using a stick to swat at them, I’m covered in spider webs by the time I reach the bridge that leaves the preserve.
The bridge presents its own problem as it is closed for construction. I can’t blame this one on the route designers; it’s just one of those things you deal with. Swimming the canal wouldn’t be completely out of the question but, fortunately, I’m able to find a gap in the barrier to get onto the bridge and out the other side where Mickey is waiting with refreshments.
Mickey joins me again and we promptly hit some more imaginary trail routing. We’re pretty much taking this in stride now and spending very little time considering re-routes. If these detours are going to cost us the FKT, they already have, so there’s no point in stressing over them. We pass the campsite a little before 9AM. That’s about six hours off my optimistic pace which translates to a middle of the night finish. That’s fine but leaves very little slack before I lose most of my crew (Andy and Mickey both have to be back in St. Louis by morning).
At the next stop, Andy takes over pacing and, after a mile of cheerful running on a well-marked trail, we hit the obstacle that breaks the attempt. Once again, it’s a phantom trail with no indication on Strava that anybody, ever, goes there. Worse, this is not an easy re-route. The trail through the grasslands constitutes 10 miles of the route. Sure, we could just randomly run the same distance on roads, but there is no way to even approximate the course without pushing headlong into the 7-foot high grass.
So, in we go. Our progress is terribly slow, 30-40 minute miles, but we are making progress. After an hour of that, we get to our next crew stop. We have another six and a half miles of grasslands to go and at this pace, we’re going to lose several more hours, which puts us in a serious bind with schedule. We decide to press on, but also text Jenny (who is resting up for the night crew shift) that the finish is in doubt.
Unlike the previous section, the trail here is “marked”. That is, there are little orange flags along the way. Unfortunately, it’s very hard to spot them in such tall grass and they don’t do anything to speed things up. At 3:40, we send the following text to Mickey and Jenny:
“Our bullshit quota has been reached. We’re busting our asses to make 30-min miles through these fields which have no trails. At this rate, we’d not be out of the fields until 6 with nearly 50 to go and who knows how many other things are wrong with this course. I can’t ask Jenny to crew through the night solo in South Chicago and if I take the night off, I’ll not be able to get a train back tomorrow. Thanks all for trying. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
The obvious lesson learned from all this is to vet the course if you are trying to establish an FKT. Just because a website says a course has been through-hiked, doesn’t mean it’s fit for an FKT. In particular, closer inspection of the track shows that the original hike (which was done in pieces) didn’t always pick up where it left off. The resulting GPS route just drew a straight line through whatever was in the way. No idea how they got through the grasslands, but I guess if that was the only thing you did for that day, it wouldn’t be so terrible. Making the course go through gated private property is just dumb.
But, there were other lessons as well. Most interesting to me is something I mentioned earlier but had to do myself to believe: things really don’t get harder after 80 or so miles. They don’t get easier, either, but you do settle into a rhythm where you can keep going seemingly indefinitely (this, of course, assumes that getting to 80 is well within your capabilities).
Physically, that is. Another lesson was just how sleepy you get doing this. Especially when you don’t have a pacer. On a subsequent attempt at a distance like this, I’d try to have enough pacers that I always had someone to talk to; it makes a huge difference.
I think this route is fixable, especially if done in late fall when the grass will be down. The folks at FKT think so, too, and have encouraged me to submit a revised course. To that end, I’ve included an appendix of the problem areas we found, our proposed solution, and a request for any Chicago-based folks to check out the section of the course that we didn’t get to. If we can get a new route checked and approved by Fall 2023, I’d like to give this another try.
Meanwhile, I’ll just content myself with the knowledge that we did give it a legit shot and 148 is a mileage PR, even if short of the goal.
Now, about that song. I really do like it. The problem is, being Chicago blues and all, it’s scored with very prominent parts for trumpet and sax. This made a lot of sense a year ago when my trumpet/sax player, Ollie, was still living at home. With him now at music school in Memphis, that leaves me with either recording those parts (badly) myself or waiting for him to come home. As with the route, I think this one is worth getting right so it’s going to sit on the unfinished business shelf along with the FKT for a while longer. More to follow.
Appendix: Course revisions and vetting.
The original course we attempted to run is a transcription from that hosted by The Hiking Project
I transcribed it rather than using it directly because Strava freaked out in a few places where the waypoints were too far apart (or, as it turned out, not connected by reality). I also put in our planned re-routes and moved the start. The transcription can be found here.
I’ve updated the routes with a combination of what we actually did and what, in retrospect, was probably the best option for each re-route. I would go with that up to the point where we bailed in the grasslands. I still don’t have a good solution there – I’ll see if it’s less obnoxious in the late fall. The remaining 50 miles are unchecked so, if anybody has some intel on that or wants to do some reconnaissance, please let me know. The path as currently proposed is here.
Note that the proposed course still uses the bike path through the Botanic Gardens. The appropriate alternative if one gets there when the gates are locked is to take Dundee west to the Green Bay trailhead. It’s the same distance and swaps paved bike path for road, so pretty much a wash in the context of a 200-mile FKT. Of course, if doing the course clockwise, you’d want to figure this out in advance as going to the north gate and then all the way back to the Green Bay Trail would add a couple miles.
The other re-routes in the first 150 miles don’t require much explanation. I took out the Lily pond altogether, but did put the route back through Grant Park just because it’s so iconic. Try to avoid Lalapalooza weekend (and the Chicago Marathon, which is the only other time I know of when it gets completely closed).
The grasslands is the big question mark. I don’t know what time of year one can get through there at a reasonable pace and, even if conditions are good, there’s nothing marking the course. Yes, you can follow the GPS track, but that’s pretty antithetical to the whole idea of trail running. There should be a trail. At the very least, if there’s no trail, it should be: “just get to this point by whatever route you want” rather than having to follow a track that doesn’t exist on the ground. I’m open to suggestions on this one. We could just skip the whole nonsense and go around on the road, but I’m hoping there’s a better option. One possibility that looks promising is here.
Finally, I have no idea what lurks in the last 50 miles. In particular, there are some side trails along the lake that may or may not be open off hours. My inclination is just to simplify the route by staying on the Lakefront Trail but, again, I’m open to suggestion. If I take all the little side jaunts out, the mileage will come in under 200. That’s not a problem from the standpoint of an FKT, but going over the double century does give the route a bit more cachet. One easy way to add distance would be to go around the perimeter of Navy Pier. I don’t know if that’s open 24/7, though.
A final consideration is start point and direction. I still like the idea of starting downtown, but it would certainly be logistically easier for anyone not already in the city to start/finish on the west side. My current thought is staying at Camp Sullivan the night before and then leaving counter-clockwise just before sunrise. Sure, you still might have to go through Palos in the dark, but you would be all but guaranteed to get through South Chicago during the day. Starting from camp has the added benefit of starting right after waking rather than already being up for 10-12 hours at mile zero. What’s not obvious is where the crew would sleep on the east side of the course. Downtown would be ridiculously expensive, but a hotel north of that might be a reasonable option.
