Earlier this year, Andrea Larson became the first ever female finisher of the Marji Gesick 200 which only takes place every 5 years. She had previously completed the MG-100, running it on foot in 2019. Hear her story, in 2 parts, of planning and completing this grueling race.
Words by Andrea Larson
I had only talked to one person ever in the MG200 bike, so when we funneled into the West End Ski & Trail bike shop beforehand, I sat nervously by myself for what seemed like an eternity. As others chatted with friends recounting past experiences, I had imposter syndrome. This event wasn’t open to anyone, you needed to provide a resume before you were granted registration. I had only competed in one other bike race in my life, a local lapped event that I dress rehearsed many times with about half the course weaving on ski trails to allow for passing lanes, so just a tad different than what I was able to face head on. But with 60 bikers, surely I could keep up with someone?
At 7:59 am, we were informed that as soon as they opened the door we were on the clock. So although it wasn’t an official Le Mans start, a few people had to run to their car as none of us expected to be holed up in the bike shop for so long. I had already pulled up the route on my Garmin, so all I had to do was find my bike and go. Although I hadn’t noted where I ditched my bike with my crew, where’s Waldo” was very brief and I found myself one of the first people to depart. (In hindsight, this ended up being right where I belonged, not in the back where I intended to line up.) I started slow to allow the field to fly by me, but I was surprised at the lack of chaos, even for the out-and-back up Jasper Knob, just a mile into the race. I pre-meditated being last, hike-a-biking to the top while others flew down the hill, but I was in the majority! I stopped to give the woman that hooked her handlebar on the fence during the descent back something that flew off her bike, a small thank you for committing the error I most likely would have.
Surviving the Early Miles
As we hit the trails, racers didn’t seem at all jockeying for position. I found myself in the mix and tried to hang with others. After nearly 1.5 hours into the race, we popped out to Cliff Drive for the first time and I knew I needed to eat before I dug myself into a calorie deficit. Unfortunately, I slowed just enough to lose the pack and instantly discovered I would not catch anyone once I lost sight. This was only compounded since now I needed to slow at every unmarked intersection to ensure I didn’t make a wrong turn. I quickly became paranoid that I had inadvertently cut off a section of the course and would be DQ’d, especially with the frequent chirping of my Garmin indicating I was “off course”. How could I possibly not see another rider with all the switchbacks unless I jumped ahead on the course?
I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered Jackson Park and my mileage matched up. Now I could celebrate being 45 minutes under my time estimate. I also had confidence after navigating a portion of the course I was least familiar with on my own I’d be fine the rest of the race. I saw my crew for the first time and stopped only long enough to down some canned soup, replace my bottlesPart 1 and grab some more food. As I prepared to depart after my brief stop, a pack of riders departing was in sight. Then it got better, a spectator informed me I was 21st. I was elated. The race was unfolding better than I could have imagined.
I was able to make contact quickly with the pack where I happily sat in the back. I hoped I’d be able to stick with the pack up Cheese Grater and found I my pace was compatible with the group. I witnessed my biggest crash of the race, the leader of our pack falling and losing a shoe…uphill…while hike-a-biking Sissy Pants. Only in Marji!
Losing the Pack
We were blazing compared to my scouting times. I found myself moving up in the pack as the first rider or two would occasionally bobble a turn on the unmarked course. I felt out of place when I found myself in the front as we made the climb up Deer Shit, then a photographer popped out of nowhere to capture the moment. I figured I’d slow the entire paceline down as I fumbled. I felt anxiety as I tried to quickly dismount to hike-a-bike the punchy climb, sneaking peaks behind me to make sure riders weren’t ready to storm past. I knew the descent was super technical so I offered a pass multiple times to the rider behind me but he said he didn’t need to since he wasn’t a strong descender either. When I finally got a good look behind me, I couldn’t believe what I saw – there was just the two of us. I managed to get down the hill unscathed and rolled through Ispheming wondering how I possibly gapped the other riders. Surely, they must have had a calamity such as a massive pileup following a wrong turn. Soon after, my lone companion abandoned me (read the full story in Part 1).
Knowing I was in a solid position (15th place) and feeling strong, I felt the cloud of tension lift. With having to navigate the course solo, I figured the pack would swallow me up going up Last Bluff, but they never came, further bolstering my confidence. I relaxed and I rolled my own pace all the way to Jackson Park.
I cranked through the mindless miles on the Iron Ore Heritage Trail which seemed so monotonous that I opted to hike-a-bike any ascent on the subsequent snowmobile trail (I was on my bike for a whopping ½ hour and needed a stretch)! Someone jogging down the trail mentioned something about something in the middle of the trail but I didn’t catch the details. I didn’t recall any hazards during my preride. After awhile I figured I missed the hazard, only to come across a rider lying in the middle of the trail with another rider waiting with him. They said they didn’t need anything and as I passed I realized this was what I was warned of. Of all the trails at Marji to break a collarbone, this snowmobile trail was at the bottom of the list. Speaking of lists, I figured my own medical or mechanical would likely end my day, but I never considered having to assist with someone else’s…the ways your day at Marji could end with #quitter just got longer.
Drenched
I was surprised how dark the woods had become. I knew days were getting short, but night couldn’t be approaching yet. My watch read 3:30 pm so that meant the spotty showers were coming after all. Figures since I remembered for the first time in the race to put on sunscreen as I left Jackson Park AND was charging my Garmin and phone for the first time. But at least I forgot my sunglasses (again) which would now be a liability. As soon as the first drops fell moments before connecting to the South Marquette singletrack, I pulled over to pull the cords and put my phone in a Ziplock knowing I could be sopping wet quickly. And I was. Ironically, I had a conversation with my crew that for this event I wouldn’t need to worry about wet feet (in ultra marathons wet feet often wreak havoc). Wrong.
I wondered what the soil type was since the water was pooling on the singletrack and it felt like I was winding down a waterslide. How long would it take to drain? I almost stopped to take a photo of the river I was riding through since it was crazy. My feet were quickly soaked from the constant water spray off my wheels as I spun through the Pioneer Loop. Turns out neither Negaunee nor Forestville received a drop of rain. Despite skimming across constant puddles, I felt like I was maintaining a solid pace. I was glad to be climbing up Pipe Dreams rather than descending off the slick pipe for a nightmare. Off Grade was off-putting as I was especially cautious my first time ever descending the trail with potentially slippery rocks and wet brakes. I survived the descent and welcomed the stranger that offered to clean my chain at Marquette Mountain (thank you!) while I swapped bottles. I didn’t have much to restock for food since I was now several hours ahead of my time estimate.
I hadn’t scouted Easy Ride since it required a downhill trail pass, so it was nice to scout on the uphill in preparation for the descent the next day. I was grateful that while scouting we were forced to turn around and ride down Zueg’s. Now I knew exactly were the technical ledges were and even enjoyed the final switchbacks before crossing the Carp River (as well the subsequent climb up Baby Blue). I descended keeping in mind that I needed to be alert for runners and I was surprised that I hadn’t met a single runner. During my 2019 MG100 run, I had met the first 200 mile rider at South Marquette Trailhead and continued to meet riders on the other side of South McClellan Avenue. I finally began meeting runners, and I gave every single one encouragement since I had been in their shoes five years ago.
Thanks to my crew Candy for doing all the thankless tasks behind the scenes!
I couldn’t believe the time discrepancy of the climb up Scary Trail versus the descent on Mount Marquette Road. Despite my cautious descent, it took maybe two minutes after climbing for eons. To no surprise, Gurly was also much easier descending mid-race than ascending during my first scouting ride. I looked forward to getting out of my wet grit-laden clothes as soon as the trails drained, so I took the opportunity of a full wardrobe change in the outhouse at South Marquette Trailhead. I figured the mud had packed into my cleats, causing issues clipping in. Luckily the next stretch didn’t have as much hike-a-bike, so I instructed my crew to clean my cleats and have my shoes dry at Lowes. When asked how they should accomplish it, I gave them the creative liberty to figure it out. Crews do a ton of thankless things on race day and blow drying someone’s stinky, muddy shoes is just another task on that long list.
Going with the flow
After several (almost too easy) miles of fast & flowy singletrack, I was back to reality on the doubletrack north of Hwy 41. Since the trail uses private property, we can’t scout this trail. What appeared on paper to be “easy” turned out to be energy-sucking. As I had done earlier on the snowmobile trail between Negaunee and South Marquette, I took what the trail gave me when I hit the sandy portions. Rather than expending extra energy spinning through the sand, I kept a methodical pace until I couldn’t and then dismounted for the thousandth time for yet another hike-a-bike. I couldn’t believe I was still meeting runners all the way to here.
Lowes Trail was such a treat since there were essentially trail markers in the backwards direction. Since no trail markers were allowed on trees, I could easily spot trail markers on stakes intended for the forward direction. The final 100 miles would be so luxurious with trail markers!
After passing the first riders I’ve seen since mile 27, I was thrilled to connect with a small pack of riders after a brief stop. I was nearly hypnotized on Silver Lead as we constantly wove back and forth on the downhill like an amusement park ride. I struggled to maintain the downhill pace. With a slight bobble, I had not only lost contact with the pack, but I couldn’t even see a headlamp. I couldn’t believe it; I hadn’t even tapped down…how could they be gone that quick? Now with hesitating at intersections, especially since I hadn’t ridden this trail in the dark nor in this direction, there was no hope I’d catch them. Company was short-lived, and I continued on my solitude journey into the darkness as I circumnavigated the reservoir.
Lost in the woods
I had deemed Pine Knob unrideable for my skill level and planned to not even attempt to ride the trail. As expected, the route finding in the dark also was a factor and I’m incredibly thankful for my Garmin. Despite all the nuisance “off route” alarms, this was the one time I was truly off route. In the darkness, I had somehow circled back on myself and had begun backtracking! This would have been demoralizing since I was almost done with the nearly mile hike-a-bike and I would have most certainly not realized my error until reaching the trail intersection, resulting in almost three miles of continuous hike-a-bike! Thankfully, disaster averted.
For the first time since the opening section, I became out-of-touch with where I was and suddenly found myself at Forestville Trailhead. The plan to place a slow moving vehicle sign (which I almost ditched at home) near the trail worked marvelously to find my crew in the dark. I’d be meeting every single out-and-back rider on this section. Once again, I cheered each rider on. I was surprised that nearly every rider was solo ahead of me. Perhaps I wasn’t riding at a disadvantage as a Lone Ranger after all. Despite being confident in my navigation on this section, I had enough hesitation at intersections that I couldn’t wait to have trail marking for the rest of the way! I was also thankful that I was well enough ahead of cutoff that I wouldn’t end up being forced to wait on the climb up Beagle Club Road as hundreds of 100 milers flew down.
Around and Around
The old railway line near Harlow Lake seemed much easier in this direction than the forward direction and the climb up Beagle Club Road was very manageable. However, lugging up my bike to the Top of the World was not…especially when I lost the trail, got cliffed out, and had to carry my bike down the boulders I had just struggled hoisting my bike up. All so fitting for Marji.
I arrived at the halfway point at the Forestville Trailhead ready to tackle the forward direction…with trail markings! I managed to not puncture a tire on the old railroad spikes protruding on old railway line. I did however manage my second hardest fall as I jumped on the trail. The highlight of my second lap around Harlow Lake was meeting Jenny Acker and Jill Martindale still on pace to finish.
Soon after leaving Forestville, I kicked myself for accidentally beginning my Pine Knob hike-a-bike too early. I accidentally hike-a-biked Mildcat, no wonder it looked rideable! The prelude resulted in extending my continuous hike-a-bike to almost 1 ½ miles.
Day 2
I progressed to Lowes Trail and couldn’t believe I was hearing heavy metal before daylight for the 100 mile racers. As I neared the South Marquette trailhead I was hoping the 50 mile riders wouldn’t be riding up Flow as I was trying to descend. I had glimpsed a Marji 2-way trail sign there on the way out and fretted this was part of the 50 mile course. I’d be the only SOL that would need to negotiate past a conga line. I kept checking my watch and trying to figure out where I might meet them. What time did they start? How many miles of road did they have before connecting to the trails? And where did they jump onto the 100 mile course? After fretting for hours, I was relieved to make it down Flow without seeing a single person. I didn’t pre-ride Flow since it was a last minute addition to the 2024 course and boy, its name was a paradox.
As I ascended Gurly, I could see the 50 mile riders flying down Mount Marquette Road. I was thinking my crossing to Doctor Trail may get dicey but I got the perfect break in riders and my crossing was uneventful. My climb up Mount Marquette Road took a bit (*heavy sacarsm*) longer than my earlier stint down. After descending Scary Trail, the first sign for a token was at (of course) an opportune place to lose momentum. The first of several empty jack-o’-lanterns, I imagined the smirk on Todd’s face and continued on to Marquette Mountain.
Issues
My cleats were becoming very problematic to clip in. I figured out that if I went very pigeon-toed, I could get them in slightly easier. So when I met up with my crew, I asked to have them inspected. Although a missing screw explained why one shoe was problematic, why was the other shoe equally bad? Turns out I unclipped so often, that I wore out the brand new cleats I broke in just in time for the race. The climb up Off Grade was far less stressful than the descent in the opposite direction. I enjoyed the dry trails as I buzzed on the Pioneer Loop which were now completely dry before connecting with the snowmobile trail. I caught up to the first runner near the Wurst Aid Station.
The Iron Ore Heritage Trail buzzed by this time since I had to call my crew to figure out a game plan since she was crewing her husband in the 100 and shuttling another rider’s car. I didn’t bother stopping in Jackson Park and began catching 50 mile riders. The frequency was so often that I soon realized the energy expenditure to offer encouragement was beyond my reserves. Although every rider offered me encouragement, I was now mute. I couldn’t believe when a rider passed me. I was in denial that with my 35 mile head start I had already been caught by 100 milers. Luckily with that big of a speed disparity it took a blink for the rider to pass me.
I was assessing and I had less than the ideal amount of fluid, electrolytes, and fuel. I worried that if I misjudged the time to meet my crew I might start digging myself into a hole. I rationed, but determined I’d stop at the next road crossing if anyone was willing to give me fluids just in case I had misunderstood where my crew was waiting for me. When I heard a chainsaw revving, it took a bit to place myself on the course since the heat was getting to me. Was the heat getting to me? Or my sleep deprivation, electrolyte depletion, calorie deficit, or simply overexertion? I didn’t know, but all I could do was manage each of these elements the best I could so nothing got out of control. I finally realized I was at Stoned Hinge and I needed to hike-a-bike the descent. Even if I was good enough to ride down it, the crazy turn at the bottom through the rocks has to be impossible for any rider to negotiate, right? My crew was exactly where I expected her and I got everything replenished. With all the makeshift aid stations set up at road crossings, I found that shouting “Candy, Candy” as I did earlier in the race misled generous spectators to think I wanted to consume candy. I was so far gone that it never occurred to me after it happened the first time to shout “Candance”! so I had a reoccurance at my next pit stop.
The remaining miles to Jackson Park was a borderline death march. I realized I hadn’t peed in several hours and I wouldn’t be able to make it to Jackson Park. With riders crawling over the course like ants, I had to figure out how to go without offending anyone. I devised I’d wait until there was a decent gap and then get really close to catching the next person and then stop. On my first attempt the rider heard me coming and was all too eager to let me pass so I had to wait for another opportunity. When the opportunity came, my bladder was quite full so it seemed like I’d never finish in time, but I managed to squeeze it all out before anybody rounded the corner, whew.
With the mercury topping out near record highs, I was dreaming of ice at Jackson Park. I could tell I was on the edge. Plus my cleats were nearly impossible to clip in. More often than not, my feet were sitting atop the eggbeater pedals as I tried to get up the punchy hills and I’d finally get clipped in just in time to unclip. I rolled into Jackson Park which was an absolute zoo. I struggled to find my crew and when I did it was pretty hectic. I couldn’t go any longer in these cleats and waited for my crew to run back to the car to get my backup shoes (again). Ironically, I had ruled out these shoes for the home stretch with expecting to be worn out and hike-a-biking a ton. I didn’t care if I’d be tapdancing on rocks, I was so relieved to have shoes I could instantly clip in! I was so thankful two strangers offered me unlimited ice when they overheard my request. I had plenty of experience on my FKTs to know that I had survived the heat of the day and that it would be cooling off now. I had just one leg left. As I left Jackson Park I was quite queasy and was burping profusely. Luckily, the first mile of singletrack was flowy downhill (at least by Marji standards) and it got me feeling pretty zippy and hopeful there was still a chance I could finish before dark. I had a couple women riders give me quite the cheers as I passed them on a switchback. I felt like I was letting them down since I was running on fumes and couldn’t even acknowledge them.
Home Stretch
By the time I hit the halfway point of this section at Lake Minnie, it was clear I’d be needing my lighting. I was in awe of the women that began passing me, the first women to do so since I had begun 36 hours earlier. I decided to ride a feature that was very doable during my scouting trip, but in my state, I drifted too far to the right and miraculously survived as visions of me flipping over my handlebars rattled between my ears. I was inching ever so close but as the darkness fell I got more risk adverse. I finally made it to a feature that I had predetermined I’d hike-a-bike (and further cemented after my near crash moments before) despite riding it during my scouting ride. After passing this feature, I finally allowed myself to believe I’d be finishing. Even with a major mechanical, I would be able to carry my defunct bike to the finish. Moments later I had both wheels locked up as I began skidding down a hill, narrowly missing a tree. Correction, I would not be finishing if I’d need a hospital ride. Surely I was home free now. Wrong, as Déjà vu occurred and I was once again skidding uncontrollably down the next hill hoping I would not hit a person or tree. The stress radiating through my body wasn’t worth the risk, but all that mattered was I was still upright. Just one more climb up Jasper Knob where a pile of Dum-Dums awaited us knuckleheads. I picked up the pace to finish strong and I’m glad I did since I unknowingly snuck in just under 37 hours.
I presented my tokens to Todd who promised me a $2 bill at a later date. I razzed him that he didn’t have one for me since he didn’t think I’d finish. He simply told me, “I never doubted you’d finish.” I thanked him for allowing me to enter the race despite my lack of biking credentials. After 37 hours of complete presence metering my effort: managing my nutrition & hydration, spotting trail markers (or following my Garmin when there was none), and identifying my line, I soon found myself in a daze as my mind & body shut down after completing the goal of reaching the finish line.
In the end, my finish time was 8.8% off a buckle. This year’s top 100 mile female rider was 7.9% off a buckle with the next female 9.8% off a buckle. So my result wasn’t too shabby considering most of my summer riding was with my 6 year old son! Over the 37 hours on course, my moving time was 35 1/2 hours. So I’ll don’t have a ton of stoppage time to trim other than my full wardrobe change after getting soaked the first afternoon. I hemorrhaged some time due to worn out cleats, but I am extremely thankful I didn’t have any bike mechanicals. Shaving off three hours is within reach. So with some real training, I’d love to be back in 2029 with confidence at the start line, chasing a buckle!
