Frozen Otter 2017

We're extremely proud of Windy City members, Ross and Mary, who faced one of the toughest races in the Midwest (perhaps in the country), The Frozen Otter Ultra Trek. Participants traverse 64 miles of Wisconsin's hilly terrain left in the wake of the great Wisconsin Glacier. As if the sheer feat of conquering the mileage isn't enough, racers must do it without outside support, on trail, in the dead of winter, in under 24 hours.

Mary made it to mile 32, and Ross finished the course. Join Ross as he recalls his experience...

Ross: Start time of 1000, spent the night in the suburbs and drove up morning of. Once I arrived around 0800, I reported to gear check-in, where I had the opportunity to take my carefully packed backpack and dump it out on a picnic table so that I could have my gear inspected. The volunteer checking my gear told me he was a Frozen Otter finisher from a few years ago as well as a firefighter in Middleton, Wisconsin and that he was in charge of the search and rescue team for the race. His instructions were, “If you think your going to go down, text me with a screenshot of your location and I will come get you.” Okay. Interesting start. Don’t think they have search and rescue elements for the Ironman.

Once I had my gear checked, I hung out and talked with a few people while waiting for the mandatory athlete briefing at 0915. While I was waiting I saw a guy wearing a Chicago Blackhawks hat so I asked him if he was from Chicago and what his background was. He informed me that he was from Chicago and that was an “accomplished ultra marathoner who had run many ultras.” I asked him what he was hoping to do for a time and he told me “sub 14:30.” In my head I was thinking that the course record was 13:35 and that seemed like a pretty ambitious goal, but who knows. His name was JP…this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see him.

The gun went off at 1000, the start line was pretty unusual, basically just a bunch of people milling around, a few spectators and volunteers but otherwise mostly athletes. I noticed a wide variety of gear. Some people were wearing hiking boots and snow pants; others had huge packs that looked as though they were going to be climbing Everest. Everyone looked to be relatively fit, and I noticed many were wearing yak-trax on their shoes, which I wasn’t and I was starting to wonder if I’d dropped the ball in the gear department.

“Right off the bat I was thinking that weather-wise we were going to be in pretty good shape, starting temperatures around 15 degrees, no wind and clear skies. I knew that the forecast was calling for temperatures to drop to around zero at night...”

I started the race by getting ahead of the group, I correctly assumed that the group of 115 athletes who started would quickly form a bottleneck on the trail, and luckily I managed to sneak ahead of all but a couple and didn’t get bogged down in that. Right off the bat I was thinking that weather-wise we were going to be in pretty good shape, starting temperatures around 15 degrees, no wind and clear skies. I knew that the forecast was calling for temperatures to drop to around zero at night but I wasn’t getting caught up in that thought process just yet.

The group of runners quickly spread out, and I found myself running with a guy named Dan. The Ice Age trail is not wide enough for runners to run side by side so Dan and I talked as he ran behind me. My initial race strategy was to run the flats and down hills and walk the up hills. Dan seemed perfectly happy with the pace. I was immediately surprised with how hilly the course was and how rough the trail itself was. It felt as though we were constantly running up and down ravines and the trail itself had 4-6” of snow that was packed down and hiding countless rocks and tree roots. I’m pretty sure I rolled my ankles 500 times over the course of the day.

Dan and I came into the first checkpoint and announced our arrival to a volunteer who asked if we were staying or “in and out?” I was feeling strong so I responded with “in and out,” and continued on. Dan picked up the pace and left me behind and I ran alone for the majority of the day after that. The next 8 miles were constant hills, I had hoped to run 10-minute miles for the majority of the daylight hours and get to mile 42 by dark. I quickly realized that would be impossible based on the terrain so I reassessed my goals and decided to try to keep my pace to sub 15-minute miles. Checkpoint 2, I consciously realized I wasn’t taking in enough calories but I was still feeling strong. I decided to take a few minutes at the checkpoint and refill my bottles and get some calories. I managed to eat a Power2max bar during the first 8 miles but hadn’t eaten since. I had some cheese wrapped in prosciutto as well as a brownie and hot chocolate at the aid station.

“Temperature wise I was feeling pretty good, but was starting to lose feeling in my fingers...”

Checkpoint 3—mile 24. This is what they refer to as “the top of the map turn.” I checked in, ate some ramen and hot chocolate and started on my way back to Mauthe Lake, which represented checkpoint 5, and the end of the first out and back. As I headed back, and started passing some racers, one of them told me, “Hey keep it up. You’re in 5th place!” I was surprised to hear I was doing that well as I felt like I was hardly moving but that provided some much needed motivation to get my pace up. Mile 32, more ramen, more hot chocolate. Still not taking in enough calories but no appetite so I figured I’d just keep moving. Temperature wise I was feeling pretty good, but was starting to lose feeling in my fingers so decided to put some hand warmers in my gloves. At that point, I hadn’t seen anyone other than the aid station volunteers in several hours so I decided to make a few phone calls. I called Kate, Julian and Jim and was a good boost to talk to them instead of just talking to myself.

Checkpoint 4—Mile 40. Started getting cold and headlamp is on. As I came into the aid station, I saw a runner sitting by the fire wrapped in a blanket with tears in his eyes. I grabbed some more ramen and took a closer look and see a familiar Chicago Blackhawks hat. It was none other than the less-than-humble guy I ran into earlier who said he was going to run sub 14:30. Needless to say, he wasn’t moving anytime soon. He would end up dropping.

“It was no accident that Checkpoint 5 had more people drop than at any other point in the race. At this aid station, you could sit by the fire, eat more ramen and you could actually see your vehicle. I could easily see how a person would decide to throw in the towel at that point. Coming up to the aid station, I was starting to have all the familiar dark place thoughts that tend to creep in late in a race...”

Checkpoint 5—Mile 46. Started to get into a dark place, it was after 10pm, temperatures were dropping and the sun had been down for 5 hours. Mauthe Lake was not only home to Checkpoint 5, but was also approximately 100 yards from where the athletes parked in the morning. It was no accident that Checkpoint 5 had more people drop than at any other point in the race. At this aid station, you could sit by the fire, eat more ramen and you could actually see your vehicle. I could easily see how a person would decide to throw in the towel at that point. Coming up to the aid station, I was starting to have all the familiar dark place thoughts that tend to creep in late in a race... “eh, 46 miles isn’t bad. No shame in calling it now.” “Well, if you call it now just say your knee was bothering you.” “If I quit up here, I could be home and in bed by 1 am.” As I came into Checkpoint 5, the volunteer asked me, “Are you calling it or going back out?” I replied weakly, “I think I’m gonna head back out.” I had been doing the math in my head for the past hour and figured that once I left Checkpoint 5, I was looking at at least 6 more hours on the course. This was not an inspiring thought. The second out and back which heads south out of Mauthe Lake is an isolated section of the course and the volunteers told me if I were to go back out I would be the 5th racer to head out. I thought to myself... “Okay, this is where we separate the men from the boys.” I realized at this point that the race hadn’t even started. This was the beginning.

After downing 2 cups of ramen, I decided I better bundle up for the long trek out. I added my Eddie Bauer down jacket; second hat and switched gloves for mittens as well as a fresh set of hand warmers and checked out of Checkpoint 5. The walk south was as hilly or worse than the first section of the course. I was instantly thankful for the decision to add the trekking poles to my gear list, as these made a huge difference when going up and downhill.

“About 2 miles later, mile 56, I realized I was in trouble. I had started shivering and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. I tried to talk to a racer who passed me, and although my thoughts were clear, I couldn’t say the words I was thinking…’”

I finally arrived at Checkpoint 6—mile 54. More ramen and apple cider this time. I started to think the hay was in the barn. As I hurried out, I realized I was going to finish. The trail had some other ideas. About 2 miles later, mile 56, I realized I was in trouble. I had started shivering and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. I tried to talk to a racer who passed me, and although my thoughts were clear, I couldn’t say the words I was thinking. I instantly thought to myself… “Oh just a little aphasia. Probably just the cold, or maybe I’m having a stroke…”

Mile 61, I couldn’t believe how long it was taking, I felt like I was moving at a snail’s pace and looking at my Garmin, I wasn’t far off. Didn’t feel like I was going that slow but struggled to walk 20-minute miles. I came to a fork in the road. The Ice Age trail was marked with yellow placards periodically, but it was very difficult to see where the trail went when it intersected with snowmobile trails, which were unmarked. I started to walk down the trail, and 5 minutes later I realized I hadn’t seen any of the familiar yellow placards. I also started to think that for some reason this section of trail was significantly wider than the rest of the trail had been. This was the first time where I started to think... “Okay this could be really bad.” There wasn’t any athlete tracking for the Frozen Otter, you’re responsible for checking in and checking out of each checkpoint/aid station. But other than that, the volunteers and race staff had no idea where you were.

“...if I didn’t figure out where I was, and promptly unfuck myself, I was going to be in a world of hurt. Not only was I going to freeze to death, I probably wouldn’t be found for a few days...”

I decided to backtrack, all the while thinking to myself that if I didn’t figure out where I was, and promptly unfuck myself, I was going to be in a world of hurt. Not only was I going to freeze to death, I probably wouldn’t be found for a few days. Not a great scenario.

I managed to make my way back to the fork, and based on the amount of footprints, went down the other side where a few hundred yards later saw the yellow placard. Quite the relief!

My walk continued. Mile 62, 63 seemed to take forever. Finally, I saw an orange streetlight, which, somewhere in my foggy memory, I remembered seeing earlier at Checkpoint 4. At that point, the shivering and teeth chattering were approaching a dangerous level. As I made my way towards the light I kept saying out loud, “This has to be it, this has to be it…”

I came out of the woods and sure enough, next to the light was a bonfire and the firefighter who I talked to at gear check that morning. I yelled, “Hey! Is this the finish?” “Yea, is that Chapman?” he responded. I said, “Yeah, lucky 13 (my bib number) is in.” He handed me my Frozen Few dog tags, gave me a bear hug and instructed me to walk a quarter mile (are you kidding me, I have to walk more now?!) down to the shelter to get some food.

I walked in, sat by the fire and had a hamburger. It was 5am and I had been on the course nearly 19 hours. After inhaling my “breakfast,” I went to the truck, sat down and turned the heat on full blast. I was still shivering uncontrollably, to the point where I couldn’t physically plug my phone into the car charger.

2.5 hours later, I finally made it home after struggling to stay awake on the drive. Sore ankles, sore knees. chafing in my places I didn’t realize I could chafe. But all in all success.

64 miles in 24 hours.

26 finishers out of 115 racers who started

7th place overall.

Frozen Few 2017.