I grew up in a small rural town of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, Ishpeming, an Ojibwe term for “heaven” or “way up there in the sky”. The town and surrounding areas are rich in mining history. In fact, Ishpeming only exists because vast deposits of iron ore were discovered in the area in the 1800’s. Local prospectors, guided by an Ojibwe man named Marji Gesick, were led to a mountain of ore that is known to this day as Jasper Knob. Upon this discovery, the town grew and thrived on mining. To this day, iron ore mines still operate and ore from this region is shipped through the Great Lakes on large freighters to processing plants in other states. I am a product of a family of miners and also have experience working at an iron ore mine. During the summer of 2000 I drove a 170- ton dump truck (yep, it was bigger than my house) hauling endless loads of ore.

You are probably wondering why the heck you’re reading about iron ore mining on the AK Cycle Chic page….well, let me introduce you to the Marji Gesick 100/50/25 endurance race, coined the “hardest single day mountain bike race in America”. A race honoring the history of the region, challenging all who attempt it to find their limits and destroy them.

The Marji wasn’t really on my radar until a couple years ago when I saw a facebook post from a high school friend who had just completed the race. I did some google searching on the Marji and came to the conclusion that this friend is certifiably crazy! Who does a race that had a DNF rate of 70% in 2017? Turns out a lot people….and here’s the thing with the Marji: once you start reading about the race and delving into people’s written experiences, you can’t stop thinking about it. Next thing you know, you talk yourself into registering for it.

I am by no means a “serious” mountain biker, let alone an endurance athlete. I started out fat tire biking in 2012 and did a few races like the Little Su and Frosty Bottom, I often would bike out to Knik and Spencer glaciers and did other adventurous winter riding. Come summer, I would ride my fat bike on the local trails and just enjoyed being on my bike. I eventually got involved with the Chugach Mountain Bike Riders (a local non-profit building trails in Mirror Lake, AK) and started riding more in the summer. For me, biking has always been about getting outside and soaking in the natural world around me and it turns out I was “ok” at it, too.

I don’t recall what quite shifted in my sanity, but one September afternoon I happened to catch registration for the 2022 Marji was opening on 9/15/21. Holy shit, that’s tomorrow! Should I do it? Can I do it? By now you’ve perhaps interrupted reading this post to google the Marji. If you have, then you’ve quickly found out that the first obstacle of this race is registering and getting a spot. 666 spots sell-out in less than 5 minutes. Registration day I sat at my work desk listening to my shoulder “angel” telling me I can DO the Marji argue with my shoulder “demon” telling me there’s no way in hell I can do the Marji. I brushed off the demon and told myself, “Self, you are capable of doing hard shit, let’s do this”. Pretty sure I hit my web browser refresh button about 10,000 times 5 minutes before registration opened and it worked. I did it. I got it into the 50 mile race! Oh f*%! what did I just do???

I won’t bore you with the details of the next year of Marji “training”. Let’s face reality, I wasn’t an endurance athlete, just a mom of two five year olds trying to find the time to just ride my bike on top of a full-time job and well, life. Days turned into months and the next thing I know it’s July, two months before the Marji. I procrastinated buying a plane ticket “home”, often listening to that damn demon on my shoulder. I even contemplated many times selling my spot. But one day while surfing the Marji facebook world, my shoulder angel appeared in the form of Todd Poquette, one of the Marji race founders/directors. His post went something like this: “so what if nothing went to plan - just show up and get ‘er done or give ‘er your best shot. That is what Marji is all about. FINISH WHAT YOU START”. Good riddance shoulder demon! I’m doing this race, I’m going to finish what I started.

Flash forward to 9/16/22, the day before the race and bib pick-up. Shit was getting real. The #Quitter phone number on the race bib seemed to be staring back at me, laughing in my face. I just kept telling myself I can do this, it’ll just be a fun day of riding my bike. Haha. I’ll break the 50 mile race down to three, 20 mile segments. That’s right. If you did the math just now, you determined this race was indeed not 50 miles, but more like 60 miles. We found this tid-bit of information out a few days before the race when they released the GPS file. That’s what the Marji is about, pushing your limits, finding them, and hopefully destroying them. So what’s another 10 miles after you’ve already done 50? Race morning was beautifully calm, kind of rare for the shores of Lake Superior. My dad got me to the start line just in time to hear “Master of Puppets” by Metallica echo through downtown. I line up towards the back of the 50 milers and pray to the powers that be that I just finish.

3, 2, 1 and we are off down the street! For me, the first 20 miles were pretty good. I made it up the first big climb, Mt. Marquette road, and had fun on the flowy Noquamenon single track. I did some bike pushing, but was able to ride most of it. I biked past old landmarks of my youth, remnants of iron mining, and I was actually enjoying the ride. I rolled into the first check-point at Jackson Park feeling pretty good, despite the almost 80 degree temperature and suffocating humidity. I fueled up, refilled my water and set out on the next 20 miles. The next 20 miles were brutally, soul crushingly hard. It was A LOT of technical riding, roots and rocks everywhere, short, steep ascents/descents…there was even a set of old concrete stairs one with the skills could ride down. Pretty sure I cried a few times and I had talked myself into quitting once I reached the Jackson Park check-point again. 40 miles, that’s honorable. I can live with that. I still had probably 10 miles to go before reaching the check-point and I randomly ran into a high school friend I hadn’t seen in year who was out supporting someone who was running the 50 mile course. I stopped and said hi, sat in one of her chairs and told her my plan of quitting. She gave some pretzels and having done the race last year she said to me: “Laura, you are not going to want to come back and do this race again. You have to finish and keep going. Oh by the way, the next few miles suck, but it gets better after that, I promise.” Haha. Ok, I kept going, choking back my emotions. It was around this point I also started jumping trail positions with another lady, Valerie. She was in town from Minnesota for the race and was attempting the 50 mile after an unfinished attempt at the 100 mile the year before. We talked and encouraged each other along, often seeing each other in different spots. As I pushed forward, swearing at the course became therapeutic for me. It was hard. I was pushing more than I was riding. I was ready to be done and I was still in Ishpeming knowing I had some miles to cover to get back to Jackson Park in Negaunee. I had just come off a hard section of single track and was relieved to be on a section of paved path through town. A few people passed me going really fast, and I quickly realized it was the front pack of the 100 mile racers! Amazing! It gave me a burst of energy and I kept going through Ishpeming. By this time it was mid-afternoon and it was hot and humid. My water was low and I was bonking.

The incredible thing about the Marji, the thing that keeps most racers going, is the community of support along the course. It was at one of my lowest points that I came across a group of ladies on the side of the trail with coolers, food, and a massage table! They offered me some water and pulled out a cold cloth from a cooler for me to put around my neck. Oh it was glorious and it gave me another burst of energy to keep going. I thanked them profusely and made my way to Jackson Park, check point 2. I did it. 40 miles. My dad along with my dear friend and her family were all there to greet me. It was so wonderful to see familiar people that I just about lost it. I still wanted to quit, but they wouldn’t let me. Valerie also rolled into Jackson Park at about the same time and came over offering to ride with me and finish the last 20 miles together. Ok, I’ll keep going. I fueled up on a grilled cheese, refilled water, grabbed my lights, and changed into dry clothes. I felt like a new person!

20ish more miles to go, I keep over-hearing people say they are the hardest of the race. They weren’t kidding. Valerie and I set-off and right out of the park we are already off our bikes climbing a big steep hill. I was really regretting my life choices at this moment. The next 10 miles are kind of a blur. I was so thankful Valerie stuck with me. I would not have been able to keep going with out her encouragement and new-found friendship. Somewhere along the way, we picked up another couple ladies, Katie and Emilee. We all decided to finish this damn race together in the dark. There was A LOT of bike pushing, a few crashes, and even some puking. Again, the one thing that kept us going was the incredible community support, even late into the night. My friend Josh and his son met us at a road crossing, saving us all with a sour patch kid hand-out. We eventually rolled into the infamous Lake Minnie, where there was a crew cooking grilled cheese, handing out pop (soda to all you non-midwesterners), and a raging bonfire. Ok, we can do this, we just have to keep going. By now we are almost done, down to the last 10 miles.

I swear if I have to climb one more hill, I’m going to chuck my bike off the side and just walk to the finish….well, pretty sure we climbed like 50 more hills, still pushing our bikes, talking about life, laughing, swearing, just trying to keep going. We could see bike lights ahead of us at times, oh great, looks like they are climbing up yet another hill. I reach the top of a steep climb and wait for the others. I’m pleasantly surprised to hear a Barred owl calling, and then a screech owl (yes, I’m a total nature nerd)! I took this as a good omen, they were telling us to keep going. Occasionally, we’d also see eyes glowing back at us. Deer, it’s just deer. Keep going. We are down to the last couple miles, riding down a street in Ishpeming, knowing we have one more climb: Jasper Knob. We got this, we’re going to f*^%$@! finish! Pushing our bikes up the last little bit, we reach the top of Jasper Knob and grab our last token.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the tokens. There are tokens along the race route that you need to grab and bring to the finish line. They don’t tell you how many and if you don’t have all the tokens at the finish line, you either DQ or go back and get your damn missing tokens. So the whole race, you’re asking everyone how many tokens they have, hoping you have the same number.

We roll into downtown Ispheming and can see the finish line. It’s dark, it’s 3am, but there’s still an amazing crowd of people cheering us on, including my dad and good friend, Josh. We cross the line together. We did it, we are #FINISHERS of the Marji Gesick 50 miler. Holy shit. Todd himself was at the finish line to congratulate us and make sure we had all our tokens. We did and it was the best feeling in the world. I had finished what I started. According to my watch it took us 18 hours 13 minutes 47 seconds, total distance of 65 miles, with a total ascent of 8,215 feet (who knew you could experience that much elevation change in the U.P. of MI).

You get 25 hours to get to the finish line and we did it. It wasn’t the fastest time in the world, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was we kept going, we all finished what we started and met some amazing people along the way. I will never forget the friendship gained on the trail with Valerie, Katie and Emilee. We are forever bonded by the “misery loves company” of the Marji Gesick. I will also never forget the community of support surrounding this race. You could feel the energy and encouragement of everyone you passed, whether they were fellow racers or support crew. The community surrounding the Marji is truly something unique and special. The Marji changed me. I finished what I started, found my limits, and destroyed them. I can indeed do hard shit and you know what? You can too. Is the Marji Gesick in your future? It should be, because you too can be a #Finisher.

Side bar: The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is a premier location for mid-west mountain biking. If you don’t do the Marji, at least plan a visit to do some riding. You also can’t beat the beautiful sandy beaches along Lake Superior, local breweries, and kindness of Yoopers. Alaska is my home for now, but the U.P. is always calling me back.

Some links of interest:

https://marjigesick.com/

https://www.facebook.com/marjigesick/

https://www.facebook.com/groups/662647564185936/

https://theradavist.com/mino-giizhigad-maazhi-giizhigadthe-marji-gesick/

https://www.rambatrails.com/

https://noquetrails.org/

https://www.travelmarquette.com/

About the Author: Laura Kruger has called Alaska home since 2009. She is a mother of 2 five-year-olds, and is Operations Manager at the Eagle River Nature Center. And is one bad-ass Marji Gesick #Finisher.