Keweenaw Trail, Mich.: A run through the woods
UNIQUE | Annual Keweenaw Trail Running Festival in Michigan takes athletes off the beaten path
During my third marathon, and seven lonely miles of golf courses and military housing on Arsenal Island in the Mississippi River, I decided to end my short racing career.
After crossing the finish line, I took up swimming and biking and weight-lifting. I declared myself a running burnout.
Then my brother-in-law Ken told me about the Keweenaw Trail Running Festival, held every July in Copper Harbor, in the Keweenaw Peninsula of Michigan's U.P. Ken, an experienced runner, was excited about training for the event and thought a goal would give me extra incentive to stay the course.
In this world of 5Ks and 10Ks every other day, the Keweenaw Trail Running Festival is a unique alternative: Runners give up pounding the pavement for a weekend of traipsing through backcountry trails in the coastal highlands of northern Keweenaw County. Saturday morning begins with an easy 10K jaunt through the forest.
Saturday evening runners race a 6K, climbing 917 vertical feet to the top of Mount Lookout, overlooking Lake Superior, just in time to see the sunset. Sunday morning is when you really work up a sweat. It's a 25K roaming up and down the backcountry hills of the Upper Peninsula.
Saturday morning tests speed, Saturday night tests strength, and Sunday morning tests endurance. When the final race ends on Sunday, survivors get together for an organic, locally grown breakfast.
After fantasizing I could run the whole shebang, I remembered I hadn't really trained for six months. So I opted for the 10K and 6K hill climb and started hitting Chicago's lakefront path.
Trail running is gaining popularity, especially among runners who are tired of crowded city sidewalks and choking bus fumes."A lot of people are inside a building all day long and running on city streets," said Jeff Crumbaugh, a Wisconsin science teacher who started the festival in 2000 and continues to organize it every year. "Trail running is an opportunity to get out and experience nature firsthand. The surface is so much healthier than running on pavement. Runners find they can run further with fewer injuries and the scenery is more interesting, which also helps them go further."
The festival regularly attracts about 300 runners from about half the states.
"Over time, things have changed," Crumbaugh said. "People who come now are pretty dedicated trail runners. They're in it for camaraderie and adventure, not just the fast course. More runners are telling us they like being here the whole weekend and meeting people from around the country -- friendships form."
On Friday night, the parking lot of the Keweenaw Mountain Lodge -- festival central -- was packed with cars from Oregon to Vermont.
While picking up our race packets from the expo, we talked to vendors and got to check out a pair of trail running shoes for the weekend. This turned out to be a good thing, since my regular running shoes had seen too many miles of Chicago concrete, and dirt trails require a whole different kind of support.
The morning of the 10K was cool and sunny. I started out feeling strong among the friendly runners who naturally fell into a single-file line along the trail. It was quiet, despite there being hundreds of runners. Even while surrounded by people, I still had the sense of peace and solitude one gets in the woods. I decided trail running would be my new hobby.
And then I got tired.
Crumbaugh recommends that first-timers forget about their time and just take in the beauty around them. That's exactly what I did, because about halfway through the race, I was walking. I'd try spurts of running, then more walking. My legs -- not used to the variety of terrain -- ached in ways I'm ashamed to admit after just three miles.
Even so, a walk/run through the forest on a beautiful morning is a great way to start the weekend. But running a 6K that night was beginning to sound like a bad way to end the day.
As a smaller group gathered on the beach at Eagle Harbor for the evening 6K hill climb, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.
I started out decent enough but about halfway through, I was walking again. A group of women I'd seen running together that morning also were walking.
"We're saving our strength for tomorrow," they told me.
After a while, I reached the peak with the other runners and watched dusk descend on Lake Superior.
It wasn't easy, but it was worth every step.
Felicia Schneiderhan is a Chicago-based free-lance writer.









