Article written by Greg Hexum

In late-October 2021, duluthrunner.com creator, Kyle Schmidt and I made a weekend voyage to LaCrosse, WI to run the Hixon 50K (see Kyle’s Hixon race report here).

The Hixon finish line is where this racer/pacer report and promotional advertisement for becoming a pacer begins. Just after crossing the finish line, I connected with Minneapolis ultrarunner Ben Drexler. Ben had also just finished the race, running conservatively, and finishing second. He and I shared many of the 31+ miles of Lacrosse’s beautiful, but challenging Hixon Forest trails that day. As it can be in the Midwest trail running community, we knew about one another, but hadn’t really had a conversation.

I’d certainly taken notice of Ben in 2021, and not just because of his devastating good looks. Ben was the overall winner of both the Voyaguer 50 mile and the Superior 50 mile in a 6 week span from late-July to early-September. One might argue that those are the two of the three most competitive trail ultras in Minnesota, with the Afton 50k being the other. My point is that Ben had a tremendous year on the trails. In our post-race conversation he indicated that he wasn’t moving into recovery mode anytime soon. In fact, he shared that a primary aim for the extended season was a high placing at one of the country’s top trail ultras, the Bandera 100k, held each January in Texas Hill Country northwest of San Antonio. Five seconds later, Ben mentioned that due to the difficulty of Bandera, a pacer was recommended for the second 50 kilometer loop of the race and that he was looking for a crew and pacer for the event. A second later, I volunteered for both duties. Ben said, “Let’s do it,” and within a seven second span I went from being wrecked by the 50k I’d just finished to being wrecked by the 50k with a “blind date” to pace one of the Midwest’s best ultra-distance athletes during what he hoped to be one of his best days ever.

There was a long period of my running life where the speed and effort this would take would not have given me pause—and I didn’t hesitate to volunteer in the moment. Just shy of 51 years old, however, and with 24 hour cooling off period, a doubt crept in. As my post-Hixon soreness peaked, I began to wonder if I could handle the potentially hot pace and pressure of the National class competition at Bandera if Ben were mixing it up for a podium finish and a coveted Golden Ticket awarded to the top two men and women at Bandera. (Glossary: Golden Ticket = an automatic entry into the Western States 100 mile. These are awarded at a small handful of highly competitive ultras to top U.S. and International runners. Golden Tickets are worth more than gold as the other way to get into Western States is by entering a lottery through accumulated non-golden tickets earned by finishing inside a time cut off at select races. Getting in via lottery is like, well, winning the lottery. In short, there are two paths to the Western States 100 start line. One can be either very very fast or very very lucky. There’s more to it, but you get it. Thousands want in. A couple hundred get their wish.)

If you’re still with me, you might be wondering when this racer/pacer report begins. That’s now.

After leaving -17F Minneapolis early Friday morning, January 7, Ben Drexler and I had an uneventful flight to 55F Austin, Texas. I mention this because traveling to an event is always a part of the stress and fatigue associated with racing. Most of us are creatures of habit and going to compete in unfamiliar settings requires adaptability. Nobody feels quite right after waiting in line at TSA, flying, sitting, renting a car, sitting, eating unfamiliar food, and sleeping in unpredictable settings. Add the prospect of racing for 8-10 hours and having significant goals for a top-10, or maybe even better finish, and I could sense the the focus and intentional dedication to positivity it was taking for Ben to keep his race emotions in check without expending the energy he’d need for Saturday’s 62.2 miles, 7000 feet of vertical climbing and the other stuff Bandera is know for. The course description reminds runners that everything they’ll encounter “cuts, stings, or bites.”

At 6:30 a.m. Saturday morning Ben and a bunch of the country’s top male and female ultra runners set off, headlamps alighted, into the drizzly 45 degree darkness. Cup of coffee in hand, I jumped in the rental Jeep and began my shift as aid station crew. Ben and I’d planned emergency drop bags for him at each aid station as a back up, but Plan A was for me to have Ben’s supplies at each of the 6 checkpoints on the 31.1 mile loop. Bandera’s aid station were well stocked, but like many athletes, Ben knows that he’ll have unpredictable food cravings as the miles pass. Our race cooler contained typical race hydration products, gels, and bars, but Ben prefers “real food” during races and eating a lot (and keeping it down) is a huge ultrarunner strength for Ben. The ability to stay hydrated and fueled without crippling gastrointestinal issues is essential. An abridged list of what Ben ate (or what I fed him) during the race may shock the faint of heart, so reader beware: Water, energy drinks, gels, Larabars, oranges, grapes, blueberries, dried mangos, sliced deli ham and turkey, beef jerky, pickles, salt caplets, Swedish Fish, a full Starbucks cold brew, Red Bull, two bags of 11 ingredient homemade trail mix that included Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, soup and a cheese quesadilla. If I had to guess, Ben consumed the equivalent of two full days of meals for the average person, while racing.

The drinking and eating aspect of racing was great for Ben all day, but the running obstacles started early for him. By mile 21, Ben’s quads were sore and heavy and he knew he wasn’t going to have a great day. A week of (fully vaxxed and boosted) COVID-19 four weeks earlier, a stubborn case of patellar tendinitis, the wear and tear of pandemic math teaching (at Plymouth Middle School) and months of heavy training and racing combined to chip away at the mojo he’d need to have the elite caliber race he’d hoped for.

By mile 27, Ben told me he was struggling and that it was going to be a long ass day. The emotional part of ultrarunning is immensely challenging. So is crewing for athletes having a rough go. I shoved some food in his mouth and got him moving through the aid station toward end of the first lap and the half way mark. That stretch turned out to be the end of Ben’s hopes for a top ten finish. The gathering concrete-like mud on the bottoms of his and other racers’ shoes made Ben feel even heavier. He was physically and mentally ready to crack as he entered the start/finish area for the the end of lap one (of two).

This is where I was to jump in as his pacer. I’d gotten myself ready to push Ben to a blazing final 31.1miles, but it appeared that I’d now need to adapt and just help him safely get around the course one more time. Both ultrarunners and their crews need to be prepared to adapt on the fly. After a bathroom stop and a change of shoes and socks, Ben proposed the we set out with the idea of running a half mile and hiking a half mile, never proposing to end his race or drop out. I’ve been around difficult races for my friends and fellow runners enough times to know that a crew member can say too much. I validated Ben’s feelings and we set off jogging. Two minutes later, we began the first of the long, rocky, slippery, cutting-cactus-covered-climbs. Ben was an unhappy camper, but he was committed to finishing and earning his non-golden tickets for the Western States 100 lottery.

What happened over the next 31 miles was magical. If it hasn’t happened to you or in your presence, it is hard to explain. 10 minutes into my pacing duties, I started talking to Ben as a distraction. I was telling stories and talking shit. I don’t remember most of it. 10 minutes after that, Ben’s tone changed, his posture changed, his cadence quickened. He’d forgotten his plan to alternately walk and jog. We were running progressively faster every few minutes.

We started passing other very good runners who were starting to fall apart. That trend lasted the entire second 50k. Ben had dropped to 33rd place. He finished 20th. He was, no doubt, in constant pain, but he was back from the dead. 40 miles into the race and we were moving fast. By 50 miles we were flying. I was catching glimpses of 6:00 minute pace on my GPS as we ate up ground on the less technical part of the course, Texas ranch land. We blasted past other runners, some of them race favorites. Very few racers covered miles 45-55 faster than Ben (and me). Occasionally, I’d dump a pitcher or two of cold water over his head as a liquid slap in the face, but once his mojo returned, Ben’s positivity and joyful mojo returned and replaced the grit and stubbornness that had been fueling him.

Together, we accelerated for the entire last ten miles, finishing on a high, albeit well behind the goal. As it is with long distance foot races, there are different levels of pride and feelings of success that come with the multitude of divergent, unpredictable outcomes associated with races of the marathon distance and longer. Ben was pleased with an asterisk. That’s just how it goes sometimes.

After snapping a few photos with old and new friends, we Jeeped it back to Austin, TX for 18 hours of brewery tours. If you’ve not been, Austin is one of the greatest places in the country to drink craft beer. Live Oak Brewing Company is tremendous, and famous, but for my money, there’s nothing better than world famous Jester King Brewery 20 minutes outside of Austin on an old farm. Four bars inhabit the old ranch where hipsters, beer aficionados, and a herd of goats imbibe together. The goats will literally drink your beer if you let them.

Long story short, we two working adults navigate crazy Covid travel and we’re back to our respective jobs Monday morning, exhausted but fulfilled.

I feel like I should wrap up by telling you why you should sign to be a pacer, but like being a racer, we all have our unique motivations. I, for one, love being party to another person’s success. Helping a fellow athlete navigate obstacles and ride out the physical and emotional rollercoaster ride that is every long distance race energizes both my competitive and empathic circuits and there’s lots more.

I built a friendship through a shared, intense experience, experienced a hybrid insider/outsider view of an event, and learned some new tips, tricks, and techniques that could help me as a coach and athlete.

If you love an adventure, volunteer to be a pacer. It’ll add another bullet point to the list of reasons you love running.