I have intentionally waited until the dust has settled before writing about my first experience of the Marji Gesick. It’s easy to get swept up in the excitement of an event that takes us away from our usual routine, returning home with a beaming smile only to later dissect the experience and realize it wasn't all that great. I came home glowing, and I wanted to be certain about my feelings. So here I am, almost a month after the event.

To provide context for those who might not be familiar with the Marji, it's essentially a 100-mile mountain bike race set in the forests and hills of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Among endurance mountain biking enthusiasts, it has earned a reputation for being one of the toughest single-day mountain bike races in North America. Beyond the main 100-mile race, there are additional events held simultaneously or over the same weekend, all subject to a bit of "Marji Maths." This year, the 100-mile race turned out to be actually 107 miles long and had categories for biking, running, and a duathlon (humorously termed the "worst of both worlds"). The 50-mile race was closer to 62 miles and included biking and running categories as well. There is also a "mini Marji," which is roughly 20 miles long, and this year, an out-and-back race that covered double the 100-mile course.

The race is immensely popular. Registration for next year's event opened last Saturday at 9:06 PM and sold out in under a minute. When I say "sold out," I mean that the website bikereg.com crashed due to the sheer number of people trying to register simultaneously. The passionate following for the Marji is evident; those who love it seem willing to do anything to participate. Even before attending, it was clear to me that a strong culture surrounds this race.

So how did I come to participate in an event that perhaps fewer than 5% of all the mountain bikers I've raced with over the past 30 years have even heard of?

In late 2017, I was approached by race director Todd, who asked if I would be interested in helping participants succeed in their quest to finish the race. At that time, the DNF (Did Not Finish) rate was notably high, and two-time US mountain bike champion Jermiah Bishop had declared Marji as "the toughest one-day race in America." Tinker had also participated and was blown away by the course's technical nature, which made me eager to get involved. I accepted the offer.

As the years passed, the event continued to grow, and the support I was able to provide for competitors expanded in tandem with the event’s success and my own learning from each year spent working on it. There were several years when I wanted or tried to attend, but COVID-19 and rising flight prices hindered those plans. This year, however, it was long overdue.

Leaving the UK has become a significant event for me lately. Even venturing out for a weekend to attend a race feels like a big deal. I love where I live, cherish our lifestyle, and appreciate the peaceful life I share with my wife and our three kids. I don’t really yearn to travel far; when I race, it's mainly for fun or to prove to myself that, even in my 50s, I can still perform well.

Thankfully, one of the athletes I coach encouraged me to go to Switzerland last year, which helped reduce the anxiety I felt leading into this trip. 

I set off from the West Country in the UK on Monday morning. Jen dropped me off at the train station, and after three trains and several hours, I arrived at Slough Station, not far from Heathrow. My old friend Gavin kindly offered his spare room for an overnight stay and provided lifts from the station to his home on Monday, and then to Heathrow on Tuesday morning. Step one was complete.

Tuesday was spent focused on flights, wandering through airports, and getting some work done on my laptop. After two flights, four in-flight movies, and travelling 4,500 miles, I finally stepped out into the dry heat of Marquette County. Todd graciously picked me up from the airport (note to self: hire a car next time) and took me to my accommodations for the week: the Rippling River Resort, just three miles from Marquette and actually located on the race course. 

I checked in, ordered a drink and a pizza, and sat by the river, marvelling at the beautiful surroundings. I was already convinced that it was a great decision to participate in the race this year.

Wednesday arrives, and I need to gather some supplies. I require energy gels and drinks for both the race and any training or course inspections I want to do before Saturday. Additionally, I need food for the week and something for breakfast. My tech also needs charging, and I don't have a vehicle. 

I assemble my bike, unpack my gear, and ride the three miles into Marquette. On the way, I start to get a sense of the bike paradise I’ve stumbled into. First, I came across wooden ramps and rollers—things that would soon be vandalized and burned to ashes back in the UK. Then, I spot a huge jump spot. As I roll into the city, which boasts a population of around 20,000, I pass three bike shops on my way to my first coffee stop: Velodrome Coffee. 

I leave my bike outside, which seems to be the norm here, and I probably won’t need to lock it—interesting! Feeling a bit nervous, I sit by the window, my eyes glued to my bike. I enjoy a waffle and savour my first coffee since arriving.

I check my Wahoo and realize that I'm not far from the start of the 50-mile course. I'm entered for the 50 miles because I'm not certain my knee can handle the 100 just yet, so attempting that distance seems unreasonable at this point. I also realize that I don't have a plug adapter, which makes carrying my laptop into town in a large bag a bit pointless. However, the bag is useful for bringing home a week’s worth of race essentials like gels, energy bars, and some everyday food.

I set off to find the start of the course, aiming to follow the first part of the 50-mile route back to my cabin in the woods at Rippling River. The area has a sleepy, relaxed vibe, and I meander through the centre with little delay or distraction. Eventually, I arrive at the start and come across the impressive Ore Dock on the shore of Lake Michigan.

I've come to the U.P. with my single-speed bike. It’s partly by choice because I enjoy riding and racing it, and partly out of necessity since my geared bike is broken and we don't have the funds to repair it. 

As I set out on the 50-mile course, I realised that the start could pose a problem; it’s very flat and mostly paved for the first few miles. With a start sheet of 650 participants and a course known for being primarily single-track, the prospect of going backwards for several miles is not very exciting. I hope the first climb comes soon. Be careful what you wish for! 

The first climb is nearly too steep for me on a single-speed bike and requires a lot of standing up. However, the gravel is so deep and loose that standing up provides no traction at all, forcing me to walk. I tell myself it’s all due to the weight of my bag, but I know I’m just kidding myself. I walk for quite some time and eventually reach the top. The view was worth the trek, even if I now realize that the start doesn’t suit me and the first climb suits me even less.

I manage to take a photo or two, then bomb down the other side and arrive at the cabins.

Already I’ve ended up riding and walking for 80 minutes on a day when I had only planned for a 90-minute session. I still haven’t explored the parts of the course that I really wanted to check out! I set up my laptop and plotted a route on Komoot that would take me through the next 15 miles of the course, then back via the smoothest and flattest route possible, avoiding any main highways.

After eating and changing, I filled my bottles and hit the trail. Most of the next 15 miles consisted of technical singletrack. While it wasn't overly challenging, there were some tricky moments. The remaining sections included some sandy traps, followed by a long, flat cycle path. I decided I didn't need to explore all of that, so I turned back home. 

The return journey was easy, but the heat made it tough, especially on my single-speed bike. When I got back to camp, I felt reassured that I had the technical skills to tackle the trails. With an additional 2 hours and 20 minutes in my legs—nearly 4 hours in total—this was a significant training day for me. I chose to focus on enjoying the fact that I had been riding on dry, dusty trails in such a beautiful part of the world.

Todd very kindly came to my rescue once again, taking me back into Marquette to buy a plug adapter and plenty of food to sustain me for the remainder of my visit. He also offered a lift to Jackson Park the next day so I could ride "the most technical parts of the course." (Note to self: hire a car next time!)

I haven't slept well the second night, just like the first. Jet lag keeps me on UK time, waking up but gradually shifting toward Marquette's bedtime. As a result, I'm managing only about 3-4 hours of sleep each night. I wake up with sore legs, eat breakfast, and prepare my drinks. Then, Todd arrives bright and early to drive me over to Jackson Park. 

Todd is incredibly busy; he's organizing a huge bike race and really shouldn’t be spending his time being my taxi. However, we managed to have a nice chat, which I truly enjoy. We’ve talked many times over Zoom, but it’s never quite the same as being there in person. His phone rings constantly during the drive, as he has a million things to coordinate. 

Despite this, we have a good conversation, and when we arrive at Jackson Park, he shares what it will look like on race day. I mentioned that I planned to ride the southern loop, but he suggested I check out the longer northern loop. He lists various trail names that I've heard repeatedly from people I've coached for this epic race. 

We say our goodbyes, he drives off in his massive pickup, and I set off north on my bike.

Yes, that's the trail, and yes, that's a huge drop just a few inches away from it! 

Fifteen minutes in, and I'm quietly confident. At thirty minutes, I find myself giggling. Who knew that thirty years of racing on tight, root- and rock-infested off-camber trails in the UK would be the perfect training for the Marji Gesick? This is amazing, and I'm absolutely loving it! The trails are incredibly good! 

While they are technical, there's nothing here that feels random or relies on luck more than skill and ability. If you have the skills, you'll excel when riding the R.A.M.B.A. trails. There is some edgy exposure, which I usually don't favor, but the trail is well-maintained in those areas. You really have to do something unusual or be quite unlucky to actually fall over the edge.

I really enjoyed the trails, and for the next couple of hours, I was loving life and looking forward to the race in a few days. However, I started to run out of energy and water, and I realized I was gradually overheating as the temperature continued to rise. With five miles to go, I was no longer enjoying myself.

Thankfully, I came across a manual water pump and soaked myself from head to toe. After that, I pushed through the remaining five miles and reached the end. I then searched for food before taking the easy trek back to camp along the Ore Heritage Trail. I found a café, devoured a grilled cheese sandwich and a Coke, and had a nice chat with a fellow single-speeder who was about to tackle the 200-mile (plus Marji Maths) out and back. Incredible!

The return to camp was an easy cruise, adding another 4 hours and 20 minutes to my legs. That makes two days of training that exceed my usual weekly total! My legs are sore, so I better rest tomorrow. The evening was filled with visits from the athletes I coach, a BBQ, and Jeremiah (Bishop) arriving rather late after having trouble getting a taxi from the airport. 

Friday morning begins with my interview with Patrick Collins, the two-time champion of the National Ultra Endurance series and current series leader, for Jeremiah's film about Marji Gesick. Shortly after, my friend and coached athlete Adam arrived, and the four of us set out for a ride together. It quickly becomes clear that riding with JB and PC may put me at a disadvantage for tomorrow's race, so we let them head to their preferred trails while we focus on working on some skills in another section of the 100-mile course.

We keep the ride fun and short, enjoying a variety of great discussions along the way, making for a super enjoyable 80 minutes. JB returns not long after, and Adam offers us a lift into Marquette for lunch. The afternoon is relaxed, filled with conversations with JB fans and people I've coached, along with a few photo opportunities. Adam drops us back at camp, promising to pick us up later for packet pickup that night. What an absolute legend!

The photo above belongs to Kevin Daum and was taken by his mother. From left to right: myself, JB, and Adam, whom I coached to complete the 100-mile bike ride in 2022 and the Duathlon 100 this year. Kevin, who also used one of my training plans, completed the Duathlon 100 this year with my support.

I didn’t take any photos during packet pickup because I was busy talking to athletes I had helped prepare for the races! As soon as I walked through the door to the venue, I began chatting with two of them. Then I met another in the bar, followed by another on the ramp down to the main area. Next, a queue formed as people wanted to discuss coaching, so we had to move it off the ramp since it was blocking the entrance. It was such a lovely experience as a coach to meet so many individuals impacted by my work. I was completely blown away and humbled by the number of amazing people wanting to talk about cycling. It was so incredible that I nearly forgot to pick up my race number!

Kevin gave me a ride back to camp, and JB arrived later with his film crew. We spent a nice hour enjoying some food with the Switchback team, who were staying in nearby cabins. JB needed to get some rest since his race started earlier and was farther away. We turned in for the night, and before I knew it, 4 AM arrived. JB was up preparing for the 100-mile race and getting ready to capture as much as he could on his GoPro for his film and promotional social media shorts. He was as cool as a cucumber, and you would never guess he was about to compete against the best in the race just a few hours later. We sipped coffee while he arranged all his cameras and spare batteries. A true professional.

JB left, and the camp fell quiet. I started preparing my bottles, drop bag, and kit for the day. I set off at first light, rolling at an easy pace toward Marquette. As I approached the lake, I was greeted by an excellent sunrise. It felt like it was going to be a good day. 

The closer I got to the start, the less it felt like Marquette from just a day or two ago. There was a buzz, an energy, amplified by heavy metal music blasting from loudspeakers at 7 AM on the shores of the lake. It was really surreal and very special. 

I dropped my bag and waited for the bikes to be lined up across the start street. I positioned myself at the front, knowing I would fall behind later and didn't want to be too far back when we reached the first stretch of single track. My legs were already sore, but now I knew what the course was like, how to ride it, how to pace myself, and where I needed to conserve energy. Fresh legs wouldn’t have been worth the trade-off.