Ironwood, MI (May 11, 2019) – On a beautiful spring day, Red Bull returned to the Copper Peak International Ski Flying Complex in the town of Ironwood, Michigan for the second running of the Red Bull 400 Copper Peak race. Started in 2018 the race utilizes the “only ski flying hill outside of Europe,” to create a racing experience like no other race in the world, and I was there to run it.
The 400 meter race is all centered around the ski jump and the hill, which combined has an elevation gain of 140 meters, the equivalent of a 40 story building.
It’s the steepest 400 meter race in the world.
Initially I thought it’s just a 400 meter race, that’s all, it shouldn’t be that hard. No. That is not all it was, it’s so much more…and it’s hard, stupid hard. The scale of the course doesn’t dawn on you until you’re there, feet on the ground, staring up at it from the bottom thinking, “I’m supposed to race up that?!” But yeah, i’m gonna do that.
The race is a serious test of fitness, stamina, mental toughness and competitiveness. For the competitive athletes it’s also a race needing skill and strategy to win. Exemplifying these traits were Sarah Hendrickson, a two-time Ski Jump Olympian and Red Bull Athlete, the women’s champion with a time of 6:13.4, and Miles Fink-Debray, a Red Bull 400 racing veteran, the men’s champion with a time of 4:38.0. Truly impressive wins for both athletes.
As someone who has made her living jumping down these hills, it was a different experience to run up them for Hendrickson. Who in the end, won the race in nail bitting fashion.
“It is obvious that I love a good challenge,” said Hendrickson. “Thanks to my family genetics I have always been in love with all types of athletics as it has been a huge part of my upbringing. While being a ski jumper does not require direct cardio fitness, we do train a lot to stay lean and powerful year round. I am constantly running, biking, doing yoga, lifting weights, swimming, or hiking as a way to keep my body in a well-rounded athletic way. When I first did the Red Bull 400 about four years ago, I really “enjoyed” (In a twisted, brutal kind of way) the endorphins when powering up that hill. Of course I would rather fly down these ski jumps but I love the challenge that it brings while running up it! The way that I approach this race mentally is to just get in a rhythm and just keep moving, hand over hand. The faster you go, the faster it is over!”
People from all ages, backgrounds and fitness levels were there to test themselves against the course and join the experience. For most it was a chance to accomplish something they hadn’t done before, for some, to beat their time from the previous year. What they all did was join in a community that didn’t exist two years ago, at least not in these woods, on this mountain, doing this crazy thing. Participation more than doubled from year to year, from less than 500 in 2018 to more than one thousand in 2019. In many heats there were only a handful of racers who had run it the year before, and in a good number of heats everyone was a first-timer. Competitors traveled from all over the world to compete in the race, but most came from the surrounding region.
There was a festival atmosphere in the air from the start and the excitement from the competitors was evident and contagious. Competitors and spectators mingled throughout the grounds, talking, laughing, stretching, warming up, offering words of encouragement. I met a number of competitors throughout the day. A multi-time obstacle course racer, an accountant and private pilot who flew his family in from a neighboring state, local teenagers, families all running together, grandfathers, sisters, friends. They all came to compete for their own reasons and each of them walked away with a new experience.
Competitors ran in men’s and women’s qualifying heats every 15 minutes throughout the day. The top 40 men and top 40 women with the fastest times would run a final heat later in the afternoon to determine the winners. Spectators lined the fences to cheer on family, friends and strangers. There were beer tents and food trucks, dogs barked, kids played in the dirt, picking up worms and piling rocks. One little boy, about 2 years old, sat in a chair near the starting line with a little white cow bell in hand. Each time competitors started to line up he’d count down 3-2-1, ring his bell and yell “GO!” with a smile and the excitement that he was starting each race.
My emotions changed throughout the day from intimidation, to determination, to nervous excitement, to pain, then finally to joy. My heat was scheduled for the afternoon, at 2pm, so I had time to talk with other competitors about what I was in for. The consensus I heard from everyone was, “just keep moving, don’t stop.” Shortly before 2pm the competitors in our heat lined up. We were in a mixed group of men and women. I lined up on the left side of the course closest to the little boy with the cow bell, and listened, he was still going strong even in the afternoon. The nervous excitement ratcheted up as the minutes to start time ticked down.
My heat started at the gun and the first 50 meters felt pretty good, you know, the flat part. I reached the netting in good shape and began climbing, pulling myself up. About 100 meters in Sarah Hendrickson passed me on her way to qualifying for the Women’s final heat. At 150 meters it became heart pounding, lung melting, leg shredding, “I just don’t want to die” survival. The seconds piled up, then turned into minutes, and with my head down, legs moving, step by step, grabbing the net hand over hand, I slowly climbed. I glanced up several times to check my progress, and every time it seemed like the top was no closer. But the dirt, rocks, grass and netting slowly melted behind me as I crawled up the first hill. For me there was no strategy involved, it was all about surviving and finishing.
I finally made it to the top of the hill and took a quick pause of about five seconds for water, really my excuse to breathe, and then started up the ramp to the ski jump portion of the fun. At this point it became a pacing exercise, stay under my red line heart rate and go long enough not to pass out, pause for 3 seconds of air and then keep going. Just don’t stop. I really just crawled up the ski jump, there was no running, I was so wrong to think I was going to run up this. There were encouraging words all along the way, from spectators, people working the race, and racers who’d just finished making their way down. Those little bits of encouragement meant so much. The course is physically taxing and there is a significant mental challenge to it.
For the last 25 meters or so my legs felt like dragging sand bags. Each plodding step seemed to require three deep breaths to get enough oxygen to take the next one. At the finish line I collapsed into a heap and rolled my self over to see what I had just done. I needed to breathe, smartly there were oxygen tanks at the ready, and boy were they wonderful. The views from the top were spectacular and as I looked at the horizon and out to Lake Superior I felt a deep sense of accomplishment. The rest at the top was short-lived, however, as other competitors filtered through the finish line. Recovered enough to move, I made my way back down the ski jump stairs, with some seriously wobbly legs that shook for the next hour.
After all the heats were done and the top 40 men’s and top 40 women’s heats were set, I rode the ski lift up to catch the finals at the transition point from the top of the hill to the bottom of the ski jump. I rode up with a father from the region, a carpenter, who ran the race with several members of his family. His daughter qualified for the women’s finals. He ran last year and came back again this year, and he was faster this year, beating his first time by more than a minute. We compared times, he was 6 seconds faster than me. He said watching his daughter run the race was a source of real pride for him, beating his son-in-law by a good margin was a really close second.
So many of the racers said they were already planning to return next year, a few said never again, and a few were in the medical tent, in no condition to chat about the experience. There was such a sense of accomplishment from everyone I spoke with. Even through gasping breathes, shaky legs, eyes stinging with sweat and the occasional drop of blood, there were smiles everywhere.
The women’s final heat was tremendous. Three athletes crested the hill, Sarah Hendrickson in the lead, with two racers right on her heels. They took to the ski jump and for the next couple of minutes, as they ground their way up to the finish line, several attempts were made to pass her, but she held on to the lead and the win. In the men’s final heat Miles Fink-Debray crested the hill with a healthy lead, maintained the lead throughout and was never really threatened to earn the win.
The Red Bull 400 Copper Peak was more than just a race with winners, it was certainly that, and Sarah Hendrickson and Miles Fink-Debray should be congratulated for it, it’s a hell of a race. But it was also about everyday men and women, who wanted to build a bond with friends, family, and community that can only be created through an event like this.
The only way to really understand it is to experience it.