On June 4-5, I ran the FANS
24-Hour Race. I’ve done this race many
times before, but I wasn’t originally planning to do it this year. I haven’t done the type of training I
normally do for a race like this. Three
weeks before the race, I made a somewhat impulsive decision to sign up for the
race to compete for a state championship.
The RRCA designated the
FANS 24-Hour race as a state championship event for Minnesota. There were eight championships being decided
in the 24-hour race: overall male and female winners and top male and female in the 40-49, 50-59, and 60 and over age groups. There weren’t any championships being decided
in the 6-hour or 12-hour race.
When I was younger, I
tried on a few occasions to complete for the overall win in this race. I never won it, but I’ve placed as high as
second. The days when I could compete
for the overall win are over, but now I had a chance to compete for an over 60
championship. I’m not in peak shape for
a marathon, much less an ultra, but I liked my chances of running farther than
anyone else over 60. I wasn’t competing
with that many other runners. There were
only nine men over 60 in the 24-hour race.
I didn’t know how many
miles it would take to win the over 60 championship. I thought 90 miles might be enough, but I set
my sights on running 100+ miles. If I
could keep moving for the entire 24 hours, I would need to maintain an average
pace of 14:24 per mile to reach 100. I
planned to do that by alternating between running and walking.
FANS stands for Furthering
Achievement Through a Network of Support.
It’s a mentoring program for high school students. The race is a fundraising event to fund
college scholarships for these students.
Race participants could either pay an entry fee or raise money for the scholarship
fund. I usually raise money, but as a
last-minute entrant, I just paid the entry fee this year.
Over the years, this race
has had four different venues. This
year, the race was held at Normandale Lake in Bloomington, MN. The race was held here once before, when the
race couldn’t be held at Snelling Lake because of flooding in the Minnesota
River valley. There isn’t as much room
for tents at Normandale Lake, but I like the course. Unlike the course at Snelling Lake, which is
about 50 percent dirt trails, this one was all paved, with the exception of two
short wooden bridges.
In a 24-hour race, you go
as far as you can in 24 hours. You can
run, walk, or take breaks, but the clock is always running. Whoever goes the farthest wins. Our course was a 1.82 mile loop around the lake. We had to do complete laps for it to count. In the last hour of the race, we could switch
to a short out-and-back course that was 1/8 mile each way.
We all wore timing chips
on our ankles to record when we finished each lap. As a backup, our laps were also counted
manually by volunteers at the main aid station.
You could always ask your lap counter how many laps you had completed. If you thought they missed one of your laps, you
could ask them to do an audit by comparing the manual records to the lap times
recorded by the chip timing.
Friday evening, I went to
the Normandale Lake Bandshell to pick up my race packet. While I was there, I figured out where we
could put up our tent in the morning.
I’ve been sleeping well
lately, but the night before the race I couldn’t get to sleep. After laying in bed for three hours without falling
asleep, I got desperate. I got up and
took some Nyquil. The last time I took
that for a cold, it knocked me out quickly.
Two hours after taking it, I was still wide awake. I eventually fell asleep, but I couldn’t stay
asleep. After a series of short naps, my
alarm went off.
I felt drugged, but I
quickly snapped into “race mode.” Over
the years, I’ve programmed myself to spring into action when I need to get ready
for a race.
The weather was
unseasonably cool for June. When the
race started, the temperature was in the 50s.
That would be nice weather for continuous running, but it’s a bit chilly
if you’re mostly walking.
The race started at 8:00
AM on Saturday, but we could start setting up tents at 6:00. I arrived right at 6:00, so I could get a
good location before anyone else grabbed it.
I was met there by my sister Betty and her husband John, and the three
of us set up our tent. Once the tent was
up, we had a dry place to store our gear.
Many of the runners had
tents. Friends and family members of the
runners would all hang out in “tent city.”
There’s always a
competition for the best campsite. My
favorite was Mary Harvey’s tent, which had a Math Camp theme. Every hour, her crew changed the formula on
the chalkboard, so it would indicate the number of hours remaining in the race.
While we were setting up
the tent, Deb was already starting her volunteer shift. She was helping with runner and volunteer
check-ins, so she had to get started early.
After that, she was a “floater,” going wherever they needed extra
help. Betty was volunteering as a lap
counter, but her shift didn’t start until 2:00 PM.
June is a rainy month, so
this race almost always gets at least a little bit of rain. If we’re lucky, it’s just a passing shower. If we’re not so lucky, it’s a thunderstorm. This year we were exceptionally lucky. A large rain system moved through southern
Minnesota on Saturday, but we were just far enough north to be missed by the
rain. I kept rain gear in the tent in
case it rained later, but the rain never came.
After unloading our gear,
John and I went to the main aid station to check in and pick up our timing
chips. While we were there, we met our
lap counters. We also went to the medical
tent to weigh in. Ten minutes before the
race, we went to the starting line to listen to pre-race instructions.
To get to 100 miles, I needed
to pace myself well. If I went too fast,
I would get too tired, and I’d never be able to make it through the night. You have to know what your limits are and
pace yourself accordingly. If you go by
feel, you’ll go too fast. A pace that
will break you after 12 hours will probably feel really easy for the first six
hours.
I have a history of
pacing myself aggressively in this race.
I had to guard against doing that this year. John was registered as a 24-hour walker. As a hedge against starting fast, I started
the race walking with John. It wouldn’t
hurt me to start with a lap or two of power walking. I fully expected to spend at least as much
time walking as I did running. There
would be plenty of time later to run, but starting out walking helped me keep
from going out too fast.
Our first lap had a
different starting line, so it was a shorter lap of only 1.68 miles. The purpose of this shorter lap was to ensure
that we would hit the 100 mile mark right at the end of a lap. 100 miles is not only a common goal for
24-hour runners, but it’s THE goal for Centurion walkers.
The pace I needed to get
to 100 miles worked out to an average 26:12 per lap. In the past, I often used variable-length walking
breaks to keep myself right on my target pace.
This time, I did something different.
Starting with my third lap, I ran half of the loop and walked the other
half. I knew my average pace would be a
little bit fast, but I wanted to do enough running in the morning to keep my legs
from getting cold.
One of the challenges of
a race like this is taking in enough calories to replace the ones you’re burning. A rule of thumb is that you burn roughly 100
calories per mile. If I ran 100 miles,
that would be 10,000 calories. Your muscles
can store enough glycogen for about 20 miles, but that leaves a shortfall of
roughly 8,000 calories. Stored fat could
easily provide the remaining calories, but your body can’t metabolize it as
fast as you need it. To minimize my
reliance on metabolizing fat, I planned to take in as many calories as I could
in the form of sugars and starches. I’d
get some sugar from the Gatorade I was drinking at the aid stations, but not
nearly enough. To supplement that, I ate
muffins, coffee cake, PBJs, and anything else I could eat and digest quickly.
There were two aid
stations. The main aid station was near
the Normandale Lake Bandshell. Aid
station #2 was near Nine Mile Creek.
Both aid stations had
water and Gatorade. The main aid station
had a wide variety of food. Aid station #2
had a few snacks, like cookies and candy.
Early in the race, they had a lot of starchy snacks at the main aid
station. On nearly every lap, I ate a small
snack and drank a cup of Gatorade. At aid
station 2, I just drank water or Gatorade.
Two hours into the race,
I made my first bathroom stop. After
that, I quickly found myself needing to stop every other lap. I was concerned I might be overhydrating, so
I sometimes skipped aid station 2 and only drank at the main aid station.
During the race, we had
to weigh in every four hours. The medical
volunteers tracked our weight during the race to alert them if someone was
getting dehydrated. Gaining weight during
the race is less common, but would indicate overhydration, which can also be a
problem.
At noon, we had our
first mandatory weigh-in. My weight was
exactly the same as my pre-race weight.
So far, I was drinking the right amount.
In the afternoon, it got warmer, so I resumed drinking Gatorade at both
aid stations.
In the afternoon, it got warm
enough that I could do more walking without getting cold. My original plan was to set a target lap time
of 25 minutes and take long enough walking breaks to keep from going too
fast. Instead, I continued to run half
the lap and walk the other half. I found
that this allowed me to stay focused on the current lap. For half the lap, I only thought about how far
I had to run. For the other half, I only
thought about walking at a brisk pace. I
rarely thought about which lap I was on, how many miles I had run, or how many
hours were left.
My lap times tended to be
22-23 minutes. I knew this was kind of
fast, but I assumed I would gradually slow down as I started walking at a more
casual pace. That never seemed to
happen. I kept walking at a brisk pace
all afternoon and evening.
On most of my laps, I transitioned
from walking to running at the same spot where we started our first lap. I would transition from running back to
walking at aid station #2. That divided
the course into two segments of roughly 1,500 meters. I occasionally made an exception if it gave
me an opportunity to run or walk with someone I knew. More than once, I caught up to John shortly
before getting to aid station #2, so I would
switch to walking early. Then I could
walk with John for the rest of that lap.
There were signs at different
points along the course to let you know when you reached common ultra distances. The first of these signs was 50 kilometers, which
I passed early in my 18th lap. You only
get credit for completed laps, so I wouldn’t officially pass 50 kilometers until
I finished the lap. These signs were
just for our own information.
At 4:00 PM, it was time
to weigh in again. For the second time, my
weight was exactly the same as it was four hour earlier. I pumped my fist and said, “nailed it.” The volunteer at the medical tent said, “You’ve
got it figured out. Keep doing what you’re
doing.” It was actually more complicated
than that. It was a warmer afternoon
than I expected and it was also sunnier than I expected. It would get warmer over the next few hours,
but eventually the sun would set and it would start to cool down. I had to keep adjusting my fluid intake to
the changing conditions.
For most of the past year,
I’ve been plagued by two injuries. The
first was a chronically inflamed right knee.
The other was intermittent lower back discomfort. Going into this race, my back was doing much
better, and I was no longer a concerned about the knee. That’s the good news. The bad news is that I now have two new
problems.
During two of the races
of the New England Challenge, my legs got cold, and I could feel my hamstrings
getting tight. I paced myself cautiously
in those races, because I was afraid of pulling a hamstring. I got through those races OK, but since then
I’ve noticed a sore spot at the top of my left hamstring, where it attaches to
my pelvis. It doesn’t bother me when I’m
running, but I sometimes notice it when I’m walking at a fast pace. I was hoping that it wouldn’t bother me
during the race, but I had to be careful not to walk too aggressively.
My other new problem also
began during the New England Challenge. Every
so often, my left foot would graze my right ankle. I continued to notice that during training
runs after I got home from that series.
I brought this up at my
next physical therapy appointment. My
therapist told me the problem was on my right side. When my weight is on my right foot, the
muscles that should help stabilize me aren’t always doing a good enough
job. I sometimes shift a little to one
side, causing my left leg to swing inward.
She gave me some exercises to strengthen those muscles and also gave me
a few ideas for how to correct it if it happened during the race.
In the past week, I
started doing some run/walk workouts where I paced myself just like I was
planning to during the race. In those
workouts, I never kicked my right ankle.
It seems that I’m less apt to have this problem if I never run for more
than a mile before taking a walking break.
I made it through the
first eight hours pf the race without any issues. In particular, I wasn’t having any problems
with my left foot kicking my right ankle.
Alternating between running and walking seemed to help with that.
I don’t recall when I
first noticed soreness at the top of my left hamstring. It was sometime after the eight hour mark. Thankfully, it never seemed to develop into a
big problem.
It was also shortly after
eight hours that I noticed a few other aches and pains. I started to noticed some minor soreness in
my left quadricep, but only as I was beginning to run down a hill. The section of the course I was running was
the more rolling part of the course.
Eventually, I also started to notice the same soreness going
uphill. In time, I also noticed some
soreness in my right quadricep as well.
That was inevitable. I knew my
legs would eventually get sore. It was just
a matter of time.
I was bothered more by stiffness
on the left side of my neck that I sometimes felt while I was running. I was worried that this would get worse with
time. I tried to relax those muscles and
not always hold my head in exactly the same position. That seemed to work. The stiffness in my neck gradually went away.
It was also a bit
worrisome when I started to feel soreness in my right knee. For some reason, I only felt it when I
transitioned from walking to running.
Then it would go away. In time, I
stopped noticing it completely. I don’t
know if it went away or if I was just tuning it out. You learn to tune out a lot of pain when you’re
running for this many hours. In
particular, you only tend to notice the body parts that are complaining the
loudest.
Halfway through my 28th
lap, I passed the 50 mile sign. It took
me 10 hours and 37 minutes to run the first 50 miles. That gave me well over 13 hours to run the
next 50 miles. I knew I would slow down
in the second half, but it was nice to have that much of a cushion. I really wanted to get to 100 miles.
Whenever a runner reached
a major milestone, the lap counters would ring a bell. Betty was the shift leader of the lap
counters during the second volunteer shift.
When I finished my 28th lap, Betty rang the bell for me.
Food and other supplies
for the race are donated by corporate sponsors.
One of the sponsors is Old Chicago, which provided pizza for the runners
and volunteers. I often have pizza for pre-race
or post-race dinners. At this race, I
can eat a slice of pizza during the race.
The first pizzas arrived while I was on my 50-mile lap. After that lap, I had a slice of pizza. All the slices seemed too large. I didn’t usually eat that much food at
once. I grabbed the smallest slice I
saw, which happened to be pepperoni.
I was halfway to my mileage
goal, but I was planning to run for the whole 24 hours even if I got to 100
miles earlier. I couldn’t tell myself I
was half done until 8:00 PM.
As I was going through tent
city, I caught up to David Shannon, and we started running together. David told me that he had his eye on the RRCA
championship for men over 60 until he saw that I had signed up for the
race. I confirmed that I was also
competing for that award, and I saw him as my principal competition. David was still a lap away from 50
miles. At his current pace, it looked
like he would get to 50 right around the halfway mark. I was currently three laps ahead of him, but
a lot can happen in the second half.
I picked up the pace a
little on my 30th and 31st laps, so I could finish 31 laps before the 12 hour
mark. That left me needing just 24 laps
in the last 12 hours to get to 100 miles.
That meant I just needed to average 30 minutes per lap. Up to this point, I had been averaging just
over 23 minutes per lap, so 30-minute laps seemed pretty easy. Also, after
running 31 laps in the first half, 24 seemed like a manageable number.
At 8:00 PM, we had another
weigh-in. I had been drinking Gatorade
at both aid stations on all my recent laps, so I was surprised to see that my weight
had dropped a pound and a half. The sun
was getting low in the sky now, but it was still fairly warm. To catch up on fluids, I started drinking
both orange juice and Gatorade at the main aid station. I was taking in so much liquid that I couldn’t
even think about eating any more solid food.
Since I was getting extra calories from the orange juice, I didn’t worry
about that. I could resume eating solid
food later in the race when I wasn’t drinking as much.
Pushing the pace a little
in laps 30 and 31 left me a little bit tired as I started my 32nd lap. In that lap, I slowed down, taking 29 minutes. I picked up my pace a little in the next lap,
but now my lap times were all 25 or 26 minutes.
At this point, anything under 30 was fast enough to be on pace for 100.
By 9:00 PM, the sun had set. It wasn’t dark yet, but I put on my headlamp,
so I would be prepared. The race
volunteers placed lamps alongside the course, so it was easy to see the
turns. To see the pavement itself, I
needed a light.
The pavement was pretty
smooth, but there were a few placed where it was patched or a crack had been
sealed. Most runners wouldn’t even
notice these things, but my feet barely clear the ground when I run, so I’m
always looking for anything I could trip on.
In the daylight they were easy to see.
At night, I had to shine my headlamp right in front of me, so I could
look for any bump in the pavement.
This made me feel a
little bit unsteady. I started running
more tentatively. My stride wasn’t as
fluid, which made me wonder if I would be more apt to kick my right ankle with
my left foot. That’s when I realized I
had made it through more than half of the race without kicking myself. I ended up making it through the entire race
without that ever being a problem.
Early in my 35th lap, I
passed the 100 kilometer sign. Because my
lamp was shining down at the pavement, I didn’t actually see the sign. I knew where it was, so I realized when I had
already gone past it. By now, there was a different team of lap
counters. When I finished that lap, I
was expecting the shift leader for the third shift to ring the bell for me. Instead, they told me I would pass 100 kilometers
on my next lap. Initially, I thought I
had been confused about which lap was the 100 kilometer lap.
At 10:00, I asked the
doctor at the medical tent if I could do an unscheduled weigh-in. At first, she said the next weigh-in wasn’t
until midnight. When she realized I just
wanted to weigh myself for my own benefit, she said I could weigh myself any
time and showed me how to turn on the scale.
I regained the pound and a half that I had lost earlier. Now that I was back to my original weight, I
didn’t need to push fluids as much.
By the time I finished my
37th lap, I had figured out that I had just enough time to finish three more
laps before midnight. I got confused, however,
when my lap counter said I had just finished my 36th lap. If I had only finished 36 laps, then three
more would give me 39. That would leave
me needing to run 16 laps in the last eight hours – an average of two laps per
hour.
At 8 PM, I needed to do
24 laps in 12 hours, which is also two laps per hour. Since then, I had been averaging about 26
minutes per lap, which gave me time to finish an extra lap. It didn’t add up right.
When I finished my next
lap, I asked again how many laps I had finished. My lap counter said, “37.” I told him that was wrong, and I asked to look
at the book where they recorded my laps times.
I noticed two of the times were 52 minutes apart. They asked me if I took a break. I told them I didn’t and said that was
actually two laps that were 26 minutes each.
I asked them to do an
audit and they said if there was an extra lap it would show up in the chip timing. When I finished my next lap, they said they
had found the missing lap. After that,
their records were correct.
By midnight, I had
completed 40 laps. Now I just needed to
do 15 laps in the last eight hours. When
I needed 24 more laps, it seemed manageable.
Now, 15 laps seemed like a lot.
The difference is that I was getting much more tired.
I had a reasonable plan for
pacing myself, but I abandoned it. It’s
not like I made a conscious decision to pace myself more aggressively. It happened a little at a time. Instead of using variable-length walking breaks
to slow myself down, I was running half of each lap, without considering if the
pace was sustainable. Instead of easing
back to a more casual walking pace, I continued to walk at a brisk pace. In my last two laps before the 12-hour mark,
I pushed the pace a little. I did the
same thing in the last two laps before midnight. The cumulative result was that I was now
running out of gas. The next eight hours
would be much more difficult as a result.
From here on out, each lap was hell.
The next mandatory
weigh-in was at midnight. I was pleased
to see that my weight was still the same as when I started the race. I got behind on fluids in the late afternoon,
but now I was doing a better job of adjusting my fluid intake to the changing
conditions.
John was nearby, and
informed me he wasn’t feeling well. He was
planning to lie down in the medical tent.
He said he expected to be there for the next two hours. He had 56 miles so far, but it was unclear when
he would get started again.
For most of the race, I
had been relentless about forcing myself to run the same part of the course,
even as it got more tiring, and I started to have more soreness in my quads. After midnight, I reached my tipping
point. I couldn’t keep forcing myself to
do that – not for eight more hours.
I contemplated walking
the rest of the way, but I would be hard-pressed to stay on pace to reach 100
miles. Then I remembered seeing what Sue
Olsen was doing in the 12-hour race. She
was mostly walking, but she ran every downhill segment, no matter how short it
was. I decided to adopt Sue’s
strategy. I walked most of the time, but
I ran some of the downhill sections.
In the dark, it was hard
to see all of the undulations in the course.
I could recognize some of the hills, but not all of the shorter
ones. After a lap or two, I started aiming
my light farther ahead, so I could see when I was going to crest a hill.
Running the downhills
helped, but I was still walking most of the course. I walked as briskly as I could, but it was
all I could do to finish a lap in 30 minutes.
I managed to keep up that pace for several more laps, but I had to walk
as aggressively as I still could. I didn’t
originally plan to do that, and I wasn’t trained for it. I started to feel fatigue across my lower
back.
It was getting so difficult
that I briefly felt like quitting. I had
to remind myself why I was here. My
primary goal was to win the over 60 championship. The only one really competing with me was David
Shannon, but I was now leading him by five laps. That was an insurmountable lead if I just
kept moving. I could’ve slowed down, but
I also wanted to get to 100 miles.
Earlier in the day, I was
asked for advice by someone who was doing his first 24-hour race. I explained how it’s common to go through a “bad
patch” during the night, because you’re fighting your body’s diurnal rhythm. You feel sluggish because you’re trying to be
active at a time of day when you would normally be sleeping. Then I told him that if you can get through
that “bad patch,” you’ll start to feel better when the sun comes up. The important thing is to not give up when you’re
at a low point.
Things weren’t going to
plan, but I followed my own advice. I
forced myself to keep going, and I stayed on pace.
People often ask me if it’s
hard to stay awake during the night. No,
it’s not. I was tired, but I never felt
sleepy, even though I started the race with only a few hours of sleep the night
before. I was extremely tired, but I was
never sleepy.
Earlier in the race, I
had felt some stiffness on the left side of my neck. Now, I felt stiffness in the back of my
neck. This was much more persistent, but
I only noticed it while I was running. I
eventually realized I was tilting my head back a little to aim my light farther
in front of me. When I realized I was
doing this, I adjusted my light. In
time, my neck felt better, but it took several laps.
During the night, there
was a volunteer on a bike doing safety patrols.
Each time he went by me, he asked me how I was doing. One time, I was a little bit too candid, and I said I was struggling. He doubled back to see if I was in
distress. I said it was nothing serious,
just normal 1 AM stuff. After that, when
I was asked how I was doing, I just said, “OK.”
Late in the race, I started
to have a queasy stomach. I wasn’t
drinking as frequently, but I didn’t feel like I had room in my stomach for any
solid food. Even though I wasn’t
drinking much, I started to take more frequent bathroom stops. I had to stop to pee every lap.
At 2:00 AM, I made an
unscheduled weigh-in. I wasn’t sure what
to expect. On one hand, the full stomach
and frequent bathroom stops made me wonder if I was overhydrating. On the other hand, I wasn’t drinking much,
and I often felt thirsty. I wouldn’t be
surprised if I was gaining weight. I
also wouldn’t be surprised if I was losing weight. In fact, my weight was still unchanged. That did surprise me.
At 3:30, I made another
unscheduled weigh-in. I had been forcing
myself to drink at one of the aid stations, but I really wanted to skip a
lap. My weight was still unchanged, so I
felt like it was OK to do that.
The last mandatory weigh-in
was at 4:00. My weight was still unchanged. In the last four hours, I hardly drank
anything at all, yet I had to stop to pee at least once per lap. On a couple laps, I had to pee twice. I couldn’t explain that. My stomach felt a little better, so I finally
forced myself to eat a few bites of solid food.
The only liquid that seemed appealing was soup broth.
By 4:00, I had completed 48
laps. I just needed seven more get to
100 miles. I could no longer finish a lap
in 30 minutes, but I kept it close. I
went into the last four hours with a 33 minute cushion, and I tried to preserve
as much of that as I could. Some laps
took 31 minutes. Some took 32. It chipped into my cushion, but I still had
plenty of margin.
At 5:00, the sun came
up. I saw a beautiful sunrise over the
lake, but I didn’t have a phone or camera with me. This is one of Betty’s pictures.
]
Some of the runners take
breaks during the night. Their friends
and family do too. Once the sun comes up,
everyone still in the race gets back on the course for the last few hours. You also see more friends and family members.
Betty took a nap during
the night, but now I saw her walking around the course taking pictures. I also saw John. He was feeling good enough to leave the
medical tent, but he withdrew from the race. I thought he said earlier that he had 56 miles, but he finished the day with 58.13. I'm not sure if I heard him wrong or if he managed to do one more lap.
I had to focus on one lap
at a time. Each one was difficult, but I
gradually counted them down. Now that
there was plenty of light, I was able to run all of the downhill sections. When I had just two laps to go, I finally
forced myself to run more of the course.
In addition to the downhill sections, I also ran some of the flat
sections.
When I finished my 50th
lap, it was after 7:00. I had the option
of switching to “short laps,” but my lap counter told me I had plenty of time
to finish another lap around the lake. I
was already planning to do that. I
wanted to reach 100 miles on a “big lap.”
I finished one more lap,
and my lap counter rang the bell. I
finished 100 miles with 25 minutes to spare. Then I switched to the short course.
The first short lap is a
little bit longer than the others, because it includes the distance from the
lap counting tent to the area where the short course is marked off. After that, each additional short lap is 1/8
of a mile. I probably could’ve forced myself
to run, but I continued walking. At this
point, it was just a question of how much farther I could go in the remaining
time. I didn’t even have to walk
fast. I could’ve switched to a more
casual walking gait, but I continued to walk with a race-walking gait, even
though I now had a lot of discomfort in my lower back. It was like I forgot how to walk
normally. I was still trying to
race-walk, even though I wasn’t going all that fast.
I eventually completed 10
short laps. That brought my total for
the day to 101.34 miles. For me, the
short laps were anti-climactic, but other people were still pursuing important
goals.
There were five walkers
who were trying to walk 100 miles. Some
made it, some didn’t. For two of them,
it went right down to the wire. They
needed every single short lap to get there, and they didn’t finish their final
short lap until the last two minutes of the race. They each finished with 100.07 miles.
The best runner in the
race by far was Harvey Lewis. All day
long, he was ripping it up. I told John
at the beginning of the race that Harvey would probably lap me two dozen
times. That guess proved to be overly
conservative. Harvey lapped me 25 times. Then he finished one more lap after I was already
on the short course. When Harvey reached
the short course, he was just short of the all-time course
record. He then added 10 short laps, breaking the record and bringing his total to 148.68 miles.
One of the hardest parts
of this event is packing up afterwards. We
didn’t have time to pack up before the post-race breakfast, but I still needed
to change shoes and socks and drain a blister.
I could barely move, so I needed help from John. In addition to the sore muscles in my legs,
my lower back was killing me. During the
race, I felt some soreness in my lower back, but I wasn’t too concerned. I felt it all the way across my back, so I
assumed it was just fatigued muscles.
The discomfort I felt during my short laps was more severe, and I should’ve
paid more attention to it. I’m hoping I
didn’t strain anything.
While John was helping me
change shoes, Betty saved seats for us at the post-race breakfast. She also saved seats for the Centurion
walkers, so we could all sit together.
After breakfast, they had
an awards presentation. They started
with the top finishers in each race.
Then they gave out “directors awards.” Mary, for example, won the Best Campsite award
for her Math Camp tent.
There were three walkers
who became U.S. Centurions for the first time.
They were each given their centurion badges in a special presentation.
The last awards given out
were for the RRCA State Championships. I
won the championship for men over 60.
This is what I came here for, and I put myself though hell to win this.
Some races have belt
buckles. FANS has sweatshirts. Every participant got a T-shirt and a medal,
but those of us who ran or walked at least 100 miles got a sweatshirt. The sleeve says, “100 Miles in 24 Hours.” Over the years, I’ve earned seven of these.
After the awards ceremony,
we still had to walk back to our tent and finish packing. Betty and John had already packed most of their
things, but I still had to pack up all the gear I had brought. Betty and John did the lion’s share of the
work taking down our tent and helped me load the car. By the time I got home, it was already 11:00. I was too sleepy to function, so I didn’t
even try to unload the car. I had to put
that off until I caught up on sleep.
I was still peeing
excessively, even after I got home. I
knew I had some nutritional imbalances. I
also knew from experience that I would gradually get back to normal if I rested
and resumed a normal diet.
I’m more concerned with
my lower back. It may take a few days
before I know how badly I aggravated it. I'm hoping I didn't strain a muscle. In the meantime, I’m taking a few rest days.
During the race, there were lots of things going through
my head. In the last eight hours, each
lap was an emotional roller-coaster, and I could’ve written a story about each
one of them. After the race, however, my
brain was mush, and I couldn’t remember much.
I took my time writing this, to give myself a chance to remember. I’m sure I’m still leaving a lot out.
Race statistics:
Distance: 101.34 miles
Time: 24 hours
Average pace: 14:13
Lifetime Marathons/Ultras: 456
Minnesota Marathons/Ultras: 85
Lifetime 100s: 14
Lifetime FANS Miles: 1142.64
