Race Report: 2018 Manitoba Marathon

On June 17th, I ran the Manitoba Marathon in Winnipeg.  I’ve traveled to Canada several times, and I’ve been to six provinces, but this was my first marathon in Canada.

This race was only two weeks after my exhausting effort at the FANS 24-Hour Race, and I had doubts about being sufficiently recovered for another all-out effort.  Since that race, I’ve gradually eased back into both running and walking.  My last three races were all-out walking efforts, so I felt more comfortable running this race.  

The drive time from Minneapolis to Winnipeg is about eight hours.  I wasn’t sure how much time to allow for crossing the border, so I spread the driving over two days.  On Friday, I drove to Fargo, ND, which was about half way.

When I got to Fargo, I discovered I forgot to load one of my bags into the car.  It was the bag with my running shoes.  This wasn’t the first time I’ve done that, but it only happens when I’m driving to a race.  It’s more obvious if you’re missing a bag when you fly.

It was already mid-afternoon, so I didn’t have time to go back and get it.  I called Deb to find out what else was in that bag, so I wouldn’t have any surprises when I got to Winnipeg.  Besides my running shoes, it also had my SpiBelt, fanny pack, and a few things I could live without.

The shoes I use for everyday wear are running shoes, but they’re older and have quite a bit of wear on them.  In a pinch, I could wear them for the race, but then I wouldn’t be able to change into a dry pair after the race.  I actually had two pairs of shoes in the missing bag.  I was going to use the other pair to do a few walking workouts.

There was a Scheel’s Sporting Goods store a few blocks from my hotel.  They had the model of running shoes I wear, and they had my size.  Unfortunately, they didn’t have the type of replacement insoles I need to be able to fit my orthotics in the shoes.  I bought the shoes and had to use the same insoles for both my new running shoes and the old everyday pair.  It wasn’t an ideal solution, but the insoles don’t get as sweaty as the shoes, and they dry faster.

I also bought a Nathan Mirage Pak, which is similar to a SpiBelt.  I needed that to hold my cars keys and hotel room card while I was running.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t big enough to also carry a camera. For that, I would have needed my fanny pack.

When I got back to the hotel, I walked a few miles on the treadmill in my new shoes.  The more times I wore them before the race, the more opportunities I would have to adjust the laces for an optimal fit.  After a quick shower, I had dinner and got some sleep.

Saturday morning, I drove the rest of the way to Winnipeg.  At the border crossing, there was a long line of trucks waiting to cross, but the line for cars wasn’t too bad.  It took between 10 and 15 minutes.  For the rest of the drive, I had to mentally adjust to speed limits that were posted in kilometers per hour.  I got to Winnipeg just in time for lunch.

The race starts and finishes on the campus of the University of Manitoba, which is on the south side of the city.  The entire university is closed to traffic the morning of the race, so you can’t drive to the start.  Instead, they had several park and ride locations where you could catch a bus to the start.  I stayed at a hotel that was about two kilometers from one of the park and ride locations.

After checking in, I drove to the university to pick up my race packet at Investors Group Athletic Centre.  The expo was on the small side.  I could easily have found a belt to hold my keys, but I wouldn’t have been able to buy the shoes I usually wear.  I’m glad I went shopping in Fargo rather than waiting.

The race shirt was a long sleeved shirt with a hood.  I like getting race shirts that are different from the usual T-shirts.

After the expo, I did more walking to break in my shoes.  I probably should have gone sightseeing, but I wasn’t near the downtown area, and I didn’t feel like driving anywhere.  After spending hours on the road, I just wanted to stay close to the hotel.

For dinner, I went to the pizza place closest to my hotel.  It turned out to be a pleasant surprise.  My first impression was that it looked like food court mall pizza.  They actually had good gourmet pizza and a selection of local craft beers.

I don’t usually eat much breakfast before a race, but I like to eat something.  My race packet included a Honey Stinger waffle biscuit.  Along with a cup of tea, that was just enough so I could start the race without feeling hungry.

The race started at 7:00, but they strongly recommended getting to the park and ride lot no later than 5:45.  I got up early enough to get there before 5:30, which was when the buses started leaving.

The bus dropped us off in front of Investors Group Field.  This is a fairly new football stadium, which is home to both the University of Manitoba and the Winnipeg Blue Bombers CFL team.

We were able to go inside the stadium while we were waiting for the race to start.  That meant an abundance of real bathrooms, and plenty of seating.  While I was waiting, I bumped into several runners I knew.  A few were Canadian runners I met at races in the United States.  Other I met in places as far away as Austria.

After dropping off my gear bag, posing for a group picture, and making a final bathroom stop, I went outside to line up for the start.

Temperatures were in the 60s with mostly sunny skies.  For me, that’s ideal.  I didn’t have to worry about being too cold.

My only goal for this race was to finish.  I planned to run at a pace that was within my comfort zone.  They had pace groups led by “pace rabbits.”  The pace rabbits wore pink bunny ears.  I regretted not having my camera with me, but there wasn’t room for it in my belt.

I saw pace groups for 3:50, 4:00, and 4:15.  3:50 seemed too fast.  I lined up between the 4:00 and 4:15 pace groups.  When the race started, I went out of my way to run at a pace that felt easy.

When I saw the 1 kilometer sign, I had to resist the temptation to look at my watch.  I decided to run by feel.  I wanted to stay in my comfort zone and not look at my watch until the halfway mark.

At 2 kilometers, I saw a large group of runners suddenly take a walking break.  It was the 4:00 pace group.  I kept running at an easy pace and moved ahead of them.

The Manitoba Marathon has been an annual event since 1979.  This year was the 40th race.  I saw a few runners wearing signs on their backs that read, “I ran in 1979.”  I also saw a few runners with signs saying, “I’m 40 too.”

At 3 kilometers, we crossed the Red River.  We had a good view of the river, but we weren’t close enough to get a view of downtown Winnipeg yet.

As we finished crossing the bridge, I saw a 2 mile sign.  After that, there were signs for every mile, but kilometers were only marked in 5K increments.

I noticed some congestion ahead of me.  I caught up to the 3:50 pace group.  I slowed down and made a point of staying behind them, so I wouldn’t go too fast.

Soon we reached an aid station, and it was harder to spot the 3:50 pace group.  I tried to stay behind them, but they were on the opposite side of the street.  I was looking straight ahead and lost sight of them.  By the end of the 3rd mile, I realized I had slipped ahead of them.

Between 4 and 5 miles, the marathon and relay separated from the half marathon.  After that, the course was less crowded.  We were getting spaced far enough apart that I had to resist my subconscious tendency to speed up and close the gap.  The next time I reached an aid station, I walked for several seconds while drinking a cup of Gatorade.  I did that to settle myself down and remind myself that I was just taking it easy in this race.

We were near the east bank of the Red River, but rarely saw it until about 7 miles.  Then we came alongside the river and got great views.

As I came within sight of the 8 mile sign, I heard a spectator shouting something.  All I caught was the word “mile.”  At first, I thought he was telling us we were almost to the mile marker.  Then I saw multicolored chalk writing in the street that said, “Mimosa Mile.”  That’s what he was saying.  I diverted to the left side of the street to pick up a mimosa.  In various races, I’ve had beer, Jell-O shots, martinis, and Fireball shots, but this was the first time I’ve had a mimosa during a race.  I was clearly just going at an easy pace and having fun.

Before the race, a friend who has done this race before told me the course is fairly flat.  He said there’s a bridge and a couple underpasses, but that’s it.  As we entered the downtown area, we crossed two bridges.  One of them had a little bit of an arch to it, but it was no big deal.  It occurred to me that it was the first thing you could really call a hill.  This course is flatter than the Berlin Marathon, and it might be flatter than the Chicago Marathon.  Those are both courses where World Records have been set.

When I reached the 10 mile sign, it seemed like the miles were just flying by.  I still felt fresh.  That’s how you’re supposed to feel at 10 miles, but I rarely do.  Usually, I start too fast, and I’m already feeling somewhat tired after 10 miles.

I was planning to check my time at the halfway mark, but it wasn’t marked.  It was too late to check my time at 13 miles, so I had to wait for the 14 mile sign.  I got there in 1:59:40.  I assumed my halfway split must have been close to 1:51.  That really surprised me.  That was only about a minute slower than a Boston qualifying pace.  That made me think.

I already had a qualifier for next year’s Boston Marathon, but that was on a downhill course.  It had been more than three years since I last qualified on a course that wasn’t downhill.  Could I make up that minute in the last 12 miles?  It seemed like a worthwhile goal, but I would have to fight for it for 12 miles.  I didn’t know if I was willing to put myself through that.  I had promised myself a nice easy race.

I made a conscious decision to stay within my comfort zone for at least a few more miles.  Subconsciously, I seemed to make a different decision.  I found myself started to reel in and pass the runners ahead of me.

At 15 miles, I checked my watch again.  I ran that mile in 8:13.  That was a Boston qualifying pace, but I wasn’t sure if it was fast enough to make up my deficit.  I decided to work harder in the next mile and then make a decision.  For most of the race, I had been walking briefly while drinking Gatorade.  No more.  Those seconds mattered now.

At 16 miles, I got my answer.  That mile was faster than 8 minutes.  That was certainly fast enough if I could keep up that pace for the rest of the race, but I still had 10.2 miles to go.  I didn’t know if the effort was sustainable.

In the next mile, I felt like I eased up a bit.  I was running harder than I did in the first half of the race, but maybe not as hard as the previous mile.  Then a runner passed me.  He was a relay runner, and we had recently passed a relay exchange point.  He had fresh legs and was starting his relay leg fast.  I knew I shouldn’t read too much into it, but it shook my confidence just a bit.  Then another relay runner passed me.

The 17 mile sign came much sooner than I expected.  I checked my watch.  It was another sub 8 mile.  The 18th mile also seemed to pass quickly.

I still had 8.2 miles to go.  I was maintaining a fast enough pace, but it was taking something out of me.  At some point, if I could keep up this pace, the remaining distance would seem short enough that I would know I could do it.  On the other hand, I was started to get heavy legs.  At some point, I would run out of gas.  Which would happen first?  That was the real race.

I was encouraged by how quickly the miles seemed to be flying by.  I promised myself the next mile would also fly by quickly.  That was a mistake.

I reached an underpass.  At first it was downhill.  Then it was uphill.  I felt the soreness in my legs as I began climbing.  Then we ran up a cloverleaf ramp to get onto the bridge we just ran under.  This actually felt like a hill, but mainly because I was fatigued.  As I crossed the bridge, I saw we would run downhill again on the other side.  That was a relief.

It occurred to me that it had been a long time since I saw a mile marker.  Where was the 19 sign?  I expected to see it by now.

After the next turn, I saw a sign, but it wasn’t 19.  It read 7 miles.  Evidently, we had merged back into the half marathon course, but the half marathon runners passed here a long time ago.  Not only did I miss the 19 mile sign, but I apparently also missed the 20 mile sign.  I had mixed feelings.  On one hand, it was nice to know that I had knocked off two more miles.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see my splits, and it would be almost another mile before I reached the 21 sign.

I didn’t know how fast I was running, but I kept up my effort.  I was passing other runners.  That was a good sign.

As I saw the 21 mile sign in the distance, I figured out what my time should be if I was still doing each mile in 8 minutes.  When I got there I saw those three miles were under an 8 minute pace by a total of 25 seconds.  I was encouraged, but I still wasn’t to the point where I knew I had it.  With 5.2 miles to go, I wouldn’t have to slow down that much to fall off the pace.

I was starting to get hot.  It was sunny now, and the temperature was climbing closer to 70 degrees.  Most of the course was well-shaded, but the late miles had more sun exposure.  My clothes were soaked with sweat.

I started to wonder when I would be able to see the stadium.  The superstructure is tall enough to be visible from several miles away.

I kept up my effort, one mile at a time.  The next mile was also faster than 8 minutes.  With 4.2 miles to go, I needed to average 8:30.  I wasn’t confident yet.

I could no longer run while drinking Gatorade.  The cups were too full for that.  I resumed walking while drinking.  Then I started skipping some of the aid stations.  They seemed to be more frequent than necessary, and I only had a few miles to go.

I knocked off another 8 minute mile.  Now I only needed average 8:40.  I liked my chances, but I didn’t feel like I was home free yet.  Then I ran my fastest mile of the race.  Mile 24 was 7:47.  With 2.2 miles to go, I only needed to average 9:15.  Boom!  I knew I had it.  I had to keep up my effort, but I knew I wouldn’t slow down that much.

Toward the end of the next mile, I recognized a bridge we had crossed early in the race.  I knew it was just a little more than two kilometers to go.  Right on cue, I saw the 40 kilometer sign.  Annoyingly, I still couldn’t see the stadium.

Halfway across the bridge, I reached the 25 mile sign.  I knocked off my 11th consecutive sub 8 minute mile.  Finally, I could see part of the stadium over the trees.

In the last mile, I could afford to ease up a little, but I kept pushing as hard as I could.  As we got closer to the stadium, I tried to figure out where we would enter the stadium.  I was hotter than ever now.  That was my only concern at this point.

We made a sharp right turn in front of the stadium.  A volunteer said we had 500 meters to go.  After two more quick turns, I headed down a ramp toward the stadium entrance.  I felt a cool breeze.  I wasn’t hot any more.

I ran through the tunnel and onto the football field.  I still had to run across the end zone, turn right, and run up the sideline to midfield.  I was overjoyed when I saw the clock.  I finished in 3:35:56.  That’s a BQ by four minutes. 

It was only after the race that I realized my rid-race arithmetic was off.  My halfway split was actually about 1:52, which means I needed to make up two minutes in the second half.  Had I known that, I might not have tried.  I ran negative splits by roughly eight minutes!

The finisher medal was surprisingly large.  I don’t know if they’re always this big or if it was because it’s the 40th year.

For people running the full marathon, the recovery area was right next to the finish line.  I got some recovery food and quickly retrieved my gear bag.  Then I saw the massage tables.  I put my name on the list.  There were three people in the queue ahead of me, but they were ready for me before I even finished my chocolate milk.

After the massage, I started looking for the exit, so I could make my way to where I needed to catch a bus back to the park and ride.  This was the cruel part.  We had to walk up all the stadium steps.  Then we had to go almost all the way around the stadium to get to the correct gate.

When I got outside, a bus was loading.  The buses were efficient.  I was back to the park and ride in minutes.  Then I just had to drive about a mile to get back to the hotel.

After showering, I hopped in the hot tub.  Then I took another shower to rinse off the chlorine.  When I was ready, I went out for some well-deserved post-race pizza.  It was already my fifth pizza meal this trip.  I haven’t ruled out having pizza again for dinner.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll drive home.  This time, I’m doing the whole drive in one day.  On the way to Winnipeg, I had to worry about arriving in time for packet pickup.  Going home, I don’t have that concern.  If it takes a long time to cross the border, then I’ll just get home later.

I already had a Boston qualifier for 2019, but next October I need to start working on getting a qualifier for 2020.  My last three qualifiers were all on downhill courses.  I don’t want to keep doing that.  Next year, I want to qualify on a flat course.  It’s nice to know that I’m now in good enough shape to do that.

I’ve run fewer than 500 miles this year, and none of that has been speed work.  I seem to be getting into pretty good shape for running just on the strength of my race-walking.

Race Statistics

Distance:  26.2 miles

Time:  3:35:56

Average Pace:  8:14 per mile

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  355

Countries:  30

Race Report: 2018 FANS 24 Hour Race

On June 2-3, I walked the FANS 24 Hour Race in Minneapolis.  I’ve done FANS ten times before.  I did the 24 hour race seven times, the 12 hour race twice, and the 6 hour race once.  On all of those occasions, I ran.  This was the first time I registered as a walker.

The FANS races have always had walking divisions.  Over the years, the races have become more and more competitive.  With the addition of a USATF race-walking judge, it became possible for walkers to earn a Centurion Racewalker badge by walking 100 miles within the 24 hour time limit.  Sometimes competitive walkers travel from other countries to attempt 100 miles at FANS.

When I ran the FANS 24 Hour Race in 1998, it was my first ultramarathon.  I immediately fell in love with the race.  Last summer, John Greene – who often crews for me – reminded me that this year would be the 20th anniversary of that race.  At the time, I was still recovering from back surgery, so I couldn’t do any running.  I was intrigued by the idea of walking FANS, but only if I thought I had a realistic chance of walking 100 miles.  John has walked this race several times, and I’ve also crewed for him.  I followed his progress as he kept setting new course records for walking, until he eventually reached 100 miles.  I knew it wasn’t an easy thing to do.

Last August, I walked a marathon in 5:21:57.  That was just eight weeks after surgery.  I told myself, “If I could make that much progress in just eight weeks, imagine what I could do if I kept at it for 10 more months.”  That’s when I decided that walking 100 miles at FANS was feasible.

I knew I could walk fast for distances up to a marathon, but maintaining a brisk pace for 24 hours is another story.  To reach 100 miles in 24 hours, I needed to maintain an average pace of 14:24 per mile.  That may sound easy, but it includes the time I take for eating, drinking, bathroom stops, required weigh-ins, and clothing changes.  Realistically, I probably needed to be able to walk at a 13:30 pace and have it feel effortless, even after several hours.

I didn’t have any experience training for an event like this, but it seemed like the most important thing was to do as much walking as possible.  I wanted to get really comfortable at a pace that was about a minute per mile faster than the pace I needed to sustain at FANS.  I was already averaging 10 miles per day.  From there, I ramped up my mileage by roughly 10 percent each month.

In 1999, Danny Ripka ran 136.01 miles at FANS.  At the time, that was a course record.  Danny said his training included “20 a day for May.”  That seemed like an insane number of miles to be running, but walking is much easier on your body.  When I was doing 10 miles a day, I never felt sore, stiff or tired.  Every morning, I woke up feeling fresh as a daisy.  20 miles a day seemed feasible.  At the rate I was ramping up, I had just enough time to get there by May.

That’s it.  My entire training plan was based on a whim.  I wanted to do “20 a day for May,” just like Danny.  It took me nine months to gradually ramp up to that level, but I did it.

Physically, 20 miles a day was manageable, but I no longer felt fresh as a daisy.  I was starting to accumulate some minor aches and pains.  Psychologically, it was much tougher.  I usually split up my mileage into three workouts.  Including the time to get ready for each workout and the time to cool down and shower afterwards, it seemed like all I did was train.  From breakfast to dinner, seven days a week, I didn’t have time for much else.

I did most of my training at paces ranging from 12 to 13 minutes per mile.  I tried to never get any slower than 14.  In races, I could push myself much faster.  Over the course of the last year, I walked 11 marathons, a 10K, a 5K, and a mile.  By the end of April, I was able to average 10:40 per mile for a marathon.

My longest walk was the Darkside 8 Hour Race, which was three weeks before FANS.  In that race, I averaged 12:31 per mile on a 90 degree sunny day.  On the plus side, I never got any slower than 13 minutes per mile.  On the negative side, I was completely spent after eight hours.  I knew I had to pace myself more conservatively at FANS.

The FANS course is a 2.14 mile loop around Snelling Lake in Fort Snelling State Park.  The park is in the Minnesota River valley, just below historic Fort Snelling.

The park is close to the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport.  It’s so close that part of the course goes directly underneath the towers that hold the runway lights.

About half of the loop is paved.  The other half is dirt trail.

Near the main aid station, there’s an area where the participants can set up tents and have all their gear handy.

Even though this was a local race, I had a packing list that took two pages.  It’s like packing for a camping trip.  In addition to multiple pairs of running shoes, spare running clothes and rain gear, I needed a tent, folding chairs, a card table, bug spray, sunblock, Aquaphor, electrolyte pills, headlamp, flashlights, and a whole assortment of stuff that I might or might not need.  For a race like this, I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.  To save time on race day, I had most of my gear loaded into the car on Friday.

Late Friday afternoon, I went to the Waite House in Minneapolis for packet pickup and the pre-race dinner.  While I was there, I was able to meet some of the other walkers.

I wasn’t the only one aiming to walk 100 miles in this race.  There were six experienced Centurions registered.  They included Marco Bloemerts, Arie Kandelaars, and Gertrude Achterberg from the Netherlands, Andrew Titley from the Isle of Man, Rob Robertson from Oklahoma, and John Greene from Minnesota.  Marco, Arie, Gertrude, and Andrew each had Centurion badges from other countries and were here to get a US Centurion badge.  Rob got his first Centurion badge at FANS three years ago.  He has since earned badges in other counties, but came back to earn a second US Centurion badge at FANS.  John was registered, but wasn’t trying for another Centurion badge.  He was crewing for me, but was also planning to walk at least 51 miles.  John and I are each working on eventually getting into the FANS 1,000 mile club.

The race didn’t start until 8:00, but I got up at 4:00, so I could eat an early breakfast, get to the park early, unload the car, and set up our tent.  We had a new tent this year.  A week before the race, we practiced putting it up in our back yard.  It goes up quickly.  Taking it down is a bit more involved, but that was a problem for after the race.

After setting up the tent, changing shoes, and shedding my warm-up clothes, I went over to the medical tent to check in and get weighed.  During the race, everyone had to weigh in every four hours.  By monitoring our weight, the medical staff could tell if we were hydrating properly.

FANS used to be held on the last weekend of June.  It was always hot and humid, and in any given year, there was about a 50 percent chance of a thunderstorm.  Several years ago, they moved the race to the first weekend of June.  On average, the temperatures have been more comfortable, but it’s still possible to get a hot day.  Thunderstorms, unfortunately, are still something you have to plan for.

In the weeks leading up to this race, we had unseasonably hot weather.  On Memorial Day, it got up to 100 degrees.  I had been worried about hot, humid conditions, but race day brought a completely different set of concerns.  The forecast high was only 65 degrees, with rain and thunderstorms in the forecast for the entire day.   A little light rain on a hot day might feel good, but it wasn’t hot, and too much rain can make the trail muddy.  Thunderstorms make everything more complicated.

I was hoping to wear the same clothes for the whole race, but had spare clothes, including a light jacket and a rain poncho.  Ideally, I also wanted to do the whole race in the same pair of shoes, but I brought two spare pairs.  I also brought extra pairs of socks.  I was worried about getting gravel in my shoes, so I wore gaiters.

Before the race started, I made a point of meeting my lap counter for the first shift.  Laps are all counted manually by volunteers.  It’s good to know who your lap counter is, so you can make sure they see you as you finish each lap.

Before the first full lap, we did an out-and-back that was about 1.7 miles.  The purpose of the out-and-back was to align the 100 mile mark with the end of a lap.  100 miles has always been a common goal for 24-hour runners.  In recent years, it has also been a common goal for walkers.

I wanted to start the race at a pace somewhere between 13:00 and 13:30 per mile.  That corresponds roughly with lap times between 28 and 29 minutes.

I did the out-and-back in 22 minutes, which corresponds to a pace of 13 minutes per mile.  My first few full laps were about 27:45.  That’s a little faster than I planned to start, but not outrageous.  I eventually settled into lap times that were averaging 28 minutes.

There were two aid stations per lap.  Each time I reached an aid station, I had something to drink.  About once an hour, I also had something to eat.  Over the course of the race, I ate cookies, candy, tea breads, cake and PBJs.  I tended to go for sugary snacks that I could eat quickly.

John walked with me for the first four laps.  Then he took a break while I walked my next two laps.  He repeated this pattern for the first half of the race.  Later, John switched to walking two laps and then resting during my next two.

Most of the walkers who were going for Centurion badges started at about the same pace.  In the early laps, I could see Marco, Arie, and Gertrude just ahead of me.  Andrew was going faster, and quickly got too far ahead for me to see him.  Rob lined up behind us, so I didn’t see him, but I assume he was never far behind me.

To keep from going out too fast, I made a point of staying behind Arie and Gertrude, who were walking together.

In this picture of Marco, you can see Bruce Leasure wearing the blue jacket.  Bruce was the USATF race-walk judge.  He walked the course in the opposite direction, so he could see the walkers as many times as possible.

About two hours into the race, I noticed a few rain drops.  Then it stopped.  After a few false starts, it turned into a steady light rain.  I wasn’t sure if it was just a passing shower, so I kept wearing the same clothes.  After about an hour, the rain stopped.

The rain actually seemed to improve the trail conditions.  Before the race, the dirt was somewhat loose.  The rain, in combination with people running and walking on it, helped pack down the dirt.  After that, the trail was fairly firm.

There were loose rocks on the trail.  I found them to be incredibly uncomfortable for walking.  When I stepped on a rock, it sometimes made my shoe roll in an unusual way.  Within four hours, I already had painful blisters on the heels of both feet.  Heel blisters are a common problem when I walk, but usually only when it’s hot or I’m going fast.  It was worrisome that I was feeling so much blister pain so early in the race.  I still had 20 hours to go.  At this point, I was pessimistic about being able to cope with blister pain that I assumed would only get worse.

At noon, we had our first required weigh-in.  My weight was up half a pound.  It could have simply been the weight of my wet shoes, but I was making frequent bathroom stops, so I concluded I was drinking too much.  I cut back temporarily to only drinking at the main aid station and skipping the one on the opposite side of the loop.

Eventually, I realized that cutting my fluid intake meant I was also cutting my sugar intake.  I was counting on getting most of my calories from Gatorade.  Instead of eating snacks once per hour, I started eating them every lap.

In the early afternoon, we had another rain shower.  This one also lasted about an hour.  Puddles started forming on the road.  The trail was dry enough before the race that it was able to absorb most of the water, but a few muddy spots formed.

I was still stopping to pee every two or three laps.  I told John I would alternate between 28 and 29 minutes laps, depending on whether they included bathroom stops.  I didn’t stick to that.  At some point, Arie and Gertrude stopped at the main aid station, and I inadvertently got ahead of them.  With nobody holding me back, I started to get overzealous in my pacing.  On my non-bathroom laps, I sometimes went faster to make up the lost time.

At 4 PM, we had our second weigh-in.  My weight was back to where it started, even though my shoes were still wet.  I was able to go up to five laps between bathroom stops, so I went back to drinking at every aid station.  Eventually, I found myself making more frequent bathroom stops again, but I waited for the next weigh-in before making any more adjustments.

John heard that a thunderstorm was coming.  I felt a few drops, but then it stopped.  Then the sun came out.  The thunderstorm passed north of us.  That was a relief.  I don’t think the trail could have absorbed any more water.

Between 4 and 8 PM, my lap times started to drift.  I slowed to 29 minutes.  Some laps took almost 30 minutes.  I found myself suddenly needing to work much harder to walk the same pace.  I also realized that I was no longer noticing the blister pain.  I had two possible theories for that.  The first is that I was subconsciously altering my stride to avoid making contact with my heels, particularly on the trail section of the course.  A shorter stride would make me work harder to go the same pace.  My second theory was that I was pushing harder to maintain my pace, so I was generating more endorphins.  Endorphins are natural pain killers.

I was getting the sense that I was putting in too much effort to maintain my pace.  I didn’t think this effort would be sustainable for the rest of the race.  I wanted to relax and allow myself to slow down a little, but I was afraid.  What if endorphins were suppressing the blister pain?  If I relaxed, I risked turning off the endorphin spigot.  That in turn, could turn on the pain spigot.  I wasn’t willing to risk that.  Instead, I risked blowing up badly in the second half by going too fast.  I was more worried about intense blister pain making it difficult for me to continue through the night.  I continued to push the pace on every lap.

I was 40 miles into the race when it occurred to me that I had already set a new PR for longest distance walked.  I couldn't be satisfied with that.  I couldn't settle for anything less than 100.

At least twice during the race, pizza was delivered.  After my 21st lap, I had a small slice of pizza.

I wanted to do 53 miles in the first 12 hours.  I ended up doing 53.75.  That gave me a nice cushion, but I was concerned about how much effort I was putting into each lap.

At the 8 PM weigh-in, my weight was up a pound and a half.  I went back to only drinking at the main aid station.  I was reluctant to cut back any more than that.  My body was sending me mixed signals.  On one hand, I was back to making bathroom stops every other lap.  On the other hand, I felt thirsty.

Objectively, it seemed obvious that I was overhydrating, but it was hard to see how that was happening.  Whenever I drank, I looked for the cup that was least full.  I seldom drank more than four ounces at a time.  That added up to only eight ounces per hour.  When I peed, it seemed like I was passing much more fluid than I was drinking.  Where was it coming from?

In the second half of the race, I had to start setting intermediate milestones.  When I passed 57 miles, I could tell myself I walked my age in miles.  I’ve run my age several times, but this was the first time I walked my age.  The next intermediate milestone was 100K.

By now, I was starting to feel slightly out of breath whenever I ate solid food.  Chewing took too much energy.  The fatigue was taking a toll on me.

At 9 PM, I put on my headlamp.  The race volunteers had already set up lamps along most of the course, but they didn’t illuminate the entire course.  On the trail, you really need a headlamp, but the lamps were still useful.  They gave me perspective.  I could see when the trail started bending to the left or right.  That gave me a good feel for where I was.

One of the traditions at FANS is that the lap counters ring a cowbell whenever someone reaches a milestone like 50 miles or 100K.  After my 23rd lap, I got my 50 mile cowbell.  I was looking forward to hearing the cowbell again when I reached 100K, but they forgot to ring it.  I was momentarily disappointed, but I didn’t let it bother me.

The trail section had a number of uneven spots, where the soil was bumpy.  At night, I didn’t always see them, so I often scuffed my foot over one.  That was uncomfortable, and it also caused me to waste energy.

With the trail section getting more tiring, I worked harder and harder to compensate.  I took things one lap at a time.  In each lap, I worked as hard as I could to maintain the pace on the trail section.  The road section was much easier.  There I worked hard to pick up my pace to compensate for slowing down on the trail section.  I knew my effort was unsustainable, but I was trying to keep my lap times under 30 minutes for as long as I could.

At some point, I could no longer keep my lap times below 30 minutes.  That’s OK.  John calculated that I only needed to average 33:20 per lap the rest of the way.  If I could do a lap in 30:20, I was putting three more minutes in the bank.

For the rest of the race, my pace gradually deteriorated, but the pace I needed to average was also getting slower.  By the time I slowed to 31 minutes, I only needed to average 34:10.  By the time I slowed to 32 minutes, I only needed to average 35.  That trend continued and eventually accelerated as there were fewer and fewer laps.

At midnight, my weight was unchanged, so I continued to drink at only the main aid station.  I cut back to only eating snacks every other lap.  I was taking too long to finish eating snacks, and it caused me to start each lap at a slow pace.

During the night, I really hated walking on the trail.  It helped that John was with me on half of my laps.  John wondered if he was slowing me down.  I was slowing down, but it wasn’t John’s fault.  I was running out of gas.

I loved walking on the paved part of the course.  If I could do the whole race on smooth pavement, I could easily keep up the pace.  It was the uneven trail surface that was wearing me down.

When I only had 12 laps to go, I could tell myself that it was less than a marathon to go, and I still had seven hours to do it.  That should have made it seem manageable, but it didn’t.  Instead, I just counted down the laps.  Twelve laps didn’t seem like that many, but I was now putting a heroic effort into each one.  I had been doing that for several hours already.  I didn’t seem like I should be able to keep doing that, but I walked every lap as if it were my last.  I’m not sure how I kept up that effort.  I’ve never pushed myself so hard in a race.

At the final weigh-in, my weight was up another pound.  I was clearly overhydrating, but I didn’t want to stop drinking entirely.  I was getting the majority of my calories from the Gatorade, and I needed that fuel.

I was relieved when the sun came up.  Finally, I could see all parts of the trail clearly.  I was able to do a better job of avoiding the various bumps and slick spots.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid all the rocks.  They were all over the trail.

After sunrise, the wind really picked up.  The temperature had dropped into the low 50s, and the wind made it feel like 40s.  I had to put on a light jacket for my last three laps.

With three laps to go, I had to make a bathroom stop – the long kind.  I lost a few minutes, but more importantly my legs were stiff when I resumed walking.  Despite the stop, that was a 36 minute lap.  At this point, I only needed to average 39.

I never saw Rob, but he was just behind me when I made that last bathroom stop.  While I was in the bathroom, he passed me.

Andrew was the first walker to reach 100 miles, getting there in 22:27:32.  On his final lap, he wore the flag of the Isle of Man.  He went on to complete 106.8 miles.  That’s a new course record for a walker.

I pressed on through one more lap on my own, and then John joined me for the last two.  On those two laps, I only needed to average 44 minutes per lap.  I managed 34.  As I finished my 46th lap, I reached the 100 mile mark and got to hear the cowbell again.  I got there in 23:39:33.

In the last hour of the race, we can switch to a quarter mile out-and-back course.  Three of the other walkers had already reached 100 miles and were adding on as much additional mileage as they could.  Arie was still working on getting to 100 miles.  He made it with less than 10 minutes to spare.

I was still trying to walk fast, but I couldn’t do it anymore.  Despite my best efforts, a 15 minute mile was the best I could manage.  I ended up doing four quarter mile laps, bringing my total to 101 miles.  I probably had time to do one more lap, but I wasn’t paying close enough attention to my pace, and I didn’t want to start another lap if I might not have time to finish it.

After the race, my blister pain came back with a vengeance.  When I was working hard, I generated enough endorphins to suppress the pain.  Now, I could barely walk.  Soreness in my calf muscles also made it difficult to walk.  I needed to make another bathroom stop, but it was difficult to walk to the bathroom.

The wind was cold, so I needed to get something on my legs.  With John’s help, I managed to pull on a pair of wind pants over my shoes.  I knew if I took the shoes off I would never get them on again.

After everyone packed up their tents, we had a post-race breakfast on a patio near the start/finish area.  That was followed by an awards ceremony.  In addition to awards for the top finishers and various directors’ awards, they give sweatshirts to anyone who completes 100 miles in 24 hours.  This year, 12 people reached 100 miles.  Five of them were walkers.

Throughout the breakfast and awards, I felt borderline sick.  I wasn’t nauseous, but I felt like I was somehow off.  I’m sure my body chemistry was messed up.  I also found it increasingly difficult to move.  Now, every muscle in my legs was sore.  In addition, I had sore muscles in my arms, shoulders and upper back.  My vigorous arm swing stressed my upper body as much as the brisk walking stressed my legs.

This was the 12th time I’ve covered at least 100 miles in a race, and it was the eighth time I’ve done it in 24 hours.  It was only the first time I did it walking the whole way.

I was one of four walkers to earn their first US Centurion badge.  Based on our order of finish, I became the 91st US Centurion.

When the other walkers learned that I’ve also run this race, they asked me which was more difficult.  There’s no question that walking 100 miles in 24 hours is much more difficult than running 100 miles.  This is by far the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life.  There were times during the race when I didn’t think I could continue all night.  There were times when I wanted to quit.  There were times when I wanted to slow down and just walk at a casual pace for the rest of the race.  I knew if I did that I wouldn’t get to 100 miles.

I started training for this race last August.  In recent months, I spent so much time training that I didn’t have time for anything else.  There were other races I wanted to do, but I skipped them if I thought they would disrupt my training.  I was all in on getting my Centurion badge.  It’s common to fail on the first try, but I didn’t want to spend another year training for a second try.  I also didn’t want to endure this much pain and fatigue again.

Knowing that I like to travel to other countries to race, John and Rob each asked me if I would start doing Centurion races in other countries.  I admire the other walkers who have done that, but I think I’m one and done.

Race Statistics

Distance:  101 miles

Time:  24 hours

Average Pace:  14:15

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  354

Lifetime 100s:  12

Lifetime FANS Miles:  933.5