Monday, June 6, 2022

Race Report: 2022 FANS 24-Hour Race

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.

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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





































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