Here is the report from the event…By Marc Friesen, Event Director
Trans-Kansas by the numbers
1 - Bruised
paw
7 -
Counties crossed (including 6 of the county seats)
230 - Miles
from border to border
450 -
Pounds of ice used by runners and crews
41,250 -
Calories used by a single runner during the 5-day event
The idea
for a Trans-Kansas run originated several years ago, but came to fruition over
the Memorial Day weekend. This type of
event (and I say event, as this was not a race) was something
that was untried by our club. So how
the event would go was for the most part unknown. I expected to field a group of four to six runners and hopefully
finish one or maybe two runners. My
expectations were greatly exceeded.
Day 1 -
Five human runners (Paul Schoenlaub, Eric Steele, Dann Fisher, Jim Perry and
Marc Friesen) and one Canine (Bart) who was accompanying Dann started at the
Nebraska border on Thursday, May 25 at 6:00am.
There was a light northern breeze at our backs. It was nice way to start for the 230
miles. The favorable conditions didn’t
last long. The tailwind remained, but
the cool conditions didn’t. The
temperature would crawl into the 90’s.
I struggled in the heat early and decided that my heat-training was
nonexistent and better call it off early.
Paul and Dann ran strong the entire day. Eric Steele and Jim Perry also struggled with the heat and/or
blisters, but made it to the finish line to complete the first day. Eric Steele determined that getting through
the first 52-mile stage (ending in Clay Center) was enough and wouldn’t return
to run, but rather to support the remaining entrants in the later stages. Bart suffered a bruised paw after about 30
miles and was pulled, also came back later to crew.
Day 2 -
Dann, Paul and Jim started off again in Clay Center for the shortest of the
five stages…38 miles. Rich Golden, the
lone single stage entrant, also joined the motley group for this stage. Winds remained from the north, switching the
south in the afternoon. Temperatures
soared into the mid-90’s. The trees
that lined the highway in Abilene provided the only shade on the course that
day and were more than welcome. Day two
ended at the Smokey Hill River just south of the Abilene City Limits. All finished well and retreated back the
shade of the Eisenhower Center and Park as soon as they were done.
Day 3 - A
strong headwind was the order of the day for this stage. This would be a tough day for all. I measured a gust of 35mph and a temperature
of 96F at the finish in Goessel, 50 miles down the road from the start. In my mind this would be the “make or break”
for all runners. Completing this stage
would mean 140 miles and three days down, a significant mental barrier. Despite the tough conditions and the lengthy
stage everyone just got tougher and persevered.
Day - 4 The
wind was back and it returned earlier in the day than the others. This day’s stage was straight south for 46
miles. There was no break with a brief
spurt of east-west running as in the previous stages. And for the first time we left highway K-15 for a more direct
southern route during this stage. This
stage would take us through the towns of Newton and Wichita. The cities provided a break in the scenery,
but also eliminated the opportunities for “roadside breaks”. It did provided crews to get the necessary
supplies and services a little closer at hand.
Paul, Jim and Dann all looked good running. Everyone was in their groove.
Day - 5
This is the day that Jim, Paul and Dann had been running for. There was only 44 miles left to the Oklahoma
border. The surety of the finish for
the three was absolute. I think in some
ways was one of the easier stages for all runners, and also judging by Dann’s
16 minute split for the last two miles of the stage. The rigors of five ultras in a row had taken their toll; include
cuts on hands from opening and closing Gatorade bottles countless times and
sore lips from drinking from hand bottles.
These are the “classic” over use injuries.
Final
thoughts:
Although I
wish my own running could have gone better, then next best thing was to be a
part of such outstanding efforts. I
think this event truly defines ultrarunning’s unofficial motto, “Ordinary
people doing extraordinary things”.
Running and direction such an event is a combination of involved in a 24
hour and a 50 mile race all at once.
There is the shear exhaustion from a 24 hour, but the constant go-go-go
of a 50-mile.
I doubt the
exact same event will return next, but the type of event will, so be looking
for an announcement sometime later this year.
Official
Results
52 38 50 46 44 230
Stage 1 Stage 2 Stage 3 Stage 4 Stage 5 Total
Paul
Schoenlaub 11:05:46 7:25:38 11:25:27 10:23:31
9:08:25 49:28:47
Dann
Fisher 11:54:17 8:56:06 12:38:49 12:25:35
11:34:45 57:29:45
Jim
Perry 12:10:02 9:32:20 14:30:40 14:37:09 12:50:48 63:40:19
Eric
Steele 14:44:08
Rich
Golden 9:31:00
Marc
Friesen DNF
I had never run a multi-day run before. Before when
I ran 50 miles, I was stiff for 2 days afterward. I tried this run as an
experiment
to see if I could do it. At the end of day 1, I
passed out with my eyes still open and gave Marc quite a scare. I got up
Day 2 and
started shuffling down the road. Pretty soon I
discovered that I didn't hurt too bad. I kept running. Temperatures
every day
got into the 90's. Day 3 was the most taxing on
me. We ran 50 miles south with wind gusts from the South at 50 mph and
the
high temperature hitting 95. By the end of day, I
was totally beat. Day 4 I woke up to find the wind still blowing. I
almost didn't
go to the starting line. But, I was determined to
see if I could still succeed. Day 4 was the stage I feared the most - the
run
down Broadway in Wichita. Days 3 and 4 took me a
little over 14 1/2 hours each. Monday morning I woke up and could sense
that I was going to finish. The day started good
but, by the time I got to Wellington it was brutally hot, the shoulders were
narrow
on Highway 81 and I was fading. With 10 miles to the
finish, Eric Steele showed up and ran and talked with me for the final
10 miles. That was all I needed to finish the
tour. I wasn't fast but I was persistent. I had a buddy from Enid,
come up and
crew for me. He was fantastic. He had a great
way of keeping me going without pushing. I don't think I would run the
race again,
but I would look at another event with a different
course. KUS has always had a special spot in my heart because I have been
encouraged
and applauded even though I am not an elite runner.
Thanks for the experience.
I finished the event on Monday evening and Saturday I
found myself in Minneapolis to run a 24-hour run around Lake Nakomis. I
needed
21 miles at the event to complete 500 miles at FANS and
get a special jacket. I completed 28 miles before cashing in and going to
the hotel. There was very little left in the tank at
the beginning or end of the FANS. I had signed up for FANS before I saw
the Trans-Kansas run.
And from Dann
Fisher, participant
That
day, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to
the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd run to the end
of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd just run across Washington
County. And I figured, since I’d run this far, maybe I'd just run across the
great state of Kansas. And that's what I did. I ran clear across Kansas. For no
particular reason I just kept on going…
Day one
of the Trans-Kansas was hot (92 degrees), sunny and offered a tailwind for most
of the stage. The event had six
starters - Dann Fisher and his sidekick Bart (Manhattan), Marc Friesen
(Newton), Jim Perry (Enid, OK), Paul Schoenlaub (St. Joseph, MO), and Eric
Steele (Wichita). By the end of the day
the field would pare in half.
The group
stayed relatively close together for the first 20 miles to Washington, which
helped to reduce the strain on our small crew.
Bart was excited to be part of the pack. Unlike Miles, Bart has experienced the joy of group running
infrequently. He bounced between Marc
and Paul trying to understand what was unfolding. Unfortunately, Bart bruised a paw pad on the approach to Linn,
about 30 miles into the stage, and would be relegated to crew dog for the rest
of event.
First
time I ran
Was to the end of the block
I didn't know then
That it never would stop
-- Jimmy Buffett,
Everybody’s on the Run
As I
approached Linn, I thought about my uncle, Loyd Wiese, who was raised in
Linn. When he died, he wasn’t much
older than I am now. Loyd enjoyed
taking part in my early running adventures.
I wondered what he would have thought of this crazy event. Could I have talked him into crewing?
Leaving
Linn, I switched to a sun hat with a chinstrap because I was tired of chasing
my cap through the ditch each time a truck passed. The hog trucks were my favorite.
The shoulder of K-15 is narrow and rocky, sloping quickly into the
ditch. Most of the first day’s run was
an attempt to get comfortable running only a few feet from fast moving trucks
and cars.
Just
outside Palmer, I caught up to Marc and Paul as they prepared to leave the aid
station. Paul seemed strong. The heat was starting to wear on Marc. He would marshal on for another eight miles
before succumbing to the weather.
Clearly disappointed, he opted for a ride with Shannon to Clay Center in
the Honda Element.
At the
aid stop near the junction with K-9, Richard Golden joined the fray. At Linn, I attempted to goad him into
joining us. Rich had signed up for the
second stage, but upon reflection decided that he had another 12 in the
tank. Paul was out of sight, running
strong. Rich, Jim and I moved more
cautiously toward Clay Center. Word
came that Eric had dropped back, struggling with blisters and swelling in his
Achilles tendon. He would finish this
stage, but would wisely choose not to continue.
The
traffic grew heavy as we approached Clay Center. The sun was lower in the sky and seemed to be trying to burn a
hole right through me. The salt that
coated my shirt had turned it as stiff as if it had been starched. I felt fine, but I must have looked rough. A man pulled to the side of the road and
offered me the ice from his soft drink.
I declined but thanked him for his generosity. When I met Shannon at the last aid stop before Clay Center, Marc
was standing next to the vehicle doing his best to turn himself inside
out. Shortly after I left them, a man
flagged me down. “Having car trouble?”
he quizzed. I explained the aid wagon
to him and why we were venturing down K-15.
He seemed a bit perplexed, almost sorry that he had asked, but he wished
me well.
I reached
the finish line of stage one, the corner of US-24 and K-15, to find Marc
sitting in the Honda and Paul departing for Washington to retrieve Jim’s
van. Rich and Jim came in shortly after
me. Shannon purchased me a milkshake
from the Twister and we opted for a spot in the shade around the corner to
await Paul’s return. Shortly after I
sat down, Marc came shuffling my direction, moving a lot like Fred
Sanford. “Dann, Jim just
collapsed!” I struggled to my feet and
hustled toward the Honda only to find Jim passed out on the tailgate. He had been talking on his cell phone, Marc
explained, when he just drooped over. I
grabbed my cell phone and started to call 911.
Before I could finish dialing Jim came around. Marc and I got him up and moving, escorting him to the
shade. Within a few minutes he was fine
again, just the latest casualty of the heat and sun.
Day one
had been rough. Marc, Eric and Bart had
called it quits. Jim was questionable
for return. I felt okay, but wondered
what I’d feel like in the morning. Paul
was finding it all too easy, and he remained too positive. I secretly nicknamed him Flanders.
Time:
11:56:17
Friday,
May 26, Clay Center to Smokey Hill River south of Abilene on K-15, 38 miles
Spinning
around in circles
Living it day to day
And still twenty four hours, maybe sixty good years
It's still not that long a stay.
We've gotta roll with the punches
Learn to play all of our hunches
Makin' the best of whatever comes your way
Forget that blind ambition
And learn to trust your intuition
Plowin' straight ahead come what may.
--
Jimmy Buffet, Cowboy in the Jungle
Day two
found Jim willing to continue, Paul picking up a pacer, Rich ready to do his
stage, and me electing to use an iPod shuffle for the rest of the event.
Road
trip runnin’ with the music up loud
Take a trip from the north to the dirty south
Wherever it leads ya
Overheated
on the side of the road
-- Jimmy Buffett, Back
of the Bus
Bart was
disappointed to be left behind. The day
had dawned overcast and much cooler.
Storm clouds lurked off to the west as we stumbled our way out of Clay
Center. Paul, pacer in tow, soon took off like a shot. The rest of us remained cautious. I was stiff the first couple of miles, but
soon began to flow easily down the road.
I hoped to get this section in by mid-afternoon. Bart had been limping and not acting right
so I wanted to get him to Manhattan to the vet. I also hoped to squeeze in a chiropractic adjustment and massage.
Shannon
met me every five miles. The distance
between Clay Center and K-18 went by quickly.
The lightening circled around us to the south, while we benefited from
an off-and-on light rain over this section of the course.
K-18 was
narrow and the traffic was difficult.
As I turned back south on K-15, the sun came out. Coupled with the high humidity, the heat was
brutal. I asked Shannon to meet me
every four miles and worked at slowing the pace.
Just
before we reached Abilene, we encountered the only construction on the entire
230-mile course, a less than one-mile stretch being resurfaced just to the
north of I-70. Given the bumper crop of
orange barrels that Kansas produces every summer, the dearth of road
construction was surprising.
I was
tired and the heat was taking a toll as I dodged traffic in Abilene. I laughed out load at the cars lined up into
the road at a stop-and-rob that was offering fuel for $2.41, while the shop
across the road, selling fuel for $2.57, set empty. Amazing what people will endure for a “bargain.”
Paul
emerged from the Eisenhower Center parking lot to cheer me on. As I approached the bridge, I had to jump
the guardrail and progress in the grass because the traffic on the bridge was
potentially lethal.
After I
finished, we left Marc to wait for Rich and Jim to finish, while Shannon and I
rushed toward Manhattan to take Bart to see Dr. Lyons. While Bart was being checked out, I went to
get an adjustment from Dr. Iversen.
Shannon headed back to Abilene to retrieve Marc and Paul.
When I
retrieved Bart, he had his bruised paw pad wrapped, and I was given medication
for him to treat a bacterial infection.
I dropped Bart off at home and went to get a massage from Doug
Sellers. I was glad this was the “rest”
day, because I was shot!
Time:
8:56:06
Saturday,
May 27, Smokey Hill River south of Abilene to Goessel on K-15, 50 miles
We
only have two rules in this outfit - take care of your feet and don’t do
something stupid that ends up getting you killed.
I thought
of those words of wisdom from Lt. Dan as I drained a blood blister on my right
foot while enjoying breakfast. During
the planning phase for this event, I debated with Marc the merits and
difficulties of running from north to south.
I had feared a strong south headwind.
A storm had moved though over night, making my words prophetic (and the
runners pathetic). The wind would only
strengthen as the sun came up.
Marc
would crew for Paul today. Shannon
would crew for me. Jerry arrived from
Oklahoma to crew for Jim. Fearing that
the wind would slow our progress, we decided that the crew vehicles should stop
every four miles. The three of us were
running such drastically different paces that the event had turned into three
supported solo runs across Kansas. I added
more frequent, but still short, walking breaks trying to consciously conserve
energy in the wind. By the end of the
day, the temperature would be 96 degrees and the wind would blow around 25 mph
with gusts exceeding 40 mph. We ran 44
of the 50 miles into the wind.
“Flanders” implied that the wind was some sort of blessing because it
was keeping him cool. I think 15 mph
would have been sufficient for that. No
wonder Paul does so well in ultras - he is so damn positive that nothing gets
him down!
My
parents arrived early in the run to retrieve Maggie (our ancient dog) and take
her to a kennel in Salina. My dad, the
Rain Man of Kansas roads, engaged Marc in a discussion of the route before they
departed.
Even with
extended sitting breaks on the tailgate of the Element, I averaged four miles
per hour on the way to Durham. Somewhere
north of Durham, I looked up to see a rattlesnake coiled up in my path. Having seen the snake too, Paul asserted
that it was dead. I was not convinced.
If Phil Sheridan had been there, I’m sure he would have poked it with a stick
to find out. Frank Dayton would have
picked it up to examine it more closely.
I gave it a wide berth by circling to the other side of the
highway. I don’t like snakes!
They just couldn't believe that somebody would do all that running
for no particular reason. I just felt like running.
As we
approached the turnoff to Tampa, a pickup truck slowed down beside me. “Broken down?” he quizzed. I thought, “Well, yeah. But not in the sense that you’re
thinking.” I explained the event too
him. “Shoot. You got a long way to go,” he pronounced in a Kansas drawl that I
once read is posited to result from the need to shout over the Kansas
wind. I wanted to say, “Thanks captain
obvious,” but I just muttered something about being half way. He wished me luck, told me to be careful and
sped off. This scene replayed itself
several times over the course of the day.
Encouraging that so many people are still willing to check on the needs
of a stranger. Perhaps it was only
fleeting curiosity into why some dumbass would be running down a narrow high in
brutal heat and gale force winds.
My
experience was less positive as I departed Durham. A flatbed truck hauling a farm implement was passing me moving in
the same direction. Suddenly, I notice
tires on the white line just inches to my right. Some idiot had decided to pass the truck. I still don’t know how the mirror missed my
arm. I gave them a double, middle-fingered
gesture, the only one of the event.
Against
the wind
I was
running against the wind
I’m
older now but still running against the wind
I laughed
out loud when the Bob Seger song shuffled its way into my ears after more than
30 miles of being buffeted around by the Kansas “breeze.” I started thinking about when the song was
new. We had played it many times
(probably on 8-track tape) during my first ultra, a 24-hour relay in July
1980. On a 102 degree, humid, sunny,
windy day that morphed into a muggy night, I ran 30 miles, in one-mile shifts. I thought about the guys with whom I had
shared that track so many years ago.
I’m still in touch with one of them, at least one is deceased, the
others have scattered like dirt in the Kansas wind. Perhaps I would have caught up with one or two of them had I
attended my high school reunion that was taking place while I ran. A quarter century later, the question
remains: Why am I still running against this stinkin’ Kansas wind?
About 36
miles into the stage, I met Shannon at the turn onto US-56. The wind rocked the vehicle as I sat on the
tailgate. Shannon had ventured into
Hillsboro for lunch and returned with tapioca pudding for me. What a tasty treat!
The
roughly six miles down US-56 brought a respite from the wind and a much wider,
paved shoulder. With the wind now at my
left, I found myself snaking down the road to keep from ending up in
traffic. At the next aid spot Shannon
had parked on a gravel road. Several
drilling trucks approached from the south.
The wind-driven gravel they scattered nearly ripped the skin off of us!
When I
was hungry, I ate. When I was tired, I slept. When I had to go, you know, I
went!
As I
turned back south on K-15, I felt the call of nature so I ventured under a
bridge to take care of business. Upon
repositioning my shorts and returning to the road, I realized that I had
developed some serious crotch chaffing.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” I exclaimed as if it might somehow sooth my skin. I struggled the next couple of miles to
where I met Shannon. I slathered myself
with Bag Balm and ran the last six miles like I had spent the last couple of
days on a horse.
Despite
the heat and the wind, I was peeing all the way to the end of the stage. My stomach felt great, good enough that I
was able to consume a double quarter-pounder, fries, a milkshake and a coke on
the way to cabin.
Time:
12:38:49
Sunday,
May 28, Goessel on K-15 to Wichita on US-81, 46 miles
I endured
a restless sleep overnight. I drained
and patched three new blisters on my toes before loading gear to head to
Goessel. At 4:30 a.m., the wind was
still blowing fiercely. I couldn’t help
but wonder if I had 46 miles in me again today.
We met
Paul, Marc, Jim and Jerry at Goessel.
Even Paul started slowly this morning.
He and I bantered a bit as we moved the four miles to the first aid
station. We stopped to pee. Thinking of the lyrics from a Jerry Jeff Walker
song, I made sure that I stationed myself at the south end of the line:
Pissin’
in the wind
Blowin’
on all our friends
Makin’
the same mistakes
We
swore we’d never make again
I’m sure
I created some conversation over the five days by stopping whenever I felt like
it next to the highway to pee. One
could only imagine the words that must have been exchanged between the more
civilized travelers in the cars.
I felt
very sluggish today. I began to perk up
as we ran west through Newton. The town
provided a good windbreak. I used the
bathroom at McDonald’s. Wow! Indoor plumbing. What a concept.
As we
approached the Newton Medical Center on the south side of town, I stepped awkwardly
off a curb and my left calf muscle seized up.
At the aid station, I rubbed it with ice, but it insisted on screaming
at me for the next 16 miles or so.
Jim Davis
joined the crew team and would ride with Marc the rest of day. Jim and Marc are two of the truly nice
people in ultrarunning. Having the
easy-going, reassuring Jim around today would help us all.
In the
days of the first running boom, we were instructed to never run more than 20
miles, unless we were racing. About 20
miles into this run, I became nostalgic for those days. Shannon was parked back a ways on a gravel
road to take advantage of the wind protection from a tree line. Not hard to understand why these trees were
planted years ago.
US-81 is
a four-lane between Newton and Wichita. The extra lane generally gave us a
break from the traffic. Most, but not
all, people were willing to move over.
Weary from the narrow highway we had traveled the first three days, I
often challenged the holdouts to move over by refusing to flinch in a game of
chicken that I clearly had no hope of winning.
My
parents and my aunt Joyce were waiting with Shannon at an aid station in Park
City. Marc and Jim arrived shortly
after I did. They informed us that Paul
was running strong and on his way toward downtown Wichita. We all agreed that Paul is machine. My calf was feeling better but my left IT
band had begun cursing me in the last couple of miles so I took an extended
stay on the tailgate in the shade to do some icing and enjoy the conversation.
Another
hot one on Highway 81
This
is my life, its what I’ve chosen to do
There’s
no free ride, no one said it’d be easy
The
old man told me this my son
I’m
telling it to you
Days
turn to minutes and minutes to memories
Life
sweeps away the dreams that we have planned
You
are young and you are the future
So
suck it up and tough it out and be the best you can
Mellencamp
returned me to a good running groove.
Despite the heat, wind and soreness, I made good time to downtown
Wichita. Not wanting to be in north
Wichita after dark didn’t hurt my motivation either. Eric Steele and his crew met me just before the next aid station
to offer encouragement. I met Shannon
and my family near the homeless shelter close to downtown. Later I would learn, not surprisingly, that
Jim had given one of the men some money.
Paul then offered a sandwich but went back to running leaving Marc and
Jim to prepare the meal!
Shannon,
my dad and I studied the map to determine how much distance was left to 62nd
street. The wind was blocked downtown
which made for sweltering heat (Damn Flanders was right!). I walked a little more as I headed toward
the finish, trying to conserve for the remaining stage. As I approached the finish line of the
stage, I broke into laughter. The iPod
shuffle knew just what to play: Highway to Hell.
When we
arrived at the hotel a few blocks away, the weather channel indicated that the
temperature was 90 degrees and that the wind was 26 mph gusting to 32 mph. I became chilled but still managed to ice my
IT band. I was hoping that it wouldn’t
keep me from doing the final stage. I
ate most of large pizza and drifted off to sleep.
Time: 12:25:35
Monday,
May 29, Wichita on US-81 to the Okalahoma Border on US-177, 44 miles
I had a
good night of sleep. My IT band felt
normal, as if I hadn’t run at all the day before. My stomach, on the other
hand, was upset, probably the pizza still reverberating. I’d get to visit some additional Kansas
landscape over the morning as a result.
Marc,
Paul, Jim and Jerry were already at the starting line when we arrived. Marc was stating that since this is not a
race we shouldn’t have been referring to him as the RD. “I’m really ED,” he stated. I suggested that he might want to reconsider
that title, much to Paul’s delight.
Anxious
to get to Oklahoma, Paul started quickly.
I hung back for a bit to visit with Jim. Today would be hot (above 90 degrees again and more humid) but
the wind calm by Kansas standards - a 10 to 15 mph headwind. I can run stronger
in these conditions.
Early in
the run, I realized that I had a nasty blister forming on my lower lip. It took a couple of sips from the water
bottle for me to realize that this was a repetitive-use injury. The plastic, pop-up spout on my water bottle
was wearing a hole in my lip. This
would be my most painful injury of the event.
Marc told me that Jerry had blisters on his hand from the repeated
opening and closing of the Gatorade bottle he was carrying. Things we neglect to consider in training!
So
let's talk about the future
Or the consequences of my past
I've got scars, I've got lines
I'm not hard to define
Just an old professor coverin' his ass.
I know I can't run and hide
But just hang on for the ride
There will be laughter and tears
As we progress through the years
But still it's fun
Hey I'm not done
Gonna run 'til I fall
-- Jimmy Buffett, Coastal Confessions
Shannon
met me every four miles most of the day.
At an early stop, Marc quoted Paul as saying that this was just getting
easier each day. I asked Marc to inform
Flanders that he risked his remains being found years from now in one of these
fields. Jim was energized to be in the
last leg and was running strong, staying close behind me for most of the
morning.
There
isn’t much on the map between Wichita and Wellington. I found myself thinking, “Wheat field, wheat field, wheat field,
pasture, wheat field, wheat field, expletive wheat field…” A couple of miles before Riverdale, it
donned on me that I was about 200 miles into this trek.
I was
running okay but felt really fatigued through the morning. Shannon purchased me a hamburger at Sonic in
Wellington so I sat on the tailgate and enjoyed lunch. Twenty miles to go.
Over the
next 10 miles, I moved deliberately, encountering a number of hills. At times I was sleepy, not unlike the late
stages of a 100-miler. I thought it
interesting that Thursday, the cars moving past made me nervous. Now trucks were flying past me at 70 mph
only a few feet away almost unnoticed, at least until I slide in the scree next
to the road and almost fell over backwards into the on-coming traffic. As I caught my balance and regained my
composure, I reminded myself that getting killed 10 miles from the finish would
put a real damper on the event.
Shortly
before I was to meet Shannon about eight miles from Oklahoma, Eric and Warren
(Eric’s crew) pulled up and stopped in front of me. Paul, I was told, had just finished. Eric was preparing to run the last few miles with Jim. A sheriff stopped to see if we needed
help. Eric told him of our
adventure. The sheriff didn’t seem
overly impressed, more relieved that he didn’t need to do any work.
Shannon
agreed to meet me in three miles. As I
prepared to leave, Marc, Jim and Paul arrived. Jim was preparing to take Paul
to Newton to meet his ride. Paul still
looked amazingly fresh. Not
surprisingly, he was upbeat. As I
prepared to leave them, I turned and said, “Here is something you’ll only hear
me say once: I can’t wait to get to Oklahoma!”
I've
been in vans and in bands
On and through stages
One thing I can conclude
One has to learn havin' fun is just smilin' through
Those Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes
Take it from me cuz I've found
If you leave it then somebody else is bound
To find that treasure, that moment of pleasure
When yours, it could have been
Some people never find it
Some only pretend, but me:
I just want to live happily ever after every now and then
-- Jimmy
Buffett, Happily Ever After (Every Now and Then)
I was starting
to smell the barn. I covered the next
three miles in 33 minutes. I found Marc
waiting with Shannon at the next aid spot.
He told me that I’d have a short climb into South Haven. He talked of needing to return to Newton but
decided to go with Shannon to the next aid station. My bottle refilled, I decided to see if I could continue to drop
the pace. The next three miles passed
in 30 minutes. When I met up with Marc
and Shannon, Marc indicated that he would have time to see me finish if I could
replicate that pace for the last two miles.
I embraced the challenge and further dropped the pace, racing over the
last two miles in 16:30. Oklahoma!
I'm
pretty tired... I think I'll go home now.
Time:
11:34:45
Epilogue
Paul Schoenlaub - 49:28:47
Dann Fisher - 57:29:32
Jim
Perry - 63:40.19
Eric
Steele - 14:44:08 (1st Stage Only - 52 Miles)
Rich
Golden - 9:31:00 (2nd Stage Only - 38 Miles)
Marc
Friesen - DNF
Entering
the event I had no idea if I could even line up for stages three, four and
five. I was amazed at how well my body
responded each day. I was using a new
drink, eLoad, that eliminated my heat and nausea issues. I was extremely pleased with how well this
product worked for me. I estimate that
I consumed more than seven gallons of eLoad over the five days. I also downed 13 liters of Pedialyte and
more than three gallons of Pepsi. I
didn’t eat much while running - three or four pbj sandwiches, three cans of Stax
Lays chips, a hamburger, several poptarts, and some pudding. Most of my food calories came in the hours
after each stage. I lost one pound over
the five days.
Because
of the heat, I hit the electrolytes hard.
I used the e-caps that the makers of eLoad provide and supplemented them
with Succeed caps. I took one of each
every half hour, meaning that I swallowed more than 200 caps during the five
days.
I
estimate that I spent about seven hours sitting on the tailgate of the
Element. I probably ran about
two-thirds of time. I suspect that I
listened to more than 700 songs during stages two through five.
At the
finish I learned that Jim was an accountant.
That makes four accountants on or along the course (Marc, Shannon, Jim
and me). Seems you couldn’t swing a
dead roadkill (and we had lots of choices) without hitting an accountant. Jim showed tremendous resolve, getting up
off the deck after stage one to run strong all the way to the end. I have a lot of admiration for him.
Paul was
amazing, covering the course in less than 50 hours. He seemed unfazed and ready for the Bighorn 100 three weeks
later. I kid him throughout this
report, but he is a great guy and a talented ultrarunner.
Eric
showed the ultrarunner spirit by helping Jim get to the finish line.
Rich
helped out by joining in stage 1. Rumor
has it that he ran a 10k in Hillsboro while we were running stage 3.
Marc
showed tremendous character throughout the event. I know that he was disappointed by not being able to run the
event that he planned so well, but instead of pouting, he served us well as
crew. People like Marc are what make
ultrarunning in general and the Kansas Ultrarunners’ Society specifically so
special.
I would
be remiss if I didn’t thank Shannon.
She allows and encourages all my crazy dreams. She drove across Kansas four miles at a time. Now that is
patience!
I
don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around
accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both. Maybe both are
happening at the same time.
Over the
course of the run, I had occasion to think about many of my relatives. During the first stage, we passed near where
most of my mom’s family lived or still resides. During the third stage, we passed near where most of my dad’s
relatives lived. Somewhere over the
course of the run, as I enjoyed the beautiful weather and the lovely Kansas
vistas and as I pondered my heritage, I concluded why I still live in Kansas -
because apparently I’m too god damned stupid to move!
And
that’s all I have to say about that.