Nineteen years ago, near the beginning of my ultrarunning career, my wife Marcy and I journeyed to Eldridge, Iowa for the Cornbelt 24 Hour track run. Though I completed 86 miles, it was disappointing in that I slept the last four hours of the race, having stopped with a sore knee. I have felt like I have had unfinished business since that time.
As a true TATUR, I much prefer the trail races and have not done a track race since my 1988 adventure to Iowa. On May 5, I returned to the Cornbelt, hoping to gain a measure of revenge and complete at least 100 miles. People say that running on a quarter mile track for 24 hours sounds really boring. I say, “Not really; we switched directions every three hours.”
It was a humid day, but thankfully it was mostly cloudy and the high temperature was 70 degrees. However, the problem was the strong winds, gusting up to 35 mph for much of the race. The good news is that on the quarter mile track, the head wind only lasted for a straightaway or 120 yards at a time.
Starting at a comfortable pace and mixing in some walking, I reached the marathon mark in about 4:45 and was in about 7th place. Feeling some fatigue, I thought, “Tired legs already and 19 hours to go.” However, I was encouraged by looking at a few of the runners who had started too fast and were starting to slow noticeably. Reaching the 50 mile mark in 9:23, I had moved up to 4th place and was feeling good – at least compared to what I was seeing around me.
Although I constantly battled my old nemesis (nausea), the stomach never got too bad and the fatigue never seemed to get much worse. Other than a few trips to the restroom (that’s where trail running is much more convenient), my stops were limited to a couple of three minute soup stops and an occasional 30 second stop at my aid table to grab something to eat or drink – or one of 25 Tums or 8 Zantacs.
Starting at about the 50 mile mark, I used the strategy of walking 100 yards into the wind and running the remaining 340 yards of each lap. I had thought that if everything went well, I might make it to 100 miles in 22 hours. I was very surprised to reach the 100 mile mark in 20:50, an average of exactly 12 minutes 30 seconds per mile.
Only one runner had reached 100 miles faster than me, 26 minutes faster than me. I was very happy to be in second place and was looking forward to calling Marcy at the end of the race at 7:00 A.M. and telling her that I had finished second.
However, it was getting even more exciting: upon reaching the 100 mile mark, the leader had begun walking very slowly. His 8 lap lead began to shrink as I continued my run/walk strategy. After the leader walked two slow miles to reach 102 total miles, he stepped off the track, finished for the race. A few minutes later, I passed the 102 mile mark and took the lead. Knowing that I had at least a 5 mile lead on several other runners, I knew that all I had to do was continue moving to get the win.
It was a joyous last 2 hours as I walked more and ran less and looked forward to that call home. I finished with 111.89 miles and, yes, Marcy was as surprised as I was.]
After the award breakfast and a 2 ½ hour nap in the van, the hardest part of the weekend occurred: driving 10 hours home by myself. With the aid of many great memories about the race, along with windows down, radio blaring, and frequent cell calls from friends and family, I safely arrived home at 10 P.M. Sunday. After slowly extracting myself from the van and inching into the house, I collapsed in bed thinking: “How wonderfully blessed I am! I strongly sensed that God had strengthened and protected me and gave me a weekend that I will always cherish!”