Heartland 100 2009

This is the third time I have run the Heartland 100. It was also the first race where I ever ran 100 miles, in 2007. Thus, it has a special place in my heart, and holds some nostalgia for me. In addition, it is just a great race. The race is very well organized, with many experienced runners involved. The volunteers are great and the food is fantastic, with each aid station having something unique. From burgers and sloppy joes to home made soup and cookies, it’s all there and all delicious. The course is fantastic, laid out on 99% dirt roads. Wide open, tall grass prairie stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction. It is very rare to see a house out here. I would say that the course passes by 8-10 homes, about half of which are actually inhabited. Other than a few race vehicles associated with the crews and volunteers, I probably saw four cars during the entire experience. Most would call this “the middle of nowhere”. Being a long time lover of all things desolate, I think it’s just fantastic!

I’ve come to realize that one of the main reasons I run 100 mile races is for the adventure of it. Most folks in our modern world never get to have any real adventure. Given that I’ve always loved great tales of adventure, and putting myself out a little close to the edge, the sport of ultra running seems to fit very well. I suppose when you compare it to jumping off of cliffs with a parachute, it may be rather tame. But, combined with the personal struggles involved, I find it very fulfilling.

Race day in Kansas typically holds good weather. The average highs and lows are 69 & 55 degrees. This year would tip the scales and set a record for the coldest race weekend yet. The morning temperature was 29 degrees at 6:00 am. The wind was calm, but an expected front was scheduled around lunch time. Forecast: cloudy, with a high of 40, low of 30. After training in normal fall temps, this was a bit of a shock to the system. But, as usual in these races, it was really more of a mental issue, most of the time.

The race began at the old school in Cassoday, Kansas, about 45 minutes northeast of Wichita. Wichita is dead flat, but Cassoday is the beginning of the Flint Hills area. Lots and lots of rolling hills, covered in some of the last remaining tall grass prairie in the Midwest. This makes for a course with around 6-7,000 feet of elevation gain, over 100 miles. The 50 mile runners (43 of them) started about 100 yards ahead of the 100 milers (a total of 61 starters). At the count, we all started off together.

I held a pretty fast pace for the first several miles. I had been working on speed work in my training and was eager to see how it would translate. I ran at what felt like a comfortable pace for the first 9.2 miles to the Battle Creek aid station. I arrived at a pace of around 10:30 minutes per mile. I had already taken off my jacket after the first couple of miles and was starting to wonder why I had worn it. As I left Battle Creek, after a quick stop to fill up my water and grab a snack, I felt the wind. It immediately hit me and chilled me. I took the jacket from around my waist and put it on. I would keep on my jacket for the entire rest of the trip. Running in 30 degree temps was no big deal. But, combine that with a 20 mph wind and it was down right chilly.

I kept clipping along at a comfortable pace to the next major aid station. Coming into Lapland, I met Susan Lance from Georgia. She knew my name from the Ultra list. I came into Lapland (mile 16.8) at around three hours. I had made a time sheet with splits to keep me on a 11:00 min/mile pace through mile 25. After a stop for chocolate milk, a water fill up and snacks to go, I was 5 minutes ahead of my schedule. Susan left a few minutes before me. It was the last time I would see her, as she went on to finish in something around 18:35, good enough for second place among the women runners. Amazing!

I ran well for the next hour or so. I arrived at mile 25 (Teterville aid station) at around 10:30 (4 ½ hours in). I was still 5 minutes ahead of schedule. I was aiming to make the 50 mile turnaround at 9:40. This was pretty aggressive, and about 30 minutes faster than I had ever run. But, I thought it was possible, and without setting a big goal, you never know if you can reach it.

The next section entails about 5.5 miles to Texaco Hill, a manned aid station, then 5.2 more miles to Ridgeline at mile 34.5. The first 4 miles involve a few fairly long climbs. Not terribly steep, but consistent in their climb. I had been running up hills in training and decided that I would run up this section, as much as possible, while not blowing all my energy. It went pretty well. I met up with Bob Murphy, when I noticed that his light was on and flashing in his pack. We ran/ walked the hill for an hour or so and came into Texaco Hill together. Another quick stop and I headed out. I enjoyed talking with Bob, but really wanted to stick with my own pace. I’ve found in the past that I sometimes will latch onto someone at a different pace and wind up slowing down considerably. So, I headed out solo. As I covered the next section, I could see Bob behind me, a few hundred yards back, but hanging tough.

Coming into Ridgeline, I was starting to slip off schedule. I was 15 minutes behind. I had set my pace at about 11:30 per mile for this section. I soon realized that the pace was unrealistic for me, at that point in the race. But, I made a quick, efficient water and food stop and headed back out. On average, my aid stops were typically around 5 minutes each. It doesn’t seem like much time. But, when there are 11 manned aid stations, it really starts to add up. Plus, during the night, I had a couple that went to 10 minutes. I came to the realization that my goal of 9:40 was not going to happen. I set my sights on 10 hours even. I ran well into Matfield Green , at mile 42.5. I also met up with Bob again, who seemed to be running very strong. He eventually ran ahead of me and I couldn’t quite keep up. Although, I did keep him in sight through this section. Bob would go on to finish around 22:35, quite impressive.

Leaving Matfield, I saw the leader come by on the way back. It was Dan Schmidt, local Salida runner and the guy I picked (as did he) to win. He was cranking along, as he passed by. I said hi, but I don’t think he recognized me. One minute later, along came the second place runner. Dan was being chased down hard! I started to count the runners to figure out my place. I knew I was around 23rd at mile 25. By the time I reached the turnaround at mile 50, I was right at 20th place. I also saw Amy, who would go on to win the women’s race (somewhere around 18 hours?). At first, there was nothing remarkable about her, although she was quite attractive. But if you looked down, you noticed that she had a prosthesis on one leg. A super, high-tech looking steel spring that flexed. She had no handicap in my mind. And I’m sure all the other runners, most of which were a long ways behind her, would agree. My time at the 50 mile mark was 10:30. Not what I’d hoped for, but a good pace for me, for the first half.

My mind now took a rest. I had been worrying about making my goal time for the first half. When I started to fall behind, I worried about that. Now, I just felt like I could let it go and just go with the flow. I still thought I could make a 24 hour finish. I had done my last race with a second half of 12 ½ hours. So, I knew that it was within reach. I headed back to Matfield for a sloppy joe and some chocolate milk.

On the next section, I met James. He was running his first 100 miler. Every time I have run this section, I have met someone doing their first 100. James was moving very well for a first timer. I told him he could easily get a finish, and probably a fast one. We ran together through the Ridgeline aid station, with a quick stop for Prairie Power Pellets, a sort of glorified beanie weenie, with 15 different beans. It was a tradition at this aid station and it really hit the spot. Night fell a few minutes before Ridgeline, and head lamps were donned. As we left for Texaco Hill, the wind was blowing from the side again, and it was cold! The only saving grace was that it caused us to run to keep some heat generated.

We arrived at Texaco Hill to a warm tent. James had mentioned a few times that his stomach didn’t feel too good. I told him that was pretty normal. I offered him an electrolyte pill, as it didn’t appear that he had been taking any. At Texaco, he didn’t feel much better. He was nice enough to give me an extra set of batteries, if I needed them later. As we left, we shivered from the cold and wind. Each time I went into a warm tent, upon leaving it took me 5-10 minutes of shivering to feel warm again. Just 100 yards out of Texaco Hill, James announced that he was going to throw up. Knowing that this was not uncommon in hundred milers, I said, ”Ok, no problem. I’ll just walk a bit. Do what you need to.” He then said he was going back to the aid station. I was surprised. I told him, “Throwing up is not fatal. You can still keep going. Go back, if you want. Those guys are experienced ultra runners. Just tell them your problems. They’ll fix you up.” He said he would. Finally, I yelled back “Don’t quit. Just keep going. I’ll see you at the finish!” Unfortunately, that was the last I saw, or heard, of James.

I came into Teterville alone at 11:30 pm. I’d been on my feet for 16 ½ hours. I was feeling pretty tired, but overall in good spirits. I had started taking caffeine at around 8:30. I’ve learned from experience that I need to start taking it before I get tired. After the yawns start, it almost impossible for me to come back to a mentally awake state. Half of a NoDoz, every 2 hours seemed to work well. I thought about taking some extra clothes, as I left. I had a second jacket tied around my waist already and I hadn’t needed it yet. I had some soup and headed out. As I left, I heard one of the volunteers yell out, “#58 dropped, #18 dropped, #33 dropped”. Yikes! I was getting out of there, just in case it was catching.

I had run miles 50-75 in 7 hours. I had 25 miles to go, and only 6 ½ hours to do it. If I was going to break 24 hours, it was going to be a long hard battle. So, I got down to work. I knew the course pretty well, after running the race three times. I would think about each turn ahead, as it approached. I could see two lights behind me. I kept running to stay ahead of them. Every time I turned a corner and the headwind caught me, I would run as long as I could, before taking a walk break. It was just too cold to walk. I came to the Lapland aid station at 1:30 am. 4.1 miles per hour! I was on pace. I had 4 ½ hours to go 16.8 miles.

I kept up my pace, continually doing math, over and over, in my head. If I reached the next aid station, at a certain time, I was good. The last manned station, Battle Creek, came at 3:45 am. I had 8.2 miles to go. I had to keep a 15 minute per mile pace. It seems easy, on paper. But, after 90 miles, it’s no small feat. I grabbed two cookies and headed out quickly. I had been experiencing the beginnings of a blister for the last several miles. But, I wasn’t going to stop to tape it. If I spent 5 minutes on it, I wasn’t going to make 24 hours. And as long as I kept good running form and didn’t walk on it much, it didn’t hurt. Good impetus to keep up my form and pace, I thought.

The last aid station (Mirage) is at mile 95.1. It’s not officially part of the race, but is manned by Bad Ben, a runner from Kansas City, who comes out every year to help out. And every year, he serves home made beer. A wonderful gesture. But, I don’t know how anyone can stomach beer at mile 95. I asked him how far it was. “4.9 miles”. Perfect, I thought. It was 4:45 am. At 15 minutes per mile, I’d have 5 minutes to spare. Way too close, but still doable. I kept it up, kept doing math, kept running and trying not to walk.

As I rounded the final turn and hit the pavement, with about 100 yards to go, I kept running. I also started to get very emotional. It’s pretty common for me to feel a little choked up at the end of 100 miles. You fight so hard, for so long. You try to remain in control, to keep telling yourself that you can do it. You encourage others and they encourage you. You dig deep into yourself. Almost nothing in daily life requires the commitment and the fortitude that it takes to run 100 miles on foot. It’s one of the main reasons why I run these races: to go outside of myself and my capabilities. I think that most other runners would agree. There really is no other valid reason to explain why I run 100 miles.

I crossed the line. My time was 23:54:34! I made it with 5 ½ minutes to spare! After sitting by the heater for about 20 minutes, I crawled into the back of my truck. I pulled out a sleeping pad and two sleeping bags and collapse into a nap for about 90 minutes. I ended up placing 15th, overall, 12th among men. There were some great performances out there. The winner, from Wichita, ran 17:05. My buddy Dan, from Salida, finished in 17:36 (?), good enough for third place. There were 41 finishers, out of 61 starters, for the 100 mile. Every one of the 43 who started the 50 mile race finished. Pretty good statistic for a race that long. I got my third matching belt buckle from the Heartland 100. So many buckles, so few belts!

This race was my fourth 100 mile race during 2009. I finished the Moab 100 in 29:57 (3/28/09), my slowest ever finish and a long hard slog, while trying to manage a bad blister. I ran the 24 hour race at FANS, in Minneapolis, completing 101 miles (6/6/09). I ran the Lean Horse 100, in South Dakota in 24:35 (8/20/09). It felt really good to be able to complete four 100 milers in one year (5 ½ months actually), and to bring my finish times down quite a bit from my first few races. I also completed every race which I started. I’ve come a long way in a little over two years of running ultras. Right now, I’m going to relax and wait for ski season. I may run the Rocky Raccoon 100, in February, or not. But, given how these adventures have gotten under my skin, I probably will.