The sun was setting on a typical spring day in the Midwest. It was a day that I was very ready to see the end of, and finally there was light at the end of the tunnel. A bright spot, barely perceivable in the distance, marked the terminus of the tree-lined railbed I had spent the entire day traversing. I could smell the barn at last, and things were about to get a lot more comfortable.
The day had started like many other race days. The old 2 a.m. alarm, coffee waiting in the pot, breakfast that I wasn’t yet hungry for, UTMB highlight videos and some loosening up on the foam roller. About an hour after leaving home, I was checked in and was ready to begin the Prairie Spirit Trail 100.
My day would be spent on a flat, out-and-back course on the Prairie Spirit rail-trail, running between the towns of Ottawa and Iola in eastern Kansas. We set off at 6 a.m. to a chilly start—the temperature was just above freezing, but after a short northbound stretch, the wind was at our backs, and it got warmer throughout the day.
The early part of the race went just as planned. There were some lonely miles ahead as I made my way through small-town America. This isn’t a race of grand views and adventure. I tried to enjoy the scenery and soak in the charm of the Kansas farm towns that provide the only variation along the way. I met my crew at the old train depot aid station in Garnett for my first real stop of the day. They were fresh from breakfast at the little Amish diner in town.
At this point, it was less of a race than it was enduring the passage of time. Passing time and passing through small towns. Passing through the lives of the people in these towns. People enjoying a pleasant spring day and oblivious to the test of perseverance passing through their lives at 7 miles per hour. I moved from one town to the next without ever encountering anything of note—just a crushed limestone path as far as the eye could see. Then the suffering began.
I had some tough miles before the turnaround and started feeling sorry for myself. By that point, the nausea had turned into hunger, and I ate like a starving wolf before returning to the course and running back north with about 50 miles to go. I was happy to be headed in the right direction and soon felt some energy come back into my body. We were back to passing time, albeit slightly more painfully. At the next stop I picked up a pacer and things improved even more—passing time is always better with friends. Back through all the same little towns. Staying motivated off the energy and support of my crew. And finally, there was the light.
As I crossed under the highway and back onto pavement through town, the pain began to melt away. The joy of crossing that finish line is hard to describe, but oh so sweet. My journey from Ottawa to Iola and back was complete in 14:11:12. All that remained was to celebrate the new state record with the team. Now, pass me a beer!
Results 100 Miles | 100K | 50 Miles | 50K