Cassoday Kansas is nestled in the “Flint Hills” region of South Central Kansas. The “tall grass prairie” remnant this region is famous for used to stretch from Texas to Canada but it now exists only in patches except in the Flint Hills. Here there are green, golden, rust and silvery grasses on hills stretching as far as the eye can see. Here is where the buffalo roamed in times past. Now the area has over 20 head of cattle for every human. Mark Henderson and I traveled to Cassoday to run the seventh Heartland 100 Mile October 14/15, 2006 sponsored by the Kansas Ultrarunners Society. Mark has run all six before and won 4 of those races flat out. He “snatched defeat from the jaws of victory” once by running 3 hours off the course. Another time he was beaten by a man who still holds the course record time – 14:30:27. Mark was psyched up to win but also to set a new course record. I just wanted the big silver and gold belt buckle with the gold buffalo in the middle. To get that buckle I needed to complete the race less than 30 hours.

We drove up Thursday night, leaving after work. It was a 10 hour trip that stretched to 12 with stops. Mark talked to his girlfriends on and off all the way up (he has quite a few). Each of them offered encouragement and moral support. I was preferential to “Becky” who sent inspirational text messages. We arrived tired at 4:30am in El Dorado, 25 miles south of Cassoday, where we had a room. We slept until about 10am, got some breakfast. and trucked up to Cassoday to check in. Cassoday looks like a Norman Rockwell painting with its antique railroad depot, tall white steepled church, café, antique shop and post office on Main Street. A few homes, a school and a senior citizens hall make up the rest of it - population 95. 103 runners doubled the population that Friday, 59 for the 100 mile and 44 for the 50 mile. They came from all over the country and several foreign countries. I thought it incredible that folks came from New Zealand, Belgium, Iceland and Quebec to run in Cassoday, KS. But they did.

Cassoday pictures: http://skyways.lib.ks.us/towns/Cassoday/index.html

The Senior Citizens Hall was Race Headquarters. We checked in our drop bags (I had 4 bags packed with clothes and gear) and got our instructions. Good home cooked fare was catered for the race banquet by the town café. I met Deb Cooney, a petite strawberry blonde from Pittsburg PA. It was her first 100 and I decided to run with her and pace her. Weather reports kept predicting rain for Saturday night but Friday’s weather was just magnificent. Mark and I turned in at 8:00pm and woke at 4:00am all charged with excitement. Outside it was clear and 40 degrees. Forget hot, sticky Houston! We started at 6:00am at the Old Cassoday School and began running down a long rocky road with flashlights and headlamps. I found Deb and we ran together.

The Flint Hills no doubt get their name from the flint rock that has weathered out of limestone bedrock and forms the surface soil. The roads are paved with flint and motorists are warned that flat tires can result from the sharp-edged road rocks. Runners should have guessed what those rocks do to your feet but there is no explicit warning in the race packet. As the day dawned we were not thinking about the rocks though. We were glorying in the sunrise and the vast and beautiful expanse around us. We threw up our hands, sang and jumped and ran. It felt so wonderful to be a part of this panorama. The first manned aid station was Battle Creek, 8 miles out. We left our flashlights behind there. As we progressed to Lapland at Mile 17 a 50 miler, Ron Paul from Denton Texas accompanied us. Three of us ran together down the “yellow brick road” like Dorothy, the Scarecrow and the Lion. I convinced Deb to run 8 and 2 (8 min run, 2 min walk). The wind was in our face and it was necessary to pace carefully and conserve energy. Deb had a tendency to run too fast, walk too little and spend too little time at the aid stations. Using my GPS watch I could see our pace at every moment and I yelled “Deb, slow down!” pretty regularly. I had planned out a time schedule to be at each aid station and we were right on it. If we were able to hang with it we would finish in 23:30.

After leaving Ron and the 50 milers behind at Teterville Road (Mile 25) us we climbed a long hill called Texaco Hill. The hills were not too high (about 200-300 feet) but they added up to 6200’ of total climb and descent for the 100 miles. We traversed the top of this hill for about 10 miles. The day was now warm and we were very exposed. Cattle trucks passed us, raising dust. The road stretched on to the horizon and we knew we had to run long past that. I began to feel fatigue, as much mental as it was physical. The prairie has a way of discouraging you simply from the expanse of sameness. Early explorers became disoriented, discouraged and died. To combat discouragement I focused on getting to the next aid station. I also had my cell phone with me and I got encouraging messages from my wife Kathy and running buddies Sema Beavers and Pastor Kevin Kleinhenz. Kevin said that he was praying for me. Deb put on her headphones and listened to “prairie music”, hours of popular songs with prairie themes she had put together. I just remembered one song: “Bury me not on the lone prairie”.

We made it to Ridge Line at Mile 37 and I was served up a cup of their famous “prairie pellets” (beanie weenies). Leaving the aid station we descended the hill and turned NW. The area from Ridgeline to Matfield Green at Mile 43 is the most beautiful on the course. My spirits picked up. I was looking forward to the turnaround at Lone Pine (Mile 50). It seemed just up the road. Well it was really up – up a long series of climbs and a very long haul. Here we experienced another prairie phenomenon – the retreating landmark. A tall tower marked Mile 47 and it seemed close – just over the hill. When we topped the hill it was over the next hill and so on. It just never seemed to get any closer. Finally we reached an unmanned aid station at the tower and turned north toward Lone Pine. Now I had another problem – I needed to “use the facilities” but there were no facilities and in fact no cover at all. It was all wide open and I did not want to be that exposed. I ran less and walked more just to make sure I’d make the porta-potty at Lone Pine. Deb was already there when I got there, having a blister “duct taped”. The race clock was 10:30, right on schedule! I changed my shoes and replaced some gear. All was not right though. I had to use the potty three times during the 20 minutes we were there. A sure sign o’ trouble.

What kind of trouble? Was I low on salt? High on salt? Overhydrated? Dehydrated? Ultrarunning is such an art balancing the body’s needs. When things are not balanced, the body lets you know with unpleasant results. There is no diagnostic printout, just unpleasant results. I had to squat by the road twice on the way back to the tower. I got over my shyness – progress. On the way back to Matfield Green (Mile 58) I began to feel my energy drain out. Deb was feeling great and running well with duct taped feet. She went on ahead and I hoped I would catch up. She was there at Matfield Green leaving as I was getting in. Unfortunately the wheels fell off for me there. I felt nauseous and sat down in the aid station. When I tried to get up I felt dizzy and had to lay down on the rocky floor. I began to shake all over from the cold temperatures, now that the sun was setting. I knew I was in big trouble. “Botto, use your brain” I thought. “When you picked up your electrolyte capsules at Lone Pine at least a half dozen were still remaining from the first 50 miles. Those were supposed to have been taken at the rate of two per hour but they were not - You are low on salt!” I needed more calories, too. Fortunately Nurse Nancy was volunteering at this aid station. Nurse Nancy made me comfortable, got me a warm-up suit, some broth with rock salt added (I had been avoiding that rock salt because it looked so nasty with black rocks in it.) and hot chocolate, cup after cup of hot chocolate. Like Glenda the Good Witch she waived her wand over me and I began to feel better. I sat up in the chair. By now more than an hour had passed and it was dark. Now I was afraid. It was 6+ miles to Ridge Line where I had a drop bag, mostly up hill. It was dark and I was alone. What if I was not really recovered?

Another runner was leaving the aid station and he said to me “You will feel better if you start moving. You won’t get any more recovered in that chair.” OK, I found my courage and I got up and left. I began to run little by little and I felt better. It was a long haul to Ridge Line (Mile 64) but I made it before 10:00pm. In the aid station tent I saw a tall man seated in a chair doctoring his feet. When I was ready to leave I invited him to run with me and we set off. He was very stiff and when he ran he barely shuffled, his long legs rigid like sticks. Yet he was able to walk very fast. As for me, I did not feel like running much. The rocks were taking a toll on my feet. I could feel that I was running on blisters covering the bottom and sides of my feet. Every footfall was painful and even more so when I ran as I applied more impact to the tender areas. I found out that my tall friend was a surgeon from Iceland. I could not pronounce his name so I called him “Doc”. I would run a little to catch up to Doc while he walked and then continue to run beside him when he ran.

As Doc and I progressed toward Texaco Hill a fierce headwind (Kansas breeze) came up. The wind was off and on mixed with misty rain and it felt like the breath of the Wicked Witch of the West. We reached Texaco Hill (Mile 69) about 11:40pm and it seemed that they were in a battle to keep the tents from blowing down. We prepared ourselves for a long (7 miles) trek to Teterville Road (Mile 76). This was a terrible hike with constant buffeting from the wind in total darkness on the rocky road. Coyotes howled an eerie chorus all the while. Our trek seemed to last forever but finally we came down off Texaco Hill and the wind at our lower elevation subsided. At the Teterville Road Aid Station at 1:30am I asked for pancakes but they told me were served at the next aid station. “How about some lentil soup?” I was tentative but it was really great tasting soup – never had better! Leaving the aid station my spirits were up because I knew the miles to the finish were being whittled away. There must have been some WD-40 in Doc’s soup because he loosened up and began to run more and more. I let him go. ‘ The road to Lapland (mile 83) was a minefield of golf ball to fist size rocks. I picked through it as best I could. At one point I felt a pain like a loose toenail sticking into my foot. I took my sock off and shook it out. I hate it when toenails come off and rattle around in your shoes. I wondered if my feet were going to make it. About that time I joined up with Marc Needleman of Chicago. He is a big guy with a lot of spunk. He was pretty much down to walking like I was though. We complained to each other about the roads. The Lapland Aid Station played a mean trick on us. We could see it very clearly an hour before we reached it. All the while it seemed close. I thought I saw people walking around in it. It was all a hallucination, probably. Miles went by and we were no closer. Finally we rounded a turn and it was right there!

At Lapland I finally got my pancakes. Leaving it at 4:00am for Battle Creek (Mile 92) we had to traverse the worst roads on the course. How much pain could I take? I wanted to click my heels together and be beamed to the finish line. My mind was full of that, and then there was another threat. Lightning on the horizon came closer and closer. I counted seconds after each flash to the clap that roared and rolled across the dark prairie. There is nothing I fear more on a run than lightning. Here we were completely exposed and definitely the highest objects around. I was terrified to see a strike and simultaneous clap perhaps a quarter mile away. I felt like the Cowardly Lion approaching the Wizard’s Throne Room. I prayed for God to stop the fireworks! I expect my prayers to be answered in due time but that flash was absolutely the last one I saw. I admit to being totally amazed. Even the rain that came later was brief and gentle. I thanked Him who is definitely in charge of those powerful prairie forces!

Marc and I reached Battle Creek at 6:30am, just before dawn. With only 8 miles to go our spirits were soaring as our bodies were dying. We still managed a shuffle run now and then. After sunup we could see the water tower marking the school and finish line. I thought we might finish about 8:30am but here again the race played a cruel joke by making us circle the entire town of Cassoday before the final mile of approach. Marc said “Lets run it in”. I said, “I don’t know if I can run that far but when I get close enough I’m going to sprint!” We ended up running the last quarter mile side by side and then he let me go as I sprinted to the finish in 27:15:06!

Mark Henderson was right there to help me get into warm clothing. He had won the race but had a very tough time and was almost beat by gutsy Sue Johnston of Vermont who turned out her lights to try and pass him in the darkness. Mark’s winning time was 18:50. I expected him to have slept all night but instead he stayed up watching for me. At the Awards Ceremony we got our big belt buckles and Mark received a homemade Kansas trophy (windmill sculpture). The trip home was made longer by the driving rain we experienced most of the way. We took turns sleeping as on the way up but had to stop a couple times to sleep – we were so exhausted. Mark pulled in my driveway Monday at 5:00am and slept a while longer before going home.

I was horrified by what I saw when I first pulled off my socks but a week has healed the worst of it. I don’t think I’ll ever run another “rocky road” 100 miler again. Nevertheless I benefited from the experience and will always treasure it. I am thankful for thoughts, prayers and support of my family and friends, especially Mark Henderson. Getting the job done took brains, courage and a heart for the Heartland. Now I know I have all three!

PS. Ron Paul finished his 50 miler in 10:35. Deb Cooney finished her first 100 in 24:33, “Doc” (Hoskuldur Kristvinsson) finished in 25:48, Marc Needleman finished just behind me in 27:16. Complete results and photos are posted on the Kansas Ultrarunners’ Society website: http://www.ksultrarunners.info/