‘Twas a small crowd in mixed attire. Some wearing singlets and shorts, others in long pants and jackets. It’s a tad cold, so we eye-ball each other and wonder who guessed right about the weather’s intentions. Yesterday, it was overcast, cold, rainy, and very windy all day. With it as reference and the locals dressed for heat, I compromise with shorts, long shirt, and vest. In the first mile, warm already and getting hotter, the outcome is obvious.

Kansas, they say, is flat. But, I had been warned this course would surprise me with it’s irregularities. ‘Expect a bit of a ride’, Chuck tells me. I can see for a long ways, if only because there are few trees and plenty of prairie grass. The hills ripple one after the other, creeks cutting deep between each one. Phil warned us “if you see a tree, consider taking a pee, because it might be awhile before you see another”. The soft ground is just dry enough, except for a few marshy areas and the creeks. A trough intermittently cuts a ditch down the middle of the single track, so we have a multitude of options. Up the middle of the rut, left side, right, or off trail through the grass. Each wet area sends me into the grass, but usually, I just hang onto the trail.

I can’t quite settle into a comfortable pace. I stay back and let the rabbits go, but Joyce & I still manage to pass some of the fast starters. Each of us, trying to find a comfortable pace, and following the contour of the undulating hills, we warm quickly. Peeling off vest and gloves, I tell Joyce it’s going to be slow & ugly today. My legs are dead already! Slowing down, I slip back while she holds pace and drifts ahead of me. Within minutes, I can see her on the next ridge, running strong.

Descending quickly to a creek and looking for a place to dry-cross, ready to jump, my shoelaces snag on a stump and trip me. Lassoed and hog-tied, twisting as I fall, I’m thrown to the ground. Hitting the ground backwards and sliding headfirst towards the creek, I stop short, anchored to the stump. Sitting up quickly and untying myself, I’m pleased to see there are no witnesses. I stand up and carefully step across the creek, no worse for wear, but for this long mud smear down my backside. Unexpectedly stimulated, I suddenly feel much better now, and begin to pick up pace.

Tired legs forgotten, I get a buzz going as I start to go past some of the folks who just passed me. Five minutes later, I’m back with Joyce and pushing the pace. She seems puzzled but not surprised by my reappearance. We have been here before many times. The trail dips in and out of arroyos, twisting, turning, climbing down, and back out of endless creeks, such that I cant’ really tell which direction I’m heading in. The wind whistling through the grass feels so soothing, not so strong as to be a nuisance. Joyce & I have been practicing sprinting downhill, pushing the limits of control and recklessness, but having fun with it regardless. We catch and pass Teresa on one of the relatively long downhills. We stay dry for awhile, but eventually find a mud wallow that cannot be forded dry. I wade in up to my knees, enjoying the cold massage on my legs. Joyce checks both banks, looking for an escape. Finding none, she wades in behind me, with Teresa right behind her. A steady climb follows soon after, but I feel like running it. The cold water stimulation on my legs feels the need, and plus, the water squishing out of my shoes feels good, like being barefoot in the mud. Hard to ignore a primal urge like this. With Joyce on my heels, we take the next hill quickly and sprint down the other side.

I can see a good distance in every direction, from treeless grass hills to a large body of water. Hard charging the down hills and walking comfortably up, we pull in a few more folks, and tuck in behind Molly Gibb. She holds a constant gait, moving up hill and down with equal ease, while we, like startled rabbits, run in fits and starts. Slowly she comes back to us while Teresa pulls in right behind us. With all the makings of a good three horse race between these three ladies, I get to watch from within. I think I’ll enjoy this.

I can see Phil’s aid station 100yards across the field, but the trail doesn’t go that way. We turn away from it! If not for Molly and a few others ahead of us, I’d think I was going the wrong way. We run in the opposite direction, until we finally turn back towards the station. Heading strait for it, we come in just as Molly leaves. We toss all our unnecessary extra clothes, vests, gloves, and shirts in the tent corner. We left a bag here with Ensure & GU. Emptying each, we refill our water bottles and move on.

Joyce & Teresa follow me out visiting each other, while Chuck joins me in conversation. It’s a wide, flat, jeep road with runners coming and going on this 4mile out and back. Running most of the way out, a right turn and another quarter mile down to a rock wrapped in colored ribbons. Obviously, this must be Mushroom State Park with it’s odd shaped rocks. Touching the rock. I turn around and head back into the wind. Hadn’t noticed it being so strong while it was behind me. Uphill into the wind is definitely walking time. Chuck & Teresa push ahead while Joyce and I slow to a walk, a fine opportunity to eat some cookies carried out from the station. Lots of folks on the road now. Appears that most of us were all rather close together. Chuck Zeugner & Chris are coming in as we go out. The wind isn’t so noticeable after the left turn, so we start running again and quickly catch our new friends. We finish the road, pass through the aid station and continue back into the grass. Chuck’s daughter joins us for a little while, then turns around and heads back. Chuck won the Heartland 100, running with our good friend Mark Henderson. We swap a few stories while we continue to maintain our quick pace.

Broken bricks cover the ground at the water crossings, making for a very rough ride. Joyce & I continue to hammer the downhills, eventually separating ourselves from Chuck & Teresa, and closing in on Molly. Soon, I’m right behind Molly, but Joyce has fallen back. I stay behind her for a bit, expecting Joyce to catch me up again, but she doesn’t. I pass Molly on a steep downhill and she passes me back on the next climb. We repeat this again, but this time I keep running on the next climb just to avoid repeating the pattern. Molly falls behind, and I can’t find Joyce. Looking back, I can’t seem to place her, but the terrain gets a bit more rugged and it would not be hard to lose anyone through here. I keep on pushing.

The trail rides a roller-coaster through here, with multiple water crossings, a deep sand descent that feels like deep powder snow, and a short gut-wrenching climb. Looking back for Molly and Joyce, curious which one I’ll see first, I spot a group of riders on horseback sitting on a distant ridge, just watching. Reminds me of the old westerns with the Indians watching from a high vantage. I’m running all the uphills now, except this last big boy that slows me to a stumble. On top, I look back one more time. Seeing no one, I turn and continue. I can see the finish area just a ridge ahead. Crossing a road, and a short hump, I turn parallel to the next road, moving strait back to the finish. Intersecting the paved road, I climb on and look up. The finish is just ahead. I pick it up, running to the top and finishing comfortably in 4:25. Five minutes later, Molly enters the road with Joyce right behind her. Up the road they come, one right behind the other, without changing position or distance from one another. A few minutes later, Teresa comes in.