September 11 is a day that really troubles me. I think back to the events of that day, and all the innocent people killed, and the way it changed this country forever, and it really upsets me. I’m proud to be an American, and I enjoy Independence Day, but I think I feel more of a sense of national pride on September 11. In my blog on Thursday, I told you guys to do something American. I don’t think I could have done anything more American that participate in the Patriots Run in Olathe, Kan.

The Patriots Run is a combo timed ultra (nine hours, 11 minutes) and a marathon. I participated in both. They both started at noon, but I entered each race so I could have two official times. The course is a fairly flat loop in a parking lot of a mall in Olathe, a Kansas City suburb. There were bands and DJs playing the entire time, I could hear the PA on about 75 percent of the course and there were a lot of people hanging out with pop-up tents, tailgating and watching the race.

I could smell grilling, there were American flags all over the place and I could hear people listening to college football games. Some folks even help up white boards with scores so those of us running would know how teams were doing. There was solid military participation in the event, relay teams of troops carrying big packs dressed in full fatigues. Two men carried large American flags for the duration of the run. Another had the names of three relatives killed on 9/11 on his back.

Near the end of the race, one of the Army teams ran the course carrying a huge log or something like that overhead (it must have been 15 feet long and 2-3 feet in diameter), drawing applause from spectators. The volunteers were great and lots of spectators were generously offering assistance. This race was run in the Heartland, and it was nice and humid with the hot sun blazing overhead. It’s a tribute to 9/11 victims and proceeds from the race go to charity — I think the Salvation Army, but I wasn’t sure. Basically, it was as American as it gets and I loved it. That all being said, I’ll talk a little bit about how I ran.

It was hot out — 80 degrees with 70 percent humidity, very difficult running conditions. The race started at noon and ended at 9:11. I checked hourly forecasts and I knew it was going to get progressively warmer (only slightly) until about 5 p.m. and we’d start to get shade sometime after 7 p.m. I was entered in the marathon and the ultra — I was more focused on the ultra, but I still wanted to do my best for the marathon.

When we took off, I knew within about a mile it was going to be a tough day. I hadn’t run all week since my 45-mile/7-hour race the next day. I rode the bike at the gym, but I wanted to minimize impact and pounding. My legs felt good walking around, but once I started running, I could tell they were dead. And of course, I was roasting in the heat. I knew it was going to be a long day.

I dragged through the marathon, but got slower and slower. I hit the half somewhere around 1:47 and went 3:46, which was good enough for fifth place in a small field on a hot day. If you’ve followed along this year, you know that’s nothing I’m happy about.

I ran the entire marathon, but while I didn’t walk during my 45 miles last week, I knew I’d use a run-walk strategy immediately after I completed 26.2 miles. There was a stretch of about 1/10 of a mile from the aid station around a curve that I walked, then after 3/10 of a mile of running, I walked 1/10 of a mile up a slight incline and then ran 1/2 a mile to complete each loop. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I was running miles in the high 8s by the end of the marathon and once I kept rolling with the walk breaks, those crept into the 10s, then eventually 11s and 12s.

At mile 30, I asked a spectator to borrow her phone to call my wife and let her know that I was OK. I’ve found that women like to know that their husbands are alive and well when they’re running in the sun for nine hours. I found out on that call that our oldest son accidentally spilled water on Tiff’s laptop. She started asking me all sorts of questions, but I had to remind her I was in the middle of a race and I needed to keep rolling!

When I was on lap 33, I heard the PA announcer say the ultra leader was on lap 33, but he didn’t say who it was. I thought it was entirely possible it was me, but I knew there could have been other people on the lead lap, too. So, I started to have thoughts about going for the win, even though that was still more than four hours down the road.

On lap 40, I stopped to call Tiff again and let her know I was OK. Everything sounded like it was going a little better back home. About five minutes into the lap, I passed a guy who was talking to a woman and I could hear him say he was on 40. I suspected he was my competition, although it was tough for me to know if he was a lap ahead, a lap behind or on the same lap. I just knew I needed to keep an eye out.

At about 7 p.m., I could feel both my calves feel like they were on the verge of cramping. I never use electrolyte tabs and I know that in long races in the sun, that’s pretty important. I had been drinking a lot of Gatorade at the aid station throughout the day, but at that point, I started eating a fair amount pretzels each time through to get the salt in my system. I knew it was going to be a matter of me hanging on until the end without blowing up. I was getting concerned.

My miles slipped down to about 12 minutes each. I had been looking at 55 miles as my goal for the race, but I could tell I was slipping down towards 52-53. For some reason, with about an hour to go, I caught a second wind. I called Tiff one last time at mile 48 and it sounded like everything was fine back home, which is nice. She had a rough day Friday and I hate it when that happens when I’m gone.

Anyways, once I left from there, I was doing math in my head and knew that 53 was looking good, but if I could average a little better than 11-minute loops, I would have a good shot at 54. It was cooling off, down to the high 60s or so, which made it a little bit easier. I started knocking off laps in the mid-10s and when I ran, I was in the mid-8s. I forget exactly what times I completed some of the later laps, but I knew after I hit 51 miles that I’d be able to hit 54 if I skipped my last three walk breaks. I was dreading it, because those helped me re-energize during the later parts of the day, but I knew that I’d been working so hard for so long, and I didn’t want it all to go to waste over a walk break.

With two laps to go, I crossed through with the guy I had seen on lap 40 and he told his friends he was excited, because he knocked out that lap in 9:30, which is exactly what I had done it in. I knew I had a race on my hands, but I was pretty tired. I took my walk break from the aid station. I needed to catch my breath and get one last drink before pushing on for the final 1.9 miles. I could see him gain quite a bit on me during that time, but physically, there was not a lot I could do. I had to walk.

I kept shuffling as well as I could and I don’t know how quick that mile was, but I’m pretty sure it was quicker than nine minutes. When I crossed the mat for mile 53, I knew I’d hit 54 because I had 13 minutes or so. But I needed to run that guy down! I didn’t know if he had lapped me or if he was just 1/4 lap ahead of me, but there was no sense not doing everything I could to pass him, just in case.

I went as hard as I could and could feel the twitching really bad in both hamstrings and both calves. I came up on him with about a 1/2 mile to go, right at the top of the incline I had been walking. I was thinking about hanging behind him and passing later, but I felt strong, so I just powered by and kept rolling. I was striding funny, because my legs were about to lock up, but they didn’t until after I finished. I ran that last mile in 7:53. Sure enough, we were on the same lap and he was the race leader, so I won the race! We both completed the same number of laps, but since I finished about two minutes ahead of him, I took first place and he was second.

I continued on after the finish walking for a bit until the clock hit 9:11. I couldn’t quit until the end in a race like that. It was a lot of fun and a great way to spend a day. I know I’m doing what I’m doing for Train 4 Autism, but I ran this one thinking a lot more about September 11 and how proud I am to be an American.

So that’s all, I guess. 42 and an ultra down, 19 marathons to go!

I always try to write my race reports as quickly as possible. Do them, don’t look back and move on. But also, the closer to the race I write it, the more accurately I can remember the details and the emotions. I’m writing this from an airplane fewer than three hours after I finished the Operation Jack 7-Hour Challenge in Portland Sunday, so maybe I’m being dramatic when I say this might have been the best experience I’ve had this year, but it was absolutely awesome.

I’m going to hit the running details quickly so I can move on to the non-running details, which are more important regarding this race.

This was a seven-hour timed race around a loop in a park in Portland, Oregon, that I measured at 0.94 miles on my Garmin. My goal was 45 miles for the day. I think I kind of just picked that number, but I figured 6.5 miles per hour for seven hours was a decent goal to aim for. In theory, that would have put me at 50 somewhere around 7:45, which is decent for a flat course, which this was aside from a couple of small inclines and declines.

The only problem is that I ran my 41st marathon of the year the day before, thrashing my quads on a big downhill course in Pocatello, Idaho (recap here), so I knew this would be painful from start to finish. This race was put on as a fundraiser for Operation Jack, so I didn’t mind doing it. On paper, I looked at it as an addition to the schedule and though, yeah, it would be tough, but oh well. But then I had to get up and run for seven hours!

I wanted to go out and just run it at the pace and effort that I typically would for an easy training run. I needed to lock into that “go forever” effort and then go forever. Well, for seven hours. I took the first lap very slowly, at about a 10:00/mile pace, because my legs hurt really bad. But within about three miles, I gradually pushed it up to about 8:15/mile and felt pretty good. My quads hurt pretty bad, but I didn’t worry about being able to run for a while.

So, I just started knocking out the miles. There was an aid station at the start line and I stopped about once every three miles for a two-minute break or so. Every other stop, I texted out an update to my wife and to my Twitter feed. She was worried about me (what wife wouldn’t be worried about her husband trying to run 45 miles?), so I killed two birds with one stone with a dual-purpose mass text several times.

I was targeting 45 miles, so I started doing math in my head to track my progress. By about 15 miles in, I was looking like I’d hit it somewhere between 20 and 30 minutes before the 7-hour mark. I started thinking about 47 or 48, but I knew I’d eventually fade.

I was pretty encouraged when I hit mile 25, because I did the math and only need to average 10:00/mile the rest of the way to hit 45. After about mile 28 or so, I really started to hurt pretty bad and I started to slow. I started running 8:30s, then 8:45s, then by the time I got late into the 30s, I was running at around 9:00/mile. I was a little slower than after mile 40, running some miles in the 9:30 range.

The breaks probably added up to about 20-30 minutes, but I obviously needed them for water and food. I knew I had 45 locked up with about an hour to go, although I was still cautious, because there’s no guarantees when you’re at mile 40+, especially the day after a marathon. I’m not one of those 100-mile ultra runners.

Early in the last hour, I knew that I hadn’t walked the entire day, that aside from when I had stopped at the aid station, I had run the entire time. I was out there running for Operation Jack and I was also running as part of a fun bet I had going on representing my alma mater, Kansas State University, against a grad from our rival, the University of Kansas. Well, there’s no quit in Jack and there’s no quit in a Wildcat and I became really adamant about not walking.

I didn’t, and not only did I run every step I took, when I crossed the start line at 6:58:40, there was no possible way I was going to complete another lap. But I kept running until the clock hit 7:00:00. Down to the very last second, it was important to me to not quit. And I didn’t. Of course, as luck would have it, I got to finish on one of the inclines. But it was awesome. I stopped my Garmin and saw that I covered 45.26 miles. I was pretty happy with that. I mean, how could I not be happy with being able to run 45.26 miles the day after I ran my 41st marathon of the year? I’m not an elite athlete — I’m just a guy who’s inflicting a lot of pain on his body this year. I was thrilled to run that far. From an individual standpoint, Saturday’s marathon seemed like a loss. Sunday’s was a win.

But enough about that. The running was a small part of it. The most important part was what this did for Operation Jack. First, some background. Operation Jack supporter Deb Bosilevac approached me with the idea of doing a 7-hour timed race as a fundraiser for Operation Jack over Labor Day Weekend. I told her that if she could get it together and get some runners, I’d do it. I’d still keep Pocatello on the schedule, but I’d add the race on and extend my travels over the weekend.

I put her in the loop with a marathon runner I know in the Portland area, Steve Walters, and it didn’t take long to make it a go. I added it on to the schedule and was in the background on the planning, but I didn’t have a lot of time to contribute.

When all was said and done, though, it was an amazing event. I stayed with Steve’s parents and they hosted a pasta dinner the night before the race. I had met Steve and Deb before, but I got to met both of their families, and a few running friends. Nothing but nice people, and it was really cool to see everybody coming together and supporting Operation Jack. I’ve said this before, but it’s really weird for me to get support — in a way, I feel undeserving. I mean, if I can do something, how hard can it be? What’s the big deal?

But people believe in the cause and what I’m trying to do, so when I see folks coming together, I feel very fortunate. I believe I was led down this path to try to run all these races and make a difference, and I get to experience a lot of really cool things. This was another amazing experience in an amazing year.

For the race, there were close to 20 people out there, several of them wearing the Operation Jack tech shirts I gave them for participating. There were people out there volunteering at 6 a.m. It was surreal. They were all doing this for the cause. I wish I could find the words to explain how it made me feel, but I really can’t. I guess the best way I can put it is to say that I’m really blessed.

During the race, I talked to one of the volunteers, Layla Bohm, and complained about my physical pain. I asked her, jokingly, “Why am I doing this to myself?” Her answer was pretty simple and really made me smile. “Your son!” Jack doesn’t directly benefit from all this, but I truly believe that what I’m doing is going to make a difference in the world, even if it won’t be a huge difference. Since I know I wouldn’t be doing this if not for his autism, it made me pretty happy to think about his cute little face and know that he’s going to impact people.

One other cool thing from the race — about 18 or so miles in, there was a group of three women who asked me if I was Jack. Apparently, they’d talked to somebody and saw all the OJ shirts running through the park, so they wanted to know what Operation Jack was all about. I talked with them for a few minutes. As is frequently the case, I got the “wow” comments about all the marathons, which is why I’m doing this, because that led into the talk abut Train 4 Autism. They know people affected by autism, so I’m hopeful they’ll participate with Train 4 Autism or bring other people in at some point in time. That alone would make the race worth it.

But that won’t be the only benefit. I need to add everything up, but I think this race ended up raising about $1,800 or so for Operation Jack, which means $1,800 for Train 4 Autism, which hopefully means that someday $18,000 will get raised for autism-related charities.

I’m in a lot of pain right now. But it was totally worth it and I feel pretty fortunate to be feeling the way I am right now.

41 and an ultra down. 20 marathons to go!

My calves twitching on their own after the race.