A Tale of Two Toenails; How to Fix Runner's Toenails

Lots of runners have a toenail story.   Here's mine, with photos and not for the faint of heart.   But if you've had blackened toenails from marathoning, you'll recognize a lot of this.   Here we go.

During the summer of 2016, as I was in a stretch of high-mileage training leading to my (failed) Boston Qualifying attempt at the 2016 Chicago Marathon, I noticed my right big toenail began to turn black and becoming "loose".   I'd seen this happen several times in higher mileage seasons previously.  I knew it would eventually fall off as a new nail formed below.

My left big toenail, however, was a different story.   Rather than laying flat on the toe, as was the case on the (blackened, ugly) right side, it was gradually pushing up, forming an "A-Frame" shape.   In fact, on the morning of that big race in Chicago, I bumped my left toenail as I got dressed in the 4:30am darkness.  It hurt like crazy but eased and I ran anyway and thought little else about the toes.

Unlike earlier times, though, both toes kept looking pretty much the same.  That right nail never fell off and the "A-Frame" started looking more like a Swiss chalet than a toenail.   Nearly a year later, they looked like this on August 27, 2017

Baseline--Aug 27, 2017

Here's a close up of the left nail...you can see how it was forming the A shape.  It was horribly misshapen. 

Left big toenail arch--Aug 27, 2017

Rather gruesome, actually.  Yet I didn't know what to do, got busy during the fall, it didn't hurt if I didn't bump it, I didn't want to think about it, so I ignored it and and and and....you get the story.  Running continued.  

Well, I eventually qualified for Boston on November 3, 2017 with these ugly toenails still tucked in my shoes.  In the new year though, the left toe started hurting more.  Increasingly, I'd whack it against my other foot while sleeping and wake up in pain, left toe throbbing.   

I finally asked my chiropractor about the toes.   He's a runner and winced when I took off my sock.   "You need to get those fixed, Joe" he immediately stated.   "I know a good podiatrist in town who can take care of you."   

I made an appointment for January 23, 2018 and took some photos the night before.   Super ugly.   

Before Podiatrist- Jan 22, 2018

Raising the roof on my tiny Swiss chalet...that arch on my left toe just kept growing.  

Left Big Toe, Jan 22, 2018

And the right toenail was dog ugly.  While I knew a new nail was growing underneath, it was not making an appearance.   

Right Big Toe, Jan 22, 2018

I drove across town on January 23, making my first-ever visit to a podiatrist, no clue what to expect.   I walked in, filled out the insurance paperwork and was shown the exam room.   I took off my shoes and socks, plopped into what looked like a slightly elevated recliner rocker (absent the TV remote control) and soon the affable foot doctor walked in.   He looked at my toes and asked "How did we get here?"

"I'm a marathoner."

"I would have guessed.  Toes like these only happen with folks who run insane distances or folks to work on their feet for many hours every day."  I wasn't really a surprise to him.   And it's good when your doctor isn't surprised by your condition.

We talked about what he could do and he offered an unexpected question: "So, do you want me to just remove those toenails?"   So, will they then grow back?  "No, I mean permanent removal.  Toenails serve no real purpose anyway.   I'll kill the base with acid."

Hmmm...had to think quickly.   "You know what, let's just trim them back and I'll think about the permanent fix later."   He was fine with that.   Yeah, so was I.

I was surprised he then just sat down on a stool, put a bright light on my toes and began to get to work.   For some reason, I expected a little more prep work, kind of like what happens at the dentist. Instead, he pulled out some tools and got on with it.  They looked like stainless steel electrician's tools.

I decided to close my eyes and lean back.   That proved a wise choice.

He started on my blackened, right big toenail.   I felt a few clips but in a minute or so, I heard him say "OK, that looks better."  Zero discomfort.  Nice.   I kept my eyes closed and he shifted and began to dismantle the A-frame mounted on my left big toe.

The first couple of clips felt totally different from the right toe.  I could sense the snap of each clip vibrate through my toe and foot.   I could tell he was clipping carefully and intentionally. I felt him position himself for each clip.   Then one clip really hurt.   My leg shook, involuntarily.

"How you doing?"   I'm OK, doc, but sure felt that one.   "Well, I have two more clips to make...can you make it or do you want me to numb this a bit? "    I paused briefly, mentally imagining myself at mile 24 of a marathon.   It all hurts, but we're almost done.   I told him to keep rolling.  

He did...and the final two more clips hurt.   But then he was done.   Turned out those final three clips were the "money cuts" as he extracted the ingrown toenail from the fleshy part of my toe.

I opened my eyes at last, looked down and was stunned by how different my toes looked in such a brief time.   The left nail was bleeding a bit...he put on some antibiotic cream, gauze and an adhesive bandage.   "Change that up every day and it'll be fine in a couple days."   And that was it.  

My left leg hurt.  I pulled on my socks and shoes...and, to my utter surprise, even in the first few steps walking out of the office, I immediately noticed how much better it felt.

Here's what it looked like after the visit.   The two toenails were cut way back.

Post Podiatrist, Jan 23, 2018

The A-Frame was gone.  The left side of that toenail had clearly pierced the skin, causing the pain.   The podiatrist cut it way back to relieve that pain and took off a lot of the nail.  The minor ooze of blood was gone in two days.   

Left big toenail, after podiatrist trimmed on Jan 23, 2018

That ugly black right toenail?  Gone.   Only this remained.   

Right nail close up, post podiatrist, Jan 23, 2018

The improvement was instant.  That entire day, I noticed my left foot landing much "flatter"...in retrospect, I realized I had gradually begun walking on the outside of my left foot, avoiding discomfort due to the ingrown left toenail.  While my left leg tingled for a few hours, that quickly diminished and I felt nothing but improvement the next morning.   It made me so glad I made the appointment and got the foot fixed.

My running continued with my new and improved toenails.   Yet, another nagging problem was revealing itself, one about which I had similarly been in denial.   I noticed how my left heel would hurt, sometimes very badly, when I took my first steps out of bed each morning.   In mid February, on a planned 18 mile long run, that foot shut down, forcing me to walk home.   I had to admit...Plantar Fasciitis was in my life.   I think it was no coincidence that the PF occurred in my left foot...I strongly suspect the involuntary pivoting of my left foot to avoid pain from the ingrown toenail over many months, perhaps a year or more, contributed to the strains which describe PF.   I'll write more about the PF in another post, eventually. 

I took about five weeks off from running, getting restarted in late March, 2018.  I eased into a couple of half marathons as the PF got better, with no complaint from either big toenail.   I even ran a 40 mile trail race in late April, the second longest run I've ever had.    

By mid-May, the toenails were growing back nicely, dare I say, almost looking "normal".   It had been quite a while.   

4 months post podiatrist, May 12, 2018

I was astounded how steadily the left toenail flattened out.   

Left Big Toe, May 12, 2018.

Right Big Toe, looking better, May 12, 2018

As they grew back and not wanting to re-do this ordeal, I ordered these toenail trimmers that looked more like the podiatrist's tools as opposed to the dinky clippers that didn't get to the corners.  I've been very pleased with how precise and strong these clippers perform.   I feel like I'm staying ahead of the toenails now.   Note: these are very sharp and should never be available to children.   

These bad boys are sharp and precise

The toes faded as an attention getter to me.   My running got back on track and I finished  The Sandhills Marathon on June 2, as well as other local races.  

But by mid summer, I noticed a disappointingly familiar pain, this time in my right big toenail.  The pain showed up when I pressed down on the toenail.  The toenail, growing into the toe, pressed harder and triggered pain.   The good news in this was I knew who to call.    I set up an appointment with my friendly podiatrist and headed back.   Here's what the toes looked like the night before my second trip for a trim.   

Looking better but pain in right toe, July 16, 2018

It's interesting to me how the image of the nails is not nearly as grim as the earlier examples.   I'm sure this is because I acted sooner, rather than later to address the issue.   

This trip to the podiatrist was really quite easy and had hardly any discomfort at all.   The doctor made a few key clips and pronounced it good.  No blood, no oozing this time at all.   Here's the "after" photo.  

After 2nd trip to podiatrist, July 17, 2018

The obvious change was merely a shortening of the right nail.   But he dug it out of the flesh and the discomfort went away immediately. 

So, that's the story for now.   Here are my toes five months after the second trip to the podiatrist.   

Nov 2, 2018--How I hope they stay

A long story I hope continues to have a happy ending.   I hope this may have been helpful for you runners with similar toenail stories.  

Persevere.  No matter the condition of your toenails. 

.   

ADDENDUM, December 1, 2018

An Ultra-running podiatrist in one of my on-line running groups read this and offered some useful professional insight.   Many thanks to Dr. Bill Johncock of Hickory, NC for his generous perspective, below, in italics.  

Podiatrist here.  Here are some of my take-aways: 

1) Toenails will likely be lost/black/irritated if you run long enough.  It's kind of a badge of honor. My record is losing 6 of 10 toenails after a 100K trail race in Virginia after kicking multiple rocks buried beneath leaves on the trail.  Yes, they all were sore, yes I lost all of them, yes they all grew back. 

2) Black toenails are OK and will typically eventually come off on their own.  But if they are infected, you need to have them addressed.  Preferably by a Podiatrist or someone that know what they are doing. 

3) If the nails grow back irregularly so as to become painful (see Joe's story above), go see a podiatrist and they may need to address the issue. 

4) Losing toenails can increase the risk of getting toenail fungus.  This can be much more challenging to resolve. 

5) Pedicures are not evil, but you must be careful to see someone who cleans their instruments well between their clients.  If they don't clean their instruments well and that person has fungus, you may well obtain the fungus yourself.  It is not a well regulated industry.  Again, pedicures are not the problem.  Bad pedicurists are.  Just be sure they are using clean instruments, clean supplies, etc. 

6) As for the question on how to prevent black toenails, having about a thumbnail length from the end of your longest toe and the end of the shoe is important to be sure the shoe is not too tight or too loose.  But again, if you run long enough, you're likely to get black toenails at some time.  My 2 cents worth!

Many thanks, Bill!

.

Race Report: Indianapolis Monumental Marathon 2018

ORN:  26.2 miles, 4:33:51, 10:28/mile, run thru 20, then 4/1 through 25, then run

Summary:  I finished a marathon, felt good, on a perfect day to run.  Yet, I left a little disappointed.   On reflection, I figured out both the disappointment and the plan forward.   And, once more, I realize every marathon has its lesson.

Details:

I finished the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon on November 3 and, once more, it was a very good experience.  It brought back a ton of very fond memories, since one year earlier I qualified for Boston at this race.

Having run this race at least six times now, I have the logistics figured out.   Or so I thought.   I got a break, when a friend of a friend was available to pick up my packet for me on Thursday evening before the race.   That simplified things.

My Bib and Cubs Cheer

But logistics got a lot more interesting when an email arrived late Friday afternoon from the Race Director telling all participants the traffic would be "complex" on race morning the next day.  None other than President Trump came to downtown Indy for a Friday night rally.   Further, he was staying in a hotel one block from the start/finish line.  Oh my, the RD in me grimaced for the race staff.  As a result,  many streets near all the race parking areas were cordoned off completely from 5pm Friday until 11am Saturday.   This also hampered Friday night packet pick up (I was sure glad I had mine in hand).  Traffic patterns for this race are normally tight, with 13,000 runners converging and this only made it worse.   So I studied the street maps and literally had  route Plans A, B, C and D ready to get to my already-reserved parking spot.   And decided to leave even earlier than planned.   

I left home at 4:48am, had an easy drive to Indy and quickly determined Plan A was a bad idea.   I shifted to Plan B and it was blocked off too.   Plan C gave hope until a half block from the entry ramp for the parking garage.   Plan D activated, I made a turn and, wonderfully, discovered the small, single-lane, back entrance to the parking garage.   The QC code worked perfectly and I eased into a parking spot about 60m from the finish line at 6:04am.   Two hours ahead of the gun, I was set.  

Pre-race in Parking Garage

I got the legs comfortable by walking around the start/finish area early, the calm before the storm, so to speak.  I saw the security set up around the hotel at which the President stayed, as well as a few of the protesters gathered who, frankly, looked comical.  I went back to the car, relaxed, got dressed and walked to the starting grid about 30 minutes before the 8:00am gun.  

It was a perfect, perfect weather day on which to run.   Zero wind, sunny skies, temps around 40F at the start and around 50F by the time I finished.  Wow...so rare to get such a day on which to run a marathon.

I went out, as planned, with the 4:30 pace group (which is a 10:18/mile pace).   It worked...we crossed the 10K timing mat at a 10:15 pace and hit the half marathon mark in 2:14:11, also a 10:15 pace.  I felt pretty good until mile 18, when I started to feel some odd cramping in my right leg.   I hit the 30K timing mat still with the pace group but starting to leak a bit, slowing to a 10:18/mile pace.   By the 20 mile mark, I finally had to let the pace group continue.   The cramps/tightness in the right leg was just too much, my endurance lagging.  

I had to shift to a run/walk from my steady run and the pace group slowly drifted out ahead of me.   While it was disappointing to slow down, that was the best I could do with the right leg acting up, inexplicably.   It was a time of reflection, remembering how I "toughed it out" in this very same section of the course a year earlier.   Not so today.  

We made the right turn onto Meridian Street and I finally got it back together by mile 24.5 and ran the rest of the way...with one wonderful exception.  At the mile 26 marker, in front of the State House, were our son and his wife, waiting for me!  David had run the half marathon and Susan was there to cheer him on and they stuck around for two more hours, waiting to see me in.   What a treat to give them a big hug and let them know how much I appreciated them.   With an extra hop in my step I hauled around the final right turn and crossed the finish line in 4:33:51.   

Immediately Post Race, at Finish Line

I didn't hang around too long, post race, just enough to enjoy some chocolate milk, get my gear, change into some dry clothes and eat a bit.   

One fun fact:  This was the first time I wore my new Purdue singlet at a big race...what fun that was!   Got a lot of "Boiler Up!" cheers along the way, a big deal in a town that seems to favor our arch rival from the southern part of the state.   I'm pretty sure I'll wear this same shirt in Boston. 

On the drive home, this introverted runner-engineer could finally process the day and came up with two big lessons.  

Quality of training matters.   I simply did neither adequate miles nor any speedwork through the summer or early fall.   I messed around too much with a "low mileage" approach to training as I came off the PF I had last spring.   And that meant I was only set to finish a marathon but not run it strong.  There are no short cuts.   This became clear.

Appreciate the days when it works.   It was a year ago at this very marathon I BQed, on a day when everything lined up and worked perfectly.   Those days are rare.   When it happens, embrace it.   I'll likely seldom, if ever, have as perfect a weather day in which to run as I did in this event.   Yet, even with that, the race was not what I had hoped it would be. 

Where to go next?   I've done quite a bit of thinking.   With Boston looming in April, I'll do some rethinking on training going forward.  Lots of cold weather runs, of course, here in Indiana.   I'll find a system and see if I can come back.  

Final Stats:  First half, 2:14:11 (10:15/mile); Second half, 2:19:41 (10:40/mile).

Placement: Overall 2,996th.  Men (65-69), 27th of 51.

Marathon/Ultra finish #84 

Thanks for reading.   

Persevere.

.

Tourists in Washington, DC--Photos from our trip in August, 2018

Off topic from running here, but wanted a place to stash some photos and one video...enjoy!

On the first week of August, we took a long-planned trip to Washington, DC.   We hadn't been there in a long time and just decided to be tourists and see touristy things.   It worked well and proved far more thought provoking than we had imagined.

Long-time friends, Stan and Ann Marie, had invited us to stay with them, using their Virginia home as a base for our forays.   It was a lovely gesture and it was terrific to spend a lot of time with them.   We drove to DC on Saturday, August 3 and got going on Sunday.

Sunday morning,we went to church with our hosts and got to hear Stan preach, which was a nice blast from the past.   Sunday afternoon,we visited the Udvar-Hazy Air and Space Museum near Dulles Airport.   Part of the Smithsonian Museum system, it is a HUGE aircraft hangar with many planes, very cleverly displayed.

Just after entering, we saw the Enola Gay, the B29 which dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima.   Arguably, the most profound airplane ever.

Did I mention it was big??   Yep, here is the last Concorde to ever fly...the full airplane.   

And tucked under the wings of these large planes, were many other aircraft, including supposedly the smallest airplane to ever fly. 

They had a large wing just for spacecraft, dominated by the Space Shuttle Discovery.   I had no idea just how large it really was...standing next to it was awesome.   

One pleasant surprise was this Beechcraft twin from the late 30s, likely a plane produced while my Dad worked in the Beechcraft plant in Wichita before WW II broke out.    

It was a first-class museum, with catwalks arranged to get you up close with many, many important aircraft. 

Sunday evening, Stan and Ann Marie set up a chance to have dinner with Debbie and Phil, folks with whom we worked in 1976-78 in Swaziland.   Terrific to catch up with them.  

On Monday, Gretchen and I headed to the heart of Washington, the National Mall.   Taking the Metro to avoid traffic and parking hassles was a smart move...and, walking up out of the Smithsonian subway station, we saw the Washington Monument in one direction, the US Capitol Building in the other.  We were right where we wanted to be.  

We spent almost all day exploring the various Smithsonian museums along the mall.   From great art to the Hope Diamond, we enjoyed it all and were on our feet a lot.   It was super hot outdoors, so it was nice to be inside in AC most of the day.   

We decided to miss the rush hour on the Metro and found a spot to eat dinner, which turned out to be next to a US Navy Memorial, which we were surprised to find, north of the Mall.  

Amongst the many plaques commemorating aspects of Navy life was one noting the first time an airplane launched from a ship.   

I smiled as I looked closely, pretty sure what I would find.

The pilot of that first shipboard launch was Eugene Ely...which was my own father's name!   Of course, this event took place a full five years before my Dad was born but our family has always enjoyed this historical detail.   It was nice to see his name, if not him, in this famous place. 

We spent all day Tuesday, August 7, at Mount Vernon, the home of George Washington. 

While both of us had visited Mount Vernon as teenagers in the late sixties, neither of us had any memory of it at all.  There was much to learn about our first president; he seemed a remarkably innovative man, agriculturally, governmentally and militarily. 

The staff at Mount Vernon also faced squarely the problematic fact of Washington as a slave owner.   We went on an hour-long docent tour of the grounds discussing the matter.   Much more to this than I can capture here, but one item captured much.  

Washington's 8,000+ acre estate ultimately had just over 300 enslaved persons.  They lived, worked and died on this estate.   And where were they buried?     Perhaps 60 meters or so from Washington's own tomb is a wooded area which turns out to be the final resting place for many of those who worked the land, living there as property, not as persons.  No records remained of these burials, no markers on any grave and even the discovery of the cemetery area took time.

Relatively recently, Mt Vernon has build a monument and seating area in the slave burial area.   We spent a good 45 minutes in and around this area, speaking at length with two docents familiar with the matter.   

Archaeologists are also using X-Ray technology to methodically explore the ground under this area and, without disturbing any human remains, have definitively located 75 individuals' resting places.   They estimate they will find many more.  While unable to individually identify the remains, the mere location of the bodies restore a touch of the humanity which each had lost. 

Indeed, twice each day now, the staff conduct a brief ceremony to honor these enslaved individuals, telling the story of the burial place.   Gretchen and I both participated in the ceremony, as the docent asked for volunteers to read a paragraph about the life and role of one of them.   It was a moving moment. 

We took Stan and Ann Marie out to dinner afterwards and had much substantive conversation on our day.   And fish tacos always work for me.   

On Wednesday, we headed back to the heart of Washington.   We hopped off the Metro at the wonderfully-named Foggy Bottom-GWU stop.   The day's objective was to visit a number of Washington's famous memorials.   First off was the Vietnam Memorial.  I'd been here several times but G had never seen it.   It's so amazingly designed and pulls you in.

The polished granite simply lists the names of those who died there.   The sheer magnitude of our loss is almost overwhelming.   

G and I are fortunate to not directly know anyone who died in Vietnam.   Yet, looking up the alphabetical listing of names, I did find one with our surname.  While not related to me and I have no other knowledge of this Ely, it is still sobering to see my name there and realize he, just like every other person named on the wall, left a family behind and many unfulfilled dreams.  

We had a spontaneous discussion with a Canadian couple while standing along the memorial.   We appreciated their empathy.

I liked the sculpture of these three soldiers, part of the memorial as well.   The art of the memorial enhance the memory and honors the fallen of Vietnam.   

 From the Vietnam Memorial, we walked to the Lincoln Memorial.   Massive and impressive.   What more can I say?

I've been to the Lincoln Memorial several times but had never noted inscribed on the wall  to Lincoln's left is his second inaugural address, made while the Civil War still raged.   It would be good reading for all of us in this divisive political moment.    

We then turned and proceeded to walk the length of the Mall, all the way to the Capitol building, in the distance here, on a very hot day.   

We stopped first at the Korean War Memorial which neither of us had seen.   It had it's own appeal, yet is a war about which many of us know little.   

Farther along, is the relatively new World War II memorial, almost at the base of the Washington Memorial.   

This quote about the most famous of battles in the Pacific reminded me of another museum we enjoy and is special to our family.   

By this point, it was very, very hot, so we were relieved to find this hidden lunch boutique near the Washington Monument and cooled off for a while in the midst of the welcoming, intimate and special setting.   

We walked on and visited the National Botanic Gardens.   It looked wonderful, yet we were just so hot (it was 3pm by then) we couldn't absorb it at the level we'd have liked.   Perhaps another time, in cooler weather.   There was much there.

We then caught the Metro to the National Portrait Gallery, at the strong suggestion of our son Matt and our friend from dinner on Sunday, Debbie.  As the name suggests, it presents American history through the eyes of portrait artists.  We could have spent more time but chose to go through the history of the American presidency, with portraits from Washington to Obama.    

I found this early photograph of Lincoln very compelling.

And other portraits were funny.   Here's the long view...to the left is a tiny portrait of Richard Nixon.   In the center is a Huge portrait of Jimmy Carter.   Someone chose them.   

We bid Stan and Ann Marie well on Thursday morning and headed home by way of the Antietam National Battlefield, the crucial Civil War battle about 60 miles west of Washington, DC in rural Maryland.   Being away from any commercial development, the authorities have been able to purchase the multiple square miles over which the battle took place and reconstructed the farm buildings, tree lines and crops which were present for the battle in 1862.  

We heard two presentations at the Visitor's Center which oriented us, then went on a driving tour of the entire battlefield, seeing many markers like this along the way.   

And I summarized my observations in the moment on this video from the high ground held by Gen. Robert E. Lee during the entire battle.   

So that was our trip.   I so enjoyed sharing this with Gretchen...we could do a lot more trips like this, I'm thinking.  

Thanks for reading along.   Perhaps someday we'll come to your city.

Persevere.  

.

Race Report: Sandhills Marathon, 2018

The Numbers:  26.2 miles; 4:35:44 (10:32/mile pace); Run/Walk 3min/1min; placed 24th of 29 total finishers (results).


Quick Summary:   Does it seem odd to drive 1,865 miles in four days by yourself through lonely spaces in order to run 26.2 miles virtually alone?   And even more odd to find it all exhilarating?   I understand...and that's what happened on June 2, 2018 when I ran The Sandhills Marathon.    Lots of photos and videos here and few words, which is much like the Sandhills themselves.   Come along with me.


The Gory Details:

Both long-term readers of this blog know I grew up on a cattle farm in Auburn, Nebraska.   Just being a native Cornhusker is very unusual...most people have never met anyone from Nebraska.   Even though I have lived in Indiana for over 40 years, I still have a deep, visceral connection to my home state.   I'm sure it's closely linked to the land and the fact my ancestors homesteaded in 1867 on our home farm.

Since I started running marathons again in 2006, I've always wondered about doing one in Nebraska.  About six years ago, I learned of the Sandhills Marathon and it immediately hit a responsive chord.  For a number of reasons, schedules didn't work until this year and I signed up on New Year's Day when registration opened, not wanting to miss it.

But what exactly are The Sandhills??   Here's an accurate description (source):

The Nebraska Sandhills, despite their immeasurable natural and economic importance, their rare beauty, and their place in the conservation of migratory waterfowl and other birds, remain surprisingly unknown territory, even to the rest of Nebraska. The Nebraska Sandhills are the largest area of sand dunes in the western hemisphere. Over 50,000 square kilometers, or close to 20,000 square miles in extent (not counting some outliers), the Sandhills are fragile grasslands that are wild, sparsely settled, desolate, and beautiful in unexpected ways. The Sandhills are cattle country, not farm country. Sand-trap back roads and extremes of weather can be unforgiving even to knowing inhabitants.

Yep.   The Sandhills are every bit this and that's what I wanted to see again.   I had been there once when I was in high school to play a baseball tournament but the summer of 1970 is a long, long time ago.   I really wanted to go back.

The Sandhills are remote, to say the least.  It's an 850 mile one-way drive from my home in West Lafayette, Indiana to Valentine, Nebraska, the only town of any size in the Sandhills.   I took two days off from work and left early on Thursday morning for the Saturday race.

As it turned out, our three sons, their wives and kids were also meeting up on that same Thursday evening for a weekend together in Des Moines.   Pure coincidence, but I spent the night there and went out to dinner with my entire family.   I really missed having Gretchen with us, but here's our entire family, with four and a half grandkids.



It was wonderful to see the cousins interacting.




I left Des Moines at 7am Friday and kept driving west.   Once I got to the Missouri River, it was 250 miles of two lane roads to Valentine.   And I loved the drive...great roads, unencumbered, a close-up look at every farm along the way.   I could write an entire blog post just on the drive, but I won't.   I got to Valentine around 3pm, checked into my motel and was first through the packet pick up at an appropriate-to-the-Sandhills location to get the bib and t shirt.



With some time, I drove the 40 miles south of Valentine to scout out the finish line and parking of the marathon in the daylight.   That helped me orient to the area and drink in, even more, the beauty of the Sandhills.   On the drive back to Valentine, I saw an awesome thunderstorm build and rain to the east of town.  It was spectacular.

The race hosted a pasta feed at a local microbrewery where I enjoyed talking with Dan, a marathoner from Boston (do they run there??) and Steve from Omaha.  Great fun.   I then walked around Valentine a while...with 2,800 residents, it's even smaller than my hometown and it felt like I was home, in many respects.  I came upon an ice cream shop and got a cone and then had a nice surprise, watching a Car Show parade scheduled for that Friday evening.

I slept somewhat normally for the night before a marathon, meaning "not too great" and up and down quite a bit.   I had dreams of police shouting commands over their squad car speakers and thought nothing of it.   I was up at 3:30am, knowing I had to be at the finish line by 5:00am.   As I walked out of the hotel at 4:00am, I realized my dreams were not bogus...a restaurant kitty corner from my hotel was going up in flames, with a hook and ladder truck pouring water onto the roof.   Yikes!   I looped out the back exit of the hotel and headed south, concerned, knowing what a problem a big fire can be in a small town.

Through the dark, I could see a handful of cars along the lonely US83 in the pre-dawn hours; I was pretty sure we were all getting set to run.   Indeed, all of us turned right onto Brownlee Road and parked.   It was a small group and, as planned, the entire marathon field (only 29 finished the race and I don't think anyone dropped out) boarded a small school bus precisely at 5:00am for the 26 mile ride to the start line for the 6:00am point to point race start.  

I was fortunate to sit behind Lisa from Lincoln, who had run the race five times before.   As we rumbled through the darkness, she gave several of us a tour of the course, which proved of exceptional value during the race.   What to expect, what to look for...it was wonderful.   She offered to take a photo of me with the not-quite-up sun in the east.




While not intentional, it was ironic I wore my shirt from the 2016 Chicago Marathon, the quintessential "big city marathon", with over 40,000 finishers running through the concrete jungle.   The Sandhills Marathon is the complete opposite of Chicago...all the starters fit on a small (not even full size) school bus...try THAT in Grant Park!!  I took a short jog to loosen the legs before we started and took a photo of the starting grid from 100m or so away.   Yep, that's all of us, plus the school bus.   Later, I discovered the start line was technically a few miles into the Mountain Time Zone, so far west we were.  

How do you start a marathon in the Sandhills??   With a shotgun, of course!!  A perfect touch.   

Exactly at 6:00am, we got started, with the sun not yet quite up.   I can't tell you what a thrill it was for me to finally get this race going.   It was all I had hoped for and, as it turned out, the event only continued to exceed all my expectations. 

The day's weather was a big help...the overnight thunderstorms had cleared out the heat and humidity of the prior day and we enjoyed a breeze from the northwest giving us a tailwind all day on our generally southeastern trek on Brownlee Road. (It also turned out the northwest wind may have saved an apartment building in the fire referenced above...a far more important result of this meteorological factor).  The temperature was about 54F at the start...I wore toe-less tube socks as arm warmers through mile 9 or so.   The temps never got over the mid 60s...it was a perfect day to run.   Here I am early on:  

Massive thanks to the organizers and Gary Doughtery for professional photos, free, from the day...check out all of them here.

I fell in early with three other folks and we did the usual "how far did you drive to get here?" chat which was normal at Sandhills.   When Andy discovered I was from Indiana, he lit up...when he found out I was a Purdue engineer, he sneered through his smile.   He grew up in Indiana and, more importantly, attended our arch-rival Indiana University.   Go figure...here we are in the middle of nowhere and I still end up next to an IU grad who will hassle me about going to Purdue.   We joked all day as we flip-flopped positions.

The scenery was breathtaking.   I decided early that taking some photos and videos along the way would trump any speed concerns.  As we made the first climb of the day, I shot this video of the day's main spectators:

It was so empty and so magnificent.   Unlike the crowded streets of the Chicago Marathon, where people lined up to watch us, we were the interlopers here and the "locals" looked on with, at best, mild amusement.  

The visual highlight of the entire marathon route occurred between mile 9 and 11.   Lisa pointed this out to us emphatically on the trip out and I was not disappointed.   This long climb over a sand dune was over a mile long and it was another mile down the other side on our narrow strip of asphalt only one pickup wide.   The scene got better and better as we made the steep climb.
















I shot two videos from the top, the first looking back, to the west and the second looking forward.   I'm sorry for the wind noise but it captures a very real part of the setting.

Looking to the east...

Down the hill we went.

We then settled into a flatter part of the course from mile 12 to mile 22, roughly following the South Loup River.  Here are some of the few trees along the entire trip with me plodding along in my yellow shirt.
















Yet, the scenery was no less striking and amazing to me...it was so big, so huge, so empty of people yet so full of life.

I knew the race was special when I reached the half-marathon marker in 2 hours, 15 minutes, even and my emotions sunk.   I was sad.  This fabulous race was already half-over.   I wanted it to last.

Here's a video from the mid point of the race.

The perceptive, experienced runner who has endured reading to this point is likely wondering how basic race functions happen with a small field of runners spread out over a long, remote course.

Well, RD Andy Pollack was brilliant on many of these things.   For example, here's how they handled portable toilets.

Yep, you see correctly...this is one of two pickups, each pulling a low trailer with two portables.   One truck hung out with the leaders, the other with us slow folks.   As the pack moved ahead, so did they.   And, if someone needed to "go", they just signaled the driver to "stop" and it all worked.   When the race ended around noon, both trucks were at the finish line and nothing remained behind. 

Water stops were also simple...at every third mile marker was a cooler full of ice and 8 oz bottles of water and Gatorade.   I was glad I brought my water belt, as I could easily refill my bottles and leave the empty in the cooler, so as not to litter the beautiful hills. 

In addition, two guys on bicycles circulated all day amongst us, back and forth, back and forth.  

This is Greg and it was fun to chat with him multiple times during the 4+ hours on the course.  The two guys kept a watchful eye on all the runners and were equipped to get help had any of us needed it.  From asking the port-a-john truck to stop to getting a bail-out ride, they were the eyes of the race on the ground.  Overall, the race had brilliant organization.   

What do you think about while running in such an empty place?   I could only think about people.  Who are these hardy souls making a go in such a spot??  

At the finish line on US83, this sign is the "index" of the ranches spread out over the miles and miles along the marathon route.   Look closely at the distances here...miles along the road and, several, many more miles OFF the road.  And, mind you, this sign itself is 40 miles from Valentine, Nebraska and 20 miles from the village of Thedford, Nebraska.   You can't zip down to the corner grocery to get a half-gallon of milk when you live in the Sandhills.      

Along the road, signs and mailboxes marked the lane to each ranch.   Yet, in many cases, I could see no sign of a home...only a lane disappearing over another hill.   

It's a tough breed of folks who can survive and thrive in this setting.   A love of cattle, an ability to manage the vagaries of weather and markets, a self-sufficiency to live remotely...all of this and more is vital. 

All of this reminded me of my ancestors who landed in southeast Nebraska, perhaps around the same time some of these families landed in the Sandhills.  It made me grateful, mindful we stand on the shoulders of those who came before us.   

All these cattle?  All the windmills?   The miles and miles of barbed wire fence?  The cattle sorting pens?   The huge pastures?   It brought back rich, deep memories of my Dad and Mom, his siblings, my grandparents, my great-grandparents.   I particularly missed my Dad during this entire trip...I can't fathom how wonderful it would have been to drive through these hills with him, talking about cattle and life.   

And it gave a new, visual sense to me of the words of the ancient Psalm regarding the provision of the "cattle on a thousand hills."    

Such was the depth of the reflection of this introverted runner on a wonderful run alone.   Around mile 24, I saw a young rancher parked in his pickup along the side of the road.   I paused to thank him for letting us invade his space for a day.   Dale smiled and said "Shoot, it's pretty lonely out here, we're glad to have some visitors!"  I shook his hand and, in some sort of way, tried to thank him on behalf of all the ranchers I ran by. 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, er, race...Oh, yeah, this was a race, right?   Like actually running 26.2 miles?   Not an outdoor book club??   Indeed.   

I ran this marathon as I've run many before.   I kept a 3/1 run walk ratio, running three minutes and walking one minute.   The ratio worked well and I actually tried to run at about a 9:15/mile pace during each three minutes of running.   And it worked great.   Just past mile 19, we made the one turn on the entire course, as we did a one mile out and back to the south through the hamlet of Brownlee in order to get the total mileage right.   Someone there has a good sense of humor.  

I just kept doing the 3/1 and I never hit The Wall, never felt badly, had no blisters or other pain and enjoyed chatting with marathoners and half-marathoners whom I caught up with in the final 9 miles or so.   Perfect marathon days don't happen often, folks.  I was grateful for the weather, the setting and everything about the event.     

There was a long, persistent hill from mile 22 to 24.   I smiled, thinking of another marathon I'll be running next April with a similar uphill grind in the final few miles.    I leaned into the slope to practice and tried to keep a constant effort.   And continued to drink in the unrelenting beauty of the day, knowing it was soon to end.  

We came to the final mile, a long straight, flat section and it was a thrill to wrap up a marathon in my home state that went as well as I could have ever imagined.  

My official finish time was 4:35:44.   I had secretly hoped to be under 4:40; I was thrilled to beat that soundly.   It also meant the second half only took 6 minutes longer than the first half, very encouraging, especially given the time I took to shoot video, take photos and talk to bikers and Dale, the rancher.   I wouldn't change a thing.  

And what else would you give race finishers at such a locale?   A generic race medal???  No way...a silver stirrup, properly engraved.   This is a keeper.   

Back at the lot where we had left our cars way before dark, the vibe was fun as marathoners and half marathoners all basked in the beautiful day.   I reconnected with my newly-found Indiana buddy, Andy...it turned out we had actually parked right next to each other.  

We had a fun chat over the amazing coincidence.   And, man, I'd like to get a "Run Nebraska" shirt like his.   

So, there you have it.   This was my 81st completed marathon/ultra.   And the Sandhills Marathon is clearly in the top five for me.   To be clear, the perfect running weather and good rains this spring produced a pleasant setting in lush hills; thus I could ponder my roots rather than manage dehydration.  It's not a marathon for everyone...it takes a lot of work to even get to the starting line and the successful runner has to have a bit of the self-sufficiency about him/her which reflects the same grit of Sandhills residents.   Extroverted runners would be horribly frustrated, as the conversation skills of the steers watching us were lacking.  There were zero fans.  But for me and my temperament, the trip, the run, the setting, the event was about as perfect as it could be.  

Thanks for reading.   And persevere, with or without an audience.  

.