I came off the trail, made the final turn into the fairgrounds, and there was the finish line. After nearly nine hours of “run south, turn around, run north” I was about to find out if I would set a new personal record (PR) for the 50-mile distance.

Did I? Result momentarily. But can you guess what I told coach Ryan what my main takeaway was from the Prairie Spirit Trail Races?

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I need to pee faster.

Not sure I’m following that…

The Prairie Spirit Rail-Trail runs over 50 miles across Kansas, with its terminals at Ottawa and Iola, passing through the towns of Princeton, Richmond, Garnett, and others along the way. The venue is perfectly suited for running up to 100 miles, and that’s exactly what the eponymous race does, starting and finishing at the appropriately named Celebration Hall in the Ottawa fairgrounds.

With one 2026 ultra successfully in the books (the Nature Park 50K in February) I’d been looking for another in the late March window, and this one fit the bill. The “pancake flat” (that’s trail runner jargon) course offers runners an excellent first 50-miler try, as well as an opportunity to set a personal best for that distance. And I was particularly motivated for the latter.

How come? That goes back to the Oakwood 24 in 2024, when I ran a 50-miler under 9 hours for the first time. At least I thought so. The course is a loop of just over two miles, and after 24 loops the race director said I was done. Come to find out the timing company decided 25 loops were needed, and I’d come up a lap short – a DNF!

After an email to the RD they gave me a finish, with an extrapolated time of 9 hours, 15 minutes. Okay, fine, still a PR, but not the one I thought I’d done, and I still think I actually completed the full 50. The Prairie Spirit offered an opportunity to get that undisputed sub-9, and to really count it in my book as a PR I set a goal to beat 8 hours 50 minutes.

And so, off to Kansas I drove, with an overnight in Hannibal, MO (Why did I stop there? See the P.S. at the end) and crossed the starting line at 7 a.m. March 28 with about 50 others doing that distance.

Rarin’ to go! Actually was. A perfect morning to start an ultra.

Early on I got talking with Julian, who at age 20 was attempting his first ultra. Not only that, he jumped straight from the half marathon (13.1 miles) to attempting 50! Ah, the blissful ignorance and confidence of youth. We were within sight of each other until I left the Richmond aid station at mile 18 earlier than he did, and except for an outgoing/incoming pass near Garnett, I didn’t see him again until after the finish.

The trail was actually quite busy for a while, with runners going both directions. The 50 mile and 100 mile runners started heading south, while the marathon and half marathon distances started from another location and ran north to their turnarounds. This was welcome because the trail itself can get, well, tedious. But after I turned around in the town of Garnett, I saw very few other runners the rest of the way. The shorter distances were complete, most of the 100-milers were past Garrett, and the 50-milers had spread out. It’s typical for me to run by myself the second half of an ultra, which is fine, but can get a bit lonely.

Turnaround! I’m actually happy, but squinting into the sun doesn’t bring out my best features.

The leg back was a grind. It had warmed up considerably, the sun was beating down (I wound up with a mild sunburn) and fatigue had taken the spring out of my step. But I kept on, trying to keep my pace up. When I reached the final aid station I did a time check and saw I was right on the border of my time goal. To make it for sure I needed to pick it up. So with six miles to go, I kicked in the extra gear I’d been saving for the final three or so. And to my surprise and gratitude, it held up. Things looked good as my watch indicated I had just two miles to go.

Except I didn’t.

My watch was off, and that was confirmed when it said I had one mile to go. I knew where that point was from my warmup run the day before, and I was at least a half mile from it, which meant more minutes lost. Ouch, that hurt. Well, nothing for it. I got to the actual one-mile mark and tried to find one more gear for that finishing kick. Nope, not there. I was on fumes. I’d just have to throw whatever I had left at it.

And so I charged best I could down the path toward that final turn. And finally, there was the finish line with the big red clock. In big red numbers the hour read “9” (actually 8 for my race). Minutes: 49. Seconds: 56…57…58…59… and I wasn’t there yet. I crossed the finish line in 8:50:03 according to that clock, and my watch confirmed it.

Still a PR, but to miss my goal by just a few seconds was so frustrating.

So where could I have made them up? Really, anywhere. A few seconds less grabbing food at an aid station. A bit less conversation with the very nice race director and digging out a gel for another runner at mile 44. Just a tad faster in those final six miles. But I had also peed twice during the race, and decided my main lesson learned was to do that faster.

I collapsed into a chair, got some Coke and food, and waited for Julian to finish. And at 9 hours and 33 minutes, he did. A terrific time for a first 50-miler. What an achievement! And it sounds like he’s caught the ultra fever like I did after my first. I told him, though, that this race spoiled him. When he starts doing the trails with lots of hills, rocks, and roots, etc. he’ll wonder why the heck it takes him so much longer!

Julian and me at the finish. He looks pretty good for just having run 50 miles, doesn’t he?

And a coda. Back in my hotel room it occurred to me that I had actually crossed the start line a few seconds after the starting gun. So what was my finish time per the timing chip? The race was still going on, but Outlaw Trails was posting results as they happened, so my time was listed. 8:49:55! I’d made my goal after all. And in the top 10, too.

I still told my coach I needed to pee faster.

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P.S. So why did I stop in Hannibal, MO on the way to Kansas? Because it was in be-Twain, of course.