Running from Chicago to Milwaukee for ALS - Never Again Every YEar

2013 - World's Longest Turkey Trot #1

In 2013 my friend Alfredo Pedro Perro wanted to run one last 100 mile race for the year.  I came up with a much worse idea.  "Let's just get a backpack and credit card and run from Chicago to Milwaukee...it's about 100 miles."  In doing so I created a monster.  You can read about the first Turkey Trot here: http://urbanultra.blogspot.com/2013/11/worlds-longest-turkey-trot.html.

The following year Alfredo was diagnosed with ALS.  

I found a few friends dumb enough to join me once again.  http://urbanultra.blogspot.com/2014/12/worlds-longest-turkey-trot-ii-aka.html This time we flipped the course and ran from Milwaukee to Chicago instead.

In 2015 Alfredo lost his battle with ALS.  So we did it again.  From Chicago to Milwaukee.  Each year I swore I would never do it again.  It's so cold and miserable.  It's so much concrete.  There are long stretches of nothing in the middle of the night.  Bad neighborhoods.  A lack of reliable plumbing.  Bonks.  I mean, if I was going to be 100% honest with you I would say the first two hours are awesome.  After that.  Well, you know.

So of course this year I returned.  Again.  For the fourth "last time" and joined an even larger group of people with questionable decision-making skills and we ran from Milwaukee to Chicago.  Although this time, there were a few differences.

First.  We had a much larger group (12 people) of really crazy folks.  

Rocketts at Wisconsin/Illinois Border

Second, we had about 20 angels who spent the day bringing us almost every possible type of food or drink you can imagine.

Example of random aid station someone unaffiliated with the race set up in their office along the route.

Aid station, hot home made soup, and hugs from MILF's available.

But most importantly, we decided that if we were going to continue to do something this stupid, we should do it for a cause, so we re-named the event the Alfredo Pedro Perro World's Longest Turkey Trot for ALS.  We set and achieved our goal of raising $5,000 for the Les Turner ALS Foundation (which treated Alfredo for his disease free of charge).   If you want to add to the donation please do so here:

 https://secure2.convio.net/ltals/site/Donation2;jsessionid=00000000.app294a?idb=0&DONATION_LEVEL_ID_SELECTED=1&df_id=1982&mfc_pref=T&1982.donation=form1&NONCE_TOKEN=FD6F1E0C5A120E20A0531A1AD1B1FA45

You can also read more about what it was like and what happened on Andrew's Blog here:

 http://clutchrunner.blogspot.com/2016/11/worlds-longest-turkey-trot-wltt.html

The great thing about this event isn't that we actually made it almost 100 miles:

 https://www.strava.com/activities/787407688

or that people received a buckle, though both those things are cool.

Commemorative Buckle

The amazing thing is how it brought the community together.  People that loved and cared about Alfredo wanted to run, to cheer, to pace, to support.  They set up aid stations over the 100 mile course randomly.  They showed up on the course and ran.  They hugged us and offered whatever they could give to keep us moving and get us to our destination.  People also sent us inspiring messages on social media.  We ran together.  We waited for each other.  We shivered in cars and slept in gas stations to re-group.  No one wanted to win.  No one worried about losing.  The only time concern was to try to finish before the sun set.  In all, it took us roughly 32 hours.  During that time we ran and sang and goofed around.  We made new friendships. We took over a Starbucks

We ate several sit down meals.  We laughed and cried.  And in the end, we had a journey we will never forget. 

And one that I will never do again.  Until next year.  Again.  

I Cry When I Run

These days I cry almost every time I run.  It usually happens near the end.  It's really hard to explain.  I think of my friend Alfredo and I cry.  I just hope people assume it is tears of joy or the endorphins spilling over.  But really, it's that I miss running with my friend and I'm afraid I'll never get to run with him again.

Shortly after being introduced to ultra running I learned of a guy named Afredo Perdo Perro, or Alfredo Pedro, or Alfredo Perro.  No one really knows for certain and no one cares.  He was a CARA (Chicago Area Runners Association) runner who was a recovering alcoholic and running for PAWS (a dog charity).  Between my love of running, dogs and the fact that I was a recovering alcoholic I knew Alfredo was someone I should be friends with.  I sent him a friend request and an instant message.  He confirmed that we should be friends and meet up soon.

Several weeks later some friends were running across Illinois (west to east) and my wife and I went looking for them to offer assistance.  That night we found Alfredo and my friend Kathleen Rytman running along a country road.  I jumped in to help and spent the next twelve hours getting to know the person that would become my best friend.

 Since then Alfredo and I have done just about anything hard we could think of.  We went on to run our first 100 mile race together, the Potawatomi Trail 100:

We then ran the Superior Sawtooth 100 together:

Ran a goofy food challenge through the streets of Chicago:

We did the first World's Longest Turkey Trot from Chicago to Milwaukee:

And so on.  I've spent many many hours with Alfredo suffering silently on the roads and trails of America.  We didn't talk much.  We silently suffered together.

One day two winters ago we ran 30 miles along the Chicago lakefront in subzero temps for no reason at all.  As the wind blew us nearly off the trail I turned to look at him and said "You know...when I run with you I feel like there is nothing I cannot achieve."  He said he shared that exact feeling.

Last spring and fall Alfredo started falling.  He was always a little clumsy, but he started falling hard and hitting his head.  He had trouble descending.  His neck bothered him.  No one could explain why.  Running got harder and harder, and eventually he couldn't run anymore.  In December he became hospitalized.

In late December he was diagnosed with ALS.

Our last run together was, ironically, the Leadville International Beer Mile.  Now we spend more time together watching movies and eating food.  We also talk more.

But I have to admit, it's hard.  It makes running hard and at times makes loving running hard.  If you see me crying and running just smile like you assume I'm super pumped to be running or finishing. Or I'm just my normal emotional self.

Alfredo has limited finances and needs a LOT of help.  If you have even $5 to spare, consider making a small donation to his giveitforward fundraiser:

https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/whc7/alfredo-pedro-s-als-fundraiser/updates/116835

And please, don't ever take running for granted.  Never take a finish line for granted.  Your entire life can change in one second.  Be grateful!

World's Longest Turkey Trot II - a/k/a the "Bonkfest"

It was 3 a.m. and after 3 hours of no food or water, running into a headwind at about 25 degrees.  Katerina Claiborne, Tony Cesario and I found ourselves eating on the floor of the first gas station we passed in what seemed like an eternity.  Katerina was shoveling munchos into her mouth like her life depended on it. I reasoned with them: "Listen, I'll support you guys in whatever you decide, but I've done this before, I'm bonked and miserable and we were re-routed so we can't really do what we set out to do.  A bed sounds real good.  It's getting colder, we're moving slower, we're all dehydrated and this isn't any fun.  We have about 15 hours to go.  Then again, it'd be nice to finish.  You decide."  I tried to lay out our options as diplomatically as I could.  I would have bet you every dollar to my name that we were done for the night.  I was done.

The second annual World's Longest Turkey Trot took a reverse route this year - Milwaukee to Chicago.  The distance was approximately 95 miles.  Three basically insane people decided to take part this year (up a full person from last year).  The event was self-supported.  (Last year we had a dedicated crew person for the last 60 miles - this year we weren't so lucky).  We ran mostly on roads, jumping from inattentive cars to the shoulder of country roads.  We almost got hit by a car on a bridge (this was before the whole "please run me over" sentiment kicked in so it left us breathless).   At one point the police instructed us to get into the car and bypass a section of the route due to two (2) shootings taking place along the route while we were running.   

We did have some pacers in the night (Susan and Brian Smock) who entertained us with their stories and shenanigans...

but for the most part, it was a cold suffer-fest on rock hard concrete.  Leading up to the bottom at the gas station I would say we had fun about 20% of the time, and suffered for 30% of the time. Oh, the other 50% of the time (13 hours total over the event) was spent in restaurants eating, with wet clothes hanging everywhere and electronics charging wherever we could find space.

No.  We're finishing.  Katerina said.  It broke my heart.  I was so ready for bed.  But she had a point.  You see, we aren't particularly fast (most of the time) but we have a reputation for doing really hard things, and often times finishing them.  The Turkey Trot isn't about the running.  No one really cares how long it takes.  There's no medal or buckle at the end.  The only reward you get (other than the bizarre look on people's faces when you explain what you are doing) takes place when you look back and say "Did that really happen?"  

Once we had no choice but to finish we made the best of it.  We even had a few more pacers along the way (Jen DeSalvo and Julie Bane).

In all, we finished in 34 hours.  We ran roughly 85 miles.  We ate three breakfasts, a pizza, a fancy burger, some amazing soup and almost 30 peanut butter cups.  We mostly carried all of our own gear.

My Strava data, with many, many fails, can be found here:

http://www.strava.com/activities/224549571

Now that I've done this trot in both directions I'm prepared to crew it next year.  So watch my FB/Twitter if you are interested.  Trust me, it is MUCH easier when crewed.

Things I learned: concrete sucks.  Hydration is trickier in the cold.  Aid stations and crews are worth their weight in gold.  I have the best friends in the world.

There is something uniquely difficult about goals without rewards.  They really make you dig deep.  Without the possibility of an award, a PR or a crowd at the finish you find yourself with only one reason to continue.  Because you said it out loud.