08/13/2025
I recently told someone "if it looks like the race was put together in a basement, that's because it was and is". The Buckeye has never been about the bells and whistles, or dollars and cents. I guess it *is* about the buttons and weird charms, and taking pictures at Quinn's...but that's something else entirely.
The Buckeye is full of stories.
In 2022, when road construction forced the course onto County Line road and Wells Hollow, 4 people missed the re-route and were faced with the decision to either go back and correct the mistake, or be disqualified from the run. All 4 were in the top 5 in the 200 mile challenge at the point in which they were faced with that decision. Two went back, and two walked away. The two who chose to go back-- Aneta Zeppetella and Jeffrey Dimo-- went on to break the course record that year by over 10 hours, despite losing several hours to the error. The two who did not wish to go back-- Tim Crow and Timmy Adkins-- had their races end on the way out of Lisbon. I always wonder what might've happened had they not quit. And then this past week, Crow and Adkins returned, ran the correct route, and handled some unfinished business, finishing 1st and 2nd overall in the 200. It was the kind of outcome that makes me pause and shake my head. Sometimes the universe opens a curtain and shows us who we are, who we were, and how we got there.
Kyle and Addison, wearing bibs I and II, and carrying the Mickey and Minnie charms, quit together North of Glasgow after finishing 1st and 2nd last year.
A 20 year-old who had never raced an official ultra completed the 100 after climbing out of Wells Hollow and battling 90 degree heat, in less than 23 hours.
Last year, Rebecca Roehm finished during a geomagnetic storm, northern lights visible in her finish photo.
Many of us remember Brian Hooker's story.
I don't know yours-- at least not all of it. I can't. I'm not meant to. But, we find out a lot about ourselves when faced with choices in the throes of anguish; and those choices shape our reality and identity. The open road is full of opportunity for self-reflection.
I told Tim Hardy the Buckeye is becoming a Rolling Stones farewell tour. Every time I think, "this is it; this is the end", and it isn't. We're still here. You're still here. I'm still here. And, apparently the Buckeye is still here-- on life support, I suppose, in some sense of the word.
So...yes, there will be a 2026 Buckeye 200. More Quinn's and buttons and Flying J showers and sleeping in the Bristolville gazebo.
I love this run. I've loved it since I had my sister drop me off in Wellsville, leaving me to run on my own to Walnut Beach Park; and I realized when I got there that the best part of this adventure was doing it without all those bells and whistles. Maybe you loved it, too. Maybe you hated it. Maybe you're thinking about joining us next year, now that there *is* going to be a next year.
In the meanwhile, if you see Derek Murphy, thank him for taking the time from his own life to monitor the southern half of the course from Saturday until Monday. Thank Henry Lupton for handling the technical side of things when I could only get a text message out but couldn't get enough cell service to update the tracking sheet. Thank those along the route who set up aid tables or offered you water and encouragement. Thank Kim Atkins of the Atkins Educational Farm for their donation to the race. Most of all, thanks go to the runners and walkers who share the memories on the road that make the soul of what this thing is come to life. The Buckeye is a labor of love, and it takes a lot of love to keep it alive, year after year.
So, I guess I'll be heading back to the basement to draw our next buckle design and magnets, and to pick that next farewell tour date.
Stay tuned, I guess. We're not done yet. : )
Cheers,
Feral
