Day 112 Farmersville to Springfield 27 miles

6/5/2011

The previous day’s sun drained me of all my energy. It was ninety degrees today, two degrees cooler than yesterday. It didn’t feel like it. Again ran through miles and miles of cornfields. Illinois is the state of Lincoln. I wonder if the landscape has changed all that much since his day. I mean the fields. Clearly the cities are much more developed and there is urban sprawl. But, for the most part, as I run past the old country homes, I could picture a young Abe Lincoln running around in the fields. I imagine a happy childhood of the man who would emancipate the slaves.

Punching out the first nine miles to Divernon was cake. But, my days go through many stages. Upon arrival of this little town, I discovered the gas stations where I planned to refill my refreshments were closed. I didn’t think much of it because I had my mini cooler stocked with frozen water and Gatorade. I figured it would last me until Springfield. After all, I only had seventeen more miles to conquer. I lounged under a tree at the abandoned service station and polished off the gatorade which wasn’t frozen and started in on one of the frozen bottles. Since the frozen bottle didn’t want to cooperate, I decided it was time to get back on the road.

I ran less than a mile and I was thirsty again. The liquid had barely thawed and I was only able to squeeze a couple drops from the bottle. This would go on for the next twelve miles. I tried to take breaks under trees as often as possible but then the bugs wouldn’t leave me alone. I had to keep moving forward. I reached the outskirts of Springfield around four and decided to have a bite. I gulped down three fruit punches before the food arrived. The waitress could tell I was thirsty. The cool air was nice and my body was settling down. Business began to pick up at the place and I figured I should free up the table.

Back on the road my body initially refused to cooperate. It was still feeling heavy from the liquid and the food. The carbs I ate started to go to work though and before I knew it my legs were feeling fresh again. I stopped running for a minute to put on my roadrunner hat. OH NO!!! It was gone. I flew into a panic. If you have ever seen the movie Castaway, I felt like Tom Hanks when he lost Wilson. Maybe I’m silly for placing such sentimental value on a piece of cloth. But, if you travel a couple thousand miles on foot, and wear something everyday, I’ll bet you’d be sad to lose it. Maybe some people would be ready to chuck it in the trash.

For me leaving the roadrunner behind was not an option. I first backtracked to the restaurant. Nothing. Oh I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I don’t know if it was all the punch but I suspect I was pretty distraught over the cap. Backtracking another mile and a half I found my roadrunner hat in tact and all alone on the side of the street. After that a wind blew and kicked up a huge dose of pollen into my face but, it didn’t dampen my spirits. All was good and I made my way to the hotel. Check in would be delayed for a bit though. Two travellers Erna and Sylvia had come to the United States from the Netherlands and they were fascinated by my journey. We spoke for quite some time and I gave them a couple books for their grandchildren. Funny how I planned to hit the sack early on this particular evening. Oh well, perhaps I’ll take tomorrow off.

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