Right away we passed under King Street, then Main Street, then followed the spur line to the Aberdeen marshalling yards. At the end of the yards, the tracks are in disuse and there is a bit better footing. We then jogged stealthily past the neatly kept gardens of smaller, older residential homes, some of whose owners have located their vegetable gardens along the now unused right-of-way. Along this stretch, at one point, the tracks finally cease.

After about half an hour or so, we passed over mile 0 of the Hamilton-Brantford Rail Trail and crossed over the Ancaster Road on our way out of town.

The initial stretch of the official trail passes by several small plazas, and then more back yards, the size and "quality" of which increased the further west we went, until we were clearly in the Sulphur Springs Conservation Area.

The weather was actually ideal for such an undertaking, cool enough for me to wear a light Burlington Runners windbreaker at this stage.

At this early point in the day, we were running somewhere between four and five miles an hour.

Our first aid station was scheduled for Sulphur Springs Road, just west of the Conservation area, about ten kilometers into the run, and Dorothy and the red Windstar were there waiting for us. It’s important to be well hydrated throughout the ordeal, and to achieve this one must start drinking early, thirsty or no, as it’s pretty hard to catch up when your blood has thickened and your stomach has shut down.

From Sulphur Springs Road, the vegetation along the trail changes from urban woodland to farmland and field, so as the day got warmer, we were also more exposed to the sun. This is a very important factor, as 25C feels like 30-35C when you’re standing directly in the sun.

Our next aid station was at the school in Jerseyville, about 20 kilometers from the start. Jerseyville is a small hamlet centred on a crossroad with modest homes and a few farms. The trail crosses the north-south road, then the east-west road as it angles through the northwest quadrant of the village. Prior to our arrival here, Gord had thrown up several times on the trail, and was not feeling well. We took a few extra minutes here to see if his stomach would calm down, but it appeared more that he had a bit of stomach flu, so he dropped out at this point and became part of the aid team for Taylor and myself.

From here, the trail runs straight towards Brantford through broad fields of soy and corn. We also had an aid stop at Jerseyville Road, as it curves south several miles west of Jerseyville. After that the trail also curves south, passing under the new highway 403, then over Fairchild Creek, under the old 403 feeder, and finally under highway 53, in a long old tunnel with an echo. This is a long section, and at this stage, one is about halfway to the first aid stop in Brantford. The trail then passes along the upper part of the 250 or so foot high embankment over the Grand River. Unlike the previous sections, this one has a number of large dips, produced by the landslide I think about fifty years ago, which ended the TH&B service to Brantford.

The first aid stop in Brantford was by a small pond and dam, part of the Brantford water management system.

After this stop, the trail runs along a road, then past the Kanata native heritage centre, then Her Majesty’s Chapel of the Mohawks, which dates from the late 18^th century and is one of the oldest Christian houses of worship in Ontario. During the first American civil war, usually known as the American Revolution, about half of the Iroquois living in New York State sided with the British. Following the conflict, and hence deprived of their lands, they were granted large tracts of land all along the Grand River by King George III. At the time, the land was essentially vacant, as the previous occupants had been largely destroyed or driven out during wars relating to the fur trade.

At this stage, for the next ten-twelve kilometers, the trail bisects the top of the dike that protects the floodplain between the city and the river. This section is always very hot and steamy. We were still running most of the sections and feeling pretty good, as there was a gentle cooling breeze. The next aid station, nonetheless, seemed far away, and we were glad to reach it.

From there, the trail runs along the sidewalk on River Road, passing under the main bridge in Brantford, then a short way, to the next aid stop, a very short section, which is good, because the next one is one of the toughest, still running along the dike, but now worn down by the incessant exposure to the sun. In this section, there are large swamps and fens to the south of us along the river, and great wafts of stifling, humid air passed over us in drafts.

Nonetheless, we persevered to the next aid station at the upper dam and weir, the lynchpin of the water control system.

Following this is a relatively short, but tough section, which slowly climbs the embankment north of Brantford, passing by a large golf course. At the top of this gentle hill, the van and crew were waiting. We were still feeling strong, so I pushed on quickly, sensing that Taylor would stay longer at the van if he had the choice, but would follow quickly at his Dad’s urging.

Next we ran along a section of road which had just been asphalted, so you can imagine how hot our feet felt. The rail line originally went straight across an aggregate quarry, but that is now a gravel pit, so we followed this road for a mile, then turned right for half a mile, then picked up the trail again, across another quarry. This was not a particularly attractive part of the day.

The quarry section led to a footbridge which crosses over Highway 403, followed by a kilometer through a wood to Powerline Road, and there another aid stop.

Then the trail approaches the lovely little town of Paris, with several nice vistas of the River. Someone’s house is now sitting on the rail line, so the trail passes down a street without curbs, down a hill, then across Highway 24, which leads across the River to the old part of town. The part we passed through briefly is the industrial section, including Hamilton Technical Ceramics, which used to be in Hamilton, and where a good client of mine is the Sales Manager.

We had an aid stop at the Highway, then the trail sweeps south along the River, eventually heading north towards Cambridge. Our next aid stop was the shortest, as the section above is inaccessible for 10 kilometers, so we arrive their quickly and take in extra fluids for the two hour section. I am used to this, and do not think of the aid station, knowing that it will be there when we get there, but Taylor is a bit more disturbed. I remind him that we still have 20 kilometers to go to the 50 mile turnaround, and we will have to do all of it, no matter how soon the aid stations come.

It is now later in the afternoon, and this section which runs right along the Grand is quite shady, so the scourge of the heat had passed us by. It is a bit of a grind, this section, as the trail is more gravel than screening, so it made the feet hurt all the more. Eventually, we arrived at Glen Morris, where there used to be both a bridge and a train station, but now is just a canoe rental firm. The aid station was there, and so was Paul Westerhof, who took over for my wife Dorothy who had seen us through to this point. The latter continued up to the top, in order to take the Harthun’s home, while I was to continue on the trail back to Hamilton. At least that was the plan.

However, as in the previous two attempts, the last five kilometers, for some reason, really knocked me out again. When I got to the turnaround, I decided to sit in the van for a minute, but when I did, I got quite dizzy and almost passed out. For some reason, my blood glucose has dropped badly, despite the mixture of glucose polymere and high quality sport drink I’d been ingesting all day. I decided to stay a the spot for fifteen minutes to see if I could bring it back up, but all I did was get really sleepy, so Paul and I decided to return to Hamilton. All the way back, I wondered what I was going to say to all the wonderful people that had sponsored me, etc, and can we come back in a week or two and finish it, and so forth.

Back home, Dorothy was kind enough to remove my shoes and socks, and the duct tape with which I’d taped my feet to prevent blisters. This is an operation that would normally take me about an hour, but she ripped it right off with probably all the hair on my feet. I didn’t look up, for fear I might find her enjoying herself. This was, I think, around 10 p.m., and I fell asleep.

I awoke around 6 am, and hobbled downstairs, a bit surprised at how relatively good I felt. As I ate a bowl of Corn Flakes, the insane thought came to me that I could go out there today and finish this thing. I checked this idea with the wife, and she said that Gord and Taylor said last night that they’d be waiting for my call.

First I called Paul, then Gord, then we were pretty much on our way back up to Cambridge. Taylor and I actually commenced running at 8:45, and started off at a surprisingly good pace, just short of four miles an hour, which we kept up for a full nineteen kilometers, to the aid stop just west of Paris. Taylor’s goal yesterday was to reach 50 miles for the first time, having done 47.5 miles during a 24 hour race in Ottawa last year or the year before. Today, he was to become the first eleven year old to go 100 kilometers in less than 48 hours. He really struggled through the last few kilometers, then took to the van at Highway 24. He was so proud he didn’t even mind when I called him a big loser.

Here I ordered a Big Mac, which was delivered to me at the next aid station at Powerline Road. I was starting to slow down a bit myself, and running was becoming more of a problem, so more than half of the effort now became walking.

I got through the quarry and the road section, but the heat was really severe, as the breeze of yesterday was but a memory and the air was deathly still. In addition, one of the things that contributed to my situation the day before was a severe sunburn on my calves, which I got in the morning, when I didn’t think the sun was on that part of my body. Eventually, about half of the pain and stiffness that I felt in my legs were due to the burn. Today, despite all sorts of ointments and lotions, the pain had hardly abated, especially in the next sections down past the golf course, and along the dikes, where the sun seemed to bear on me like a magnifying glass on an ant. If I may digress, I heard that this was George W. Bush’s environmentally friendly policy to use solar energy instead of electricity or chemicals in executing people in Texas, tie them down out in the desert and use a magnifying glass on them. At any rate, at the bottom of the golf course hill, I pretty much walked all the rest of the way. However, the pace was good, for me, still around 3.5 miles an hour, and otherwise quite comfortable.

At around 40 kilometers (120 kilometers or 75 miles overall), I was now entering the portion where the finish line would beckon me, and I could begin to think a bit more about that than just getting to the next station. The angle of the sun had decreased enough to be comfortable, so my pace continued strong, past the Chapel, the Landslide, the underpasses, eventually passing east of Brantford into the Jerseyville countryside. Of course, all along the way, there was wildlife to observe: chipmunks, toads, crickets, all sorts of birds, an opossum, and the occasional deer. Just south of Fairchild Creek, a family, which was coming towards me on their bikes, suddenly stopped their bikes a looked into a field. As soon as my view was clear of a small thicket, I saw a deer, perhaps 50 feet away, who stared back at us for about three minutes, then left, in not too big a hurry.

Of course, I always enjoy the flora as well, and learned the names of many of the common wildflowers in the years when Martha and I walked everyday to school, such as Black Medick, Pineapple Weed, and so forth.

There were lots of other trail users both days, primarily bikers, of all sorts and descriptions, but mostly quite fashionably dressed. It seems that the bikers are the most fashion conscious of the weekend warriors. Whatever turns them on, I say, except for the Bobsy Twin types with matching everything including bikes. These types should be given a good slap in the head, in my opinion.

With 23 kilometers to go, which was at the Jerseyville Road crossing west of Jerseyville, Taylor joined me for the finish, with a goal of completing 75 miles for the two days. During this next section, a long one, I brought a flashlight, which I didn’t really need, though it was getting quite dark by the time we got to Jerseyville, and now the myriads of fireflies were showing themselves.

In my mind, these creatures should be added to St. Anselm’s list of Proofs for the Existence of God (I think there were six). You will have a hard time explaining to me how this magnificent, though rather small being simply evolved on its own.

At Jerseyville, my wife was there, and Paul had gone home. Taylor’s and my pace continued strong, though it took a few hundred yards to get loosened up every time we sat down at an aid station. We found that except in the darkest sections of wood, the flashlights were unnecessary, this despite the fact that there was no moon and it was now quite overcast.

The next section seemed interminably long and it seemed to stagger us a bit, but there was no thought of quitting. With sixteen kilometers to go, I surpassed my previous best distance of ninety miles, done two years ago. I had also passed through the eighty mile mark in less than 24 hours, equaling my time a Vermont, some five years ago. The ninety mile mark today was reached after 28 hours of running time, which took me 29 hours two years ago on the trail north of Belleville, so this was a bit of a triumph.

With about eleven kilometers to go, Gord jumped into it with us, and our pace seemed to pick up. It was now too difficult to read the watch and time the distance between the kilometer markers, but Gord said he thought we were doing as well or better than I had through the Brantford stretch. Another factor in encouraging our pace was the flashes of lightning in the distance to the west.

Dorothy met us for the last time at Ewen Road in Hamilton at the Mile 0 mark, and we motored in from there along the back yards, the train yards, and the train tracks, with me counting the time between the lightning flashes and the thunder, which by this time had also arrived to accompany the approaching storm. By the time we reached the Aberdeen yards, a light rain had begun to fall, though the lighting, which eventually must have passed north of the area, never arrived. The rain only began falling more seriously just as we ascended the hill to my house, and we were no more wet than we had been the previous morning from our sweat. It was about 1:45 a.m., Sunday, July 2, 2000. The total time running was Out: 14:45, Back: 16:38, Total: 31:22. Total elapsed time: 45:10.