Perry Edinger: Running Junkie
By Joe Gisondi | Originally Published in the Fall 2011 Eastern Illinois Alumni magazine
Perry Edinger's body started to shut down.
At 10,000-plus feet, Edinger's body struggled to inhale oxygen in the lighter air. His stomach churned. His bowels gurgled. His brain hallucinated. He needed to get energized, but food made him feel nauseous. So Edinger '84 struggled with each step through an icy mist that clung to his skin and slowly soaked his clothes. It didn't matter that it was August. At high altitudes like this, snow fell during all seasons.
This was a test, Edinger knew, not only of his physical fitness, but of his ability to get his life back after several years of personal hell. At the moment, though, Edinger could barely think about that next step. His crew implored him forward at the aid station.
By this point, he was hyperglycemic, so his body had stopped working and his mind had stopped thinking – a precarious situation for someone navigating narrow trails along mountain ridges like those in the Leadville 100-mile ultramarathon, one of the world's most grueling races. Fewer than half the people who start the Leadville 100 finish the race through Colorado's Rocky Mountains.
Edinger planned to complete four ultramarathons – the sport's Grand Slam – in less than four months. Leadville is typically the penultimate leg in a series that includes the Western States 100, which winds through mountains in southern California; the Vermont 100 that ascends 15,000 feet; and the Wasatch Front 100, which has a cumulative elevation of 26,882 feet through Utah.
Finishing equates to a victory in these races. Completing all four sometimes can be a miracle, especially at times like this, when the body falls to pieces. No more than a dozen people typically finish these grueling races in a single season. Yet, Edinger aimed to win the Slam – if he could find a way to traverse another 74 miles of steep inclines, rapid descents and open trails within 30 hours. At the moment, that seemed implausible.
The next 14 miles proved even more dreadful. Edinger vomited, diarrhea flowed down his shorts and legs. His brain made stuff up. The altitude started playing with his mind as well. He had not built immunity to the lighter air. Edinger, who worked as a physical therapist in Phoenix, did not have the money to depart early, so he arrived the night before the 4 a.m. start.
Even though Edinger was alone by mile 26, he imagined other runners passing him, which was about as likely as apparitions from the nearby ghost towns flitting by. At times, Edinger would step off the trail for these illusory figures, nearly falling down or sliding off dirt trails that can drop precipitously. The trail is sometimes hard to find, and follow, for those able to see clearly.
By mile 40, Edinger's stomach eventually allowed him to ingest some liquids and food. His body responded, slowly at first, and enabled him to pick up the pace and clear his head enough to eventually navigate tight switchbacks up and down mountains that rose to 12,600 feet. He finished in 29 hours, 18 minutes and 33 seconds, good enough for 141st place among the nearly 400 race entrants. More than 200 runners either dropped out or failed to finish within the time limit.
Twenty-one runners were eliminated from the Grand Slam competition, leaving Edinger and five others to compete in the final two races. Putting him in a position to actually win the Slam in his first attempt. Most importantly, though, Edinger had found another way to avoid feeling as though he'd failed again, as he believed he had when he could not save his wife a few years earlier.
ADVERSITY IS nothing new for Perry Edinger.
At Mattoon Junior High, he regularly took lidocaine and steroid shots so he could compete. His feet have always been a mess. He had the feet of a 70-year-old even as a teen, his doctor told him. In one race, blood squished through his shoes when blisters burst, prompting his coach to yell, "Get your ass off the track." But Edinger continued to work hard, eventually taking 20th in the state cross country championships. At Eastern, Edinger recorded times that remain among the best in school history – second-best indoor 5K time in 14 minutes, 11 seconds; seventh-best outdoor 5K (14:26.24); seventh-best outdoor 10K (30:09.3); and fourth-best 3,000-meter steeplechase (9:01.49). He even defeated Craig Virgin, who eventually won two world cross championships and competed in three Olympics, in a 3-mile state indoor championship in 1984. That year, he also qualified for the U.S. Olympic Trials in the 5,000 meters before an injury to his IT band, or thigh, prevented him from racing.
In recent years, Edinger has faced other racing challenges. Surgeons fused the bones in his left foot, thanks to an accident in the college steeplechase. The orthopedic surgeon cautioned him to take it easy, that he probably would be unable to seriously race anymore. A few weeks after he recovered, he handed the surgeon a trophy he had earned for winning a local 5K race. Said Edinger: "If you get it in your mind, no matter what condition you're in, you can finish what you start."
Edinger also broke his wrist and a few ribs while training for the Grand Slam after slipping off a trail on a mountain before dawn. A friend patched him up at home. Two weeks later, he ran in a 50-mile race. It was the hardships off the course that hit Edinger hardest. His father died. Then, his brother. When his wife died, he nearly gave up, something he had never done in anything before in his life.
As a medical researcher, he had been certain he could find a way to help Samantha defeat ovarian cancer, looking everywhere all the time for answers. She fought. He kept researching. A few years later in April 2007, she passed away. Unfairly, he blamed himself.
"I felt I had failed to keep her alive," Edinger said. "She had put her trust in me to help her through the ordeal and she didn't make it and I took it very personally. I simply jumped in my RV with my two dogs and wanted to rebuild my life where no one would ask me about it and I could try and get over the failure of not 'saving my wife.'"
Edinger did not want to answer questions about his wife, so he ran even more in order to avoid people. Before Sam passed away, Edinger had planned to run the Western States 100. Eventually, he decided to take on the Grand Slam, which he eventually won, finishing the four races in 96 hours, 38 minutes and 12 seconds – thanks to his gutsy effort midway through the Leadville race.
The Slam earned him a rare berth in the Badwater Ultramarathon, a 135-mile race in torturous conditions through Death Valley, where temps can rise to 120, concluding with a 4,660-foot ascent through the final 13 miles to the top of Mount Whitney, at 14,505 the tallest peak in the contiguous United States. Edinger finished in 29 hours, 19 minutes, 4 seconds, despite stressed, swollen feet and another fight with food in the middle of the race. He lost 19 pounds and five toenails.
That would be his last big racing challenge, Edinger said afterward.
Since then, he has mostly helped friends pace through marathons, worked on his medical studies, and directed Pat's Run, a 4.2-mile race in honor of his close friend Pat Tillman, an NFL linebacker who was killed while fighting as an Army Ranger in Afghanistan.
Edinger also spends time with his wife, Amy, and their 14-month-old son, appropriately named Miles – a runner for more than five months, Perry boasts.
"I used running to build my confidence, reconnected back to the healthcare profession and decided I wanted to make more of myself," Edinger said. "I kept too much inside. Consequently, it took a little longer to get over the whole process, but everything is good now."
