Indianapolis Life 500 Festival Mini-Marathon

January 19, 2002

By Matt Morris

If he hadn't broken his femur in a skiing accident, Lee Perkinson would never have run in the first Indianapolis Life 500 Festival Mini-Marathon. In fact, he hadn't even heard about the new event to be run on the city's main thoroughfares as part of the activities leading up to the running of the 1977 Indianapolis 500.

Perkinson was running to help mend his fractured leg when a friend asked if he planned to enter the new race. "I didn't know at the time what it was," he recalled. But he figured that since he had a head start on training, and with the motivation of his two sons who were running high school track, he decided to at least attempt the 7-mile race, offered along with the half-marathon that first year.

He ended up running the half, and even though he laid on the pavement for an hour afterward, "swearing up and down that it was the stupidest thing I ever did," Perkinson kept coming back. Now, the 66-year-old from Indianapolis is gearing up for his 26th consecutive mini-marathon, joining a select group of 13 runners - 11 from Indiana and one each from Illinois and Georgia - who last year were honored for having participated in every race.

Mike Vollmer of Indianapolis literally was running for office when he decided to participate in the first Mini Marathon in 1977. Vollmer had been elected to the Indianapolis City-Council Council the previous year and figured that since the course traversed the district he represented, what better way to get out among his people that by running through their neighborhoods.

Running for office may have been a lot easier for Vollmer than running the Mini the first two years. He almost didn't come back for No. 3. "The first two years the race started at 11 a.m. It was very hot and humid, and when I finished I thought, 'This is dumb!" recalled Vollmer, 51, administrator of the Transitional Care Unit for St. Francis Hospital and Health Center.

A friend talked him into running No. 3 in 1979. As the race grew in stature and the entries climbed from a few hundred to several thousand, he kept on running. "It's the signature event of the city," he explained. "In the hospital business people always ask how many beds you have. If you're a runner, people always ask you how you did in the Mini."

At 47, Al Such is one of the youngest members of the 25 Club. The electrical engineering team leader from Indianapolis entered the first Mini "on an impulse and a dare." Several acquaintances had just graduated from Indiana University-Purdue University at Indianapolis and wanted to keep in shape. They made a pact to run the race.

Participating in the Mini became an annual rite of spring for Such - and thousands of other runners. "The event is very enjoyable and a good start on summer," he said. "The participants, volunteers, and community support make the event a lot of fun."

Jerry Bates is another one who entered the first Mini on a dare - and a big dare it was. "Running is really not one of my favorite things to do, and I had never run longer than a mile at one time," the 49-year-old Morton, IL resident recalled. "But somebody told me I couldn't do it, that at 25 I was over the hill. Well, that was what did it!"

After failing to talk his younger brother into running with him, Bates laced up his low cut Converse the Wednesday before the race and set out to attempt a five-mile run. "I got cramps, turned around and walked home," he said. Not to be deterred, he bought his first pair of "real" running shoes - a pair of Pumas - the next day.

The following day, Friday, Bates took off with nearly 800 other inaugural participants and ran the entire way, finishing in 1:58. "It was most exhilarated I have ever felt," he said.

For many years, the Mini was more like a family reunion for Bates. His brother, David (who's only missed the first Mini), his wife, a brother-in-law and his stepfather all have participated in the race. "It's always been a homecoming," said the Thorntown, IN native.

Such said he never really thought of how many Minis he had run until year 19, and he never felt any pressure to keep a streak alive until last year, when he met his fellow members of the 25 Club. "While I am the youngest member," he said, "the others are in great shape and intend to run for a long time. So, besides being a participant, I have some serious and fun competition."

A four-time Ironman participant, Perkinson kept entering the Mini every year in the 1980s and early 1990s because the Mini was a good way to keep his running on track as he prepared for the triathlon season. "It really was a reason for me to start becoming fit for summer," he explained.

Vollmer never thought much about his string either until 1997 when caps promoting the 20th Mini were being sold. "A friend said I ought to buy one since I'd done every race," he said. "She asked me how many others had done every one." Vollmer had no idea, but since he was a key volunteer in race planning, he began some detective work that led to the formation of the 25 Club.

It wasn't until last year that Bates even realized how many Minis he had run. "Honestly, it never entered my mind how many I'd run until I got the letter about the 25 Club," explained the purchasing manager, who turns 50 and celebrates his 25th wedding anniversary with a cruise right before the race.

Some of the club members have found it challenging to keep their strings alive.

The most serious threat to Perkinson's string of Minis came in 1985, when he had major surgery only 45 days before the race. "I said to my doctor, 'I have this string going, any reason I can't run?'" The physician said to let pain be his guide, so Perkinson tolerated the discomfort. "It wasn't a fast one," he remembered, "but I did it."

Vollmer has a few minor injuries over the years, but nothing serious enough to threaten his string. "I've done 14 marathons, but I have never been a high mileage runner," he explained, "and so I've been fortunate in regard to injuries." That isn't to say that keeping a perfect record has been easy for Vollmer, who runs about 10 races a year. "It's the only race throughout the year that I get nervous about," he said. "It's the biggest race of the year and everyone always asks how you did."

While Such's Mini record has never been in jeopardy, he joked, "I think about not running the next year around mile 12 of every race!"

Walking pneumonia kept Bates from running for six weeks leading up to race day a few years ago. "I did not run one step until the race," recalled Bates, who still managed to walk and run his way to a 1:59 finish, beating the two-hour mark as he has done every year.

The heat, blisters and an overall miserable run in 2000 did lead Bates and his brother, David, to agree after finishing that they wouldn't be back. "Then I got the letter about the 25 Club and it inspired me. I also felt obligated." His training was inspired: he finished last year in 1:39 - his best Mini time.

Since being in the media spotlight last year as part of the silver anniversary Mini celebration, 25 Club members have enjoyed some celebrity status - even when taking out the trash. When Perkinson took his recyclables to the supermarket recently while still in his running attire, a man came up to him and said, "I know you, you've run the Mini every year."

While he may not have been a "celebrity" then, Vollmer has another claim to fame. He has one of the few surviving photos from the inaugural race in 1977. He's pictured at the starting line, standing next to two-time Olympic marathon medallist and initial Mini winner Frank Shorter.

How long will the 25 Club members' streaks continue?

"I have been so fortunate and blessed that I have stayed healthy," said Bates. "The only thing that might make me quit would be a breakdown in health."

"Fifty is a nice round number," said Vollmer. "I'd like to try for that."

The others seem game to keep their streaks alive as well. They joked last year about forming a Last Man's Club, like those formed by Civil War soldiers. Maybe they'll keep a bottle of Gatorade for the surviving member to toast the others.

Mini Trivia: Controversy struck the race in 1980. An Illinois runner was the first to cross the finish line, but he was later disqualified for not being officially registered. The title went to Eric Wood of Greencastle, IN.

Mini Update: Entrants in the Indianapolis Life 500 Festival Mini-Marathon can save $15 and those planning to participate in the AT&T Wireless 5K $10 if registered before April 1. The half-marathon fee increases from $40 to $55, and the 5K fee jumps from $25 to $35. Registration is available on-line only from April 1 through April 12 - unless the field is filled sooner.

Matt Morris is a freelance writer from Bloomington. The running statistic about which he is most proud is being among the smallest percentage of non-finishers in New York Marathon history when he dropped out in 1986

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