Mid-Ohio: The Longest Lap
(Editor’s Note: Don’t judge this story by its title. Just because Rich Grunenwald’s lap of Mid-Ohio Sports Car Course was kind of long doesn’t mean he didn’t walk away a winner. If you have a story to share, write it up and send it over to media@scca.com – and don’t forget to include a photo.)
Like many of us, I’ve been a car guy since I was old enough to stand on a milk crate and look over a fender. By high school, the focus was sports cars and racing. By college, I committed to racing sports cars wheel-to-wheel.
Dad fueled the fire by bringing home a ratty MGB. The MGB gave way to more reliable transport, but I scraped together enough for a new Fiat X-1/9, which introduced me to autocross, “time trials” at speed on a parking lot through a course outlined by pylons.
My wife to-be, Kathy, liked the car and joined me in autocross. She turned out to be - and remains - the natural in the family. She’s humbled many a male ego, including mine, with her skills. The best part is she “gets” cars, so it’s easy to spend foolish sums for the latest go-fast part!
In 1987, I reached my goal of racing wheel-to-wheel (courtesy of AJ Toth and Bob Bednarczuk), and Kathy joined shortly thereafter. In the 1990s, we raced all over at Mid-Ohio, Road Atlanta, Watkins Glen and others. The journey, of course, is most of the fun and we cherish those days.
We set it aside, raised a family, built careers, and paid for houses. The kids grew up and we got the itch again. We returned to autocrossing, and now travel to obscure places like Peru, Indiana; Blytheville, Arkansas; and Lincoln, Nebraska, all to spend a few hours with friends driving around pylons.
Still, the desire to race wheel-to-wheel burns in us. We’ve been thinking about getting back on track to “turn a wheel in anger” at Mid-Ohio and other venues. Besides, I want to better my best lap of 1:48.2 at Mid-Ohio.
Of course, at age 52, I was not the same svelte form I was at age 28 as a result of too much food and too little exercise. Blood pressure, cholesterol, overweight, fatigue -- all qualities that do not favor a racer.
A friend introduced me to a local gym in 2012. “This will be great,” I thought to myself. “I can get in shape and go racing again!” It has been life changing. A year later, I was off all the meds, and stronger, faster. By 2014, my brother and I started doing “mud runs” or “obstacle races” as they are called. We dubbed ourselves “The Old Chub Club.” And after a few short races, set a goal to do the 11-mile “Tough Mudder” at Mid-Ohio Sports Car Course in Lexington, my old sports car stomping grounds.
But alas, during a physical my doctor found a heart murmur. Fast forward to a surgery team knocking me out, cracking me open, fixing a valve, and buttoning me up. When I awoke, I told Kathy and the doctors the goal for recovery was to be ready for a Tough Mudder. They probably thought I was still loopy from the anesthesia.
Cardiac rehab started. My first attempt at a push-up resulted in a face-plant on the floor. Routines that I flew through before were beyond reach. But, slowly, strength returned and with the Tough Mudder only a few weeks away, I made my first run where I was winded within a quarter mile and heart rate way above where it should’ve been. More runs showed little progress, and chances became slim that I’d reach my goal.
“Disappointed” would be a kind word. The night before the scheduled Tough Mudder, I was sipping mint juleps, playing guitar and hanging with friends. “There will be other Tough Mudders,” is what I thought. But deep down, I hated the feeling inside.
Kathy had to work the next morning, so what happened next is sort of her fault since you should never leave a man alone when he has something on his mind. “This is a nice day,” I said to myself. “The Mudder’s already paid for. I’ll just go and do a couple miles. Run for a couple minutes, walk for a minute.”
Start time was 10:45am on the Mid-Ohio pit straight. We all headed off towards Turn 1 under the bridge. Turns 2 through the Keyhole, I walked. Down the back straight, I ran. Walk. Run. Repeat. Through the first few obstacles. Slogged through mud. Swung and fell into cold muddy water. Crawled through muck.
Got to mile three and thought, “I feel OK. I’ll keep going.” Miles four, five and six went by with no issue. Just run, then walk, and everything was good. Climbed the walls, lifted logs, carried another participant 100 yards or so.
Mile seven came along and I thought, “Well, I’m all in now!” More run, more walk. The last mile was the toughest, yet most exhilarating. It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t pretty, but it was the realization I could do it. Across the finish I looked up at the clock on the infield scoreboard which read “2:28 pm.”
3 hours and 43 minutes? Pretty slow for a lap around Mid-Ohio.
Photo: Rich Grunenwald at the Mid-Ohio Sports Car Course
