The Road Life: Part 2

The (REALLY) Low-Budget Team

By Maggie Haskins

Despite 480 miles and more than nine hours on a bus, Tigers teammates Ramsey (235), Bales (227) and Ashley Patten (233) weren't running on fumes come race time. David E. Klutho/SI

A 960-mile bus trip, 15 girls, 15 guys and a baby. Sound like a pitch for a crazy comedy caper? No, it's 54 hours with the Missouri cross-country team. 

The college athletes on this motor coach won't be obsessing over their SportsCenter highlights, their draft stock or how to spend their first signing bonus. At Missouri the men's and women's cross-country teams operate on a combined annual budget of $36,000; the football team, by comparison, spent $1.2 million last year. Needless to say, you will never find these Tigers on a chartered jet (SIOC, Oct. 21). A bus ride from hell is far more typical of a college road trip than the police escorts and adoring boosters of the football world.

So grab your running shoes; we're going to South Bend. On a budget.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 30

8 a.m. Hearnes Athletic Center, Columbia, Mo.

The bus is sorely in need of a visit from MTV's Pimp My Ride. There are no rims, and the nine-inch TV screens bear little resemblance to the latest plasma sets. The seats are upholstered in a pattern that looks like a Cosby sweater, and far too much time and energy is expended figuring out how to lower the armrests.

Xzibit would have a field day.

But for the men and women of the Missouri cross-country teams, the coach is a step up from the vans they sometimes ride in -- and it is the preferred mode of travel for most nonrevenue sports programs. Unlike many of their football and basketball counterparts, these runners will have no personal DVD players or catered buffets. Instead they will subsist on a steady diet of Ben Stiller flicks and fast-food stops.

The freshman girls are the last to board. They survey the limited seating available, all next to boys, which creates that uncomfortable vibe so familiar to elementary school buses. Junior Matt Noonan, brandishing a newly shorn Fu Manchu 'stache (he assures me it's aerodynamic), invites one to sit with him. Summer Owens obliges.

Aside from a Y chromosome and a Top 25 ranking (the women's team is ranked ninth nationally), the men and women are quite similar. At Missouri they act as one team -- they share a budget -- which is not surprising given that their coaches are married. Jared and Rebecca Wilmes are a match made in Mizzou cross-country heaven. Rounding out the family -- and the traveling party -- is the Wilmeses' 11-month-old son, Garrett, the Tigers' mascot of sorts.

9 a.m. The VCR isn't working. Panic begins to set in.

Jared Wilmes sighs. "We usually get a nicer bus," he explains, "but the football team needs one this weekend too."

"They stay in Jefferson City [Mo.] before home games so the players won't get distracted," he adds with a hint of sarcasm.

10:30 a.m. On Interstate 57 rolling toward Chicago

"Do it!"

Thankfully, the VCR has been revived, and Starsky & Hutch is playing. I'm involved in a game of hearts as intense as the World Series of Poker. Jared Wilmes just shot the moon again. Redshirt freshman Nate Smith, senior Jill Petersen and I are in disbelief. Wilmes is Paul Newman in The Sting when it comes to hearts.

Everyone else on the bus is doing work or pretending to study while actually admiring the comedic genius of Snoop Dogg on the tiny TVs.

"I'm reading about babies born with their spines exposed," says co-captain Amanda Bales, a redshirt junior majoring in physical therapy.

Tipper O'Brien, a sarcastic sophomore who refuses to ever take off his black sunglasses, is clutching his Advertising and Research book. He will hold the volume for the entire ride without opening it.

Noon. Lunch break in Effingham, Ill.

So a priest, a rabbi and a blonde are on a bus.... Keeping the Faith, the next installment of our Ben Stiller marathon, is on-screen when the bus pulls off the interstate onto the Avenue of Mid America. The monotonous landscape of cornfields breaks, giving way to a very un-Atkins-friendly environment. The team has 50 minutes to chow down.

The boys hit up Wendy's; the girls choose Quiznos. Both are cost-efficient moves, considering each athlete was given only $52 for five meals (thank goodness for free hotel continental breakfasts) and any energy bars or Gatorade he or she might want.

2 p.m.Somewhere in Illinois on I-57 (it all looks and sounds the same)

Petersen points out that Ben Stiller has a cameo in Orange County. Three for three.

4:30 p.m. 30 miles from South Bend

"See what happens when we've been on the bus for too long?" says senior Serena Ramsey, who has just handed off a giant piece of gum to Petersen. Petersen adds a 19th piece to the wad and begins her futile attempts to blow a bubble.

I ask Bales if there is any sweet, sweet lovin' going on between team members. She points to two upperclassmen who she says used to hook up. The guy is napping with his head in the girl's lap. Used to, huh? Two other runners dated this summer, and Bales is dating a former X-Cer. I'm a tad disappointed not to find a Dawson-Joey-Pacey love triangle.

5 p.m. South Bend

The bus pulls into a Quality Inn & Suites. No boosters greet the team. Players are quickly given room assignments. There is little time to inspect the lodgings, because the team has to hustle to Notre Dame's course to do a "little" seven-mile run-through.

8 p.m. Fazoli's, South Bend

While eating her $6.59 meal, Ramsey confesses she has a problem with the bedding at the motel. "The top sheet gets funky!" she says.

Like many Americans, Ramsey has seen the Dateline exposés about the unmentionable stains left on unwashed motel comforters. Because the athletes sleep three to four in a room and often share a bed, Ramsey's paranoia affects junior Valerie Lauver as well. "She takes all the sheets," Lauver laughs, "because she is so cold and won't use the comforter."

"Don't worry," Ramsey says. "I brought my winter pajamas."

Somehow I can't imagine Matt Leinart and Reggie Bush having the same conversation.

9:15 p.m. Quality Inn & Suites, South Bend

The women's team is having its prerace meeting in the track and field sports information director's room. The 14 runners are seated on the bed. "Grab something at the gas station after you run tomorrow morning," Rebecca Wilmes says.

Gas station minimarts are crucial sustenance stops for the Tigers. Team members usually come away with PowerBars and Gatorade, both of which fit into their budgets.

9:30 p.m. It's the men's turn to strategize in Room 314. When conversation turns to the time of the race, Noonan pipes up: "Mom said she read that it started at 6 p.m. eastern."

With that kind of setup, redshirt junior Rem Moll can't resist. "Oh, really, Mom said that?" Moll asks.

Noonan, without missing a beat, turns to Moll and says, "I am going to hit you in the face."

The room breaks into laughter. The race is confirmed for 5 p.m. local time. And Noonan is reminded to tell Mom.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 1

1 p.m. University of Notre Dame

Everyone on campus is wearing football blinders. Heisman hopeful quarterback Kyle Orton and the high-flying Purdue Boilermakers are in town, and the Irish faithful are itching for an upset tomorrow that might vault their team back into the Top 25.

It's not only the students who want to start tailgating a day early. Notre Dame alumni, parents and little kids clad in blue-and-gold are getting psyched to "wake up the echoes." The marching band can be heard in the background, performing at one in a series of pregame pep rallies.

Nearly 900 runners from 57 schools descend on the campus, yet not a head turns in the direction of the race. Orton himself would have to be running for the competition to generate more than a passing glance.

3:15 p.m. Burke Memorial Golf Course, Notre Dame Invitational

Cross-country courses rarely include indoor plumbing, which explains the Porta Potties. At Notre Dame, 10 are lined up 100 yards from the start line and are shared by athletes and spectators alike. With lines typically 30 runners deep, many Tigers instead use the tall weeds located behind Missouri's home base. "When there's a long line at the Porta Potties, you just go where you can," Ramsey says.

She chuckles and alludes to a team poop-fest at their previous meet, the Nebraska Invitational. I'm afraid to explore the topic further. For cross-country runners, it turns out, knowing how to pop a squat is almost as important as knowing how to kick to the finish.

The girls are getting pumped for their race. Lauver has given every teammate a mix CD that features one song for each member. Petersen, following in the footsteps of Michael Phelps, listens to Eminem's Lose Yourself. Bales prefers Let's Get It Started by the Black Eyed Peas, more appropriate than the Let's Get Retarded version preferred by drunk college kids pounding shots. The CD could also be used by the men to pump themselves up ... until the mix arrives at Ready to Run. The boys don't listen to no stinkin' Dixie Chicks.

4:15 p.m. Cross-country is the ultimate spectator sport. It might not draw 60,000 fans, but those who do come are more than passionate. Coaches, friends, parents and grandparents turn into a golf gallery on speed once the women's race starts. They scramble from point to point along the course, shouting, "Let's go, Chase!" and, "Come on, Ashley!" Parents even yell out split times if a coach hasn't already.

Runners struggling at the back of the pack don't hear any shouts of encouragement. Instead they are shunned -- and perhaps a tad embarrassed -- as the gallery sprints away to cheer on faster runners.

6 p.m. Though both races are over, the running doesn't stop for the Tigers. Each team jogs two to four more miles as a cooldown. Gatorade cups and Nalgene bottles are strewn amidst a sea of Missouri backpacks and spikes.

The women's team had an exceptional day, taking fourth out of 24 schools in the 5K race. Bales, an All-America, led the way with a personal-best time of 17:01, good for ninth overall. Her top 10 finish earns her a free Adidas bag. The men also did well, finishing 13th out of 24.

11 p.m. Parking lot outside of Bruno's, South Bend

The team is about to hit the road after dinner at a local Italian restaurant. Parents and friends alike packed into the back room of Bruno's to eat pizza, pasta and salad, with the Missouri athletic department picking up the athletes' portion of the check. Score!

The bus smells a little because the Tigers didn't have a place to shower after the meet. The runners will have to inhale each others' essences until 1:30 a.m., when the entourage will stop at the Fairfield Inn in Normal, Ill., for a second night of four to a room and mysteriously stained bedding.

Garrett lets out periodic cries. Tootsie Rolls and cookies are passed back and forth. There is a brief mutiny over the movie choice. Along Came a Spider is put into the VCR, ending Stiller's streak.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2

10 a.m. Somewhere in Illinois on I-57 (still all looks and sounds the same)

With an anticipated arrival time of 2 p.m., many of the team members are getting psyched up for the Colorado-Missouri football game scheduled to begin at 2:30.

"I got in trouble for rushing the field after the Nebraska game," says Lauver, recalling the Tigers' 41-24 upset victory in October 2003.

Outside of the occasional patch of conversation, most of the runners are reading. Becca Miller, a freshman, is buried in David Hume's Concerning Human Understanding. O'Brien finally opens his Advertising and Research book. The team is tired. Jared Wilmes announces that they will stop for food after they drop off a pesky reporter at the airport. The athletes know it won't be champagne and caviar, but they don't mind at all.

Issue date: October 28, 2004