Sweet Tea and Yuengling

Just got back from a week long stay back home. Couple of days in the mountains and a couple days at Mom's. Ran Whiteside Mountain and hiked it a couple of times, legs felt fine and ready for a good long walk around Silverton. The day after we got there I ran a 5k with the wife and my brother. It was his first 5k, and he got 3rd in his age group. I did not place, but had a good time considering that it was a road run and the course was just too generic. Lots of family time, great food, and a tad too little tea and beer. Got to keep my niece and nephew for a few days and did my level best to wear 'em out. Saw an old high school friend, enjoyed all you can eat crab legs, and basked in "real" warm weather, not this bright fake stuff we have in Kansas with no humidity whatsoever.

Booked the ticket and car for Hardrock. Willie and I have a logistics meeting via phone this evening (which basically means I want to warn him I will be spending some time at the Silverton Brewing Company) and then we're all set. As his pacer, I solemnly vow to make him take a shot if we come across any tequila during the run. New pair of Salomons are making the trip. Checked out video of the Million Dollar Highway, and I didn't think it looked scary at all. Guardrails are overrated anyhow, and don't do anything but wake you up before you go plunging off the side of the mountain. The last time Willie and I were together, we did the Western States 85, a little known event in which you're done at Auburn Lakes Trail, and then go back to the hotel and get as drunk as humanly possible. I swear I saw house plants MOVE that morning.

Social animal

Ran all last week, finishing with the Trail Nerds run up at Lake Perry. I did a self-designed loop with Ben's permission and ended up being out there for about four hours. Time constraints prevented me from being out there all day, and I had to save some time for beer. Wakefield won the half marathon, don't know his time but it was something like 17 minutes, and Darin took the 50K title. Any run that has PBR post-race is a necessary event. Met Bonnie and Ron Ruhs from Blair, Nebraska, another great weight loss story for those keeping track.

Joined the Nerds. Got my Hawk membership renewed in March. I'm not a joiner, so big steps for me. Who knows, I might start actually meeting people for runs or coffee. Weird, must be the better weather, but I no longer feel like flinging my poop at everyone I see.

Now that his kids are old enough to wipe themselves, my brother has taken up running. Next on my plate is a 5k with my wife and bro, how cool is that? It's a road run, but you gotta start somewhere. Been working some lower body strength stuff lately, as Hardrock looms and Willie is doing a million vertical feet per week. If altitude makes everything swell beyond normal size, there will be a picture of my junk on this blog soon. And on facebook. And in the local paper. Right now it's raining...time for a run!

Peace.

Buffett

Running and fitness in general was set aside this weekend in favor of the Buffett concert. Tomfoolery and general merriment were in. I set a personal PR by staying up late two consecutive nights (I am not a night person) and it is a small wonder there is any beer left in Kansas City. I did all I could do. Wowed the crowd with my amazing singing at Howl at the Moon Friday night. Let Buffett do the singing Saturday night while I got absolutely "Wakefielded" on 6 dollar beers.

Past time to get serious about Heartland training. Looking forward to hot weather, dirt road running. Gonna go down to Cassoday a few times this summer, if anyone is up for a half day of jogging let me know. I'll pack a cooler for post-run celebration.

Dr Pepper

Spinach salad to start off the day again. The stuff is rocket fuel and I'm glad summer and fresh produce are right around the corner. Did an hours worth of running and nonstop work stuff since then. Only need to make it 'til Saturday, Jimmy Buffett is rolling into KC and I'm gonna take my liver on a long run.

Tony Clark is in the 10am start group for Badwater. That is perfect, if you know Tony he would not be satisfied unless he's challenged with the hardest possible scenario. Of course, any guy who takes off on a 225 mile weekend jaunt is just not built like the rest of us...

Just finished reviewing the results from Free State. Can't wait to read the reports. I'm curious what the average swim:run ratio was (it's a bit muddy this time of year. Actually, parts of the trail are muddy in AUGUST).

Reading "The Ragged Edge of Silence" by John Francis, so upset over an oil spill back in the early 70's that he spent nearly the next 20 years walking everywhere. And took a vow of silence for about the same time. Considering giving it to some co-workers, maybe that silence thing will stick....

And just so you know, since you've figured out I have nothing to post about...this blog currently fueled by Dr. Pepper. Peace.

Dog bone

Every morning, usually around 8am, my dog comes in my room. Although he doesn't talk, if he did I imagine the first words I would hear are something along the lines of: "I need to pee, poo, and then I want my dog bone!" He has gotten his treat every morning for the past 6 years, but paws and jumps around as if I might somehow forget to give it to him. Once the bone exchange has taken place, there is nothing in the world more important to the dog. He doesn't drink water, growl at noises, or join me on the couch. The bone is the thing, until the end.

So I signed up for the Heartland 100. Given my penchant for paying 100 miler fees to run 50k-50 miles, it's not a stretch to call it a ridiculous proposition. The 100 mile distance, much like the bone, demands my attention. I must do it, just like my dog must treat that bone like a task that has to be completed. I am as excited and nervous as the dog is every morning. Back to reading blogs religously for any iota of training particulate that could propel my own. Wondering what the heck happened around mile 30 last year. No matter. It's an annual race, and I'm gonna keep at the thing until I'm done.

Good to have the bone back.

2011

(Above: in a land far, far away)

Not dwelling on 2010. The short story is that I took DNF to a whole new level, did a number on my hamstring, and fell way short of any goals I had set for running. After the appropriate amount of booze, I went to the calendar and planned this year.

Retraining is gonna take a minute, but in May I'll be doing a 50k or 50 mile in SC. Not sure which option I'm gonna go for, as much of it depends on how quickly my strength returns. If I can't manage speed work by about the third week in April I'll stick with 50K. My feature race is the Speedgoat 50K in July, which I am going to walk with Willie Lambert. Willie was kind enough to register both of us, and it's not too much of a stretch to believe there will be no drinkable alcohol in the entire state of Utah the day after the race, between the two of us. September will see me in Colorado, never been there, and we're gonna spend a week in Steamboat Springs running a couple low-mileage, local events. That, plus I'm excited about the breweries, and need your suggestions if you've been there.

I'll probably throw in a marathon or nine between here and there, but the plans I've set are purposefully low on glitter for several reasons. Aside from a few trips to the brewery, much of the year is planned around diet and strength goals. I have a few, and a mostly vegetarian existence is something I've been toying with for long enough to know I feel better without so much meat in the system.

Somehow, ending this post with a plug for vegetarian diets doesn't seem right, so time for joke of the day: How do porcupines mate? Very carefully! Classic.

Blindfolded

Been feeling like I have a blindfold on lately, but this time it has nothing to do with Valentines Day.

Between incline work, weights, running, and getting my diet back it has been a pretty tame existence. And necessary, I think, to quiet the little voice in my head that reminds me "but you've never done 100 before". Base building took FOREVER, but I finally feel ready to get after it a bit in training, to push just a bit harder and have some confidence in my body to respond. My approach to Western States barely resembles any training plans I had a year ago at this time. Yet the blindfold effect still lingers. Is this really the right way? Does my training reflect a patient, well-thought out plan to succeed, or am I just getting in shape for a big fat DNF?

Although this internal chatter is minimal, I suspect the paranoia will increase in a few months. Lately I've been keeping the self-doubt at bay by going harder...it's hard to think about whether you're doing the right thing while gasping for air or doing the 5th set on the squat rack. Hopefully Rockin' K, Berryman, and the Hawk marathon will provide enough distraction to weather the heavy mileage months with some degree of sanity.

I should note that one thing in my routine is absolutely solid. Every night when I lay down I read something that has to do with Western States. Course descriptions, books, other runners race reports...even if I've already read those items. I close my eyes and slip away to a place where I don't see myself crossing a finish line, or earning a certain buckle. Instead, I visualize rededicating myself to tomorrow and the infinite possibilities it holds. THAT is why I started running. So I tell the little voice in my head that this thing has already been a raging success, no matter the outcome.
Peace.

Beer and yard work

I left for the Ozark Trail 100 thinking about the leaves in my yard.

I did a fair amount of raking the weekend before, but with several mature trees in my yard holding onto their growth I knew it wouldn't be the last time I put on a pair of work gloves. Still, leaving for the run I felt a bit of a twinge of guilt (maybe too heavy a word) over going to the race when there was work to be done around the house.

As it turned out, I didn't know from leaves. But we'll save that for a minute.

I rode down to the race with Dave and Jess Wakefield and Ryne Melcher. David and Ryne would be running, while Jess and I would provide the encouragement while attempting to remain sober. Ryne is a member of Team Montrail, currently residing in British Columbia. If I remember my geography, British Columbia is just the other side of Holton, so wanting to be helpful right from the start I explained what a cheeseburger was as we pulled into Sonic for some fuel. Ryne is a good sport, even if he does live in New Zealand. With proper fuel on board, we headed towards Steelville, Missouri for the pre-race briefing. Rumor had it that the briefing would last about an hour, so I brought a case of beer to try to make it through. After the briefing, we headed to the hotel and some last-minute pizza before turning in.

With ultra-running legend Willie Lambert in tow, we found the start line about 515 the next morning. Over one hundred runners were toeing the line for the inagural OT100. At 6am sharp they were off, with Jeff Browning, Ben Creehan, David, and Ryne leading the charge. Time for the crew to start drinking. Or half the crew, as Jess made some silly excuses about the sun not being up yet, that she had to drive, etc. Whatever, man. Just under three hours later we met Dave and Ryne at the "Deliverance" themed aid station, staffed by Colleen and Debbie among others. Of course, Dave needed something that we had left in the car, and while he left without whatever it was I made a firm resolve to back off the beer. This was going to be work!

At mile 43 I was surprised at how good Dave and Ryne looked. Jess and I were in rythym by then, and although we never had any plans I think that crewing just comes naturally after you've been around it. Whereas when you run you make a plan, crewing happens based on the runners needs and mood, so to plan anything is mostly wishful thinking. But we were a pretty decent team for having know each other for twelve hours. I attempted to jam a lube stick up Rynes' shorts, but he was so insistent that I be gentle I handed the job over to him. Fine, see if I put my hand in your pants again! After seeing the boys off Jess and I found a general store with a lunch counter and tucked into about 10,000 calories worth of food, our first meal of the day.

Anywho, mile 68 found me wanting to run. Just in case I was needed I had brought my gear and wanted to get it on before dark. The guys arrived feeling ok, and took some time to refuel here. They were both running a smart, conservative race and I think this was when I believed they would finish well. Sure, they had over 33 miles to go (the official distance was 101.5 miles) but the two of them seemed dialed in and unbreakable. My new plan was this: if they get to Berryman without needing company, I'm gonna demolish some beers.

I decided to do some pre-work and had about five while talking with the Berryman folks. Tony Clark, Kyle and Stacy Amos, and Deb Johnson...I was among ultra-royalty! The time passed too quickly, and I was trying to get some ultra advice from this group without being too nosy when Dave and Ryne popped out of the woods. They were looking REALLY good, even at the 80 mile mark, when Dave says "We need another pair of eyes."

Awesome, I am tightening my laces before he gets the sentence complete. Dave goes on: "Now I know you've been drinking...". I cut him off - a couple of beers isn't gonna cause me to piss a kidney! Let the lying begin. Pacers lie, and I was starting before we took the first step. I inhaled a cup of noodles and off we go. The leaves were unbelievable. They had to be three inches deep, and as the night wore on and I got tired I couldn't make out the trail. I lost it a couple of times, but luckily the experience in the group got us back on course quickly. The rocks uner the leaves were impossible to see, and I went butt-over-tea-kettle, feet in the air at least twice. Suddenly, I didn't feel as bad about the yard work I left behind. The remaining 20 miles saw Dave and Ryne on auto-pilot, and I learned a good bit about the final stages of a 100 as night turned into morning.

Congratulations to both of them for showing up prepared and nailing it. Also, it is another long story to detail how Jess was critical to the mission, and without her this doesn't get written. But a great time, and a perfect way for me to end the "season"...having fun, taking a jog in the woods with friends, and arriving home to realize that there is always another day to work in the yard.
Peace.

Who I am and who I ain't

So, last weekend I went over to try my luck at the Blue Springs 50KM. I could have also registered for the 50 miler (not enough long runs of late), a marathon (somehow that didn't seem appealing), or a half-marathon (gimme a break, if I'm making that drive it's not gonna be for a half). Dave Wakefield called me the night before the race with the course description: pancake flat, and he was very accurate. Compared to the wonderful trail system at Perry, Blue Springs is a cakewalk. So, an easy course, coupled with amazing weather, allowed me to surprise myself and finish in a shade under five hours. During the race I managed my heart rate well and pounded the electrolytes so my under-trained legs wouldn't cramp. With so many obstacles removed (weather, terrain, etc), I had plenty of time to think about what this season has meant and what I want from running next year. Some observations:

- A DNF at Heartland and Nathaniel's Run in late 2008 were the two best things that ever happened to me as far as 2009 has went. The DNF gets alot of bad press by some, but in my view you stand to learn as much from failing as you do from finishing.

- I must have looked at that Rocky Raccoon finshers medal 100 times in the week after the race. I don't know why, it looked the same every time. I guess it was just a big relief that I finally officially belonged to the ultra club.

- Free State was a blast, and I was in no way prepared for that much mud. I also was not prepared for tornado warnings ending the race prematurely, but the thought that I was capable of finishing was comforting. This was also the race where I learned that in some events, the gear you wear ain't coming out alive. Best to just bury it and buy more stuff.

- Berryman 50: I finally went into a race "ready". By that I mean I didn't call Willie Lambert three times a day the week before the race worried about cough/cold issues, nutrition, tapering bloat, sleep patterns, or the shape of my poop. A gear issue prevented me from nailing a good time, but I was encouraged that I had "matured" enough as an ultrarunner to understand that these things happen and the only thing to do was finish. This was also my wifes' introduction to crewing, and for her it provided some insight as to why I was either lifting weights or running 20hours a week.

- Pacing Western States: first look at a HUGE race, and first look at someone (Willie) digging deep. I am convinced that the ten hours we were out there will remain my all-time favorite running experience.

- And finishing up with Blue Springs, where I'm starting to be able to identify my strengths and weaknesses as a runner. While my pace is usually slower than 90% of the field, holding said pace is a definite strength I must continue to capitalize on. And I really like starting out slow, I'm not talented enough to blast off the start line doing 8mph. I'd like to see my training become more purposeful, making sure I'm doing the right workout at the right pace and intensity. I have had some highs and lows here, and just want to do a little work to make that training consistently productive and not as haphazard.

- While I don't necessarily view it as a huge opportunity, I need to resign myself to the fact that I actually like doing the bulk of my running by myself. I am envious of those who run in packs not just for the social aspect, but running with someone above my ability (read: nearly everyone who has ever laced up a pair of shoes) could push my own workouts. However, somewhere in my DNA there is a "does not play well with others" gene that motivates me to spend an inordinate amount of time alone. It's one of those things that you might not like about yourself, but you aren't willing to change it.

- I also have a 2009 goal around volunteerism that includes trail work. I love working the aid stations, but I enjoy Perry so much I need to do more to help with the upkeep. Need to get in touch with Lyle over the winter and see what we can come up with to keep me actively involved with the local trail scene when I'm not running. For now, I'm going to build some miles and get ready for next year...and hopefully my first 100.
Peace.

Get outta town

For those interested, here's the 2010 schedule I'm looking at:

24 hours of Utah/Moab 100...March

Free State...April

Rocky Mountain Double Marathon, Laramie...May

Leadville

Heartland

If you want to get outta town, let me know. We just got some openings for next years bus (which isn't a bus at all, but you get the idea).

The Hamstring Shop

So, a few weeks ago I was doing my version of speedwork.

Visualization may be the only strength I have as a runner. Maybe disassociation is a better word, as most of the thoughts swirling around in my head have not a chance of happening. I usually come up with something like this for speed:

I am dusting the course. No one expected this dude from Kansas to win here, but due to brutal conditions and a little luck a sub-18 hour performance is enough for a guy no one has ever heard of to win.
At the finish line, sponsors are actually fist-fighting to see who gets to talk to me first. My family is there, with Mom telling everyone "that's my boy!" Trust me, spend thirty seconds with my Mom and she'll launch into the story of me, starting with birth...you'd be lucky if that story lasted sub-18 hours.
Jurek is there, having dropped under the pressure of my relentless attack. The friendly wager we made pre-race has him cooking me a steak.
I pull off my shoes, shake out the toenails, and open my first beer...

Well, you get the idea. In other words, speedwork for me is fantasy time, and whatever goes on in my little head can be as true as it needs to seem to get me through the workout.

This day, though, a bit much. Eight miles at 8:00 mins per, with the last two being hills. Tweaked something, drove too hard, extended my legs way too far out in front of my hips. Here's the short math: $600 in therapy, another couple hundred in massages, THREE prescriptions for pain, muscle relaxer, and inflammation. Just to do the Squaw Valley shuffle.

Since returning, I wasn't able to get back in the groove. Not healed! So, I opened a beer (I never call the man when I'm sober) and dial up Bad Ben. Tell him the story, whine a little, might have cried.
He knew exactly what I was talking about. Knew, in fact, nearly the exact date it happened to him and what to do about it. The exact exercises in the gym to perform. Etc, etc. And I'm happy to report that it is working fabulously! SO, this is a long-winded way to say "Thanks, man".

Jurek, get back on that grill...and put that cute little apron on while you're at it!

Rock Creek #3...night version

My only report from this race is that this may be the only race where I beat Dave Wakefield to the beer cooler. Except I wasn't running, but I'm still counting it as a win!

Great time overall. Big thanks to Willie and Karen Lambert for putting it on!

Psycho Psummer

Great time volunteering at this past weekends Psycho run. The Nerds always put on a quality event and I had been jonesing for the opportunity to help a little at one of their races. Some thoughts:

- to the two people I sprayed with water who were disgusted with it: I am sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. I look forward to seeing the two of you in the next movie about Badwater.

- to the guy who simultaneously threw up and thanked me for holding him up while he did so: you are welcome, sir.

- if you ran this race, you know by know that there is no part of your body I will not ice/massage/etc...'nuff said.

- thanks for the beer, Brett! Nothing says ultra volunteer like a steady diet of PB&J sandwiches and alcohol.

- Thank you to all the runners, and congratulations for having the courage to be there.

- I can't imagine the amount of work that goes into planning and executing this race. Thanks to all those who made it happen.

Peace.

Western States

I have taken some time to craft this, instead of my usual "sit at the keyboard and type the first things that come to mind". However, I am motivated by the supreme efforts I saw at Western States to put a little more thought into this one.

First off, big job by Gabe and Rick Mayo in pulling out sub-24 hour finishes! I'm not going to say any more on that, anyone who didn't already know these guys are animals has a lot of catching up to do on the local ultra scene.

I was pacing Willie. First time pacing, ever. First time on WS course for Willie and I. Maybe first time in history that a WS rookie has chosen as a pacer someone who has not even ran 100 in one week, let alone one day! I can't describe how amped I was. I had my race gear on way before necessary, and as Willie entered Michigan Bluff I thought I was going to jump out of my own skin. At that point, I could have paced an elite.

Except, a great many elites had already dropped by mile 55ish. Think stifling heat. Unforgiving terrain. Lots of folks who had previously dreamed of doing WS, and maybe even finishing top twenty, suddenly thought of something better to do:
- "Maybe I left the light on in the hotel room? I'd better go check!"
- "I haven't called my Aunt Mildred in awhile! Somebody point me to a pay phone immediately."

Or whatever.

I won't detail the overnight trip. Willie has already blogged about it. And while I don't remember reading this anywhere, I like to think that the little things that pacers and their runners share should be kept inside. It's a special thing, like the time your Dad drove you down a country road, tossed you the keys, and gave you the go-ahead to take the wheel. Somehow, the telling wouldn't do it justice.

I wanted to leave a note on his blog. Text maybe. Or maybe send a card. How do you explain to someone that you learned more about running from their example than anything you've witnessed to date? What version of Hallmark card will convey the appropriate message to a man who has trashed himself for 26 hours and still retains the will to do battle? How do you reconcile with being back in the real world, away from the trail, everything is so surreal because the effort, the WORK that you witnessed still brings tears gushing out of your eyes five days later?

I have no idea what to do, so I'm posting this instead...thanks for the keys, boss.

Peace, Lee C.

Rookie

This one's for Gary...

When I started blogging, I titled this based on my experience (none) with the ultra-distances. To date, I'm quite comfortable with the rookie tag for several reasons. First and foremost, I find the elites and pluggers like me (and everyone in between, for that matter) blogging about the same set of circumstances surrounding their latest personal bests...or worsts. The heat, the terrain, the incline, the food that stayed down and the stuff that didn't. New gear. Lost drop bags. Distance does not care whether you've stumbled through one ultramarathon or 200. It is the perfect vehicle to humility.
I also still feel like a rookie for a few reasons related to my own running. Am I made for 100? How fast can I run one (a ridiculous question, in that the speedwork I did ten days ago strained my hamstrings and threatened my ability to pace for Western States, but one still wonders)? Where is the balance between running for so many hours a week and still being a well-rounded individual? If running defines a large part of me, how will I deal with it if I ever can't run due to age, injury, etc? While I want to live life to the fullest, I don't agree with that whole concept of beating the crap out of yourself just to be able to proclaim "Wow, what a life!"

Of course, there is never really a final answer as to what accomplishment really is. Gerry Lindgren was once quoted as saying "If you don't know why you run, you'll never be a good runner." I don't know if I agree with that or not, but if I find out why I run I'll let you know.
Finally, the word "rookie" was so battered around during my days with EOD MU5 that it became a constant way of reminding me that everyone has stuff to learn. Anyone who tells you "do it this way, that way won't work, I know, I know..." is full of shit. It's different every day, every run, every runner. In that sense, we're all rookie.

Sometimes the running gets control of me. Too many miles with no quality, too many times declining dessert, too many missed glasses of port. Too much doubt about my potential. And sometimes I'm in complete control, striking perfectly the line between training and living. Feeling capable, I can do it all. But not often enough. When I'm satisfied with my evolution, maybe I can change the title. It won't be because I have crossed a certain number of finish lines. It won't be if I get the hard-to-earn buckle. It will be when the balance I seek between running and the rest of my life is more defined. While I do have some long distance goals, I see a lot more 10k's in my future than ultras.

The rookie is out...Peace.

Road shoes

Nice hodge-podge of stuff going this past weekend:

Friday pm I took off from work early to go to Outback. Big meal, followed by ice cream and brownies at home. Saturday I had to work until 10pm, and when I got home I walked into a raging party. Big booze fest...Saturday was my birthday, and nice to know somebody could party since I had to work.

Sunday was the most fun, as I got to go on a longish run with Willie and MK Thompson. When we started it was about 93 degrees out, and I felt fine. For the first ten miles or so. Then the heat, or maybe it was all that pavement, started wearing me down. I have been running nearly exclusively on treadmills/trails, and definitely wasn't prepared to do eight hours on pavement. My whining worked, and we cut the run short and back at Willies house for 21.3 miles in just over 4 hours. Willies post-run analysis: "I knew we were in trouble when I saw those white shoes...I don't think I've ever seen Lee in a pair of road shoes." Willie and MK went back out for another few miles: I dug around in the cooler and grabbed a post-run beer. Felt good. Shower and bed immediately...I know, supposed to refuel but I wanted a pillow worse than food. Woke up this morning 5 pounds lighter and way dehydrated, go figure! It's taken most of today to get enough liquid back in the tank.

So, two more weeks of around 50 miles, then a week of 25ish before heading out to Cali. I have been practicing my singing for Western States, and it is still awful...should make it easy for Willie to stay awake!

Memorial Day

God bless the men and women who serve our country. GO NAVY!

Berryman

On Saturday I had the opportunity to run the Berryman 50 miler, situated in the Mark Twain National Forest. The run would be two 24.8 mile loops with a short out and back at the start. Celebrity sightings pre-race: Caleb Chatfield, Greg Burger, Paul Schoenlaub, and Darin Schneidewind. The weather was perfect at the start, a change for the area that had saw rainfall every day for over a week. Remember the windstorm/tornados down in Missouri a few weeks ago? Produced about twenty downed trees on the course that required crawling over or under to get through. So...pretty weather, fun trail!



We took off at 630am, with me leading the "Masters 'whousedtobefastbeforeallthesurgeries' Division". My big hairy audacious goal for this race was under 10 hours. My primary goal, as always, was just to finish. In talking with some vets from the course, I settled into an 11 hour plan, wanting to make the first loop about 5:15 and go from there. I was using a two bottle belt for hydration, something new for me but on Rick Mayo's advice I wanted to skip every other aid station on the first loop. Worked out beautifully, by the way. The first 5 miles of the course are extremely runnable: flat or gentle downhill, mostly in creek beds that had water in them.

Question to self, mile 3: Did I put blister shield on my left heel? (answer later)

The next five miles or so provided a great mix of rolling terrain, some mud pits, and some rocky stuff in the 2 creek beds that didn't have water in them. I hit Brazil Creek, around mile 16, at 2:50 and after soaking my hat and refueling I left out with caution. Again, Mayo had warned me that there were a couple of miles of hills after Brazil so I tried to conserve energy and use this time to enjoy the scenery.
Folks, you shoulda been there. I didn't even know the forest could get that green! There was poision ivy everywhere...just another plant to me, as I'm not allergic to the stuff (thanks, Mom!) and it added to the lush appeal of the place. I was really enjoying myself here: everything about the place reminded me of my childhood home. After a couple of miles the course leveled off a bit (more rocks!) and then came the trees. I had already navigated around a few, but in the last 6 miles of that loop there were at least a dozen huge poles directly on the trail. I was glad that I was a bit ahead of schedule pace-wise, as some of these took some time to get around.

I hit the turn at the five hour mark. These "turns" scare me...they are bad. Family and friends are there. The grill is sizzling. Beer is cold. Everyone is in a lawn chair that looks like a recliner. The car that will take you home is there. I was in enough of a hurry to get the hell outta there before any bad thoughts could creep in, but Darin REALLY helped with that. He had ran the marathon and was absolutely dying to go another loop, but had stuff to do with his family that afternoon. Seeing Darin all torn up about not running the second loop made me feel pretty lucky. Darin got my bottles filled, Jenny came through with the electrolytes and gels, and I was back on the trail in under five minutes. Twenty-five to go.

Answer to previous question, mile 27: "No, there is no blister shield on that heel!"

Also, around mile 27 the tops of my feet began hurting. really. really. bad. I figure this is just lactic acid buildup, so I come up with a new plan. Slow down a bit, pound the electrolytes, freeze my paws in every creek on the course, and things would get better.

Things did not get better. Things most certainly got worse.

It turns out that the low cut socks I was wearing had fallen down into my shoe. The shoe starts chewing up my ankles and the tops of my feet. I leaned against a tree and studied some abrasions, bruising, and some significant swelling. OK, then, new plan: if walking hurts this bad, running can't hurt any worse, so I might as well run. That worked for about two miles before I started getting nauseous...my food/drink plan was so dialed in that I was peeing every thirty minutes and felt great, so I suspect that the distraction my feet had become was now messing with my stomach. I did not take my shoes off because of the swelling, kinda like not opening an envelope that you KNOW contains bad news. So, I walked. And though my feet felt terrible, my stomach felt alot better. New math: I'd rather feel good, besides the feet, and walk than to feel bad and try to run. So I basically walked it in. I would run in spots, but they were few and far between. Since I've already touched on what the course was like, let me share some random stuff from the last 18 miles or so (it's all a blur anyway):

- those flowers are pretty.
- I like the forest.
- I wish there was a toilet out here. With a magazine rack.
- I wonder where I'll eat lunch tomorrow.
- "SWEET CAROLINE...duhduhduh...GOOD TIMES NEVER FELT SO GOOD (sogood!sogood!sogood!)
- Saw Mark Koester out there, looking good. A runner in a trail nerds shirt always picks me up. I ran for 50 steps with him. Adrenaline surge!
- These trees are bulls***! We could have done without that out and back, I've ran a marathon around these trees!
- I am Spartacus!
- Ouch!
- A year ago I would have quit this.

A serious note, I need to practice downhill running and lift more. My uphill stuff is good, but the quick, light turnover I used downhill for the first 20 miles left too quickly. At the last aid station, I was offered a beer. I didn't drink it, but that offer somehow gave me the motivation to jog in slow to the finish. In fact, this still hurt worse than walking but I figured there wasn't enough course left to get sick and DNF.

So, I got there around the 12-hour mark. I could have chosen different socks, but then I wouldn't have had to face being hurt with miles to go. The course was beautiful, even when my plans had fallen apart I enjoyed the scenery and terrain. David and Victoria White put on an excellent race, and the volunteers were angels. I proposed marriage to at least two volunteers who gave me cookies and popsicles.
Overall, happy boy.
Peace.

Update on Berryman

Finished Berryman in 12 hours...my experience was enhanced by wearing some low-cut socks that made for a really neat 2nd loop, I'll get the report out in a few days.

Waiting on "GO!"

Perfect taper week, for once!

I am usually a bit stressed the week before a run. I have figured out that the aches/pains everyone normally shakes off during training are given increased attention during taper time. Stuff that seems like no big deal any other day of the year (work, allergies, whatever) is magnified, at least for me, just before the run. Mostly because I'm not running as much, so I have time to think "The mail is late today...I wonder if that will effect my 50 mile time on Saturday?"

But just this once, it has been awesome! Life has slowed down to a crawl, and even though I'm on the weather channel website every five minutes to get the forecast (rain, rain, rain), I have been unsuccessful in stressing myself out. Confidence may be a bit of it. When I was asked to pace for Western States, my runner had no evidence that I could actually run for forty miles. For WESTERN STATES? ME? That's like putting everything you own on a donkey to win the Kentucky Derby!

But now I know I can. I know, I know... I will respect the distance. And I will demand respect from the distance as well. Just say "GO!"