Behold! The power of the internet!

For the last two months, my internet has been unreliable at best. It hampered my blogging abilities and frustrated me on countless occasions. But the problem has been remedied and now you can all read about the last 6 races that I've run! Hooray!

Half marathon number 46 was the Park City half. Having sworn an oath never to run the full marathon in Park City again (and there was lots of actual swearing, the curse word kind), the half seemed like a nice option. I should have known that it would be a hilly beast anyway. That's all Park City knows how to do. I still had a nice race, and the shirt and medal were much better this year than when I ran the full.

I was going to beat that guy, so help me.

Very pretty medal.

Then there was the Top of Utah half marathon, half number 47. I was worried about the weather for this race, as the rain had been coming down in buckets the night before. It was a chilly, damp morning up the canyon, but the rain held off while the temperature remained nice and cool. I always run better when it's cool outside. I finished feeling really strong. Most of my races lately have been better the second half than the first. This bodes well for my future ultra aspirations.

I never look like I'm moving all that fast, but I was moving right along.

Moose swag is the best swag.

Half number 48 was the Murdock Half, along the new-ish Murdock Canal trail. It was a very small race, so I knew that I would be one of the last people across the line. And I was,but not the very last. I managed to beat 2 other people. But all of us finished in under 3 hours and we were all quite pleased with ourselves.

The shirt is cozy. I like cozy.

Half number 49 followed on Labor Day, with just one day of rest between half 48 and 49, I wasn't expecting a fantastic performance. This race had less than 30 people. I was by far the heaviest person there, and the course was straight up a mountain and then back down. But you know what? I wasn't last in this race either. Again, I beat two other people. And I finished in a much better time than I thought I would. I pushed hard on the uphill and flew back down. It turned out to be a nicer race than I had expected.

I have yet to see this "monster" they speak of.

The ever important watch stopping picture.

All of this jam packed racing was leading up to my 50th half marathon, the Nebo Half. I plotted and planned to have this one be my 50th, because it had been my very first. It's one of my favorite races. The course is gorgeous, the medals are stunning, and it's always been perfect on race day. This race was no exception. I finished in a very good time, only 4 minutes off my all time best. I had a nice support group with friends and family both running and waiting at the finish line. We had a little tail gate party afterwards to celebrate. The day was everything that I had hoped for.

Whee! Happy with this day/race/everything!

My friend Melissa, smashed her previous best time by nearly an hour! 

Hanging out with our trainer after, basking in the glory.

I'm sad this picture didn't turn out better...

All of these glorious half marathons were leading up to my last big race of the year, the Big Cottonwood Marathon. And when it came to the week of the race, I plain just didn't want to do it. I kept threatening to drop down to the half. I don't know why I had such a bad attitude towards this race. I really liked it last year. My training was just fine. I hadn't bombed any of my long runs, I was feeling healthy and fine. I just didn't want to run that far.

My friend Jamie and her husband were both running this race, and she had threatened me with a stern face that I needed to suck it up and run the full marathon. I'm glad I did. It turned into my best marathon experience ever. Like of all time, ever. There were so many Marathon Maniacs there one in particular really helped me through the last 10 miles. Cody became my marathon friend and it made all the difference. I don't really get to run with people much, since our paces are all so different. But Cody and I had the same pace and the same philosophy towards the race.

Feeling fine on one of our agreed upon walk breaks.

The last 10 miles went so well, I ended up beating my previous best time by 13 minutes. That's huge. I had no idea I was capable of a finish like that while still being able to walk the next day. I felt so good for the entire day even. I guess all that training really is paying off.

Look at my watch! Look at it! The time is amazing!

Wheeeeeeee!!!

PR baby. Yeah.

So there you have it. If I could have blogged more regularly, there would have been much more detail. But pictures are more fun than my rambling. I have all kinds of craziness coming up this month and I'll try to keep up on it all. Until then, happy running!

The craziness continues.

It's that time again! Multiple race report time! You had to know this was coming, as it's been about a month since my last entry. I also need to apologize for the scant amount of pictures. A finicky internet is making uploads unbearable.

It took me a while to recover from the Trail Rail Run. I had developed some gnarly tightness in my right  IT band that really made things awful for a few weeks. It's starting to get with the program again, though, thanks to a knowledgeable massage therapist.

My comeback race after the ultra was the Star Valley Half Marathon in Wyoming. The race takes place in a little town called Thayne. The area is quite lovely; it reminded me of where I had run in Montana just three weeks before. And there was the same promise of maybe seeing a moose. (I did not see a moose, however. The search continues.)

The race started up a nice little canyon and continued into some bucolic farm land. I was actually feeling mostly okay for the first 9 miles and then my leg started to rebel. I decided to switch to a 2:1 run/walk interval and it got me through the last 4 miles without incident. After the race, we drove up to the Tetons. And while the trip was totally worth it, my leg didn't appreciate all the sitting in the car.

Pretending to cross the finish line, after it was missed the first time.

A really nice shirt and medal, and the race was fairly inexpensive. 

The next weekend I ran the Timp Half Marathon. My leg gave me fits from the start of that race. All the driving from the weekend before had tightened my IT band right back up. I have loved this race in the past, but this year, there was an element of panic associated with it. The problem was, the Timp people didn't get the same permits as they have in previous executions of this race. This year they had to impose a strict cutoff of 7:30 a.m. to be out of the canyon, which is just over 7 miles. Now, on a good day, this is no problem. But with my leg restricting my movement the way it was, I was terrified that they were going to end up picking me up with the sweep vehicle. I managed to make it out with time to spare, but it made for an unpleasant amount of worry and stress. I finished with a decent time overall and as usual, the shirt and medal is very nice.

Their medals are always so shiny!

Just this week, I did a charity 5K, the Potter Run. It was a fun little Harry Potter themed run up in Liberty Park. It was nice to get the chance to run there, even though a race at 6 p.m. at the end of July is stupid hot... And it was stupid hot out there, making for a very slow finish time for me. But it was still a nice way to spend a Thursday evening.

A medal for a 5K is always nice. 

I have also finally (finally!) dipped my toes into the dusty/muddy world of single track trail running. There is a trail running series here that goes on up in the Wasatch mountains, where once a week, a race is held on the various trails. That sentence seems awkward, but I really don't know how to change it, so enjoy its awkwardness. Anyway, this trail series is really nice. They offer two course lengths so I can choose the short course and not be the last person out on the trail.

Let me just put this out there. Single track trail running is difficult. Crazy difficult. As in my pace per mile went up 4 minutes difficult. But while it is so challenging, it is also a great experience. I don't like the steep climbs. I walk them with a disgruntled look on my face. But on the flats and the downs, I have a blast! There's a certain level  of decline that I can comfortably cruise down while picking my way over rocks and roots that really stimulates my mind. When it gets too steep on the downs, I start to panic and have to slow down. But when conditions are just right, I've never had so much fun while running. I appreciate this race series for helping me to get out there and get dirty. I have had a lot of trepidation about it, getting lost, getting hurt, etc. etc. But this gives me other people to help if something happens and a set course. I'm feeling better about trying to tackle some trails on my own in the future.

And that's what's been going on. Hopefully, I will be able to blog more entertainingly about my next races. Until then, happy running!

The Long Awaited Ultra Recap

Well, here goes nothing. I have spent the last week trying to figure out how to talk about my first ultra marathon experience. I've felt overly conflicted about the entire thing. I didn't have the experience I was hoping to have, but I learned so much more than I could have ever imagined.

It's been so difficult to process because crossing that finish line was the single greatest thing I have ever accomplished while simultaneously being a crushing, embarrassing failure. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

I felt ready and excited as we packed the car and headed out on our epic trek to Montana. The day was beautiful and cool. A storm had rolled through, bringing with it the promise of cooler temperatures for race day. The drive went smoothly and we had entered Big Sky Country without incident. The western Montana landscape is gorgeous. I knew I had chosen the perfect place to tackle my first ultra.

Pretty darn gorgeous. 

We arrived in Montana on Thursday; I knew I would need all day Friday to recover from the long drive. This was a lesson I learned from the Rock n' Roll Denver back in 2012. Getting in a day early allowed us to rest, relax, and explore the area. We even found a little dirt track that I could do a little shake out run on to loosen up my legs after the drive. The weather was still pleasantly cool when we arrived, and stayed pretty nice through Friday. But of course, it wouldn't stay that way for race day.

Thanks for being there, little dirt track.

I didn't even get nervous when I picked up my packet on Friday. That's usually where the panic starts to set it. But I was just excited and looking forward to the next day's adventure. We had checked out the surrounding areas for a place that had something besides diner food and I was able to have some pasta as my pre-race meal. As much as I dig a big juicy burger and a shake, it's not the best pre-race meal.

My hotel was right next to where the bus would be picking us up, so I was able to just walk over without having to wake anyone up to drive me. I was ready to go sooner than expected, so I was about 10 minutes early for the bus. I wasn't the only one though, and that gave me a chance to get to chat with some of the other runners. I met a very nice man named Jeff who was running this race as his 199th ultra. Sheesh. Everyone (all 17 of them) were  very kind people. Ultra runners are a different breed. It's not like people are mean to me at other races, but this was a different feel all together. They treated everyone there as if we were all friends and had been for some time. There was no air of competition, just camaraderie. Another thing I noticed is that most of the people there were quite a bit older than I was. That helped me feel optimistic about my future as an ultra runner. My best years are still ahead. I've got time. (Those are some of the things that were said to me at the start. And they're right.)

I have to go how far?!

I finally got butterflies in my stomach when they announced that it was 5 minutes to the start time. The reality of what I was about to attempt finally hit me. I still felt ready, however. Silly me.

When the gun went off and we started on our way, there was a marked difference in the pace at this race versus all the other races I have been in. No one took off like a jack rabbit. Everyone was content to cruise along and enjoy the scenery. Within the first three miles, we came to my favorite places on the course. The Dominion Tressel and the railroad tunnel.

Seriously, this was my favorite. 

And running through a cool tunnel, second favorite.

 The weather was staying nice and cool, the trail was shady because of the time of day. I enjoyed it while it lasted because it didn't stay that way for long. The high for the day was supposed to be 86 degrees. And it delivered.

If it would have been like this the whole day, things might have gone a little better for me.

The trail was pretty smooth for the first 13 miles or so. No huge rocks to dodge or obstacles to deal with. So I cruised along really well for that portion. I was still feeling really good about being out there, enjoying the day. But when mile 14 rolled around, the trail conditions changed. For over 2 miles, the trail was covered with what looked like river rocks. Rocks that big are very difficult to run on. So I spent those two miles picking my way through to find the best sections to run on. These conditions continued to pop up later on as well. It was unfortunate. Also, the sun had gotten high enough and the trees had thinned out enough that the sun was starting to be a factor.

That's still a lot of miles...

With the aid stations being about 5-6 miles apart, I wasn't able to get the relief of dumping cold water on my head at regular, life saving intervals, like I do when I get hot in other races. I was carrying water with me in my Camelbak, but it was starting to get warm from the heat too.

At this point, the struggle really started. 

At each of the aid stations, I lingered too long, just trying to cool down. They didn't have any ice that I could put in my water to cool it down. That made me very sad. But the water they had was cool enough that I could drench myself and have some relief from the heat for the next two miles. But that's about as long as it lasted. After each stop and drench, I felt much better and would proceed down the trail at a good clip. But as the miles wore on and the water evaporated, the heat would creep in and sink me. I kept trying to follow intervals of walking and running to keep moving forward, but eventually, the heat would reduce me to a walk without fail.

By the time I reached mile 22 (Only 11 more miles to go! Hooray?) all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be at the finish line. The heat was taking a toll and I was beginning to hallucinate. My brain decided that it wanted to hallucinate a cow. So it did. That was unsettling.

Here are some actual, non-hallucinated cows. This was at mile 32.5 and I was using every excuse to stop and take pictures. 

I could tell I had stopped sweating and I was going to be in big trouble if I didn't get cooled off. I ended up finding a shady spot and just sitting. And drinking. And trying to get a gel to go down. One thing I learned during this race is that I actually want real food. In all my previous races, I haven't wanted to eat real food. Gels and shot blocks have always been fine and the thought of trying to eat something more substantial always made me nauseous. So now I know how to fuel differently during these types of events. Learning is good.

I kept hoping the aid stations would have something to sate my growing hunger. Sadly, I was spoiled when I went to the Umstead 100 and I had unrealistic expectations of aid station fare during an ultra. There was everything and anything you could possibly want at Umstead. Here, there wasn't much choice. I did enjoy the dried apricots and ate copious amounts of them, but what I really wanted was salty, crunchy things. I would have loved to have some potato chips. Or salted potato chunks. A hard boiled egg with salt. I was taking electrolyte tablets, but the salt craving was intense. Another thing I really wanted was some flat soda, like Coke. I felt an intense need for that sugar and caffeine. These are all things I could have carried with me, if I had known how badly I was going to want them. And now I know. Knowing is half the battle. LEARNING.

I could tell by mile 24 that my seven and a half hour time goal (goal A) wasn't going to happen. So I settled for my B goal (sub 8 hour). When it became apparent that was not happening, the C goal filled my brain (8.5 hours, because there was no way in hell I was going to finish in 9 hours. That was unacceptable.) When I had a total breakdown and cried for all of mile 31, the D goal of just finishing was all that was left.

I knew I was the last 50K person out there, the 50 milers had started passing me some time before.

The breakdown at mile 31 was interesting because it followed a strange surge of speed and awesomeness that happened when I hit mile 30. When my Garmin told me I had gone 30 miles, I was filled with overwhelming excitement. It was a milestone I had never hit before in my life. And it just so happened that that mile of the trail was shaded. I took off running and I ran that mile in about 10.5 minutes. Which is a fast mile for me on any regular day; it was a bonafide miracle after having already logged so many miles on my poor legs. And then the breakdown. It was a dizzying high, followed by the soul crushing low. Ah, running. You do know how to toy with my emotions. LEARNING.

By mile 32, I had stopped crying. Now my effort had devolved into a death march. I just kept trudging along, not even bothering to try running anymore. There was nothing left to give. It seemed that everything I had in me had been sucked out by the heat, distance, and time on my swollen feet that for some reason wouldn't just go numb already! People running the 50 miler had been passing me since about 16 miles in. And they continued to pass me in that last mile. But at least many of them were also death marching at this point. We were all miserable, together. That helps, it really does.

32.5 miles. I hurt most everywhere. LEARNING.

I slowly wound my way down the streets of St. Regis. I was to the point where I could see the turn into the park where I would get to stop moving and end my suffering. And yet, I still couldn't run. The death march continued until I rounded the final corner and initiated Zombie Shuffle Mode. ZSM is not much faster than a walk, but it looks a little more like running.

I AM moving. Just very, very slowly.

When I crossed that finish line, I was thrilled. 33.25 miles and I was still alive. But my Garmin also told me that it took me 9:09:48 to manage that distance. And that hurt. It embarrassed me and shamed me, even though no one else was mocking me or shaming me, just good old me, my own worst enemy. Jeff, the 199th ultra guy, was there at the finish line and gave me a hug. Everyone was happy that I made it. My mom was proud of me and took a ton of pictures (thanks, Mom!).

Something I need to remember here. 

As I sat there and tried to process everything that had happened, one of the race officials brought me over an envelope. The envelope contained a certificate for getting third in my age group. That has never happened to me before. There have always been more than 3 people in my age group. And this time, there wasn't. This added to my excitement and my shame. Please enjoy this dialogue excerpt from my brain: "I placed in my age group! Hooray!"  "But you only placed because there were only 3 people in your age group. Boo."  "But a certificate is cool! Hooray! And look at this sweet railroad spike! It means I didn't quit!" "Yeah, you only didn't quit because they'd never find your body out there until it was too late."  It was a tough, confusing day, to put it mildly.

I somehow managed a real smile!

Even though this experience wasn't the one I wanted. I think it was the one I needed. I've not been deterred from the ultra distance. Instead, I have been filled with the desire to take what I have learned and do better next time. Because there is going to be a next time. I am going back next year and I am going to show this distance that I can conquer it in a way that won't confuse and upset me. I'm still sorting through the emotions and disappointment but I'm already stronger for it. There's been a shift in my thinking, a shift in my plans. But this is good. This is exciting. And I'm ready to continue to push forward and out of this comfort zone. Nothing neat happens there anyway.

And this is pretty neat.

In the end, one quote has kept coming back into my mind. I'll leave you with that.

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly... who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly." -Theodore Roosevelt

I dared greatly.

Happy running.

Tri time with the fam

Two weeks ago, my brothers and I competed in our first ever triathlon. Now I know you all are very impressed with this information, since you never see me on a bike or in the pool. It turns our that one can triathlon (I just verbed that noun so hard) without owning a bike or being able to swim. The solution is a triathlon team. And that's what we did. My youngest brother loves biking and my other brother is a decent swimmer so I turned our little motley crew of athletes into a functioning tri team!

It was a perfect day down in Vernal for the Dino Tri. The weather had cooled just a little from the previous weekend, which made me nervous for the open water swim, but we made sure my brother had a wetsuit so that the cold wouldn't be as much of an issue. We also had a bit of a scare when my biking brother thought he would have to be out of town for work the weekend of our event. He managed to work out a win/win compromise with his boss though.

We arrived at the hotel for packet pick up and got our body markings. For those who don't know, in a triathlon, they mark your number, age, and in our case, an R for Relay, on our arms and legs. I still have a faint R on my leg and it's been two weeks. When it says "permanent" marker, it's not playing around. There was a man there giving mowhawks to the guys doing the race. I was unaware that the mowhawk thing was a tradition of this race and hadn't prepared my brothers for this. They both had a bit of a fit and refused to let shaver anywhere near their heads. They weren't the only ones who didn't get the hair style, so it wasn't too big of a deal to refuse.

Now if they could have pulled this off...

After packet pick up, we had to drop the bike off at the start. We ended up driving out on a beautiful road we had never been on before, heading out to Red Fleet Resevoir. The road had some very twisty sections so I knew the bike ride was going to be an adventure. The resevoir itself had sheer rock walls on one side, where lots of swallows had made their home. They were swooping over the water, grabbing up mosquitos in the late afternoon sun. It was a very pretty picture. The water looked calm and peaceful. My brothers, however, did not. My swim brother was staring at the water, wondering just what it was he had done by agreeing to do this while my bike brother had a tiny meltdown over the fact that there were so many super expensive bikes there. Where there are super expensive bikes, there are super competitive cyclists.

You all know the type. Competitive cycle-y types. Like this. 

We spent the rest of the drive back into town trying to build up our confidence for the next day. Everyone was a little high strung about it, me included. I was worried about how my brothers would do, even though I knew they would be just fine. It's one thing to race on your own and another completely to rely on the skills of others. Not that we were out there to win, we just wanted to live through it. We had dinner and went to bed, not that anyone slept all that much. My mother was so nervous about the alarm not being set correctly, that she was up at 4 a.m. to make sure. There were no mishaps and my brothers made it to the shuttle with no problems.

The swim start!

Run! Run to transition!

Now go! Go and bike!

His orange jacket leads the way!

For once, I got to stay in bed a little longer, since I couldn't ride up to the start. I had to meet them at transition 2, which was also the finish line. I got there pretty early, since I wanted to avoid the road closure that would happen later in the morning for the run. I was there early enough to see the first place guy come through. It was fun to be at the transition area and cheer for everyone. My bike brother came through sooner than I expected. He and my swim brother had both done better than they anticipated. We swapped the ankle timer and I took off on the run course. In the excitement, I ran my first mile in 9:58. Oops. That was WAY too fast. It was staring to warm up and I don't do well in the heat. I took a walk break to try and get my heart rate down and then started up again, finishing the second mile somewhere around an 11 min/mile pace. Oops. Still a little fast for me when the sun is beating down. That made my last mile really miserable. My heart rate was too high and I couldn't get my breathing to settle into a rhythm. But I finished with a pretty standard 5K time for me and there was much rejoicing!

I'm floating! Whoooooosh!

We hung around for the awards ceremony, which was nice. I usally finish so slow that I miss them... The race had provided a cooler full of Aggie Ice Cream and we made sure to partake while we waited for the awards. The guy who won the Olympic distance congratulated us when he saw us. My mom told me that he had been very kind to my bike brother at the start, helping to calm his nerves and giving him advice. It made me so happy to hear that. Things like that always restore my faith in humanity all the more. For the most part, endurance athletes seem to be kind and helpful. Sure, there's one or two that can make a bad impression, but mostly, we're nice people.

 My brothers were a little bummed that we didn't place in the team division, but it was our first time. My bike brother did have the second fastest bike time in the relay teams though. He took some comfort in that. We are now looking at doing some more of these in the future. Everyone had a really good time and suprised themselves with what they were able to accomplish. It's always nice to get that kind of confidence boost.

Team T-Rex! 

This last weekend, I ran my 43rd half marathon, the Utah Valley half marathon. The previous two years, I had run the full marathon. But with my ultra coming up this weekend, the full marathon just didn't seem prudent. And I have to say, I loved the half. The temperature had dropped significantly thanks to a cold front sweeping in. And I reveled in every cool, perfect moment of the race. I ran very well and felt great throughout. I didn't set a PR, but it was still a very tidy effort. It was fantastic to get to the finish line and there was still stuff there! Like spectators and chocolate milk and booths with food. When I run the marathon, most of that stuff is gone by the time I cross the line. I enjoyed the half so much, I may never run the full marathon at this race again. Time will tell.

After the race, my mom missed me at the finish.

Swag!

 And now it's almost ultra time. Just a few days and I'll be toeing the line at my first 50K. I feel ready. I was able to get in all my long runs during training, and with how good I felt after the Ogden Marathon, I know I can do this. I am still in the excited stage, which will turn to the terror stage once I get my bib on Friday. And that's okay. The terror stage is all part of the experience. You have to take those feelings in stride so you can enjoy the dizzying high of accomplishing a new feat. I am going to enjoy this, no matter what.

Until next time, happy running!

Bear Lake Monster! Well, sort of...

Yesterday was Memorial Day. And since I didn't have to go to work that day, I thought it would be a fine idea to spend my morning running a half marathon. So I went ahead and signed up for the Bear Lake Monster half marathon. Bear Lake is a gorgeous, natural lake on the northeastern border of Utah and Idaho. It's got some of the bluest water I have ever seen. What a perfect place to run a race, I thought, naively.

Gorgeous! Am I right?

 The race website lead me to believe I would get some really stunning views on this run. And perhaps I would have, if they could have kept the original course. Apparently, the forest service wouldn't allow us to run on a portion of the course that would have enabled us to complete a loop through the foot hills and back down into the minuscule town of St. Charles, Idaho. Instead, the course was altered so that it was two out and back runs on the 10K course. That meant that we had to run up the mountain for 3.1 miles, turn around and run right back down, get almost to the finish line, then turn around and do it all over again. Meh.

Before the start, irritated at the heat and course changes.

 Besides the course change, I really wasn't happy with the start time of the race. 9:00 in the morning, on a day that's predicted to reach 86 degrees, is far too late to start an event that you anticipate will last at least 3 hours. I would have loved a 7:00 a.m. start time. The temperature was an issue throughout the race. It was too warm when we started out and I knew that was going to sink me. By the time I reached the first aid station at mile 1.55, I was already desperately dumping water all over my head.

Me, during the race.

 The worst part was the miscommunication on the course. When I made it to the last aid station, I knew we were supposed to go a little farther up the road to get the proper mileage. The race director even said as much at the start. The folks at the aid station tried to give me my wrist band that showed I had made it to the turnaround and I asked them flat out about the half marathoners needing to go farther. They said no, just turn around now, we get a shorter course. But when I got to the turnaround for the second time, they then told me I had to go farther up the road to the cone, then come back, then go up to the cone and back again. Ugh. It was no fun to go run in tiny circles in the heat of the day on a dusty, shadeless dirt road because they messed up the first time.

Trudging... Uh, I mean, power hiking up the hot dirt road.

 I thought the 3.1 miles was pretty and all, but I got bored with it by my fourth time through. I'm not the biggest fan of out and back courses for the simple fact that I am a slower runner. And all those faster runners fly past me, heading for the finish, and I always feel slightly patronized when they tell me to "keep it up" and "you're doing great" because we all can see that I'm not exactly doing "great". I also hate the "you're almost there" when I'm getting close to the turnaround point. Yes, I am well aware of how far this race is, how long I've been running, and where half way actually is. Thanks though.

That's a PADDLIN'.

 At least there weren't hundreds or thousands of people passing me though. Most of the competitors were high school cross country stars, I knew exactly how it was going to play out. I think there was a grand total of 44 people in this race. I came in second to last, so I only had to put up with comments from 42 people (give or take, not everyone says something).

I swear I was running faster than this looks...

The man who finished last was a fellow Half Fanatic who has completed 8 back to back half marathons in 8 days. He closed down the race in style. As we saw each other out there on the course, knowing what place we both were, we just gave each other a knowing look and a smile. No words were needed. We may be slow, but we never quit and we knock out multiple races every month. We're not as concerned with PR's and course records. We care about moving up in the ranks of the Fanatics, lifetime stats, and enjoying the experience. It's a completely different approach than most people take to racing, but we love it.

We really are crazy.

The ultra countdown is now at less than 4 weeks. I need to pound out one more week of heavy training before the blissful taper weeks start. I was desperately searching for a race to run this weekend to help me log some nice miles but there's nary a one to be found. It looks like I'll be on my own in trying to get one more 20+ mile run in. Oh well. Maybe I'll go buy a shirt and a necklace  or some other medal substitute after, like my own little race reward. I'm sure you'll all be dying to hear how that goes.

Until next time, happy running!