Congrats, Bob. I'm sure you will look lovely with scarf draped artfully around that fine, thin neck of yours. Just kidding. I would imagine your wife will LOVE it!
My feet hurt but there have been at least three times in the past when they hurt worse. My legs were okay, still obedient when I asked them to run. I never really bonked bad. On good ground, I made decent progress. Problem was, there wasn't much decent ground. The thought of being out there on the trail at snail's pace for sixteen or seventeen hours was revolting, especially knowing the others would likely be in their tents by the time I got through. And, to do this again and again for the next nine days? Well, It's hard to say "I'm done." But I did. I suppose I could start from the beginning, telling you all about every last detail of my short-lived adventure. (And I will. Only later.) But I am compelled to speak first of the decision day. Day five. The day I said those three (two if you count the contraction) fatal, final words. The fifth day of the Tour de Virginia, the 568-mile brainchild of phenom ultrarunner Eric Grossman, started early, but not as ...
Over the years, I have enjoyed home parties. You know the kind: a bunch of women gather, a representative lays out her wares (everything from kitchen tools to jewelery, to makeup and skin care products that promise a glowing, beautiful face), and the attendees pick, choose, and fill out order forms. I've been both a rep and a hostess. Back in the late 70's I made sewed crafty items and held my own little in-home selling parties. Years later, I sold for The Pampered Chef (TM) since I loved the products. But alas, I gave up because I didn't feel right about asking already financially-strapped folks to buy what they could probably live without. Yeah. I'm not much of a saleswoman. Borrowed from www.mytradesofhope.com/tamarawalston But every one in a while, a business idea comes along that grabs my attention. I found that in 'Trades of Hope.' Until about a month or two ago, I had never heard of this group. But then I came across a friend's post, Tamara Wal...
I heard the sound switch from the scuffle of gravel to the crunch of leaves. My confused mind sent a signal to open my eyes. Good thing. My mindless weaving had nearly cost me a trip down the steep embankment. But in some curious way, it wouldn’t have mattered. Once I landed I could have dozed. Sweet contentment even if it was near single digit temperatures. Sleep running is not a new phenomenon to me. In fact, I find myself in that mode quite often. Eat. Drink. Talk out loud. Sing. Falalalala. Take a caffeine tab. I do all the right things but sometimes it is miles before I wake up. When I do, all is well. But when my mind is hazy and my body fighting forward motion, it is, well. . . hell. This was my seventh Hellgate 100K. I miserably failed one year but was attempting to complete my sixth wicked race. After a year of heavy-duty volunteering at the other five Beast series races, I could not resist the call of this course. There really is no explaining it. It is cold, dark, wet, s...
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