I run with chaos and other old acquaintances through the trees. The dark start and too many distractions carry me out without my good sense, or my water bottle. Minus the extra water weight, I’m feeling light for a 192 pound carcass. Not that the leaves and roots underfoot don’t whine as I dance lightly across them. The cold winter sting on my face & legs feels good. As comfortable and easy as this feels, I know I’m going faster than is good for me this early. My third time at the ‘Coon, I expect the same 3:30 for each of the first three loops. Fast or slow, hot or cold, plans or none, my body clock & timing-chain follow their own plan. The fourth loop’s where things tend to change. Just as it gets dark, the clock unwinds, timing jumps track. The grunt work begins then. My initial goal: finish loop three feeling good. Enjoying the cool darkness, I try not to think.

Crossing a road, we descend and pick up speed on a narrow singletrack and search for firm footing in the dark. All routes work ‘til we find the mud, then none of them. Cool mud coats my legs, while tightly packed trees rub my elbows. The path twists about, crossing a short bridge and turning left onto a jeep road. The first station’s at road’s end in a mile, then back to this same spot. Quite a few shallow dips & rises, but nothing larger exists in this park. With my energy peaked, attempting to walk these ever-so-gentle hills is difficult. Connecting with a fellow from Durango, I inform him, ‘these are the BIGGEST hills on this course’. Enlightened, Marc pulls up and walks with me. It’s a gorgeous morning: 40s, slight breeze, and no rain.

Dawn provides just enough gray light to see everybody file past, while the light and shadows plays in the dirt and dances on our faces. Many I know parade by, yelling and making odd noises. Hard to believe most of us are well-educated and socially acceptable, with the way we cuss, pass gas, and piss right in front of each other. These are my friends, my family, my buddies.

A short steep descent leads us past where we entered this road. Slowing to a crawl in a sand pit, we spin through and exit the right side. Another narrow tree covered singletrack, and already I feel so much better. Better vibes lead to faster feet. Everything’s hummin’ pretty good, so Marc & I go faster. Providing a wonderfully soft ride, pine needles and bright leaves cover the trail, but hide the roots worn smooth by thousands of feet. Marc’s girlfriend runs by and he stops for a kiss, coming back stronger with stolen energy and panache. He plans on a 4:00 loop, but I know we’re doing 3:30 and tell him. Feeling right and having fun, it’s hard to slow down.

The jeep road connecting park boundary to dam is my reference for the six-mile out-&-back. Semi-coherent and capable of understanding large arrow signs, I turn right onto another road, and right again. Wes & Gina’s 2-3 station and campfire are a quarter-mile ahead, where road turns to trail. Stopping for ice-tea and Ensure, I leave my second shirt, gloves, and flashlight, and remember to pick up my spare water bottle.

Dropping to a sandy bottom and crossing the only wooden bridge in the park with side rails, we walk slowly uphill. Fenceline for miles leads to the turnaround on rolling singletrack. Having way too much fun, we splash through mud bogs, duck falldowns, and jump hurdles, while I pinpoint my pals on this long out-&-back. The turnaround is at the bottom of a short descent 30-minutes from the previous station.

I reacquaint with trail buddies while Marc collects fresh kisses. In quantity versus quality, Marc’s winning. Through the station and back towards the dam, we lean off road onto an afterthought of a trail. Hopping logs and dodging saplings, then back on road to the dam. Detour offroad left onto a deep pack of pine needles through a very serene part of the woods. Crossing two short bridges and back up the creek, ending with a short climb onto the levee. Directly across Lake Raven is the finish, a few hundred yards as the crocodile swims, six miles as the snail crawls.

Rolling hills lead to short root infested descents with long boardwalks at the bottom. Crossing swamps on these solid crooked plank walkways are entertaining during the day, and quite stimulating after dark. Rotating between boardwalks, mud bogs, and rolling hills, the singletrack hugs shoreline for miles to the final station. The last 3-miles have numerous tight little switchbacks, more mud bogs, and more descents through root mazes. Anything but flat or strait, the last wide and winding mile takes us home for the conclusion of round one at exactly 3:30!

My water bottle waits right where I left it. A basket of fat delicious blackberries wait also, in the cooler along with ice-tea and Ensure. I switch to short sleeves and grab a fistful of the nastiest, can’t eat just one, girl scout cookies. A gorgeous morning has turned into the perfect day. Marc and I run out the same mile we come in, beginning loop two. Crossing the road, we squeeze to singletrack and play pinball with the trees. Twisting my torso to avoid contact, my feet seek safe harbor between ruts, roots, and mud. Sure do like this section. Always get a buzz on here, electricity making my bod go faster. Soon as my feet find the jeep road, the buzz dies, and it feels like work again. Gliding across the ground, I rub the roots smooth and nudge the rocks off the trail. Must be magic because I rarely fall. This continues until dark with no trippage whatsoever. After dark, this all changes, and my mojo leaves me. Roots inch up and grab my toes while rocks quit moving out of the way.

About to leave the 2-3 station, I see Max & David coming and wait. Old friends, the three of us have run together many times before. The strait and narrow trail leading out rolls a bunch, the trees squeezing in cozy and tight as our gang of four gets rolling. I bomb downhill, David’s strong going up, and Max pushes when either of us relaxes the pace. Out & back through the station and down the trail I take lead and pull. Singletrack offers enough entertainment to keep me smiling all the way back home. Passing through another station, we slow for the turn. then sprint the final three miles to the conclusion of loop two. 3:30 again and feeling good.

Laughing and tossing jokes, all escape quickly. Comfortable with each others peculiarities, we each adjust to the other, finding some sort of rhythm in this wild dance that we do. We cruise the jeep road and walk the sand pit at the bottom. Back on trail, we pick it up and stick it through to the next jeep road. Struggling a bit, Marc slips to rear. The out-&-back is slower this time, so it must be approaching that time in a run when things quit working so well. All of us are slowing. We charge round the lake for the third time with Marc surging and sinking before he falls off for good. Then there were three in 3:45.

Water & feeding includes ice tea, Ensure, blackberries, and a sandwich. I change into long tights, two long-sleeve shirts, and gloves. Max and David change as well. We giddy-up and out, but the night hasn’t cooled yet and I’m generating a load of heat. Sweating like a pig, I’m way over dressed and feeling foolish. I remove my gloves, peel one shirt off, and roll the sleeves on the other. Max does the same, but David already has it right. The sun sinks quickly but it doesn’t cool much and I’m comfortable now. Enjoying the look & feel of things in the moonlight, we run without lights as long as possible. Shadows overlap one another in the dirt as we dance through them.

The fourth loop is key. Everything changes at night: clothes, gear, lights, and such. Temps drop down and muscles tighten up. When colors turn to shades of gray, I lose depth perception and begin to trip. Each trip tightens my muscles. The more I tighten, the more I trip. It’s an ugly endless downward spiral. Max takes lead and surging, pulls us with him. Dave and I try to hold on. Nobody’s talking and saying nothing real loud. What’s up with Max? I stop at 2-3 for an Ensure recharge and drop off my extra shirt. I wouldn’t be moving this fast if not for Max, and haven’t decided yet if I’m grateful or not. I’m working my buns off. I can drop off anytime I want, but I like the thought of getting done sooner, so I hang on. Silently, Max drags us out-&-back. Somebody comes up on us just after the turn, moving faster on the uphills, but falling off on descents. We yo-yo back & forth for miles, and because I’m the caboose, he gets right on my butt. I’d move over, but then we’re going to pass him on the next downhill. We pick it up just a little to avoid this. All four of us roll into 2-3 together where I realize it’s Blake Wood, a full lap in front of us and leading the race.

I keep thinking he’s gonna slow, but he doesn’t. Max continues his charge. In awe of his energy, we steal as much as we can while he drags us in his wake. What is it? How can he keep going like this? Darkness hides everything except the ground our lights touch and the night sounds. An occasional grunt escapes when a foot meets an immovable object. The long swamp crossing boardwalks are loud at night. The sounds of life drowns out everything else. Through the last station, with less than two miles to go, it finally happens. I think he’s adjusting to the terrain but it’s not so. Max slows to a crawl, near empty. For the first time on this loop, I move to lead while Max tucks in. Loop four ends in 4:25. Seemed faster and would have been much slower if not for Max.

Wanting to get out on the last loop quickly, I stop for Ensure and batteries only. Dave and I walk out slowly, waiting for Max. But, the cold winter night creeps in and forces us to run just to stay warm. Almost to the jeep road, Max suddenly blasts past us and keeps going. We try to catch him, but there’s no way! We’ll trash ourselves trying so we back off, and then I decide to go after him. I pick it up and start sprinting. After eighty miles, I’m running way too hard, and feeling every bit of it. Amazing and insane- this mad dash! It’s all mental and Max is really working us. As fast as he’s going, I catch him, and run with him into the station, with Dave one step behind. 32-degrees and the sweat is pouring off my face and back. A chill ripples through my body. I immediately start running out of there. Hypothermia, a short trip away, I need to keep moving. The others follow soon after.

We leave much slower, down the jeep road for the last time. Dave takes lead, pulling us behind him. I’m shot, dusted, wasted, and I wonder if Max is gonna go again. He’s on and off with amazing extremes today, and wouldn’t surprise me whatever he did. Dave’s in command for the time, holding pace, and keeping us rolling. Thus we remain to the 2-3 station and through to the last long out-&-back. We reach the final turnaround and start back, when Dave suddenly goes down in pain. He tries to run but can’t. He’ll have to walk it in. I feel for him, but I need to go. I take off, but Max hangs back to walk with him into the next station.

Being completely alone feels strange at first, then I get the buzz on again and start to go faster, passing 2-3 for the last time. To the dam, round the short loop, onto the levee, and back to the final long trail section in a blur. The wheels are spinning good and then... my nose is buried in the leaves. What happened? My foot’s throbbing. I wait for the pain to subside before I get up. Back on my horse, I start spinning again. Feels good to see the long boardwalks again. Every little landmark feels good right now. I know I’m not gonna see any of it again. Last round and I’m smellin’ the barn. I’m doing better staying upright, skimming swamps, bogs, and hazards all the way back to the last station before the end.

I start pushing even harder, uphills, downhills, underhills, through the hills, between the hills until I get completely worn out and have to walk. I’m getting excited about being done, but I’m not done, and getting way ahead of myself. I start running again, trying to manage my emotions a little better. I take it in easy, checking off each tree, bush, and bridge. Then I hit the final out-&-back trail and cut loose, flying low with lights off and brain dead. Coming in for the final landing, I hit the road and sprint all out to the finish.

joe prusaitis