The entire stream of runners poured into the skinny single track. Too dark between the trees to see much of anything including who was immediatly in front of me. My headlamp revealed precious little. People started talking, those near enough to hear. I responded to nobody in particular, just small talk, brain droppings. I recognized Pete's voice in front of me. It made me realize that we where all trapped in the pace of the guy in front. Who ever he was, ths was his pace. It was too fast for me and too slow for Pete. No big deal really. I knew already that this is what it would remain for the first 3 miles. It would take about that long for the sun to wake up and also to reach the split. 50mi and 50km runners all started together, and the 50km would peel off at the 3 mile station while the 50 mile runners continued left. I had no idea if I was going the corerct direction. All I could see was the small spot in front of my feet and the dark shape of Pete and others in front. I hoped the lead guy knew where he was going and voiced the thought out loud. I got a few ascenting statements and one that confirmed that he knew the way. I hate following anyone blindly, but that is exactly what I was doing. Blind faith and ignornace leads this poor lost soul down a path of some one else's design. I dont like the feeling.

It is too warm already. Sweat begins to slide down my brow. I check my bandana and find it already wet. The light on my head does me little good in this long tightly packed paceline. Soembody moves over and allows Pete & me to pass, along with another dozen. The sky lightens up enough to render the headlamp even more worthless. Nearly blind for seconds and then more light slowly makes the terrain readable and even more runnable. We reach the 3 mile aid station and quite a few peel off to the right. Pete speeds up only to climb into a port-o-jon, leaving me temporarily in front of our little gang. Fortunatly, the trail also widens up a tad, so that the fast guys behind can push easily past. Pete is soon back and then past me.

Actually, I don't feel very good. I back off the pace and watch one after another slide by. This canyon is breathtaking, so I allow myself the time to enjoy the view. The trail is worn down pretty smooth, almost to a fine powder at places. Some of it is rock, but not loose. More of a solid rock foundation worn down flat and smooth. The wind intermittantly breathes its cool breath, providing some reprieve from the heat. At times, it feels good. Other times, it lifts the dirt from the rock and dusts us.

I reach the 6 mile station comfortably. A short little out and back runs out and comes directly back to the same place in a matter of minutes. Jay, Henry, Roger, and Mike all seem to be right there with me. The trail leading from here to the 9 mile station seems to be the hilliest section. It rolls about in and out of the canyon and up near the walls. By far, the prettiest part of the course, it is also the most rugged. Still, the trail is worn smooth by endless foot & bike traffic. Short steep little climbs seem to swrap completely around some formations climbing up and then dropping back again.

Jay catches me and seems concerned about cathing and passing me. I remind him that this is his race, and he should not concern himself with who he passes. It just might be your day and maybe its not mine. Regardless, if it works, ride it. If it fails, back off. He goes on bye, looking pretty comfortable. I'd bet that this will be mor ehis race than mine today. I don't feel very well. I could a pretty good whine list about now. I am glad that I'm running alone.

A wind mill sitting atop a ledge, directly behidn a concrete water tank captures my attention. Sure seems a pretty setting. The trail drops down behind it and immediately into the next station at mile 9. Two people wait on me while I sit and relax. I turn down the road leading out and back along a fast moving muddy creek. The trail hops around a few mud bogs but mostly it hols a flat strait line for the distance to the next station, which is only 1 mile further along. It's the same station we hit at mile 3, wehre the 50km runners turned back. I stop for a moment and then turn left. 50 yards to the road and then across. Only 2.5 miles to the end of the loop. Its a fairly easy trail, that twists amoungst the campsites. A few muddy areas and one overlook, before passing the Toad Suck Bog. I thought it said Toad Suck Dog for a long time and each time I see the sign, I tend to dwell on "WHY?" Soon after the Toad Suck I come back into the are where we started. We twist all around the area, before finally coming in to end loop one.

Damn but I feel bad. I sit down amongst our horde of friends and try to eat some food, drink a bit of cold Gatorade, and chaneg my smelly socks. My feet hurt, my bones ache, but mostly, my back is aching in a way i have not experienced before. Everything internal seems to be coming unsprung. I need to find the spring and reconnect before I collapse in the dirt.

Getting up and heading back out was never a question, never is. Its automatic. But you would think that I should give it some thought. There are times, when the bod feels really bad, but I know that it will revive and com eback to life. And I expect it to happen again. So I drag my sorry butt down the trail and try desperatly to hold my head up. One after another, runners go by me. They seem to be just strolling, while I feel like I'm super slow mode. This will change. It has to change. Minutes drag through an hour and finally, I arrive at the first aid station: the one with the shower. I climb on to the planks and turn the shower on, soaking my entire body for minutes. Oh but does this feel good. I climb off and walk a few feet to the table for something: anything, then sit down on a bench and start puking. All I can think about is the loss of calories. An empty belly in my already depleted state wont help matters much. I start to eat again. At least I try to eat, but I am so weak and stupid by this point, that i am lucky to get down a single pretzel.

The deamons have climbed on by now and are having a big ol time with me. I ignore em, but it doesn't mean I don't hear em. A few of our crew are there to witness the misery and to cheer me on. I am sorry to say that I could not respond. I simply walked out onto the next section, once again in super slow mode. Fred Thompson comes by and attempts to pick me up. And I try to accomodate by matching stride with him for a 100 yards or so. It becomes apparent quickly that I'm working way to hard to simply walk faster. I fall off and watch as he walks away, seemingly with little effort.

The sun continues to beat down on me. Some tourists are out now: they glance at me as they walk past. Surreal comes to mind. Everything seems so strange. I really should not be out here. But I am so tuned to just keep going. I actually catch another guy who seems to be in an equally distresses state. We pass each other a few times, tortoise to tortoise, and had we the energy, I am sure we would have had a lot to say to each other, but we said very little. Crawling into the next aid station, I sit down and once again, empty my stomach, what little there is left in it. I drink some water as much to clean my throat as to get some fluid in me, and begin to dry heave. My stomach reflexes are working better than all of the rest if me. Funnt that seems so funny to me right now. I start to laugh and I suspect that the two sweet aid station ladies must think I've flipped.

Stephanie comes in, paced by Larry, looking determined. I get up and start out, with Stephanie trying to get me to run with her. But i got nothing left, and beg off. She wants a finish real bad and she don't need this anchor. She does the short loop quickly and is gone long before I get it done. I make the same short loop, but slower, and get back at the same aid station, and then move on towards the next one. But nothing has changed. I am still struggling mightily. As i near the next aid station a mountain biker stops to tell me I have some friends waiting for me. And they try to get me kick started again by running cold water over my head from a garden hose. It feels so good, but as soon as I eat, I start puking again. It does not seem like I am here very long, but I am sure it is longer than I think it is. They have to leave to get back to the finish and I get up also to attempt finishing.

They tell me how long I have to finish but it means nothing to me. I cannot string together two words and certanly can't do any simple math. I just keep going. I see a few tourists walking along the trail but I am the last of the runners on course. On and on and on it seems to go. I know its not that far but I just can't seem to get where I'm going. One more aid station. Eventually, I do drag in and sit down. They are cleaning up. Their day is done and now that I have arrived, they can leave. The sun is dropping, otherwise I'd take another shower. Once teh sun drops, the temperature will quickly drop and I'm liable to fall into a hypo thermic state. Soaking with with sweat, I start out, and they ask me if I need a ride. No, I'll walk on in, I tell them. Minutes later, I have not even covered the 50 yards to the road crossing. The sun is dropping and I dont have a light. I have been dumb enough to keep going when I had nothing left, but the thought of getting turned around and lost in this state with no light, no sense, and soaking wet from sweat... finally starts to sink in. The cutoff is 12 hours, and they just told me I had 15 minutes to make the last 2 miles. It seesm so easy, but I know it's not. Had I a light, I could go on. had I a jacket, I should go on. The excuses start to climb on and the demons are winning this time. I turn around and walk back to the ladies cleaning up the station. I ask if they can still give me a ride,a nd they are happy to accomodate. They are done and ready to go. They tuck me into their car and drive me the remaining short loop back to the finish.

Just 2 miles from done. 48 miles of a 50 mile race, I have stopped of my own accord. Quit! Dropped! Did Not Finish! Damn, but its hard to feel good about any part of this. Its just another race. One like a hundred others I have done, but ths is now, and its hard to get on top of it. Hell, I suppose I'd be whacked out regardless of what I did. It is over. I can sit and heal and recover. Now I just need to get out of here and purge the funk that crawled up in me. Mostly it was the heat, but regardless, its just an excuse.

on to the next one...