At 90 mph, I cut through the fog banks pretty quick. I left Austin at 3am and expect to touch down in Huntsville at 5:30am. With little to no traffic, I’m flying with the radio turned up, and rockin’ all the way. Thankfully, the flight is pretty uneventful, and I land at 5:40am. I park, pick up my number, change quickly, and sprint back to the start line by 5:58am, with plenty of time to spare. I just hate to waste time like this. Fortunately, I miss Mickey’s pre-race talk.

We start right on time at 6:00am, and are quickly onto the trail and into the dark. We’re under the trees and it’s pitch dark, so flashlights are essential. Those few who are running without a light are tripping all over themselves. I can only see the spot directly in front of me where my light illuminates the trail, and the tiny bouncing spots of light around me. There are a few others just in front and behind, but I can’t make out face or form, only voices. I don’t recognize any, so I run silently. I don’t have a clue what the course is, where the aid stations are, or how many. I trust Mickey to put enough out, and at good enough locations, such that I can run with only one water bottle. Sure hope my faith is warranted and I haven’t just screwed up. I hear another runner thud into the ground, but no groans, only cussing! That was the third one I’ve heard. I’ve been lucky so far. We exit the trees into a small clearing and turn left onto a jeep road that I recognize. I’m with a pack of 8 to 10 runners. Hard to tell exactly in this darkness, but there’s no one close behind or in front of our pack. I don’t see any lights either way. Sure hope we’re not lost already. We have more room on the jeep road and our pack spreads out quickly. I see gaps in the lights opening up between all the runners in front of me. Some of the faster guys must have been trapped between us on the trail, because they’re really moving now. I stay on the backside of this group and run side by side with Mark, swapping lies all the way up the jeep road. It’s a long out and back, and I know we’re coming back this way, but don’t know how far or where the turn around is. It’s a few miles and I lose track of time.

There’s bright light ahead! The aid station and turn around point. As I’m coming in, I count the runners going back the other way, and realize that I’m with the lead pack. Yow! Way too fast. I can’t tell how fast I’m going, because there are no mile markers and I don’t know the course. But, I do know I don’t belong with these guys. Not me! I refill my water bottle, take two salt caps, and turn around. I pull up next to Mark again and we both slow down. At least, I think I slow down. I can’t tell in this dark. I can’t see the hills and don’t even know when I’m on one. This is Texas after all, and the hills aren’t much anyway, but I just can’t tell whether I’m going up, down, or level. I’m probably still flying from the drive and last minute rush to get ready for the start.

Mark and I are tooling along, approaching the turn off of the jeep road, when my light suddenly dims and disappears. What? These are brand new batteries! And, we’re about to be back in the dense woods again on single-track trail again. This is going to be tough. There’s nobody close behind us, and if I fall off or just plain fall, I may have to wait awhile. I tell Mark he’s stuck with me now, just as we enter the woods again. Mark leads with his light, with me following closely. Two runners surprise me suddenly when they join us from behind. They click into our pace as we roll along the trail under the trees. “You from Austin?” the guy behinds me asks. It’s Eddie, an old running buddy, and he recognized my voice. We catch up on who, what, where, and when, while we dance along the trail at a pace that is insane for me. Eddie and Roger are pushing us and we’re letting them. What am I doing? I should just get the heck out of the way, but the thought never enters my mind, if I’m thinking at all. ‘No light, no brain, no choice’, is the feeble mental work that’s occurring between my ears. I hang with the gang, dance with the chance, and hope not to crash and burn like a little dog in a big fight. A thought slips in, ‘It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog’. High hopes will only take me so far, I know. A little gray begins to invade the dark. The sun is finally coming up and I’m gonna be saved. Yahoo! The gray gets brighter and I can now make out the guys I’m running with. I see what Mark looks like and recognize Eddie also. Who the heck is Roger? I play word association to remember names and the word Rabbit comes to mind for both Eddie and Roger. It works for awhile, until I start to call Roger, “Peter”! We’re on the backside jeep road along the perimeter fenceline, and rolling into the second aid station when my need for a flashlight is finally gone. As blind as I was, I’m very lucky not to have fallen or twisted an ankle. I give my dead flashlight to the station volunteer, and refill my water. I have no idea my reference point in the run and ask nobody in particular. I get the appropriate answer from Roger, “We’re in the woods!” Eddie’s fast, and I question my sanity out loud about running with him. He informs me that Roger’s much faster than he is and he questions his sanity running with him. So, we’ve established that we’re all insane, as Roger pushes into the lead, and Eddie hangs on. Like a complete fool, I jump on and go with them, while Mark quickly falls off and disappears behind us. What am I doing, I keep asking myself? I feel great, and this feels great, but I know the second loop will fix me for this initial pace. The brain’s not working, but I keep on truckin’. For a long stretch, we don’t know if we’re lost or not, because there’s no markings whatsoever. We talk about the lack of directions, but continue as is, hoping eventually to find a trail split. We know that a sign would be at an intersection if we’re on the right trail. We pass two runners just before coming to the swamp and the bridges over them, when we finally see some trail markings. Nothing changes in our pace, and we continue as is, but I’m a bit relieved to know we’re running the correct route. We roll into another station, and I finally find a reference point. We are 3 miles from the end of the first loop. There’s a short out and back to this station, about 50 yards, and we see the two runners we had passed. They both said something about getting stung by bees. Ouch! Sure glad we missed that!

Neither, Eddie or Roger are carrying water, so they stop for water, while I just turn around and start walking back up the hill. By the time I reach the top, they’re back with me and we begin anew the same pace we’ve been doing all along. We carry on into the end of the loop, passing two more people near the end. Roger disappears into a portolet, Eddie heads back out, and I stop for a breather. I want to get rid of those guys and slow down, so I refill my water, take a few salt tabs, and eat a few slices of orange. I’m soaking wet from the humidity and sweat. I remove my wet smelly bandana and pick up a clean one from my drop bag, put it on my head, and head back out for my second and last loop. The first 15-mile loop time was 2:12. Way too fast for me.

I go out much slower this time, by myself and very comfortable. On the jeep trail, I connect with Brett, the guy who had been stung by the bees. We talk as we roll up the jeep road and stay together to the turn around and part way back. He’s moving slower than I am, but he’s also running more of the hills than I am. I’m walking all the hills now that I can see them, and he slowly pulls away. I just about catch up to him on each downhill or flat, but then a hill reverses my progress. I let him go. He probably has no idea I’m yo-yoing right behind him. As soon as he’s out of sight, I realize that the lead woman is doing the same thing behind me. She’s running slower than me, but not walking much either, so she gets close on the uphills and then I quickly put some distance between us on the downhills. I really don’t care, but I can’t help but notice. At the next station, on the park perimeter road, Lynn finally catches up to me. I’m just finishing a coke and leaving the station. She tells me she doesn’t understand why she can’t catch me, when every time she sees me, I’m walking. But, she does catch me, and then she passes me. A few miles later, I find her on the side of the trail massaging her leg. “Cramps”, she says. ‘Never had them this bad!’ She doesn’t have any water, so I offer her some, but she says, ‘No, thanks’. I continue again, with her right behind me for a short ways. I know there’s a long downhill coming up and I’m going to start running again, so I insist she drink some of my water. This time, she does. I wish her luck and begin to go, when she says, ‘I’m going to drop at the next station’. With only three miles to go, I wonder if she will.

I’m crossing the long boardwalk across the swamp, when Jay Norman comes storming along like a man on a mission. I stop and turn to see who it is and recognize him through the trees well before he gets to me. You really got it going, Jay! ‘Come on, Joe!’, he says. ‘I can smell the barn’. I try to pick it up and go with him, but I can’t quite get the rhythm. It’s my first dance and I’ve got two left feet. I stay with him for a short piece, and then he slows to walk a hill and we talk for a few minutes. Then he picks it right up again, and starts anew. He’s about a hundred yards and pulling away, when he suddenly stops and begins to yell. By the time I get to him, he has a large snake on the end of a stick. He picks the snake up and tosses it and the stick off the trail in the direction of the lake. Well, he’s allowed me to catch up to him again, and we continue together. Within minutes, we pass a man with a boy who’s crying and he warns us there’s a swarm of bees just ahead. We see them as we approach, and there’s no easy way around them, so we pick it up and sprint right through the swarm. Jay gets stung immediately and I think I’m lucky again, when I feel a sharp sting on my hamstring, and then, a few more on my other ham. Damn! We’re both smacking ourselves all over the place with our hands, as we run, like a couple of crazy men. I’d love to see video of that! We don’t slow until we reach the hill just before the next aid station. I start to walk while jay keeps going. Lynn must have dropped because the new lead woman comes by me as I approach the station. I ask how she fared with the bees, but she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Amazing! She had to go right through them, and wasn’t even aware of their existence. Jay humps on out of there, while I pick up two cokes and walk up the hill slowly, drinking.

Just 3 miles to go, but I got no oomph left, so I just sort of saunter along. I walk the uphills and pick up speed on all the remaining downhills. The day has warmed up a bit and I’m starting to get pretty hot. Sure am glad I’m almost done. I continue on as best as I can, and start to pass large groups of kids on the trail. Church groups or scouts out for a hike, I suppose. Not sure which, but they all seem to be curious about what’s going on. After all, we’re all quite muddy from the sweat and dirt. Some are bleeding and some have welts from bee stings. A few are walking, running, or limping awkwardly. And I know I smell real bad. Can’t imagine how we appear to these kids, but they stay out of my way. Coming up to the end, it’s flat for the last half-mile, so I manage a weak final run and a mad dash into the finish area. My second loop is 2:36 for a final of 4:48. So, my second loop was 24 minutes slower than my first loop. Not bad, considering all the walking I did on the hills the second time around. I must have been running well when I did. Regardless, it was a good run and Mickey did a great job with the race.

I clean myself up and wait for my buds from Austin to come in. Both Chuck and Chris come in soon after, and quite a few other folks that I know also. Some, I didn’t even know where here, due to my late arrival and insane start. I stay around to cheer them on, until Mickey holds his impromptu awards ceremony next to his pickup truck, which is parked next to the finish line. Soon after, I’m doing 90 mph again, on my way back to Austin. What a trip! Next time, I’m flying!