Bed certainly feels like the place to be at 6am on a Saturday with the rain streaming and the wind howling, but it's time for that 17 miler - oh goody!

Actually, the wind howling turns out to be Bill the cat voicing his displeasure at being in prison. The poor old sod is getting on a bit and his internal feeding alarm has taken to going off at somewhere between 4 and 5 am, at which point Sandy gets out of bed, feeds him and then locks him in bathroom B, as his internal time-to-go-out alarm goes off immediately after eating and he will pester us unmercifully otherwise. As we have coyotes, racoons and skunks around, who tend to be out and about at that time, this is a better alternative to actually letting him out. While skunks tend not to be dangerous as such, the prospect of a sprayed Bill, amusing though it is, would probably wear thin rather quickly. And while Racoons hunting cats seems to be mostly urban (rural?) myth, we occasionally get woken up by Mr and Mrs Rocky peering in through the bedroom french windows and Rocky is damn huge! Coyotes don't need an explanation. The poor beggars wouldn't stand a chance.

The rain is just plain old nasty, wet, cold bloody rain, only a couple of degrees from being snow, which we have had the previous couple of days.

So time for a shower, coffee, cereal and a trip to the loo prior to heading to the group meet.  Non-runners might not realize the importance of that last item, but runners certainly would. Being able to produce an early morning bowel movement at will is a major weapon in the successful runners armory and porta-potty timing prior to race start can make or break a successful run (no pun intended) on the big day. One of my major fears is what jet-lag might do to my finely honed talents in this area when we get to London.

A 45 minute drive to the Meeker Trailhead, arriving with "Woke Up This Morning" by A3 (aka the Soprano's theme) coming to it's very loud end as I pull in - that's the stuff to give the troops! A brief miserable and damp mill around saying hi to people and we're off, like greyhounds springing from the traps! Well, some people are. I just sort of plod off after them.

Have a chat with Linda for a couple of miles, until my left leg starts giving me agro and convince her to go on ahead. She's really strong these days and in the Tacoma marathon last year actually placed 3rd in her age-group in her first race. Time to crank up PodRunner and start grinding out the miles. Miserable weather, nice trail though. A bunch of new-born calves in the field near the turnaround, gambolling and looking generally enthusiastic about life. The other cows look on morosely in the rain. They know you chew cud and then you're beef.

The final aid station on the way back is at the 14 mile mark and it's the signal for my Mortons Neuroma to really kick in and the serious pain to start. The good thing is that I've gone a mile further this week than last before it happens. It's a growth on the bottom of my foot and feels like something in my shoe, the toes above it become really painful. Stopping every few miles, taking my shoe off and giving my foot a brief massage enables me to keep going and that's what I'll have to do in London. That will probably add 15 to 20 minutes to my time, but at least I should finish.

Ben comes back along the trail and picks me up at about the 2 mile mark and we head back to the trailhead together. He and Linda have really been incredibly supportive and I owe them a big debt of gratitude. Linda and Kayla are waiting at the trailhead and I try and convince them that Ben and I have just decided to do another 5 miles and they should join us. For some reason they don't buy it. Nor do the 2 newbies who come in behind us believe me when I tell them that Kayla had gotten the 8.5 mile half-way marking wrong and they had a couple more miles to do. Oh well, it was worth a try.

And another one bites the dust! Breakfast, a hot soak, a long nap and a restful weekend beckon.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQMbXvn2RNI

Tags:

Post Views: 254