Dear January

Dear January,

You have really been something. We’ve had quite the battle this year. You’ve bitten and kicked and wrangled with me almost every day. You’ve dragged me around and caused me to re-assess my running. And my supplemental exercise routine. And my diet. You’ve posed a lot of deep, piercing questions. Not sure I have all the answers, but I am working on that.

Now that you’re mere hours away from packing it in for another year, oh worthy opponent, how about we run a little scorecard and see where we stack up against one another?

Let us review these past 31 days, January …

• 60 hours of runwalk. That’s compared to 44 last year. (Score one for Me)

• 22 runs of at least 2 hours. That’s compared to 17 last year. (Me)

• Long-run breakdowns of a 6:09 (Red Eye 50K New Year’s Day), a 5:00, a 4:00, seven 3:00s and 12 2:00s (Seriously me)

• Living Room Yoga sessions: 3 (Draw)

• TRX training sessions: 7 (Me)

• Basketball ref action: 26 total games – 16 high school and 10 youth league (Draw)

• Days I did not run: 8 (January)

• Days I skipped running because the projected wind chill was more than -10F: 3 (Seriously January)

• Days I ran that were single-digit days: 4 (Me!!!)

• Days I ran less than 2 hours: 1. Although that day included a 20-minute tempo block at half-marathon pace … (still … January)

• Fast days: In addition to chunks of the Red Eye run and the aforementioned 20-minute tempo, I also churned out 5 times 7 minutes at 10K race pace, 10 times a 1-minute to 1-minute 45-second hill and another 20-minute tempo at HMP. (All me)

• Total number of push-ups this month: 6,200 (Draw, cuz I would have done fewer than this if the weather conditions hadn’t sucked so badly on several of your days).

So let’s see: Me 6. January 3. And 3 draws.

Truth: You kicked my ass, January. And even though I’m stronger and better and maybe even a little tougher now than I was before you showed up, I’m calling it even.

Thank you, January. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Learning

Happy dog. New tricks.

I’ve run somewhere in the neighborhood of 85,000 lifetime miles, yet I’m only now just exploring rest days. Coming from the School of The Difference Between Ordinary and Extraordinary is Just a Little Extra, non-run days haven’t been regular for me since, um, 1979. Yeah. Starting with the last week of December, I’ve plugged in one or two rest days a week.

I am learning.

Non-run days are giving me extra juice so that I’m putting in more time on my feet than I was when I was hitting the roads every day. What? Yep. Bouncing between 12 and 14 runwalk hours each week. And I’m sleeping better.

I am learning.

Yoga can mean downloading a video and doing it for 30-45 minutes in my living room. And yoga can also mean doing eight or 12 moves on those rare winter evenings when I’m sitting around the house rather than out reffing high school basketball.

I am learning.

Push-ups have changed my exercise world. After doing 100 a day for a 100-day stretch that ended just before Christmas, I have bumped the daily tally to 200-plus. Running is better.

I am learning.

Merlot is growing on me.

I am learning.

Full-body TRX routines -- even the truncated four-move ones – really do kick your ass.

I am learning.

When those close to me say, “Read this,” I am taking immediate action to make this happen.

I am learning.

After consecutive years of 183 miles, 190 miles and 167 miles at Three Days at the Fair 72-Hour, this year I’m throwing down and calling it out. This year, the final total matters. This year, I’m laser-focused on cracking the 200-mile mark. And this year, I’ll taper. And get off my feet every couple hours throughout the event.

I am learning.

This year, I plan to reacquaint myself with The Wild Oak Trail that was my old friend for my first decade of ultrarunning (more than a decade ago now). My hope is two 27-mile loops in February. And two more than that in October.

Off days. Hard work. Big plans. Hopes. Dreams.

Using my head.

Listening to my heart.

Day by day, lesson by lesson – and sometimes, inch by inch – I am learning.

Laughingly Hopeful

More running.

More rest.

More than 200 miles at Three Days at the Fair 72-Hour.

More laughter.

More push-ups.

More pull-ups.

More clarity.

More living room yoga.

More great craft beer.

More embracing the fun on the way to what could be -- knock on wood -- my 13th Umstead 100-Miler finish line.

More good food.

More mountain sunrises.

More writing.

More pushing the pace.

More runs with buddies.

More reaching.

More laughing.

More Wild Oak Trail loops.

More trips up and down Reddish Knob on pavement.

More joy.

Find the Fun

Well, lookit here. Crooked Road 24-Hour is this coming Saturday (and Sunday).

Let’s see: First year – 82 miles. Last year – 85 miles. Haven’t been very tough once the lights go out either year on this slightly-less-than-1-mile layout.

No clue what the final outcome will be this go-round, yet I’m optimistic.

This time around, I’m trying a different approach. Think Small.

Mostly my own aid.

No watch, which means running and walking as the terrain dictates. Walk the inclines, especially that fairly short but fairly steep hill that I think running up much of the day and night has contributed to my super pathetic nights the past two years.

Bringing the serious winter tights.

Enjoying little feet-up mini-breaks every 2 hours or so.

Think small. Handle what’s in front of you. Ignore the rest of it. And if things get bleak — as they inevitably do at times — fix what’s fixable and find the Fun in the grind.

Plan: Find joy, latch onto it and never, ever let it be wrestled from my paws.

More miles this time? Dunno about that, but what I do know is that there is much fun to be had this weekend, and I’m gonna do my best to make sure that I am present for every single moment of it.

A Metaphor for Life

Think small.

I think that may be the trick to this ultrarunning thing.

Control what you can control. Ignore the rest of it.

No need to count the miles left. Or hours left. Or distance to the next aid station. Not helpful.

Think small. Look inward and find the rhythm the same way you do when you start out on a normal morning run. Or when you begin to crank it up on a particular fast track interval. Find your breath. Relax your shoulders. Relax your face. Find the line through the rocky trail maze.

Think small. No value in "Holy cow, I can't do this for (fill in the blank with time or distance)." No point in "There's no way I can last another XX hours in this heat." And zero hope in "I cannot climb that climb one more time. No way." Yes, you can. Yes, you can. Yes, you can.

Think small. Find whatever scale you are comfy with and set about wrapping your head around that scale. For me at Hinson Lake 24-Hour several weeks ago, it was each of two or three run segments on the 1.52-mile loop. Not covering the entire loop in a set amount of time.

And it was also making sure that I drank some chocolate milk every hour. And that I plopped in my chair every two hours for a quick 2- to 3-minute break, making sure I propped my feet up on my cooler to take a bit of pressure off them.

Think small. Once it got dark at HL, I shifted focus to the promise to begin running again at the first wooden bridge after the left turn off the dam. Find the bridge. Start running. Find second gear. Keep running until crossing the 300-foot-long bridge, then walk the entirety of the kitty-litter-like footing and small hill comically dubbed Mount Hinson. (Thanks for that bit of magic, Charles West!!!)

Think small. Be mindful of whatever the task immediately at hand, be it finishing that Zip-Lock baggie of Frito's Corn Chips, polishing off the last of the green tea-Red Bull combo mix, finding just the right groove in the trail over there on the Hinson Front Nine's longish straightaway.

Think small. Know when to say "No" -- such as "The pizza is fresh. Who wants some pizza?! -- and then push your mind onward to the next order of business. Same goes, most of the time, for getting caught up in visiting with somebody out there on the course, especially if that somebody is going at a different speed than your speed.

Think small. No need to get greedy and change what's working just because the idea of, say, running for the next hour or even running the whole next climb happens to flash across your mind. Be patient. Remember your training. Trust your plan.

And if things happen to start to go a little sideways, then I know a really great strategy to bring things back to even ... think. small.

Think small. When negativity starts its inevitable ultrarun creep, intake some calories and beat the neg back with the happiest thought you can muster.

Fresh off a 5-mile PR for 24 hours and a 10-mile course best in my sixth try at that same place, I'm thinking I may have bumbled across the answer I've been chasing all of these 20-something ultrarunning years.

Think. small.

#visionquest

#hinsonlake24hourhereIcome #heckuvatrainingjuly #dittoforaugust #four14hourrunwalkweeks #two16hourrunwalkweeks #five5plushourrunwalks #5weeksoffive2hourplusrunwalks #1weekof6 #20longonesinJuly #onschedulefor23inAugust #seefooddiet #legsupwallposeismyfriend #3minuteplanksarenormalnow #20:205Kaftera2hour45minutewarmup #100chinupsin21minutes #mindblowinglybeautifulmountainruns #oftenawakeby330 #oftenasleepby9 #cominguponrunstreakday250 #TRX40-40challengeleavesmegasping #braintwistingtracklongruns #momentsofiremarkableclarity #hoursandhoursofblessedcontentment

Finding my Peace

I am having such a great time lately.

Training numbers are up way up. I’ve been killing it volume-wise since licking my emotional wounds from mid-May’s sub-standard, mind-bending Three Days at the Fair showing. Dude, after skyward performances of 183 miles and 189 miles, this year’s 167 miles was a serious lesson, a spectacular ass-kicking and a mighty fine wake-up call all wrapped up in one compact package.

The message screamed at me is pretty simple …

Slow down. Have fun. Be at peace.

Leave the serious number-chasing jazz to others. Splits and pacing schedules and charts and graphs and training schedules and speed work and the like. Glad that works for soooooo many runners. Absolutely glad for them. All that stuff is not for me. Once was. Now, not so much.

So how have I bounced back since 3 Days 72? Dramatically. June featured a steady diet of 19 long runwalks for a total of almost 41 hours. July saw me throw down with 20 long runwalks and a total of 57 hours. Rock solid for me. So far in August, I’ve gone 2 hours five out of seven days. And there are a buncha weekly 5-hour possibilities on the August and September horizons.

Seven weeks and counting until Hinson Lake 24-Hour. I’ve kinda laid a whole basket of eggs there across the past five years, always shooting for a number way over my head and then coming away feeling empty. I’m betting this year, I come away full. Keep reading.

This most recent two-month block looks a lot like the one back in 2005 when I fired off a super-duper-strong-for-me showing at The Fellowship of the Ring. Plus, I’m a whale of a lot more physically fit these days than then. So, the table is being set. The work is being done.

Such an interesting turn of events this year.

Went into Holiday Lake 50K with the primary goal of focusing on The Push and not giving a rat’s ass about the final number. Results: 5:21 and a seriously giddy me.

Entered last minute my beloved Shamrock Marathon – Shamrock No. 28 for me – with a focus on doing a 9-minute run/1-minute walk routine through 24 miles, running in from there and taking what the day had to give. Went through the half in 2:00:00 and came back in a for-me-beastly 1:50:10 by focusing on Steady, Relaxed and Move Up To That Next Group. Results: 3:50:10 and then 3x10 pull-ups on the 20-minute jog back to my brother’s place.

Rolled up to Three Days 72 all tapered and rested and loaded for bear … and locked down on punching out 210 MILES OR BUST. I had my No. 2 pencil all sharpened up and I was ready for 80 miles Day 1, 60 miles Day 2 and 70 miles Day 3 or else. Yeah. Right. Problem with that set-up for me is that, well, I was kidding myself. Why? Because deep down at the very core of my being, I don’t care about how many miles I do. So that makes the whole charts and graphs and pacing plan and all that pretty worthless for me. And remarkably counter-productive. It turns those numbers into a tailor-made recipe for surrender for me. Yeah. Weird. And really, really unusual. Yet, absolutely the way it has been for me for a lot of years recently. Results: Day totals of 70, 45 and 52. See Bill overheat Day 1, miss all opportunities to hit big number and then go ka-boom …

 … and yet a really cool thing happened at the end. I super-duper rallied for those final 10 hours and managed to crank out the final 3 miles in 7:22, 7:03 and 6:49, respectively.

Why? Two reasons. I always try to rip the final 3 miles in honor of my dear friend Sabrina Little, who ran some fast laps with me two years ago and who also, by the way, is the current American women’s record-holder for 24 hours with 152-plus miles. (Yay Sabrina! You are amazing!) And also because I got my head screwed back on right for those final 10 hours. Because I woke up from a nice long nap at 10:54 p.m. Saturday night and had found my peace. Renewed – especially in that mostly empty cavern that exists between my ears – I smiled and laughed and hiked and eventually blasted my way through that final 10 hours.

So, what’s my goal for the 2013 Hinson?

Slow down. Have fun. Be at peace.

Some Things I Know

Some things I know because I am an ultrarunner ...

• There is a lifetime of difference between waking up for a weekday long run at 0300 and 0400. There are two lifetimes of difference same scenario but make the wake-up times 0300 and 0500.

• It doesn’t always get worse.

• It’s easy to remember each real solution to an everyday problem that you come up with when you’re out for a long run. If it’s a real solution, you remember it. And if it’s not, no sweat. And good riddance.

• Patience on a run is oft-times hard-earned. For me, at least.

• Anyone who says a 50K isn’t an ultra has never raced Promise Land 50K. Or Rattlesnake 50K. Or Snowflake 50K on a bitter cold day. Or Catherine’s Big Butt on a late-July scorcher.

• No matter what the weather, cold post-run beer is really, really hard to beat.

• Some of life’s best steps are those first tentative strides that you take once you beat back the overwhelming desire to give up.

• Some friends you make in ultras – if you are lucky – touch your heart forever.

• If you let it, crossing a 100-miler finish line can make you awfully cocky.

• I may not be able to run this next mile, but I can damn sure run to that next tree.

• Sometimes, the way to the silver lining is the most direct path through the pain.

• A couple decent 72-hour race mileage totals change everything.

• The best aspect about an outstanding performance is that you surprise yourself.

• For 23 years I’ve been running ultras, and I still don’t know much about how to run ultras.

Some of the Why

Why do I run, you ask?

Some reasons …

Because the gentle movement of a long, long effort feeds my soul.

Because sleep is a crutch.

Because of the thunderous quietude.

Because of the laughter of friends old and new.

Because if I go long enough, my place in the world always seems satisfying.

Because I get to take myself to places in my mind that I likely never would have gone otherwise.

Because I can.

Because I eat and drink whatever I want, and I weigh just 2 pounds more than I did when I graduated from college 30 years ago.

Because of the special experience that is generated by the sounds of a waking day.

Because of that silky sweet feeling at run’s end.

Because trail miles make special people even more special.

Because some days, moments on the run are the best ones of the day.

Because I've been doing this for 37 years, and it is still my favorite art form.

Because sometimes – to steal a favorite line from my eloquent pal Fred Dummar – I love kicking my own ass.

And because there have been times – a star-lit sky, a stunning sunrise, that moment just after I poke a hole in the attic of The Pain Cave – when I’m pretty sure that I see the face of God.

Flacko and Spading

-->

So me and Jack are nearing the end of our 2-hour runwalk Friday morning when – lo and behold – I find a penny on the sidewalk. On heads. Jack always ALWAYS finds the money first, so of course I squeal and give him the business over this. We have a great laugh about it.

When I get into the office, the first email I click on is “Fwd. Sad, sad news” and I learn that Steve Flack and James Buracker were killed the night before in a car wreck.

Both of them were many things, including basketball refs. Both of them started with our ref association on the “two-man court” that I oversee at our summertime ref camp, which gives me an extra special tie to each. Both were salt-of-the-earth guys. Both leave huge voids.

So around 4 a.m. Saturday before crossing the mountain on my way to a much-needed long run on single-track trails, I go with a last-second switch and decide to stop for some coffee. That stop and pursuant restart puts me in exactly the right spot to see the most magnificent shooting star ever.

A penny on heads. And a shooting star.

I hear you, boys. I hear you.

Love,

Gentry

Morning Eyes

(From an observation during this morning's 2-hour runwalk. These come all the time during runs. And thanks to my buddy Rinn for suggesting that I post some of 'em here. :-)

Morning Eyes

Blue, white, orange, red, blue

Far as morning eyes can see

Blue Ridge Mountains March.

Mid-November CR24 recap

Subtitle: OH YEAH!!!

90 laps. 85-plus miles. Zero nausea. One 20-minute nap at 0524. Four-plus more laps than last year. Three more miles than last year. A buncha new friends. A lotta great new stories. So, so many people to thank for their compassion, good cheer and encouragement. Wow. Just wow.

Case in point: The Amazing Scott Family. RD Ricky, wife Sharon and daughters Korre and Kara cheered for me, counted my laps, smiled their amazing smiles (!!!). Made this country boy feel like a complete rock star. No way to repay that. Ev. er. Y'all are beyond compare.

Chocolate milk only the first six hours. Dried fruit and salty chips until about dark. McDONALD'S HAMBURGER three times throughout the dark. Some other salty items on and off, too.

Spent much of the night going round and round with, at different times, new friend Rob Mitchell (100 miles!!!) and my former West Virginia Wesleyan College teammate Tom Elmore (93 miles in about his 8th or so ultra!!! How 'BOUT them Bobcats?!!!). Other folks throughout the night included Gene Meade, Mo Percy, Cyndy Barbour and my longtime running pal Bob Ring.

Oh oh, I almost forgot: Dear Lauren Wilkins, THANK YOU FOR SAVING MY RACE!!! Deets are fuzzy still but i think it was around 0100 and I was doing the weebles-wooble thing and had fairly strongly committed to finishing one more lap and then crawling in my sleeping bag for a break ... when ... I get back to the start/finish line and Lauren ... has ... McDONALD'S COFFEE!!! And she even put the cream and sugar in it for me after I whined about my hands being too frozen for my fingers to work properly. Walk, slurp, walk, slurp ... BACK IN THE GAME, DAWG!!! Thank you, Trail Angel Lauren. You can bet that I will be looking for a way to repay you somewhere down the road. :)

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I enjoyed myself all night. Really. And. Truly. Drank in the changing nighttime sky. Found comfort in the river. Even drew some power from the train that blasted past.

Slapped on the Patagonia puffy for every step of the nighttime portion, even though I ran a whole lot more than I expected to in the dark. Was having too much fun to walk the entire night. Kinda magical. 

Happy. Happy. Happy!!!

5th place overall.

Pre-CR24 Notes to Self

Be. patient.

Eat. real. food.

Be. patient.

Change. into. tights.

Be. patient.

Remember. chocolate. milk.

Be. patient.

Tell. funny. stories.

Be. patient.

Find. a. friend.

Be. patient.

Laugh. a. lot.

Be. patient.

Stay. out. there.

Surprise. yourself.

CR24 Plan(s)

Crooked Run 24-Hour is almost here. And I have a couple plans. 

Plan A
• Run 2 full laps to shed the nerves
• Run 10 mins. and walk 5 mins. until I get to 50 miles
• Hike all night
• Crush the final 2 hours


Plan B
• Run whenever I feel like it
• Walk whenever the mood strikes
• Be content to work through any bad patches by walking. And eating.
• Stay out there

My 24-Hour format PR is 90.0 miles. I did 82.5 at last year's inaugural Crooked Road, during which it got brutally cold and I took a 2-hour "nap."

This time? Eat. Drink. Run. Walk. Laugh. Repeat.

And be happy with whatever the day gives. Now that would be pretty darn cool.

When the bell rings

You know it. Happens every time you push. I mean, really press it. That time. The time of decision.

The bell.

When the bell rang at Hinson, I gave up. I went looking for excuses, and I found about eight hours' worth of them.

For 13 hours, I strung together a brilliant performance. Patient. Calculated. Measured. Monitored. Flexible. Break-free. Dude, I was killin' it.

And then, it got dark. And then it got hard. And when the bell rang, I took a break. Knew when I crawled in the cab of my truck for a nap that any shot at 100 miles had gone bye-bye. Wasn't sure how legit the shot still was for my 90-mile 24-hour PR when I crawled back out 40 minutes later, but realized quickly that I could no longer do the math. Should be no big deal because I suck at math, but at that time, it was the Entire World.

So, I walked. And ran a little. And rode the emotional night-time ultra roller coaster. And took two more little naps, calling them efforts to problem solve even though I didn't need either of them. And eat stuff after every 1.52-mile lap even though it was too late for that to matter much.

Sun came up, I got frisky and I finished with plenty of running left.

Numbers: 50 miles in a comfy 10:56. 55 miles in 12:07. 40 laps in the first 14 hours. 15 laps in the final 10 hours.

Final outcome: 84.76 miles for a smashing 10K Hinson Lake PR in this, my fifth running of this jewel. That's my second best 24-hour total in seven 24-hour format tries.

Looks great. Looks pretty bad-ass even, especially the rally at the end there. In some ways, I guess it was. Made some fantastic on-the-fly decisions. Experimented with the original plan, found a better plan, rode that one for a long way. Definitely did my own race. Improved the final number. A lot.

Still, from a racing perspective, the bell rang and I cratered.

So, how did I do?

Depends on how you look at it.

Here comes Hinson Lake 24 ...

Two more sleeps until one of my faves, Hinson Lake 24-Hour.

Holy cow, am I ready.

Tapered. Packed. Repacked. Cash in hand. 12-CD book checked out from the library. (Major nerd side note: If the by-far-most-frequently-used card in your wallet is your library card, you might be a nerd!!!). Visions of a tall stack of Blue Monkey pancakes from Little Grill Collective Friday morning breakfast dancing in my head, followed by about a 6-hour, couple-stops-to-do-some-yoga trip to Rockingham, N.C. Once there, it's get gas for the return trip, grab some Magic Hat No. 9, set up camp and then REALLY start to freakazoid out. That's where the Magic Hat will help. And the other campers, too.

My goal: 100.3 miles. That's 66 laps of the 1.52-mile layout.

The how: 36 laps in the first 12 hours. 30 laps in the last 12 hours.

The lap-by-lap set-up: 20 minutes a lap for the first half. And 24 minutes a lap for the second half.

The execution: I'm expecting to run most of the first two laps to shake out the nerves, and then employ the countdown timer. I'm gonna start with 4 minutes run/2 minutes walk for a lap and then see how close to 20 minutes I can get. And then adjust the ratios from there, if needed.

Weather says 79F/61F and possible thunderstorms. Sounds steamy. Good thing I've packed a bandanna to wet and tie around my neck. Aid station has everything that I need (dried fruit, Fig Newtons, Gatorade, water, Mountain Dew, ginger ale). I'm bringing along mint chocolate GU and beef jerky for backup just in case. And also the ginger chews.

I have my chair. And my lucky rain hat. And my thyroid meds. Three hats. And my patience. And as much toughness as I can muster in this, my 22nd year of ultra running. And lots of hope.

Limit the breaks, especially at night. Go slowly enough early after the 0800 start that I am still deciding when to run and when to walk once that Sunday morning sunrise happens.

If i do this right, I have a legit shot at 100.3 miles. Focus focus focus. My current PR for the 24-hour format is 90. By 0800 Sunday, I'm hoping to have a rock-solid "WAS" to put with that 90.

Two. more. sleeps.

Bring. it.

Hopes and Dreams

• 66 laps for 100.3 miles at Hinson Lake 24-Hour Sept. 28-29. My best there in four tries so far is last year's 51 laps for 77-and-change. My best evah for the 24-hour format is 90.0 and that was a buncha moons ago, but I'm running strong and have my head in a good place. Much depends on the weather. And on whether I can go out slowly enough that I don't throw a rod and crack the engine block before dark. Working on the mental prep more than usual. (Translation: "More than usual" equals "any at all" for any race other than 3Days@theFair). Love this course. Love Tom Gabell and all his crazy helpers. Crazy psyched about Hinson already!

• Guide Bill Potts the final 34 miles to a successful Grindstone 100-Miler Oct. 6. Potts is a total beast. And in my closest circle of friends. I joined him at the Wild Oak parking area two years ago en route to his 24:30ish G-stone finish -- dude's FIRST 100-MILER!!! -- and also the master's male crown. He was so impressive. You can't hide stud. Memories for a lifetime, that day.

• Eclipse my 83.5-mile total at Crooked Road 24-Hour Nov. 17-18. Was off the course for a total of about 4 hours last year, so my desire is to fix that this time around. Trusting that, given RD Ricky and Sharon Scott's moving the run from early-December to mid-November, nighttime temps won't be in the low-20s again. Fingers crossed on this! Great people. Excellent course.

• Grab a whole buncha fun and some decent training miles at the VHTRC 50km in December and hopefully the Red-Eye 50km Jan. 1 and keep the time on feet cranked up during high school basketball referee season in prep for ...

• A solo shot at 100 miles on The Wild Oak Trail course. I've targeted March 22-24 for my try, so that means no Shamrock Marathon pacing or Umstead 100-Miler for 2013. Frankly needing a break from both for various reasons that don't matter much to anybody except me, so not worth elaboration here – but, for now, suffice it to say that I'm already fired up about taking on a new challenge that seems more than a little over my head. Already gotten a bunch of offers of crew/pacing support, so I feel as if I am in good hands. Dreaming of a 7 a.m. Friday start and a mid-evening Saturday finish. Emphasis on “dreaming.” Dream goal = 36 hours. Run founder and original/multi-time finisher Dennis Herr reminds me that there is no time limit, so I can take as long as I want and that I'll still get one of those rarest of rare finisher's shirts.

Let's see: Four loops. 36,000 feet of up and down. Maybe 15 people maybe have done 100 here. I think I'm the slowest one to give it a real try. We're talkin' big league here, kids. I essentially started my ultrarunning career on this loop, so it seems right that I should take a whack at this.

The smile I have on my face right now just thinking about that shirt means that this is most definitely the right time to introduce this dream to reality.

Here we go ...

Special Place

Down the pavement, I come. Wow. Seems a lot warmer than when we kicked this one off about five hours ago. Lookit. There's a mile mark on the road. Thank you crazy cyclists for those permanent lines. OK. "4." That's miles to the top. Quick math ... 2.7 miles away from done. Don't check your watch and there will be no ... need ... to ... 4:50:20 ... ack ... 19:39 final 2.7 cracks 5:10:00. What the hell. Here we go. Third gear. Fourth. And over to fifth. Nice and smooth. Hot feet. Quick steps. Relax the dots on left shoulder, right shoulder, bottom lip. There. Good. Loose arms. Soft hands. Floppy cheeks. Floppy, floppy cheeks. California Highway Patrol, baby. Chest up. Hips forward. Push off. (Wait. Whoa. Been forever since that came around. As in the college days.) Rhythm. Rhythm. Find the sound. Squish squish squish of the worn-down Vomeros. Yes. Good. Little more forward lean. Not too much. Yes. Nice. Drop the shoulders just a bit. Find the notch. Oh. Right there. Hell yeah to pullups, baby! Is that another mark? Wait. Whoa. "6." 6? I blew past 5? Holy ... Here it is. Watch check. 5:04-something a little fuzzy. Go. GO. GOGOGOGO. Now. CHP. CHP. Every step. Relaxrelaxrelax. Man, this hurts. Not even a race. Why doing this? Everything hurts. Not sure how much more I ... can ... NO! Shut it. You got this. It may have been 500 years ago since the last time, but it's still the same. YOUR choice! YOUR. CHOICE. C'mon. NOW. Go. GO. GOOOOOO. Annnnnd ... woosh ... no. more. hurt. There's Vince. "Hey Vince." I think I just scared him a little with that grunt or whatever that noise was. Slowing some now, but still no pain. Daggone. I did it. No. more. pain. Haven't been here in what seems like forever. Remember why? Yeah, I sure do. The next couple hours are gonna suck. Maybe the next day. Or two. Know what? Worth. it. My truck. The line. 5:09:48. Sweet Jesus, I'm finished.

The Long Run Game

From my log … with the definition of "long run" being at least 2 hours of Time on Feet.

2011 numbers as of 6/30/2011 were 92 long runs for 307 hours.
2012 numbers same date were 92 long runs for 309 hours.

For perspective, let's take a gander at 2003, the year I launched the Long Run Game. Here we find 100 long runs and 316 hours. For the year. Yeah. The whole year.

Lucky me.

2012 Three Days at the Fair

189.7 miles covered in 72 hours

221 laps of the .85whatever loop

7 more laps than last year

58 hours spent on my feet

12.25 hours time spent tossing, turning and sleeping

1.75 additional hours off my feet

1.5 hours, the rough estimate of how many MORE hours I was out there moving this year compared to last year, when I covered 183.5 miles.

78 reported high temp

39 reported low temp two nights. Next year, don’t pack like you’re heading to Nags Head in August!

8th overall place. This year’s total woulda been 4th last year

4 people I spent significant amounts of time with out there. Special thanks to Fred Murolo, Steve Tursi, Melissa Huggins and Bob Ring for all the laughs, convo, shared suffering.

23:00 The rough equivalent, says RD Rick McNulty, of my final 5K

0 inches of rain

1 more life-changing deal