Who Let The Cows Out? Moo.

Finger Lakes 50s: 25K

July 6, 2013

So even though my second stab at the Finger Lakes 50s 25K was SLOWER than my first, I still had an awesome time. Most importantly, my mom came with me to beautiful upstate NY to camp out IN A TENT for her very first time! There was no Thermarest, no camp-stove. There was a privy, though. She didn't really appreciate that part...but lived to tell the story. We camped out with a view of the campfire and within earshot of the cowbells that would be clanging at 5AM the next morning.

Mom and I at the start of the race--I convinced her to go camping for her first time EVER! 

After race director Chris Reynolds gave the requisite pre-race talk (in trail races, these talks/directions traditionally are filled with self-deprecatory tongue-in-cheek jokes, warnings about potential animals out on the trail, information about trail conditions, and special commentary to hard-core road-runners who will potentially become angry and aggressive later on about missing a turn and getting lost, thus destroying their carefully developed negative-split plan...well that never happens) someone counted down and our seriously motley crew began a nice, long downhill on Potomac Road.

Big smile BEFOREhand...

The Motley Crew!

I didn't have to try to not overdo it, since overdoing it is not in my body's physical lexicon/muscle-memory. At this point I was the penultimate runner, and though intellectually I was okay with it, emotionally I wasn't okay with it.  In the end, you're still last. But at least you finished. I was thinking this the whole way, along with enjoying the course.

One of many beautiful single-track sections of the trail

We then made a right turn into the cool and dark forest on the Potomac trail. The first few miles (well the first 5.3 miles to be exact) flew by. When I reached the second aid station, I was surprised that I had covered this mileage without so much as a "when is this going to end" thought. I was huffing and puffing but feeling pretty okay at this point.

The lushness of the Finger Lakes National Forest is astounding as it weaves in and out of cow pastures and cool forest

Then the course weaves in and out of cow pasture and deeply wooded forest, some of it on the edge of a slightly precipitous ravine. At the 5.3 mile point you do 3 mile out and back using the same aid station. For some reason, that particular section of the course felt the longest. In your mind it's only three miles. But three miles is three miles, especially for a slow runner like myself. I sustained myself with Coke and Twizzlers, and ice in the sports bra. WHO KNEW?

My new friend, the Twizzler.

From then on you continue making a huge loop through the forest, entering cow pastures with pleas on the gates to CLOSE THEM lest you wish to be chased by herds of cows through the woods. Sounds eerily like a slasher movie.

Let's talk about the copious amounts of sole-sucking mud that slowed most people down except for the few annoying prancers who seem to glide over anything in their minimal shoes....shoot. There was so much mud in fact, that I seriously considering pretending I was in a spa, plopping down right in the middle of the trail and taking a mud bath. But wait, I did  take a mud bath, albeit unintended. Several mud baths.

This mud was pretty dry

And then there was this kind of mud. I lost my right shoe several times. Although it was really annoying having to tread through so much mud, this was when I felt my most hard-core. Yeah, cuz that's what trail-runners do.

On my left knee is probably the insect that basically tried to eat my entire leg.

In trail running, you get to hop over branches and fallen trees, jump over snakes, turtles and frogs, dodge cows and their steaming patties, and wade in really fun puddles. Trying to side-step these things is just plain, um, ROAD RUNNING. No offense, friends.

I was grateful for the mud-cleaning.

There were many points throughout the course that REQUIRED you to stop, breathe, and take in the scenery. This is why I love both trail running and road running in the country. There are endless scenes like this.

The dappled sunlight is breathtaking

At one point, a wilderness person told me to look to my left. I thought maybe there was a bear, or a herd of cows. But he was pointing to the excellent vista, making sure that in my alternating misery,   bliss, and incoherence I didn't miss nature's bounty. Thank you, Mister AWESOMESAUCE wilderness rescue guy!

I looked left and could see for miles

I can't get enough green. They should bottle this.

My favorite part of trail running is technical single-track. My least favorite part of trail running is beautiful single-track that goes on forever. And ever. And ever, under the unforgiving rays of  mid-morning, early summer sun. The last three miles of the FL50's course is half in cow pasture, half in the forest on a very straight trail. And because it is the last section of the trail, it seems like days until you can reach the finish line.

This literally went on forever, I think.

But I finished straight into the arms of the illustrious RD, Chris Reynolds!

And then mom took lots of pics that unfortunately were just tooooooo unflattering, So I'll leave it at this one! (But thanks mommy!)

Exhausted and feelin' wonderful

If you haven't considered trail running, you ought to. It can be some of the most rewarding, challenging, but satisfying running you'll ever do. You get to participate in everything that nature intended us to be doing. Just get yourself out there, dudes.

The Beginning Of It All

I  started running for the very first time in high school while I was played field hockey and lacrosse. I went to a boarding school in Westchester County where most everyone played sports. (The few who didn't had mandatory PE!!) I was excited to join a team since I had never had an opportunity to be on one in public school in Brooklyn. My friend KC and I chose to go out for field hockey, since we had looked over at the soccer tryouts in horror while their crazy coach was having them do 10 laps of the field, just to warm up!

We both looked at each other and made an instant but silent decision to try out for field hockey, since 1. we were closer to the field, and 2. they didn't appear to be running much at all. It looked a little like golf. We could definitely do this. Neither of us knew anything about the sport or what would actually be required of us. So naively, we shuffled over to the Field Hockey field, which looked to be shorter than the soccer field (score!). Plus, there was a woman coach--those were all good signs, right?

WRONG. After doing a couple of laps around the field (I nearly died after every loop), we did a timed mile. I had NO IDEA what running a mile felt like since I had never had to run, for anything. (Childhood tag on city streets doesn't count and I'll talk about fence races another time.) That first mile ever was probably the most difficult physical thing I had ever done in my life. It consisted of 2 loops of the very hilly campus. The start of each loop was a short downhill followed by a rolling course around campus. The finish of each loop was a steady uphill until you turned into one of the school's main driveway, where even the stupid speed-bumps made me tired and angry.

My mile time was around 15 minutes--much of which I was walking and huffing and puffing and dying. When you have no idea of what a running a mile is like, or how long it is, or that a mile is like running from your block in Brooklyn to a block in another faraway neighborhood (like running from northern Bushwick to Bed-Stuy, for example), you believe you are going to be running/walking forever. I was disappointed to be the penultimate person, but ecstatic not to be the last that very humid, late summer day in the Hudson Valley.

After the mile-run debacle, practice started. We sprinted lengths of the field with and without our sticks, we practiced dribbling and driving field-hockey style, ran some more lengths of the field, practiced flicking the ball, and other field-hockeyish things.   KC and I were also introduced to the concept of the suicide, which on a basketball court might not be so bad, but on a FIELD HOCKEY FIELD was like someone pulling you from the sweet confines of restful death into purgatory over and over and over again. Two hours later I both couldn't feel my legs, my back, my neck AND then an hour later felt them very, very much.

What had we gotten ourselves into? How had we made this huge and STUPID mistake? Why was everyone better than us? How were these girls running up and down the field like it was second nature? They weren't even tired. KC and I were both kids from the city; she grew up in the Bronx and I had the honor of being born and raised in the borough of all boroughs, Brooklyn.

After the first week of practice, we still weren't accustomed to the demands of playing a sport everyday, let alone for two and a half hours a day. We endeavored to do better and decided that we would practice running so that we wouldn't suck so much at the sport.

This desire to be better took the form of early morning runs on the field of just a mile because that, we decided, was what was holding us back. So we practiced doing the 6 loops of the field hockey field, with its freshly cut grass and wild onion aroma. We stopped and started. Started and stopped. Bent over, breathless and chest heaving. We then would have to walk back up a humungous hill back to the dorms so we could limp into the showers before a much welcome breakfast.

At some point during the fall season KC and I started being able to run the warm-up loops continuously without stopping. We were able to dribble around the field without gasping for air. We could withstand the 2.5 hours of practice without keeling over face down. We could even make it through the rest of our typical boarding school evening--dinner, study hall, and socializing without being narcoleptic. That, my friends, is progress.

KC and I at our Senior Tea, after having survived several seasons of Field Hockey

The other thing that kept us going was simply being a part of a team and knowing that if we got better, if we worked on stuff, the team would also get better. During breaks, our coaches asked us to keep working out, and to try to run everyday. This was my first foray into running for the sake of running. I would don my best "workout" clothes, cotton and all. I mean, who knew? Into the front pocket of my heavy sweatshirt would go my SONY Walkman stocked with a cassette tape with a combination of Whitney Houston, Sade, and Simon and Garfunkel. (Later on in my high school career, it would be Puccini, Special Ed, and Indigo Girls.
Go figure.)

I would start timidly at first, because NO ONE in my neighborhood ran unless they were playing tag or stickball or racing up and down the block. People would stare a little and then go back to what they were doing. I would run up my street until it ended at a public school track CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC. Then I would circle the perimeter of the track, and continue on my street until it ended at a cemetery, and then I would be brazen and run through that. It wasn't until last year that I figured out the mileage of those runs back in the day. At the most, I ran 2, maybe 3 miles. Still, it felt epic back then. Just EPIC.

How freeing. How absolutely liberating! Especially in the confines of the grids of the real North Brooklyn, not today's hipster North Brooklyn. No hard feelings, guys......

This was when I discovered what running really was. To be able to move my body JUST BECAUSE was a pretty awesome feeling. That feeling continues today.

Deliciously Sore

My neck, my back..... Remember that awful rap/song by Khia? Obviously she was not referring to the weekend activity that I prefer to engage in. (The song is a disgustingly objectifying piece of crap non-music that no one should EVER listen to). Weekends are for running and er, recovering from  long jaunts outside in the sun, rain, snow, sleet, wind, etc. They aren't meant for other things. Maybe an occasional kayaking trip, or SUP lesson, or a bike race....

I'm addicted to the delicious soreness that remains and/or comes in full-force a few hours/days after a particularly grueling exploit. It is a constant reminder of the brute physical force and endurance required to carry one's heavy self miles across concrete, asphalt, dirt, gravel, rocks, and rogue tree roots. Even the stiffness that presents itself after a difficult exploit is welcome. It says "I did something EPIC." While the mileage I ran and walked this weekend wasn't what I would call EPIC,  it was enough to bring on the pleasant exhaustion and satisfaction that comes from that sustained effort.

This weekend, I endeavored to run 37 miles on the TGNY100 course. Why? Because one of my trail-runner friends had planted the seed in early June.  I was going to be in NY anyway training for my third Marine Corps Marathon in October and a possible September TNF Endurance Challenge in Georgia. What was I thinking? That I'd run my age, you know, just because I should. Actually, one of my Facebook friends and fellow trail runners convinced me to consider signing up for the TGNY100 because I had been looking for a way to train for the NJ Trail Series 6-hour Running With The Devil race at Mountain Creek in July. He suggested that I try the TGNY100, but I couldn't get my registration in quickly enough. So I decided that I would try to run some of the course anyway, unsupported. I admit that I had a lot of anxiety about pursuing such a long, unsupported run.  I didn't want to bandit the actual race so I made sure to start a good 20 minutes after the official start. This would ensure that I wouldn't get tempted to stop at any of the aid stations--they would be torn down after the last official runner passed through.


I woke up at 4 am, after having slept 5 hours (for some reason, it is essential that I not sleep too much before a long run. I think I run better and can go for longer on less sleep. Go figure.) I took the subway from Brooklyn with the early morning revelers who were returning home/headed for more partying. On the way I downed a Smooth Caffeinator Picky Bar, my favorite pre-long-run food, and a few sips of Lemon-Lime Heed (disgusting but effective.)

I exited the Times Square Subway station to be greeted by Broadway lights, and streets already starting to fill up with tourists. At 5:20am. The city that never sleeps. And this is why I love my hometown! I felt the energy of the city and the recently departed runners drawing me in and giving me the okay to get started.

I began running on Broadway at 47th, north to Central Park. Did you know that Central Park is uphill in every direction, even on the downhills? That's what it felt like during those first two or so miles. I remember thinking to myself that whoever was participating in the bike race that was happening in CP that morning had it easy; at least they had wheels!

The course then took me onto Morningside Drive with its beautifully verdant park on the right and majestic Union Theological Seminary/Columbia University-owned buildings on the left. As Morningside curved into 122nd, the first major hill stood before me. I made friends with that hill. After crossing Amsterdam and making a right onto Riverside drive then passing Fairway on 12th you enter the Hudson River Greenway on 135th. Um, HELLO? How did I not know this was here? Yeah, I'm one of those New Yorkers.

I ran and walked some on the Greenway for a few miles, getting spectacular views of the Hudson River and the George Washington Bridge. At some point I entered Fort Tryon Park in Inwood and after a mile or so (maybe two, maybe three, maybe .25 mile?) I crossed the Henry Hudson Bridge into my old neighborhood, Riverdale. It was really cool to be able to run from Times Square to Riverdale. Who knew that eight years after moving from my small one bedroom across from Van Cortlandt Park, I'd be running there from Times Square instead of hopping on the 1 train? I relished the opportunity to run through one of my favorite parts of the Bronx; I was especially excited to run in Van Cortlandt Park again, the scene of my very first trail race in the late 1990s (where I wore a too-tight pair of Brooks and couldn't walk for days) and the site of many a pre-marriage/pre-child run.







I passed the VCP ball fields filled with weekend cricket-players on my left and the tortoise and hare statue in the distance and entered the wooded part of the park, onto the well-groomed cross-country trail. The course then took me onto the John Muir trail (oh the fond memories!) and briefly onto the Croton Aqueduct trail. I love running in the woods alone, especially on tight single-track. However, I do NOT like running under dark and spooky underpasses. This is the case in VCP.  But I soldiered on, reminding myself that I had traversed this many times in the past and that there had been many runners here earlier, and none of them had been kidnapped I supposed...

After some twists and turns, the trail brings you to the other side of VCP in the northeastern part of the Bronx. Contrary to popular belief, the Bronx consists of much more than Jonathan Kozol's South Bronx or the industry and tractor trailers of Hunts Point. This particular neighborhood has neatly groomed houses and clean streets. I stopped at a corner store (bodega) and refueled with some Gatorade and Lays chips. Good thing the chips are a lot saltier than they used to be.  The cashier asked if I was part of the group that had been in there earlier, because you know, "You're late." I told him that I wasn't technically part of the race and then he said, "Well 85 more to go!"  I smiled, nodded, thanked him and left knowing at that I wouldn't be doing 37.

I ran next to the Woodlawn Cemetery for a bit and then after crossing a few avenues (I think) and  entered the Bronx Park Greenway, which follows the Bronx River and then intersects the Pelham Bay Park Greenway. There were more than a few people out running, skateboarding, walking, and even a group heading out for a canoe trip taking advantage of this day that had started with a beautifully ominous cloud cover and then morphed into brilliant sunshine. Some gave me quizzical looks (most likely because of the bright yellow "Running With The Devil" t-shirt I wore), and others shot me a good morning nod. At this point I was about 18 miles in. My neck, back, feet, and hips started to hurt. And let's just say I should have had an extra supply of Body Glide handy.  This was also when the sun started to beat down furiously, roasting my already very dark skin. (And yes, black people can get sunburn. I am living proof.)

As you enter Pelham Bay Park, New York City's largest park, you leave an urban landscape, cross the Pelham Bridge over the Hutchinson River, where you stop and appreciate the noisy aquatic birds and the families out fishing,  plunge into lush greenery and begin smelling forest and the briny waters of the Long Island Sound.

And this is where I missed the turn into Orchard Beach (I'm sure it was well-marked) and ran over the bridge to City Island instead.  I made the decision to stop here. A Dunkin Donuts Iced Coffee sounded like a great idea at that point since I was boiling, had run out of water and Heed, and was pretty satisfied with the mileage I had done for the day. According to my GPS, it was a little over 23 miles. I took it.

The first 22 miles of the TGNY100 course re- introduced me to some of the awesome urban road and trail running that is part of what makes New York City so incredibly varied and exciting. I didn't finish the 37 miles that I had intended to do, but I am appreciative of the fact that I was able to run through two boroughs on a gorgeous summer day, and test my endurance in my hometown.

Next: Finger Lakes 50s 25K

I wanna be THAT runner.

Lately I've been envious of those runners who can bounce easily from one run to the next without much fatigue or pain in those areas of the body that are necessary for, um, moving about in general.

I'd like to be THAT runner. You know, the one who could run a trail marathon last week with a decent time under six hours, say, then the next weekend run an ultra of the 50M+ category, and then do an "easy 5 mile shake-out run" the following Monday. WHO DOES THAT?  Plenty of  people do, apparently.

I want to be THAT crazy. I want to actually be able to do it without any niggling injuries, with seamless incorporation into my life and work as a boarding school teacher and dorm parent, and without the huge time commitment. I would love to be able to wake up at 3:30am after falling into bed at 11:30, run a few hours by myself in the dark (and in the WOODS with nocturnal animals milling about), be back home in time for my son and hubby to wake up, send them on their way to work and school, drink my black coffee and have my eggs florentine that I prepared the night before, get ready for my own work day, work, run with my cross country girls, etc...and find an hour or two in the day to do another workout. Just imagining a schedule like that is EXHAUSTING.

That sounds eerily like ultrarunner and all around amazing woman Anita Ortiz who somehow manages to fit it all in with a family of four teenagers, a husband, and a FULL TIME TEACHING JOB. Wow. Here's a really cool article about her (Running Times) and here's another (Trail Runner Magazine). I don't have the genes, body mechanics or infinite amounts of energy to be able to to complete the amazing feats she does. But I can dream... She is a huge inspiration! Make sure to read about her amazing feats.

All this is to say that I am thankful for the things that I can do. I think I have finally reached a point where I can do successive runs and workouts of varying lengths and types without struggling with annoying things like plantar fasciitis, weird pains in my inner ankle, or excessive weight (still working on this!) that prevent me from doing more than a couple of miles. I've been without major damage to both psyche and physique for the past two years and I am grateful for that.

Thank you, body. I appreciate and honor you.

The Next Logical Step

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. The best of times was the second 10 mile loop of my first 50K. The worst of times was the first and third loops of my first 50k. Running a marathon is crazy. Running a trail-marathon is CRAY CRAY. Running anything beyond that is grounds for immediate and permanent institutionalization. (I live and work at an all-girls boarding school. Does that count?). That said, you can now call me an ULTRA MARATHONER.

I had a bunch of vanilla gel in my mouth! (Awesome photo by Hillcrest Photography)

It's been almost a week since I ventured into ultra territory at the NJ Trail Series Ultra Festival. Race directors Rick and Jen McNulty did another AWESOME job providing one of the best trail race experiences in the state.

So what was it that inspired me to sign up for this nutty thing that I have finished? Hmmm....Maybe it was those overly-chipper-hyper-energetic runner types who asked "So are you doing the 50k next year?" as if that were the next logical step after having done a few marathons. "Um, yeah, I guess?" Because WHY would I want to repeat doing wimpy marathons?

Actually, the distance had dangled like a piece of toffee nut crunch before my sweets-deprived eyes. "C'mon, it's only 5 more miles. You can do it." So like a trusting fool I listened to the crazies in my brain and signed up, albeit late, for my first ultra. I knew exactly what the course would be. I knew what other crazy people would be there. I knew that I could coax my mom into venturing out into the cold of Northern Jersey to do what she does best (and that is to be the BEST, SUPPORTIVE MOMMY IN THE WORLD).  Now that I'm done sounding like a five-year old, I'll take you, willing reader and future ultra-marathoner, through the course.

The great thing about doing a loop course is that you can take the race loop by loop, 5, 10, or even 15 miles at at time, so the thought of running 31 miles is tolerable for at least the first few minutes. The terrible thing about a loop course is that it's comprised of loops that you have to do over and over and over again.  This particular course is a combination of out and back, lollipop, and amoeba-like configurations.

The course takes you around the Sussex County Fairgrounds, home of the NJ State Fair. For those of you who don't currently reside in or know anything about New Jersey, this is NOT the home of any of those whiny characters from that horrid reality show depicting the shenanigans of a couple of stupid twenty-somethings wasting the prime of their lives. But I digress...

This is true...

After your first mile on pavement (for the 50Kers), you do another loop around the Fairgrounds. And then you descend onto the trail, an old rail-trail/gas-line/ATVers paradise kind of racket. It's an ungroomed, bumpy, snowy, muddy, sometimes rocky, other times downright soaking, flat dirt trail traversed by a couple of roads on which drivers of trucks and large SUVs flew by or stopped and stared curiously at the dirty, haggard figures crossing the road at various speeds. There were dips and ridges, a downed tree or two and a gate at the first turn-around point that you were instructed to "High-Five".  There were rotted-out bridges, roosters, dogs barking, hunters' rifles shootin', and the lovely aid station with SOUP?!?!? at the far turn-around point. And there was wind. And flurries. And mud. Lots of shoe-sucking, toenail-bed dirtying mud.

It was quite the task getting these off my feet.

You won't believe how many people actually obeyed the sign, myself included.

The first out and back was deceptively easy. Sure it was flat, and sure it was just over a mile out. But the constant dread of the longer out and back undermined any awesome feeling I might have had high-fiving the gate at the first turn around. This part was also parallel at times to part of the pavement loop which came before the trail, so you could conceivably feel sorry for the folks who had not yet descended onto the slightly more foot-friendly trail.

Let's talk a little about the second out and back, but more importantly the turn-around point and how friggin' far it was from the rest of the world. Well, four miles from the finish isn't exactly an ultra (no pun intended, wink wink) but it is one, especially when you've been running and walking and crawling and tripping for what seems like hours. In my case it was hours. Those last miles were endless, what with those silent, light-footed Navy guys in their yellow Navy singlets, giving you that serious Navy encouragement and trained Navy eye-contact (which you try to avoid, because that Navy intensity bores through you and reads your non-Navy self-doubting mind), and then leaving you in their Navy-dust. Not intimidating at all.

This is also true.

At the end of the second out and back you reach a hill, back onto the pavement around the fairgrounds. Any other run or race, I would cringe at the thought of a god-damned hill after running 10 or 20 or almost 30 miles. This hill felt good. I guess when you change muscle groups after continuously and relentlessly abusing other muscle groups, the body and mind are intensely grateful.


Some new things I learned out on the trail this day:

• Gels are only tolerable for about 20 or so miles, and then you're nauseous.
• Chicken broth (which I normally think is DISGUSTING) is AMAZING at mile 20.
• HEED is always gross, no matter what mile. But you drink it anyway.
• I can have really interesting conversations with myself for like, hours. No need for iPods, or Pandora, or other people, even.
• My legs and feet could probably have done another loop or two after , but my mind would probably not have it.
• Mud is funner when it's at least 50 degrees out. 
• Ultra running is very much like childbirth. Right afterwards you think "I'm never doing this shit AGAIN." And then a day or two after the surprisingly tolerable soreness has subsided you're looking in Trail Runner Mag for the next 50K since you can like, do those now.
• Trail running really is  a disease that is most likely incurable.
• Homemade motivational signs work. Especially the ones that say "Not dead? Keep running."

It took me almost 10 hours to complete this task. I had been hoping for a time under 9 hours, but I will give myself a break since this was my first. Hey, I finished! A few years back, the idea of running more than a half was scary and unimaginable. Now I have been afflicted by the disease that everybody else out there on the trails has. I'll take it.

Not dead yet.

MCM 2012- Part 1: Mile by Mile run-down-or, A Few Marathon Thoughts

0: Wow, that Howitzer just sets the tone! GET IT!

1-8:10 am  My corral isn't even moving yet. I need to move over to the left side of 120-I will NOT be missing any cut-offs. Wait! No one said there was a hill on the left side of 120. I'll just take advantage of the downhill. BOO-YA!

2-Why am I doing this again? Wasn't this painful enough the first time?

3-This downhill feels NICE. I'm flying. Thank you STEAMTOWN! WOOHOO! Still on track. Twenty-three more to go!

4-Ok, I think this is where the juggler passed me last year? He's NOWHERE to be found! Does this mean I'm doing better????

5-SANTA!! I passed SANTA! This part of the canal goes on forever, and we still have 20 more to go.  I don't know about this. ARGH!

6-Ok, I'm feeling ok. Finally warmed up. WOW-there's the 5:30 pace group! YAY! I'll try to keep up with them for while.

7-OMG, they're walking! That means I can walk too, right? Doesn't matter, I'm walking anyway.
8-Losing the 5:30 pace group. Last year, I lost them around mile 5 which means I'm doing better, right?

9-I can still see the pacer's balloons. So, I'm ok. I love going through Georgetown. VASELINE!!!! Gimme some please! Ooh! Can I stop in that coffee shop? I could really use even more caffeine in addition to my 5 hour energy......Nice on the 15k time. Not quite as good as Boilermaker, but then again, I have a little under 17 miles to go, so THERE!

10- Ok, I feel ok. I can do this. Better than last year. NICE time on the 10 miles. I mean, relatively speaking.

11-There's the juggler guy! WHERE IS 13.1? Well, I'm doing good on time as far as getting to the Gauntlet goes, but I just need to make sure I have minutes to spare! OMG this sucks!

12-One more-it feels good to be chicking mad guys! CHICK CHICK CHICKETY CHICK!
13.1-Nice on the half.  Again, not my best time, but I still have 13.1 more to go. Sir, this is the end, right? Wait, there's nowhere to go. There is water everywhere.

14-Okay I have an entire hour to do 3.5 miles. I'm GOOD.

15-I got this. I hope I feel like this at mile like, 24.

16-This is where I had to potty last year. Not doing THAT again. That Port-a-Potty was disgusting.  And it took me a whole 3 minutes to get the whole thing done.

17-I'm almost there! Is there a sign? Where's the Gauntlet? Is there a sign? What the hell is the Gauntlet anyway? Hey, is this the Gauntlet? I think so, I think we passed it. Oh, ok....Wait, did we? Wait for it....

18- Well I must have beat the Guantlet since it's mile 18 and no one's trying to stop me. ON TO BEAT THE BRIDGE.

19-Wow, I'm doing this! I could actually walk and beat the bridge. But the minute I decide to walk, my leg's going to break or something and it'll be all for naught.

20-THERE'S THE BRIDGE AND THOSE DRUMMER WOMEN ARE AWESOME! Can I stay and dance? I could stay, really. Mile 21 is so far away. WHERE'S THE EFFING SIGN??

21-This is the hardest part. I hate concrete. I hate everybody. I hate my feet. I hate myself. I hate this effin bridge. I hate running. I hate marathons. I hate water.

22-Ok, that wasn't so bad.

23-CRYSTAL CITY! I hate yellow. I hate red. I hate blue. I hate purple. CHIPOTLE! BUFFALO WILD WINGS! I'm fine with just stopping now. I mean, I don't have to even finish. I could just eat some wings and be done. But please don't offer me any donuts, that just might make me barf!

24-Nope. Can't do that. Because then I would be a suckah.  A suckah who had two miles to go and then quit. These people better get out of my WAY, dammit.

25-Ok. I can do this. I can. I can. I can. Wait, I can run, faster. FASTER. Oh hill, I'm soooooooo prepared for you this year.

26-No I'm not. You still got me.

26.2-But I'm done! BAM! BOOYAH! ON TO THE NEXT ONE! Thanks for the medal, handsome Marines! OOOORAH!