Seven Sisters! -- Sun. May 2

Well, now I know I'm bonkers. But not because of the risk to life and limb, so much; more the sheer depth and breadth of soreness and muscle dysfunction that a run of barely a dozen miles can bring. It's Tuesday evening now, and my legs still feel foreign, out of my control. Ouf. I guess the organisers won't be posting the results any time soon, so I can't give any official details, but here's my approximate report.

To be fair, quite parallel with the encompassing soreness, I feel a continual sense of glee (relief?) at having survived and completed the race. It was a blast, no two ways about it, and (inshallah) I'll be back next year. But I'll be a bit more careful about preparation, specifically, I'll carry Gu packs or similar, and take them at 4 and 8 miles--there's a handy gentle interlude at the Summit House that would be perfect, both out and back. This year was probably as hot as it's likely to get in early May--90 degrees and mainly sunny, dry and dusty. But that didn't bother me so much, as I had plenty of water: I carried a bottle, drank gatorade before starting, grabbed another cup at the turnaround point, and refilled the bottle twice en route, as well as drinking at water stops. I was thirsty at the end, but not dehydrated, and the heat didn't seem bad at all. I wonder if it even helped me, in getting me warmed up and loose very quickly, so I didn't worry about cramping up; maybe.

The route felt pretty much as I expected it would. I knew I could do the first leg strongly, but I wondered about the way back, and finishing--at all, let alone running--so I went out at medium effort, tagging along with some faster runners, but letting others go. The only part I pushed a bit was at the start (first mile and a half) so I could get out from the real crowds as soon as possible; chugging past people on the ups and the downs was also quite encouraging, though I knew some of those guys would be getting back at me later.

The ups and downs are really quite staggering: it's kind of like a primitive stair-climb race, only there's descent as well. I don't think they do that in real stair climbs, and I know why: even yesterday, when I couldn't balance very well on the flat and going downstairs was murder, I felt better going upstairs (it's maybe how we're built? Or how I'm built? Anyhow, once I recover some mobility I'll be interested to see how the rest of me feels). I started to get proto-blisters by the time I reached the Summit House, and the descent to the halfway point was where my quads started to get a bit painful. Up to that point, from about mile 2, I'd been sticking close behind a top female runner Deb L (who fell just after the Summit house, but was unfazed, and shortly after that got away for good). As we headed down the tricky descent (slanted slabs of rock, not kind to tiring feet), we met the first returners, one by one, so that as I reached the turn around I'd lost count after 10 of them. I was in the mid-late 20s place wise, according to one spectator, but already I was starting to rein back. Stopped to eat half a banana while some helpful chap refilled my water bottle, then started back up the hill, but that long haul up really took it out of me. Passed Rob L and Joe B somewhere up there as they were coming down, and I felt pretty grim at that point. At the Summit I regrouped a bit, and then it was a mainly solitary slog for a while, realising slowly that I needed real food, real soon. There was none. I asked. Asked the water stop folks, the sky, the plants --those fresh green leaves started to look chewable, but some were surely not good for me, and I didn't (at that point) want to stop.

Inevitably, hunger turned to faintness, and eventually, I had to walk; a real bonk like the Monson half that time. Told myself I'd just walk the ups and downs, but with maybe two miles to go I was only intermittently jogging even on the flatter bits. Some others must have been similarly bushed, as fewer people overtook than might have--but I was wondering if I'd even be in the top 100 at that point. Finally spotting the concrete foundation and then the iron pipes coming down the slope that meant Bare Mountain was close, I felt I'd rested enough, and tried to push a bit more, but I was tired. I'd wanted to lie down and sleep by that point, but then a spectator cheered on a woman and her dad coming up behind me, and I bucked up enough to get running. Sore, sore, sore, down the mountain we'd climbed in a crowd, with people on my heels -- let one guy past, but held off the others and suddenly, it was over. My digivice measured 2:42:35, which was fine by me. I think that's good enough to be within the top 100, and with food (assuming I recover proper use of my legs!) I think there's maybe 8-10 minutes I can take off that. That's a target, anyway for next year: 2:35.

Coming down and out of the trail there was no finish line, just a small crowd of recuperating runners and supoprters/family grouped at the side of the road, plus a truck with lots of bottles of icecold water. I downed about half of one, and then crossed 116 to find my way to the food! Up to the Visitor Center, blissfully cool and shady, where I got yoghurt, granola, banana halves, apple and orange juice, lemonade, bagels w/cream cheese, cookies, and more granola. MUCH better! Took off my shoes and wandered back to the start/finish line, waiting to see if Rob and Joe would appear, but there was a cool breeze that started to chill me a bit -- I stretched a while, then headed back to my car. Home, drink more, and then sleep, thinking about next time.