Not that my marathon history is distinguished. Basically, it’s clearly NOT my distance, a 3:16:08 PR with all shorter distances ‘predicting’ faster. After NYC, Gary (Wallace, Web-Guy, and the only dude stupid enough to call Stevie his best training buddy – no comments by the editor please) said, what happened? Oh, just the usual – I hit the wall early, hard, and suffered long. And the training wasn’t quite insane enough to carry me through.

So between Picatinny 10M and Shore Marathon, ZERO races. Oh well, there goes my Grand Prix chances (which are none anyway). But this winter I really ramped up the training. Good medium length runs with Gary , the usual Sunday Strider runs, longer treadmill runs at the club near work (you try running in scenic Paramus NJ) and up went the mileage. Not even the hint of a speed workout or tempo run.

Then, suddenly, a new locale for Sunday runs; long runs with Wendy Locke, Don Kelly, the Frieders and Fleet Feet superstars, starting at the UPS building across from Lountaka Park in Morristown. Hmm, those self-absorbed young lads always bring special guest stars like Henry Correa (?) and others whose names I forget, merely the cream of NJ runners! Gary of course is always pleased to be invited ANYWHERE – besides, the local NJ hotshots are clearly jokes compared to Mr. Gary-Olympian in his prime, and meanwhile he’s hanging with the BIG BOYS. And, the big GIRLS (not that kind of big). We’re talking FAST women (not fast that way, dudes). Triathlete supremo Angie Dello, local Boonton star Kathy Carrea (attractive and single - Willie wake up!), and of course, a budding superstar in NJ, my second-to-Gary-only main training partner, WENDY LOCKE. If you don’t know Wendy’s qualifications, where have you been? Too damn bad – you’ve heard of Laurie P. haven’t you? More visibility, I guess. Also throw in Strider Willie DeRoberts, and the UPS Morristown Fleet Feet run is a hit. Sorry Strider Sunday run – this is better.

Then, just as I’m getting into it, I have to deal with a long-standing concern; me tummy problem. You don’t want the details. Suffice that it almost killed my budding consecutive run ‘streak’ which now dates from June 1 2000, and resulted in a colonoscopy AND endoscopy. This involved serious downtraining, a full day+ of starving except for a drano-type fluid, and afterwards going off coffee and alcohol for a few days. The final diagnosis was H. Phylori, often leading to ulcer, and a round of antibiotics which had me totally nauseous and absolutely delirious, thinking deep thoughts about my life which I now can’t remember. A postscript; tummy problems are still with me, I have the same crappy diet and habits, and I’m still afraid it’s the big Casino (anybody see the Sopranos), just misdiagnosed, I’m the eternal optimist. I’ll go back to the doctor – soon? Sure, I just can’t wait to repeat the experience. And kill my current outstanding conditioning.

Coming off this and several low mileage weeks, my first experience with a two hour run from Morristown was an eye-opener and MAJOR motivator. I couldn’t finish, and that was the start of the big push. Don’t want THAT to happen again. That week, the mileage went right back to 50+, and after that ALL the runs with the Fleet Feet’rs were good.

As for the other minor events in my life? They came fast and furious, and unfortunately had a devestating effect on EVA’s training. We brought home a new child (tiny terror, baby gorgon, come visit us and he’ll say hello, in his way). And then the biggie: we went through the absolute hell of bidding, buying, packing (for months) and moving to an incredible new HOUSE on Old Beach Glen Road.

But with all this going on, I caught the mileage fever and topped out at 75 miles while crazy Gary was regularaly hitting 80. Was I racing? Where’s the payoff? Hogwash! It's great to be alive and training OTHER people to race and run marathons. And occasionally 'getting involved' when someone makes a move in a long run and the Stevie gets going. OH SO GOOD - the feeling of finishing a long run and vegging out on brewskies while depleting totally, not eating till din-din. One meal a day isn’t healthy? No wonder I have ulcers.

With Don and Wendy on their own methodical, scientific plan geared towards the Jersey Shore Marathon, I started to think about it after pounding out SO many long runs. Why the heck NOT? Why 'waste' all that effort?

What helped me decide to some degree was actually two totally different but equally brutal runs in which I… SURVIVED. That is, hit the wall, and toughed it out.

One was the incredible  "power line" run  with web-guy (story another time, or check Gary’s account on Strider web site). Hot day, 2 ½ hours with the first two no water and the first 40 minutes of trails which even Gary might never want to repeat. At two hours, I was toasted to the point of begging. Finished the run.

Another, a 20+ with Wendy and Don starting totally spent from packing/moving, where I was basically dead at 12 and finished against my better instincts – finished strong, in fact, just impossible.

Still, this was not good enough to convince me to take the plunge AGAIN. I’ve sworn off doing marathons SO many times, including after the fiasco in NYC. Here’s one thing I’ve learned in running: When you say ‘I’d NEVER do that’, or ‘I’ll never do THAT again’ - you’re wrong. There will come a time when things will be different.

I determined, I wouldn’t preregister. I’d watch the weather; if hot, no stevie, my sweat glands excrete second only to my hairy brother. One+ weeks to go, and I still haven’t decided. Hmmm, what to do – IT COMES TO ME. With NO shorter distance races to go by, and being that the ONLY reason to try the big M would be to beat my PR (3:16:08) or to do the seemingly impossible and qualify for Boston (just 3:20 now that I'm an old guy). How do I know if I can do it?

????? WHAT ????

TIME TRIAL!!!! (my specialty). On the strider 13.1 mile Green Pond course. The Sunday before the marathon. Sub-Sevens or bust; or no marathon. Well, it was a scorcher (same day as Cherry Blossom 10K), and no one was there to ‘help me out’ (i.e. be a patsy). Bob Meade is there as the early Strider group finished up, and tries (in vain) to explain splits to me. Off I go on my solo journey. A fast first six, toughed the rest out, and with no splits, was astonished by my finish: 1:29:15. Really a huge run - YES, SOME OF MY FINEST AND MOST MEMORABLE RUNS ARE TIME TRIALS - on no speed or tempo, just distance and strength, and guess what Gary? IT COUNTS, DON’T TRY TO TELL ME IT DOESN’T. If nothing else goes right, I put one in the books, did something good this year.

So, I 'qualified'. No more excuses, just checking out the weather to. But, forecast is for 60s’, no 90’s/80’s – that’s the fini. Registered Tuesday.

Next, a BRILLIANT concept came to me, at some point. Pretend it's a TRAINING run; and run with Wendy. I ACE training runs, Wendy has NEVER run away from me in training. And yes, she does sub 3:10's for breakfast, did 3:05/:04 in NYC twice in a row, but then, she just ran a 43 min 10K. You couldn't PAY me to run that slow. She can’t be THAT much better in marathons, can she? Makes no sense. Make me a believer. In training, I'd do anything not to be dropped, and generally, wouldn't. So all I have to do is hypnotize myself into thinking we’re going down to the shore for a change of pace, and Wendy will decide to pick it up a little. (Sounds like a sure recipe for total blowup; try to stay with a born marathoner 1/2 hour better than you).

My possible alternate strategy: try to hang with the 3:15 ‘pacer (this marathon advertises ‘pacers’ to run even paces every 15 minutes starting at 3 hours) and when I die, die by less than five minutes. Wendy likes this idea too, but adds ‘until I feel like going faster’, and for some strange reason has the 3 hour and 3:10 schedule with her on race day.

My weight is good. Don’t want to bloat out before marathon. What shoes to wear????? A last minute quest for new shoes to replace my EXCELLENT but now almost gone Saucony Tayas, out of production. I buy eight pair of new shoes, ends up I don’t use any of'm, but decide on Saucony Grids old reliable, but they seem to be rubbing a bit.

4:45 wake-up. Now, its all - and I do mean absolutely ALL - about the potty stops. Sorry to get anal, but it’s what makes a great race for me or a disaster. I'm a basket case with my internal systems. It's my number one criteria for a well run race, outweighing all other factors put together.

The great: modern toilets in abundance, no lines, right at starting line. Probably doesn’t exist, does it? Sure it does, at UPS in Morristown. This allows for the chance, however rare, for a great potty stop right before race-time.

The good: short portajohn lines near starting line, three portas per line so my usual 10-15 minute pitstop doesn’t have the crowd calling for my execution.

The bad: see the good, but long potty lines, or far away from race start. THERE GOES THE WARMUP.

The ugly: see the bad, but two or – horror of horrors – ONE potty per line. I’m in mortal terror the whole time on the line, trying to prepare myself and time it right. But then nothing gets done once I finally get ONE shot at it. They’re out there… waiting…. waiting… angrier and angrier… oh well, time’s up, I give up. There goes my race.

The essential: a very-very last minute peestop (which I always find a way to do, I’m NOT bashful, it’s MY race).

All that being said, I won’t bore you with more of THAT. The arrangements at Shore were between good and bad and overall results in that area for me were just OK, about average. Wendy Don and I carpooled down to Long Branch together, did lotsa gatorade and a couple of gels. Got on a bus pretty quickly to take us to the start at Sandy Hook.Nice ride, you get a look at the course, I love the shore! A couple of hang ups getting onto sandy hook, and we get off the bus 35 minutes to go and now i'm very nervous - about the potty stop of course, but also about registering and getting my bag checked in with the transport trucks (which weren’t UPS brownies).

At the point of getting into race gear and giving in bag, comes the next earth-shaking moment. Find my pins, take off warmup pants under which I’m wearing the race shorts, put everything I won’t run in into bag, put pins on number, going to pin number on shorts. and.......

I'm standing there, in a big field of runners, 10 minutes to starting time. IN ..... MY..... UNDERWEAR. WHAT??????!@#$%^&*

And then I woke up from a runner’s worst nightmare, right? Nope.

First reaction, does anybody see the fool in his underwear? But immediately that becomes irrelevant. You've gotta be kidding, four months of hard training, 4 hour trip and preparation, and no shorts? Run in warmups, on a beautiful sunny take-off-shirt day? What to do: start screaming like a pathetic fool, does anybody have extra shorts? But wait, always pack a spare, but did I leave them in the other bag back in Long Branch??? Pleaaaaaasseeeeee.... look in bag, THERE!!!! Saved, put'm on, check in bag, ready to go. (Oh – good things come in threes or fours, this near disaster followed a lost and then found wallet, and two traffic tickets in a week which I negotiated down to driving without a seatbelt).

On starting line. find Wendy and Don, but we can't find the 3:15 pacer. So much the for number two strategy. A quick pee in bush (YES!), last minute gatorade, anthem. Really nice day - 60's.

Number one strategy, training, Wendy, foremost on my mind. Oh – splits, of course. We line up just a few rows back, and I’m a tiny in front of Wendy through first mile, can’t really see her. 7:20 - felt pretty good. Second mile very similar, picked it up a bit, 14:30 all systems definitely go. I still have a long sleeve shirt over singlet; the longer time I stay cool enough to keep this on, the better it will feel coming off. From this point on, I start to press a bit, 3:15 pace and all the rest is shot to hell. Right down to seven minute miles, and felt pretty good. Eva and I used to come a lot to Sandy Hook, did lots of running here, it’s really nice, just beaches and a quaint army base. Good stuff, this is fun, it’s easy, it’s exciting. Shoe rubbing just a bit. Wendy is there somewhere around five 35:40, says something like ‘right on pace’; this being suicide pace for me, of course. We think she’s fourth or fifth at this point. By six, I notice she doesn’t have HER long sleeve on and we’re running together at this point, I TOSS IT, feels good! I press a bit, and now I’m just ahead of her, and there are definitely some sub-sevens in here somewhere. This is fun! I’m high on life, keep it up, we always train this fast (NOT). Wendy says she’s doing a gel, but I wait a bit, sign of strength? A mile later, I do my first gel. Here’s the first sign of trouble – is it all mental? Wendy starts talking to a guy a few yards behind me. Come on, this isn’t THAT easy. I push a little bit more, it goes away, but a bit later I’m still hearing the YAKKING. This bothers me, I’m working a bit now, she’s not, I MAY not be in control here. 70:45 at 10 (!), pretty silly! But as we all know, time in the bank.

We go over bridge off Sandy Hook, now there’s a sleeveless muscleman racing me along the beach rocks. Good, let’s get it on. The occasional spectators are yelling… 10 seconds AFTER I pass them. Sure, they’re cheering for me, right? Don’t they know that the 100^th guy is running just as hard as the top women? At least this way I know where she is. Now it’s hard work. But I want to get a solid first half, just to say I did it, and know what my second half has to be – and to accumulate even more interest. Besides, she’s gonna hafta prove it to me. Just a training run. Noone drops Stevie.

After 12 I push it in for the half, she’s right behind me, I can hear. Get there in…. 1:32:30. Uhhhh 3:05 pace, merely 11 min better than PR. My very first marathon was 1:30 followed by 2:15 second half, but that’s a story that’s been told.

And then oh-so-quickly, as always is the case with my rebellious typical-male total-lack-of-slow-twitch muscled legs, the wall is with me. Now THAT was the first half. It was lotsa fun. It really was.

Wendy’s gone away, and now its old, its familiar, and it happens every single time. Downhill to meet my maker. It deteriorates with stunning rapidity. I’m taking my second gel, drinking powerade, and trying NOT to take my first walk. People I see and passed miles ago, sure, they were slow then, I was better, stronger and faster. Now they look like well conditioned supermen as they pass me (and when you get passed in a marathon like this, you KNOW that you will wind up an order-of-magnitude behind them). Men. Women. Old dudes (anything older than you is old, else its young by definition). If I don’t walk, I’ll still make it. It’s now the battle against the walk. Just keep running. It’s in your head.

OK, maybe a quick walk, through the water stop. That happens around 15 or so, on the road back thru Long Branch towards Deal. It’s now a pattern, run a mile, walk thru water stop, a deadly grind. I’ve been here so many times in EVERY one of my super-positive split marathons. What I think keeps me going now is 1) survived those nasty ones in training 2) did more hard work this winter than usual, but mostly 3) having a mind like a calculator, only nine minute miles (+ some) required to get me next 11 miles under 3:20, then 10.2 (at 16 miles).

Now it’s really getting ugly, I’m wearing down. One water stop I get a second wind. Which lasts a half+ mile then tough it out till next water stop. See Wendy coming back towards me (course does 180 mini-loop somewhere ahead), she roots me on, I wonder how far ahead she is and subconsciously notice no women ahead of her. A left turn towards the ocean for the loop around and back, and now it’s ridiculous, around 18, a brutal fight to stay on pace, I’ve tried all my life to qualify, it’s not over till I really walk for more than a few seconds.

I take good notice of all those who pass me now with envy; just real marathoners who knew their own pace and ability, no fakers. One guy I get pleasure from, he’s hit the wall (he freely admits to anyone who wants to listen) and I manage to leave him behind.

I get lightheaded somewhere around 19, and my ulcer-ridden tummy hits me hard too. The dizzy head-busting pressure is what I encountered for the first and only other time in Red Rock Canyon at altitude (gee that sounds impressive) in Las Vegas when I almost died on a run, walking miles in a desert – oh yeah, that’s another story too.

Somewhere around 20 I mentally turn a corner. It’s not getting worse, just very very hard work, the legs are shot, but they’re moving on their own, and still need only nine+ min miles, and I’m heading BACK up toward the finish the same way I saw Wendy. And now what actually helps my fragile psyche is I see Don (at about 22) coming towards me, yes as 20 minutes ago I came towards Wendy, and he says ‘you’re still on pace’; suddenly, I know he may be right, I haven’t walked yet, and may not have to.

Well now, NOW I can taste it, and I start getting emotional. Anyone who’s done the big M knows they get ya every time. Tears in my eyes. No, save that, concentrate, tough, tough. Suddenly, everything helps me get through it. spectators, music, digitil clocks, water stops, two guys running together one says ‘just a jog to finish’ – it all helps, I’m within range. Turn west off the shore, and I pass the talking guys.

With less than 1 to go, Bob Price (alias wolfhound, now probably living the typical shore party life) kibbitzing on the sidelines says go stevie and half-heartedly starts running with me. I’m having more trouble now and not sure this will help. He gives up on it. Actually, very tough last mile, I’m calculating, again, no stoppie, no stoppie. Getting the proverbial ‘one more turn’ call from the volunteers is ALWAYS a good thing. Now having been told it ends on the HS track, I get confused; is it a full lap (2+ minutes), and 3:20 still in doubt???? Suddenly pass the guy I know (but forgot name of), it’s Rich Macko, he says Hi Steve and grabs my hand. Good, I like that, pass him. I’m coming into the infield, on dirt (the change of surface signifies the end, how SWEET it is), Wendy is there – a big boost, ‘your best marathon’ (well, almost) and here’s the track – and THE CLOCK wowwwww, 3:17:48 big push excellent finishing under 3:18. Insanely good. Only thing better would be a PR.

Drop to my knees – the usual volunteer-scaring Stevie dropsky, which means once I’m done, standing is too much of an effort. Volunteers all over me, Macko right behind me – the backwards grab is next. (Shake hands). EXCELLENT.

Nothing better than a good race. Leaves a glow, you bask. The bigger the race, the better the high. Of course, can’t wait to ‘share’ my success. Forget getting a drink or whatever. I always forget that maybe not everybody feels the same way, like at Midland if you DIDN’T run great and get subjected to a whole bloody afternoon of recaps by the happy guys’ drunken reveling in their own prowess. Again, too damned bad, I paid my dues and earned it. So I go to find Wendy. Big hug, and I remember to ask how SHE did. Oh, she just won in PR 3:04:02, with a minute + negative split, running net seven minute miles. Not actually a surprise. Now how must THAT feel? Wendy, article please? (maybe somewhat less verbose)

Haven’t written a lot, but I must be a frustrated writer and it takes something special to get me going.

I had a great recovery this week; Monday knee was killing me and I was worried, but did a mile to keep my streak. Then Tuesday, 6.5 legs tight, but I knew then that the recovery would be fast. Another lucky break! Wed 8.2, Thurs 10 moderate. But here’s the thing; I was convinced that I was now more race-ready in the sense that I had a muscle-memory of 12 miles of agony, and if you can go through that, it would pay off in toughness on a shorter race. I preannounced a good race at the Applechase 10K and decided to actually do it just yesterday morning (but needless to say had a great fallback excuse racing six days after a marathon). Just like I thought, just had to endure maybe a little sharper pain, but for a whole lot less time. A screaming (well, maybe whispering, 39:45 not screaming by former standards, but just off my best in last several years) success. Then an hour of trails that afternoon with Gary and good Sunday nine miler with Ken and the boys Sunday, and I’m good as new. And this time I haven’t sworn off another marathon. Ken wondered this morning how it’s possible to run (like Wendy did) sevens for a whole 26 miles (yes Gary, you can tell us it’s possible to run 5:10’s); and I thought, it IS within the realm of imagination, if only fantasy. But NOT without a focused group of training partners doing heavy mileage and long runs, and more training than I’ve ever done in my life. Too bad it’s 5K season. We’ll see what comes.

I guess my recovery isn't as special as I thought - Wendy and Don both ran good five mile races Sunday after Shore. And then raced 5K’s the Wednesday after that.

Gary says I gotta write an article for the newsletter, now that he’s in charge.  { Gary's the Web maniac/editor for the new website at morriscountystriders.com. Gene is the newsletter editor. Ed's note} Who’s gonna argue with a running partner. So, y’all can decide whether my writing’s any better than my ‘telling’ (e.g. the last Striders holiday party).

Always best to talk about the present (not that my past is filled with running triumphs, aka Mr. Olympic Trials). Where I am is still… searching for that elusive PR. Thanks to my detailed running log containing intimate details of every run I’ve done almost since I started (first race in 1987), computerized in MS Access with full search and query capabilities, I can easily spout statistics of my top 10 5ks, or all runs with Gary, or all runs on the Strider Sunday course, etc. So now I looked it up. My last PR was 10/25/97 Dover 5K 17:53, a race Gary was ‘pacing’ me in (he helped a little). A good season apparently – before that, 9/30/97 Harvest Festival 5K PR in 17:54, Liberty Half 9/1/97 1:24:25, two other PRs that year and one at Picatinny 10M in Dec. 1996. The closest I’ve come to PR nirvana since is a 5:15 ‘training’ mile on the track 3/29/98 with Gary helping on 1^st and 3^rd quarter. I remember clearly what he said after this time-trail effort: it (a sub-5:14 PR) is in the bag, if you can do this in early season, without specific training. We didn’t do the training, I didn’t improve on that mile.

Bulletin: Steve comes close to PR on April 23rd Sunday Run: Fisher Does it Again!

How can I be thinking (absurdly, it seems) PR at my unseemly age (43)? Simple – I started running way late, comparatively. Not till well after my college days. Fairly recently, March through May 1999 saw my second lifetime injury, a nasty Achilles Tendon (I had no idea what that was until it broke) which sidelined a promising start to the year (63:12 Chillout 10M, 45 secs off PR pace). Having previously (after my first injury) vowed to crosstrain like an animal if I ever got injured, I didn’t – and lost all fitness. It seemed over – after months of therapy at Health South, I still couldn’t run, and basically gave up on the therapy. Then… it got better – a miracle. Balance came back into my life. PR’s were not as important as the joy of building up my mileage, doing insane long runs, hanging and running with my running friends (my only friends), restoring the balance between exercise and consumption of the spirits.

This past winter was good. Lots of mileage, long training weekends. Suddenly, a new development. My new wife (lucky her) is in the shape of her life (I won’t let her edit that out). She’s kicking ass. She’s in PR shape at 40. Now, the ultimate running couple’s race experience is simultaneous PR’s. That has happened for us – I believe way back in 1991. But for me, watching her set new marks has been great. So this year, we decided for both her and the Strider’s masters women’s team to do the circuit. In a word, we’re race happy in a way not seen for many a moon. We’re talking field trips to the shore. Doubles on a weekend.

This weekend, our first ‘double’. Saturday, the Spring Stampede in Denville, Sunday the Parsippany Contact 5K. We did them. Which in case you’re wondering is what this article is about (sounds like a line from Alice’s restaurant). (Oh yes - next weekend we’ve got Mountain Challenge 15K x-country and Cherry Blossom 10K back-to-back)

To diverge – those of you who know me and my running ways affectionately dub me ‘Mr. Training’, a man who is extra careful to go all out to beat his training partners while leaving his worst efforts for races, especially the big ones. Witness the Strider Sunday runs. 9 mile time trials extraordinaire. This was bred into me way back to the RVRR days, racing my good buddies in their regular training runs and excursions to Jockey Hollow and such. To those of you who say training times don’t count, I say, eat my shorts.

Getting back to racing. Ya train long, ya race long, and it hurts – but in a good way. That’s what Eva and I started with, three long races (you know what they were), and they turned out OK for me, minutes off my best, but respectable, in distant range of PR’s, and sort of fun. You don’t go anaerobic in 10M-1/2 marathon, you can enjoy the scenery. But… suddenly, spring is here, and a couple of things have changed. I have a new baby training partner at work who is half my age and twice as fast, forcing me to actually do some tempo runs. Good training for short distance, but came too late for that first 5K.

That BIG, IMPORTANT, MASTER’S CHAMPIONSHIP 5k. With everybody showing, even including my boss Chuck Astor who is another of a long list of rivals who are just itching to whip me (in my own deluded mindset). So, I set up some expectations. 18:34 my best 5K of 1999. Six minute pace with well under six first miler my good goal. Sub-19 minutes my acceptable goal. Beating Joe Sikora, with whom I’ve recently had some epic duels, beating Chuck (they have a field day with our rivalry at work), and placing well in Striders while beating a few unnamed regulars a sub-goal. Oh- lest I forget, the RVRR rivals including nemesis Doug Brown and Chris Lehman, and Jen Stachula (getting beaten by certain women is a whole new bag to me – the ego thing is left for another story) are here in force. But the pressure, heat and late start have me feeling really crappy in the warmup. I should have known. Out in 5:50 (hey – that’s a positive I take away from this), but I’m faking it, it’s the bad thing. Now I have to let Joe go, Chuck passes me, I’m with Charlie Castiglioni and pass Chris (faking it worse now), but the little voice in my head says, this pain is not worth it. Voice gets too loud. No excuses. Gary later tells me that Iquit AFTER two miles, which I didn’t know about. Wimp – couldn’t hold off for a mile or less? I pull off lame, wait around on the course, finish up with Eva, but whatever – it’s a DNF, my second 5K DNF but a mental lapse of the first order, in a word disgraceful. I even tried to talk Eva in quitting when she pulled over for a second with cramps. Sad. Looking back, I’ve got the base, but not the speed training, I suck in heat. Race over, time to sulk. Which I’m good at.

OK – second race of the weekend – Contact 5K. Nice and early start – 9AM. Even without the absurd weather conditions, comic relief. Heck, we’re too old for doubles, aren’t we? It’s the lowest of low-key races, the opposite of pressure. And it’s a 35 mph windstorm combined with a blizzard – did anybody else run on Sunday? Of course, all thoughts of PR’s or times in general are not on the radar. We call – sorry, the race is NOT cancelled. Will anybody be there – hopefully not, maybe Eva wins and 500 points. A pretty small field (apx 70 stalwarts) are there. I’m bundled up, and in lightweight training shoes instead of flats. And the icy storm feels great. Mini-warmup feels good; I tell Eva, I’m going for it. Haven’t run in these insane conditions in a race in ages. I WONT DNF two in a row – that’s extra motivation.

We start facing the blizzard, and the race is delayed, just to ice us over a bit. We’re off, and I’m with the leaders. This doesn’t happen – to me. In a quarter mile, I’m STILL with the leaders, including Charlie Slaughter, a first-order rival. Then, I somehow leave him behind and there’s a few ahead of me, but very few. Never see a split time. No way to draft – I’m alone. Turnaround at 1 mile, suddenly with the galeforce wind at my back, and absolutely floating, slight downhill. Long strides. Two I can see out ahead of me, I think there’s another ahead of them but not sure. See Eva coming other way, battling Jane Parks. Now I’m looking for the turnback into a wind, long time in coming, the boys ahead of me are pulling further ahead. At the final turnaround, I’m still OK, ready mentally for the final ¾ mile into the gust, and I see there’s someone not too far back. Last part is tough – but it’s the good pain, the on-the-edge-but-not-over pain, checking behind me, he’s gaining, but I hold him off. Third. Ya gotta be kidding.

Great effort. I’m on top of the world. What a difference a day makes. OK – I bask for a while, but NOW what I gotta know is – what does my time mean? 19:46. What is the EQUIVALENT? I’m sure, sub-19. Hey look, ma, I can still run under 19 if you believe that. Jane beats Eva, 1:15 slower than yesterday. Eva is 55 secs slower than yesterday. Charlie is minute slower. Later I call the race director to E-mail results, so I can figure everybody in both races, and really prove my point.

Well, there it is folks. Rantings of a disturbed individual. Any volunteers for our training cadre? Gary has personally mapped out some off-road specials; please sign release form first.
(and I thought Bruce was verbose...ed.)