I recently ran into this article on Pinterest about Fit People. I thought I would share. Also, what is the proper term for finding something on Pinterest? You Stumble Upon stuff, but that term is reserved for stumbleupon, right?
http://12most.com/2011/10/21/12-fundamental-habits-super-fit/
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Antelope Island 50K/100K Nov 5th, 2011
Saturday, November 5th, 2011 marked the last race of the season for me and victory in several ways at the Antelope Island 50k/100K. It was the first big snow storm of the season, 20-30 degrees, with 50 mph winds on the island. I had to be there before sunrise, and it was a huge win for me personally to get my ass out of the door and then out of my car once on the island. Second, this was the longest distance I had done since I sprianed my ankle back in August, and the biggest trail race I had done since. I had recently completed the St. George (road) Marathon, followed by the Mountain View Trail Half Marathon. But, this was a 50K. Was my ankle going to snap again? Would I have to hobble 20 miles to get help in the snow amidst the Buffalo?
Aaannnyway - Obviously it didn't. I showed up. I ran. I took it easy and hiked the uphills. I suffered through the Never Ending Uphill (next to Speedgoat and Logan Peak) and put my head down against the driving winds and freezing precip. It was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. I said "HI" to Tony at Elephant Head Aid Station. He asked about Ryan, who was at home in bed. I can't lie, this only made me feel tougher.
I said "HI" to Olaf and Joe at the next stop after a fast downhill. They too, asked about Ryan. I got to see the back of the island I had never been to. It was strangely beautiful. The lighting on the island plays tricks on you.
Disclaimer: sorry about this next part. I had to pee so bad, and it was too cold to find a rock or a bush to pee behind. This resulted in a bad stomach ache. Coming off of the horrible hill climb was the greatest aid station ever. I drank hot broth and had some potatoes. It was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten in my life. Starting out of the aid station was also the coldest I had ever been in my life.
I finally made it to the downhill, and found I was moving pretty slow on it. "That's OK, I'll recover" I said. And I did. Eventually. It took a lot of shuffling, and I began to sing out loud to my iPod (New Justice Album, thank you very much). I made it to 9 mile aid station and realized I was not that far behind some of the people who had passed me on the uphill. But, it was getting dark. "I must be really far behind schedule", I thought.
I began to move faster and feel better. As I got closer to the Fraery Peak trail head, I looked up and saw a figure on the summit. "I wonder if that is Ryan up there watching me run?" (it was)
The next aid station was a life saver. First - There was a porta-potty. Finally! Second, there were 3 people there resting. Bonus! I left the aid station and passed these three which made me feel so much better. Then I began to really move. I never stopped running, and without realizing it, I was running all the uphills. That's not saying much since the hills at this part are easy. But after 20-something miles in the snow, it was nice. I caught the two men in red coats that had passed me early on. I passed three more people. Then two more (who might have just been hikers).
The last mile was tough. It was a big climb and I kept expecting to see the finish. When I finally got there, I saw Ryan cheering me in. I didn't even check my time, figuring it was really late. Jim, the RD, congratulated me and I ran in and laid down on the dirt floor. Ryan got me some blankets and an extra coat, some hot chocolate and soup. I got a beer too. We hung out for a while chatting with other runners, until I was ready to fall asleep. When I got in my car to go, I realized it was just after 4:00 pm. What? Does this mean I beat 8 hours? Does it mean I might have had a PR? Well, I sort of did. Not by much, but a win is a win.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Running Lesson: Give People and Dogs a Second Chance
Today I woke up at 3:00 am to go run a marathon. I didn't end up going, but I woke up and had all of my stuff ready. The problem was, I dreamed that my husband and I decided not to run it and instead hiked to a peak. I was so tired and worried about the run, I decided to sleep in.
To be honest, I just didn't want to deal with the hills. I'd be starting 3 hours early with one other person and I wasn't sure I could keep up. For an unsupported run, with no course markings, starting in the dark, the probability of getting lost was huge. I had already talked myself out of it, and felt great going back to bed.
When I finally did get up, I decided to do a 7 mile training run from Eastern Mountain Wilderness Park to Fernwood and back. It's a hilly trail with a few dips into the streams and cooler canyons along the mountains. I set out and had a good start. I had my new water bottle that was actually keeping the ice in my drink frozen, my iPod decided to work today and I felt good - not too sore from the trail 10K I did yesterday, the Farmington Festival Days Flag Rock 10K.
About a half mile from the turn around, I came across a young man with special needs and his companion. As I approached, the man held out his arm, and I took off my ear buds. The lady with him, wearing her hair in shocking red dreadlocks, asked me if I would kindly shake his hand and say "hello". I took his hand and said "hi". Immediately, the young man pressed his eyes closed and yelled out a panicked "NOOOO!" He began to repeat this and each time he did he'd squeeze my hand - hard. Not hard enough to hurt me, but enough to make me worry that this might end badly for us. She apologized and he eventually let go of my hand. She said "I'm sorry, he's autistic". I smiled and continued on. Just before the turn around, was another woman companion with an autistic young man. He was sitting with his feet in the creek and as I ran past, he took a handful of rocks and threw them across the trail. One hit me in the leg and I ran on, weirded out but thirsty and ready to hit the water fountain at the turn around.
As I started filling up my lovely new bottle, a large creepy insect squirmed out of the faucet! "WTH? Did that just happen?" I poured out my water and thought "Oooo - kay. I don't need water for the last 3.5". As I started back, I began thinking about the strange encounters I had had on my run. What a weird day. But then, it made me think about the encounters people must have when they meet my dog, Sprocket.
Sprocket is a mountain Chihuahua. A fierce 5 pounds of white fury and he's sometimes aggressive. He'll occasionally let people pet him, but he's unpredictable and can snap at people and dogs. I don't let him near small kids. How funny, I thought. My Dog Sprocket is like the autistic man I met on the trail. As I passed the young man throwing rocks this time, I slowed and waited for him to throw the rocks again, which he did. Then his companion helped him to his feet and they walked away. As I continued on it was beginning to get hot. I was trying to convince myself I really didn't need water. I had had 21 ounces, and was only going 7 miles, I should be OK. I can cool off in the creek ahead. As I rounded a corner, there again was the young man and is red headed companion. I stopped ahead of them and stepped off the trail so they could go by. This time, however, the young man came up to me again, excited, and held out his hand with an "H"-ey "Hiiiiiiii". I took his hand again and he shook it, repeating "Hi". His companion said "Thank you so much, he thinks you're pretty". I was flattered. I know I am not pretty when I run. I am a mess. I patted his shoulder and went on my way, thinking once again about my dog. He's been known to snap and then later accept someone and go up with tail wagging ready to meet them. It might be fear. It might be that he just has trouble communicating. But this is his reality, just like the young man's.
I decided it's always best to give people - and dogs - a second chance.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
2011 racing
So far this year, I have hit up some of my old favorite races and tried a few new ones.
The race year started as per normal in February with the Moab Red Hot. I did the 33K option this year and beat my time from the first year by over 40 minutes. My strategy this year was just to run, and keep running. Even if it was slow, even if it was a shuffle. I surprised myself by jogging a lot of the uphill, which normally I would walk - probably because I am lazy, but I would tell myself it was because I could hike faster than I could run an uphill, or because I was conserving energy. Not true. In fact, I think I spend less energy on a light jog uphill than a slow slog that ends up looking more like lunges. I love this race.
I gave everything I had in March at the Buffalo 25K. I ran the downhills as hard and fast as I could. I felt like death after the race, and it took a month before I could run downhill like that again. I beat my first year again by 40 ish minutes. I started to see a trend that I am knocking 20 minutes off each year. Hopefully I can keep this up.
I did the Gib Wallace 10K in Ogden, in a snow storm. The snow actually was amazing. It was so pretty and fun to run through. It was a great N.U.T.S. event and I passed people - me!
I also got to do the Steeplechase this year. However, there was so much snow on the course, they had to reroute it on the opposite side of the canyon to Dude Peak. I think it might have been harder. It was essentially like the BoSho marathon, endless climbs, just endless. I still am not sure what my final time was but it was just under 14 miles with about 4,o00 feet of climbing. I actually passed folks on this one too. Not very many, but hey, I guess trying just a little harder might actually have something to it.
This year I also started doing crossfit. I'm not sure if it is helping my training, I am often too sore to do a long run, and dead tired after work. But its given me some perspective that making it hurt won't kill me. I can push myself harder, I can run through pain and not die. It's also transforming me little. I have been afraid to weigh myself, because I fear I may weigh more, but I think I'm becoming more compact. I'm impressed how many muscles you forget to use when you run, but that you can use to run harder if you have them (abs, hips, certain legs muscles I guess were asleep when I raced before, arms and shoulders).
Next up is Logan Peak. My goal is to shave another 20 minutes off and come in just under 8 hours. I know I can do it. I didn't sign up for Speedgoat this year as I was tired of having it hang over my head all season long. I asked Karl Meltzer to reverse the course starting in Mineral Basin (like it was 3 years ago) but he said he'd only do it for $100,000. Since I don't have that, I decided not to run it. It gets harder every year, the mileage before the cutoff increases, and I needed a year off to do races that won't get pulled from.
The race year started as per normal in February with the Moab Red Hot. I did the 33K option this year and beat my time from the first year by over 40 minutes. My strategy this year was just to run, and keep running. Even if it was slow, even if it was a shuffle. I surprised myself by jogging a lot of the uphill, which normally I would walk - probably because I am lazy, but I would tell myself it was because I could hike faster than I could run an uphill, or because I was conserving energy. Not true. In fact, I think I spend less energy on a light jog uphill than a slow slog that ends up looking more like lunges. I love this race.
I gave everything I had in March at the Buffalo 25K. I ran the downhills as hard and fast as I could. I felt like death after the race, and it took a month before I could run downhill like that again. I beat my first year again by 40 ish minutes. I started to see a trend that I am knocking 20 minutes off each year. Hopefully I can keep this up.
I did the Gib Wallace 10K in Ogden, in a snow storm. The snow actually was amazing. It was so pretty and fun to run through. It was a great N.U.T.S. event and I passed people - me!
I also got to do the Steeplechase this year. However, there was so much snow on the course, they had to reroute it on the opposite side of the canyon to Dude Peak. I think it might have been harder. It was essentially like the BoSho marathon, endless climbs, just endless. I still am not sure what my final time was but it was just under 14 miles with about 4,o00 feet of climbing. I actually passed folks on this one too. Not very many, but hey, I guess trying just a little harder might actually have something to it.
This year I also started doing crossfit. I'm not sure if it is helping my training, I am often too sore to do a long run, and dead tired after work. But its given me some perspective that making it hurt won't kill me. I can push myself harder, I can run through pain and not die. It's also transforming me little. I have been afraid to weigh myself, because I fear I may weigh more, but I think I'm becoming more compact. I'm impressed how many muscles you forget to use when you run, but that you can use to run harder if you have them (abs, hips, certain legs muscles I guess were asleep when I raced before, arms and shoulders).
Next up is Logan Peak. My goal is to shave another 20 minutes off and come in just under 8 hours. I know I can do it. I didn't sign up for Speedgoat this year as I was tired of having it hang over my head all season long. I asked Karl Meltzer to reverse the course starting in Mineral Basin (like it was 3 years ago) but he said he'd only do it for $100,000. Since I don't have that, I decided not to run it. It gets harder every year, the mileage before the cutoff increases, and I needed a year off to do races that won't get pulled from.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Logan Peak Trail Run - 28 miles
I just completed the Logan Peak Trail Run on June 26th, my second time running this race and I fully recommend it.
The race is exceptionally well managed, and the runners are very well taken care of. The course takes you up through Logan dry canyon, along the synch line and up to Logan Peak (9700 ft), then down, around the other side of the mountain and back to dry canyon. It offers some of the most beautiful views of Cache Valley and takes you on some serious technical trails and killer climbs.
This year, I broke a lot of rules for running. First, I got a new pair of shoes in the mail the day before the race....and wore them. I'd never even tried them on, and they were a different model than I usually wear. Second, I decided to try a whole slew of new energy replacements along the course. Third, I held nothing back and ran as hard and fast as I could when I could, instead of conserving for the long run.
Wow! What a difference. The shoes - La Sportiva Crosslites - were a-maz-ing. The energy gels (natural stingers, honey gels and chews) soooo good. Not to mention the coca cola and fruit at the aid stations. And the running, I don't know what happened after I got down from the big climb to Logan Peak, because this was my slowest section last year, but I went crazy. I got some crazy burst of energy, my ipod played the best power songs, and I started passing people and flew threw the trees like a crazy person.
The climbs were still slow, and I got passed a lot on those. This race has some serious hill work. But the downhills and flats were so much fun. I went into the race not knowing where my fitness level was really at and I planned on using it to gauge how well I might do at Speedgoat. I beat last year's time by 20 minutes, and would have probably done better but I had a hard time on the last 2 miles. I ran into a heard of cows, really, in the forest, got to talk to some great runners along the course, and exceeded my expectations of my ability.
The race is exceptionally well managed, and the runners are very well taken care of. The course takes you up through Logan dry canyon, along the synch line and up to Logan Peak (9700 ft), then down, around the other side of the mountain and back to dry canyon. It offers some of the most beautiful views of Cache Valley and takes you on some serious technical trails and killer climbs.
This year, I broke a lot of rules for running. First, I got a new pair of shoes in the mail the day before the race....and wore them. I'd never even tried them on, and they were a different model than I usually wear. Second, I decided to try a whole slew of new energy replacements along the course. Third, I held nothing back and ran as hard and fast as I could when I could, instead of conserving for the long run.
Wow! What a difference. The shoes - La Sportiva Crosslites - were a-maz-ing. The energy gels (natural stingers, honey gels and chews) soooo good. Not to mention the coca cola and fruit at the aid stations. And the running, I don't know what happened after I got down from the big climb to Logan Peak, because this was my slowest section last year, but I went crazy. I got some crazy burst of energy, my ipod played the best power songs, and I started passing people and flew threw the trees like a crazy person.
The climbs were still slow, and I got passed a lot on those. This race has some serious hill work. But the downhills and flats were so much fun. I went into the race not knowing where my fitness level was really at and I planned on using it to gauge how well I might do at Speedgoat. I beat last year's time by 20 minutes, and would have probably done better but I had a hard time on the last 2 miles. I ran into a heard of cows, really, in the forest, got to talk to some great runners along the course, and exceeded my expectations of my ability.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Half way to go to Speedgoat
I have a little over 3 months to go until the Speedgoat 50K this year, which is being held July 31st at Snowbird resort. It will probably be the hottest day of the year.
I just looked up my race entry on the site, and noticed that ultrasignup.com is now ranking you based on past race finishes. I am ranked 55%. Does this mean I have a little more than 50% chance probability that I will finish this year? Does it mean I am actually in the middle of the pack?
Who knows. I don't have killer training yet under my belt that makes me feel confident. I still don't wake up and run before, during, and after work....
Maybe I can turn it around this weekend....
I just looked up my race entry on the site, and noticed that ultrasignup.com is now ranking you based on past race finishes. I am ranked 55%. Does this mean I have a little more than 50% chance probability that I will finish this year? Does it mean I am actually in the middle of the pack?
Who knows. I don't have killer training yet under my belt that makes me feel confident. I still don't wake up and run before, during, and after work....
Maybe I can turn it around this weekend....
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Moab's Red Hot 50K +
I have been avoiding reporting on this race for some time. The Moab Red Hot 50K + is 34 miles in the Slick rock country of Utah, running on extremely insane hills from the Gemini Bridges trail head and finishing beyond the petrified sand dunes to the bottom of the Poison Spider trail head. This was my favorite race last year, when I did the 20 mile option. But this year was different.
A record amount of snowfall in southern Utah left about a foot of sugary, sandy snow on the trail. One woman I met called it Snand. It was unpackable, and made the climbing extra hard. Ironically, this year's race day seemed hotter than last years, and I was taking off layers after the first few miles. Grossly under prepared for the distance, I quickly fell to the back of the pack. My one goal - not to finish last - was only briefly abated when I managed to come across one or two sad looking runners within the first 10 miles of the course. All of these runners looked like serious athletes that were really having a hard time with the course conditions.
I ran on, beginning to feel good after about 14 miles of misery, until I started the long climb to the 4th aid station at the top of Gold Bar Rim. Along the climb, I passed a row of trucks blocking the path. I didn't realize it, but these guys were supposed to turn back runners after the cut off. They never said anything to me, nor offered any water, and I had no idea they were with the race. Undeterred, I hiked up and up until I came to the aid station. The volunteers were just packing up ready to go, two men in two off road vehicles that had run out of water, and warned me that the last aid station (number 5) probably didn't have any water either. The 5 or 6 of us at the aid station were dejected, but didn't really have much of a choice but to go on. The jeeps could only take 2 of us back, and they carted off a young man who was puking his guts out, and a pretty lady who had had enough. So, I ran on.
I packed my water bottle with what I hoped was clean snow and waited for it to melt. Along the way, I told myself I would be OK. But I couldn't clear my head. I constantly thought of work. I thought about getting lost forever in the desert. My thoughts turned very dark...perhaps a result of the desert around me which seemed to have its own personality. It must have been in a dark mood itself, and I was unable to stay positive. During my trek, I was passed by the other runners from the last aid station. They would disappear immediately from my view, and one runner - who I never saw pass me, ended up miles ahead of me somehow. I was completely alone in the middle of no where, miles and miles away from any road or any people in every direction.
Eventually I would run out of clean snow to melt and I stopped eating or drinking. I just needed to make it to the last aid station, at which point I would ask them to cart me to the finish if they had run out of water as well. As I hiked, I began to see unusual things around me....dead trees that looked like monsters, rocks that I swore were snowmen complete with scarves and coal for eyes. And also, a young man reading a book and wearing old fashioned clothes, who appeared out of no where, walking past me and then disappearing from view. I know that this man (ghost? hallucination?) talked to me and said hello, but I have no idea where he came from, or where he went.
Having run the course the year before, I had an idea of where the last aid station was supposed to be. And when I got there, all I could see where tire tracks in the mud and snow. I assumed they had left me in the desert alone, and instantly lost all hope or ambition. I trudged along, trying not to cry as it began to get dark. As I got to about 2 miles from the finish, a man and his son waiting in a truck greeted me and said that they were, in fact, the lost aid station. The icy conditions on the course were too unsafe for them to drive. The young boy handed me his personal water bottle and they offered to drive me in. Not wanting to quit so close to the end I shook my head and stubbornly decided to keep going, running, shuffling, and walking into the finish. When I made it in, the race director and my husband were waiting. I was the last official finisher. They handed me a beer, and some hot soup.
I know that I had lost the battle before it began. And, I'm not sure why. I guess attitude has a lot to do with it. I was angry about the race, angry that I was without water for about 15 miles. Angry that the course beat me up. Angry that the course markers were so hard to follow, and that after running 32 miles, an aid station was planned for just 2 miles ahead of the finish. But I would learn later that a young woman from Colorado had had a very different experience than I did. She came in 4th place in her division, running the 20 mile option, and celebrated with her 3 friends who came out to run with her. She must have enjoyed the race very much - she loved to run, and she was very good at it. On the way home, her car was involved in a horrific accident, probably about the same time that I crossed the finish line, and she passed away. Newly married and devoted to helping people, her life was cut short. And yet, she made the most of her time on the trail while I wallowed in self pity and misery.
I have been uncomfortable about this because I know that running is important to me. I had planned on writing about all the things that went wrong about the race planning. But when it came down to it: the volunteers never left me. The first few aid stations (which only the 50Kers used, and both groups used the last two) were well prepared, but the last two simply ran out of supplies. And, the volunteers waited for me at the finish well into dusk. Besides - this was an ultra. No one was gonna let a foot of snow cancel the race.
I don't want to end up letting whatever darkness or depression I have inside of me infect what I do this way ever again. Running can be such an amazing experience. It can challenge you beyond your limits, and it can be very positive. What a waste it was for that woman to die, but at least she was able to enjoy doing something she loved with friends on her last day here. Strangely, I went to Moab with the strange feeling that I could die there. I know that sounds dark, but it is a weird place. It had been a long winter and I had not trained very well. But I would inevitably make it to the finish line. And I would run my next race harder than before. And the next one after that. And so on. Until I can no longer do it.
A record amount of snowfall in southern Utah left about a foot of sugary, sandy snow on the trail. One woman I met called it Snand. It was unpackable, and made the climbing extra hard. Ironically, this year's race day seemed hotter than last years, and I was taking off layers after the first few miles. Grossly under prepared for the distance, I quickly fell to the back of the pack. My one goal - not to finish last - was only briefly abated when I managed to come across one or two sad looking runners within the first 10 miles of the course. All of these runners looked like serious athletes that were really having a hard time with the course conditions.
I ran on, beginning to feel good after about 14 miles of misery, until I started the long climb to the 4th aid station at the top of Gold Bar Rim. Along the climb, I passed a row of trucks blocking the path. I didn't realize it, but these guys were supposed to turn back runners after the cut off. They never said anything to me, nor offered any water, and I had no idea they were with the race. Undeterred, I hiked up and up until I came to the aid station. The volunteers were just packing up ready to go, two men in two off road vehicles that had run out of water, and warned me that the last aid station (number 5) probably didn't have any water either. The 5 or 6 of us at the aid station were dejected, but didn't really have much of a choice but to go on. The jeeps could only take 2 of us back, and they carted off a young man who was puking his guts out, and a pretty lady who had had enough. So, I ran on.
I packed my water bottle with what I hoped was clean snow and waited for it to melt. Along the way, I told myself I would be OK. But I couldn't clear my head. I constantly thought of work. I thought about getting lost forever in the desert. My thoughts turned very dark...perhaps a result of the desert around me which seemed to have its own personality. It must have been in a dark mood itself, and I was unable to stay positive. During my trek, I was passed by the other runners from the last aid station. They would disappear immediately from my view, and one runner - who I never saw pass me, ended up miles ahead of me somehow. I was completely alone in the middle of no where, miles and miles away from any road or any people in every direction.
Eventually I would run out of clean snow to melt and I stopped eating or drinking. I just needed to make it to the last aid station, at which point I would ask them to cart me to the finish if they had run out of water as well. As I hiked, I began to see unusual things around me....dead trees that looked like monsters, rocks that I swore were snowmen complete with scarves and coal for eyes. And also, a young man reading a book and wearing old fashioned clothes, who appeared out of no where, walking past me and then disappearing from view. I know that this man (ghost? hallucination?) talked to me and said hello, but I have no idea where he came from, or where he went.
Having run the course the year before, I had an idea of where the last aid station was supposed to be. And when I got there, all I could see where tire tracks in the mud and snow. I assumed they had left me in the desert alone, and instantly lost all hope or ambition. I trudged along, trying not to cry as it began to get dark. As I got to about 2 miles from the finish, a man and his son waiting in a truck greeted me and said that they were, in fact, the lost aid station. The icy conditions on the course were too unsafe for them to drive. The young boy handed me his personal water bottle and they offered to drive me in. Not wanting to quit so close to the end I shook my head and stubbornly decided to keep going, running, shuffling, and walking into the finish. When I made it in, the race director and my husband were waiting. I was the last official finisher. They handed me a beer, and some hot soup.
I know that I had lost the battle before it began. And, I'm not sure why. I guess attitude has a lot to do with it. I was angry about the race, angry that I was without water for about 15 miles. Angry that the course beat me up. Angry that the course markers were so hard to follow, and that after running 32 miles, an aid station was planned for just 2 miles ahead of the finish. But I would learn later that a young woman from Colorado had had a very different experience than I did. She came in 4th place in her division, running the 20 mile option, and celebrated with her 3 friends who came out to run with her. She must have enjoyed the race very much - she loved to run, and she was very good at it. On the way home, her car was involved in a horrific accident, probably about the same time that I crossed the finish line, and she passed away. Newly married and devoted to helping people, her life was cut short. And yet, she made the most of her time on the trail while I wallowed in self pity and misery.
I have been uncomfortable about this because I know that running is important to me. I had planned on writing about all the things that went wrong about the race planning. But when it came down to it: the volunteers never left me. The first few aid stations (which only the 50Kers used, and both groups used the last two) were well prepared, but the last two simply ran out of supplies. And, the volunteers waited for me at the finish well into dusk. Besides - this was an ultra. No one was gonna let a foot of snow cancel the race.
I don't want to end up letting whatever darkness or depression I have inside of me infect what I do this way ever again. Running can be such an amazing experience. It can challenge you beyond your limits, and it can be very positive. What a waste it was for that woman to die, but at least she was able to enjoy doing something she loved with friends on her last day here. Strangely, I went to Moab with the strange feeling that I could die there. I know that sounds dark, but it is a weird place. It had been a long winter and I had not trained very well. But I would inevitably make it to the finish line. And I would run my next race harder than before. And the next one after that. And so on. Until I can no longer do it.
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