|The Scenic Mound between Kratka and Eagle's Roost.|
This morning my brain is mud. I slept in til 7. Overall I had a good, tough day yesterday. My job was to sweep the course of marker surveyor ribbons put up by the training run front-runner. I’m so slow right now its the only honorable way to participate. Pre-start pix were taken, but I declined to be in. Its the runner’s show, not mine.
Yesterday's 27 mile Islip to Chilao AC100 training run was held under optimal conditions. That's not a typo. Weather was generally mild, there was generous aid from dedicated volunteers. God bless all of you. And it still kicked unholy ass. Wait until it really gets hot.
The first-timers, accompanied by veterans, experienced a very challenging section of the course that is always overshadowed by Mt Wilson and other glamor-betties. They are the wise ones who got to feel the lay of the land and the route that is beyond the grasp of a GPS or any other app.
For all those outside the elite circle who missed this to chase strawberries and a fine social scene up at WS camp, you've made a serious mistake.
I first did this section in 1990, as a newbie pacer who'd never seen the course, with 4 bottles and water drops at Cloudburst, Three Pts, with my runner. And I mean ran. I seem to remember a growing unease while sprawled on the Chilao pavement afterwards. Shit was getting serious.
But yesterday. At Cloudburst I was starting to hurt. It receded somewhat. I suppose seeing people dropping out made me not want to join that company. I was on the bubble of ass-hurt for a while, but then I was fully in the ass-hurt but still-moving zone. Then things got interesting.
My friend Jeanne, who’d volunteered to help sweep, hadn't seen the 3Pts/Mt Hillyer  section. If I took the cheater bypass cutoff at 3 Points, she'd be out there on her own. No cell service to inform Balmore & the other nice couple that I wouldnt be there, which would a total dick move.
The solution on getting past my own shit and insecurities was to focus on getting Jeanne through. She's solid, no whiny shit, and a joy to be out there with.
So, into the furnace. Mt Hillyer was a shit-show of solar beat down. I was walking a lot of it. Low conditioning etc. But the payoff came in the Fred Flintstone Scenic Wilderness, hitting the route, heading downhill, and pulling Garry Curry’s spare markings down to Horse Flats CG. By then we were OK.
We got back to the empty parking lot, flopped in the shade when Geoff and Howie showed up. They’d gotten a burger at Newcomb’s, and weren’t delirious-crazed like we were. Rude comedy ensued, and I hurt myself laughing at Geoff’s deadpan wit.
So it looks like the only way to get back into shape is to do it. Damn it. I didn’t expect to hurt like this. The empowerment workshops leave that part out.
|Obsessive rock installation, Mt Hillyer.|