"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds" 

If indeed Emerson's words apply to my running habit, then my mind is microscopic. I'm just going to keep running, even though it gets me nowhere, I'm not fast, I won't win or place, it hurts, and it's time consuming...foolish? So be it.

29.8 miles / 5:08:33 / 10:21 avg.

I drove to the Temple Mountain area on Thursday and set up camp, about a 20 minute drive from the starting line at Goblin Valley State Park. The weather was pretty nice all day. I crawled into my tent around 8:00 PM to read a little and hopefully get to sleep early. I was still awake around 9:00 PM when it started raining. Then it rained, steadily, all night. Literally. It just never stopped. Finally around 8:00 AM on Friday there was a break in the rain. Just enough time to get some coffee and pancakes made, and then it started raining again. By 11:00 AM, I was quite bored with sitting in my tent, reading, listening to the rain. So I decided to drive into Green River to fill up with gas and take a drive up the Green River road. It's about a 90 mile round trip. I was thinking that I could find something to do until 6:00 when the race dinner/packet pick up started. Well, after a couple of hours hanging around town I was quite bored and decided I would pick up my bib etc in the morning before the race, so I drove back to camp. It had been raining off and on all day. On the way back I drove over to the dirt road where the first part of the race is run, it was extremely muddy. I drove up the road a couple of miles looking for a dry stretch to take a short run on but none was to be found. The mud was thick. I had thick mud caked all over my jeep. Embarrassing for me because it made me look like one of those guys that likes to go "mudding" just so I could drive around with mud all over my vehicle, which is unlike me. Plus, I wasn't willing to make the drive back to Green River just to wash my car. So I was stuck with embarrassingly thick mud caked all over my car for the rest of the weekend. I can't tell you how much this bugged me. Anyway, I got back to camp, the sky was clearing up a little. Earlier in the day I had considered just packing up and going back home, skipping the race the next morning, because the conditions were so bad. But with the weather clearing I decided to wait until morning to make my final decision. Being Friday night, other campers started showing up in droves. I assume some of them were there for the race. I got to bed around 8:00 PM for a couple of hours of reading. I had my alarm set for 5:15 AM. The canyon got quite loud during the evening with the sounds of cars frantically driving up and down the road looking for a camp spot before the light dwindled into dark. With the steep canyon walls, every sound echoed; every door shut, stake drive, voices. Lots of teenagers in one group, and what teenager can resist the sound of their own voice echoing off the canyon walls? The noise became almost musical in a way, as all the echoes blended together. Surprisingly, everybody pretty much settled down around 10:30 or so. I slept pretty well, but woke up around 4:00 AM and got out of my tent for a bathroom break. The moon was full or close to it and it was like daylight outside. I couldn't get back to sleep because I was worried about sleeping through the alarm. No problem, I felt rested and it was a really nice morning with the moon and all. I like not being rushed in the mornings. So I made coffee, ate breakfast, changed into my running gear and covered up because it was pretty chilly out.

I got to the park around 6:45 AM, got my packet, organized my drop bag and then hung out at the starting line chatting with other lunatics who think running 31 miles is a good time. Saw Kelli (I wish I knew how to provide links to other blogger's blogs), met for the first time Smooth and Leslie Petersen. I really love how this blog has introduced me to other runners who I otherwise would not know. It's nice to make a few connections at the races and have a little "virtual" history with the bloggers. Before the race started we were informed that the turn around for the 50k had been pulled back a couple of "k's" due to the mud on top of the pass where the original turn around was. If we were OCD we could run the "gauntlet" a couple of times at the end of the race to make up the distance if needed. Whatever. A runner like me (uncompetitive, slow) isn't too concerned with this. I was just looking forward to a good long run in beautiful surroundings. The race started. I ran with Kelli for about a  mile before she pulled off ahead to do what she does so well come race day, excel! In the second mile I stopped at a campground bathroom facility we were passing to take care of some last minute business. ( a two star morning for those keeping count). I felt good. No tightness or fatigue in the legs. I wasn't feeling that extra little umph that tells me I'm going to have an exceptional day. But that only happens on training runs. Never on race day, yet. The mud wasn't bad at all as it had stopped raining almost 12 hours ago. In fact, the rains had made the course completely dust free for the day, which I think was a plus. I met and had extended conversations with several runner along the course and thoroughly enjoyed that aspect of the run. The aid stations were great. I ate cookies,  potato wedges, bananas and a little Heed. At the turn around I got my bag and dropped my gloves and hat, grabbed a couple of gu's, then tied my bag back up. When I went to grab my water bottle that I had set on the tail gate of the truck, it was gone. I looked all over for it. It was a really weird moment. I wanted to hurry and get back to running but my water bottle had simply disappeared. It kind of threw me into a state of mild vertigo for a moment. I determined that someone must have accidentally grabbed it (it was an "Ultimate Directions" bottle with a black strap, I had seen a lot of them on the course today), and decided to just get going, without it. I wasn't too concerned about hydration because there were plenty of aid stations. I had to take a little more time at each station as I filled up with as much water as I could before moving on. The weather by the way was ideal. Partly cloudy and I don't think the temps got above 60 degrees. Couldn't have ordered better weather for this run. I was really starting to slow down around the 20 mile mark. My legs were crampy and I just couldn't keep up form or pace. Luckily I had someone to run with those last few miles. I didn't get his name but we had some good conversation which helped take my mind off the complete failure of my body. Still, I was holding up okay, and moving forward. During the very last mile, known as "The Gauntlet" which is was kind of nice because the surface was softer and  the path was marked with little plastic pumpkins. Just something kind of goofy and a nice distraction to get through the end of the race. Anyway, with about a quarter mile to go my body just sort of shut completely down. I was getting tightness/pain in the chest and a wave of nausea hit me, and didn't go away. I stumbled to the finish and took a few minutes with my hands on my knees trying to get a grip. Anytime I stood up straight I felt extremely dizzy. I've never experienced anything quite this severe during a run before. I have no idea what happened. I quickly recovered though and was fine. I hung out for about an hour and ate, talked with Kelli, who of course completely rocked the day! Saw Smooth and said hi. I left before Leslie Petersen got in. I was in a hurry to get back to camp and pack up for home. I could see the clouds starting to gather again and decided to head home Saturday night instead of Sunday. I couldn't take any more rain.

On the drive home, I encountered one of the most severe hail, rain, lightening, thunder storms in my life. I was white knuckles on the two lane highway 6, as the sound of the hail and thunder was deafening. Semi's passing going the opposite direction were shrouded in billows of rain as they approached and passed, making visibility even more limited. It was crazy. I actually started hydroplaning. At first I thought the car was being thrown around by crazy wind, but then the "traction" warning light came on the dashboard and I realized I was basically floating down the highway on a plane of water. Spooky. About a mile down the road the traffic had come to a complete standstill. An accident up ahead. It was about a half hour before they started allowing small groups of cars through at a time. As I finally made my way slowly past the accident I saw a little red sedan that had been completely shredded by a collision with a semi going the opposite direction. Also there was a body on a gurney covered in a white sheet. The combination of driving through that storm, and then seeing the result of that accident had me kind of emotional when I called my wife to tell her about it. I usually have a more clinical perspective when it comes to things like that, but this was  just a little too close for me. I looked on ksl.com and found out that that both people in the sedan had been killed. They had apparently drifted head on into the path of the semi. Hydroplaning no doubt.

 So anyway, those few who read this blog may or may not know that one of my favorite things about going away is to come back home. Love it here. And feel grateful for my wife and the comforts of home. Not to be taken for granted.

After sleeping on it, I'm really not that disappointed in my pace for the run (10:21 per mile). Roughly 3,000 feet of vert certainly slowed me down a bit, and the terrain. All in all, I had a great day. I'm looking forward to trying this one again, and hopefully something longer in the not too distant future.

Post script: the 101's were totally great for this run.