Miwok 100k - May 2nd, 2009

It's 3:45am. I get picked up from my motel. Time to start a long, fun day in the Marin headlands, just north of San Francisco. Although it had rained the day before, the morning was cool but clear-ish. A festive energy filled the air.

At 5:40am we're off. Running the first 100 yards on the beach at Rodeo Lagoon is a perfect way to start the journey.

Same as always, I lock. I load. Rinse and repeat. A marathon or so goes by and.......

Mile 28.4 - With tears in my eyes, I leave Caitlin at the Bolinas Ridge aid station. Obviously shaken, both in my head and body - shivering from the days endless rain and gusty winds. Soaked from head to toe, I pull forward.

Mile 35.6 - Randall Trail (turnaround): I've made it past the 1/2 way point. Now I just have to get back up the hill. Staring at a 1200 ft incline after 5000 ft of climbing over 35 miles is fun. I mean daunting. Whatever. I move.

flashback... nearly an hour earlier I run into Jimmy (coach, extreme eater, fellow-nut case) we take a moment to address the madness of the day, each of us fighting our own battles, and we're gone. I'm glad to see a friend doing so well.

Mile 42.8 - Bolinas Ridge (again). I'm on my way back. My pace has slowed. The coldness has grasped me. My fingers are numb, my teeth are chattering. I'm tired of eating, and my right leg has locked up. My inner zombie takes over. I blow my nose in a water logged bandanna, sniffle, and hobble in to see Caitlin, my bright eyed beautiful wife. Without making much demands, I again stare at her and say, 'I think I'm done'. 3 minutes later, I have a NEW and DRY long sleeve shirt, rain-proof jacket, and trash bag on. And I'm heading back on the trail with the words, 'I'm not making you do anything you don't want to do', ringing in my head.

50 yards away, first my hands start to shake and them my arms. I lean over and get the biggest chill of my life. I stop and look back, then look ahead realizing if I don't move, I'll only get colder. It's a downward spiral. Even with the dry clothes on, my core is still like a block of wet ice. I need to move.

Deep meditation takes over. The sound of music pulls a blanket over my consciousness. I'm dragging my feet through 6 inches of mud, sliding up and down, sideways and off the trail. Another 20 foot-long puddle, great. Why even try to go around? I walk through and feel the prickly needles of the frigid water kiss my skin.

I'm toast. Fuck this. What's going to happen next? I started at 5:40am, it's now approaching 6pm. The sun never came out today. Within two hours from the start first a drizzle then a steady shower, light, then windy, then light.... blah.

I stop at a trail marker. Where am I? Why are there four possible directions forward to go in? I make a choice, and I choose correctly. All I want to do is stop. It's starting to feel like dark is coming and the trail is on some sort of eerie repeat. Did I pass by that same bush, am I going into the woods again or over the ridge??. I can't get my warmth back. And now the feeling of eating gives me a headache. Evey 30 minutes, I've had a power bar, some gels, cliff shots. It's all tasking like a mess.

Okay. Will I regret this? - yes. Do I feel unsafe - very close. Will I make the right decision? FUCK. Why am I talking to myself??????? Get my mind out of this meat grinder please.

Pan Toll - 49.5: 3 aid stations, 12.7 miles to go. Sir. Excuse me, sir. I'm #378 and I'd like to drop from the race. The deal is done. DNF. Did Not Finish.



That was Miwok 100k. And here's how I'm going to get better and get revenge.

Water-tight drop bag (wet bags = wet stuff).
Bring real rain gear; dry fit stuff doesn't dry when it's raining for 10 hours.
Plan food / snacks better vs. it being such an after thought.
Work big time on climbing. At least 1-2 days of big hill workouts every week.

I'd like to give thanks to God for allowing me to run at the race and giving me the spirit to try my hardest no matter what comes at me, my amazing wife Caitlin for going above and beyond being my one-person crew. Jimmy Dean Freeman, for his quirkiness and overall bad ass approach to such a difficult feat, and for finishing in a little over 10 hours (right according to schedule - what a stud). Dominic and Katie for the memories of the Ragnar relay (Dom's 155-mile 40 hour solo-run) one week earlier, where we all spent a long night together appropriately described by Katie as a highly caffeinated and arguably crazy crew. And lastly to Tiffany and Reed for having me over the day after the race, to feed, drink, recover, pedicure-devirginize-me, and let me clean up all my muddy running gear.

Onwards to Angeles Crest 100 miler on Sept 18-19th. Altitude and heat, welcome back to the party. 100 miles, oh my! Time to train my mind and body. Pacer or crew volunteers, hit me up! I'll need all the support I can get. This race is going to be amazing.

Viva la vida rica. Always bite off more than you can chew. -peter

American River 50-mile Endurance Run

At 6:00 a.m. on Saturday, April 4, 2009 I went for a long run with about 500 friends going from Sacramento to Auburn, CA along the American River. 50 miles, 11 hours and 16 minutes later I finished. Here are the highlights and lessons learned.

Start to mile 25
It's dark. A horn signifies the start of a long day. I sync my watch as I cross the start, only to think about what it will feel to hit stop at the end... which won't come for a while.

The crowd of runners is both electrifying and awesome. All long distance races seem to share a similar quality at the start. Everyone is excited in one way or another. There are some who go out way to fast and crash before the end, or others who can sustain a faster pace like Maxwell King who won with a 7:28 pace / 6:04 final time... ouch, that's fast.

I set into a pace I feel like I can hold for.. well.. in my mind forever, which is exactly what I need to do. I finish my first marathon (26.2 miles) in 5 hours 10 minutes. Okay, I can run much faster, but when you have another marathon distance to run, decreasing your effort to a sustainable pace, staying hydrated, and well fed will is the key to getting through.

Miles 25-50
Beals Point aid station, mile 26.77. The course now goes from a paved bike path along the water to an interesting assortment of trails. With a dramatic end as the road winds up to the top of the Auburn Hills. I change from my road to trail shoes. My drop bag is packed full of only the essentials - socks, shoes, a shirt and shorts, sunscreen, a few cliff bars, and a RED BULL!

I quickly chug my energy drink and after running for over 5 hours, I quickly realize I'm long overdue for a bathroom break. Minutes later, and thoroughly unpleased with the bathroom supplies I'm quickly back on the run.

I'm enjoying the scene much more now. The trails seemed to duck and twist through forest along the rivers edge. Watching people boat, fish, and relax on the lake was both fantastically inviting and hellish since there wasn't anyway I could enjoy the cool water too. I was smack dab in the middle of the race over 25 miles from anything. And I loved it.

Rattlesnake Bar, miles 40.94-43. Hey, I have a PACER! After running for so long, it's amazing to have a friend with you. Kate Nelson is my pacer, she's my niece. She played soccer at UC Davis and is now training to run her first ultra, a 50K in northern california this spring. She's perfect for the job.

Miles 43-46: I'm running. Not fast, but steady. It's getting hot. I'm tired of running and getting a little nauseous. I realize it's a combo of eating way to fast when I first saw Kate and the fact that the warmer temps are making me sweat more, which can quickly lead to dehydration.

Mile 46-Finish: After some chatting with Kate about my continual need to eat, I do so despite a lack of hunger for anything. I think, wow it's getting terribly steep as we approach the beginning of large incline. I feel so much better than I did even 10 minutes ago. I think,

'Hey I feel real good. Time to run? Yes'.

I think someone yelled something at Kate about being my pacer, but Kate's philosophy of going with the flow let me 'go for it'. and a 1/2 mile later I had to walk again and that was fine.

We then climb a steep section approaching the final miles. Then I see mile 49, and need a pic.


It's time to finish this shit. I tell Kate we're running the last mile no matter what. She agrees, applauding how momentous the occasion is, and we move. Minutes later we hear something, then we see it. It's the finish! Damn, I'm so happy. In the last few hours the ground never looked so inviting to sit, lay, or sleep on. I tell Kate about my plan to sprint to the finish, and without hesitation I find the right time and go full force. I charge up a steeeeeep little hill where I thought the finish was over where I then see a little switchback fire road you had to cut around. With a quick push I round the corner passing a crew of people who I shared the last hours with and who gave there 100% support. Whoops, Hollers, it's 100 ft...... 80..... 50.... 10... and I'm done. I find the first area where I can sit, then I crumble on to the ground in a very victoriously exhausted look as I stare into space thinking about how grateful I am for everything I love, especially my wife, father and siblings, all of which I thought a lot about throughout the experience.

What I learned.

When I train, I need to eat a lot. But not a lot just at one time like normal people. I have to eat something bigger than a snack, but smaller than a full blown meal, once every 2-3 hours during the day. A huge props to my work friends for supporting my anti-hunger strike. I've given a new meaning to the 4pm snack.

Nike makes dryfit boxers that you can wear for running. They make the big miles much more manageable. I mean, who's a fan of chaffing? Um, not me.

My new year's resolution is to not go crazy when things don't go my way. I used to let the most mundane change of plans unset me. Well, after finding out that Caitlin couldn't join me (with the dogs) for the weekend due to an impending audition, I set for the road. Caitlin was smart to describe the weekend as a great personal adventure, so I took the prescribed idea and made it a reality. 850 miles of driving, 50 miles of running and 3 days later I write this. Sitting at my desk looking forward to the next race, less than 4 weeks away, Miwok 100K. Until then...

"To give less than your best, is to sacrifice the gift"
Steve Prefontaine

Montana De Oro 50K - Saturday, February 15th 2009

All men should strive
to learn before they die
what they are running from,
and to, and why.
~James Thurber

My first Ultra in California the Montana De Oro 50K...What does that mean anyway? It was the first over 26.2 mile race that I've completed in California, a 50K / 31.5 miles... make that errr 34ish... Well I got lost a few times, but that's only the beginning.

Why do I do this to myself? Do I like the pain, the exhaustion, the planning? Sometimes I ask myself these things when I get to the 'let's dig deep for motivation' moments. And honestly, I feel like one of my reasons is for bragging rights. But who cares? I shouldn't be doing this for anyone other than myself.

Saturday was a difficult day my friends. Well, the weather turned out in my favor... cool (about 45 degrees at the start), sunny, BUT windy as hell (up to 60mph winds at Valencia Peak - the highest elevation point in the race... literally it was like being in a wind tunnel, doing everything you can not to fly off just to touch the hand painted sign that says I MADE IT now turn around). At 8:30 I went out with what looked to be about 75 or 100 others to go for a quick run in Montana De Oro state park, just northwest of San Luis Obispo right along the Pacific ocean. The race comprised of 2 X 15.5 miles loops with a cumulative elevation gain of 6400 ft.

Going into this, I'm thinking 'hey it's just a 31 mile training run'.... this time I have support, not like my usual weekend escapades in the Santa Monica Mtns, where I've been logging many 20+ miles weekend runs. I'm happy to find myself here, but know it's going to be tough, like my Bandera coach Robert Henyen told me 'this is not a feel good sport'. As Caitlin (with Dolly and Tosca in the car) sent me off I started to feel the nerves. 'Hell, I've done a 100K before and in Bandera nonetheless, I CAN run a 50K anywhere!'... What an ego, jeez.

I start at a gentle pace. Letting others pass, I pass, we pass each other.... then we all climb. I hit Valencia Peak for the first time (about 4.5 miles in) and let loose on the way down. Now if there is one thing I can say that enjoy it's fast, technical downhill trail. I enjoy it thoroughly. The nastier, the more twisted, the better. I scoot down and it's near mile 7. I stop at the first (and only aid station) to get some water eat some fresh orange slices and quickly after, I pull out and I'm back on the trail. Then the trail turns to sand. I think, 'oh fuck, they expect us to run on this' and I jump up the ridge of the trail and bushwhack my own route through the weeds instead. At some moment I make it to a 3-way unmarked turn. This my friends is the moment I should have turned around, but instead in the heat of the race I looked at the next person over and followed them, only to burn about 15 minutes on a 1.5 detour.

Ok, back on track. The second half of the first loop climbs you up to another ridge line with amazing views. But the wind was so harsh I kept on bracing myself, and having to put my jacket / gloves back on due to the cool chills. Once atop the first ridge you get a prospective of where you are headed.... very far away from where you started. Along the crest of the trail, from top to top, then back into the canyon where you have a nice, flat, yet boring 2.5 mile fire road run.

I get back to the aid station and grab some different socks in my drop bag. Sit down to change, get water, and eat some food. By this time, doubt sets in. Doubt or hesitance? Confusion or just exhaustion? I've run for 3.5 hours, endured the sickest winds and I'm feeling tapped out. Well, I have too much pride, so I get back on my feet and say 'see you in a few miles' to the aid station volunteers as I hear back up to Valencia peak. Now I'm getting pathetic. I'm saying to myself, you might as well just run the peak then quit, that way you're at least already getting in a 20+ mile run.

I make it to the peak. But this time I almost can't get down due to the hard gusts of wind pushing me upward. I have to nearly sit and wobble down, but I make a few big steps pushing my body unnaturally forward and I make it off the highest part. As I twist around the corner, I pick up speed. About that same time I see a woman and her son hiking to the top, and take note as I rush to pass by them going down. Then BAM! I slip going AS FAST AS I CAN down hill along the edge of a VERY SCARY ridge. My left foot hugs the edge, then it gives way. My right foot struggles to get a grip against the trail, but by this time I've already hit the ground and rolled.... OVER THE EDGE. I do one more roll and grab hold to the shrubs that touch the edge. The woman and her son hurry close, she gets down to the ground and offers me a leg to grab and pull myself up with. All I can think is how stupid this is, and right when I try to move I look at my right leg and I can't move it I have a HORRIBLE charlie horse. What the fuck is a charlie horse anyway??? Ugh. I grab another shrub, then another and help myself up. I get to my feet and whelp with a nice growl of pain from my leg, and all the razor looking scrapes I've received from my fall. A fellow runner comes by to let me know how graceful it looked as I tell him,

'hey did you see me fall off the cliff?'

I make it around a corner, and start to wince with pain from my leg. Now it's time to quit. DNF = DID NOT FINISH. Is that how it's going to be? Now I have to quit? Nope. I keep on. Making it to the aid station yet again for my last 8 mile trek. Now I'm a zombie, I've lost time by getting lost, had the worst running-related fall ever, and I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown. I push past this, and try to zone out. Not think about anything. Just listen. CCR, Tribe Called Quest, Guns and Roses... Whatever was on my ipod, I went to. I didn't care anymore. I had to run far enough away to give myself no choice but to run back. I make it ALL the way out and start my way back. I'm toast, but I've decided with about 4 miles to go that even if I have a steep climb, I'm running. I've been out for over 6.5 hours and run 30 miles. FUCK IT..... I can run another 4 miles.

I make it to the finish to yell 'THANK YOU GOD' and make a few more screams for myself, only to look at one shy volunteer and say 'hey that was pretty anticlimactic', and she smiled. And so did Caitlin, Dolly and Tosca. My crew, all there with smiles to bring me warm clothes, hot soup, and relief.

7:13:48, and I told Caitlin.... I'll be done in 6 hours FOR SURE.... 5.5 if I'm having a good day.

Now, I don't mean to be coy or abrupt, but these races can be hard. Hard on your feet and head. I'm going to take this week to rest both my body and mind. I need to rediscover my motivation. Maybe it's time to bench the Miwok 100K dream for a bit, and live my own life. What am I afraid of, judgement? Hell, half of you reading this would be glad to see me pick up another fun pass time, rather than continuing down this dark path. I guess once you get a taste, you want more, but to be smart you have to know your limits and be empowered to choose your own path, despite what your ego may want.

31st Annual Santa Monica-Venice Christmas 10K - 12/13/08

Earlier this month I enlisted the help of a runner named Jimmy Dean to help me train for my second 100K race, the Miwok 100k. Before we could nail down a training plan, he needed to see where my fitness level currently was. And to be quite honest, I've been ready to get a better assessment also.

Here I go. 7:30 am, I'm at the start with my friends Eric and Kelly. It's my first race in California. And a very festive-themed one also, the 31st Annual Santa Monica-Venice Christmas 10K. The gun goes off and so I follow. My heart begins an anxious beat, followed by another and another. I quickly start checking my Garmin like a speedometer. The only three things on my mind from start to finish are how fast I am going, how hard am I breathing, how much energy do I have left. I'm hovering at a 6:45-7:15 / mile pace. Back and forth, faster and slower. I decide that I want to negative split (my second 5k to be faster than the first), and around mile 3 I realize I'm cooking about as hot as I can, and I better just go with the flow. My second decision is to pull away around mile 5. And so I push a little harder, but all I can do is stay steady, with maybe a few quick bursts. Speaking of bursts... now I decide, and this is typical of any race I do, that in the last quarter mile I'm going to sprint for the finish. Well, I really tried, but then I felt a quick heave come from deep inside. I keep it cool, coast, then hit the engines with about 50 feet to go.



Result...

Time: 43:39... a NEW PR (personal record) by over 2:37!
Pace: 7:02/mile

#10 in my age group! But, what aways gets me is when I look at other results and realize, that if I ran a 6:50 pace... I could have contended for 5th position. Well, I know I can do it. So, I'm going to. I'm going to run another 10K at a 6:50 pace.


Onward towards January 10th. That's the day I find out if I made it into the Miwok 100K. My destiny.

Best,
Peter

Rocky Hill Ranch 25K - April 19th 2008

This was my third year on the course. Each time something very special happens.

2006 was my first trail race, and I placed 3rd in my age group for the 25K
2007 was my first ultramarathon, the 50K
2008 was my first race with my brother John (see pic above), and his first trail race - the 25K

Around a month after the 2008 AT&T marathon I was back to running as usual, but I started to get really weird knee pain... After a few days of trying to ‘run through it’ I finally decided to go see a doctor. Ends up I had some IT band issues caused by a combination of lack of stretching and recovery exercises while training. This was enough to rethink my initial thoughts of doing the 50-miler, then my secondary thoughts of ‘just’ doing the 50k. After John signed up, and as I began to understand my injury the 25K was the best and least damaging option.

And what a great time it was. No pressure, no fuss. John and I ran side by side during the whole race. From the slow start to the strong finish we kicked that course’s ass. 3 years in a row. A BIG thanks to race director Joe Prusaitis and all of the volunteers for making this race happen. Year after year it never seems to disappoint me.

Details:
25K results - Place # / Time / Name
30 / 2:54:40 / John Williams
31 / 2:54:40 / Peter Williams

Race website: http://www.tejastrails.com/RockyHillRanch.html

2008 AT&T Austin Marathon

This is a road race. Many of you have heard me say I never plan on running on the roads again, since I picked up trail running. Well, this was confirmed today at the marathon.

5.6 miles: 48:23, pace: 8:38/M
10 miles: 1:26:50, pace: 8:41/M
15 miles 2:11:40, pace: 8:47/M
20 miles: 3:00:51, pace: 9:03/M
Finish: 3:59:41, pace: 9:09/M

Finish time: 03:59:42



RIGHT under 4 hours.... Yeah, after doing this in 3:34:59 last year, it's easy to say I didn't PR.

This year I had run a 100K the month before (January) and a 50 miler the month before that (December), so after nearly 140 miles of racing in less than 90 days, I'm good with a 3:59:42... but it just shows EVERY second counts.

Bandera 100K trail race

Blood, sweat and tears. The Bandera 100K - 01/05/2008

A 100K isn't something you can fake. You might be a casual runner and get away with doing a 1/2 marathon or even a marathon, but a 100K, and one in a place like Bandera especially takes everything you have - both emotionally and physically. Just the distance is enough to drive you crazy. A 100K translates to a little over 62 miles, which is broken into two 31 mile loops on the course. The terrain in Bandera is fierce. Rocks galore, climbs that kill your legs and scenic views that will take your breathe away. So, with the far distance and rough terrain, I knew I had to really put all my efforts into training properly. Getting my short and long runs in, including over 5 weeks of over marathon distance Saturday runs ranging from 30-50 miles each before the race.

So, here it goes...

It's 7:30 on Saturday morning. I'm at the starting line, surrounded by familiar faces. I'm thinking about all that has happened to get me to this place... Countless months of training, incredible support from my wife, friends, and co-workers, and tons of planning. I was, and still while I'm write this, am mourning the death of my wife's father who passed away on December 30th. His funeral was on the January 3rd and only what seemed to be hours later I'm about to run a 100K race. To say the the least the start was packed with emotion and anticipation for me. And I'm off... 100K / 62 miles to go!

I'm on cruise control. I know that feeling and stride I can keep forever. A gear I can switch into and just sail. Next thing I know it we're ascending a few small hills and some people are starting to slide around and it's crowded... surely this race can't be such a cluster f&*@! And within a few minutes it begins to spread. And BOOM from out of no where here comes Fagan, a friend of mine, flying by while hitting the down hill. I think 'well shit... if he's going at it like this, I gotta save a little face and go after him'. And so I jolt. Whizzing past some season veterans I hear 'just wait, we'll be passing those guys in a few miles', I shrug and think 'aw fuck you too', then it clicks - 'oh shit, I'm in the first 5 miles of this 100K and I'm running it like I'll be done before lunch'. BAD idea. The words of the other runners and my sensibility check in. It's time to loosen up and relax. I kicked it back into a manageable but fresh pace and decide to run my own race.

I start to knock out the aid stations, all within 5 miles of each other - Nachos, Chapas, Cross Roads, back to Cross Roads, Last Chance and Lodge. Then it's time to do it all over again!

Time passes, I get through the first 50K in under 7 hours. I check for some critical gear needed in my drop bag - a towel, new shirt, hat, and bandanna. But wait, a little before I got into the lodge, I noticed my hands were starting to look a little puffy and I was having a hard time peeing (sorry guys this is just the real deal). I have Robert my coach, a random (but awesome) volunteer from the aid station and Fagan surrounding me. I told them of my issues. Off the bat, here's the problem - I'm taking in too much salt (you take this to offset the loss of electrolytes while running, and I've taken some ibuprofen, which to Robert's knowledge messes with your kidneys which I interpret as my peeing problem. Solution: lay off the salt pills for a few hours and no more ibuprofen. I take all the advice get going.

From this point, you can start finally counting the miles down. My approach was by the aid station. You have 6 total - six fingers. Each time you knock one down you have whatever left to go. It sound caveman-ish, but when you're only holding 3 then 2, then 1 you get going.

Nacho's Aid station - mile 36.60
I'm ready for food, real food and they have it! A brisket taco, while running?!? WTF? Yes, and it was delicious. Every ounce of my body craved the protein. Nacho's aid station, I salute you.

Chapas Aid station - mile 42.04
Food worked. I need more. Hell, I'm eating at every stop from here on out. And wait, what's that I see in my drop bag I see, a Red Bull? Alright. A grilled cheese and Red Bull. I start feeling WAY better. My friend Diane has been running with me for a while. She tells me that that unless I say out loud

"Red Bull gives me wings"

it won't work properly. So, I did it and boom I was fresh again! Did I mention, it's around 6pm now? I've been running for over 10.5 hours. Darkness is coming. Gotta get going.

Cross Roads Aid station - mile 47.89
2 cups of top ramen, a brisket sandwich and a Red Bull later, my headlamp is on, I've got my super 10-LED green flash light in hand I'm back on the course. I feel like that guy Survivor Man from TV. I'm tearing through this brisket while traversing through the woods in the dark. A very primal instinct is taking over. Food, running, and eventual rest are the only things on my mind, aside from the random Jimmy Hendrix or Michael Jackson song blaring away in my head. My head felt like a house party does at 3am, wasted but still moving.

Back to Cross Roads Aid station - mile 52.85
I've just traversed the 3-sisters, a chain of three steep climbs and long downhills. I've run over the distance of 2 marathons back to back. At one point in the day, I could run downhill so fast that it looked (or seemed) to me that my feet were just gliding across the ground as I took them each head on. Now, I walked, jogged, crept... whatever it took. It was dark. I was tired. I'm ready to finish. And speaking of finishing - I'm really going to do it!! So many times during this race I could only rationalize things by saying, 'it will be alright to quit by the next aid station' but by the time I got there I didn't feel like it, then by the time I crossed the lodge in the first loop I knew I could do this. And with that attitude and 3 red bulls, a coke tons of good food and support, I knew I was there.

Last Chance Aid Station to the finish, miles 57.10 - 62.00
I look at my hand. I've have two fingers out. With Last Chance out of the picture that leaves the final hit to the Lodge. One last section. More hills come and go. With the darkness and exhaustion I set into whatever pace I can and just go for it.
I see the ASHA group at Last Chance. They all give me some great support. I think how much I love these people, I scarf yet another gilled cheese down while drinking a coke and leave for the last miles.

I really can't tell you what the last section was like. It seems like a blur. I was so caught up in the finish it just seemed to move. I do recall an overlook I crossed at the top of a very scenic peak. Earlier in the day I crossed this right before hitting the Lodge and completing my first loop. The sky was so blue, the hills, trees and rocks looked so calm and peaceful. I thought of Caitlin's father. How he must be now in Heaven. Now, I can't say this has ever happened to me while being in a race, but I cried. Like a big sissy. I let it out for about a mile, all the while making sure no one was coming up on me to see what I looked like. It was raw emotion. I needed it. I left Caitlin the same day as the funeral to head home to take care of the dogs and house, then left for Bandera the next morning bright and early. I had mixed feeling about this and Caitlin and I had a serious talk which (with some calls to my sibs) ended with me running and getting this thing done. I remember, recall, and reveal in this brief moment and continue running. Just like in regular life, you can't just stop or you won't go anywhere you have to keep going, keep moving.

I twist, I turn, I anxiously await some light somewhere to signify I'm approaching my destiny - rest. Then I see it, like a flight path, the trail is illuminated with glow sticks all in parallel shooting me towards to the finish line. Just like every race, I pick it up - muster what else I have left and sprint. I cross, get my finishers belt buckle exchange some handshakes, hugs, congratulations and I'm done. Done with this race and training for a while. I've got my fix. It's time to rest and recover now.

I dedicate this race to my late father in-law Bill Thornton. I felt his spirit out there. Bill was a gambling man. I knew somewhere in Heaven he had a bet on me that day and I couldn't let him or Caitlin down. And I didn't. I finished.

Time: 15 hours and 45 minutes 51 seconds. Pics to follow. A big extra props to Rob, my brother for crewing for me during the whole race, and helping out the whole weekend. Rob, you're awesome.

What's next? Who knows, but I'm sure it will be hard. Stay tuned and God Bless.