6 hours slopping in mud, then a night of pouring rain. Sunday morn, quiet sunshine. Calm after the storm. Rolled slowly outta my elevated poster bed. Feet on the room’s old wooden floor; steadied myself, tough day-start. Everything in slow motion, sore. Bath, clean clothes/fresh armour.
Yesterday’s battle garments fast discarded, left abandoned ’round the Lafayette Room. Gathered 2 bags: small sack of wet Colorado returns, larger bag for mud disposals. Shoes, socks, shirt – all would find their way in an outdoor McD’s trash can, ‘bout an hour away in Bowling Green.
New day. Faint timber, voice rise ‘n fall downstairs.
Anthony was passing the Mansion, pacer chatting alongside. God help him. While I slept, all night long he continued. In mud, in the dark, in the woods, thru torrential rain. Lap 7, one more to go. Ultimately he’d finish 100 miles, just under the 30-hour time limit. 3rd of only THREE. WOW.
Dropped my bag, walked him ‘cross Green Mill Bridge. Helped pull off shoes & socks, race officials outdoor-grilled a cheese sandwich. Older brother would pace his last 13 miles. Dude’s a warrior. Ran 10+ miles together yesterday, talked ‘bout my Bighorn fail. Heart full/emotional.
‘Last lap took me 5 hours. When are YOU going to run 100 miles?’
Grilled cheese in hand, crew refueled his bottles. Back on trail, last lap.
do something BIG. Folks this is how dreams are born.
Two years time. 50 miles 2019, 100 miles year after. Anthony of West Georgia – I owe ya, man. #noregretlife
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