Late in the week, I begged Annalisa (my most crazy running friend) for a pep talk. I lied to the urgent care doctor to score some Tamiflu, which probably didn't really help because I had already been sick for like a week, hence the lying. I patiently listened to the doctor apologize that I would be missing the run ... patient because i figured it would be useless to tell him that I was just gonna run anyway. Plausible deniability?
Woke up Saturday. No fever. Ate ice cream from a carton standing in my kitchen for breakfast. Grabbed my training partner and headed for the hills.
Then I started running. Then I just kept running. Hit the first aid station at mile 8, which was conveniently close to my car and would have made for a reasonable place to drop, but I felt OK so figured I'd just keep going. When I got about 8 miles out from Goat Hill, I figured I should just keep going until I saw Annalisa, who would be at the top. Can I tell you that I have never been so happy for a hill, just so I could take a break and walk?
At the top of Goat Hill, there's only 4.6 miles to the finish so what the hell, I figured I should just finish. So finish I did. Look how much fun I'm having ... If Annalisa tries to tell you that it is like a "party" she is either wrong, or her definition of party is very different than that of the general population (including me).
And that, in a nutshell is how I completed my first 50k. It was pretty simple. Just keep going, over (or through) the river, up the hills, and through the woods.
Afterward, there was no cool jacket or giant medal. There was just me changing my pants in a ditch by the side of the road and driving home barefoot because I forgot flip-flops. This was no party. But, to be honest, it was a pretty cool thing to accomplish in Cool, no less.
