Even though I do about half of my running on the trails around Lake Freeman, I'd never done a trail race before. The 8 milers went first, and it was interesting to experience the funnel effect of a hundred runners getting squeezed into a two-abreast trail.

The first 3 miles were characterized by a gentle up and down, trending downward and lots of exposed roots. I never fell and never saw anyone else either, but that wasn't for lack of potential. The first 3 miles were also pretty fun. How can you not enjoy hopping over rocks in the creek beds, and peeling out in the occasional muddy sections?

Between mile ~3 and the aid station at 4.5, I started to reconsider my last-minute registration. Even though I had dressed as minimally as I felt I could, I still began to overheat. Took off the hat first, then one glove, then the other in a effort moderate things.

I walked for the first time on the spur to the aid station, where I had some water and some HEED and couple of cookies. As I walked out of the aid station I felt surprisingly stronger, and took off at a decent pace.

Then I met Da HILL. I'm guessing this section of the trail was created before the invention of switchbacks, or perhaps was just a result of a mashochistic RD, as the course had us climb from river level up 240 feet to the top of the ridge above, in just over .25 miles.

Da Hill took whatever confidence had been obtained at the aid station and squashed it like a bug. Killed me . . . and thankfully (for my ego) most of the folks around me. The last three miles were primarily downward, and would have been really fun, had it not been for Da Hill. I did eventually begin to recover, and by about mile 6.5 I was running consistently. I finished the race with a solid kick over the last half mile. It felt so good to see the finish line.

On a side note: I just can't get my mind wrapped around the psychology involved with the folks choosing the 16 mile and marathon options. I mean, the marathoners see a pyschological finish line THREE different times! That takes a level of fitness and mental fortitude that I don't currently possess

Ha - I'm the biggest dork in the world. I tried to leave quickly as the family had plans for the rest of the day. I go to open my card, WHICH I KNOW I HAD LEFT UNLOCKED, and the door won't open . . . I'm locked out . . . in soaked clothes, 40 degrees, and 30 mph winds.

However, I had an experience that makes me feel really good about the running community that comes to events like this:

I saw a pair of guys walking toward the parking lot and I asked the them if I could borrow a cell phone. Well, one of the guys said he NEVER carries his during a race, but for some reason did this time. After I couldn't get a hold of my wife, I explained that I was locked out. This gentlmen then said, "well, I think still have a break-out kit in the Jeep."

They got in after about 20 minutes of hard work. It turns out one of the guys was a former policeman turned attorney. I thanked them profusely at the time, but I think I'll look up their race numbers and send something to his practice.

Then called my wife, who was worried by that point, and explained that I was not stuck out on course with a broken ankle.


Todd and Cynthia at Headfirst Performance haven been the RD for this even and the sprint tri I did this summer. Both events were managed well. They're not "glitz and glamour" events, and I kind of like that.

Even with the lock-out incident, this was a wonderfully fun race. I only hope it will survive for another year.