I started out at what I perceived to be an LSD pace. I had my Garmin on so I checked it about a half-mile in to see that I was going a bit fast. I was feeling good and wasn't near my red-line, so I carried on.

B was right beside me and, when my Garmin would chirp at each mile, she would ask, "What was the time?" I told her she didn't want to know. And she didn't because she would have been freaked out to see we were running 8:30 instead of the promised 9:00-10:00/ mile. I told her to keep running and drop back if she needed to.

About a mile in, I needed a KYBO again. I held it and kept racing. Our pace settled down to the promised 9:00-9:30 range and we settled in, slowing overtaking all the studs who were trying to win the race in the first mile. We continued like this until mile 3.

At mile 3 I HAD to find a KYBO or I was going defecate on myself. So, after a half-mile of searching (these darn things are usually everywehere!) I finally found one. I told B to just keep going and I would catch up to her. Made a 3:00 pit-stop, which was mostly water, and continued to race.

The 3:00 pit-stop allowed some folks that I knew to pass me and I slowly moved up the field and spent a few minutes talking to each one. I had a great time scaring the pants of our S-4, CPT D. I also got to run with some of our SPO folk. I probably met 8-9 people from my company and shared the road with them. However, I could never find B.

There were water stations at each mile and I walked through them. I wanted to make sure I got as much of the water in my system as possible. It also provided a nice respite from the pounding.

Miles 4-8 felt great. Cruising along a decent RPE, passing a lot of folks who are beginning to realize just how far 10 miles is, life is good. Right at mile 8 is when some things went south.

At mile 8 my heartrate just felt like it sky-rocketed. My breathing was irregular. I slowed down considerably just to catch my breath. I regrouped and thought through what had happened. The thing I pointed to first is the KYBO stop at mile 3. I probably lost too much water there and then red-lined at mile 8. But, I was smart about it. I just slowed down, regrouped, grabbed 2 cups of water at the water stop, and went on smartly.

About mile 9, the BN XO comes zipping up on his bike. "Do you need anything," he asks. My response: "A ride." I was joking. By this time, I'm feeling better; the extra water is helping somewhat. So, I pick up the pace and finish the last mile in about 8:15.

In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have raced. I should have just called it. Given the condition I was in, it was the smart thing to do. My over-active sense of obligation kicked in and pushed me to follow through.

Also, I want to do more long runs and hydration is an issue. I may look into a fuel belt or something similar to help with that.

At the end, I found P who had smoked the course. Come to find out that B was just about 20m ahead of me at the end. (This is why I wouldn't tell her the time. If she had known she was going that fast, she couldn't have beleived she could go that fast.) We walked around, found our folks, encouraged, laughed, drank, ate a bit.

3/4 mile bike back to my hooch and a shower.


This dang cold and the extra weight I'm carrying. Although, CPT W commented that I am looking healthier (i.e. thinner). I'm glad to hear that cuz the scale's not moving like I want it to.