Chris and I had been talking about this run for many months and the only problem I had with it was that he opened it up for registration while I was gone to Colorado for 3 weeks. Dam thing was full and closed by the time I got home. I wasn't sure I could run it anyway, so I didn't give it much thought... that is until I realized that I needed to be there anyway, to take Chris a lot of my equipment for his race logistics. He needed 6 tents, 7 tables, and 4 ice chests. He also wanted me there by 4:30am on race morning. He suggested I run the race because once the tents were up, I'd have nothing to do until we had to tear em back down much later. Sounds good to me.

I leave Austin at 3am, arrive at 4:30am. I dump the finish line tents, sort them out, then drive the remaining two out onto the levee to set 'em up. This doesn't take too long, but we're all soaking wet when done from the high humidity. By 6am I'm done and just sitting around. Chris again suggests I just go run. He's pushing pretty good and I'm going to be awful bored just waiting around, so I figure I should just go ahead and get in a good run. I always keep some running togs in my truck, but I don't have any of my gear for a long haul. I have no supplements, trail fare, sodium, or any of my typical long run stuff. I change anyway and load a single water bottle with water.

Must be been around 50 people standing at the start line. And 3 of us are unregistered, but what the hell, the race has no entry fee anyway, and of the 70 who are signed up, some 20 odd did not bother to show up. So, it was no big deal anyway. Chris did ask us 3 to wait until everybody starts, and then he sends us off maybe just a minute behind the others.

The other two are friends from Houston. They pull me into their conversation immediately, such that we carry on loudly as we pass quite a few 'back of the packers'. They know Mark Henderson, as I do also, so we swap Mark tales as we speed along. If you know Mark, then you know this makes for a very lively discourse.

I have never been to Lake Bryan before so I have no idea of the course. The train of lemming slows to a walk as they begin the first of many climbs up onto the side of a levee. I have no plans, and no thought whatsoever as I go cross country to sprint uphill past quite a few people. I have no idea how long I'm going to run but figure I'll go all out until it's time to stop. When the trail turns back downhill, I stay off trail as I bound downhill past even more lemmings lined up in a row. And this is how I continue all the way to the first aid station. I slow behind a few people in slow mode for chucks of time as we twist about on the single track, but every time, a bit of open country appears, I sprint around and past a few more.

I top off my bottle quickly at the station, done in seconds, and on top of the levee running well ahead of the trailing pack. Those in front are now well in front, but I'm past the bulk of the pack by now. This is where I'll be for the duration, or at least until some of the fast runners work out of the pack of lemmings behind me. I feel good. Everything seems to be going well for now. I wonder how long this will last, understanding that it might be for 10 miles or 2 miles. But, for now, it feels damn good, and I intend to ride it out as long as it lasts. Seems odd having no goal, no plans, no intentions. And even though this is a free race, I don't think they even recognize me being in it. I pick up the pace and start running faster. Who gives a damn, its fun time.

I catch a few others just before getting back to the main transition area, which they say is 10km. Chris tells me the other side is 15km. This doesn't click into my thinking until much later, when I run out of water. I stop at my truck, to discard my soaking wet shirt and bandana. I refill my water bottle and head out to what Chris says is the more technical side.

There aren't many places to just stretch it out and flat out run, but that has never been my strength anyway, so it makes me no difference at all. The trail is all twisted up such that I never know who is in front and who is behind you when I spy anyone else thru the trees. Lots of ally-oop dips and risers that with enough speed could get some air now and again, depending on my speed. Might even land me in the trees if I miss a turn in mid air. Sure makes for some fun and fast snap decisions rounding the corners. This all requires some thought to foot placement so that I can push off and accelerate thru instead of slowing to avoid a tree. Seems that I always run much better when my mind is fully engaged in some sort of simple mental game. Too much though requires slowing to process it, but avoiding a dog or a swarm of bees tends to buzz me up in a much more primal way. I have to pay attention, looking a turn or two ahead, if I can, so as to position my hips and place my feet, avoiding anything that impedes the momentum. using every square inch of the trail, it's Impossible to pass anyone else, should I catch them thru here. A 200 pound rock hurtling thru the trees, mindless, effortless, and making very little sound as I pass. Besides the twisted up lanes, each of these appear to parallel others going opposite them, such that I intermittently see other people just feet away, with neither of us a clue who is in front or how far away by trail miles.

On top of the levee again, I wonder if this is the same one or a different one. I can see the aid station just down a short way. But I hop off the side and spin away. A short bit and then back up and heading for it again. I turn off the other side and goes for a ways before I'm back on it yet again. I am almost there this time when I turn off once more. This time, I seem to go for a very long way before I'm finally at the aid station. Playing rabbit and mouse with the station is a first class mental screw job. I'd like it better had I not seen it at all until I was on top of it. I stop to refill my almost empty bottle and drink a few cups besides. I can see somebody up the levee road and wonder how far they are away and is it in front or behind me. Not that it matters, but it seems strange to not know. Leaving, I find that the trail continues as before like a snake in the trees.

The trail is extremely well marked. For an old blind man without a clue, I have no problem staying on track. I stop looking for the ribbons as another appears so frequently as to make it all so mindless. With all the twisted up single-track though, I suspect that anyway cutting the course might find themselves going the wrong direction and miles ahead or behind. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I find a rusted up old oil rig that is making an awful clunking sound as it spins endlessly. I pass it and twist about and then come back to it again. All this seems all too typical in this maze and not the least bit disorienting until I come back to it yet again, and again. I begin to wonder if I'm going in circles. The damned oil rig is messing with me. Everything was all so perfect in its mindless game playing and ally-oops, until the flippin rig dashes it all and makes me start to think. It begins so simply, with me questioning the route and cascading into questioning my body. I start to feel bad for the first time. My pace starts to slow for the first time as well. But I refuse to walk. I push myself now to go faster, just because! Then I run out of water. I flash back to Chris telling me that this is the 15km side, which means the stations must be further apart. I wasn't thinking when he told me that. I really needed 2 bottle for this side.

I have no idea how far I have yet to go, but I can hear voices now and again, in front, behind, and no idea who is where or what. The downward spiral has begun. Oh well, I went at it hard and had a great go of it. I'll just finish this side off and stop. A great 25km run that seemed to go very well. But the trail continues to twist about. It is time to be done and soon. My mouth starts to feel cotton dry. I want to run faster to get done sooner but my energy is fading. And then I see Moogy at a road intersection and know I am very close. I run down the road as Chris runs next to me, telling me the score. he says that all the other 50km runners in front of me have dropped. They are done, and that leaves me in front, if I keep going.

I had already decided to stop. My shorts are drenching wet. I need a drink badly. My shoes are filled with sweat such that they and my socks are sopping wet. I imagine I look about as bad as I feel. I go over to my truck to think about it. I subconsciously change my clothes and shoes, while drinking everything I have to drink in my cooler: 2 gats, 2 ice teas, a coke, and a large bottle of water. It is all I have. I go back over to the main station to get some more water. Chris says that I should just keep going. I am certainly a fool, because he has me talked into it. I know I am done, yet, I fool myself into thinking I can keep going, but at what pace, at what cost. I am certainly done, but I believe I can still make the body go. It is the greatest lie.

I walk out, with 2 water bottle. And I keep walking. I try a time or two to run, but there is no fuel in the tank. The sun is up and the trees offer much less shade than they did earlier. I seem to be in the open much more often now, up on the side of the levee, dragging my feet thru one sandy area after another. I don't recall this much sand from the last loop. A runner catches me and I try to run with him, managing 10 minutes with a very strong effort that slides away at the first climb. he is gone when the second guy passes. I don't even try this time. I make it to the aid station where they are both refilling their water. I sit down in the shade of the tent and swallow an entire bottle of water, refill and then sit again. Three more people come in while we are all there. I leave with the threesome but last only 50 yards and they are gone. On the open levee now, the wonderful wind seems so nice until I realize I have to push myself thru it. Damn, I really should have stopped back there when I knew better. I want to head strait down the levee, but each time the trail leads off the side, I take it. I keep telling myself to go strait back, but my mind wanders and I take each side track all the way back in. Heck, it makes no difference yet I have been preprogrammed to never ever cut the course. Makes no sense, but that requires some thought.

I finally slog into the finish area and it really is the finish this time because I am done. Another fellow comes in about 5 minutes later and Janice tells him he has won the 35km distance. I think, "hey I beat him", and then realize I wasn't considered an official runner. I don't count! Oh well. I had a great 25km run and an awful 10km hike. Life is good. I find the cafe for an air-conditioned sit down with beer and a burger with Moogy.

Back into the heat, I head out to tear down the first aid station, then come back and wait. There are 4 guys on the final 15km of the 50km and 4 women as well. This last station comes in soon after, tore down, and done. More waiting as I suck down whatever cold drink I can bum from anybody. I can't believe how dehydrated I am. I was not thinking to run and neglected bringing what I needed to do so, including immediately after. I was just supposed to be a grunt. When the last person comes in, it takes us only minutes to tear down all the remaining tents and load them into my truck. It is down and so am I. Now, I just need to drive myself back to Austin. Fortunately, I can sit for this adventure.

Chris did an excellent job of laying out a top notch event, and all for the price of nothing. The course, so well marked, it was near impossible to get lost, unless you try to cut the course, and then you are rightfully hosed. The balanced aid stations and east to support bike trails made for a very easy to manage event. The trail was very fun to run, unless you can't stand turns. There wasn't any very long climbs, but the short ones were endless, with they way you went up and over the levee. It was the heat that took its toll on all. On a cooler day, I suspect that this course would be very fast. A final bit of great news was the beer and burger