The wind has a nice stinging bite to it, at 17 degrees, cold and exhilarating. Perfect for an all day run in southern Arizona. The moon appears large riding bareback on the Santa Rita Mountain ridge. It's a postcard moment, with a line of runners chasing a very large and quickly fleeing moon up the road and out of Kentucky Camp. The 2007 Old Pueblo 50 miler has begun. I looked at a map of the area yesterday, but the only thing that made sense to me were the endless names of gulches, mines, springs, and mountains. Never being here before, none of it means a thing, except the tight lines marking long climbs and descents. I like both sides of these, for the long rest going up and the quick fun coming down. Its the flats that scare me! Even with good wool socks and excellent gloves, my hands and feet are already numb, but I don't dwell on it. My patience in these things is getting better, even though it bothers me more now than it used to. Each of us, buried in our own mind, consider our decisions... about clothes, food, and so on. Our social skills as stiff as our legs and our jaws: monosyllables are the best we can do. "Cold", "Yep", "Moon", "Nice", "Turn", "Thanks". In time, though, we graduate a few syllables. "Where ya from?", "Alaska!", "You", "Texas", "Great", "unggggggg". The course is well marked such that there is never a moments hesitation in direction of route. Thankfully, our disconnected herd of lemmings seem to be doing just fine without the finer trappings of good communication skills. I am not sure I've ever started a race so tentatively. I don't feel well, but I wanted to come and have a look about. I had heard how beautiful this area was and just didn't want to miss. My thoughts usually begin with questions about my body's ability to maintain what I've started. Today, the questions are more concerned about getting started. The fever has left my body but the aches remain. My back and legs mostly, but in my arms and neck too. Coming back from some distant mental destination, I find myself in a long pace line bunched up on a long downhill. "What's going on?" I ask nobody in particular. "Oh its alright", says the guy in front of me. "Its a long day and everything will work out". By the time, we reach a spread out point, our pace line has grown to 25 people, and we wash over and around all those in front rapidly. But now we're back on a road again. The downhills seem to go on much longer than I expect, but then again, so do the the uphills. I'm not certain if my ruined synapses exaggerate everything or if this is truly the case. And so I become aware of my old friend Moogy in a loose pack of 8 or 10, including a few Alaskans, both of us battling a cold we've had way too long. Moog is a much better climber than I, but I'm a bit faster descending, so we ping back and forth for miles, until the portojon. It calls to me from the side of the road. A little dab of Desiten is what I need to chase the chafe away. But its a risky operation as the boat rocks while I try to manage my business. I hear somebody outside saying he's putting rocks under it to stabilize it. Surely he must know I am inside. the storm continues but I somehow escape with my life and dignity. But I have lost Moogy and my Alaskan friends. Alone and on one heck of a long climb, I slowly make my way, power walking as best I can. Nobody in sight before or behind, but then again... I am close to blind. Gunsight Pass takes a bit of time, but I have a bit to give. Sweating, I roll across the summit into a very hard and cold wind. As I start down the other side, I delay just long enough to put my hat and gloves back on. What a view looking off into the desert from this lofty summit. But the route is not a strait line so I cannot tell where I'm going to end up. I simply follow the flags and roll off the mountain. I run out of water just as I come into mile 19. It is the first time, I have even thought about distance or location. Still, I don't have a clue where I am. I sit down to have a sandwich and a dog tries to take it from me. I top off and rise to leave when Gabe comes in. I stop to wait for him but he insists I go on. Alone still, I walk down the road and turn down another. Short stunted barrel cactus line the road. Only 2 feet tall, and almost as wide, these toad cactus lean toward the road, appearing to want to leap. They make me laugh and this makes me walk faster. I try to run but the wind is coming hard and direct into me. There is nobody and I begin to wonder for just a moment. I stop on a short rise to look behind me. At least a dozen people, all pretty close behind. Wow! I had no idea. I hope I'm going the right way because they all seem to be following me. The land rolls and dives but in the desert you just can't tell what it's doing until you're in it. Tom Garrison come rolling past me, gliding effortlessly, and appears to not be moving fast, but disappears so quickly as to make me feel inadequately slow. But the others, remain as dots back there. We slip into a sandy arroyo, through a Private Property gate, and wind around up above and over the next ridge. It reveals the 25mi aid station on a twisted up dirt road. in the middle of nowhere. I sit down behind a stone road post and beg for drinks. Janice is there and offers up a few Advil. As I get up to go, like clockwork, here comes Gabe. I am not certain if it was the Advil, or if it was the mid-point mental game, or the company, but I finally get it going. The Alaskan's seem to pop up everywhere, as I find myself climbing the long road out of this Box Canyon with another one. Anne and I talk it up while we push the pace for miles. Maybe my legs are enjoying the work as it never does cross my mind that this is tough. The confirmation cards on the road side as we near the next station are excellent motivational tools: my favorite being - "Pain is Weakness Leaving Your Body". This is mile 29 and I have a drop bag here. I finally ditch my long sleeve shirt and flashlight. I also get my first refill of Spiz. I am finally feeling good. I was wondering if my self pity was going to stay all day and am very pleased to feel the blues slip off and go looking for a another poor soul. Oh sure, my legs hurt, my throat's sore, and everything aint just perfect, but damn if I don't feel great. Anne has gone ahead while I suffer through my changes, but I catch back up quickly. Either she speeds up, I slow down, or maybe both, but we continue on together for a bit longer thru this single track heaven with breathtaking views in every direction. It seems like only minutes before we roll into the 33 mile station. Again Anne gets out quickly while I visit a bit longer with Roger & son. The fake rattlesnake at the exit is a nice touch. This time, I go past Anne without connecting. Our gears are no longer in sync.I love this sort of trail and start to really push it a bit through here. A woman has been passing me "running up" every hill since mile 25 and I pass her on every rocky descent that she gingerly goes down while I crash past her. Another woman seems intent on staying just ahead of her. They both appear to be running very strong, but the insanity of my descents keeps me around them both for many miles. The route wends its way through a series of almost dry washes and almost dry creeks that are pastoral settings worthy of a romantic picnic: rock steps, trickling water, overhanging shade trees. I run on sand that is wet without getting my shoes wet. I seem to be setting the pace for this group as they are all spaced evenly behind me and holding onto what I have dealt. It is all good. Whatever reason we can all find to motivate us to the finish has got to be good. The sound of Celtic flutes snake through the trees and finds me just before the 40mi aid station: as pleasant a sound as I could have imagined. Janice again waits on me with a few drinks, and a refilled SPIZ bottle. Gabe comes in same as usual just as I am leaving. So does Monica. I am a mile down the road before I realize I have forgotten my fanny pack. Damn! My gloves, hat, light, bathroom kit, chapstick, and all. Really does make me angry. Do I have enough light left? I should, but I hate being unprepared. I'll just have to go faster to make certain. Last thing I want to do is run out of light out here. I only have a short sleeve shirt on and no light. Damn! So I determine to go faster. The road becomes a trail and very rugged one at that. My kind of trail. So, I up the ante and spin faster. Up the hills and down the trails. Seems to be working for a bit. A fellow out for a run goes past the other way and says I'm 3 miles out. Ok! I am about to bust past a jeep load of bubbas on a very steep downhill, when a thought crosses my mind and I pull up right next to the jeep. "You guys have beer in there?" Sheepish looks of surprise followed by a "Yes". "Hey, why don;t you let me have one of those ice cold beers!?" The cooler comes out and they hand me a Budweiser. I pop it, and down the can, bend over and crush it with my heel. I hand the empty back with a "Thanks" and then start running again. The guy out for a run and another has just come back and we hook up just as I leave the beer jeep. "Very nice" he says as the bubbas whoop it up. A few beer burps sends me along very well. But now the beer has me buzzing. We drop one fellow, but I hang onto my new found pacer. Our run has become a romp as we sprint along for miles. With nary a hiccup or stutter step, we roll through the rocks and trails for a couple of good conversations and on into the final aid station, where he stops. Its only 4 or 5 more miles from here so I sit for just a moment and then get back up and start to roll again. This final section is an easy one with which to roll. Without an idea of direction, my carrots being each and every flag to lead me along. A drop into a creek leads up to a road with two guys just in front of me. I look to my left to see the flags going left while the 2 guys have missed and gone strait. I yell at them, the miss, thinking they really want to know. They both stop and stare. I point left and then run left. They both turn around and come back. Now I see that it was just a short corner skip and no big deal. They were likely both fine but oh well, I was just trying to help. Got other things to do, so I forget about them and push up the hill, running! The top is a long ridge of rocky road. I turn right and go quickly past another. "You Joe?" she asks. "Yep" "Guy back there says he hates you", "says you always pass him at the end of another race" The wind is screaming in my ears and by the time I reason out what she said, I am 30 yards in front of her and keep going. How long is this ridge, I wonder? Nothing to do now but get it done. The rocky trail dips a little and then a sharp left turns onto single-track. Out of the wind and descending, I go faster. A switch back and then a grassy track through the trees. A few gates and past a few people and then I hear a bell ringing. No kidding! I must be done. Last little uphill twist and the clock at 11:03. I had no idea how close I was until I was done. I have to say, that I have never been on a better marked course. For a half blind idiot who has never been here before, didn't study any of the course, and had no idea where he was the entire 50 miles, I was never once lost or concerned. The buckle is beautiful, the course is a rolling romp of loveliness, the volunteers friendly, and the cool temperature well suited for me to perfection. I had an excellent run and weekend.