We leave Austin at 3am, speeding thru the early morning, heading north on I-35. Arriving at Rockledge Park on the north side of Dallas by 6am, we collect our packets, ready our gear, then sit down to wait.

One more time... I try one of my old favorite race plans: the Go out fast so that when I die I wont have far to walk. I tend to use it on days that start wonderfully cool but I know are going to heat up. Rockledge in early November always seems to mark the same weather pattern every year, so I run the same worthless plan at every Rockledge. And I always blame my body when its over when I should place the lions share of the blame on my mind. No, it never works. Yes, I will likely do it again. This time, I add the additional burden of Brice who plans to hang with me on this adventure. Yes, I warned him. I'm not sure what he's thinking but I do know he plans to hang on. He'll see how it unfolds, but I did tell him I already knew. He loves it.

The weather this morning is a tweener! Cold enough for sweats if standing about, but warm enough for shorts and Ts if running. So I dress for the heat but keep the sweats on til we start. Pocket shorts today so I can carry a few packets of hammer and my salt caps. I don't remember the ground beating up my feet much in years past, so I go with Vasque Velocity and Injinji tsocs. The hat and water bottle complete my gear. Brice as usual has no shirt. Just looking at him gives me the shivers. About to start when I realize I neglected to pin my race number on. By the time I find it and pin it on, the herd has departed.

Brice and I catch the trailers quickly and then weave thru. Its a bit of pavement to start and we're where we should be by the time we reach the dirt trail. Back and forth we flow with the tide of runners, until we settle in with Barbara & George Hitzfield. The trail is single track that seems to snake about as it follows the lake's contour. It sweeps left and right as it goes up and down. Mostly worn smooth, but with a bundle of boulders scattered here and about. I don't have to use my hands on any of the climbs but there are times I should. Some of the ground is pulverized to powder while some is hard pack. Seems such a mix over such short sections of time and place. George and I talk as we roll along such that my minds eye is elsewhere. Everything real that I see is peripheral to where my thoughts are. Its amazing that I don't trip as I'm not paying much attention to where I am or what I'm doing.

The first aid station comes at us quickly. Too quickly! I have no need to stop and roll thru. Brice and I are alone for minutes only before the Hitzfields are back. We begin again to discuss other places and other races. There's a patch of asphalt now and again, and even one section in the middle of the woods. The asphalt may be fast, but when running a trail race, I just don't care for it. One asphalt piece even crosses a creek on a cute little cobblestone bridge.

The next aid station is again treated like the first and again we lose and regain the Hitzfields. Barbara is quiet and seems to be running very comfortably while I can hear Brice starting to suck air. I say something to him about controlling his breathing and he laughs, 'Yea right!' The 3rd station seems to come even quicker. I stop this time for water along with the others. The route from here mixes a bit of road and trail and then starts to swing a bit more drastically about. The ascents and descents seem to be steeper and more twisted. Brice and I steal a small gap on G&B for a bit as they don't attack the downs as quickly as Brice and I do. We're a bit reckless as we sprint down the slopes with speed enough to carry us over the next one. With the right sequence of hills and valleys, we catch some air once or twice on some of the humps. We find the end aid station way too soon. I counted off the runners as they went past on the return and found us at 10 and 11.

We have been taking both hammer and salt on the hour and refilling water when necessary. The aid stations have been left unused except to refill. Again, we simply pass it by, turning and heading back. G&B are right behind us. Brice offers to let them pass but they decline. Barbara says something about mountain goats and patiently waits for us to die. Going back on this section is as much fun as going out, but the energy meter begins to falter. Each screaming descent steals a bit more fuel and we begin to hesitate on the rises. Still we make good time. We stop at the next station to get more water. The cool morning is gone and the sun stares at us every time we clear the trees. We are drinking much more water now. I take a handful of cool grapes as well. G&B have gone out ahead of us for the first time and likely the last. I tell Brice that they'll finish an hour ahead of us if not more. Soon after Brice says he's walking, but I have yet to reach that point, so I am alone. Tooling along, I see George ahead, so it looks like Barbara has leaving him behind as well. Looks like our Grande Troupe has completely splintered all at once. I had no doubt about it really and am frankly amazed I remained so close to G&B this long. I give it some gas in hopes of hooking up again with George but after a few rises and falls I realize it aint going to happen. I let it go. I back off in hope of saving what I got left. Thru the final station on our way back from the initial loop, I again bear the brunt of the sun. My time is over. My energy flees as quickly as that. I start to run and feel so little energy that it's a real struggle to build any momentum whatsoever. My run, no faster than an easy walking pace. I do a double shot of Hammer this time and take my last 3 salts. I start again to run, no more than a shuffle then stop.

My old friend Mitch Allen comes by and asks me what I'm doing. Well I'm just waiting for you, I say. I pick it up and try to hang on. We talk of old times and the new. I put on a game face and carry on as if this is easy when it is not. We go along together for 20 minutes before the game is up. Its a good rise and I have to walk it. Mitch does not, and then he too is gone. After the rise, I decide to keep up the pace I stole from Mitch, but with nobody there to keep me honest, I fall back to so much less. Finally, I clear the trees on the final twisted shoreline. Expecting to melt under the sun's glare, I'm welcomed by a wonderful breeze that lifts my spirits and my energy just enough to run back in to the main station.

The final 30 yards is a set of wide spaced steps up to a pavilion. I climb these slowly and then find a chair on top. I ask Neil Hewitt if he'd mind getting my bag from the car, which he does. I need a new load of Hammer and salt. What I had is gone. I eat some beans and rice while I wait. I reload and then start the second loop. Thankfully, this loop is almost half the distance of the first one. We go out the other side of the pavilion then wrap around the base back the way we came in. Past a family fishing from the shore, around a parking area, through a field, across the road, past the bathroom, down the ramp, and finally back to the dirt trail. Letha had loaded my water bottle with ice. My hands are both frozen. I keep switching hands but now I need a third.

My energy is not much improved from the break or the fuel. I struggle to increase pace, and find some sort of half run/walk that will move me forward albeit slow as hell. Looks like this is my new pace. I'm surprised that none pass me, at first. It may be that they're all dealing with the heat in a similar manner that I am. I see Brice finally. We pass without saying much but I get the impression that he's done. There are quite a few people still out there, spread all over the course and all moving in various ways and means. Even the leaders coming back in to finish don't look all that chipper.

The wonderful rolling trail aint quite so wonderful this time. Each climb is done painfully slow, followed by an imitation run down the other side and along the next flat. I drink all my water before the first station and need to reload. I stop to pour water over my head and then load the water bottle with more ice. My walk/run does not improve as I had hoped it would after some time. I continue to make some progress as best I can. The leaders have gone by already and now here's Barbara, looking smooth as ever. The others roll by soon after. I make the 2nd station and get more ice water again and sit in the shade for a few minutes.

As I leave, they tell me the turn is 0.9 miles away. I hear this but it makes no sense. The next aid station aint that close. I forget about what they said quickly. Half a mile out, Mitch comes flying by, saying he missed the turn around and added another two miles. Then another person passes saying the turn is just ahead on a bridge. I was expecting the turn to be at a station and am damned glad I was warned. I would likely have done as Mitch did. And then I see it. A hand drawn sign saying turn around posted on a bridge. Mark Dick arrives as I do on his bike. I ask for Advil and he looks for some. Finally I leave while he continues to look.

I warn the next 4 or 5 people going out about the turn. Easy to miss - look for a bridge! I finally begin to feel better now that I am heading home. No more out-n-backs. No more loops. Strait back and done. I stop to get more ice from the next station and keep going.

I actually develop something that resembles a steady pace for a bit. Maybe the hammer is finally starting to work. I suspect Brice has dropped because I should have seen him by now. Others file by and some look to be running pretty well. More and more energy seems to be flowing in me again as I get to going better now than I have in awhile. I go thru the last station as a group is heading out. I don't stop this time. The shore again and to the pavilion, I jog up the stairs this time. Brice is sitting on the top step with a big smile. You ready to head back to Austin, he says. Yea Brice, I'm ready, but first let me get a few very cold drinks down.

An hour later, we're speeding down I-35, and in Austin by 5pm.

And what did I learn? Nothing! My mind continues to collect memories but can no longer sort them all out into this race or that, this year or that. Everything now rolls together into a large mass of meaningless strobes. I now recall what I need just moments after it is no longer useful. Those thoughts right on the edge of recall stay there, and tend to piss me off after awhile so that I try to forget them. I have resorted to just showing up and doing what feels right at the moment. Heck, sometimes this even works. Usually it doesn't. I'm working on just recalling the good memories. That is my new goal.