My Mommy and me. She is so very proud of me despite the fact that I have a pink bandana covered in kittens hanging from my belt pouch.
Milford race co-ordinator Chris Costantino. She pulled out all the stops and cranked out the rootin'-tootinest Start/Finish aid station this side of the Mississippi.
I am such a ham as I pose with the bullhorn as if simulating that I am using it. The fact of the matter is... I am not! Sure fooled you, didn't I?
What doesn't look like 150 runners lined up and awaiting the start time while also dreading the pre-race speech.
Every girl crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed race director!
And they're off! I'm in no rush to catch up with them- I'll be here all day. And all night. And most of tommorow. And I've just psyched myself out. And I wanna go home.
Heading down the trail. About 1/2 mile in. I had better stop taking pictures and get on with the running stuff.
I mess with my own head. Not recommended, but worth a little laugh in the end.
A friendly ghost both helps me by pointing the way while also freakin my scared silly self out!
Two of my favorite things- A nice foot bridge, and a lost soul of the damned. Too bad there is that rough hill to the left which drains the mood.
I asked Chris Costantino to fill in two holes we had on the trail. She took this to mean that we would rework a mile of the trail with extensive labor. Hello, 10x10 corridor! A pleasure to make your acquaintance.
He does good work, I've got to hand it to him (HA!).
More trail work. The two small holes are up ahead, or at least they were. Maybe.
Had to get a pic of the racoon ears and tail. A couple of people came with costumes. I am glad I abandoned my idea of running in a full business suit. I figured it was polyester and thus wicking, but it would have probably brought with it a level of chafing best left unexplored.
Somehow I caught up with some people and was able to enjoy their company. That's what trail running is all about!
John Bigl brings a high level of professionalism and enthusiasm to the Power Lines aid station. I can't tell you how much I wanted to crawl in that tent after I hit mile, well, three actually.
Heading past Four Corners into the long corridor. This part often felt like the dream where I am running and running and running and not moving at all. The good news is that I only had to feel this forteen times here. The bad news is that this is not the only section I felt it.
Michelle has been studying with certain Buddhist monks in Tibet over a period of decades to try and master the elusive art of levitation. The results speak for themselves.
"Yeah, go over there. What the hell do I care?"
"I will eat your soul!"
"Mess with me and get a bloody karate chop!"
A group of runners decided to finish their race, don some Renaissance garb, and then cheer the rest of us along. Much appreciated.
J-HOM and Lil' Roy being goofy on the trail. It's kind of a tradition.
Awesome pumpkins on the railroad trestle.
Yup, that's the goal.
Ah, my favorite reaper. After about 60 miles I could swear I saw him move, and I heard a dry rasping chuckle in my ear, and I heard Christine telling me to come towards the light. She meant her headlamp, since I was just sitting there staring at him and drooling only slightly.
I focused on my race and didn't take as many pictures as I wanted, but luckily Michelle Roy had my back and nabbed this beauty. Thanks, Michelle! Congrats to all runners, thanks to all volunteers, and I hope we will see you next year!