Same campsite for four years running. Tradition, or obsession? It's a fine line.
That boy ain't right.
Testing out the new Coleman canopy system with LED lighting for Ghost Train. We're in the big leagues now! (and not just because we enjoy Big League Chew, either).
There is nothing more relaxing that camping in the woods to get away from it all.
Eric Vouga and Scott Cox ready for their first 50. Living in flatlands, their hill training consisted of the single 0.2 mile hill they could find. So, they ran it. 50 times. Up and down. Per session. Anyone who can do that can do anything.
Obligatory picture of the fire. "Did the fire look at you?" -Crazy guy in some fire-related movie I watched like ten years ago.
Coffee in hands, bibs on legs, smiles on faces. Two out of these things would soon be completely gone. Can you guess which two?
Sure are a lot of people around here! People with helmets- mountain bikers or a special needs convention? Maybe a little of both (zing!).
Not one of my better pictures.
I take a photo of Leah taking a photo. Why I still think doing this is funny is beyond me, or those who know me, or especially those who don't.
Misting in the forest, sweet single track amidst tall pines, shiny gear on bodies, only 49.5 miles to go. All is (mostly) well in the world.
Okay, so those aren't pines, but they *are* trees. And that is about the limits of my knowledge of arboreality.
Eric ran much like this the entire way. He must be sore as the Dickens today (insert victorian author-related joke here; I'm just too damn tired).
I snag a rare picture with Leah. The trick is to sneak up on her and take it while she is unawares. Otherwise, she'll hit you upside the head with a hockey stick.
"I'll drink to that!"
My camera lens is covered in high-quality H2O, the effect of which is reminiscent of the orignal Star Trek when a hot chick entered the sceen and the hauting "oooooohhh-ooooooohhh" music came on, except there is not hot chick. *sigh*
Eric, Scott, and maybe that annoying guy who told us he was a cop, navy seal, and the world record holder for chin-ups (6,000 in two hours). Also, he completed a spartan race the week before and was in the top ten. I call BS on that. a Cop Seal Chinmaster would have taken first, second and third place and then beaten up people as they finished. Liar.
I love the green corridor. Even at 30+ miles I still feel a little bit of joy at seeing it. The joy quickly leaves when I slip on the &*#% mud that coated the trail due to heavy rain all day long. 20% chance of rain, my ass! As Eric says, the weathergirl might have been a beauty, but she knows nothing about weather. Beauty trumps competance yet again!
Zeus looked upon the clouds and spoke, saying "Upon my signal, unleash hell." And then the thunderer nodded his mighty head. And behold, a pale cloud, and his name that sat upon him was Storm, and hell followed with him. (Man, I am such a drama queen).
I figured I had a DNF for sure since I had not yet seen the "Five Miles to finish" sign. Seconds later, I came to this sign and had a rush of elation that I would not DNF. Then, I had a moment of sadness that I had to run four miles instead of only 1.2 miles to the DNF aid station. Man, I was really looking forward to that sweet DNF and a nice, comfy chair. What a letdown this sign turned out to be!
Looking down the slope at the ski lodge and finish line. Still have a mile to go because of awkwardly sloped muddy switchbacks, but I only fell about 12 times so it wasn't too bad.
Although I might have smiled to volunteers, fellow runners, and casual onlookers, this is the face I was wearing the rest of the time. This, my friends, is the real me.
Third Vermont 50, seventh 50 miler, 29th ultramarathon, and 47th "Marathon and Beyond." I have a problem, and I need help. Speaking of which, is it time to start thinking about retiring these bad boys? Personally, I think they have another 1,000 miles on them. If only they weren't full of holes and with threadbare soles. Farewell, sweet shoes. You will be remembered with honor.