Yet again I skimped on a campsite and ended up getting one far too small for my tent and car. Well, I would just have to live with the crowded conditions for a short while.
Like Def Leppard in the song "Rock of Ages", I knew that this would be an opportune time for pyrotic delight, for I was most definitely "gonna start a fire!"
This is my historic recreation of the effects of the "Great Fire of Rome" on Nero's Domus Transitoria, but I am not sure that it is giving off the effect I was looking for.
RD Mike Silverman, having repaired the electricity that went down momentarily, begins to tell us that we are in for a day of both fun and suffering (and do they not go together well?)
To the far right: KZ. In the middle: Jen. To the left: Mr. "I only race in this shirt."
A quick pic at the start from my traditional "back of the back of the back of the pack" position.
The line of runners trails off into the distance like a string of lights on a fully stocked christmas tree (Imagine all the fuss they would make if they were truly hanging on a tree. Where is their holiday spirit?)
Hey! Wait up, you bastards!
I like how we are already exhibiting the runner's hangdog uphill look. And it is only the second mile.
This is pretty. Agree with me or we will certainly duel at dawn (pistols or swords? The choice is yours as I issued the challenge.)
Heading up the hills. See the trees fallen to the ground? Soon the trail will be littered not only with trees, but also with the bodies of fallen runners.
Tall trees with little barren stubby branches over a trail consisting of soft pine needles and smooth earth. I can just feel the serotonin being released across the synaptic cleft and subsequently binding to the dendritic receptor. Ahhh. Good stuff.
Foliage. It's kind of like foil except that one is the shedding of photosynthetic organs that are unfeasible to maintain in winter, and the other is a bright shiny metal paper. Similar, yet different.
The top of Garvin Hill, Scene One. See those mountains in the distance? They are located somewhere else far away from where I am right now.
Garvin Hill, Act Two: The Sequel. More trees and hills. It looks more spectacular when it is not crushed into a 4x6 inch space.
Garvin Hill, Part Three: The Trilogy. Why do I keep taking these pictures that disappoint me due to their limited size and scope? Perhaps because without them I would be lost, adrift in a sea of poor long-term memory.
Garvin Hill The Quintet: a Tetrarchy of Photography. Well, enough photos for now. I don't want to miss any cutoff times, now do I?
Little horsey guy says "Enough with the photos and make with the canter!" He also says "Knight to Queen's Bishop three. Checkmate." And the Red King falls...
Another mountain in the distance. Look at that sky. It looks like you can just reach up and grab a bit of fluffy cloud, but you cannot. Trust me, I have spent hours trying to no avail.
I smile/wince at the Jimmy Buffett fan club aid station. I smile for the music and the company, and I wince because I abuse my body no end.
Had to get a pic with the sign. Only a few miles to the last cutoff. I have plenty of time...or do I? Damn my love of race photography! It almost cost me a race.
I think that I could stand living in that mansion in the distance, if someone put a gun to my head, as long as the gun wasn't there 24/7, because that would just be awkward.
Single track trail though some serious pricker-bushes. Not the place to go streaking (pick a stadium themed sporting event instead. That's what all of the sensible streakers do.)
Well, I made the final cutoff (by seconds), so I feel no guilt at stopping for a quick picture of this rock-themed foot bridge. Now that is what I call stonemasonry.
This is the final 2.8 miles. All I have to do is run up and down Ascutney mountain. Hey, I am already in so much pain what's a little more?
Hey, it looks like I have found a kindred wise-guy! Wow, no wonder people find me so annoying.
This race was run wearing the finest Building 19 wicking socks (a steal at only $1.00 per pair.) Chris and Christine insist that they are cotton, but I say nay! Who is right? Turn the page and find out!
Oh, yeah! Acrylic + nylon + dyed acrylic + lyrca spandex = STEVE WINS THE ARGUMENT! And to think that some people were tossing away $6.00 at Kohl's. Man, some people do think money grows on trees. (PS These are the only Spandex I will ever wear. Period. 1% is my absolute limit.)
It took me 12 hours, 9 minutes and 25 seconds to earn this medal. Totally worth it. Last year's DNF has been avenged! A great wrong has been righted! Justice has been served...on a platter...with interest!