Key pre-race preparations at home in Santa Fe.
At the pre-race activities in Sylacauga, AL
This sign eliminated a lot of confusion.
Final drop bag tweaking.
To kill time, I went to the local museum. Thankfully, parking was not a problem.
The museum featured an entire room devoted to local-boy-made-good Jim Nabors.
It was almost like they were in the room. Spooky.
Some of the displays seemed strangely Elvis-like.
Jim Nabors did not hide his love of punch. This bowl tells the story.
This was the highlight of the Carter presidency. Toothy grins all around.
Am I the only one who questions the presence of this fine work in the Museum gift shop?
This made me think I could make a gold record too. Just sing a bunch of Christian hymns and watch the duckets roll in.
RD Todd Henderson at the pre-race briefing. He banned dropping. Tough love.
The next morning, at 4am, we boarded this school bus at the race finish and "enjoyed" a 1.75 hour ride to the race start in Heflin, Al.
It was dark and very, very cold at the start. Apparently, the success of the Tea Party has eliminated global warming.
Backpacker's hut along the Pinhoti singletrack, which we followed for 81 miles. These were just a few of the many backpackers who refused to fry me up some bacon on demand.
Runner's tackle the buttery Pinhoti - which goes great with bacon, btw!
My great friend John Taylor, straight out of St. Paul, Mn. Represent.
This is a photo of me running. Un-capture-able.
The sun revealed some tasty vistas to the north. Just kidding, I have no idea what direction this is.
Taylor the photog.
I am experimenting with my artistic side. Very Blair Witch, no?
John "the blur" Taylor
One of the early AM aid stations.
Heading for the sun!
I think this is like mile 18 or so.
Crossing Interstate 20.
Back on the trail, near mile 24.
Reflecting on life's bigger questions was a recurrent theme for the day's run. Especially while crossing this highly reflective pool of water.
This sweet jalopy is ready for an extensive overhaul.
People sure do love shooting signs.
Mile 38ish aid station b4 the climb up Mount Cheaha, Alabama's highest peak.
Me showing abundant nipple atop Mount Cheaha. You're welcome.
Sweet Cheaha boardwalks near mile 41.
Cheaha aid. I picked up my lights and backpack here, as night was already approaching.
The trail down Cheaha was kind of an unfortunate rock jumble. Unless you have goat power, of course.
Looking back at Cheaha.
random trail stairs for non-goats
Photo around mile 48, right before dark. Note the phantom M&Ms. I was listening to "evacuate the dance floor" when I took this. Cascadia. Huzzah!
13 hours later, morning broke. ouch.
Around mile 93.
We ran on ass-fault into town.
The finish was in a sweet estadio de futbol!
Photo I took while sprinting to the finish.
Me post race. Meaty quads, no?
btw, I finished.
A lot of the fans were getting snacks, I think. After this, I showered, drove to Birmingham and endured two miserable flights and a drive to Santa Fe. In bed by 2am.