
and so we ran 'the course of a thousand hills', because really, the only thing consistent throughout the race (clearly not my heart rate or pace) were the unrelenting inclines. runners hurriedly shuffled across wide, open, scorched farmland to get to the respite of some shaded trail, to then grind to a trudging halt when confronted with 7 or 8 rollers, before resurfacing into yet another field.

a few hours (and several litres of cytomax) later, we crossed into the finish chute (thankfully bidding farewell to the 50 miler's who had registered for a third loop) burnt, bitten, salt encrusted, and turgid with gummy bears and pretzels.

2 comments:
Yeah! Absolutely NOTHING like those other nutters...
Where's the margarita flavored gatoraid again?
i was ready for a full body baptism in a frozen margarita by the end of this little venture.
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