Saturday, October 24

  • 2 Larabars
  • GF English muffin

Sleep: 8.25 hours in bed, 9p-515a, 83% quality. Had a h/s/g wake-up at 230a, probably due to a bag of chips as supper. Motel room was awesome, bed was not so much. Also forgot to pack my phone charger, but used sleep app for an alarm, and thus was paranoid the battery would die and I would wake up 2 hours late - also making sleep crappy.

Healthy Movement: Stood for 12 straight hours in new winter boots: not the most comfortable way to break them in, but it was chilly & muddy, and they were perfectly dry & warm. Drive home wasn't awful, but once I got there, the body certainly felt a bit trashed.

Fun & Play: Surf the Murph fun! Set up an aid station in the dark; drank hot coffee while directing runners and offering cheers & compliments & silliness, and chatting with a new runner pal; reconnected a bit with Matt and officially met Bob, pal of my Superior savior John; pet so many dogs, including a 9.5-week-old chocolate lab named Porter; chitchatted with Heidi while she took pictures & I shirked my real duties, instead keeping up the cheers & silliness. At noon I moved on to another aid station, full of chitchat with UMTR peeps, silliness like labeling the Grape Crush as Purple Drank, and experimenting with burning junk food in the fire. I was admonished for getting a hotel room the night before when Doug & Maria "live like 8 minutes away, and have two empty rooms, and just call us next time!" I love talking to Kevin, who is 17 but acts 27 and talks 77; it's just a delight to see a teen surrounding himself with adults who treat him as an equal, and I had a nice convo with him about BK. I was offhandedly introduced to Wilson (an amazing runner I watched kill some miles last year at Icebox) on his way out, but he stopped and held a nice conversation rather than getting on his way like I expected. I laughed my ass off at Todd & Wendy's antics, so very much smartassery flying at this AS. The race winds down and runners get really slim late in the day, so the runners who do finally come through, on the last lap of fifty motherfucking miles, receive the fanfare of a Superbowl touchdown. Just such a lovely, fun group, that although they began encouraging me to head home at 5p, and I wanted to get going, I just didn't want to leave them. I stayed until 6, my official end time, and 12 hours logged. Sped home in just over 2 hours, to a HUBS, home for the night only. Thrilled pooches & kittehs that I was already back. My own bed.

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