Race Report: 2013 Surf the Murph 50 Mile

Pre-Race: Would I be ready?

Throughout the year, I had been working toward running the Surf the Murph 50 mile ultra-marathon and sharing my intention to go even further in 2014. Consistency in training seemed to be my biggest challenge due to our family's push to prepare our house for sale. Time was a precious commodity, and I struggled to keep up my weekly mileage. The only other race on the calendar, the Chippewa 50K, my first "official" foray into the ultra-marathon world. I had a blast, but honestly it hurt.

Not wanting to repeat the experience with subsequent races, I begin training in earnest, consistently turning out weeks in excess of 30 miles. I was pretty proud of this stretch of training which lasted from July 7th through September 12th. Either through events or a need to take a break, training came to a halt.

While on-call, my professional life requires me to carry around a cell phone and have a laptop close at hand. This prevents me from the most consistent way for me to get mileage in: commute running. A five to eight pound laptop is a bit too much to carry around in a backpack. In addition to on-call, my wife left town for a period of time, leaving me as a sole care-taker for the children. I enjoyed my time with them, obviously, but it severely challenged my ability to train. Finally, we had a major planned outage at work, which took away from my sleep.

Four weeks before the gun, I still hadn't signed up for the race. I wasn't confident I could make full distance. While on Facebook, I learned from one of the co-race directors that I would get credit for completing the 50K – if I made it that far. Fair enough! I signed up on September the 26th for the longest race of my life.

I have always said that the most influential motivator for my training is a race on the calendar. That following weekend, I did my first real Long Slow Distance run for the entire Summer and Fall seasons. Consequently, these following weeks ended up being the largest weekly training mileages I would run for 2013.

Race Day

Although there was an option to camp on-site at the Murphy-Hanrehan Park Reserve, campers were not going to be allowed to stay overnight a second night. My youngest son, Ryan, had a school festival the Friday before the race, so I opted out from camping. I was happy to sleep in my own bed even though it was relatively restless.

I woke numerous times before finally throwing in the towel at 4:00. I never wake up this early, but it was useless trying to stay in bed. I quickly packed a bag, showered and ate. I was out the door a little later than I would have liked, especially after discovering that I was exceptionally low on gas. Regardless, traffic was non-existent and Google Navigation brought me to the park entrance without incident and on-time.

I could feel the energy immediately upon arrival as I dragged my drop-back to the Start-Finish area. I put on my waist belt and jacket then checked in to get my race bib and swag. There weren't too many people at the start line, but enough to feel like an event.

The course consisted of three loops around the suburban trail system, a home for walkers, runners, and horses alike. I hadn't had a chance to run the course ahead of time, so it would be an exercise in discovery for me. Aid stations were to be found around every 3 to 4 miles and were fully stocked. It promised to be an exciting day!

The Beginning

I knew a couple of friends were likely to be running that day, and I was fortunate to run into Todd and his friend before the race started. Everyone was excited, and there wasn't much time left to discuss. The race directors addressed the gathering crowd - flags to the left, stay on trail, let someone know if you're dropping out; the normal pre-race tralk.

We were soon off into the darkness of the morning. A great "fire vurm…" of headlamp light reflecting off vests and clothing, snaking up and down the trail. The first part of the course was relatively sheltered from the morning wind, and the day proved to be dry and beautiful. I spoke for much of the stretch with a runner named Scott. He wore an orange coat and was in good humor.

Eventually I pushed on, for no good reason at all other than it felt good. My strategy was to run the flats, walk the uphills and bomb the downhills. Things went well for me, and soon I was at the Natchez Aid Station, manned by the venerable Upper Midwest Trail Runners association who had stocked it with bacon, a welcome change to the normal station fare.

I don't recall much between Natchez and Smurf Village, but I laughed out loud at the unexpected humorous signs. I came to the end of the first lap in good time, around three hours, but I had begun to develop pain in my knees, a touch of ITB.

Second Loop

I didn't spend much time at the Start/Finish aid station, but I did partake in the soup, gels, and refilled my water. It wasn't long after starting on my second loop that I ran into Les Martisko, the long-time race director. He was fascinating to talk to, with this race being his 350th ultra marathon! He showed concern over my knee pain and suggested I find Ibuprophen if I could. I thanked him and shuffled on by.

Keeping up with the run and hike strategy, I did relatively well, but I struggled emotionally with the growing knee pain. At Natchez, I ran into Shannon Lindgren in a new emotional low. With strong thoughts of dropping, I sat on the ground and tried to stretch out the pain. Shannon was very supportive, and we talked about other things to distract me. Arika Hage, a 2014 At-Large Member of the UMTR, gave thoughtful encouragement. She didn't want to see anyone drop at the Natchez station or anywhere along the course for that matter. She gave me a Vespa drink – this crazy, citrus-tasting liquid containing honey bee Royal Jelly – and sent me back out on the trail!

Encouraged and determined, I made it back to Horse Camp where I again stretched and rested. There was no ice and no Ibuprophen to help with the knee at all, but I decided I may as well finish my second loop and qualify for finishing the 50K. If I had to, I would walk it in.

Somehow, I managed to pick up into a trot and came upon Les again, this time running with another co-director for the race, Jessica. He could see I was hurting, and I shared my thoughts about dropping and my inability to find Ibuprophen on the course. He dug out a few Aleve pills and handed them to me. "You could walk the whole thing and still have time to complete it," he encouraged.

We walked for a bit, and after fifteen or twenty minutes, my knee started to loosen up again. "See! Your form already looks better!" Indeed, I was feeling a lot better! I picked it up to a trot again and made it to the Start/Finish in about 4:30.

Third Loop

For some reason, I was feeling very optimistic again. When asked if I was done, I replied "Let's see!" I didn't take off right away, rather opted to hang out, ice my knee, and get some fuel. It was here that I had run into a fellow trail runner, Steve Tollerud, whom I had first met on the Superior Hiking Trail years ago. He had just finished his 25K and was getting ready to go party with a friend of his at a local beer fest. I was jealous, but determined to try my chance at the last lap. He gave me encouragement and promised to bring me a beer! Awesome!

Looking around the site, I spied a young runner who looked like he might be convinced to go back out. He hadn't taken his gear off yet, and he was stretching out a bit.

"Let's go out together!" I suggested. "Just let me know when you're ready." We stocked up, reset our watches, and headed out. The young man's name was Kevin Chem, a resident of Savage, MN. He was of average height and typical build for a runner, and I had estimated his age as eighteen or nineteen. In conversation, he revealed he was only fifteen! That's one-five!

I was amazed! "Why did you decide to run a 50 mile marathon?" I asked.

"I have self-esteem issues," he replied with a sidelong grin. Right. Self-esteem. Seemed pretty confident to me! His legs were bothering him and my knee was bothering me. We were a pair of broken runners determined to walk the last lap passing the time away with stories of our lives. I shared the remainder of my Ibuprophen with him, and we trudged along.

"Are you on the cross-country team?" I asked.

"No. I told my coach I wanted to run this instead." He replied. Self-esteem issues, I chortled in my head. This kid seemed to have miles of confidence and determination. I learned he was interested psychology and that he and his friends were into robotics. I told him of my life experiences as a college student, a young single graduate, a husband, and a father.

At Horse Camp, we stocked up on Twizzlers, soup, and anything to replenish the calories we had burned along the way. We made it back to Natchez and shouted our way into the aid station. Arika was overjoyed to learn I hadn't dropped yet. Looping to the back side of Horse Camp, I grabbed another handful of Twizzzlers, and we kept moving.

On our way to Smurf Village, I thought I hadn't recognized a leg of the race. Had I cut off part of it by mistake? Possibly, maybe. I couldn't decide. I was so tired and sore, that it almost didn't matter any more. We turned a corner, and I once again recognized the trail - there was no way I could have skipped it in a previous loop.

We continued walking and walking, sometimes dropping into silence to live in our own pain. Eventually, we entered Smurf Village and the sun began to drop. Kevin received a couple of phone calls on the trail - not entirely disconnected from the world around us - to let his friends know he was still out on the trail. It was in this last stretch that they met up with us; first two then three teenage boys in for the final hike.

We crested a large hill as the sun finally hid behind the hills to the West, and Steve was waiting and cheering us on with his runner friend! I love these trail runs, honestly! With congratulations for Kevin and I, we all headed back into the thick of it for the final stretch. Kevin received another call; his parents were now on the trail coming out to meet their son.

The light faded quickly, and Kevin and I donned our headlamps again. His parents soon met up with us, and I congratulated them on raising such a determined and strong son. I could tell that Kevin wanted the race to end, and his energy returned. We left behind his parents and friends, and we trotted into the finish in 12:39! We were not the last people on the trail, but we certainly got our money's worth for the time we spent on it.

Les and John Taylor greeted us at the finish line, a huge grin on Les' face. "Walstrom! You made it!" Indeed I had, thanks to him and all of the great volunteers, and thanks to Kevin for being my partner in pain for the last lap.

We retreated to a warm building for pizza and chili. Steve showed up with that promised beer, which I endured to wait until I got home to enjoy (due to a no-alcohol rule for the park). Todd and his friend also joined us; though I honestly don't remember who arrived first. It mattered little. We had all done it; we had all completed 50 miles that day and walked away with a story of endurance and perseverance.

I love these races.

Afterword

Kevin Chem is ready to do more running and last I heard was likely to attempt the Savage 100 mile ultra-marathon this Spring! His race report for the 50 miler can be found here.

Race Report: 2013 Chippewa 50K

I am now officially an ultra-marathoner, having completed my first race this year at the Chippewa 50K in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin in 6:58:38! Spring 2013 has had some chaotic weather, dumping significant snow volume on the Midwest in weekly bursts followed by warm weather melts. In the sheltered, wooded space of the Chippewa Moraine State Park, the snow presented an interesting challenge for the runners. The North and East-facing slopes held on tenaciously to their drifts and ice slicks, hiding streams of ice-cold melt, while the South and West-facing slopes were alternatively dry or muddy. The conditions would make for an interesting day!
My alarm woke me at 3:45 in the morning after a restless sleep; I was too worried about waking up on-time. My pre-race meal was an oddly delicious mixture of grapefruit, plain vanilla yogurt and fruity pebbles! I threw in the cereal on a whim, but discovered it to be quite tasty! I didn't make coffee like I usually do, but I didn't really miss it. I pulled in front of Steve Quick's house at 04:50, who was raring to go and great company on the road as we made our way East to the race site. We arrived early and found a parking spot right up front. The temperature was a cool 40 with a light breeze with a promise to warm up into the low 70s!

An hour later, after picking up our race packets and fussing about what equipment to run with, we gathered with around 275 runners (unofficial guess) at the starting line for the 6th annual race briefing by co-race director Jeff Allen. Aid stations were positioned at mile 3, 10, and 15 (the turn-around), a nice and even spread. I opted to carry only one water bottle and no belt, though I would have liked to have something to carry gels and S-Caps (something to remember for the next race). Two of the northerly slopes were labeled "WALK" due to the grade of the ice covered descents, and we were informed that miles 12 through 15 were the "worst" on the course. It didn't sound promising.
No one really wanted to stand up near the front, so I lined up near the front third of the pack, contrary to what I originally planned. Given how the race played out, it might have been wiser for me to start further back. Fired up and ready to rock, the race started and we headed out onto the challenging course. Within the first mile, I slipped and drew blood on the ice and sticks; not a great start.
It was soon evident to me that my Brooks Pure Grit shoes were not cut out for ice on the hilly slopes. A lot of energy was expended to stay on my feet, but I was able to continue to push forward. The downhill snow-covered slopes were most easily traversed by "skiing" down them, but it made for wet cold feet. You couldn't be sure what your feet would find underneath the snow: ice, mud, or trail. Miles 10 to 11, however were predictably unpleasant: slushy, snow covered ice melts. There was absolutely no way to avoid it or the frozen toes. Eventually, it tapered off and dried out again.
Somewhere around mile 12 or 13, I ran into Steve, who wasn't feeling well at all. We ran together for a short period, but unfortunately, his stomach problems distracted him from running. We separated, and I didn't see him again until the turn-around. Around mile 13 or so, we entered a pine stand with more sheltered snow drifts. These hills weren't nearly as icy, but there was knee-high snow in some points. Again, the "skiing" technique worked effectively on the downhills, and the duck-walking uphills allowed me to move forward. The trail cleared out again before the turn-around for some fairly runnable stretches.

I arrived at turn-around in 2:59, where I changed into dry shoes, my New Balance MT101s, and socks. It wouldn't take long for them to be soaking wet again, but starting out with dry feet was a plus. John left at 03:10, and I left at 03:12. In a couple of minutes, I managed to catch up with John Taylor and Marty Kanter-Cronin from Wisconsin (who runs with the Lapham Peak Trail Runners). We ran together and talked for a good hour, before I got a second wind and pulled ahead.
The dreaded mile 19 arrived, with the return trip through the icy slush. Whereas there were a few spots you could step without getting entirely soaked on the way out, you couldn't avoid it on the way back. The warm temperatures had melted a sufficient amount of snow to make the trail a veritable icy stream frosted in slush and snow. I couldn't help but giggle uncontrollable at the absurdity of it all. Here we were, grown men and women playing around in the mud and slush. It took no time at all to freeze my toes, and the woman in front of me couldn't stop laughing at my own mirth.
The second-wind didn't last long after that, and I had to switch to a run/walk strategy to keep moving forward. A few miles later, at mile 23, a well intentioned but mis-informed spectator was out encouraging us. "You have only 5 miles left, 3 miles to the next aid station!" It was possible that my GPS was off, but not necessarily off by two miles. I have to say that his intentions were well placed, but the misinformation was more discouraged than helpful.
John was running strong, and he passed me early in this stretch. The next aid station turned out to be four miles later, not three. I counted the miles in estimated time left on-foot. Averaging about 15 miles per hour, it was a slog. When I made it to the last aid station, the volunteers there were awesome. They were very encouraging and brought a smile to my face. I could do this. Only 3 miles left, and I could be done.
With two miles to go, we traversed up one of the two hills labeled "WALK" on the way out. When reaching the top, a mere 25' further was the site of the start and finish, but by the course, it was another 2 miles away! ARG! From an emotional perspective, it seemed that a few of us were in a funk, a low. At least two runners I spoke with were ready to have the race over with, myself included. Interestingly enough, this spurred me to run rather than walk. I wanted simply to be done and be able to sit and relax.
The final mile, a nice, dry, groomed trail, was such a relief. You could view the finish-line, up on the hill at the visitors center, a hill with teeth. Rather than charging up it, I simply walked most of the last mile. Marty and two others caught and passed me on that last hill, but I didn't mind. I was done! Official finish time 6:58:38.
The next couple of hours was spent trying to recuperate from the run. There was plenty of food for the runners and beer! Jeff signed the Finisher's Picture for the race, which I think was a very cool alternative to a medal. He mentioned that ultra-runners form a different type of community dynamic than your typical marathoners closer to a family than simply acquaintances. I certainly got this feeling as we all sat around, chatted, and cheered in the remaining runners!
I am an ultra-marathoner, and I can't get enough of it! (Even though it hurts to walk today!)

2010 Zumbro 100 - A Pacer's Recollection (2 weeks later)

"You're going to do what?" was a frequent question I had regarding plans to pace for Adam Schwartz-Lowe on his journey to complete the Spring 2010 Zumbro 100 mile ultra-marathon.  Why I would want to run 20 miles in the middle of the night on some pretty technical trails, headlamp strapped to my head, seemed an unanswerable question to my friends and family.  This was eclipsed by the fact that Adam was going to run in addition, 4 times that distance!  "I need to make sure he doesn't hallucinate and try to chase a dryad off a cliff in the middle of the night."  For some reason, rather than laughs, that comment only drew disbelieving stares.

The race is held in the Zumbro State Wildlife Area Southwest of Wabasha, Minnesota.  We arrived in the West Assembly Area in the late afternoon for packet pickup and a welcome dinner.  Larry Pederson, his wife, volunteers, and racers were gathered around picnic tables and a smoky campfire enjoying the cool evening.  This certainly wasn't the type of race packet pickup I was used to.  Absent were the vendors pushing their wares, people corralled into lines delineated by subsets of letter ranges, "A-E", "F-J", "H.." to pick up a plastic bag filled with fliers in addition to their race materials.  No, this was a handshake and a smile, and exchange of stories, and a feeling that you were immediately welcome.

From 2010 Zumbro 100

After getting our fill of food, Adam and I split off to settle into camp.  The entire area was as of yet unclaimed.  At $16 for a night of camping, it was also quite cheap!  50 yards away from the Start/Finish shelter, we put up Adam's tent, threw in our sleeping bags, and went back to the shelter to chat.  Over the next few hours, I listened to John Taylor spin tales of seemingly impossible feats of endurance and willpower racing completely unsupported over 130 miles pulling a sled in the frozen North at a race called the Arrowhead.  Matt Patten, John Storkamp and other seasoned runners chimed in with their own amazing tales.

From 2010 Zumbro 100

I was honestly awed at both what I was hearing, and at how open and inviting these people were. The fact that I was standing there seemed good enough to be welcomed in to the group.  Runners are truly amazing people.

The night brought a chill and eventually some frigid temperatures neither Adam nor I were prepared for.  I think my sleeping bag is rated for 20F at best.  I was in three layers of clothing and was getting ready to put on my down vest in order to stay warm.  Adam and I both tossed and turned that night, and I worried for Adam's sake.  He had a very, very long day ahead of him and needed his REM sleep.

It was a frosty morning when we finally got out of bed.  Adam got ready and I wandered over to the Start/Finish shelter.  It took a good hour or two for my toes to feel warm again.  I couldn't complain too loudly, though, given the stories from the previous night.  If only I had invested in a bivy sack or brought another sleeping bag to double-bag!

Matt Patten brought out a very welcome sight...  A row of coffee machines!  If anything could warm us up, it would be a fire (thanks to John Storkamp!) and coffee!  These machines were destined for the other aid stations, which had more powerful generators to power the Kuerig single-cup brewers.  (I love those things!)

From 2010 Zumbro 100

Not everyone in the race camped overnight, and soon the place was starting to get a bit busier.  Granted, we're talking about a couple to few dozen runners and their families or support crews.  Runners were lining up in shorts and t-shirts, and I stamped the cold out of my feet.  Larry gathered everyone to explain the rules of the race.  They were simple and to the point, then he led them out a few yards away from the shelter, past the small cabled fence and launched the runners in a highly unremarkable start.  To a person used to seeing 5k, 10k, or even marathon starts, it would appear that these runners were simply going out for an afternoon jog!

From 2010 Zumbro 100

And that was it!  I was "free" for about four to five hours until Adam completed his first loop.  What the heck was I going to do with myself?!  I decided to pitch in and help Larry's wife, Caroline (Is that her name?!) set up the Start/Finish shelter as an aid station with her daughter, volunteer Misty and veteran runner, volunteer Donny.  We unpacked the support trailer, set up tables, and prepared a bag lunch for the volunteers at the other aid stations.

From 2010 Zumbro 100

Donny Clark and I fell into a long conversation about running, family, and life in general.  His forays into Alaska were highlighted by his fatherly pride for his sons.  His camp stove wouldn't start after losing its flame, so I offered up Adam's camp stove to finish off his potatoes and sausage breakfast.  (Thanks, Adam!)  A simple recipe, but wow was that delicious.

I had managed to eat up a couple hours of time, but had some more waiting to do. It hadn't warmed up appreciably yet, but it was getting there.  I wanted to wait until Adam finished his first loop before trying to catch a nap in the sun-heated tent that afternoon.  I grabbed my journal and headed back to the shelter.  There I found Misty, trying to catch a cell phone signal.

From 2010 Zumbro 100

It was a futile attempt.  The high-ridged hills weren't letting any wayward signal reach my T-Mobile phone.  She managed to get SMS messages to send and receive, but couldn't establish a signal to make a phone call.  I did say I wanted to be un-plugged for the weekend, and I got my wish.

John Storkamp surprised everyone by blasting in through the chute at 3:10!  Kyle Gulseth came in some 15 or 20 minutes later, followed by Brent Bjerkness, and Bob Triplett about 10 minutes apart.  These guys were haulin!  I have to say I was a bit surprised when Adam came trucking in at about 4 hours!  I knew he said he would be running 15 minute miles or slower for the night run I would join him in, so 12 minutes per mile seemed a bit fast.  I would later learn that this indeed was faster than he planned on going.

From 2010 Zumbro 100

I had Adam's bottles prepped and clothes laid out for him as we had discussed.  The stop went smoothly, and he was back out for loop two!  I stuck around and took photos of the next few runners to enter and leave the station, including a chatty runner from St. Cloud named Brian Woods.  Little did I know we would have much more time to talk later that night.

From 2010 Zumbro 100

I did manage to catch a few winks that afternoon in a much, much warmer tent.  So warm in fact that I couldn't actually sleep in my sleeping bag.  I didn't, however, get a very long nap.  I had too much to think about, apparently.  I had a bit of lunch, and headed back over to the shelter.  I prepped Adam's fuel bottles again, and waited for him to arrive.

He wasn't running 12 minute miles any more, and was much closer to his predicted 15 minute miles, though still running faster.  I don't recall the exact time, but I think it was closer to 4:40 split his second time around.  He looked worn out and told me as much.  "You're going to have to push me out of the shelter the next lap," he said with a grin.

At around 20:00, I changed in to my running gear in preparation for joining Adam in his third loop around the wildlife area.  It would be his 61st mile, my first for the night.  I was getting excited and was having trouble containing myself.

At 21:15 or so that night, a car pulled up next to the shelter, and I watched a cold, tired, and haggard Adam slowly get out of the passenger door.  He looked awful!  As we shuffled him off to his equipment crate to get warmer clothes, he relayed a tale of GI distress.  He had gotten dizzy at around mile 45 and tried to push it a bit further, but it just wasn't going to happen.  For 45 minutes he battled with it, and finally decided to throw in the towel at one of the aid stations.  We bundled him up in warmer clothes and fed him soup.  He suggested that if I really wanted to run, that maybe I could offer to pace for Brian Woods.  Why not?!

One or two more runners filtered in to the shelter after Adam arrived.  Finally, somewhere around twenty after ten, Brian trotted in with a smile on his face, eager to get fuel and get on his way.  Immediately, I posed the question to him, "Want a pacer?"  He was concerned over Adam, but was happy to have company for his fourth loop.  By 22:30 we were on our way on a comfortable pace, not overly fast, a quick jog.

Over the next five and a half hours, we talked almost constantly.  I learned that Brian had not really taken up running until six or so years prior, and that he had been a two-a-pack-a-day smoker.  I find it terribly interesting that there is quite a few runners in their 30's and 40's that never ran in high school or college, and that many of them were either overweight or heavy smokers.  What is it about running that is so therapeutic, so healing that these stories are not uncommon?  What draws people to the road and trails, to lace on a pair of shoes and run?  Brian excelled at his newfound sport, and in short order was entering marathon and greater length races.

By aid station four, Brian no longer had a sweet tooth.  Nothing sounded good to eat, but he managed to have some soup and coffee.  Believe me, coffee at that time of night is definitely welcome!  Up and down the trails we ran, over rolling rocks, hidden roots, and leaf covered sticks.  I don't recall at which point exactly it happened, but I do recall the environment.

Brian had me running lead to keep the pace up.  We were running through an old hardwood grove, thick with leaf litter, when I took my one and only header for the night.  My left foot landed on what I thought was a root, and my right foot was instantly caught by the business end of a hidden branch.  I was launched in to the air and landed flat upon my left shoulder and side.  It was so fast, that I almost rolled completely out of it into a run again.  Instead, I opted to slowly rise from the ground rather than risk another more serious tumble.  Had that happened on one of the steep, rocky descents, I would have been one hurt boy.  As it stood, I was simply shaken up a bit.  Technical trails, indeed.  I later joked that I bounced off the ground so hard that I probably sounded like a handsome male grouse thumping on a log for the ladies.

The rest of the loop was eventless, which is how you want it, especially after a tumble like that.  We arrived five and a half hours after we started.  Brian thanked me for pacing him and said to look for him in seven hours.  He wasn't going to push his last lap too hard.  The guys at the shelter teased me for leaving my runner, then handed me one of Matt's homebrews.  Did I mention that the volunteers at this race were amazing?  No?  Well, they were.  I managed to stay awake for another half hour, then retreated to the tent for some sleep.  It took me no time at all to fall fast asleep.

From 2010 Zumbro 100

Adam and I woke up about the same time, too late to see John Storkamp finish in first, but early enough to watch Brad finish in second.  Bob came in third and Brian, the first time'er from St. Cloud came in fourth!

From 2010 Zumbro 100

His family was there to congratulate him and give him some well deserved pampering after his long journey.

From 2010 Zumbro 100

I have to say that this whole experience was exciting, painful, fun, and wonderful.  Matt had read the fun I was having on my face and predicted that I would probably be running longer distances soon enough.  I have a feeling that he is absolutely right.  I've already got plans to run a 50k or 50 mile race this Fall in the same fashion that I had planned to run Ragnar Relay shortly after, or was it well before, I had completed my first Half Marathon.  Perhaps I'll tackle Zumbro on my own next year...  Who knows.

I do know that I've been uploading photos and typing for the last couple of hours, and I have a long, slow 18 miles to run tomorrow.  Time for bed!

-- Chad