Three Days in the Park 72hr - Thurs, Oct 14th-Sun, Oct 17th, 2021 - Part 2

(AKA The Stahr Wahrs Ultra - Part 1 is here / Part 3 is here)

Like an idiot, I had set a goal for this thing that I'd like to achieve, even knowing that I'd never done anything nearly so ambitious and setting a distance goal was a foolish idea.

Some might say the whole concept of trying to move for three days straight is kind of foolish, but we don't need that kind of negativity in our lives

The goal was 150 laps, or something around 265km. I figured if I could get 100km in during the first 24hrs, then I might be able to manage another 100 miles -ish in the latter 48hrs. By the time I was no longer able to run on Thursday afternoon, though, that goal was already unachievable. Even the lesser goal my mind had presented of 250km was not looking like it would happen, but since the biggest drive I had was simply to keep moving for the whole 72 hours, I tried not to let it weigh on me too much. Anything over ~130km would be a distance PR for me, and a single step over 200km seemed like a decent accomplishment.

Or at least that's what I was telling myself to avoid getting down.

With all that said, I rolled off the cot at first light on Friday and go to work. While the night had been quite mild, I was freezing cold when I got up at 7:06am - I'd laid down at 5:45am in shorts and a 3/4 sleeve shirt, but struggled into a pair of pants (over top of the shorts...and my shoes, which I put on first, which shows you how bright I was feeling at that point) and left the cozy sweater I'd been trying to snooze in on for the first couple of laps.

Not that I'd been successful at sleeping

I had made the fatal error of forgetting to put in my earplugs before laying down, and they were on the far side of the tent...so basically on the moon. Between the sounds of rain showers, wind, the footfalls of Brad & Monica as they came past on loops, and having to get up to have a wee (behind the tent like a savage, because the portajohns might as well have been on Alpha Centauri), I'd only caught maybe a couple of winks. To make things extra special, the buildup of moisture inside the tent and the position of the cot to the left of the door conspired to create a form of torture: the condensation would drip off a seam and right on my head, even as cold drafts blew around my shoulders from under the removeable side panels (which we'd put on when we arrived, because mesh walls are no-one's friend in the rain).

I got a couple of laps in as dawn began to sprawl across the countryside.

Red sky at morning - runners take warning

Soon I found myself starving - full-on belly-growling hunger. Tank was up by 8am-ish: he'd gone for a nap in the car while I laid down, but was awoken by the sounds of another tent going up nearby as Patty prepared to start the 48hr event at 9am. When we had a look at the notebook, the cause of my hunger was pretty evident: I hadn't eaten anything when I got up, which meant my last bit of nutritional intake had been at 4am; that 180cal crispy rice cake, and the cup of coffee I had before my "nap", were now long gone. I scarfed back a banana and a blueberry muffin to silence the growlies, and ditched the sweater. I finished my 51st lap right around the 24hr mark as Patty was starting, having completed only ~90km of the 100km I'd hoped for.

But I was still moving, and that's not nothing.

I held absolutely zero hope for picking up my pace, too: not only was I no longer able to run due to the issue that had cropped up in the back of my right knee the day before. I have since put together that it's basically just a hamstring problem, as the sore spots at what seemed to be the tops of my calf muscles are actually the insertion points of the hamstrings, or where they attach below the knee in order to flex it. In any case, I was only walking, and the walking was going to get tougher due to the weather.

At least it wasn't going to be cold...yet.

I'd also changed shoes and socks after my early-morning lay down, for the first time in the event: I figured the blister on my left foot and hotspot on my right (the former of which was still painful; the latter was behaving itself since I fixed it properly when it appeared) may have been the result of a poor shoe/sock combination, and as I expected more mud I wanted more aggressive lugs. I hoped my New Balance Summit KOMs would treat my feet a little better than the old Leadville 3's had, and maybe even help keep me on them! 

It was dripping on me while I took this

I also believed that loose lacing of my shoes had contributed to movement of my feet inside them, so I laced the fresh pair snugly before setting off. I tried to stay a little more diligent about nutrition through the day, focusing more on real food and less on Endurance Tap gels. I don't think I took any more electrolytes on Friday, either: I drank another cup of coffee a little after 9am, which left my mouth feeling a little fuzzy after all the sugary stuff I'd had in the prior 24hrs. So, I brushed my teeth.

Oral hygiene is important, kids.

Then Tank joined me for a lap, just for giggles. Of course it started dripping again once we got out there, with him just in a cotton longsleeve that would hold the moisture.

But it was a Star Wars shirt as well, so it was too awesome to cover up anyway

I honestly don't remember a whole lot about Friday - I know I was moving quite slowly, even though I was doing my best to keep going. I was still drinking plenty of water (and had figured out that - at my rate of ~500ml per hour - our 18.1L bottle would run out by halfway through, even if Tank hadn't been filling his own water bottle and making coffee from it. Fortunately Clay let us know we could grab a replacement any time we wanted), and still using the portajohns with good (possibly excessive) frequency, but not having been able to sleep more than a couple of minutes during either of my "naps" was taking its toll as the clock crept toward 30 hours. The grey skies and gusty winds didn't help with any sense of joy, either, and I was struggling to keep my posture from disintegrating as I stumped my way up the big hill - I'd find myself remaining bent forward at the waist even once the trail flattened out.

I tried the trick of walking up it with my hands on my hips, but it wasn't easy to climb the increasingly slippery hill like that

I was a bit downcast about my performance so far: I'd previously run 100km twice, once in about 16hrs and (more recently) once in about 15hrs. It took me 27.5hrs to cover the same distance in this event, which was certainly no boost to my confidence. I mean sure, I was still moving, but was probably being outpaced by continental drift. I developed another issue of my own manufacture, too: I had laced my shoes snug after having had my legs up for almost an hour, and as I walked my feet began to swell. I didn't really notice it starting, but soon the tops of my feet began to smart from what's known as a "lace bite". By the time I figured it out, it was so far gone that it would hurt for the rest of the event. 

I'd say the mushrooms were the only ones thriving, but Brad and Monica were still looking super strong too.

I didn't see a single sign of wildlife all day, though I would occasionally hear a squirrel or chipmunk leaping through the canopy or scuttling through the undergrowth. I had one chitter at me from a tree at one point, and the thought occurred to me that I had basically become a woodland creature myself for a few days - not half as cute or fuzzy as them, though, and not even a smidge as graceful and agile! I was just working as best I could to keep myself moving, taking pleasure in whatever little things I could find that made me smile.

Like a bit of blue sky appearing near noon

I made a butter tart and an oatmeal raisin cookie disappear as I ambled along, and had offered Tank that I would make sandwiches for us around lunchtime. At 1pm I decided I wanted to sit down for a bit, and was going to make sammiches happen, but then we realised there was still some of the amazing roast chicken that Scher had brought the night before. I sat and scarfed back a chunk, knowing that we hadn't been able to fit it into the cooler, so it had been unrefrigerated overnight. I took a digestive enzyme to help out in case I was making a terrible decision, and finally took some of the other supplements I'd brought along as well: a ginger capsule, a collagen/lysine/vitamin C tablet, some l-glutamine, branch-chain amino acids, and a turmeric capsule. Would any of it help? Who knows! Couldn't hurt, though. Oh, and I ate a bunch of fuzzy peaches as well, because I am basically a kindergartener who got old rather than growing up.

Somewhere in the swirling thoughts in my head as I walked, I came up with a plan to combat the problems I'd had napping that morning: as I ate my highly suspect chicken-and-candy lunch, I talked it over with Tank, and he agreed to pull the tent apart a bit so we could move the cot to the back wall. It would keep me away from the seam that was dripping condensation, and meant I'd be against a solid wall (well, actually a second door, but we kept that one zipped completely shut) that should offer better protection against drafts. 

It also let us arrange totes full of gear a bit better for ease of access

The wind gusts got more aggressive in the meadow on top of the hill, and the temperature dropped 5c in 20mins. I put on a warmer shirt and did a couple of laps like that, hoping some hippie vibes would perk me up.

I even picked some of the wildflowers in the meadow and stuck them behind my ear - not that it did much to improve the odours

I was still struggling, though - progress was happening at more of a stagger than a walk as fatigue weighed heavy on me. I had a stroopwafel and did slurp back one more Endurance Tap gel past lunch, washing the latter down with another cup of coffee and taking a blast of vitamin B12 spray around 3:30pm. Within 20mins I had perked up quite a bit, and was marching away with more determination than I'd shown for most of the day. I made a mental note of the coffee/B12 combo as a turbo boost, but knew that I couldn't go to that well too often: I had an issue many years ago, somehow becoming allergic to caffeine for a year, and having had to re-introduce it very slowly and carefully. It was more than 20 years ago now, but I still feel awful if I have more than a couple of cups of coffee in a day, so I'd have to ration my intake.

Scher arrived again around 4:30pm, this time having brought ginger curried chicken drumsticks (plus chana masala and naan for Tank). I got 20 laps (~35km) in from the time I got up and out until I sat down again around 5pm to eat two of those delicious drumsticks, make and eat a sunbutter & strawberry jam sandwich, and try to get another nap in. 

Making the noms
(Photo by Scher)

Before I did so, I wanted to make sure I was ready to go for what promised to be a rain-filled night, so I wanted to do a full change of clothes. Bless Scher's heart: despite this only being about the 4th time we'd ever met face-to-face, she didn't even bat an eye when I started pulling my kit off...all of my kit. Her only comment was to offer to help, either with pulling clothes off - and let me tell you that I'd been in the same pair of compression shorts for about 35 hours by that point, so this was no errand for the faint-hearted - or by finding the stuff I wanted to put on in the cavernous 104L tote full of clothing-stuffed packing cubes. Endurance sports friends are the best friends! By the time I swung my legs up onto the pile of pillows at 5:45pm, I was wearing a pair of full compression tights, a dry wool sports bra, a longsleeve wool shirt, and had a rain jacket, fleece skirt, and foam-front trucker hat ready to go.

 

This started not long after I popped into the tent - my timing was pretty good throughout a lot of the 72hrs!

I left my socks alone, as the leukotape on the hotspots on the balls of my feet were rather stuck to them, despite me having slathered the patches with Trail Toes to keep that very thing from happening. The hotspot-come-blister on my left foot had worked its way up between my big toe and 2nd toe - something I've had happen before, at one or another of the 100k's I've done - and since I couldn't really do anything about it, I decided to just ignore it.

I had to get up 45mins into my nap because I was gripped by an undeniable urge to pee, which I accomplished behind the tent again before scuttling back inside and laying down again. I slept a bit, then turned on my side with my legs still on the pillows, and had just dozed off again when Tank came in the tent to wake me up at 7:20pm. I was glad I had the fresh shoes I wanted and all my other gear close at hand, as I needed to get moving pretty quickly: I'd reached out to my friend Rich a few weeks prior to see if he might be able to pace me for awhile, and he'd generously offered to come out from 7:30pm Friday until 7:30am Saturday, despite just having run 100km the weekend beforehand for his annual Grand River Hospital Cancer Centre fundraiser!

I had one other ace in the hole to get me through my second night, too: I was busting out the poles.

Tank hates it when I call them "wimp sticks"
(Photo by Scher)

That meant I needed to use a vest and a soft bottle as well, because I can't carry my handheld and use  trekking poles at same time. I started out with an Osprey bottle with a long straw attachment to it (which you can just barely see in the pic above), but it was too fussy to get back in vest, so after I emptied it I went with one of the (narrower) bottles that came with the vest. They were harder to drink from, due to having to pull them up to my face and the fact the silicone of the bite valves is much stiffer than any other similar bottles I've used. I also found it more difficult to gauge the water level in them;  I'd think it was empty and I was drinking well, then I'd give my boob a feel and find lots left. It seems like the narrowness of the bottles made them collapse easily when trying to suck the water out through the top, sort of locking the water in the bottom of them. Not ideal, but I made it work by sort of squeezing the water up toward the valve when I wanted a drink.

Now if I could just figure out how to make my legs work..
(L-R: Tank, my dumb arse, and Rich - photo by Scher)

I was getting less inclined to drink anyway, as we'd run out of the Cambridge tapwater with which Tank had filled our 18.1L bottle before we left home - we were onto one of the bottles Clay had generously provided for us, and I could taste the difference in the water. I'm sure it was fine, but I drink a lot of water at home, and it's a matter of what you're accustomed to. I'm sure that seems like such a small, fussy detail - who's the damn princess who's going to complain about the taste of the water in an ultra? - but it was just one more tiny chip away at my morale.

As if I needed another challenge, my right knee started acting up as soon as Rich and I set off, but in a brand new and different way. I'm not sure if turning onto my right side with my feet still up on the pillows was the straw that broke the camel's back (or the idiot's knee?), or if it was just accumulated wear and tear, but the outside of my kneecap was now really painful whenever I'd walk downhill.

..and let me tell you there was a lot of downhill walking out there.

Those downhills may actually have been a contributing factor to the knee issue: in most other races (or long days on my feet) I can still run the downhills, which uses a different muscle engagement and foot plant than walking down them. I had spent one of my walk/run training sessions in the week before the race intentionally walking steep downhills to try to give my legs a taste of what they'd be in for, but oddly enough it seems one single day was not quite sufficient to condition them. How very strange!

In what I now recognized as a pattern, the course had gotten muddier while I snoozed, so I was definitely grateful for the assistance of the poles even if it made drinking more challenging - I'd probably still be in a sobbing, crumpled heap at the bottom of the big stinkin' hill now had I not had them. The poles helped significantly on the uphills, and I suppose they took some of the pressure off going downhill, but after a few hours I could definitely feel the fatigue in my shoulders and back as I used them to almost hoist myself bodily up the big stinkin' hill. Even on the flats and gentler inclines, I seemed to have some trouble striking a balance between stabbing them into the ground (which used unnecessary energy and was a bit jarring) and not properly getting them set. It's almost like fine motor skills - like those used to plant a pole just so - suffer a bit after more than 30 hours of trying to move. Funny, that.

It wasn't all bad, though. I did have some hotspots start to come up on my thumbs from the poles, but that was easily resolved by putting on a pair of dollar store stretchy gloves (with skeleton hand designs, of course). The rain and wind were awful, but having company was delightful - I find Rich very easy to talk to, and we chatted pretty consistently. I was much more lucid than I'd expected to be during my second consecutive night on the trail, though I'm told I was a bit rambly. Admittedly it was Scher who said it, and she's not used to hanging around me and my endlessly tangential and parenthetical way of yapping my bloody head off, so we'll take that with a grain of salt. Oh, and that horrible blister on my left foot seemed to have burst while I snoozed, which sounds like a bad thing but actually meant that it was no longer squishing with every step and wasn't even really painful anymore.

Let's get your mind off the idea of a burst blister with something distinctly more fun: some signs turned up along the course as darkness fell, put out by one of the volunteers. 

This was on the downhill out of the forest just before the big stinkin' hill
(The beaver with the Canadian flag and the "Three Days in the Park" banner is the official race logo)

While it was great to have company through the dark and painful night, the easy conversation with Rich meant that I'd forget to drink as often as I should. All credit to him, though - he was excellent about reminding me, and also helped by grabbing things out of the tent when I needed nutrition, asking about and making sure I dealt with hotspots on my feet right away (one came up on the inside of the ball of my right foot, and got taped up), and checking my posture as he walked along behind me. It was fantastic to have an experienced hundred mile runner to think of all the things my brain wasn't capable of suggesting to me! I did manage to figure out that my headlamp batteries needed replacing, though; I swapped to a different light (that I'd brought for just such an occasion) for a lap while Tank switched them out, and the improvement in brightness was astonishing!

Speaking of posture: on one hand it was easier to keep myself upright while using the poles, as their length requires me to walk fairly tall, but on the other hand my head would droop forward as I got sort of sucked in by the pool of light in front of me from my headlamp and waist light, while the weight of the headlamp on my hat brim dragged my head down as well. I needed to keep stretching my neck and shoulders as they were getting very sore. I even had this weird thing going on for awhile where my head tilted to the right, and a nasty bulge of knotted muscle in the left side where my neck met my shoulder. I tried to massage it out a bit, but that's understandably a bit difficult while using trekking poles - at least if you're not interested in stabbing anyone (or yourself).

No way I was running, but I adore the storm trooper-helmeted version of the race logo!
This appeared just past the halfway point of the loop

We were coming into base camp from a lap as a really nasty squall of rain hit, and I suggested - noting the gusting wind - that it might blow over quite quickly, so maybe we should go hide in the aid station tent for 5 minutes and let it do so? Not only would we be more comfortable while the burst lasted, we'd avoid getting soaked to the skin, which could make a big difference for the remainder of the night as well. We ducked inside as it bucketed down, and I grabbed a seat by a propane heater. It felt absolutely lovely to get the weight off my feet for a bit: I'd changed into an older pair of Salomon Speedcross (a gift from a dear friend who no longer needed them), knowing they had really aggressive soles that would be a great help in what was predicted to be the rainiest - and therefore muddiest - night of the event. However, it felt like they had no arch support at all, and my feet were suffering for it. My left foot in particular was very sore through the arch, and it wasn't until days later that I finally remembered that shoes that are too narrow will make my arches hurt in the same way; I had a pair of skates that put me in agony as I tried to break them in enough, and eventually had to give up on because I couldn't wear them without almost the exact same pain I felt. The Speedcross had always been just on the edge of being too narrow, and they felt ok when I put them on, but again that was after having my feet elevated and I'm sure the swelling from so many hours of walking was likely the culprit. At the time, though, it never even occurred to me try try loosening the laces. I'm bright like that. In any case, almost exactly 5mins after we popped into the aid station tent, the rain tailed off again, so I got up and got moving.

My absolute favourite of the signs that turned up Friday night - just after you turned into the woods from the downhill along the cornfield, this made me giggle every single time I saw it.

From there on out, I'd end up sitting down for a few minutes to get the weight off my poor, maligned feet after every 4th or 5th lap. Was that a bit lazy? Perhaps, but had you been in the same place - only a bit more than halfway through the event, repeatedly showered with rain and buffeted by the wind that whipped in your face as you turned the corner to cross the start/finish and head across the meadow, with horribly painful appendages all complaining about poor treatment - you might have been enticed into taking a load off for a moment here and there, too.

..and sitting the heck down out of the weather.

Things got really distressing for a bit: I'd popped into the portajohn not long after the deluge from which we hid in the aid station tent, and when I got up I noticed some red liquid on the seat. I wiped it with some toilet paper, and yep - that sure looked like blood. I couldn't feel anything painful on my butt, though, so I mentioned it to Rich as we set off down the hill along the cornfield, and decided to monitor the situation. In the cooler temperatures of the night I had dropped from drinking a 450ml bottle every 2 laps to every 3 laps, so I wasn't peeing quite as often, but nonetheless I was back in the portajohn a few laps later. This time I made sure to wipe down the seat before I sat down for a wee, and when I got up there was blood on it again: yikes, it was definitely me. I wiped the spot where the back of my right leg meets my butt, and the paper came away bloody, but I still couldn't feel anything painful or that might be bleeding. Now I was just freakin' puzzled, and on my next lap I told Tank that I needed him to have a look at my arse the next time I stopped for awhile because I was suddenly randomly bleeding. Talk about dropping a bomb on the poor guy! 

What's stranger still is that the next time I used the portajohn - making sure that the seat was dry before I did so - there was nothing at all. No blood on the seat, none on my butt, and still no evidence of where it had come from. I speculated that maybe I had a mosquito bite or something that I'd scratched (prior to the event) until it scabbed, and the scab was pulled off when I pulled down my compression tights to have a wee, then it tried to scab again and the tights got stuck to it and pulled it off again. Then maybe - as it had dried out a little by the 3rd portajohn stop - it had finally just sealed itself without sticking to the tights? I guess I'll never know for sure, but self-resolving problems are the best kind of problems.

By 3am I was struggling quite a bit, though I remained pretty chipper: I just wasn't moving very well at all. I decided now was as good a time as any to try the secret sauce to get me through the last couple of hours I wanted to get in, as I'd decided before Rich arrived that I'd likely go down for another nap around 5am to sleep away the last of the darkness and let him get home a bit sooner. I still had some laps to make before then, though, so I got Tank to make me a cup of coffee (fortunately by this point there was almost always some brewed in our big thermos, so I could have some at a moment's notice) and had another spray of B12 while I sat down for a few minutes. 

Fortunately, it worked! Within 20mins Rich was commenting on how much stronger I was looking as I went from a pole-assisted stagger to a proper hike, in spite of the increasing mud due to the intermittent rain showers. We got a few more laps in, finishing our 21st together (~37km) almost precisely at 5am, just as another nasty shower was blowing in. I thanked Rich profusely for his company and help through the night - I am deeply grateful to him for selflessly offering to pace me through fairly miserable conditions, and at a time when I really needed him - and ducked into the tent with Tank to get some food and a nap.

This bowl of instant noodle soup was the first hot thing I'd eaten in almost 48hrs, and went wonderfully with another couple of those magnificent ginger curried chicken drumsticks

Tank also checked my bum with his headlamp as I took a wee behind the tent in the rain, but he couldn't see a single thing that could have caused the bleeding. I'll always be a little puzzled by that incident.. 

In any case, I'd gone through 19 bottles of water and about 3,700cal of food between 7am Friday and 5am Saturday, and covered 41 laps of the course - approximately 72.5km, which put my total so far at 89 laps, or about 157km in 44hrs. I changed out of the damp shirt and bra I was wearing and shucked off my fleece skirt, delighting in removing my vise-like shoes but leaving my socks and compression tights on. My left foot felt like it had been crushed - even now, a couple of weeks later, I can feel that all the little bones where my toes meet my foot took some damage as they were smushed together by the too-narrow shoes. Fortunately the throbbing in my feet eased a bit as I swung them up onto the pile of pillows, popped in my earplugs, got my Garmin and waist light on charge again (for the last time), and closed my eyes at 6:14am in the warmth and relative comfort of our tent. Moving the cot to the back wall eliminated the drips of condensation on my head, and there were definitely fewer drafts; I'm so grateful that we were able to come up with a solution, as it had only gotten colder and wetter out, but I was feeling quite snug in my berth. I could have stayed there for hours, but at 7:43am I banged awake once more and got myself ready to head out again..

No use sitting here like an idiot - there are laps to walk!

I'll tell you all about how that went when the saga continues next week! Stay tuned for Part 3..

(Continue to Part 3)

Three Days in the Park 72hr - Thurs, Oct 14th-Sun, Oct 17th, 2021 - Part 1

(AKA The Stahr Wahrs Ultra)

What kind of idiot decides to go run for three days?

How bad could it be?

There was absolutely nothing encouraging to me going into this one, either - with the stress and poor sleep I'd experienced for a week beforehand, some chronic injuries (left hip and right ankle) that have been problematic for years, and the recently-torn hamstring, I'd probably have been correct to hesitate starting even a "normal" ultra, like a 6-hour or 50k. It was just too poetic, though: having run my first ultra - the Horror Hill 6-hour - in October of 2010, this was now my 12th October of ultras, and I was attempting something exactly twelve times as long.

..and it looked like the weather would be 12 times as awful.

In an effort to hold myself together, I went through the best part of a roll of kinesiology tape in the dark of early morning - I'd worked out a way to tape up my hip and hamstring that had certainly helped a couple of weeks beforehand at Rugged Raccoon.

The tape was on the inside of the shorts, but I'm not posting a photo of my butt.

And of course the ubiquitous sock-made-out-of-tape on both feet

We'd see how "Extreme" the hold would be through 3 days of sweat and rain

So, with a laundry list of things that could go horribly wrong, a car full to the roof with gear, and a small amount of twitching going on in my left eye, we rolled up north of Elmira - as a beautiful, sunny Thursday morning dawned - to make ourselves at home for awhile. We lucked out with the rain pushing back to the evening; originally they'd said it would start to rain in the early morning, but we got to set up under dry skies. The dew, however, had fallen really heavily overnight and the grass was soaked - after getting the Chowhouse up, all the furniture set up inside it (including giving my upper thigh a really good pinch while unfolding the cot), and stowing gear as best we could, my feet were on the soggy side, too.

Not exactly a 5-star hotel, but it was everything I needed!

I'd heard there were only 3 people signed up for the 72 hour event - there were 48hr, 24hr, and 12hr events that would join in later - and only 2 of us would be starting at the original time of 9am on Thursday. It seems Monica had some pressing HR matters to attend to at the office, so she wouldn't be able to come out until late in the day. The whole thing was termed a "fun run" rather than a race, with manual lap counting by volunteers, so this didn't really pose any problems for anyone: the ultra crowd is remarkably laid back, and we're all pretty used to dealing with and compensating for extraordinary circumstances.

So, it was just Brad from Indiana and I to kick things off.

He's a remarkable runner, and instantly likeable

Clay - the organizer of this whole mad venture - took us through the map of the 1.092mi course, and mentioned that there was one extra little hill as you come back onto to the main trail from the forest loop, in addition to the "one hill - short and steep" that had been included in the event description. 

He left the other couple of hills as a bonus surprise for us

I actually ended up doing a "warm up run" to the portajohns at the far end of the meadow from race headquarters - I had taped my ankles, my hip, and my hamstring, and everything actually felt pretty good movement-wise. Once I returned, we had a couple of moments to sort out last-minute details (including slap on some extra lubrication here and there, to the point that by rights I ought to have slipped right off the face of the earth; I was slippery), and then - at the stroke of 9am - we were off. 

I ran for about a half-second in the wrong direction - sort of hoping to get a kiss from Tank - but was told I was going the wrong way, and figured I might just be by our tent once or twice and could get a smooch later. I generally get one before the start of every race, but this was just a fun run, right?

Map of the course - like a Picasso figure-8 with 2-way traffic on the connecting trail between the two loops
(Green line indicates the start/finish)

Let's go for a little tour, shall we? Setting off from base camp you're heading straight for the scenic portajohns.

A runner's best friend, though I'm not sure we actually used more than the one..

Left turn just before the conveniences, and past the big willow trees

..which got a little handsy when things got wet and windy.

Enjoy a nice, long downhill stretch alongside a cornfield

Take the middle track - the grass is softer than the gravel

Left turn at the bottom of the hill, into the trees and singletrack

This looks more like a trail race!

Count your blessings that there ARE portajohns, so you don't have to use the on-course conveniences to your right..

I mean, any port in a storm, but I'd rather not..

Continue past the tire sticking out of the trail, through the crispy fallen leaves

These made quite a racket until they all got soggy and trampled

Come to the T-intersection and turn right onto the 2-way traffic trail

You can just see the arrow sign poking out of the undergrowth

Bonus hill #1: up through the deep drifts of leaves into the forest proper

Gary - one of the amazing volunteers whose camp setup and course markings were an invaluable asset to us - said he didn't realise it was a hill until his 3rd lap

Flatter, flowy trail takes you south 

Through some developing fall colours

The trees drop away to the left to reveal a farm field beyond a swath of thorny bushes

You can catch a glimpse at far left of how intensely green the field was

Up another bit of a rise, then down Stump Alley - not yet pictured - to a left turn into the forest loop.

Narrower singletrack downhill to start

Begin to climb another bonus hill into a pine forest.

You're now about halfway through the course

Curve past the shelter built in the woods

Of course I ended up calling this section Upper Kelly Camp

Flow through the tall, straight pines over soft ground

Nice and flat and soft on the feet

Turn right at the end, then go ever so slightly downhill past the 3 posts

Lovely and runnable

Watch for the next right turn to come up quickly, taking you downhill for the first bit, back toward the 2-way traffic main trail

A bit narrow, but lovely

Wind through the pines and mushrooms while the land undulates a bit

It's really beautiful in there

Mind the mossy little stump in the middle of the trail

It's a toe catcher

Then up the short but quite steep hill to the main, 2-way traffic trail

This stayed surprisingly solid even in the worst of the rain

Step over the fallen trees - first the diagonal one, then the double horizontal ones - and turn right again to head north

Before the passage of feet took great chunks out of the sandy earth around them

Enjoy the downhill as you come back to the beginning of the woods loop

Mind the root sticking out of the dirt on the right, and the rock on the left

Back up stump alley - not that you can really see them yet, as this was very early on Thursday.

Lurking, ready to grab your foot when you least expect it..

Straight on past the green field again, with a sharp downhill as you come out of the woods

There wasn't a lot of room for 2-way traffic through here, but we made it work.

Pass the T-intersection and leave the 2-way traffic behind as you begin the climb up the main hill.

From the base

Looser and rutted to the left - grassy to the right.
The "good" line evolved as the days went on

You're thinking "hey, I'm almost to the top"

Unfortunately, you'd be wrong - the uphill continues (though much less aggressively) for another 50 metres or so

Up the grassy singletrack

It eventually flattens out when the singletrack meets the dirt doubletrack in the meadow

Carry on past the young pine trees

It eventually slopes very gently downhill again toward base camp

Seiling Road is just beyond the trees behind the tents

Enjoy the soft ground underfoot as you roll on through, turning left just after our tent (to the right of the trail) to pass the aid station tent (white tarp roof) and do it all again!

One down - some ridiculous number to go.

Because I am an IPOS and was far more interested in still being alive and moving for the whole event, I took things really easy - I'd run the long downhill by the cornfield, some of the flatter and gentle downhill bits in the woods, and the downslope into and through base camp. Starting off, I ran a whole 1 minute and 11 seconds before dropping to a walk, then picked it back up again along the cornfield.

Proof I ran a little bit, anyway

I think it was maybe my 3rd lap, though, that I invited Tank out to join me and walked the whole thing with him. 

No reason to rush

I also took the opportunity to take a bunch of photos along the way, including all the course pics above. There were some other points of interest, too.

Like adorable mushrooms
We should hang out more - he seems like a fungi!

There may also have been some minor shenanigans

Partly because I didn't know how long I'd be capable of crouching like this..

Tank unfortunately tripped over a couple of the stumps, once hard enough that his sunglasses came flying off his head - it sounded really painful, too. The truly unfortunate part was that on my next lap, Gary came out with a couple of cans of paint, and sprayed almost every one of the toe-catcher roots and stumps hi-viz orange.

Also clearing some of the drifted leaves while he was at it

Stump alley got a whole lot easier to navigate!

There were a couple of small hazards that didn't get a hi-viz coating, so I improvised some warnings.

I had seen this little blighter - right at the turn into the woods loop - try to take out both Brad and Tank

These maple leaves showed the location of a root at the final right-hand turn of the woods loop, as you begin to head toward the steep hill up to the main trail

The first few hours weren't particularly eventful, though hilariously I managed to blow the final turn in the woods loop on my THIRD LAP while trying to send my awesome friend Scher a message with information for getting there, as she'd be coming out to help crew in the evenings in hopes of getting Tank some time to nap. 

From an instagram conversation after it was all over

Fortunately I was already sufficiently familiar with the course to realise I hadn't been that way before, and didn't see any flags, so I was able to backtrack to the missed turn fairly quickly - I think I added a total of about 50-60 metres to that lap.

Not gonna tell you that's the only dumb thing I did, because we both know better.

Honestly those first few hours - with just Brad and I on the course, and Clay and Tank at base camp - were incredibly idyllic. It was just me and a water bottle bopping around in the woods, occasionally seeing a friendly face. The temperature was perfect; it was overcast, but just enough so you wouldn't get sunburned; I had all the time in the world, so there was no rush, nothing to stress about. No pack, no poles, not even any pockets - no bullshit, just pure trail running (well, ok - with a lot of walking), spiced with the sizzle that marks the beginning of any great adventure.

Happy as a clam

The day gradually got fairly hot as the clock ticked toward afternoon, and I sweated a lot, but I kept up with fluids and calories - I was going through a 500ml hand bottle about every 55mins (call it every 3 laps), and munching my way through a couple of hundred calories per hour. The menu for the opening hours was pretty simple: my homemade sea salt maple crisp rice squares, Endurance Tap gels, a Larabar, a stroopwafel or two, a bunch of fuzzy peaches, and an oatmeal raisin cookie here and there. The only real reason to run long - of course - being that you get to eat cookies while you're at it.

How the heck do I remember what I ate and how much I was drinking? For once, I wasn't leaving this up to memory: I kept a notebook in our tent, with space to record:

• Laps completed (though no times - any estimate of splits will be a guess)
• Water intake (based on what time I took a bottle)
• Pee breaks (because if you're drinking but not peeing, something is wrong)
• Electrolyte intake (I finally remembered about 2hrs in to start taking S!caps)
• Naps taken (because those would definitely be a thing)
• Other random notes about anything I thought was important

Tank writing down all the stuff I was shoving in my gob

I figured this way, no matter how stupid I got as the days wore on, I'd be able to tell that I hadn't remembered to eat anything for a couple of hours, or hadn't been drinking enough water, or anything else that I might need reminding about from my crew.

So I could just blithely meander around in circles

So you might also be wondering, given my penchant for running in skirts - what's with the shorts? Well, let me tell you that I'm pretty dang pleased that they worked out, because I'd only owned them for 2 days and worn them around my house for 10mins before slipping them on in the pre-dawn hours before the race (wait - "fun run"). My rationale for such a blatant violation of the "nothing new on race day" rule-of-thumb was this: they're compression shorts, with a nice long inseam. I expected to do a lot of walking - as a matter of fact, I was astonished I was still running past the 4-hour mark. When I walked from Brantford to Cambridge on the rail trail the day after I tore my hamstring, I developed a nasty little spot in my left quads that hurt a lot with each step with that leg, but felt ok if I put even the slightest pressure on it while walking. The shorts would hopefully keep the jiggling and bouncing in check enough to prevent the sore spot from developing, or (if not) at least keep some pressure on it so it wouldn't be painful. 

I'd also panic-bought a pair of compression tights because a) I wasn't sure the shorts would arrive in time, and b) I figured something a bit warmer - but still compressive - might come in handy as the weather got colder throughout the event.

Brad took a rather simpler approach to clothing, but I am nothing if not a dork

I mentioned earlier that my feet got wet while I was putting up the tent and generally prepping for the start. What I didn't mention is that my shoes loosened up a bit when they got wet, and I completely failed to stop and lace them down snugger, just sort of expecting my feet would swell. Unfortunately, the very steep hills meant there was a lot of force making my feet slide around inside my shoes as I climbed and descended, and trying to grip my shoe with my toes led to the start of a hotspot just where my left big and second toes meet the ball of my foot. If you've ever read any of my prior race reports, you'll know that I have eschewed the ultra dictum to take care of foot issues immediately, but since those other events typically ended on the same day they started (or by the next afternoon at most), this was rather a different ball of string. 

Into the tent around 4hrs in, I sat down and took my shoe off, and slathered up that hotspot with a bunch of Trail Toes. Of course the tape on the sole of my foot had come loose already: between the wet from the dew and the sweat I'd generated, it hadn't stood a chance, but I left it be so I wouldn't disturb the still-adhered portions. I also noticed that the lube I'd put between my toes had accumulated a bit of dust and sand from the trail, and hoped it wouldn't form a grinding paste that would destroy my skin. I also hoped the additional lubrication would resolve the hot spot, as I sure had a long way to go yet.

I'd brought a lot of pairs of shoes, socks, gaiters, and even calf panties, but only one set of feet to get me through.

I pressed on, but was already getting discouragingly tired, and the hotspot was still a bit on the vocal side. Nonetheless, running!

Heading out for another lap

I'd really notice the hotspot as I ascended the big stinkin' hill, with my toes trying their best to dig into the earth to gain purchase. I'm not going to lie - I was actually terrified of what this hill would be like after the rain began, as it felt like it would be impossible to climb if it were slicked with mud. 

Let me tell you that it wasn't particularly easy even when dry

That hill also caused another issue to crop up that would end up being a defining factor for the whole event. I noticed that my right hamstrings felt like they were trying to cramp, around 5 hours in - just above my knee, beyond the generous length of the compression shorts (of course, right?). I didn't know what was causing it, so blundered on, eating and drinking, and popping another S!cap or two to see if electrolytes would help.

Remember how I said the field was just absurdly green?
It was also a bit buggy along that stretch in the afternoon warmth, as evidenced by the blur of a bug against the sky there.

No dice - I managed to keep the muscles from cramping, but they remained sore. As the day wore on, the tops of my calf muscles got in on the game as well, so everything around the back of my right knee was pulsing with pain.

Oh, as well as that hotspot behind my left toes getting worse

The pain was worst when I was climbing steep hills, and I finally figured out a way to spare myself: I could ascend pain-free if I made sure I kept my knee bent while climbing, with all my weight on my toes and my calf engaged. I think the problem originated from the fact I have terrible dorsiflexion in my right ankle - because it won't bend up toward my shin very much, I think my knee was hyperextending in an effort to straighten my leg, straining the bottoms of my hamstrings and putting a lot of pressure on the tendons at the top of my calf muscles.

It took me several hours to work this out, but what did I have but time?

So, a solution...but one that put a lot of pressure on that hotspot that had definitely become a blister behind my left toes. The other problem was that running downhill - the only running I could manage by the 5.5-hour mark - which made the blister squish painfully AND aggravated my hamstring and calf, so just like that I was down to a walk. Running was over. To be perfectly honest, I'd actually run a lot more than I'd expected, though I believe the total distance I covered while running was probably only about 5 or 6 kilometers out of about 30 I'd banked by that point.

Now it was truly just a walk in the park

Still, there was plenty to be happy about - laps were happening, and the trail felt strangely perfect to me. Enough variety and obstacles to keep it from ever getting boring, and long enough that each loop took a decent bite out of the time. Sure, I was slow as hell, but speed was never the object: simple endurance was, and that would reward a gentle, measured approach from the start. Never having even completed 24hrs or a 100 miler before, my keynote going into this was "No hurry"; time being the one thing I had in abundance. Around 7 hours in, the sun even came out to cheer me further.

It was the first time it had emerged from the clouds since the start

I saw an unbelievable range of lighting conditions on this downhill

The light brought out the fall colours in the forest beautifully

I also got some not-so-bueno news: my phone (which I didn't carry the whole time, but more than I'd expected to) buzzed in my hand as I reveled in the sunshine. What it told me indicated I'd better enjoy it while it lasted..

..and perhaps start building an ark.

But I put all of that out of my mind as much as possible, as I was expecting company! My coworker Divya was going away for the weekend, but wanted to join me for a lap or two, so she was coming out straight from work on Thursday afternoon. After messaging with her a bit I expected her around 5:30pm, and I didn't want to leave her waiting at the start/finish too long, so I actually ran a little bit around the 8.5hr mark so I wouldn't be quite so long away from base camp. My blister and the back of my knee didn't like it, but THEY'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME, and after the 2nd lap with bits of running I hooked up with Div and we set out to walk the loop. As we passed the aid station and lap counting tents, I saw a white SUV pull in with my friend Scheherazade at the wheel. I let her get checked in (all runners, pacers, crew, and visitors had to sign a waiver and provide proof of vaccination) while Divya and I went out and chatted, and when we came back through Scher joined us to get a look at the trail.

Tank, Scher, Div, and my goofy self
I'm so grateful to have such wonderful people to support me!

We also saw Monica pull in as we walked along toward the portajohns: the final 72hr runner was now on site, and I couldn't help but think it would add an extra layer to the challenge for her starting so late in the day. The light was starting to wane as Divya headed home after her 2nd lap - just as I hit the 50k mark, which at ~9h30m was by far my slowest ever - so I grabbed a headlamp and my waist light but didn't turn them on yet. My vision is pretty good in low light, and I wanted to wait as long as I could before flipping over to lighting.

The closest we got to a sunset Thursday evening

I talked about putting on something a bit warmer as dusk approached, but it was only on the long, windy downhill that I really felt any chill in the air, and the big hill would make me work hard enough to generate some serious body heat on every lap even though I was just walking. One really cool thing I finally got to see was the directional arrows on the course light up as darkness fell! No, not on a timer or light sensor: Gary came out to hook up each of the battery packs individually, all routed into plastic zipper baggies in an effort to protect them against the incoming weather. 

This one - at the foot of the big hill - definitely meant "straight up"

He had to go turn them all off again in the morning, too - he'd tested the battery run time and found they were good for about 36hrs, which meant that they ought to give just enough light for all 3 nights. The sun set around 6:40pm and didn't rise again until 7:35am, meaning there was technically more than 12hrs of "darkness" each day, but twilight to twilight was almost exactly twelve hours each day.

These values are for Kitchener rather than north of Elmira, but close enough

It was neat to spot a couple of bunnies on the long downhill by the cornfield around dusk: the only wildlife I'd seen all day were a couple of garter snakes in the woods, one of which was just a little baby. Things that were less cool: I'd started to develop a hotspot on my right foot in the same place as the left (where my toes meet the ball of my foot), the one on my left foot was getting more painful by the hour, and the stabilizer muscles around my groin were getting sore from 10+ hours of uneven ground. Scher had brought out a whole load of roast chicken for Tank and I (that girl is an AMAZING chef!), and the temptation was strong to just plant my butt and scarf back a bunch of it, but with rain predicted to start by 8pm or so I figured I'd press on until things started to get wet. I did, however, let Tank and Scher know I'd seen a skunk in the meadow by one of the small pine trees on the path to base camp - close enough to our tent that I wanted it supervised at all times, so no furry creatures went rummaging through my baked goods!

Let's go for a night lap, shall we?

Passing the willow trees, heading down the long hill

Turning into the trees below the meadow - I saw a skunk off to the left down here, too 

Right turn onto the two-way traffic main trail

Two-way traffic indeed! Brad coming the other way.
While I used a headlamp and waist light, he just carried a flashlight

It turned out Gary had sprayed all the roots and stumps twice: once with hi-viz orange, and again with a clear retroreflective paint that shone brightly when light hit it in the darkness

As I approached the left turn into the forest loop I could see a white glow in the woods that was a bit eerie: it didn't look like another runner (I mean, with Monica now on course and moving strong, there were still only 2 others and I had a solid idea what they looked like), but rather some kind of installation. What in the world could be out there?

It turns out that Gary - with the help of Brad, who carried the sign out because he had a GPS to measure the distance and left it in the correct spot for Gary to set up - had added a little nighttime treat at the halfway mark of the course.

The 1/2 done in the same electrowire as the outlines of the arrows, and little LED puck lights to form a sort of runway...or in my case, walkway.

Remember the 3 posts on the far end of the forest loop? They had retroreflective on them, too

You can see where our feet were starting to dig out the sandy earth below the first fallen tree on the climb back out to the main trail

Uphill through stump alley at night

I have sometimes found that hills are easier in the dark because you can't see them.
This was definitely NOT the case with the big stinkin' hill

The one thing I can say for that hill is that climbing it meant I was nearly back to the comforts and conveniences of base camp, which Gary and Tank had got lit up beautifully with strings of Christmas lights.

Not to mention the comforting, warming glow of the Coleman lantern in our own tent

My neck and shoulders were getting quite sore by this point: I'd keep raising my arms and doing some stretches while I walked after the first few hours, but my whole body was definitely getting in on the complaining game. I was tired and beat up, but overall still in pretty good spirits for the first night.

And of course still taking dorky selfies.
I'm absolutely gutted I didn't get one with Scher!

A light rain began to fall around 8:30pm, just as I was coming in from a lap, but I decided to push for one more - hoping, of course, that it wouldn't open up and drench me. The evening had stayed quite mild so far; you can see above that I was still in just my sleeveless shirt and shorts!

Such a party atmosphere at base camp!

By the time I'd finished that lap (I believe my 35th - just shy of 62km), though, the rain had definitely settled in, and I really needed to work on my feet, so I entered the warm embrace of our tent to get some stuff done.

It might be a little chaotic, but it was home

If you're thinking it looks like there's an awful lot going on in there, you're absolutely right. I tried to plan out the layout in advance, but we'd never had all the stuff inside it before race (fun run) day.

I got it pretty close

By the way: the "clothing bin" above is a 104L plastic tote, and the "food bin" is another 72L tote of non-perishables. I forgot to include the cooler in this sketch, but it gives an impression of why our car was so full you couldn't see out the rearview mirror - I brought everything I could think of that I could possibly want.

What I wanted right now, though, was some Leukotape to try to fix up my poor feet. I sat down on the cot with the cooler as a footrest, and got to work.

Kitchen, bedroom, and meatball surgical ward all in one

One shoe off at a time, examining the state of my much-maligned feet, and the kinesiology tape that had given way.

The bit with the T was started off stuck just below my big toe..

I cut patches of Leukotape and stuck them on the balls of my feet, then slathered them with Trail Toes to keep the patches from sticking to my sock. Once again, I tried to scrape off any sand or dirt that had found its way into my socks and stuck in the lube between my toes, and reapplied some more Trail Toes to keep everything nice and slippery. I changed socks, too, because I had accidentally packed all my favourite trail socks into the clothing bin before the race, then had to grab a less-than-optimal pair in which to start. After I finished putting shoes back on, I'm gonna say I used a sanitizing wipe to clean my hands (which may or may not be true), and dug into some chicken!

I can't begin to describe how amazing this was.
I wish I had some right now..

So here's the thing: I'd had ideas about trying to stay out on the trail for at least 16 or 20 hours before I went for a nap, and it had only been 12 by this point. However, as I sat eating chicken and listening to the rain gain momentum outside, I was gripped by a desire to just put my feet up and rest for awhile, and said as much. Both Scher and Tank encouraged me to do so: there was no point in getting myself worn out and soaked this early in the race. I laughed a bit about how - had I signed up for something more sane and reasonable, like a 12-hour - I'd already be done by now. With having shown up that morning feeling exhausted from a short night of sleep beforehand on top of a lot of late nights and stress in the prior week, I just didn't have the heart to drag myself out of that tent yet. The rain was supposed to last until about midnight, and I was finding it quite distracting in the dark - my headlamp would make drops shine to the left and right of its beam, catching my eye and diverting my attention from trying to avoid obstacles. I caved: having spent from 9:05-10pm fixing my feet and stuffing my face, I bade Scheherazade farewell (she was heading home but would be back the next evening: total fail on getting Tank to nap while she was there as relief crew), changed into a dry shirt and sports bra, got my Garmin on charge (it didn't need it yet, but I wanted to be proactive about charging it while I wasn't moving), swung my legs up onto the stack of pillows on the cot - still in my shoes, as I'd just put them back on after taping my feet - and tried to nap. 

I even popped in some earplugs I'd providently thought to bring!

Tank went out to the car to grab a snooze in the passenger seat while I got my head down - I needed him to keep himself in good condition throughout the coming days so he'd be capable of caring for me. So, I was hopeful that he'd sleep longer than I would, and set an alarm for midnight.

I had some friends to watch over me

It turns out I didn't need the alarm - I'd shut my eyes at 10:14pm, and they banged open again at 11:47pm, after not more than a few minutes of actual sleep but a decent rest. I needed to pee badly, and figured the portajohns were on the course in the right direction, so I might as well get going. I got a couple of laps in while a fog rose in the forest and the moon hung huge and orange above the cornfield, and Tank fortunately slept on - it was at least 2:30am by the time he got up, after I'd gone through another 4 bottles of water, had my first butter tart (about an hour after I got up; I had enough on hand to eat one every 12 hours, but had been happily noshing on chicken at that point), another Endurance Tap gel, and another oatmeal raisin cookie (recording all this stuff for myself while Tank snoozed). I'd also got in about 8 laps (~14km) before he awoke, despite the rain having slicked up the big hill a bit such that my feet would slip a little if I wasn't careful. The hotspot on my right foot was behaving perfectly, though: I'd caught it in time. The one on my left foot, however, was a constant pain while climbing - I was foolish not to properly deal with it when it started, as my right foot wouldn't bother me again for the rest of the event after I applied the Leukotape. Lesson hopefully learned?

The wind blew cool over the cornfield, but the forest trapped pockets of heat and still air that meant I was still perfectly comfortable in my 3/4 sleeve shirt and shorts; it was the first experience I had with what were essentially microclimates within the mile-long course. Tank was awake by 3am when I stopped for a few minutes to eat a chocolate cupcake (the same kind I'd happily scarfed back every 40 laps of my block, 7 months earlier), which honestly ended up being kind of gross - just too much sugar for me at that point. I got another couple of laps in, ate a Skratch crispy rice cake at 4am, and asked Tank to brew me up some coffee. Around 5:15am - after an astonishing 17 bottles of water through the day, and approximately 3,340cal of food since 9am - I came back into the tent with 48 laps completed (just shy of 85km), and sat down to drink a cup of Tanker's percolated magic.

I felt at least as tired as I look here.

Now go ahead and judge me if you will, but I was pretty knackered by this point, not really having slept at all during my first "nap". I was also finding it difficult to keep my posture from disintegrating as my head drooped forward: partly to point my headlamp at the trail for more light (in addition to that cast by my waist light), partly due to the weight of said headlamp on the brim of my hat, and partly just due to general fatigue. If I'm not mistaken (both Tank and I are a little hazy on this point), I believe it also started to rain again a bit. So, while I'd have loved to have gotten in 2 more laps for an even 50, I decided to say screw it and try another nap right then, dropping off at 5:45am with an alarm set for 7:15am, when the light would have returned.

If you wonder why I was doing 90min increments, the average human sleep cycle - from light sleep, down through R.E.M. sleep, into deep sleep, then back up through R.E.M. and light sleep to a near-waking state - is about that length, and unless you keep a nap very short (20mins or less is the rule of thumb) then you risk "sleep inertia" if you try to get up partway through a cycle. If you've ever had that feeling of being even more drowsy after an hour's nap, it's sleep inertia trying to drag you back down to finish what you started. 

While I managed to get my shoes off this time, I failed to put my earplugs in - when I got myself comfortable with my legs up, they were all the way on the other side of the tent - and whether as a result of that or some other factor, I didn't sleep a single wink. I rested until 7:06am when I could no longer take the chill that had crept into me as I lay there with my feet up, and could no longer stave off the pee I so desperately needed. I got my shoes on, then struggled my way into a pair of pants over the shoes as the pre-dawn felt much colder than the night had. Out of the tent under threatening skies, I hadn't yet passed the 24hr mark, but I was into my second day nonetheless..

Looks like rain...and pain...to come.

That's it for Part 1 - to be continued next week!

Continue to Part 2