Butch, with SVTC President Rich Ruozzi and I as passengers, drove up over a couple mountains to Shenandoah, Virginia, for a 5 mile race on the 12th. The starting line was the parking lot immediately to the right of this photo. I am mastering the downhills now, and put the hammer down as I went down the hills on this rolling course. A flat stretch along the Shenandoah River was the toughest part; because I run primarily on hills, the steady effort on the same muscles of a flat course tire my legs. I breathed as deeply and slowly through my nose as I could on the return leg; savoring the scent of the river. The scent took me back to the Wapsi (Wapsipinican), Mississippi and Iowa Rivers back home -- riding in my brothers' flat bottom fishing boats, camping trips on sand islands in the middle of the river, and family outings at my baby brother's cabin and various camp sites, and loads of family folk lore. I thought about many friends rebuilding, as those three rivers have swollen to 500-year records and wiped out many of my old stomping grounds. After saying a quick prayer, I discovered I'd reached the end of the section of the course alongside the river and picked up the pace for the last leg of the race.
My lungs were doing well -- didn't even feel them after the first 5 minutes. So I let my legs dictate the pace; and ran as hard as I could. I reached the finish line at 44:09, an 8:50 mile pace, my fastest on a course greater than 5K.
I ran to the nearest tree and puked . . . I reckon I gave this race my best effort.
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