Prosperity Fire Department 5k and True to the Brew 10k double dip – Prosperity/Pomaria/Peak, SC – 3/30/19


Having died a thousand deaths in the last leg of the Palmetto 200 with the Van on the Run ultra team, I figured I’d take this week easy. I was signed up for the True to the Brew 10k, but at least it was flat, and hopefully I could throw down a decent time without exerting too much effort. Sadly, the Bunny Hop had moved their date to this weekend, so my tenure as the 7 foot rabbit had to take a hiatus. I was halfway into a week of half-hearted slog jogs and too much tennis when Roy Shelley, the newly “elected” dictator president, of the Columbia Running Club, messaged me. He had a double dip challenge for us, with a time window so small it would probably need 2 cars and possibly some executive favors. As it turned out, the Prosperity Fire Department 5k and 10k were starting their races early, with a 7:30 10k and 7:45 5k. True to the Brew started at 8:30. The races were about 15 minutes apart, give or take, so if you could finish the 5k in well under 25 minutes, hop in the car by 8:10ish, there was about a 5-6 minute cushion to make it to TTTB. As probably the most enthusiastic double dipper in the CRC, how could I refuse?? 

Probably by exercising good judgement,  but I digress. Let me say this, Roy puts way more effort in planning things than I do. Dude sends me an agenda, the USATF race routes, road maps. I’m surprised he didn’t get us a police escort. Speaking of executive privilege, one of the hangups  to our plan was the 1 mile shuttle from the parking area to the TTTB start, so we made a plea to Erin Roof for a special parking spot. It seems the Palmetto Conservation Society was being kind of strict, so there was some uncertainty about whether we could get near the start. I figured we would be so late that no one would stop us, but just in case, Pres. Shelley printed out an official “parking pass”. Apparently you can get away with anything if you act like you know what you’re doing.

IMG_9431 (2)_LI.jpg

We had originally planned to meet at the Pomaria ball fields (official TTTB parking) at 6:45 to drop my car off, but typical of my planning style, I called Roy at 6:25 to change it to Peak. TTTB is a point to point race and requires a shuttle to get back to the start, so I figured we might as well use our 2 cars for some good and enable us to leave TTTB at our leisure.

We got to the Prosperity race about 7:05, and actually had to register on site since our plan was hatched so late. We already had the TTTB bibs from early packet pickup, a critical rule of double dipping strategy. I had half-hoped for a trophy hunt at Prosperity. I figured 4 races on the Tour, and this one had both a 5k and a 10k , and it was way out from Columbia. It fit all the Blue Shoes trophy hunting criteria. One snafu though. Apparently there was prize money, so the first thing I see are two local Kenyan guys, Harrison Kirigwi and Norman Maihathi, who decided to split the races and easily take the cash. DOH! Kenzie Riddle was racing for the first time in 2 years in the 5k, and Joy Miller was running the ten. So we had our overall winners set from the start line. Coach B would be racing with me in the 5k for second place. The whole Pearson clan was on hand with Tim, Edy and Tori representing. Ivery Baldwin, Thomas Outlaw, Gretchen Lambert and Tom Lance were some other familiar faces.


At the 5k line, I think the RD saw me taking pics and delayed the start for a minute.  Thanks to me, now things were really tight. I took off pretty hard from the gun but my legs were still hating me from the P200.  Harrison leaves us all immediately, and at the first turn onto Main St, Kenzie and Mark pass me. This course is super flat, and I think I’m giving a decent effort, but I have zero spring in my step. The police car is guiding Harrison, so they send out a 4 wheeler to be the lead “car” for the mere mortals, which is nice. Mile 1 is like 6:37, a good 20+ seconds off my typical 5k pace. I try not to think about the 10k in my near future, but it definitely sinks in as we hit a long stretch on highway 76. I keep Kenzie and Mark within about 10-20 meters for most of the race. There’s a turn around near the 2 mile mark, and Roy is not too far behind, so hopefully we can jump in the car ASAP. I briefly flirt with pushing in all the chips to try and catch Coach B, but he’s summoning his own kick and I got nuthin. Kenzie is right ahead and I almost catch her with the small hill up to the finish but end up a second behind her. 20:27.  Ugly time for sure, but good for 3rd male overall in this trophy hunt. I grab 2 waters from the cooler and Roy comes in a shade under 23 minutes. We both head to the car a sweaty mess and take off, right at 8:10 by my watch. There were a couple of ways we could have gotten to Pomaria, but we decide to go by the Google maps quickest version. Yeah, google maps didn’t adjust for morning 5ks with a bunch of walkers. We end up sitting on 76 staring at someone’s boat trailer for what seems like an eternity. Finally we turn off 76 towards Pomaria, but everyone and their mom is also going that way. As far as the rest of the trip, I would give you details, but per my attorney driver, we “proceeded cautiously, obeying all road signs and observing posted speed limits“.  Let’s just say I didn’t need pre-race warmups to get my adrenaline going.


Roy tears into Pomaria, I mean eases into the town center, and as we randomly park.  I can hear Erin actually counting down to the start. I jump out of the car, hurdle over some grass, narrowly avoid plowing into Joe Roof , and somehow my Garmin miraculously finds a satellite in my 50 meter dash, as I hit the front of the pack just as the countdown hits zero. MADE IT! YAY!

But there was a price to pay. Apparently Thanos has exacted his infinity stone power on my colon because suddenly I don’t feel so good. 

Fifty meters in and I’m already scouting out the woods. Maybe it will pass. Maybe it was just the adrenaline of the start. Maybe if I pick up the pace it will go away. Negative, ghost rider. This was not going to be pretty.  First there’s a stretch of woods with barbed wire, then a swamp. Oh dear God. Then it goes away for a bit…then comes back with a vengeance.  Finally I come up with the bridge idea. I duck under a bridge at about 2 miles, have to climb down with gimp legs, watch for snakes, make 1000 percent sure there are no potential witnesses and sweet Jesus unspeakable horrors were then committed under that bridge. Thankfully there was also a stream there, also of questionable microbiologic content. I can hear everyone tramping on the bridge overhead, oblivious to the haz mat scene just under their feet. Finally, in what seems like ten minutes, but was actually about 4, I emerge like a enormous dazed troll from under the bridge.  And since I have completely blown any TDC points from this race, an enormous, dazed and depressed troll. I feel lighter though definitely with that not so fresh feeling. But there are 4 miles to go and this is not an out and back loop, so I push on. I at least try to maintain around 8 minute pace, because I’m just ready to get this thing done. For those not hampered by a distempered colon, it was a beautiful day on a flat trail through the forest. Just about perfect. I managed to catch up with a bunch of people who were thoroughly confused by my presence. It’s hard to find new ways to politely say I HAD TO TAKE A GIANT DUMP. The last mile or two I started catching some of CRC age groupers, so I picked up the pace to give myself a hell snowball’s chance of age group glory. Of course, I spotted Drew and Nance and Yerg and McGrievy at the start, so these guys were going to have to place and then go three deep masters for me to have a chance. I also forgot that my Garmin was stopped during my off road excursion, so instead of possibly breaking 50 minutes I was closer to 54. Still, there were a couple of middle aged looking dudes in the last mile and I took off , ending in a sprint on the bridge at the finish. Yeah, I should have saved my energy. 53:46, 7th in age group.


The finish line was awesome for this race as usual. There was a good band that actually played at a reasonable volume (as opposed to the occasional race DJs who think they’re at South beach at 3 am), subs,  and of course beer,  served up by the Craft and Draft guys. Weather was perfect too -70’s and sunny. There was a huge Columbia running club/Harbison Trail Runners/RWB/RUI contingent on hand with Brie and Matt McGrievy, Tracy Tisdale,  Bobby Scott, Sabrina Gandy, Ed Aufuldish, Pete O’Boyle, Winston Holliday, Naomi Rabon, Julie McKinnon, Ken and Sheila Bolin, Jen Clyburn, Mike and Pam Griffin, Mackenzie Wilt, Mario Alvarez, Matt Havens, Birte and Jeff Fretwell, Jim Williams, Jeff Longway, Lisa Powell, Ronda Sanders, Mike Ferguson, Renee and Patrick McCormick, Will Rowan, Joe and Janette Robinson, Betsy Long, Teresa Shelton, Lorand Batten, Michael Beaudet, Clara Nance, Lois and Bryan Leaburn, Teresa Harrington, Missy Caughman, Kara Clyburn, Bertha Woehl, Ron Hagell, Chesson Merritt, Maria Pray, Mike and Janice Compton, Sharon Sherbourne, Patti Lowden,  Harry Strick, and Shirley Smith. Amazing turnout for a day with so may other races going on.


Overall 5k winners were Harrison Kirigwi in 15:55, Coach B was second with the Sasquatch 3rd.  Kenzie won the women’s race, with Stacy Willard and Haley Thomason completing the podium.

5k age groupers were President Roy taking first in the 50-54. Tim Pearson took 3rd in the 55-59 with his new bionic knee.

In the 10k, Norman Maihathi took the win in 39 minutes, with Jon Lawson Cope 2nd and Ivery Baldwin getting third. Nice trophy hunt, Ivery!

10k  age groupers: Tori Pearson won the 30-34.  Thomas Outlaw (jr) won the 35-39. Gretchen Lambert took 3rd in the 45-49. Tom Lance won the 50-54. Edy Pearson won the 55-59, while Tommy Outlaw took the 60-64.

In the TTTB:

Mike Nance edged Drew Williams for the win in an epic showdown of Team Carebeers (our Ville to Ville relay team for April 13). Jeff Fretwell was 3rd.

Among the women, Birte Fretwell captured her second True to the Brew title after her half marathon win at Croft State Park last year. Sally Singleton and Jessica Weems were 2nd and 3rd.

Mens masters was won by TUS beast Ed Aufuldish, the YERG and Winston Holliday. Colleen Vowles, Jen Clyburn and Naomi Rabon swept female masters.

Female Age groups: Makenzie Wilt was 3rd in the 30-34.  Julie “2017 Scrotum of the Year” McKinnon and Brie McGrievy went 1-2 in the 40-44. Tracy “Jedi Runner” Tisdale was 3rd in the 45-49. Lisa Powell was 2nd in the 55-59. Lois Leaburn won the 60-64.  Sharon Sherbourne was second in the 65-69. Patti Lowden was tops in the 70+.

Male age groups: Beer mile director Bobby Scott won the 30-34. Matt McGrievy won the 40-44. Ken Bolin and Roy Shelley went 1-2 in the 50-54. Mario Alvarez and Jim Williams took the top 2 spots in the 55-59.  Pete O’Boyle and Jeff Longway were 2nd and 3rd in the 60-64. Mike Compton was 65-69 champ, while Ron Hagell won the 70+.

Prosperity Fire Department 5k/10k:

True to the Brew: Pomaria to Peak 10k;perpage:10

Alex’s true to the POO 10k:

Alex’s Prosperity 5k:




Palmetto 200 – Columbia to Charleston, SC – 3/22-3/23/19


Palmetto 200 #10

A few months ago,  I got a surprise text from the esteemed leader of our Palmetto 200 team, Brian “El Capitan” Clyburn. He was calling a secret meeting with the old guard, the original 4 dudes who had done every Palmetto 200 for Van on the Run since 2010. This band of diehards included Joel “Let me take a selfie” Pierstorff and David “Dmac” McNiece. It seems Brian had hatched a plan to have not one, but two VOTR teams for 2019. On one team, we were going back to our roots, with a coed squad that, while not competing for the overall win, could be competitive in the mixed category. The other team would be a competitive ultra team with 6 people.  Somehow, when given the decision between less miles and more women versus double the miles and 5 other dudes, I chose the latter. What the hell was I thinking?  Apparently, Brian’s plea to my ginormous ego to be on the competitive team worked. Nicely played, El Capitan.

Fast forward to race week, and I am deeply, deeply regretting my ultra team decision. Mount Mitchell had laid waste to my March. Apparently you don’t bounce back from a 37 mile race like a 5k. Especially when you turn 44 that month. Go figure. Anyway, my right knee has been a little wonky since, oh, I don’t know, the 19 miles of pounding down from the highest peak in the eastern US. Did I mention I got thrown into the singles spot for my tennis team on P200 week? Yeah, that was a poor decision too. So in a situation where my legs were of questionable speed and endurance, I was going to throw down 31.5 miles at 7:30 pace.  FANTASTIC. But hey, once you’ve committed to a 6 man ultra team, there is no going back. One, you drop out and your teammates get an extra 50k to share. And two, the pool of potential replacements for someone willing to take a day off from work and spend it running 30+ miles at a hard pace while barely sleeping is exceedingly small. So for better or worse, I was locked in. We had a strong team. Harvested from our original VOTR team was 1:19 half marathoner Rob Gannett, sub 3 marathoner Kevin Selinsky, and local masters beast/1:20 half marathoner and Lake tomahawk shirtless relay champ Michael Nance. Although the aforementioned ultra relay replacement pool is minimal, it is not zero, and Harbison trail runner/ultra beast Bill Siebers gamely filled in when Dean Schuster had to bail several weeks ago.

The VOTR mixed team looked good too. While they had lost our traditional speed demons Rob, Dan and Selinsky, they got some pretty fast women to pick up the slack. Trail machine/HTR runners Alfie Hipps and Jill Hinely, 2017 HTR “Scrotum of the Year” winner Julie McKinnon, and elite road racer turned trail runner Megan Weis were recruited. Jen Clyburn, who has run the fastest 7 mile leg post hotel water poisoning ever, along with speed demon/FBI agent/new momma Julie Bitzel were our original ladies. Julie said her mom was irritated that I wouldn’t be able to blog about her team this year. My apologies, Mrs. Bitzel. Our guys included Formula One van driving/disturbed colon/f bomb prone Darrell Brown, Geary “Gandalf” McAlister, David “perpetually sleeveless” McNeice,  Trey McCain, Joel and Brian. There was not one but two beautiful, color-coded VOTR spreadsheets. I’m sure it took him hours, but knowing Brian’s OCD tendencies, he probably loved every minute of it.

Quick primer on the Palmetto 200. It’s a 200 mile relay from the Columbia area to Charleston, styled on the Hood to Coast relay in Oregon. Traditionally it’s 12 people, each running 3 legs of anywhere from 2 to 10 miles on each leg. There is an ultra division for teams of 6 or less. P200 started in 2010 with us and about 40 other teams, and now it has grown to 150. VOTR was fortunate to take home the 2015 and 2016 overall wins, though the increased popularity of the race and our aging members are going to make another win pretty tough. The teams have staggered start times, with the slowest going off at Friday at 4:30 am and the fastest at 1 pm.  Teams usually finish in 21 to 36 hours, typically in the late morning and early afternoon of Saturday.

I think the full team had a 7:45 projected pace so they still had a 11 am start, and our ultra team was scheduled for 7:02 pace (oh jeezus) and a 12 pm start.  Made for a leisurely morning, which is nice when you’re facing the prospect of very little sleep in the next 24 hours. The 10 minute + pace teams may not be setting speed records, but they are troopers for having to be up before TWO sunrises.

Being a bundle of nervous energy, I got there just after 10, also so I could see the other team off. I made a last-second plea to get Trey to switch to the ultra, but no dice. Team shirts for the ultra were grey on black, earning our unofficial name of the Night’s Watch. Dan Carter was our Jon Snow,  and he had devised what we hoped would be a good plan. Instead of running every 6th leg, we were divided into three two person teams, where we would do 4 legs (2 per person) before passing on to the next mini-team. This would give us at least 8 legs between having to run again instead of five. The idea was the opportunity, between runs,  to get some rest, eat somewhere or dare I say, even sleep. Yeah…we’ll get to that.

I saw the full team off at 11 and we then had a chance to size up some of the competition. Our starting time the second latest/fastest and the last one that had any ultra teams, so the ultra winner would likely come from our group. Our main competition appeared to be an F3 team called Clandestine SOBs, which had a nearly identical proposed pace of just over 7 minutes per mile. The chances of our full team taking the mixed title also appeared slim, because Strictly Running’s Ashley Hrubala, 2018 beer mile champ, had put together a beastly mostly female team with Liz Locke, Mackenzie Jordan and a few other ringers, along with Brady Rafanan and a couple of other guys.

With the 12 pm start, Dan took off like a machine and we were off.  Where we were off to was definitely a question in the first few legs. The course had been altered quite a bit from years past and we were definitely in some places I had never seen. On the plus side, the new exchange zones, which were typically churches, had gone all out on the hospitality front. People were handing out water and food and most importantly, access to real bathrooms. Once you’ve navigated the microbiologic terror zone of portapotties, having running water is like the Ritz Carlton. Dan and Bill set the tone early and crushed legs 1-4. We were way ahead of the spreadsheet and my anxiety about potentially bringing the team down was ramping up. Nance was being eyed by a pack of hungry dogs to start his first leg, which may explain why he blasted it out even harder. He had perhaps the suckiest of the opening legs with a stretch of some thick sand on a dirt road.  I was deathly afraid of a repeat of the 2012 blue ridge relay, where our van was stuck for hours before a tow truck could come. As I was driving, I tried to plow through the sand hard and almost lurched over into Nance in the process.  Running over your teammate would definitely be poor form – think of all those miles to make up!

Fortunately Michael survived and handed off to Kevin, and by the time their second exchange happened we were already catching up with the VOTR full team. We were definitely not saving up for the long haul. We saw Trey take off from Mt Beulah church for leg 7, and Selinsky came rolling in just a few minutes later. Trey blasted through his leg to keep us at bay, but by the time Kevin and Michael had finished their legs, we were close again.

Finally, Rob and I got to run. I basically had to get ready while Kevin was on his leg, because Rob started off with a 1.88 miler. Dan had sadistically given Rob over 18 miles in the middle of the night, so he at least got to start off early. I was waiting at the exchange when Alfie told me something about a 5 dollar bet as to who would get passed by the ultra team. Meg handed off to Alfie and not more than 2 minutes later, here comes Rob “Ricky Bobby” Gannett. Dude had a 7 minute pace written down and I think he finished leg 9 in 5:50 something.  With the handoff, I launch into my first leg, a 6.54 mile jaunt just outside of St Matthews. As soon as I took off, I was relieved that the knee seemed to be OK. Perhaps all that foam roller love making and manic piriformis stretching had paid off.  My set pace was 7:30, so I tried to settle into a nice quick cadence. First mile 7 flat. DAMN IT.  I was setting myself up for a major bonk if I continued with this. I tried to back it off some, but after I froggered across a highway I could see Alfie in the distance. Don’t chase her down, don’t be an idiot….when all of a sudden I hear footsteps. WTF?? Sure enough, the SOB’s lean beast clandestinely comes by me and my ego can’t handle it. I manage to keep up with him for awhile, but soon decide this is a recipe for disaster, so I let him go. Damn these clandestine SOBs. Middle miles are like 6:59, 7:06, 6:50. I can’t seem to find 7:30,  which makes sense since I either run sub 7 pace or my 9:30 slog jog training runs. I make one last turn about 2 miles from the finish and then I remember. This damn leg finishes on the St Matthews mountain, that freak of SC geography that gives everybody a bad case of the relay walksies.  At least the exchange zone was now just halfway up it, our usual vantage point to make fun of whatever poor sap on our van had to run it (for the record it was me last year). After the turn with the full team van spectating at the corner, I ramp it up and finally overtake Alfie, hopefully earning someone 5 bucks. It’s not easy because she is pulling sub 8 pace herself. The last quarter mile of this leg is pure hell, as I charge up the mountain, fearful Alfie is going to get her five dollars back. The team with the driver in full clown costume is hiding in the woods at the roadside and I swear I’m in A bad stephen king IT remake. I come flying into the finish and hand off to Rob. I missed the first 0.75 miles on my Garmin, so pace was probably a hair under 7 minutes. Because that’s 50k pace, right? Nice job, hero.

And with Rob doing a 4 miler next, I basically jump into our van a sweaty mess,  and immediately head for the next exchange zone. There I see Code warming up, and he’s going next for the full team. Damn, I’m going to get overtaken by my own archrival. I down some water and do some of my ridiculous piriformis/IT band acrobatics, and an excruciatingly short time later, Gannett comes rolling into the zone. I’m now off on leg 12, a 5.58 miler through the town of St Matthews.  It’s hard to imagine but I’ve somehow managed to get stiff in like 25 minutes. Fortunately my initial awkward gait holds me to a more reasonable 7:25 and I try to hold that. I’m in a good place for about 3 miles until Trey pulls up in the full van and says CODE IS LIKE 2 MINUTES BEHIND YOU.  @#$@$!  There goes my Bob Ross happy place. I try ramping it up a bit, but damned if these hidden hills pop up out of nowhere. I swear I saw nothing on the elevation chart. The next 2 miles are pretty much on pace, though I am running from the ghost of Code, who I imagine on my heels at any minute. Finally there’s a long straightway for the last half mile, and I kick it in a little to make sure I don’t get Darrelled. As soon as I finish, Trey says he lied to me and that Code was probably actually 5 minutes behind. He still made major time on me, doing his leg in 6:30 rather than my 7:30. But hey, he doesn’t have 20 more miles to go.

It’s about this time that I realize the ultra team struggle is real. It’s gotten dark, and the couple of thousand calories I’ve burned are gnawing a hole in my stomach. With the full team you have plenty of time to go get some food –  the Santee Cracker Barrel or Waffle House has been a mainstay of VOTR. But there’s no way with one van and everybody completing their legs in under an hour. I am forever thankful I got two subs at the Red Bank subway at the start, because I start wolfing down the second one like a hungry raccoon after my second leg.  Dan opted out of the second sub and started cramping in his fourth leg, just after Rob and I did our first two. We had to make an emergency BACONATOR run for Dan to the Santee Wendy’s, which was desperately trying to close after being descended upon by an onslaught of ravenous sweaty people. After the baconator run, our relay was almost waylaid by my gas station soda purchase getting blocked by two very drunk guys slowly buying cigarettes and lottery tickets. Such are the perils of rural SC. Fortunately we made it back just in time to beat Selinsky to the next exchange. In the midst of the chaos, I had a haunting revelation that , in addition to lack of food, ain’t nobody going to sleep in this thing. At least I wouldn’t. With my Sasquatch physique, I need to sleep outside the van, and as we were basically constantly moving, that wasn’t happening. As far as the actual race, we still seemed to be making good time, though we weren’t banking any more time against the spreadsheet. But honestly, we weren’t entirely sure since survival was the operative word by this stage.

My big gulp pepsi seemed to provide me with a much needed boost as Nance and Selinsky were out for a couple of 8 and 7 milers. I saw Deogracias out there talking about his 5:30 pace legs, though I think he was out of place with his 9 minute pace team. I was surprised how awake I was since I struggle to make it past 10 pm on most nights. I know, such is my wild and crazy suburban middle aged dad life. My second batch of legs was mercifully short, only a 2.4 and a 4.6 miler near Holly Hill, but really in the epicenter of nowhere. My legs were basically shot already, just really tight. And damn, it was cold. It think under 40 degrees. Thankfully Dan was staying with us at the exchange so I could give him my hoodie at the last second, even while battling the toxic colonic effects of the baconator. My third leg was at 1:30 am and I am sure I looked ridiculous lurching off the start. Even with all my stretching and trying to get loose, it was definitely a tin man effect trying to get up to pace. I might have normally done low 6 pace on this tiny leg, but it took all my effort to manage a 7:36 first mile. I managed to loosen up somewhat and was at 7:16 my the end, but the whole thing was over in 18 minutes. Poor Rob then had a 9.6 miler ahead of him. We made our way to the next exchange zone, Galilee Christian church, home of the best 5 dollar ham sandwiches ever. The other guys got a little sleep. Of course I had to run as soon as Rob finished. I managed to doze off a little but I had to set an alarm. I left the van early to avoid waking the guys but I was freezing my ass off outside. I did some stretching and tried to warm up some, but yeah, it was 3 am and cold and all my body wanted to do was curl up in the corner. I forced myself to go up to the exchange zone a little early, but literally  the second I got there, here comes Rob. Dammit Ricky Bobby, too much shaking and baking out there! I threw off my hoodie and gave it to Rob as I took off into the night again. This felt even worse than before, basically the brain trying to veto the overwhelming consensus from the rest of my body that this was an exceedingly bad idea. First mile was an epic struggle bus, giving me a 7:53 split. Though pretty fast for a peg legged speed hobble. At some point in mile 2 things loosened up and I actually felt ok, as this leg was pretty much pool table flat. The knee was holding up and there were plenty of other teams to take down. And apparently one of those easy targets was me.  Despite turning in a 7:17 for mile 3, I’m hearing damn footsteps again. WTF?? Some guy surges past me and I of course try to follow. Apparently I’m high on the mania of no sleep and not much food and I manage to tail him for a while in a 7:10 4th mile. But then he puts the hammer down and leaves me for dead. I’m not sure what team he was on but Strava says I ran with BRIAN TUMA for that leg, with him rocking a 6:36 pace. Well played, Mr. Tuma. I was just hoping he wasn’t one of those Clandestine SOBs. I hand off to Rob, who then has another 8.8 miles – just brutal.  After Rob, Dan took off on his last set of legs from the insane exchange zone of “Hatchery Waterfowl Management”. It was like a war zone in there, with the object not to run over people or get your van blocked. Somehow I had become the driver again, probably because I was so jacked from my 4th leg.

Dan and Bill were doing great, but at some point I was not.  5:30 am hit and I was going down hard. Selinsky mercifully took over  driving duties and I zonked into a coma for a while in the back. It was painfully short but it was just enough to keep me going. I couldn’t bear the thought I had almost a half marathon to go. I managed to choke down some raisin bread and animal crackers as my “breakfast”, but we were too out of the way for a coffee run. I woke up to see some daylight and Nance do his version of the tin man starting his leg 6. I knew he and Kevin had super short final legs, so I was going to be back in the rotation real soon. Dan and Siebers were in great spirits, as they were done. Dear mother of God I was tired.

As luck would have it, my 5th leg was 7.5 miles, and the same leg in 2010 (the first P200) where I had hallucinations and a bad case of the walksies. I was definitely afraid of a repeat performance. My only saving grace was that this time it was daylight (9 am) and it had at least warmed up to the 40’s. I was insanely stiff once again and again struggled to a 7:51 first mile. Thankfully the course evened out after an initial slow incline. Somehow my legs remembered the 7:30 pace again and I just plowed ahead. There was a pack of five people I caught in the first 2 miles and then it was just me and the course. I knew at this time that the SOBs were a good six minutes ahead, so short of a repeat of 2016 (where I made up 3 minutes on a Clemson Thundercat because he caught a case of the poopsies, then the next runner got lost), we weren’t running for glory anymore. Just finish. I was locked in like a braindead zombie for the final 5 miles (final 4 splits 7:30/7:31/7:33/7:32) with a thousand yard stare and nothing on my mind other than finding that exchange zone. I was so glad to make that last turn and see Rob waiting for me. I even “kicked it in” for a 7:23 pace half mile. That was all I had.

Poor Rob, having endured 19 miles in the middle of the night, had to face another 8.1 right after I finished. Our next exchange zone was at the Sewee outpost, home of the best coffee and sausage biscuit ever. Unfortunately, they moved the zone to the end of their long driveway, and I just didn’t have the energy to try and walk that far and get my coffee fix. I did some more stretching in the grass, but it was clear my body was revolting on all fronts regarding the idea of running again. But I had 4.86 miles to go, basically straight up highway 17 after a 1 mile loop in a neighborhood.

Rob killed the 8 miler in well under an hour and once again I was out on the course. I had to cross highway 17 , which was definitely sketch in the condition I was in. Fortunately or unfortunately I hit a break in the traffic and went straight across. Once in the neighborhood I was definitely hurting, but it was relatively flat and hey, this was my last leg, how hard could it be? Apparently, extremely and excruciatingly. I was ok through the neighborhood loop, but after mile 1 (a stiff legged 7:59) you get thrown out onto the shoulder of highway 17. It’s now close to 11 am, its warming up, the road is a constant slight incline,  but the worst is the damn wind. Straight into my face. Punctuated by cars going 55 mph+ a few feet to my right. I focus on chasing a guy in front of me, who finally just starts walking. I trade a “THIS LEG SUCKS” with him saying something about it being A DEATHTRAP. Or maybe that was just my sleep deprived brain.  Who knows. The road felt like it went on forever, and I couldn’t see anything resembling an exchange zone. In my mind, I knew I hadn’t  run a  mile over 8 minutes, and so I focused on trying to keep the streak going. 7:53, 7:56. Mile 3 to 4 was just torture and I could feel everything starting to shut down. The tank was on E and the light was on. Thankfully around this time I made out a police car sitting in the median in the distance. THAT MUST BE THE END. Streak failure at the 4 mile mark, 8:11. At least it was 31 miles in. The last 0.8 felt like a dream. Brain was foggy and legs were complete mush. I saw a big gap in the traffic and ran across to the median almost a quarter mile ahead of time, but damned if I was going to have to wait when I got to the zone. Thankfully the coast was clear when I finally reached the police car and I hobbled into the zone utterly depleted of everything. I handed off to Rob and walked off in a delirium. Somehow I ended up back in the van . I was DONE.

We sped off to the finish, because even though Rob’s tank was on E too, you never know when he might get frisky. We had an outside shot at 24 hours, but since I donated about 2.5 minutes back to the spreadsheet,  I knew that was probably cashed. What’s more, Rob had to face another gauntlet of 2+ miles on 17, which he later said was an absolute nightmare. He also caught the contagion of almost faintsies and a little walksies, but such is the price for nearly 40 miles of 6:30 pace. He rolled in at 24:02 as we all followed like a pack of tinmen into the finish. I literally couldn’t manage more than a speed walk. But VOTR ultra’s journey was complete!  2nd place ultra team is not too shabby. The SOBs were gracious in victory and were not true to their name – seemed like a bunch of really  nice guys. I’ll even forgive the superfit guy that shamed me on leg 1. The beer at the finish was awesome, and the Moe’s was like fine dining since I was probably 4k of calories in the hole.  I have been known to go back on most of my “never again” declarations, but I would like to publicly state that I will never do the ultra team thing again. I think most of my teammates agree. Double the legs and no sleep is no joke.


Our full team did great as well, also taking 2nd place among the mixed teams in 26 hours flat, behind Ashley’s “A Walk and a Hard Pace” team , who did 25 hours. Great to see all the Columbia peeps out there. Special props to the volunteerism of the Richards family, with JOhn and Char manning two zones, and Andy always providing me with emergency TP! Jordan Lybrand and Plexico’s team crushed second overall in a shade under 22 hours. Southern Stride with Wendy Hart, Ross Shealy and Julia Norcia took 3rd place mixed with 27 hours.;perpage:10












Lucky Leprechaun 5k – Camden, SC – 3/2/19


So I was kind of on the fence about this weekend- Silent H was doing the Run Hard half and I’ve been wanting to throw down on that tough course to see what I can do. However, I’m a horrible planner, and a quick look at February showed that this was one weekend after Mt Mitchell. I’m pretty dumb when it comes to running decisions, but I was pretty sure that racing a hard, hilly half seven days after a 40 miler wasn’t exactly in my best interest.

While I debated the run hard 5k and the allure of a years worth of chick fil a (masters win), Erin Roof started harassing me about this race in Camden. Last year the Lucky Leprechaun fell on my birthday and I got a cookie cake along with a forced happy birthday singalong by unwitting camdenites, 99 percent of whom had no idea who this melon headed megalomaniac was. Erin reminded me it was once again my birthday weekend and suggested I was definitely elite enough to get a race invite. Feeding the already ridiculous ego is an easy play for Mrs. Roof. Of course, I was still facing doing a 5k on ultra legs, so that didn’t sound super appealing. And it’s pretty much impossible for me to pin on a bib and not go 1000 percent. I’ve found only one solution to racing if I can’t run a fast time: COSPLAY. My act as the seven foot sub seven pace rabbit has been a fixture at the YMCA Bunny Hop 5k for years. And I’ve recently expanded my repertoire to the see spot giant dog and pharoah/viking/Hulk at the pumpkin run. And who better to play a little person character than 6’3″ sasquatch with a giant head?? At least there was the enormous ego and insatiable need for attention.

I spent a considerable amount of time scouring amazon prime for a leprechaun costume that was actually runnable. Plus, im not exactly one size fits all, so there’s that. I finally found one that had not only sexy green velour pantaloons but also a glowing review by some 6’4″ monster that said it FIT GREAT! Perfect. Oh and it was. Arriving in the mail in 2 business days, this was a cosplay masterpiece, complete with shamrock vest, bowtie, and miraculously, a hat that fit.

Fast forward to race day and legs were definitely still feeling the 7 and a half hours of mountain running from last weekend. Luckily the weather was pretty nice.  Good and chilly was perfect , especially for those in a green tux with tails. vThe race helps support the Camden Irish Fest and it looked like they had a cool set up for the event. Drew Williams, Mark Bedenbaugh, Jennifer and Jason Norris, Pete Poore, Leeds Barroll, Geary McAlister, Will and Amanda Rowan, Gabriel Barahona, Kara Clyburn, Michael Beaudet, Tom and Lisa Hart, Clara Nance, Ginger Catoe, and Melanie Lindsay were the familiar faces/Columbia Running Club contingent. Tracy aka Jedi Runner Photography lent her photo skills to document all the Irish glory. Looking at the competition at the start, it looked like Plexico versus a fit looking teenage kid in arm warmers. Drew looked to take the masters win but would probably make the overall podium. I had no idea about what I could do. I told Geary in  my warmup that the legs felt like death and I would be mailing this one in. Geary has raced me too many times to know I was lying to myself  “LIKE HELL YOU WILL”. Yep, he was probably right.


The course is pretty mostly a rectangle in Camden with a gradual, steady incline in the first half and then the reverse on the way back. If you haven’t run a 40 miler in the past few days, it can produce a pretty fast time. Course is pretty much right on the 3.11 by Garmin and is certified.

With the gun, I try to attempt 5k pace but it feels instantly like hell. My right hammy, notorious for being tight, decides to make itself known immediately that it is not ready for this abuse. I instantly fall back in the pack and seriously debate throwing down a few 7:30s and calling this a day. But then I get passed by the first female, and my ego is getting checked right off the bat. And despite the slightly awkward costume, the pantaloons are pretty freeflowing. Probably too much based on the pictures. Yikes. First mile is steady uphill and after the first mile my hammy relents a little and lets me pick it up some. I’m about 10 meters back from two grandmasters beasts coming back from injury, Coach B and Geary. I hit mile one in 6:56, about 40 seconds off my usual 5k pace, which kills me so I ramp it up some more. We round the block at the turnaround and I’m hot on the heels of a Camden XC kid who looks like he’s maybe 13 or 14. Surprisingly he turns and gives me a fist bump and says good job to the Leprechaun twice his size.  Mile 2 in 6:46, so at least I’ve gotten down to half marathon pace. Last stretch is a steady downhill and I’m thinking I can catch Geary and Mark if I really push it. Like Tom Petty, I I push the pedal down to make some time.  I manage to catch Geary about 2.5 miles in but Mark is kicking it in pretty hard. Arm warmer teen, who I thought might give Plex a run for his money, has adopted some kind of walk/run method and is just ahead stopped for a moment. I’ve seen him leapfrogging up ahead for the past mile or so.  He sees me coming and jumps back onto the road. Mark is up ahead, probably with tongue out and harnessing some of that old 14 min 5k speed in his kick. As we make the turn onto Dekalb St, I know we have about a quarter mile to go. Arm warmer teen stops again and I try to blow by him as hard as I can. With the last turn onto Market St, I know I cant catch Coach B . But as I try to pose for the Jedi Runner camera, I sense arm warmer approaching on my side. OH HELLS TO THE NO.  The dark passenger that dwells inside me comes to the fore and turns my race into Lucky Charms on meth as I catapult towards the finish, holding off arm warmers at the tape. Garmin records a 4:30/mile pace on the final stretch as I crash through in 20:30. Good enough for 2nd masters, 6th overall. It wasn’t pretty but I’ll take it in full costume on ultra legs.


In the overall, Plex took the win in 17:51. Sixteen year old Cameron Hoffman took 2nd with 2018 LL champ Drew Williams finishing 3rd. Nichole Hill, Olivia Robertson and Saskia Munn took the women’s overall Coach B, myself and Geary took the male masters podium, with Lori Tucker, Jill Surface and Bertha Woehl taking the top 3 masters women.

Age group: Will Rowan was 3rd in the 40-44 men,  Jim Williams was 3rd in a brutally competitive 55-59 group. Leeds Barroll and Pete Poore were 2nd and 3rd in the 65-69. Kara Clyburn won the 40-44 women. Clara Nance was 3rd in the 45-49.

Oh and let’s not forget the all important costume contest. Clara Nance, a dude with an Ireland flag cape and the 6’3″ leprechaun all took home wins and a Texas Roadhouse gift certificate. And 50+ Camdenites were forced once again to sing happy birthday to the random idiot in the costume. And I got birthday beer. The megalomania lives on.;perpage:5000





Mount Mitchell Challenge (40 miles) – Black Mountain, NC – 2/23/19


I think it was mere minutes after my first ultra, the grueling Table Rock 50k in Morganton, NC, before the Harbison Trail Runners were already brainwashing me towards my next bad running-related decision. Since I was a newly minted ultramarathoner, it seemed only fitting that my next task would involve taking on one of the most sought after races on the East Coast, the Mount Mitchell Challenge. I was assured that it was a super fun weekend, with lots of craft beer drinking, camaraderie, and oh… a little 40 mile jaunt to the highest peak east of the Mississippi and back. In the twisted minds of HTR leaders Rick “Uncle Ricky” Stroud and Dean Schuster, they knew they only had to get a few pints in me before I was prone to an itchy trigger finger on the race registration button. Somehow along the way I said I was totally in for 40 miles of “fun”.

Of course, I had to get in first. The race has a lottery system and is more than just a little bit popular. Luckily the HTR have become legendary at this race, making it an annual tradition, so much that several of them have 10+ Mitchells under their belt. Hopefully my relation to this group and Uncle Ricky’s magic helped turn the odds in my favor.

Of course, since I now had a coveted Mitchell spot, I had better train for the damn thing . My weekly diet of 5ks and slog jogs were probably not going to cut it. Instead of having a clear training plan in place, I was mostly driven by anxiety. I loaded up my weekly mileage most of December (to around 50-60 mpw) then did the Harbison 50k. My 5:58 was not exactly Western States worthy but it was a big PR for me, especially if you subtract my mid race near-dropout and portapotty demolition. I followed that up with what I call my “tired 20 milers”, i.e. doing 20 mile long runs on Sundays after racing on Saturday. In my complete ultra-noob brain, doing 20 mile slog jogs on flat roads would somehow prepare me for a race double the distance with basically zero flat stretches on rocky trails. I should be ultra coach of the year for sure.

I did try to taper the final week before the race, which I basically followed, except playing tennis and tweaking my knee and causing intense anxiety I wouldn’t be able to run at all. Somehow it cleared up and I was ready to go.

Of course running is only a small part of the weekend for the HTR, with the rest of the time spent brewery hopping. Despite my regular training in the discipline of beer drinking, I was fearful I would be outclassed in this department as well. Despite my love of craft beer and the fact I am an almost 200 pound Irish blooded man , I have the tolerance of a first semester sorority girl. Get more than 4 beers in me and its a completely unpredictable fine line between pleasantly sloshed and hugging the toilet.

Sheila Bolin, the Yerg, Nance and I carpooled up to Black Mountain early Friday  and we met Tracy and Julie McKinnon, Ken and Jill Hinely, Marion Hinson and Bill Siebers for lunch at Asheville Brewing company. They all made sure to stoke my ultra anxiety further which forced me to drink a couple hazy IPAs and half a pizza. Carb Loading, right? We followed that with a trip around the block to Hi-Wire brewing and met up with ex-Columbians Drew and Sarah Soltau. Only three hours in and I was going to have to pace myself with the beer already.


After our Asheville brewery mini-tour, we made our way to Black Mountain. Rick basically takes over the area near the finish with 3 rented houses. I think the HTR group was its largest ever, with over 30 people. We had an awesome house close to the finish line with Dean, the Soltaus, Shiela, Yerg and Nance. The pre-race dinner was huge with everyone converging on the biggest rental. There HTR’s from past and present, near and far, came to meet. I learned the lore of beasts like Kevin Frontz, Matt Stanek, and  Jeff Radenbaugh , all of whom had done over 15 Mitchells. Other familiar faces were CIRC girls Soleil Black and Nikki Hernandez, Barefoot John Richards (dad Andy was also running), Columbian turned Seattleite Scott Hodukovich, One hundred mile machine Kenneth Ebener and wife Brooke, Randy Smith , Jay Hammond, Clifford Corley, and Ken Cobb. As is tradition amongst the HTR, their most coveted prize is awarded there – SCROTUM (South Carolina Runners of Trails and Ultra Marathons) OF THE YEAR. While many worthy nominations were made (Dean, Marion, Alfie Hipps), ultimately the balls stayed in the family with 2018 winner Julie McKinnon passing the sack to husband Tracy.



Well deserved, indeed. We followed the dinner with a quick walk up to the White Horse bar for the packet pickup and race briefing. There had been much consternation about the weather – icy conditions could shut down the summit and limit the event to the “undercard”, the Black Mountain marathon only. Fortunately (unfortunately?) the weather called for brutally cold rain and wind, but no ice, so the challenge was still a go. They did have to reroute the summit portion to the roads only, which would shorten the course slightly (i.e. 37ish rather than 40 miles).  So I guess that was plus for me, if not for the trail purists of the bunch.


Although some opted to stay out, I was too afraid of getting sloppy like my legendary Sidetrack brewery visit pre-Table Rock, so I went back to the house and tried to prepare. It was supposed to be mid 30’s, windy and raining most of the race. This would not a huge deal for a road 5K, but I figured 7 hours plus for me out there. I had no idea what to wear. In another paradox, my 6’3″ “insulated” frame gets chilly like a 90 pound woman. And I hate being cold. So after a restless, lousy sleep, I woke up and came up with my very chic attire:  long sleeve tech shirt, HTR short sleeve tech, covered up by not one but two tech running jackets, tights and shorts, thick winter gloves, a hat, and the piece de resistance..heavy blue poncho. I looked like a complete noob idiot, so I guess I was conveying an accurate message.


Course map Black Mountain (start) to Sourwood Gap (6.9 miles)

After a quick photo op with the entire HTR crew, we headed to the start line in downtown Black Mountain. At the start, the rain was barely a mist and it was probably 40 degrees, so not too bad. With the gun, we all lurched into the morning darkness. The first 2-3 miles are on the paved roads of Black Mountain and Montreat, so certainly my element. Given my fear of the distance, I went out in my “all day” pace of 9:30 or so. Even with the slog jog pace, I was already getting hot. I thought about just dumping the poncho, but I took it off and tied it to my backpack like a giant blue sail. I’m sure the others were impressed by my elite look. About a 5k in we get dropped into the Rainbow trail, which is a nice, soft single track that made for effortless running. Incline wasn’t too bad and I was all like, “this isn’t too bad at all!”.  I managed to leapfrog a few guys and felt generally great. The weather was misty but not really too cold, not much wind. Somewhere in the 6-7 mile range is the first aid station, one of the biggest on course, Sourwood gap.  The second I got there, it was clear things were going to change. The wind picked up, the trail appeared to widen significantly and it was suddenly a lot colder. I strode over to the aid station smorgasbord and realized my go-to ultra food, PB and J squares, wasn’t there. Ruh roh. Fortunately my stomach , while ready to revolt with alcohol, is cast iron when it comes to food. And sweet baby Jesus they had animal crackers. I have an embarrassing fetish for blando semi-sweet things and damned if I don’t love those little bits of animal shaped goodness. Seriously, my wife buys me the family size Barnum’s crackers sometimes, and by “family”, I mean me. I took down a couple of orange slices and stuffed a couple of handfuls of animal crackers into my mouth like an overzealous albino Cookie Monster. I’m sure the aid station ladies could barely control themselves.

With a gullet full of citrus and white flour, I headed out onto the next section, the Old Mitchell toll road. Things turned south in a hurry. Gone was the smooth singletrack of Rainbow, replaced with a wide swath of what can best be described as a rocky creek bed. With all the rain, some parts were actually flowing with water. To boot, the incline ratcheted up significantly, and between the high stepping and rock dodging, I had my first case of walksies. As a road racer, I hate walking more than anything, but I’ve tried to learn to embrace some strolling on ridiculously hard mountain races. This terrain went on for miles. The only break to the creek bed trail were a few hunt camps were apparently the quarry are bears. Great, as if I don’t have enough race anxiety already. In between those were a few apparently abandoned trailers that looked like they were last used in the Carter administration. Spooky. The next aid station was at Pot Cove and more crackers and oranges were shoved down with a few shots of coke. I was worried about trail code browns, but so far the belly was behaving. Continuing up the trail,  a few other guys and I kept leapfrogging with our alternating walk/run. I usually do well on inclines, so I was making slow progress against the field.  At some point amidst zoning out for miles, I looked down to check my progress. About 12.6 miles in, I saw I was registering a blazing 2 hrs and 40 minutes. As a 1:30 minute road half marathoner, this was humbling to see as it is, but then I remembered the 3 hour cutoff at about 14 miles. Oh hell, I’d better stop all this soccer mom mall walking and get my ass in gear. In this case “in gear” meant 10 minute miles, but at least I was constantly jogging. Gabe Hipps was crushing it in the marathon and he was already coming down so hopefully the cutoff point was close. After a tense few minutes, the blue ridge parkway/marathon turnaround came into view around 2 hrs 50 minutes. Dang, I came within 10 minutes of getting pulled from the challenge and dropped back to the marathon. Whether this was a good or bad thing remained to be seen.


Sourwood Gap mile 6.9 to Blue Ridge parkway mile 14

Coming out to the open parkway it was considerably colder, windier and the rain had picked up. Between the animal crackers and oranges, out came the sexy blue poncho again. The next few miles sucked with a capital S. I was thrilled to get out of the rocky nightmare and back on to the roads, but the parkway was steep. I caught up with one dude, whom we will call “Mr. Beard”, a 28 yr old who was dropping more F bombs than me and doing walk/runs. He assured me he was a 17 min 5ker if he was training and that he was a running coach. Hey man, whatever makes you feel better about running with an ultra noob 43yo sasquatch in a giant blue Mary Poppins poncho. Instead of hitting the Buncombe horse trail this year, we got diverted straight up the Mt Mitchell park rd. After putting some distance on Mr. Beard, Marion Hinson catches up to me during one of my low points and gets me to start running again. After a while he started walking and I just kept going to see how far I could stand it. By this time the road was super steep and you couldn’t see more than a few hundred feet ahead. I’m sure the vistas are usually beautiful in this area, but when it’s 35 degrees, pelting sideways rain in 30 mph gusts… not so much. The whole scene was wrapped in an apocalyptic fog that seemed right out of a science fiction movie. You tend to question your life decisions when you’re leaning into a brutal torrential hellwind , yelling F bombs when the poncho flaps back in your face. Good times. But at least there was company to the misery. Tracy is the first to come down from the top proving that there was indeed a bright spot ahead. Kenneth was soon after, and then Rick was clearly having a good run as he was right on the heels of these ultra studs. Nance, Drew, Bill and Hinely followed in succession. My presence had been a voodoo curse to Hinely in previous races, so it was good to see him running well. With all these guys coming at me, it was encouragement to at least muster a jog, because who wants to get caught in the walksies while everyone else is crushing it downhill. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally approached the summit a little over 4 hours and 19 miles in. Legs were pretty cashed from all the climbing, but it felt great to make it to the whole point of the challenge. And I was definitely getting a damn picture at the sign. Problem is, my phone was locked and there was basically nothing dry to be had anywhere, much less on my person. After a tense few minutes and some desperate raisin fingered screen pushing, I managed to get my code in and get a surprisingly great pic. The girl at the top is a real trooper for indulging all of our grandiose picture needs.


Marion hit the summit soon after and he took off back towards home. We stopped briefly at the summit aid station, but he started flying down the mountain at a pace I couldn’t keep. Why? My legs felt like trash and the pounding hurt like hell with all the sudden downhill. For the next few miles I kept up a slow slog jog down all those miles of road, in between getting passed and cursing myself for not being able to take advantage of what should have been my absolute strength. A few miles down from the summit I hit the Steppes Gap aid station and it felt way too good to stop. I made myself lurch forward again and felt a touch of the wobblies, but managed to get back on the downbound train. With all the downhill and no more walking, the Blue Ridge parkway/marathon turnaround came up shockingly fast. I really thought there was a mile plus to go to the station when I saw it, so I guess my race brain delirium had set in. When I got there, I was greeted by HEY ITS PONCHO GUY by one of the kids there. I’m so proud. The volunteer woman, also known as the race director’s wife, was talking about how a few of the racers who missed the cut off weren’t so nice to her. I was a mumbly cold mess, but I assured her she was an absolute saint for standing out here in the brutal cold and rain for hours on end. She was tending a giant cauldron of Top Ramen that smelled like heaven. With no spoons to be had, I shoveled/slopped the soup into my mouth with reckless abandon. It was not my classiest moment. With a belly full of ramen and another dose of animal crackers, I was set for Old Mitchell Road again.  A few lonely minutes on the trail made me a little nervous that I had somehow missed a turn, but soon people started showing up. First one, then two more , then another three. Yep, it was official, I was sucking. Between my less than agile frame, fear of falling on rocks from my near death experience in 2013, and the cinder block fatigue of 23+ miles, I was barely moving down the mountain. I tried to quicken my pace, take more rapid smaller steps, NOPE.  What’s worse, here comes mr beard bounding down the mountain, “See, it’s good to learn downhills!” REALLY, DUDE?? Just then, I hear a beep on my Garmin. Wow, that must have been a quick mile! Checking my pace, all I see is LOW BATTERY.


Blue ridge parkway mile 14 to Mt Mitchell summit mile 19

MOTHER#@$#^&#$!  Sure enough, just before 29 miles, the black screen of death pops up on my 5 year old garmin 620. DAMN IT. I’m a slave to the Garmin anyway, but especially in a long race, and this about killed me. A girl passed me about this time and I decide to pick it up the best I can to soldier through the rest of this. From the Pot Gap station all the way to Sourwood Gap, I’m unintentionally riding her back, but she’s not going any faster and I’m desperately trying to stay in motion. I’m cursing every damn rock by this time but at least a woman half my size is helping me now where to step. Hitting the Sourwood station is glorious because I know the way back is shorter and maybe 5 miles to the finish. One last blast of bland animal shaped goodness and a few orange slices and I’m good to go. I apologize to the poor woman for chasing her down like a depraved bear for the past few miles, and let her have a few seconds to have a rest from the trackdown. With the turn off the Old Mitchell Rd, the weather gets warmer and less rainy and thank the Lord less rocky. Before I know it I’m careening down a gravel road, and I meet up with a nice dude from Ohio who helps distract me for a couple of miles. He had done Western States in 23 hours, so I knew he was just out for a stroll with Poncho Boy. But I appreciated it nonetheless. Finally we break off the gravel and go flying down an even steeper ski slope of a paved road, dumping us back in Montreat. Being back on flat roads, and the euphoria of being close to the finish, makes me ramp it up. It feels like we are blazing, but I’m guessing its 8ish pace. Of course I can’t tell with my dead Garmin. There’s  a few weird miles near town where we go in and out of some roadside trails, and I’m desperately just trying to follow the signs. Finally there’s the “unofficial” aid station with beer and whiskey apparently. Although sorely tempted, I have my eyes on that finisher fleece and a warm shower, so I blast through. My trail buddy succumbs to the alcohol and I’m alone for the last mile and a half. As I near Black Mountain, I see a guy in red that I take as Marion in his HTR shirt. I start really blasting it out then, thinking I can definitely catch him. And I do, but then I realize its not him. It looks like I’m definitely going to be DFL of the HTR challenge guys. The finish of the race is a half mile around Lake Tomahawk. After passing faux Marion and a couple other guys, I’m high on adrenaline. And then I see him. MR BEARD. OH HELLS YEAH. All of a sudden my 8 minute pace turns to 6 minute pace and BEARD starts walking. I manage to show self restraint and avoid a great chance at a snarky comment, but try to blast past as fast as I can. One more bridge and I come flying under the finish line arch like its a damn 5k, 7 hours and 32 minutes after I started. TOTAL EUPHORIA, PONCHO BOY WAS DONE. Rick and Cliff are at the finish line and I ask to be immediately directed to the fleece table. Never have I been so happy to get a jacket in my life. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t that fast, but it was done!


In the challenge, newly anointed SOTY Tracy Mckinnon harnessed the power of the sack in a 5:54, 3rd master finish. Kenneth Ebener wasn’t far behind in 6:05, and fearless HTR leader Rick Stroud ran an impressive 6:14. Bill Jordan ran 6:21, Mike Nance did 6:33,  Soltau clocked a 6:44, Bill Seibers 6:51, Ken Hinely 6:52, Marion Hinson 7:18, Nikki Hernandez 8:03, Kenneth Johns 8:26.

Columbia/HTR finishers in the Black Mountain Marathon: Gabe Hipps 4:27, Luke Walden 4:33,  Matt Stanek 4:53, Craig Burnworth 5:13, Cliff Corley 5:22, Jeff Radenbaugh 5:25, Kelley Fejes 5:35, Jim Cobb 5:37, Jill Hinely 5:46, Dean Schuster 5:46, Randy Smith 5:48 Julie McKinnon 5:49, John Bradley 6:06, Rob Yerger 6:13, Kenneth Johns 6:22, Eric Johns 6:22, Sarah Soltau 6:23, Eli Stewart 6:25, Kevin Frontz 6:35, Brooke Ebener 6:37, Matthew Quinton 6:49, Andy Richards 6:56 (at age 73!) , Tim Burke 7:43, Sheila Bolin 7:43.

And we can’t forget the most hallowed of HTR Mitchell traditions, the Dead Leg Lake Tomahawk relay. Done at night, and perhaps after a few adult beverages, teams of 5 challengers/marathoners circle the half mile Lake Tomahawk in an all out sprint for glory. Sadly my team of Soleil, Barefoot John, Randy Smith, Ebener and myself pulled off a next to last, with perhaps an illegal Blue shoe stiff arm of a sprinting Nikki in a desperate attempt to save pride. I’m not sure who won, though a shirtless, highly enthusiastic Michael Nance in the 30 degree night may have been the highlight.

Big kudos to race director Jay Curwen and all the amazing volunteers  and sponsors for putting on a truly great event. I’ve never been so appreciative to the aid station crews who braved hours of miserable weather to keep us all alive and healthy out there. Another major shout out to Rick Stroud and all the HTR’s who showed this road racing ultra noob the kindest hospitality in a great weekend!











Cold Winter’s Day 5k – Forest Acres, SC -12/29/18


A little over ten years ago, I suffered through another Carolina loss to Clemson, and in my post game rage, I set out on a rainy run. I had briefly gotten into running in 2007 when I was living in Charleston, ran three races, got hooked, then promptly trained myself into getting nasty shin splits that completely sidelined me. It had been a few months since I had tried to give it another go that day in November 2008, but I came back after 3 or 4 miles (no Garmin then) and found I actually didn’t have pain. As soon as I was done, I went online and launched a fateful google search to pull up “Columbia Running Club” and “Strictly Running”. I saw they had a race I could train for in about a month. That race was Cold Winter’s Day. I was in.

2008 Columbia Running Club page


Somehow I managed to not get injured in that month. It probably helped I went down to the old SR store and got an actual pair of running shoes. Big, boat-like stability trainers, but they weren’t going to give me shin splints. I showed up to CWD 2008 not knowing the course, not knowing a soul at the race, and no idea of what I could do. I had managed 25 and change at the 2007 Reindeer Run, so naturally I thought, with a year of barely running and being injured, I’d try for a sub 23. The grandiose ego existed even in those days. So, like the noob I was, I went out way too fast and started dying. But then I saw the yellow arrow sign at the end of a long straightaway, which I was sure was the finish. I blasted away with some primordial version of the Blue Shoes kick, crossed a bridge, and realized this was an apartment complex not the finish. Oh @#$!  I death slogged the rest of the race, which was a good half mile, did another really ugly headless chicken sprint, and crashed through the finish at 23:59. I about died, and way off my goal, but the euphoria was palpable and my racing addiction was renewed. Signed up for the 2009 Red Nose 5k when I got home. And the rest is history.

Ten years and probably 350ish races later, I always come back to Cold Winter’s Day. Except this year, my body really didn’t want me to. I took several days off in early December thinking I was going to crush Kiawah. Shat the bed in that race when a well rested but tight as hell hamstring decided it didn’t want to do 6:40ish pace.  Took it easy since then. I was still running daily, but nothing that was going to make the hammy mad. Just when things felt good again, one of my disease vectors, I mean children, gave me a wicked head cold that basically destroyed my Christmas week.  Snotapalooza, headaches, coughs, insomnia due to all of the above. Good times. So I wake up on CWD morning with the idea I wasn’t going to race, just watch. All the TDC points were secured, snot still flowing, only a few hours of sleep the night before. Done deal. Still, I night as well put on running clothes to get a few miles in before watching the race.

When I got there, I thought about my bib. For some reason I felt compelled to pick it up. Maybe I’ll jog the course like I did when I was sick in 2014. Sounds good. Did a couple of miles warmup with Geary, Silent H and Jen Jik. There were some serious Tour de Columbia maneuvering at stake with the double points for this uber competitive race.

As such, everyone and their mom was out for this one.  Deogracias was on hand to throw down with the big boys. There were quite a few elite looking types that were probably going sub 16, including last year’s winner, Theo Kahler. Shawanna and Jen were clearly the tops in the women’s field, as none of the SR ladies were racing. Joyce brought out her whole tribe of Team Utopia Youth with 9 year old state record holder Kendra Miles. I can vouch there are plenty of strong adult male runners that fear getting a beat down by a 70 pound 4th grader.  THE CODE is making a rare 2018 race appearance. The entire CRC royal family, the Weavers (now Weavers and Loughlins) , were on hand. The CRC veteran hardcore group of Henry Holt, Pete Poore, Leeds Barroll, Peter Mugglestone, and Rocky Soderberg were there. There was talk of some hellacious Tybee training morning workout devised by Coleen Strasburger, fittingly wearing bib 666. I think they did the Starbucks’ early bus, regular bus, something in between, the 5k race,  then something post race.  Evil, indeed. Other familiar faces included the Fadels, Naomi Rabon, Jenny Prather,  David Nance, Dave Hale with canine sidekick Angus McCloud, Fiona Martin and her husband Lance Schultz, Hou-Yin Chang, Ivery Baldwin, Alsena Edwards, Brie McGrievy, Greta Dobe, Missy Caughman, Shirley Smith, Ron Hagell, Kat Hudgins, Lynn Grimes, Kerry Stubbs, Will Rowan, Lucy and Pheobe Fischer, Sharon Sherbourne, Jennifer Reeves, Matt Gregory, Greg Fowler, Robert Taylor and Amanda Wardlaw.  Andrew Touzel was making a comeback. Eric Allers was on hand to make sure the epic CWD blue shoeing of 2017 did not happen again, along with wife Sarah.  Strictly had Drew Williams, Geary, Derek Hutton, Colby Coulter, David He, Justin Jones, and Steve Rivard. TUS had coach Justin Bishop, Jen, Julia Norcia, Joseph Kiprotich, Sheila Bolin (paced by Mike Nance), Mike Compton, Jim WIlliams, Ronda Sanders. Without Limits had coach Trey McCain and Eric Gilfus.


So yeah, trophy hunt this was not. After my warmup, I decide the hammy seems to have loosened up some, and after a thoroughly disgusting desnotting, I figure I can at least jump into the race. Maybe even tempo it. We would see. Weather was ridiculously warm, in the 60’s. Fittingly for my 10th raceversary, CWD had gone back to their original pre-flood course. The famously NOT flat and fast course advertised by Selwyn. Cool.

Liz Locke started us off and I’m immediately swarmed by people hauling ass up the initial hill on Trenholm. I decide to ride Eric for a moment just to keep him guessing. He then left me in the dust pretty quickly. Doing my first semi fast run since Kiawah, my hammy is quietly complaining some and my lungs are wondering why the hell we are breathing hard after hacking all week. Being in a competitive race with a bib on,  the adrenaline kicks in and I feel like I have to at least do something respectable. I figure around 21 minutes would be acceptable to the giant ego.  After the initial Trenholm hill is a long decline on Spring Lake, another bump up, and then another extended downhill along Forest Lake golf course.  I manage to edge past micro beast Miles to temporarily avoid getting elementary schooled, and I hit the mile mark at 6:31. I can still see Code and Jik up ahead but I don’t recognize anyone else in the vicinity. I figure Silent H must be just behind me, relishing a chance to take down melon head boy. I cruise down to the flat area with 2 bridges and I know there’s that monster hill at the halfway point. Crossing the bridge I feel my hamstring has given up and stopped being tight. With the hill, all that Downtown Y weight work actually starts kicking in and I pass about 10 people on the incline. This only serves to stoke the internal inferno of race adrenaline and grandiosity, and by the top of the hill I realize I’m apparently going to race the rest of this hard.


I’m kind of gassed flopping down the hill on the other side, but mile 2 surprisingly comes back in 6:17.  I realize I still have a chance to break twenty minutes, the old benchmark, the one I epically failed to attain at the 2010 version of this race. And what unfolds next is that long straightaway to the apartments with the faux finish from 2009. And what’s better? Targets. And number one has a singlet with CODE on the back. Code’s keto diet apparently causes him to crash at the end of races, and he was definitely fading some. Fortunately, my beer and carbs diet leaves me plenty of “fuel”. As we near the apartments I manage to pass him, both pasty old men unable to speak for all the wind suckage. That’s good since I was afraid he would release the race demon from this year’s 811 run (i.e. YOU BETTER F%#*)&G RUN!!). Selwyn always talks about the downhill finish to the CWD course, but he fails to mention the roller coaster of hills to get to the top of said downhill. I’m suffering pretty bad at this point, but I see Jik up ahead with her head up, so there’s blood in the water. What started out as a tempo now gets launched into a 1000 percent effort. About a quarter mile from the finish, I manage to pass Jen and go into my typical maniacal kick mode. I can hear footsteps behind me which ramps it up even more, running scared from the ghost of Jen Jik behind me. I can see the clock still in the 19’s at the top of the finishing hill and its full steam ahead on the pain train. Mile 3 in 6:11. I crash through the finish in 19:40 and I don’t think I’ve felt so destroyed by a race in years. But hey, with Drew getting masters, and Nance pacing Sheila, Angel MIA, and Code ketoing out, I manage to pull off an age group win, AND A TROPHY. All is well again.

In the overall, this was a total beastfest. First place went to Gabe Haughey  in 15:11, followed by Theo Kahler , Johnathan McGinnis, Alan Deogracias and Colby Coulter all under 16:30.  Shawanna easily took the women’s win in 18:16, with Jen notching a sub 20 for second and Hannah Beach, Kendra Miles and Faith Boyer rounding out the top 5. Masters winners were Drew Williams, Adam Ward and Eric Allers on the men’s side with Sarah Allers, Julia Norcia and Naomi Rabon on the podium for the women. Grandmasters winners were Greg Fowler and Alsena Edwards, while Senior Masters (60+) went to George Sykes and Lynn Grimes.

Age group honor roll:  Lucy and Pheobe Fischer finished 1st and 3rd in the 15-19. Jessica Weaver was 2nd in the 20-24 while  Kyle Norcia won among the men. Steve Rivard, Gage Hicks and Derek Hutton took a very competitive 25-29. Justin Jones and David He were tops in the 30-34.  Justin Bishop took the 35-39 men, while Fiona Martin and Ronda Sanders were 1st and 3rd among the women.  Amanda Wardlaw and Brie McGrievy were 2nd and 3rd  in the 40-44 women while Code took 2nd among the men. Ricky De Shaw won the 45-49 men, with Johnathan Kirkwood 2nd. Gretchen Lambert was 2nd among the women. Sherry Fadel, Greta Dobe and Sue Weaver claimed the 50-54 podium while SILENT H easily won on the men’s side. Colleen “Satan” Strasburger and Sandy Smith went 1-2 in the women’s 55-59, Robert Taylor was 2nd among the men. Geary McAlister was champ of the 60-64. Mike Compton and Leeds Barroll were 1st and 3rd in the 65-69 men, with Sharon Sherbourne 3rd on the women’s side.  Peter Mugglestone and Ron Hagell  took 2nd and 3rd in the 70-74 men, while Henry Holt stood alone as the 75+ champ at age 83!





Sleigh Bell Trot 4 Miler – Saluda Shoals Park -Columbia, SC – 11/20/18


The Sleigh Bell Trot has been a staple of the Tour de Columbia and the Blue Shoes road racing schedule since at least 2009. I believe the organizers said it is in its 13th year in 2018. It’s held at night to spotlight Saluda Shoals’ Holiday lights at Christmas, which opens the week of Thanksgiving every year. The race was previously a 5k, and known for being a little chaotic as the event pushed to well over 500 participants in a small area. Organizers cleared out much of the congestion several years ago as they went to two different nights for the walk (Monday) and the race (Tuesday). With the opening of the new entrance and sports fields near St Andrews Rd, the race morphed from a 5k to a 4 miler, which works out nicely to tour most of the light displays.

But who has known me to be focused on light displays? Racing is about WINNING and TROPHIES, right?? So this is not usually a good trophy hunt. It’s at a weird time (Tuesday night), and in between Hairy Bison/Shandon Turkey Trot and the Turkey Day 5k, but it brings out several hundred people. Sure, there’s a large festive holiday walk/jog contingent, but there’s always a bunch of pesky local cross country teens that come out to beat the old men down. Those meddling kids.
This year, I had a free registration for this race that I won by placing 3rd at Go Leo Go, so I had no excuse to be lazy and skip. Late afternoon at work there’s always an internal struggle of going home to crash on the couch with a beer versus pushing myself to physiologic depletion for 4 miles. But my chronic FOMO anxiety, and more specifically, Fear of Missing Out on TDC points and trophies , kicked in and I decided to make my way out to Irmo.
As for the Irmese, I am a native and a loyal Yellow Jacket (Irmo High class of 1993), but damn you guys have it rough for rush hour traffic. Apparently, I-26 becomes a parking lot every day at 4:30 pm. Since my tolerance for traffic jams is extremely poor, I made sure to leave super early and avoid at least some of the nightmare. My geriatric 2005 Honda pilot is in its death throes so I had to say a little prayer every time we had to idle on the highway.
I made it to the race just after 5 pm, giving me a full 2 hours to kill. This actually works out well so I can relax and jog through the lights as a warm up. You know, like actually getting to look at the displays instead of hunting down 40 year old men at 6 minute pace and breathing like an injured wildebeest.

Getting back to the start, there’s a huge crowd on hand – almost 600 total. I see a few cross country teens and Ryan Plexico , so definitely no overall trophies today. Mike Nance showed up later, making even my masters hopes pretty dim. The CRC hardcore contingent were on hand, including Rocky Soderberg, Leeds Barroll, Henry Holt, and Pete Poore. Current race participation and grandmasters leader Dave Hale was back for more after trophy hunting at CIU on Saturday. Melinda and Reese Petruzzi , Gretchen Lambert, Michael Lambert, Will Rowan were some other CRCers on hand. Difficult to see everybody in the dark.


With the huge crowd, I made sure to move up just behind Plexico in the second row. They kept telling the slower runners to move back but a bunch of little kids were still near the front. I’ve almost flattened kids in the start of this race so I wasn’t having that again. My plan in this race was basically to run it like a 5k, since I had no idea what “4 mile pace” is. Plus, per last years race, I knew the course to be a tad short. I had suggested they move back the start/finish like 5 hundredths of a mile last year, but like my wife says, no one (including her) listens to me.

The start, as always, was nuts. Downhill for the first quarter mile in a mad dash with a bunch of kids. By the first turn, the field had already thinned out. This was a big field but definitely light on the top end. I settle into what feels like a pretty brisk pace, but its impossible to tell in the dark. There’s a winding but flat stretch after the first turn until you hit the 12 days of Christmas display mountain, which is the main incline of the whole course. I’m a decent climber despite my Sasquatch physique so I drop a few kids on the hill.  Next is a plunge down the other side and past the armed forces display and the combined mile 1/mile 3 marker. 6:11. Whoopsie. Looks like that afternoon coffee from the Baptist hospital lounge has kicked in. Mile 2 is a climb past the dog park and into the beginning of the lollipop at the end of this out and back course.  I move past who I think is the first girl and latch on to the Team Utopia shirt of Mike Nance just ahead. I manage to stay with him through most of mile 2 , figuring he must still be tired from Marine Corps. Nope. Mile 2 comes back in another 6:11 and I’m on close to suicidal pace.

Mile 3 is a tough climb passing the shed from the old race packet pickup and the backroad to Cornerstone church. Not entirely sure, but I think I got passed by one of the Golbus twins in this mile. I’m scared I’m getting ready for an epic bonk, but rounding the turn at the Bush River Rd. entrance and getting back on the road to the finish is a psychological boost. Nance is still just ahead, running with a tall kid and Golbus. Mile 3 in 6:21 and I’m sucking some serious wind. But I can feel the finish and ramp up the pace as I climb the back side of 12 days of Christmas. Form is starting to go hell but Nance is right there and maybe, just maybe, I can catch him. At the bottom of the hill I basically push in all the chips. I catch the kid who fell off the back of the three person pack ahead, but damned if Nance and Golbus haven’t started crushing it too. I redline it all the way down the flat and I’m in full headless chicken mode in the home stretch up a slight incline. But its just not happening – those two are too strong.  Suddenly I look up and realize the clock has just crossed over 24.  Holy crap. I haven’t even broken 26 in a 4 miler. I crash through the finish in a mess of sweat and gasping desperation in 24:20. I’ve been trying not to flop like a fish at the finish but I had to briefly make sweet love to the pavement after that effort.  I quickly realize the course, by my Garmin, is 3.90 miles. Still, this is a minute faster than last years time on the same course and a 6:14/19:19 5k pace for almost 4 miles. Good enough for 8th place overall and 2nd in age group behind Mike. Pretty psyched about the effort, hoping I can ride that speed to the Kiawah half in 2 weeks.

In the overall, SR’s Colby Coulter took the win in 21:19, followed by Hayden Tuten in 22:11 and Ryan Plexico in 21:29. The women’s race was won by Ashley Golbus in 24:!1, followed by 12 year old Laela Caplinger and 11 year old Laurel Walls.

Age group honor roll:  Ryan Welch won first in the 2-8 girls. Ashley Wardlaw won the 11-12 girls while Tyler Wardlaw  took 3rd among the boys. Brady Rafanan crushed the 20-24 for first in 23:57, while Alexa Golbus won among the women.  Ronda Sanders and Tricia Roland went 1-2 in the 35-39 women. In the 40-44 men, Nance took the win while some Alex MCDONALDS was 2nd. That’s what happens when you sign up last second. Amanda Wardlaw was 3rd among the women. Gretchen Lambert was 2nd in the 45-49. Winston Holliday took 2nd in the 50-54, while wife Kimberly won the 50-54 women. Dave Hale took 3rd in the 55-59.  Leeds Barroll and Pete Poore went 1-2 in the 65-69. The over 70 group was swept by Henry Holt, Rocky Soderberg and Michael Lambert.


Famously Hot Pink 5k/10k/Half – Spirit Communications Park – Columbia, SC – 10/13/18

The Famously Hot Pink Half Marathon/10k/5k is an event that has grown exponentially over the past decade. It has always been associated with the Walk for Life, a huge breast cancer awareness walk that attracts thousands of participants. Several years ago they decided to add a 5k race “The Race for Life”, then added a 10k. Two years ago they moved the whole thing from Finlay Park to the new Fireflies ballpark (Spirit Communications Park) and rebranded it its current somewhat awkward name.
While it has become a huge event, it also pops up on the Blue Shoes radar as a surprise trophy hunt. My advanced racing analysis has led me to believe that all the elites target the Ray Tanner 12k as their goal, which is next week. And most normal people don’t want to run a hilly half 7 days before a major race. Ah, but who needs normal?
I’ve run the half here twice, and finished fourth and third OVERALL. With times that are pretty lousy for me, because miles 10-12 are a damn mountain range. If a sasquatch like me can make the podium in a half with several hundred people, clearly the fast guys stayed home. But hey, Palmetto Health, my employer, saw my 3rd place finish last year and featured me on their facebook page The giant ego and cranium grew a few more sizes that day.

With the aura of glory still lingering from last year, I was tempted to try my luck at the half again. Unfortunately the legs had a meeting with the grandiose brain and they decided HELLS NO. Between the seven hour Table Rock 50k and the True to the Brew trail half in consecutive weeks, my lower extremities have been pretty useless the last 14 days. Slogged out a bunch of 5-6 milers at 9ish pace since TTB, nothing long and definitely nothing fast. So hey, let’s jump back into a road 5k! While I pride myself on sound decision making in the rest of my life, road racing makes me act like an impulsive 3 year old.
So I went to the race with a certain amount of anxiety, afraid I would make a fool of myself with an embarrassingly slow time, since my road 5k training has been zilch since August. Because everyone cares so much about my 5k performance. Right.

I got to the park pretty early since the half starts at 7:15 and I didn’t want to be driving around when the race started (7:40 start for 5k) . They had packet pickup at the race starting line, which is like a half mile from the parking lot, so I ended up getting plenty of warmup just going to and from my car. As I had expected, a big crowd but heavy on the race-shirt-on-race-day T-shirt contingent and very few competitive types. I saw Jen Lybrand at the half start and wondered if she might win the race outright, since I didn’t recognize anyone in the first few rows. Rich, Sue and Jessie Weaver were there to represent the CRC royals. Renee and Patrick McCormick, Chris Fawver, Naomi Rabon, Eric Gilfus, Jim and Sandra Manning, Pam Nadolski, Kerry Stubbs, Donna Freeman, Alsena Edwards, Jenny Prather and Michael Lambert were also on hand. Ron Hagell, Kelly Ghent and Janette Robinson were doing bike marshall duty. Drew Williams was pacing the 1:45 group again. The 10k start was at 7:30 and another field light on the top end. Barring some completely covert elite out there, Justin Bishop would win this in a cake walk. Sara Bonner looked to take the women’s win as well. The McGrievys and Reese and Melinda Petruzzi were sporting their CRC gear, with the first hoodie sightings of fall 2018. Peter Mugglestone, Lynn Grimes, Gretchen Lambert, Lois Leaburn, Teresa Harrington, Sheila Bolin, Ken and Patti Lowden and Joe Robinson were the familiar faces. Oh, and Ashley Horton was making a rare appearance with a ghost pacer from races past, better known as Tyler “Lady McGaha” “Trophy” “Blackjack” McGaha. He still exists.

After standing around forever and desperately trying to loosen up my crap right hamstring and piriformis, I finally got the chance to toe the line. I saw one fastish looking dude and my fellow consult liaison psychiatrist nemesis Jeff “Lucifer” Brandenburg. Like David Lee Roth it looked like I’d be Running with the Devil again. Daniel Patrick and Travis Moran were making racing comebacks as well near the start. Leeds Barroll, Alex Ponomarev, Pete O’Boyle, Barbara Brandenburg, Bionic Man Dave Hale, Shenequa Coles, Colleen Vowles, Tug Quarles, Rocky Soderberg, Sabine and Quentin Mcgrievy, and Sandra Manning were on board. My coworker at Baptist , Juliet Glover, and her husband Darius, were also representing the USC-Palmetto psych team.

The gun goes off and I’m instantly reminded of how much 5k pace sucks when you haven’t been doing any speed. Legs are still cinder blockish and the right hammy is pretty angry at being abused like this. Still, with the lack of elites, I’m actually running near the front, with the pace car in sight. Starting with a quarter mile of flat, you take a right turn up a nasty little incline, then a long flattish stretch on Harden St extension in front of the Tucker Center. The small, fast looking dude has taken it out fast but Travis, Daniel and JB are clustered a few meters ahead of me. I’m thinking I’m doing about 6:10-6:15 pace based on my effort and position in the race but the mile mark comes through in 6:30. Damn you, hamstring and slack Brandenburg. I try to pull an Emeril and kick it up a notch. At about a mile and a quarter you turn right on Calhoun. I catch up to Ken Lowden who informs me there’s ONE BIG HILL and it’s just ahead. I figured he probably designed the course so I’m sure he’s right. The man did not lie. Left on Gregg and up a long fairly steep incline we go. Although I hate hills, and you’d think my “less than petite” physique would be like a semi trying to haul upgrade. Paradoxically though, my freakish quads and daily hill training kick in on the mountain, and the incline helps stretch out the gimp hamstring. Furthermore, I’m catching up to JB and Daniel quickly and with a surge of adrenaline I pass them both.
Of course, now I realize there’s no turning back and I’ve just pushed in all the chips with half the race to go. Hitting the top of the hill I recognize the course from the Bunny Hop 5k and I try to channel the magical energy of the seven foot bunny costume. It seems to work, plus catching more 10kers make me feel like I’m flying. Mile 2, even with the monster hill, is a touch faster in 6:27. It’s going to be close to make this a sub 20. Fortunately, the course has leveled out and as we break away from the 10k route, we suddenly plunge down the side of the mountain we just climbed. Another paradox is that, despite my distinct “gravitational advantage”, I suck at downhills. I am deathly afraid of Brandenburg passing me on the decline as I flop down the hill, wrecking my quads in the process. With the turn back onto Gregg st , I know we have just a short way to go to the stadium finish. I’ve managed to rein in Travis a bit and he’s painfully close. I can even see the leader up ahead with the pace car. I start throwing down, thinking I might be able to catch Travis on the little blip of a hill leading into the stadium. Unfortunately, I’ve probably made my presence known, as 190 lbs of flailing sasquatch does not tread lightly. As we enter the stadium, Travis kicks it in and I can’t respond. I hear the watch go off a little earlier than I had expected, which probably means (with the certified course) I’ve navigated a little sloppily through those 10kers. I can make out the clock as I enter the stadium and see 19:30’s. It seems to take forever to make it to the line, but I manage to sprint it out to get a 19:49 chip/19:50 gun time. Good enough for 3rd overall, 5 seconds behind Travis and 32 behind the winner, 15 year old French Joseph (19;17). Definitely not one of my faster times but not too bad considering all the distance in the past month and lack of speedwork. Any Brandenburg beatdown is always a plus as well.

Half marathon: Annie Noffsinger was not only the women’s winner but the first runner to cross the finish line. She possesses the anti-Blue Shoes trait of looking perfect and effortless in running a 1:28:12. Jen Lybrand was 2nd female and third person to cross the line in 1:37. Third place was Denise Knight in 1:42. These ladies definitely put the guys to shame. Men’s winner was Derek Boucher in 1:33, followed by John Mouzakis and Andrew “Co”. I assume the name got cut off. Drew rode his 1:45 pacer duties to second masters. Naomi Rabon won female masters with Alsena Edwards 3rd . Triathlete Bill Wiseman won 2nd male grandmasters , while Renee McCormick and Donna Freeman won 2nd and 3rd female grandmasters. Age groupers: Pam Nadolski was 3rd in the 40-44 as a pacer. Chris Fawver crushed a PR (1:48:08) on this tough course en route to a 3rd in the 40-44 men. Pam Rodriguez was 1st in the 45-49. Queen Sue Weaver was 2nd in the 50-54. Jim Manning and Patrick McCormick were 2-3 in the 60-64. King Rich Weaver and Michael Lambert were 1st and 3rd in the 70+.
10k: As expected, Justin Bishop smoked the competition in 35:49. Steven Hicks and Neil Waldrop were a distant 2nd and 3rd. Among the women, Kelli Rembert and Barbara Turner were surprise winners with Kelli getting the lean at the tape for the win. Sara Bonner was 3rd , only 20 seconds behind.
TDC pointsmaster Matt Mcgrievy got 2nd masters, Jim Williams 3rd grandmasters. Lynn grimes, Teresa Harrington and Lois Leaburn swept the female grandmasters. Age groupers: reese Petruzzi won the 15-19. Brie McGrievy won the 40-44. Gretchen Lambert was champion of the 45-49. Joe Robinson took the 55-59. Pete Poore and Patti Lowden were 65-69 winners, while Peter Mugglestone and Ken Lowden won the 70+.
5k : Barbara Brandenburg was 3rd female overall. Brandenburg, Bill Bender and Pete O’Boyle took male masters. Chantal faure and Colleen Vowles were top 2 female masters. Sabine McGrievy was 2nd in the 2-10. Daniel Patrick won the 25-29. Juliet Glover won the 35-39, with Kathryn Livingston 2nd. Shenequa Coles won the 45-49. Tug Quarles and Dave Hale were 1st and 3rd in the 55-59, both coming back from injury.Bob Petruzzi was 2nd in the 60-64, while Sandra Manning was 3rd among the women. Alex Ponomarev and Leeds Barroll were top 2 in the 65-59. Henry Holt and Rocky Soderberg were top 2 in the 75+.