Think back to when you were a kid. Think about pedaling your bike as fast as you could pedal or running through the grass as hard as you could run. Think about how you pushed yourself to the limit, heart pounding, chest heaving, for no real reason, just because you felt like blasting it out. Think about when you felt free in your body, before you knew about injuries or training plans or being conservative in the early miles. That is how I felt going into my 3rd Dipsea race - ignorant to danger and prepared to go all out. From the sound of the whistle signaling the start for my group, which is about to join the 43 other groups that had already started the race, I didn't hold anything back. The spirit of the Dipsea is to never let off the gas and floor it as often as possible. Through downtown and then into the shade of Old Mill Park, we race toward the three flights of six hundred and seventy something stairs that make up the first half mile. As our group begins to catch up to
There are things I was expecting to have to deal with during my first 100k race (blisters, pain, high highs and really low lows), and then there are things you just can't foresee (pack strap breaking 20 minutes in, starting my period at mile 44, getting Mmm Bop stuck in my head). Oh, and the RD saying something about how the day before a mountain lion had chased a guy on a bike. The 62 miles in front of me were brand new and completely unknown. I carried this with me with projected times of arrival so I didn't have to do any math. I kept my watch showing only the time because I didn't want to think about mileage. It was a no math/no mileage strategy. I warmed up in the first twelve miles enjoying the distraction of the dark and following the line of runners in front of me. The course took us on a few brief little loops and out and backs up and down hills, inside a mine, and around a cemetery surrounded by a white picket fence. Inside the mine, we had to ru