The first half was a blur.  One of the benefits of a 5:30 a.m. start is you are half asleep.  Being on the bus at 3:45 a.m. meant waking at 3:00 a.m. The main thing about the first half I remember is running under the stress of making it to the aid stations in time.  I was doing pretty well until the climb up the mountain to aid station ten.  The last climb on this stretch I was privileged to be walking beside a lady named Sally (I think), who had run the race many times before, but this year was struggling through an injury and was wearing a very large knee brace.   She was most pleasant, and told me she was probably going to stop at the half way point and encouraged me to start running so I would make it to the aid station in time.  One of the many benefits of running ultra marathons is the many times of walking up mountains, and the great conversations and friendships that are forged during those times.  When I ask for advice on running this and other races, the main one is “walk the hills”, and it is the walking of the hills that I have met some incredible people. 

Making it to the aid station after the half way mark was going be a time challenge, as it would be for the rest of the day.  Briefly I was walking beside another lady, who was complaining that the miles were much longer and many more than listed, and was dripping with negativity towards the race director.  I didn’t listen to the advice to walk this hill, and started running to avoid any more negatives.  I had heard about the theme song for “Rocky” being played at the upcoming aid station, and I was very, very thankful for the inspiration is provided.  Together with the scriptures written on signs, the song helped pull me up to the station within the time limit.  The next big memory is some hot tomato soup prior to the loop.  Fortunately I had read previous race reports and realized that this was not a short loop, and probably two miles longer than posted.  It became a wilderness experience for me.  Deep into the loop, my energy plummeted, and I could barely walk up the inclines.  The deepness of the forest, the solitude, the loss of energy all contributed to a deep prayer time.  My suffering opened me up to a good spiritual connection.  Once reaching the top of the ridge, I prayed a simple prayer, “Lord, I would like to run one of these things cancer free.  I would like to know what it feels like to run without cancer.”(Three years ago, I was diagnosed with stage four lymphoma)(Another story).  It was all down hill from that point and seeing I had only a short time to make it back, I realized I was infused with strength and was able to race down the mountain and make it within minutes of the cutoff time.  This scenario kept repeating itself, as I thought that my race would be done at each aid station.  I had carried the cutoff times in a zip lock bag that I kept referring to.  I knew that from the pre race meeting that I had to make it to a particular aid station by 3:45 p.m. or I would be pulled.  On this long “walk the hills” trek, a 16 yr. veteran of the run led me and another girl on up the hill.  He turned and told us, that if we don’t make it in just a few minutes our race was over.  As we made it to the top, a woman had come out from the aid station and yelled, “you have one minute, you can do it!”  I had pretty well given up, but her encouragement really inspired me.  We were all sucking air, and I was the last in the pack, to make it.  After leaving the aid station, I hear a pleasant voice behind me saying.  “Hi, I am Annette.  I am the sweeper. What’s your name?”  I knew what that meant.  I was the last person allowed to finish.  Unfortunately my uphill climbing muscles were done, and I could barely get up the mountain.  Another name for Annette the sweeper should have been Annette the angel who pushed/encouraged me on up.  She kept saying, “now, we need to get moving”, or “ try to start running” all in a very positive way.  For me she was the perfect sweeper.  She was a gifted athlete and a more gifted conversationalist who kept me moving.  At last we made it to the top, and my downhill muscles had something left, and fortunately for me, and unfortunately for the girl in the three pack who had barely made it through the last checkpoint was not doing well.  I was able to pass her, and the bad news is, I lost my sweeper angel who had to stay with the last runner. 

The next stretch I kept seeing blood drops.  I knew that it was the opening day for muzzleloader season, and though I didn’t hear many shots, I noticed what I thought was a blood trail from a wounded deer.  Large drops of blood made me keep looking around to see if I could see the dead deer or the hunter.  I passed the last aid station who said that if I hurried, I could make it.  He said it was only three miles.  Wrong!  (But I wouldn’t allow negativity, as I needed to stay positive). What seemed like ten miles I finally made it to the road.  Fortunately I had a small light.  On the road I got a bit disoriented, but there were some people that assured me I was going the right way.  After dodging some cars, I shuffled over the finish line to the Horton Hug.  No, I didn’t make it under twelve hours, but I made it.  Inside the bus I commented to someone about the blood trail from the wounded deer.  Someone rose up from his slumber and said, “no, that was from a runner.  She got her calf punctured by a stick.”  That night she won the most blood award.  I don’t know her, and didn’t get to meet her, but she has my attention and respect.  Anyone that lost that much blood and was able to finish the race is one great athlete.  After the well planned, well staffed, great everything race, the post race meal and awards ceremony went over the top.  Imagine having so many things to give away, and so many awards that some people were saying, enough already, lets go home.  The awards were plentiful, the acknowledgements and gifts were bountiful and the camaraderie was fabulous.  Great race Dr. Horton and all the great staff and volunteers, my thanks and appreciation.

Craig Burns