WARNING: This entry involves people running long distances, heat, and missing course markings.
There will be curse words.
You have been warned.
fuck, it's hot.
i can't believe how hot it is.
why is it so hot?
this is messed up.
I was told that it doesn't get hot until late afternoon here.
California pisses me off.
This place sucks.
So then, it was showers and eating and time to crew. We headed out to Rattlesnake Bar (what IS the deal with all the 'bar's in Cali anyway? I didn't see a single cocktail) which is at mile 55ish.
Then we waited....and waited....and waited. It got dark. Finally, someone came into the aid station calling my name.
RBR ran to get a sleeping bag for his shoulders and a chair, and unbeknownst to me, she was running on ball-of-her-feet UGLAY blisters. Baboo ate his Subway. He drank down 4 cups of gingerale. I forced some SportLegs into him, and some Tylenol.
"No, don't be silly," I said. "It was three weeks ago."
"About two months," he said seriously. Not long after that, he headed out back out onto the trail, and I followed him. RBR took the car around to the next aid station.
Soon after, Baboo blew through the aid station at Negro Bar. 6 miles to go. He was running an 8 or 9 minute mile, there at mile 90, hauling ass. RBR was agog. He had risen from the dead. It was a strange sight, not unlike seeing some strange animal running through the city. He sprinted past several people who were barely walking.
We arrived went out with JT to the Old Spaghetti Warehouse. Then we headed to the airport, and arrived back at our house at just prior to 10:00 pm last night. I can't remember sleeping so hard.
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