...and the winner is:  "Female Exiting Prostitution Worker".  I don't even know where to begin, folks.  I do know I wouldn't want that job title on my business card.  In other job-hunt related news, my father-in-law saw fit today to lecture me about my job-hunting skills.  Have I thought about looking at working for government departments?  No, that major career-path escaped me, despite the fact

3D designs and prototype-ready models for a toy series.

More at Sevensheaven.nl

Recently my diary has been markedly empty. To the point I have had a series of days go by where I didn't open it because I knew there was nothing in it.
And now, all of a sudden through a confluence (can I just say how much I LOVE that word?) of events, it's scarily full.
Scary because I'm trying to figure out how on earth I'm going to manage.
On the same morning I had two important calls. One offering me semi-regular, highly flexible work, the other offering me a place at University to start a Masters Degree in Theology.
Of course I accepted both offers and spent the rest of the day euphoric.
And now I have a sick, churning feeling in the pit of my stomach.
How the hell am I going to do this?
The degree will be done part time and they have said I can do it externally. But truly and really, I have to be so disciplined and now I'm here, I'm scared. I've made the conscious decision not to look at it as a degree. instead I'm just going to say: "Yeah I'm just doing a couple of units at Uni" (insert bravado tone here) That way, it's not so overwhelming.
The work thing requires military precision planning. This isn't helped by the fact I have literally no family back-up. Ironic I have two sets of retired grandparents and both sets are so busy they can't help out with their grandchildren at all. So I'm trying to book sitters well in advance and hoping that goes ok. DH has to travel a fair bit over the next couple of months so I can't ask him either.
It would be fair to say at this point that I could simply have said: "No." And you would be right. But saying "No" just doesn't feel right to me.
And finally, I am working on planning the wedding and with my brother on a very special project which I will share more with you soon.
Throw in the running training and ahem, three small, adorably demanding offspring and a husband and my metaphorical plate is full.
So I could have a small but significant flip-out at this point, or take up drinking copious quantities of wine.
But I won't.
I'll just keep doing my best. Because in a few months time the diary will be emptier again and then I'll be complaining about having nothing to do.
ps what's on your plate at the moment? Seriously, I'm interested.

Cross posted at Ecojustice.

Today Ecojustice released Flushing Out the Truth, a report highlighting the tens of billions of litres of untreated sewage that are knowingly allowed to flow into the Great Lakes each year because of the province's inadequate sewage system.

Much of the untreated waste made its way into water bodies through sewage bypasses -- diversions which carry excess sewage to lakes or rivers when treatment plants are over capacity or have technical problems.

Added to that are combined sewage overflows, which occur in older systems where stormwater and sewage from sinks, toilets and drains gush along the same pipe. Bad weather can cause the pipes to overflow into a lake or river.

It’s the wastewater equivalent of fixing gridlock by letting cars drive on sidewalks.

Rather than allowing sewage to overflow and be diverted before proper treatment, Ecojustice has been calling on government’s to ensure systems can handle the capacity they need to – by mitigating combined sewage systems and investing in green infrastructure that reduces the amount of storm water entering the system in the first place.

The report also singled out Ontario's worst offenders. Niagara Falls topped the list with sewage releases totaling almost 7 billion litres in 2007 alone. Other cities with more than a billion litres of sewage released during 2006-7 include: Hamilton (5 billion); Windsor (4.3 billion); Welland (3.9); Toronto (2.7 billion); Sudbury/Greater Sudbury (2.6 billion); London (1.8 billion); and Leamington (1 billion).

Read the report here.

Mon 15th - 4 miles easy

Tues - 4 miles easy

Weds - Off

Thurs - Off

Friday & Sat - 102 miles (18,500 feet). Big Horn.

Sun - Off

Mon - Off

Tues - Off

Weds - 3 miles very easy. Legs still sore, hip felt arthritic but runnable (just).

Thurs - 4 miles easy. As above, but hip much better.

Fri - 6 miles (1,200 feet). First real attempt at a training run. Hip began hurting halfway through and intense midday heat made breathing hard. Felt way out of whack on this run. Discouraging.

Sat - 8 miles (1,650). 1:14. Legs felt much better, climbing felt good and aerobic effort felt almost normal. Still slight soreness in hip, but definitely no more than bruising. Really encouraging run. Beginning to feel like I can get a good week of training in next week as I ramp up for Leadville Marathon in two weeks.

Sun - 13 miles (2,200 feet). 2:00. Another good run and further confirmation that I'm ready to put a good load on through the next week and a half.

Total: 144 miles (23,500 vertical feet)

All systems seem to be go after some fairly major soreness in the three days after Bighorn. A few lingering sore spots in the legs that appear to be nothing more than bruising. Aerobic fitness feels good, so I plan on putting in a solid ten days of training before a mini taper for the Leadville Marathon, which I'm already getting excited about.

The field at Leadville will include Duncan Callahan, Bryan Dayton and Corey Hanson - all legit mountain runners - so I'm pretty excited to test my fitness and strength on the tough Leadville course against a competitive field.

I've been neglecting this blog again, as I've been busy, mostly stressing out over other things.

We had a summer camp at the arboretum this past week, and before that was all the preparation for the camp, and on top of that I had a bug slide-show that I had to prepare for. Then there were other personal things that distracted me, and not necessarily in a good way.

Here is something that distracted me in a good way for a few minutes last week. As I walked along the north edge of the arboretum's "lake" I saw a wriggling mass of what I thought for an instant were toad tadpoles.



The instant passed when I realized they had fins, not freshly sprouted amphibian legs.



Closer inspection confirmed they were baby catfish, right down to their little moustaches! By now, nearly a week later, they may have mostly been eaten up by the birds, turtles, etc.

Audio

Joe Bataan with Los Fulanos – Rap-O-Clap-O 2008 – Vampi Soul
Dirty Projectors – Stillness is the move – Domino
Flower Corsano Duo – The Drifters Miracles – VHF
Silkie & Harry Craze – Favela – Break the Habit
Mark Pritchard & Om’mas Keith – Wind it up – Hyperdub
Joker & Ginz – Purple city – Kapsize
Rick Tomlinson - Surfin’ UAE – Honest Jons
Tampa Red – Denver Blues – SPV
Abdul Hussein Khan Shahnazi - Homayoun – Honest Jons
Sylvester Weaver – I’m busy and you can’t come in – SPV
Sir Richard Bishop – Olive oasis – Honest Jons hjrlp
Medicine Head – His guiding hand – Cherry Red
Jorge Drexler – Al otro lado del rio - Deutsche Grammophon
Debashish Battacharya - O Shakuntala! – Riverboat Records
Antonie Dougbe & Orchestre Poly-Rhythmo - Analog Africa
Tinariwen - Tenhert - Independiente -
Reverend & The Makers - Silence is Talking - Wall of Sound
Bibio - Ambivalence Avenue / Fire Ant - Warp
Nashville / Liverpool Underground Medicine Show - Dexter
Mike Badger's Countryside - Waking in the City - Generator
Nashville / Liverpool Underground Medicine Show - I Gotta a Lover -
Captain Beefheart - Kandy Korn - Viper
Major the Line - Hold the Line - Domino
Wrangler - 1968 Moog Modular - Static Caravan

Initially when I formulated this health completely whacko plan I thought I'd post up the results at the end of it. But sweet, supportive readers, I thought instead you could share the joys and sorrows of my journey towards getting ready for the City to Surf. It will also make me hugely accountable. This will then be followed by final preparations for the wedding. (Not mine, I hasten to add. If you are new to my blog, click here to find out why this big day is so important)
The impetus for this was a) keeping my cholesterol in check b) being a good role model for my children and c) because my new engagement ring was becoming uncomfortably tight.
So never one to do things by halves, I went out and bought some new running clothes and DH invested in a digital weighing scales. Can I just say these scales are really very unkind? My old ones clearly lied to me ALOT. But I guess honesty is important if a relationship is going to work, and let me tell you, these scales are honest sadistic and plain mean
Thankfully, the beautiful Lauren has started a jog blog on her, um blog. So I grabbed her button and away I went. If you haven't "met" Lauren then you should. Her story is , well it's her story to tell, but she is amazing.
I also downloaded this deceptively cute programme on my i-phone called "ShapeUp". I thought it would make life easier. It helps makes you track every morsel you inhale and has an alarming way of telling you just how much you still need to lose. It's pretty bossy for an i-phone application!
So this week, I've tracked my food, I've walked (and begun to jog) for 40 minutes four times this week too.
I have been asked by DH to point out that this is a JOINT AFFAIR. He is also on this health kick with me. We check each other's ShapeUp application each night and compare notes on how much we have eaten and exercised. Romantic no?
And the end results? I lost 4 pounds! (Yes I know alot of it is fluid)
And so I can see the changes, here is a before shot from the start of the programme.
If you laugh, I'm going to be VERY cross with you......



ps if you have any easy and yummy and low fat lunch and or dinner recipes you use or sites you could direct me too, I'd be so grateful. Fish and salad, meat and salad, and omelette is getting a bit dull!

Cartoon for the Dutch Nu.nl news website, about the death of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett.

More at Sevensheaven.nl

Join me at Twitter [I mainly write in the Dutch language]

I planned a fuller update post regarding my recent absence and future plans, but the news of the day requires that I fast forward the plan a bit. I've been in transition for the past months, but I'm now in Toronto where I'll be in the Communications Director role at Ecojustice - Canada's leading environmental law non-profit - for the upcoming months.

Today was a major national media hit, as the federal government's disregard for the environment is finally getting the attention it deserves.

Earlier this year the Federal Government announced that 2,000 projects – including major works like bridges, highways and sewer systems – would be made exempt from environmental assessment. That number has now ballooned to 14,000, as the feds continue to be blind to the idea that the long-term health of our economy is linked to the health of our environment. The story received print coverage in the Globe and Mail and across the Canwest network.

Read my complete story at the Ecojustice Blog.

Over the coming months, we'll be revamping the entire online presence of Ecojustice, and I'll be posting there regularly in addition to returning to regular duty here at The Conscious Earth. Feel free to follow the work from the source as we take on Canada's polluters in the courts, or join our growing Twitter and Facebook communities. For those who are not familiar with our work, I encourage you to check it out. The results and impact of the organization was a major inspiration for beginning this blog, and over the coming months we'll be offering a range of new online content and ways to get involved.

More to come....

Some illustrations I made for Dokadi children's magazine, published by Averbode. End of this year. More from these series on Flickr.

illustrations for booklet in the famous serie ‘Vlaamse Filmpjes’(='Flemish short movies') for teenagers (11-13 years)

I wish I could take credit for this concept. Really I do. Did you know there is a Foundation devoted to it?
Anyway, two wonderful events occurred in my life today. I'll tell you about them another time.
Today I wanted to ask you this.
As you know, my brother and I have been creating images like this:




Do you know anyone who you would like to nominate for us to carry out a random act of kindness by creating something similar?
If you do, leave a comment, with a brief backstory. I'll email you directly to get contact details from you for them.
I'll leave submissions open until Saturday evening Perth time.
They can be anyone, it can be for any reason.
Thank you.

Cover illustration for the Dutch medical magazine Arts en Auto, about so-called serious games that allow apprentice surgeons to practice their future tasks.

More at www.sevensheaven.nl

Join me at Twitter [I mainly write in the Dutch language]

More New Zealanders may get the opportunity to meet Sirocco the Kakapo, as the Department of Conservation is considering a nationwide tour for the bird, star of several years of Kakapo Encounters on Ulva Island. The Southland Times has the story.

Kakapo Recovery Team leader Diedre Vercoe said Sirocco had his last chance in the programme in spring but had failed to impress. "We thought because he was quite friendly ... we thought `here's a really good opportunity and he would be quite a frequent donator' but he's all talk."

Sirocco would remain on Codfish Island until August, when he would move to Ulva island for a month for this year's encounter. After that his role would probably change, with several ideas being discussed, including a national trip.

"We've decided his main purpose from this point on is going to be for advocacy ... one idea that's been mooted is that he ... visits a few places around the country so different people can see him."

Yes, I did. I imported a vintage car into the UK. Here he is outside Cowboy's brother's house.You see, we have no off-street parking at The Bolt-hole, and parking him at the kerbside in London would be foolhardy in the extreme. Thieves would be able to make off with him in their arms. Additionally, he's delicate and he really should be in a garage lest droplets of rain cause unsightly rust.

I trained hard for this race, harder and more intensely than I have for any other sporting event in my life. Although I came up short on a couple of the goals I set for myself, the weekend will most definitely go down as a resounding success.

The goals I had set were many-fold: get to the start line, finish, avoid getting chick'd (sad but true), win, set course record, beat Karl. I guess three out of six ain't bad. This journey was made all the more special as I was able to share it with my parents, wife and son, in addition to a wonderful group of trail-running friends from Fort Collins and beyond: a true family affair, under the organization of a very close-knit community in Sheridan, Wyoming.

We arrived in Sheridan the day before the race under very dark clouds. As we pulled into town, my sense of calm and confidence from the weeks leading up to the race had turned to intense nerves and doubt. Coming into town, the mountains were completely obscured by dense clouds, and the reports at registration of non-stop rain for two weeks prior to race day actually had me in something of a panic. At the medical check-in the nurse took my blood pressure twice before asking me if I was nervous, which I was, as my blood pressure was so high. I needed to get running and stop over-thinking this thing.

We woke up to clear skies and a hot sun on race morning. The mountains looked lush.

There was a definite sense of nervousness among the assembled runners as we shuffled around waiting for the start. I lined up with Bryan Goding, Harry Harcrow and Hank Dart at the start as we made small talk waiting for the off. Finally the months of waiting were reduced to a ten-second count down. And they're off. Boy did it feel good to be running.


The course started out with a mile of dirt road to allow runners to gain a comfortable pace and position before hitting the singletrack. Karl and, I think, Phil Shaw took up the early pace with me, Bryan and Harry close behind. We hit the rocky singletrack and I let Harry set the pace as we watched Karl pull away a bit. Phil looked to be taking a very conservative approach, walking some very moderate hills, so we soon passed him, and after watching Karl pull away more than I was comfortable with, I pushed past Harry to sit with the lead for a while to get a feel for the pace and the kind of inclines that Karl was and was not prepared to run.

After the opening two to three miles of moderately ascending singletrack, alongside the charging Tongue River, the course opened up into the expansive and amazingly lush Tongue River Canyon which would lead us 3,500 feet higher over the course of the next six miles. The trail was good, and I was encouraged to find it exceptionally well flagged as I am a past master at getting off course. About half way up the climb, I decided to put my pre-race plan to work and eased into the lead, running a little deeper into the climbs than Karl was prepared to. The plan was fairly simple: build an early lead and try to hold it.

I never really built much of a lead and Karl was soon back on me as we made our way up to the crest of the climb before a steep drop down into the Upper Sheep Creek aid station. I filled my water bottle and Karl didn't - that was pretty much the last I saw of him until the turnaround 40 miles later. Harry and Bryan, running three and four were out of sight behind, and so began my 20 hours of virtual solitude, just me, the moose and the water.

From Upper Sheep (8.5 miles) to the first crew access point at Dry Fork (13.5 miles), it is five miles or so of very runnable dirt road and singletrack. I missed the turn onto the singletrack, but quickly realized my mistake and bushwhacked a bit to get to the orange flag I had spotted on the trail. I wasn't feeling particularly comfortable through this section, and was very worried at how tired I felt. I was ten miles into what on any other day would have been a very easy-paced run. Not a good sensation when you have another 90 miles of rugged mountain trail ahead. I was buoyed, however, by the fact that I would soon be seeing my family, even if only fleetingly. I came into Dry Fork on a gravel road, and my mom had a gel cut into a bit of water waiting for me.


I scoffed a couple of salted potatoes, gave everyone a quick hug and followed the jeep track down and back up to Cow Camp (19.5). This was a nice easy section of the course, which allowed me to find my rhythm and regain some confidence.


At Cow Camp I quickly shot another diluted gel before getting back onto the singletrack, which through the next section would become increasingly difficult to make out as it was partially obscured by heavy sagebrush. The wildflowers through here were pretty spectacular. Up to this point the trail had been remarkably dry, allowing for comfortable running. I didn't spend much time taking in the scenery, as the trail was so technical, but the one time I did take a look around I saw a moose grazing in a meadow set against a dramatic cliff face. I'm sure I ran past countless other examples of natural beauty, as the Bighorns are unceasingly breathtaking, but the technical nature of the trail would not allow me to take my eyes off the dirt beneath for more than a few seconds at a time.

After a few miles, the trail passed through a wooded section and became increasingly soggy as small brooks crossed the trail or ran with it. The guys at Bear Camp (26.5) were just setting up as I got there, letting me know that Karl had passed through eight minutes earlier. I downed a handful of nuts and set off for the river. I knew the drop down 'The Wall' to the river was going to be fairly sloppy in places, and immediately leaving the aid I was sinking ankle deep in sticky mud, almost losing a shoe a couple of times. The slop was thankfully short lived, but my feet would essentially stay wet for the remainder of the run.

The drop down The Wall was pretty intense, with not a switchback to be found. There was a ton of loose rock and a number of small brook crossings so I had to be very careful with my footing.

At the Footbridge aid station (30), I weighed in at a skinny 139 - six pounds lighter than the day before - picked up my drop bag, taking the time to change my socks and shoes. After eating some potatoes and shooting a gel I had lingered for probably five minutes. Just as I was getting ready to leave - in the wrong direction - third and fourth place cruised into the aid station. I didn't recognize either of them. After being shouted back on course, I started the long 18-mile ascent to the turn at Porcupine.

I ran the 3.5 miles upriver to the Narrows (33.5) aid station pretty hard in a bid to build a solid gap on the guys behind. Narrows looked like a nice place to hang out, and I was kind of envious of the volunteers enjoying their day in the woods around the campfire. A young teenage boy watched me get a shot of gel ready with the kind of expression I have seen kids wear as they watch unfamiliar animals in the wild. I tried to humanize myself by engaging him in a brief conversation, but he remained pretty mystified.

The running up to Spring Marsh (40) through the woods was decent, with perhaps the best and least technical singletrack of the entire race. I was really beginning to find my stride, relishing the fact that I felt strong, mentally alert and ready for more. Coming out of the trees, the course faded to, at best, deer trail. It was marker to marker here for a few miles. The Spring Marsh aid station finally materialized at 40 miles after a long stretch of hiking and running on the 2,500 foot climb. Karl now had a 25-minute lead. From here to Elk Camp (43.5) the trail was either submerged by bogs or rutted by elk hooves - tough running. I got a great cup of noodles at Elk Camp and pushed on to the turn through increasingly marshy sections of meadow. By the woods, a couple of miles before the turn, I had to work through some very deep snow drifts, which at first were nice and cool on the legs but after a while caused me to loose feeling in the lower extremities. I was looking forward to dunking my feet in warm water at the turn.

Karl came storming through the drifts at some point here, bug-eyed and telling me to watch for some very angry moose - apparently he had been charged and kicked twice. Thankfully Karl had done enough to send them on their way for the day, and I didn't catch sight of any moose through the last mile to Porcupine (48).

Dana ran me into Porcupine where I took a seat and set about getting my sopping shoes and socks off. I had a mighty crew working for me here, with Victoria getting me noodles and coffee, Eric handing me caffeine pills, Dana fetching dry shoes and socks, my parents hooking up my lighting and getting out warm clothing, while an aid station volunteer got me a bowl of warm water to quickly soak my feet - bliss! By the time I was ready to go, I had two new pairs of socks on, dry shoes, a warm jacket, lighting and a happy stomach. I felt like a new man. Those assembled gave me a good cheer as I made my way out, approximately 9:30 into the race.




I saw Harry making his way to Porcupine as I climbed back out. He was looking pretty good and was much closer than I thought third would be. I upped my pace. Somehow I completely missed the turn back onto the trail and continued running the ranger station road, finally hitting Devil's Canyon Road in completely the wrong spot. What! How the hell did I manage that? Rather than backtracking, I decided I would try to find the trail intersection by running down Devil's Canyon Road. The problem with this strategy was that I didn't know which way the trail was or if I was even on Devil's Canyon Road. I ran for half a mile in the wrong direction before turning around and running the other way to find the trail, which ultimately I decided wasn't going to work anyway because I would then technically be DQF'able for not following the course. I turned back around again, and headed back to the ranger road towards Porcupine and the VERY WELL MARKED turn onto the trail. This stupidity on my part cost me at least 30 minutes. Doh!

I've been off trail enough times during the course of a trail race that I didn't allow myself to get too flustered, despite being furious with myself. I figured I was now in fourth or fifth as the sun was coming down and I turned my lights on. I asked the next guy coming down the trail how many had passed through, and I was thankful to hear that just Harry had been able to take advantage of my stupidity. I guess the others had made pretty slow progress getting up to Porcupine. With 52 miles to go, I was in no hurry to reel Harry in. The next guy I saw told me that Harry had five minutes on me. The race for first, however, was essentially over.

I picked up Harry's light pretty quickly and we came into Elk Camp (52.5) together. I tried to engage him in conversation to get a read on where he was at mentally and physically. He had nothing for me. Normally, it is close to impossible to get a word in edgewise against Harry. Tonight he was stony quiet. We both ate some broth and noodles. Harry got out a half minute before me. Sloshing through the marsh we leapfrogged in second and third for a bit, losing the trail in places as our eyes adjusted to the moonless dark of night.

Coming to a river crossing, we both looked for the log bridge, which was not immediately obvious. Harry went the right way, I went the wrong way. I caught back up to Harry as he was getting across, and as I tried to catch up my legs gave way under me and I took a spill into the freezing cold river. Thankfully, I was on the upriver side of the bridge, so was able to cling onto it and jump back on. I had submerged up to my waist, not a great place to be at 9,000 feet in the middle of the night. After getting out of the river, I soon took a spill in a marshy spot on the trail. What the hell was going on? What happened to the guy full of confidence coming out of the turn?

Thankfully I was able to regain my senses, slow down, get into a rhythm and concentrate on running a sensible race. On the drop back down to Spring Marsh aid (56), Harry and I were pretty close, but my attempts at conversation still bore no fruit. Screw it, I was going to press on and try to secure second out of the aid station. I had a grip on my senses, my night vision had kicked in and I was ready to roll.

By the time I got back into the woods towards Narrows aid (62.5) there was no sign of Harry's light. I continued to press here taking advantage of the smooth trail. Narrows finally came and I enjoyed a delicious cup of broth and yet another disgusting shot of gel. I was running well and feeling strong despite my earlier comedy of errors.

By the time the descent finally bottomed out at Footbridge (66), I was ready to start climbing, or more accurately, I was ready to stop running and start hiking. I would get my wish with the 3.5 mile, 2,000+ foot climb to Bear Camp (69.5). By the time I finally made it up, the two volunteers were both fast asleep in their sleeping bags. I didn't want to wake them, but I guess I was stumbling around a bit, which roused them. I got a cup of cold broth and headed out on what I knew would be a tough section to Cow Camp (76.5). I was now in the deepest, darkest section of the night; my legs were beginning to scream at me and I still had a 50k to run. Uh!

I could no longer figure out if I was running uphill, downhill or on the flats here; it all felt the same and I couldn't pick out depth in the light of my fading headlamp. I mainly ran at a shuffle, taking a couple of walk breaks when I was sure I was moving uphill. I couldn't take my mind off the fact that I had so far to go and that the sun was still two hours away. The true absurdity of this undertaking was really beginning to sink in. Nothing to do but keep moving.

To add insult to injury, my stomach was beginning to get sloshy, which in the past has meant that a revisit of lunch, dinner or breakfast was not far behind. I stopped drinking and forged ahead.

I was looking for the spring water pipe, which meant two miles to Cow Camp (76.5). It never materialized in the dark of the night, but Head Dunk Tank did, which meant no more than a few minutes to Cow Camp. You beauty! I ate a couple of slices of plain bread in a bid to soak up the excess liquid in my stomach, and ate a bunch of orange slices. Wow, it's amazing what a bit of bread, some human interaction and ten to twelve orange slices will do for you. I was a new man.

I ran the jeep track down to the creek, before hitting the climb back up to Dry Fork (82.5). The birds were coming into full chorus, I barely needed my lights, and I would be seeing my family in a few minutes. Game on. I lingered a bit at Dry Fork, relishing the warm tent and the conversation. I told anyone who would listen that I would never be running one of these ridiculous races ever again.


Harry's wife Gina was there and told me that third was at least 40 minutes back on me, according to radio reports from Cow Camp, although she didn't know if it was Harry. I was pretty sure second was in the bag now with just 17 miles to go. My poor family had slept in the car through the night, just to help me get through Dry Fork. If they could make that sacrifice, I could most definitely push on and get this thing done without making them wait around any longer than they had to. I told my Dad I would be done in three to three and half hours.

My legs had seized up a bit standing around at Dry Fork, but I was able to break out a run up the hill from Dry Fork. I wanted to show strength in case Gina was watching me head out. My legs eased up and I got into a great rhythm on the sweet, sweet singletrack. I was enjoying the run again.

At the top of the final climb before the descent down the Tongue River Canyon I let out a huge scream of triumph. A bit more primal than Julie Andrews, but if you can picture her in a meadow of wildflowers in the high Alps busting out a chorus of The Hills are Alive, you might get the idea. I was still 11 or 12 miles out, but the sun was coming up over the canyon, second was in the bag and I was about to finish up a journey that I had been working towards for months, boy did I feel good.

The steep, steep descent down the canyon hurt, no two ways about it, but I didn't really care. The last four or five miles of dirt road were also torturous, but again the finish line was so close it was just a matter of grinding it out. I thought about walking some of the ups, but just wanted this thing done so pushed on. I finally saw the bridge over the river into Dayton, did the victory lap around the park and crossed the line to the cheers of my hardy family. What an epic journey.




I didn't quite realize what I was getting myself in for when I signed up for Bighorn. The course looks kind of tame when you compare it elevation-wise to other mountain hundreds, but believe me the technical nature of the trail (when it is there), the bogs and marshes (this course literally leaks water), the snow, and the extended climbs take their toll like no other course I have ever run. When they say this place is wild, they ain't joking with ya.