Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Canyons Endurance Runs 100K: Quesadilla toothbrush

“I have to brush my teeth” I mumbled to noone in particular as I shambled my way towards the Cal 2 aid station. It was getting dark, and I had been shoving sugary food into my mouth since before the sun rose that morning. (In other words, I was having a great day!) But now my teeth felt fuzzy and I was convinced I could feel my enamel eroding away. I was supposed to fix that all down at the river, but in my sun baked haze, that determination had slipped away when I spotted something shiny.

Thank goodness for the kind folks at Cal 2! Before long, I found myself being gently but firmly evicted from the aid station with a warm quesadilla in my hand. I looked down and a light bulb turned on. Before I knew it, I was rubbing that warm savory treat over my teeth and gums like the finest uncut Colombian. It was bliss. And it worked! Instead of being coated in sugary gunk, my mouth now was cheddar fresh and ready to rumble.

What the hell, I decided to go for broke and take in some gooey, cheesy calories. I started enthusiastically chomping away on my makeshift dental device. At this point, my stomach immediately (and urgently) chimed in to remind me that dairy REALLY wasn’t a good idea in my current state. Point taken.

Out came a wad of chewed quesadilla off the side of the trail, followed by the rest of the unchewed quesadilla for good measure. And off I went up yet another hill.

And don’t let anyone tell you that ultrarunning isn’t glamorous!

Tl;dr: No, *that* was the toughest thing I’ve ever done




PS: Remember when I claimed trail races were easier on the body than road marathons? Well, it turns out in this particular case


Abstract: The stars aligned. I was fortunate to come into this race rested, healthy, and trained. And thank goodness, because it was damned mean course. I made some relatively good decisions throughout the day and managed to slip in at 15:50:34 to nab my B goal and a States Qualifier. But man, that hurt. Elevation gain and heat made for a soul crushing combo. But on the bright side, that was excellent training for the big dance.

The Story:
The Canyons 100K is a double out and back along arguably the toughest parts of the Western States course. I thought it would be either a great qualifier or a dress rehearsal for the big dance.
And that’s how I ended up signing up for the race while crouched in an Osaka open air market. I was joined by Meredith (who did me one better by staying up late to sign up after running the JFK50) and ultrabuddies Matt and Kristin. This was especially awesome because I’d met Matt and Kristin on these very trails in the uber hot Overlook 50 mile race in what I’d termed “the Canyons of Death” between Foresthill and RuckaChucky.
Since I’d managed to DNS Headlands Hundred (and then unofficially Rio Del Lago and Rocky Raccoon), more than a year had elapsed since my last ultra at Gorges 100K. But thanks to Natalie (http://barbellblondie.com/), I was fortunate enough to toe the line last Saturday uninjured and well trained. I’d been able to hit above 80 mile weeks several times, so I knew that if I could make it to ForestHill healthy I’d have an excellent chance of nabbing my States qualifier. It seemed appropriate to do it on the States trails!

Everything was coming together on race day. The gang and I scored a sweet house 2 miles from the start/finish in ForestHill. Which was handy, since the alarm went off at 4 am. Despite the lovely warm weather we were having, there was still a chill in the air when we set out with all our drop bags to the famous ForestHill elementary school gym. The last time I had set foot there (see: previous post) was to wait for Meredith to come running on down Cal street.  



Look at all the happy faces! We were so naive :-D

I had a brief moment of panic at about T-8 minutes where my quick lacing system slipped out. But thanks to help from some strangers (and, strangely, a strand of uncooked spaghetti intended for use as a coffee stirrer), I was back in track in no time. Thankfully, this would be the only shoe issues I had all day!


I rolled on outside, chatted with my peeps, gave a few high fives, and before we knew it, we were off!





We ran a mile or so on flat pavement and then said goodbye to our quads as we entered some sweet singletrack plunging down, down, down.



Runner traffic! Volcano creek crossing at mile 3. This was the biggest water crossing we'd see all day, but we were getting our feet wet on a surprisingly regular basis.
The race company did a great job conditioning the trail, but the heavy wind and rain meant that there were always plenty of obstacles on the course to keep us on our toes. Yes, the trail goes directly over that log.

The first climb of the day wasn't too bad! I got into a chat with some nice folks. I had a delightful chat with Karen from Sacramento who was telling me all about the Ironmans (Ironmen?) she had completed and how she felt about multisport vs trail running vs road running. It definitely helped pass the time!


With a leg crushing 15K of elevation gain over the day, you'd think I'd be smart enough to take it out easy. You really would. Instead, I thought I'd bank some time when it was cool by running a good portion of the first 50K. This led to some great adrenaline driven moments as I danced my way down some gnarly descents with loose footing. Amazingly, I didn't eat it and made some great progress. The only problem was that the first half of the race was, terrainwise, the more challenging portion with >60% of the climbing and descending. How much climbing was that again?

Image result for over 9000

Oh right, thanks Vegeta! What does that look like? A lot of this. A LOT. This particular shot was from the legendary climb up to Devil's Thumb. Thankfully, it wasn't that hot...yet. But on a grade this steep, any uphill motion requires a fairly high level of exertion. Definitely power hiking material.


This climb was 1700 feet of gain in 1.5 miles. That's roughly 2X Land's End's worth of climbing in the space of a track warmup.

Thankfully the aid stations were awesome! One might say...magical?

 Something finally just *clicked* in miles 19-22, and I threw down some fast miles on the soft, runnable, downhills. Flow? Yes please! I was laughing maniacally the whole time and super proud to have a sub 8 mile on an ultra. Spoiler alert: not gonna happen the rest of the day.

Some more fun obstacles to maneuver over.


High on adrenaline, I was poised to tackle the uphill with plenty of fuel and good cheer. I rounded the corner, bounded up the hill...and promptly cramped. Oy. I'd been dosing consistently with salt pills and calories and I was still peeing, so I'm chalking it up to the climb up from El Dorado Creek being just plain nasty. Lots of this. Lots and lots of this. Say goodbye to running for a while!



The Michigan Bluff aid station was full of good cheer and ice. Thank goodness because it was heating up!
 After some more interminable climbs punctuated by gorgeous views...

 I finally decided I had to pull myself out of self pity mode and at least pretend like I knew what I was doing when I faced my crew. Glad they're there to hold me accountable! I came in at about 7:15 elapsed. Not bad for a murderous first half!



And in no time at all, they have my pack swapped out, an ice bandana around my neck, and my spirits lifted enough to run down Cal street, doing my best impressions from Unbreakable. Thanks everyone!



 Back down to the canyons of death! This was the infamous section of Overlook that turned Levi's shirt into a science experiment and the rest of us into overheated zombies. This year I was definitely maxing out my 2 L bladder and ice bandana!

My plan was to run the next 16 miles down to the river hard to give myself a nice buffer. It's downhill, right? Should be easy. Well...it's mid to upper 80's. And exposed. With plenty of rocks and nasty footing (at least compared to the buttery singletrack of the Marin Headlands) While I was packing in as much ice water as I could, I started to feel a sluggishness take hold. I could run, maybe, if I really wanted to. Do I want to? Why am I doing this again? This isn't fun right now. Oh right, I signed up for this!

After lots of thankfully internal whining and an eternity of walking, I finally made it to the river and the RuckaChucky aid station.




No shots of the aid station because I was too busy trying to get my legs back in gear. But just turning back towards home was a huge morale booster. I love being on the "back" part of an out and back.

And besides, the river was so pretty.


But dat obstacle course tho...

Lots of hiking, some actual running, and a quesadilla toothbrush later, the sun was finally setting. And I finally realized how much the heat put in me into a funk! I cranked the tunes and at least pretended to stride up the hill.
The final 3.5 miles lasted just this side of forever. I had no more patience and no more reserves. I just kept it at a manageable heartrate and plugged away, but it's turn after turn after turn of dark hills leading up into the distance. At this point in the race, I knew I was going to make the cutoffs. Whew! But without this motivation, I was grinding away in low gear until I smell the barn (aka turn onto the street for the final sprint/shamble)

I cross that line and I am DONE in 15:50:34. I was pretty spot on my B goal of 16 hours. Reasonably even splits (less climbing in the back half helped) of a 7:15 50K followed by a 7:35 "50K" (by all reports, the back half is a little long) I should have been more stoked, but I was just TOAST.

My crew helped me into a chair and I went instantly from sweating to freezing. I packed on all my layers and packed in some great mexican food at the end. I was enjoying it, I swear. Even though I'd been religiously eating 200+ calories an hour the entire day, I ravenously downed about 1200+ calories without blinking. Then I go passed out in the car for a while.
We spent some time that evening and the next morning swapping stories and trying to come to terms with a tough day. I was thankfully uninjured, but I had never been this mentally or physically depleted. I hear bacon helps with both of those. And beer.

 Thanks, Foresthill! Hopefully the next time I see you, I'll be coming through on foot for States!
 Huge thanks to Doris, Natalie, and Jeremy for the awesome crewing! Congrats to Matt, Kristin, and Samir for gutting it through a tough day. Kudos to Meredith for making the right call and pulling out after "only" running the toughest 50K so far due to cramping. You've got bigger fish to fry. Mmm...fried fish.

Also huge thanks to the RD for putting on a well supported (so much ice!), well marked, tough as nails race. I have only good things to say about everyone I interacted with along the way! Highly recommended.

The report card:

Nutrition/Hydration: A-
I kept strictly to a "100 calories or more every 30 mins or less" schedule while wearing 2 watches like a madman. But it worked! Even in the hot section, I was putting calories down and keeping them down. They were barely enough. In my pack, I had chia gels, margarita shotblocks, epic bars, pop tarts, and picky bars. I packed some tailwind for the first half (and probably could have kept it up in the second!) At aid stations, I started with pb & J, fig bars and chips. Later on, I switched to broth with rice and potato chips. I would love to train my body to take in more calories, but I'm quite pleased I didn't puke (or bonk too hard) throughout the day

Points off for fiddling too much with carbo loading the days leading into the race. Just eat what works, dude. Don't fiddle with white rice and pasta if your system can't take it.

Gear: A-
Ice Bandana and sunsleeves were a godsend. The pack swap was also a good call (2 20 oz amphipods + Mountain Hardwear Fluid race vest for 50K, then a 2L bladder and a Nathan elevate pack to finish) It was nice to seamlessly switch between setups and the two packs used different muscles. Minus just a tick for trying to carry too much near the end, but after getting burned at Overlook there was NO WAY I was running out of water again. Hoka One One Mafate 4 + injinji medium weight toesocks were flawless. I was constantly tramping through stream and over rocks but the Mafate 4's just ate them up. I gave up agility, but I felt like a tank. Minor calluses and blisters. Huge shoutout to Kathy (http://www.drkatherinechou.com/) for fitting with an awesome pair of insoles!

Training: A
Yes. This worked. The long hours on the stairmill in the gym paid off. I was used to plodding uphill in the heat surrounded by people dropping in and out. And, more importantly, NO PAIN IN MY KNEES AT ALL. On some of the most rugged, toughest terrain I've faced down. THANK YOU NATALIE! I do like the 2 weeks high volume, 1 week rest routine for each training mesocycle and I think I'll continue that in the future.

Pacing and Execution: B+
Well, maybe this is a little harsh. I did hit my B goal. But I felt like I was spinning my wheels a bit in the rougher terrain of the second half. I definitely walked when I didn't need so, so I need to toughen up a bit. In the words of Coach Sam, "don't be a @*$% out there." My mental game needs work when I'm flying solo. How do people embrace the suck? I'd keep on moving slowly and pray for a second (third, fourth etc.) wind, but it seemed like other folks were staying more engaged for longer periods of time. I'll need to work on that!

Amusingly, I found my "faster running" muscles were relatively ok at mile 50+. It hurt to go slowly, but surprisingly not to accelerate. This led to some sections where I was alternating between walking and "sprinting" (aka 10 minute miles) Sorry to anyone who was following me.

Overall, I made some good preparations for being out of my mind. I went off course briefly at one point, but managed to turn myself around in less than 400m. Win! I also anticipated being braindead at the aid stations and packed a checklist into my drop bag. This helped me not forget my headlamp! That would have been real bad.

Conclusion:
I executed well on a difficult race. I think I'm done with major changes to my routine; bring on the Kettle Moraine 100M! It's 32 days away, not that I'm counting :-P 3 days later, I'm walking down stairs like a grandparent (or like a road marathoner) but I can decidedly hold my head up high.

The Minutia:
My packing list, if you're curious
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1p8e5cQSv-goiwxEN4G6CzjWw7yDVDtRGSdAzqzfvKZ0/edit?usp=sharing

Happy trails!

David

Any questions?

Image result for harvey dent can he be trusted

Ok, not that one.

Friday, July 15, 2016

WESTERN. FREAKING. STATES. (a pace report)

On June 25/26, Meredith ran the Western States 100, the granddaddy of ultramarathon trail events in the US. It takes years to get in via a lottery, and its participants are treated to a crapton of heat, climbing, altitude, with an honest to goodness river crossing thrown in for good measure. This is not her story. Well, not all of it, at least. That’s her tale to tell. I can tell you what it was like *pacing her for 22 miles.


*In longer races, runners are allowed both crew and pacers. Crew meet them at specific points along the course with extra supplies. While the race provides an amazing amount of support, it helps to have someone you know with your stuff to kick your ass in gear. Also present are pacers, runners who accompany the racer through dangerous or dark sections. It really takes a village to run a point to point hundo. Jeremy and Megan were crew #1, Ethan, Kathryn, and Corey were crew #2, Mark Pepper was pacer #1, and I was pacer #2. Whew. And that doesn’t count the spectators and support crew!


Being asked to be a pacer is yuuuuuuge! At times, you’ll be called upon as a navigator, an entertainer, a medic, a cheerleader, a dietician, a drill sergeant, and/or a shoulder to cry on (not here, you’re wasting hydration!) In short, pacers play the Han Solo to your Luke Skywalker, giving you the one shot you need so you can blow this thing and go home.


I was so thrilled to be asked! Here I am with my game face on:


The blow by blow:


4:45 pm, Foresthill, CA
Happy States-mas, everyone! So far today, I’ve slept in, baked a loaf of bread, and sampled Sacremento’s best ramen while Mer has been just running. Yowza.I hadn’t even arrived yet and my energy level was starting to dip...and then we finally arrived at Forest Hill. Holy cow. I’ve been trying to get into Western States for 3 years counting now, and pulling up into one of the biggest aid stations in the town of Forest Hill was a like a family reunion at Disneyland on Christmas with celebrities.I was so excited I could barely focus. “Guys, guys! I just saw Sally McRae run through! I need to go talk to URP’s Eric Schranz and just say hi! Sarah Lavender Smith came through at 24 hour pace!” Once I started to see Jeremy’s eyes glaze over, I realized that everything I just said was something I’d normally be texting to Mer. Holy crap. She’s doing this!


It’s a party in here! (Sarah Lavender Smith coming through on sub 24 hour pace)
We hang out for a while. As the hours pass, I try to nap, but the honest to goodness 12 foot alpenhorn down the road keeps my adrenaline up and my spirits high. Whatever. As darkness finally falls, I jog down the road to see our guest of honor pull in. She’s looking businesslike and ready to run! Which is good since she’s behind her A pace and looking to make up some time. We get her in and out like a well oiled machine. Blister care? Done. Watch handoff? Completed. She’s fed, equipped, and out moving before too much time passes. Good job, team.




12:00 am, Penryn, CA
It’s midnight in Penryn, population 831. I’m lying on some cushions on the floor of an AirBnb, trying to turn 90 hard earned minutes of inactivity into a night’s sleep. As I stare at my eyelids, my tired brain churns ceaselessly. Western States is a stage, and we are all of us merely players. The star? Meredith. Meredith, who’s been running for 21 hours now and counting. Meredith, who’s gone up and down more hills in one day than I do in a week. Meredith, who’s got the best damn crews and pacers rooting for her, but hey, 100 miles is a long way, any way you cut it. Meredith, whose hopes and dreams of three years for this race are going down *right now* Did I leave enough time to get to the pickup point? We can’t be late. Do I know my way once I start pacing? I can’t get her lost. Don’t fuck this up. 89 minutes left…


1:23 am, somewhere between Penryn and ForestHill
This is how we die, right? On a modified rickety camp school bus bouncing its way down to the river. I look out the window and there’s a big ole drop about 3 feet on the right.


I stop looking out the window.


2:51 am, Rucky Chucky campground


After many, many hours of “hurry up and wait” our esteemed guest has arrived! Eager to start my pacing duties, I fill up her hydration bladder and get ready to close up her trusty pack. I grab the zipper...which, horrifically, comes off in my hand. F*ck. 30 seconds in and I’ve dropped the ball. After some fumbling, some hasty planning, and some quick thinking, Mer is back up and running with Mark’s pack and a somewhat chastened new pacer.


My first duty? Cross the river. Don’t drown or get swept away. The river is cold, dark, and fast flowing. Without the ever cheerful volunteers and the guideline, I’d be downstream in a flash. As it is, the crossing is 5 excruciatingly chilling minutes of being immersed up to my waist while picking through slippery rocks. My teeth are soon chattering, I can’t imagine what that would be like after 22 hours of running.


On the other side, Mer and I share an amusingly biblical moment where I dry her feet and get her ready to move. For the first time, it hits home for real; I’m there to have a real impact on her race. I will my fingers to move faster, and soon we’re heading up a nice warming 2 mile climb to the Green Gate aid station.


4:12 am, somewhere on the Auborn Lake Trails


Mer and I had “The Talk.” It goes like this:
Mer: “I’m an hour ahead of 30 hour pace. We are *not* going to be chasing cutoffs in the last part of this race.”
Me: “OK.”
Followed in my head by “and Meredith, I am so, so sorry for what I’m about to put you through.”


And so, I went. And she followed. Until that moment, I’ve never really been a pacer. Sure, I’ve run with people at the end of their races, but that was in the capacity of entertainer, navigator, medic, and sounding board. Not now. I was here to get us to the end, and get us to the end on time.


From there on out, it was hammertime. No attempts at chatting. No more than 3 minutes per aid station. No unnecessary walking. We shut up and *ran* I have never seen anyone so focused and, quite honestly, I was scared and a little bit in awe. In the dark of the night, when push comes to shove, you see what you’re made of. It killed me to listen to her run on shredded quads and burning feet. But she was driven to keep moving and it was my job to keep her there. I’d run about 10 feet ahead of her and listen for her steps. If she got too far back, I’d slow down until she caught up, then resume our normal pace. It worked.


We passed people. We passed groups of people. We passed Howland’s brother and pacee. We powerhiked up hills and pelted down declines like it ain’t no thang. It was deliberate and implacable. It was beautiful. And, even through the pain, it was uplifting. We watched the grey of night give way to the first streaks of dawn. We witnessed the sun peek over the horizon and listened to the birds start to wake. Every so often, we marvelled at the deer silently gazing from the trailside.


Sometimes, not so silently. At one point I heard some crashing in the bushes. Praying that this wouldn’t turn into a Kami Semick situation I craned my neck over, only to see a sheepish (deerish?) looking deer staring right back at me. Whew.

And through it all….That intensity? That laserlike focus? It stayed. I’ve never seen anything like that. The sum total of our communications (or, as I call them, missives from deep in the Pain Cave) were all business. “Have we seen a flag recently?” “I want half water and half electrolytes” “This part is too rocky to run.” 1:00 ahead of cutoff became 1:15 and kept right on going. We fell into a rhythm at aid stations. I’d grab her pack and handoff for filling, she’d grab some food, then I’d scramble to keep up as she exited at warp speed. Woman on a mission. (Did I fill up my own water? N00b pacer mistake. Doesn’t matter. KEEP GOING)


Every so often I’d look up from staring at the trail 5 feet of ahead of me to see this. Yowza.


At one point, we heard bells and stepped aside to let The Jester pass on by. Huge amount of respect, but I hope his pacer knew how much jingling he was in for!


We knew we only have 7 miles left at Highway 49 where we found Kathryn, Ethan, and Corey. I exchanged a few terse sentences, grabbed some bacon, and made my hasty way out of the aid station. Thanks, crew! Your job is to wait hours, then see your running for about 200 seconds if you’re doing your job right.




Before long, it was hot. Not canyons hot, not “I’ve been running for 26 hours” hot, but still hot enough for me. But before long, we were within spitting distance of the end. I cranked the tunes and kept on trucking. When we hit the iconic No Hands Bridge, we knew that we’d made it on time. Natalie and Xav met us there for some high energy hijinks and we blasted our way up to Robie point.


From there on, it was the traditional victory mile to the track. We gained more and more friends along the way until we finally, finally hit the track.









Words fail me. Fantastic job, Mer. Thank you so much for letting me be a part of that!


Some takeaways:
  1. Ultrarunning is family. It takes a village to run a race/it’s all about the community. So high five your pacer, hug your crew, and without fail thank your volunteers. She did.
  2. If I’m about to give up, think about the last 22 miles of Meredith’s race, shut up, and keep running.
  3. States is freaking AWESOME (and freaking TOUGH) Maybe 2017 will be my year?


Happy trails,

David

PS Check out my sweet, sweet pacing outfit


Thursday, June 9, 2016

Bend Beer Chase: You...you got what I need

This about sums up the day  You'll want to click that link. Go ahead, I can wait.

Now think of every sports movie you watched in 80’s, low-res, scratchy VHS glory. You couldn’t help but cheer as the scrappy underdogs overcame long odds and dire circumstances to become the best….around! Nothing’s ever gonna keep you down!



Yeah, that was GGRC at the Bend Beer Chase. Not to brag (ok, maybe a little bit), we focused on FUN and AWESOME LEOTARDS and NOT DYING IN 90+ DEGREE HEAT and still somehow managed to place 6/99 out of mixed open teams, and 13/167 overall.


All while looking like this:



I call that a win!

Thank you, thank you, thank you Xavier, Kathy, Pat, Sarah, and Levi for making this entire weekend memorable and fantastically enjoyable. You are the best!

A little background:
The Bend Beer Chase is an event up in Bend, OR where teams of up to 6 run a course of 52 miles. For those new to the relay scene, the current runner takes off along the course and the rest of the runners drive the van past to leapfrog the runner. The van then stops and provides support while cheering on all the runners. At pre determined exchange points, the van swaps out runners and continues moving. It’s a party on wheels; highly recommended! Key difference this time: there’s beer at the packet pickup, there’s beer at the exchange points, and everyone runs the final 3 mile keg leg which basically is a pub crawl.


Um….yes please?


After much deliberation, we settled on our theme: The 1987 Crystal Light National Aerobics Championship Team (google it) and spent our times honing our costumes and our dance moves. As you can see, they paid off. Many thanks to my awesome teammates...their pictures and videos are below.


We started our trip at the rental car counter at SFO making Starcraft jokes to the 60+ year old woman at the counter. (She loved it.)


We then drove up to Bend in two hops, stopping at Red Bluff to sleep and at the Dunsmuir Brewing Company for excellent, excellent beer and food. Shoutout to our rental Toyota Sienna™ for being a consistently awesome road trip machine, complete with rocking sound system and reclining seats. Thanks, Sienna!

The constant theme of the trip was "How much does it cost to buy property?" and "I could totally live here."






Before long we were installed in our very own hot-tub equipped vacation home (HOT TUB!) and settled in for an evening of grilling, drinking, and chilling out. Oh, did I mention that our start time was 9:40? Our start time was 9:40. This left us plenty of time for Artistic Director Slagle to create an awesome van theme and for us to get our beer on. What can I say...we’re serious about our running and we’re serious about our booze!


Saturday rolled around, and we got our game faces on.




We erupted out of the van at the start and commenced dancing our hearts out. The competition never knew what hit ‘em.
Nothin’ like some morning beers to get the hydration started *right* (Note: Thank you to Xav and myself for being DDs)




Direct quote from the RD: “Good thing you guys are fast runners, because you can’t play cornhole for shit”


I asked nicely and they played our theme music at the start. Probably why Kathy is grinning so hard.

On the first leg, we had the brilliant idea to substitute a FLEX TUNNEL instead of a cheer tunnel. So we did.


And the day settled into the routine. Roll up, intimidate teams with our flexing, high five our teammates, and KEEP RUNNING!!!
All the other teams wanted a piece of this!




It got hot. But we kept rolling! And passing more and more runners along the way.


No, Pat, that’s not a great way to escape the heat.
Just get someone to spray you with a hose. Right, Sarah?
Handoffs were suitably epic!


And much flexing was done!


You know the phrase "I could see him coming a mile away?" Yes, that was literally true in our case.



I don't feel right if I'm not in full ultra gear. But it totally kept me cool.




We danced. We sang. We shouted out of the megaphone. Needless to say...we had a blast!





Damn, Levi...put your shirt back on. You’re making all of us dudes look bad!


We flexed at each other. We flexed at other teams. We flexed at the volunteers. They loved it and we rocked that positive energy.

And then we went on a race sanctioned 3 mile pub crawl. Yes, it was amazing.

Also amazing were the two guys on low riders who rode by and shouted "Hey, we like your leotards!"

Then "Oh whoops, we thought you were all girls!"

I don't know why you'd think that.


Conclusion:
My teammates and dear friends rock! The BBC relay rocks! Road trips and hot tubs rock! Kudos all around!


Note to newbies: There is no better way to bond with your club members than to road trip, race, and party it up. Highly recommended!

Note to veterans: If you use this product, you can reduce your van cleaning time to approximately 30 seconds total. Not exaggerating.
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000PSL68C/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o07_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

Also, if you have the most ridiculous costume, you will be the most popular team along the course.


Y’all gotta try this next year. It was so. Much. Fun.


The End.


David


PS Bend was absolutely gorgeous




PPS We had an awesome road trip both ways.
Red Bluff had some great views




Grass Lake, CA

Gymnastics break!